Regression Crisis Issue Thirty Two (Patreon)

The Princess' downfall continues! If you're still enjoying the story, please be sure to leave a like and comment below!

She awoke with a start, greeted with the sight of wooden bars looming over her on all sides. Kicking her covers off revealed a nearly translucent pink nightgown and a thick diaper beneath a set of ruffled, pink satin panties that bulged to contain it. The plastic of the diaper crinkled with every little move-- a reminder of what she’d been reduced to... and what happened during her last encounter with Wolfe.

     Her cheeks flushed bright red just thinking about it. Not only had the proud, powerful, respected Warrior Princess been reduced to the status of a helpless, wriggling Adult Baby, unable to even stand under her own power, she’d been forced by her enemy to not only fill her diaper with an apocalyptic bowel movement, but then brought her to a mind melting orgasm while she sat in her mess. And the worst part? The worst part was that she couldn’t even hate him for it... in fact, just thinking about it had her pussy all moist in her pampers...

Great Hera, what’s wrong with me?! She scolded herself angrily. I’m not some weak little girl! Wolfe may have robbed me of my strength, but I’m still Wonder Woman, damnit! I am a princess and a warrior of Themyscira! I might be down... but as long as a warrior possesses her fighting spirit, she’s never defeated!

With great difficulty, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, then, using the bars of the crib, pulled herself up, slowly, until she stood unsteadily at the edge peering over the top and wondering how she was going to make her escape. Before her encounter with Wolfe’s nanites, vaulting over the side would have been child’s play... but now, weak as a kitten, it took all of her strength to merely stand with wobbling knees at the side and look out longingly over the top of the bars.

     She gazed out over the nursery beyond the crib, it’s toy strewn floor and pastel pink and blue walls making her feel even more infantile than before... and all the more determined to escape! She scanned the room, eyes peeled for a tool she might use to pry a vent loose, or some sort of seam in the wall or floor... anything she might be able to use to turn this situation to her advantage.

A noise behind her drew her attention. Diana turned just in time to see the bars on the other side of the crib descend under it’s own power with a subtle, mechanical hum. She watched it go, warily, until the entire side of the crib was open... waiting for her to exit.

Slowly, cautiously, she crawled to the edge and slid out feet first, dropping softly to her hands and knees on the thickly carpeted floor. A quick glance around the room revealed no windows or doors-- none she could see, anyway. Diana glanced around, her eyes scanning through the discarded toys and the adult sized baby furniture for something she might be able to use to her advantage.

     A pitiful grumble from her stomach reminded her that it had probably been hours since the last time she’d eaten. She frowned, scanning the room for clues. Had Wolfe gone to all this trouble just to let her starve? It didn’t seem like his M.O., but who knew with a man like that? He was clearly unhinged...

     Another mechanical humming sound drew her attention to one of the walls. She glanced over and saw a panel sliding open on a nearby wall. Hesitantly, she crawled over to take a look inside, but her nose told her what was there before she was even halfway: someone had send her some food, and she was pretty sure she knew what it was.

A quick glance inside confirmed her suspicions, and she sighed when she was greeted with the sight of a large, plastic container filled with a copious helping of steaming hot oatmeal, a big plastic spoon sticking out of the top, fastened onto a plastic tray. Turning up her nose haughtily, she crawled in the opposite direction, determined to maintain her dignity.  

She crawled a few feet, but froze when she heard a mechanical buzzing trailing after her. Turning, she frowned when she saw that the tray was following her, attached to some sort of tiny robot. Diana tried to ignore it as she crawled across the floor.

Her newly weakened muscles had soon reached their limit. Exhausted, the amazon princess plopped herself down in a nearby beanbag chair to mull over her next move. She let out a huff of irritation when the machine pulled up in front of her, the food tantalizingly close.  

Gritting her teeth in frustration, she considered sweeping the contents of the tray onto the floor with her hand, but she found herself distracted once again by more humming. Diana watched, curious, as a panel in the wall lifted away, revealing a black screen that soon flickered to life. The screen was soon filled with the bright, swirling colours of a cartoon... no doubt intended to remind her of her new status in life, she thought, rolling her eyes.  

But a funny thing happened... as the sound and colour of the cartoon began washing over her, Diana found herself strangely drawn to it. Her eyes were glued to the screen, virtually unblinking, and she strained her ears to listen to the music, dedicating 100% of her focus to it. Focus, hell... she was practically mesmerized by it, and the longer she stared at the screen, the more she felt herself drawn deeper and deeper into it’s world of music and colour. And she was aware of the hollow pain in her guts, the hungry rumble that was her only source of discomfort at the moment...

Before she was even aware of it, she’d taken the tub and began greedily spooning the oatmeal into her mouth, slowly at first, then with greater relish. She took the bowl off the tray and held it in her lap, eating greedily as the machine retreated back into it’s cubbyhole, the panel sliding shut behind it. Eyes glazed, she stared into the screen, the shapes, colours and sounds flowing through her, emptying her mind and leaving her in a blank state as she rhythmically spooned, chewed and swallowed the bland, gooey mush.

The princess ate like a pig, stuffing her face with the bland oatmeal, smearing her lips and chin in her almost frantic efforts to consume the contents of the bowl, chewing loudly and swallowing as quickly as she could to free up space in her mouth for the next spoonful. The bowl got lighter and her belly got heavier, now uncomfortable not from hunger but from overeating.

Diana noisily stuffed her face, all her royal etiquette and haughty manners pushed aside in her quest to finish the oatmeal. When she began to feel too full, she’d pause to belch loudly, and on one occasion, she lifted a leg to let out a fart that left her feeling ten pounds lighter. Crinkling her nose against the smell, she immediately returned to her eating, compelled by a force beyond her will to shovel as much of the oatmeal down her gullet as humanly possible.  

By the time the bowl was empty, her belly was stretched so full and tight she could barely move, could scarcely do anything but sink into the beanbag chair and belch contentedly. The flashing and sound emanating from the screen grew brighter, louder, faster, the intensity building...  

The fullness in her tummy led again to the now familiar uncomfortable gassy cramping building in her bowels. Without thinking, she lifted up a butt-cheek and cut a noisy ripper, not even trying to hold it in, not even sure she could anymore. Her guts cramped and burbled loudly, struggling to keep up with the truly heroic amount of food she’d consumed.  

Her mind as blank as a broken TV, Diana slid out of her seat, finding herself on her hands and knees on the floor, her gaze fixed on the carpet, her stuffed belly hanging heavily beneath her. Diana’s ears tuned to the music and sound effects emanating from the screen, listening for some cue she didn’t remember.

Suddenly, she found herself bending forward, sticking her rump up in the air behind her, her diaper crinkling under her nightgown. Eyes glazed, drool running down her chin, Diana began absently grunting to herself...