Regression Crisis Issue Forty One (Patreon)

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Dr. Harleen Quinzel, AKA Harley Quinn, former supervillain turned semi-hero and current involuntarily Adult Baby, yawned and stretched herself awake from a nap, her thick diaper crinkling underneath her with every move. A quick squeeze of her thighs confirmed that she’d pissed herself in her sleep again. She blushed, even as the realization started making her horny... every day, she lost a little more control of her body, but her mind remained as sharp as it ever was. The sense of powerlessness was diabolically kinky and kept her in a state of arousal throughout most of the day.

Around her, the other regressed heroines still slumbered, stretched out on the floor atop thickly padded sleeping mats, their blankets pulled tightly around them as they slept. It brought a smile to Harley’s lips when she saw a number of padded, plastic diaper booties sticking out from beneath the blankets, and a quick sniff of the air confirmed that at least one of them had a dirty diaper... probably Batgirl-- her bowels had been acting up ever since Zatanna cast her little spell on her. Harley snickered at the thought.

Reaching down with both hands, she pressed and squeezed the warm, soggy fabric of the diaper, feeling it squish moistly against her pussy, which was kept as smooth and hairless as possible by the team of gorgeous nannies that tended to their needs. Harley groaned, pressing and rubbing the pamper up against her privates, savouring the humiliation and helplessness of her situation.

With the exception of Angela Chen, the nosy, obnoxious journalist Wolfe had humiliated, regressed, and assigned to ‘cover’ the events in the nursery, Harley was the only one in the room who retained her full intellect, memories, and personality... as such, she was frequently board. But she had a few hobbies, ways to spice up her day and have a little fun. One of these was masturbating, which she generally did several times a day. Of course, the Nannies frowned on this behaviour, and often doled out painful bare bottom spankings if anyone got caught with their hand in their pampers... but it was still easy to find a little privacy for a quick orgasm, and nap time was usually a prime opportunity.

But today, before she could slip her sly little hand inside the waistband, the door to the nursery swung open, and in came one of the impossibly tall, nearly identical nurses with the perfect blond hair that Harley was sure came out of a tank in a lab somewhere. Each one had been assigned a numerical designation, but only Wolfe seemed to be able to tell them apart. The residents of the nursery simply referred to them collectively as Nanny.

Walking briskly across the carpet in her crisp, white, uniform, she glanced down at her sleeping charges, ensuring that all was well. On her back, Harley pretended to nap, using the opportunity to glance up the woman’s skirt and sneak a peek at her sexy satin panties. She stared, studying the outline of her pussy and the alluring swell of her butt-cheeks with a sly smile, her privates dripping wet.

Once the woman was gone, Harley turned herself over on her stomach, thrust her hands between her legs, and humped with reckless abandon, biting a lip to stifle her groans as she frantically chased her orgasm, the smell of a dirty diaper lingering in her nose.

After their nap, it was lunchtime. Meals in the nursery were decent, but bland, usually based around the thick, pasty oatmeal they got for breakfast, lunch and dinner, usually served with fruit or vegetable (and for dinner, a little fish or chicken carefully cut up into bite sized pieces.) Lunch was Harley’s favourite, since it usually came with a heaping helping of Wolfe’s special beans. The combination of the highly fibrous oatmeal and the super gassy beans allowed Harley to indulge in another one of her hobbies-- toilet humour.

Of course, listening to the stuck-up heroines blasting farts or loudly messing their diapers was always good for a chuckle, and Harley was always sure to point and laugh at the guilty party to heap on as much embarrassment as she could. But she also enjoyed ripping ass herself, and she loved nothing more than plopping down next to one of the prissy former superheroines, lifting up a butt cheek and blasting out a really gross, wet one, then watching the reaction as they squealed, blushed, or pinched their noses closed, often shooting her a withering glance.

In the afterglow of her lunch, Harley sat back and belched lazily, her diapers crinkling, scanning the nursery and looking for a chance for mischief. The heroines were dressed in parodies of their costumes, many of them sporting cute little t-shirts with their symbols on the front and a little cape sewn into the back, and even Harley still had her hair banded up in her trademark pigtails as she scanned the nursery with mayhem in her eyes.

She quickly spotted her opportunity. Supergirl was rubbing her tummy and glancing around nervously. As quietly as possible, she crawled into the playhouse, seemingly looking for a little privacy... and Harley had an idea about why. She watched the adorable blonde crawl inside, her big diaper butt wagging in the air behind her. Harley waited a few moments, then followed her inside.

The “playhouse” consisted of a tunnel that served as it’s entrance, followed by a room with some small chairs and a low table, big enough to allow all the girls to have a tea party, with room for at least a couple more. Harley crawled inside as quietly as she could, stifling a giggle when she heard a gentle grunt from within. She peeked into the main room and did a quick scan for the pretty blond ex-superhero.

She quickly found her: the former Metropolis Marvel was squatting in the corner, grunting and straining as she pushed out a major load into the seat of her pampers. Harley clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles as she watched the load in the back of Kara’s diaper grow heavier and lumpier behind her with every push.

But when Supergirl passed gas loudly, Harley couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. She barked out a loud guffaw, and continued as the red-faced kryptonian peeked back over her shoulder at her, mortified.

“It stinks in here!” Harley loudly proclaimed, staring at Kara with mischief gleaming in her eye as she finished crawling inside. “What are you up to? It smells like you’ve been farting in here.” Harley put her hands on her hips and gave her a faux stern look. “You’d better tell Big Sister Harley what you’ve been up to!”

Kara looked back over her shoulder, quivering with embarrassment. It was far too late for her to stop what she was doing (her control over her bowels was spotty at the best of times), so she could only whimper when she just farted in response to Harley’s question, her diaper growing heavier beneath her with a crackling squish.

“Phew-wee!” Harley said, fanning her face. “Smells like somebody’s makin’ a poopy diaper!”

More gassy squelches emerge from Kara’s pampers, which were turning lumpy and brown.

“P-U! More like Poopergirl, am I right?” Harley said with a laugh. She came crawling over, reaching out to pat the warm, lumpy seat of Supergirl’s pampers.

“C’mon, Superstinker-- pack those pampers full for Big Sister Harley!”