Miley Gets Regressed Part Three (Patreon)

“Given your past behavior, I think that two years old should suit you just fine... at least at first,” said Ms. Smythe with a grin.

     “Oh come on!” Miley exclaimed, her cheeks blushing. “I didn’t do anything that bad...”

     “We have a long and very public record of your deliberately shocking and provocative actions, young lady! Including cavorting around dressed as an actual baby on several occasions.”

     “That was just a bit!” she said, blushing deeply, knowing that this statement wasn’t quite true. “I-- it was a character I was playing!” She asserted, not quite as firmly as she would have liked... she couldn’t remember the number of times she’d thought about cavorting around in front of the entire world dressed like a giant baby while she guiltily masturbated...

     “Nevertheless, I do believe it’s a role they you’re, shall we say, comfortable with?” Ms. Smythe said, smiling wickedly when she saw Miley’s cheeks flare bright red in response.

     “Come along,” Ms. Smythe said, rising from her desk. “We’ve dawdled quite long enough-- it’s time to get you ready and start settling you in to your new life.”  She held out her hand towards Miley expectantly. Hesitantly, she reached out and took Ms. Smythe’s hand and allowed herself to be led out of the room like a toddler.

     “You will of course be expected to be under adult supervision at all times, and you must remain only in the designated areas. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that we are firm believers in corporal punishment-- very firm,” she said with a slow smile. Miley cringed when she thought back to the girl in the corner and her blazing red buns... she couldn’t help but wonder which rule she’d broken... and how long she’d had to spend over Ms. Smythe’s knee. 

     Miley trotted along behind the head matron, obediently holding her hand the whole way. “Here we are,” she said at last, opening the door to a room labelled Changing Centre. Miley reluctantly allowed herself to be led inside and stood by, shocked and horrified by what she saw-- a room which had apparently been designed for the express function of dealing with any type of “accident” that might occur and provide the appropriate level of protection afterwords.

     There was a shower cubicle tucked away in one corner, and a couple of old fashioned wash basins nearby-- perfect for rinse downs or long, slow clean-ups. There was a closet full of little outfits and school uniforms, all sized for adults, but not one of them fit for a girl older than 15. A small medical station that provided thermometers, enema bags, laxatives... even a fridge to keep the suppositories cool. On the nearby shelves, stacks and stacks of diapers sat in cubbyholes stacked almost to the ceiling, each one filled to the top with nearly every variety of commercially available adult diaper-- from store bought “protective undergarments” to specialty brands off the internet like Bambino and Rearz, each one neatly labelled for easy reference.  

     The centrepiece of the room was the custom-made changing table, it’s surface thickly padded like a doctor’s table with a thin paper sheet stretched across it. Beneath, it had shelves for all the supplies, including creams, ointments, oils and powders... it even had a set of stirrups at the bottom, just in case.

     Miley took in her surroundings with her chin on her chest, the overpowering, nurseryesque feeling of the room contributing to her growing sense of helplessness. She stared at the changing table, sweating... surely, she thought, trying to keep her cool, she won’t actually expect me to climb up on that thing so she can put me in a...

     “Come, young lady,” said Ms. Smythe firmly, forcefully helping Miley out of her jacket, “we’ve put it off long enough. It’s time to get you ready to serve out your sentence.”

     “But,” Miley said lamely, hoping to delay the inevitable just a few more precious seconds... but the icy Ms. Smythe wasn’t having any of it.

     “No more ‘buts’, little lady,” she said firmly, unbuttoning her blouse, “except the one I’m going to spank if you don’t start cooperating right this minute young lady!”

Miley gulped, flashing back to the bright red butt-cheeks she’d been staring at in Ms. Smythe’s office and decided not to push her luck. So she stood meekly by and allowed the head matron to strip her of her expensive, designer clothes and dainty, silky underwear, until she stood before her, shivering and naked. Ms. Smythe looked over her cowering charge with a superior smirk, patting the top of the changing table. “Come along dear... it’s time for your diaper,” she said, emphasizing the final word and making Miley shiver.

The head matron helped the nude Miley onto her back on the padded table, making eye contact and grinning at Miley’s adorable blush. She gathered the supplies from under the table, then went to the cubbyholes to select a diaper. “Hhmmm... now what diaper best suits you,” she wondered out loud, causing Miley to squirm on the changing table.  

     “Uumm...” Miley murmured, “maybe we could... mmmpph!” she squealed as a pacifier was quickly pushed into her mouth.  

     She shot a dirty look at Ms. Smythe, who merely said “hush, before going back to the important business of selecting a diaper.

At last she made her choice, and Miley’s cheeks flared bright red when she saw the diaper, thickly padded, decorated with cutesie cartoon animals... and just her size.  

     “Tushy up, sweetheart,” Ms. Smythe said briskly, patting Miley’s thigh for emphasis. Miley hesitantly complied, spurred on by the threat of a spanking. When she returned her butt to the surface of the table, it wasn’t the padding and the paper she felt beneath her soft, pale buns... it was the thick padding of a bulky diaper.

She didn’t get to enjoy the situation for long-- moments later, the head matron easily gathered her ankles into one hand and lifted Miley’s legs clear, exposing her pleasantly rounded buttocks to the room. Her butt-cheeks were rubbed with oil until they glistened, then dusted with powder.

Lowering her back to the table, Ms. Smythe met Miley’s gaze with a pleasant grin, making her blush and look away, the pacifier working it’s way in and out of her mouth. She burned with shame... but deep down, in some repressed part of herself, there was a tiny spark of forbidden pleasure-- she knew, deep down, that this was exactly what she’d wanted the first time she strapped on a diaper and cavorted around in front of the camera. She clenched her fists tightly when the head matron oiled her pussy, and she was unable to suppress a sigh when her glistening slip was dusted with powder and patted in firmly.

At last, the diaper was tugged up tight between her legs. Miley twitch, a powerful, almost electric surge of energy coursing through her body as the thick, padded plastic was pulled up tight against her privates and taped shut, sealing her in. Miley groaned, filled with conflicting feelings... but she didn’t have time to sort them out. Before she knew it, Ms. Smythe was helping her off the table, and soon she was standing before the woman, who was turning her in a tight circle to inspect her new undergarment with a satisfied smile.

     “There!” she said happily, “isn’t that so much better than those designer rags and silky panties?” she asked rhetorically. She went through the closet, selecting a power pink onsie from one of the hangers and tugging it over Miley’s head. Miley frowned behind her soother as the crotch was snapped shut... at least she didn’t have to go around half naked anymore.

     Her hair was banded into pig-tails with two lengths of velvet ribbons. At last, Ms. Smythe was done, and she looked her new charge over with a victorious expression.

     “There! Oh, don’t you just look so darling,” she gushed, reaching out to pinch the scowling Miley’s cheek.  

     “Now that you’ve been appropriately attired,” she began heavily, an ominous smile playing about her lips, “we always like to greet our new arrivals with...”

A meal

A spanking

A rectal temp taking

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