Paperwork

 [Standard Content Warning: This is an ABDL story blog, that means stories on this page contain diapers, diaper usage (like, lots of it), infantilism and the like! In addition, mental and physical manipulation, bondage and nonconsensual or dubiously consensual employment of all of the above themes and many others may also apply. Viewer discretion is advised.] 

[This is a short story I came up with to celebrate everybody's favorite event of the season: Health Insurance Open Enrollment! Mostly I just had a one-sentence idea I thought was funny and decided to write a short story with it. You'll probably be able to figure out the sentence as you read on. If you'd like to submit an idea for a short story, feel free to check out the short story post on Bluesky!]

Honestly, you hadn’t really thought about your health plan much until this point. Your job had good benefits, so you just kinda. Took the default plan and didn’t think about it much beyond that. But over the next couple years, you became aware you weren’t really using your health plan that much but it was still taking a chunk out of your paycheck every two weeks. So, when you got the latest e-mail that Open Enrollment was coming up in November and if you wanted to make changes to your health plan, now was the time, you decided to actually do a little bit of research this time.

In that space of time, you learned more than perhaps you wanted to learn about PPOs, Flexible Spending, pre-tax vs. post-tax contributions, high deductibles and the like, but you eventually found yourself in a work-sponsored webinar for something called an HSA and it more or less made sense. You and your employer would both put money into the account, spend it while you need it and in the meantime, you could also use the account as a mutual fund. Prudently saving for future medical needs and investing in mutual funds are both things adults do! This is a great idea!

So you switched over to the HSA and started planning out how much you were going to contribute it, how you were going to invest it, whether you wanted to hit the maximum, a bunch of very mature, adult things to be doing. While you were doing that research, you just happened to see the bit of information that you could also spend money from your HSA on over-the-counter medications, something that you’re…..pretty sure? You couldn’t do? With your old health plan, although now that you think about it, you never thought to check….but, okay, next time you had a cold or something, you could use your HSA to buy some sudafed? Awesome.

That got you curious what other stuff you could buy, so you found a store online for stuff that was specifically eligible for being purchased through an HSA and apparently the answer was a lot. In addition to a lot of over-the-counter meds, there was skin care stuff, vitamins and supplements and some stuff you weren’t even aware existed, much less was eligible, like a heated massage pad or an electric ear cleaner. You were looking through those and some other electronic gizmos, your outlook starting to change from “I’ll invest for future medical care” to “I wanna buy a cool thing” when another thought passed your mind.

You ignored it and went back to browsing, but then it came back.

But what if…

You rubbed your hand on your cheek for a second and rather than ignore the thought a second time, indulged it, expecting it to be immediately proven incorrect, so you could safely shoo it away for good. You went to the search bar, started typing and hit enter.

‘Incontinence Products - Eligible’

Oh.

Uhhh.

Okay. You gotta be honest, you hadn’t expected that.

It seemed a little unfair to shoo the thought about after that. So, long story short, you used your HSA to buy some incontinence products.

Just two little small details that, frankly, weren’t even that important.

1) You weren’t incontinent. You were buying them for, let’s call it, “recreation”.

2) You didn’t use the HSA store website or any medical supplies website. You went to a website that specialized in selling incontinence products to the non-incontinent for, let’s call it, “recreation”.

The charge, to your unending shock, actually went through and a short time later, your package arrived. You couldn’t help giving the package a little hug as you pulled it out of its box - yeah, typical incontinence products didn’t tend to have pink pow designs on the front and back. These were just….diapers made for adults that liked to wear diapers.

And you really, really, really liked wearing these ones. You liked the way they felt in your hands. You liked the way they felt sliding them under your bottom. You liked the way they felt as you pulled them up and taped them in place. You liked the way they felt warm and fuzzy against your skin. You liked the way they felt when you walked, the way they walked when you sat down.

And, yes, you liked the way they felt when the front of them got warm and wet and you especially liked the way they squished against you when you pressed down a bit with your fingers….

You could get used to this.

—

You really wish you hadn’t gotten used to this.

It had been going so well at first. Your employer made their regular contribution to your HSA. And then you spent, you know, a small portion of it buying more diapers. You were still saving up, technically! Just not in that mature investing thinking for the future way you had been before.

Then, you got an e-mail from HR that said they needed to talk to you about “Healthcare Compliance”.

You stared at the e-mail for a few seconds. Then you started looking up the logistics of fleeing the country and starting over in Mexico. You spent a little longer looking up common words in Spanish than you’re proud of admitting before you decided to just respond to the e-mail.

So that was why you were sitting in a room in the HR department, staring at the floor and willing it to open up and swallow you whole while one of the HR ladies tapped away at her computer.

“Sooooooooooooooo,” she says, lightly brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “I’ve just been looking through some of your receipts, and I wanted to discuss this website right here. This isn’t an approved medical supplier, is it?”

She turns her laptop around to show the website you buy your pink-bow diapers from. You think about walking out right now and starting a new life in Canada. Instead, you give a little shake of your head.

“Okay. So.” She turns her laptop back around and starts typing. “If what happened here is that you made an unqualified purchase from your Health Savings Account with you have to either reimburse your account before the end of the year, or you’ll be charged the income tax, plus a 20% penalty when you file your taxes…”

You let out a breath. That’s…honestly not that bad. It’s become very clear to you in this moment, you should’ve just been buying the things with your own money in the first place.

“And we’re supposed to write up instances of healthcare fraud and abuse to go in the employee’s file…” She looks at you. “You did watch the compliance video on the difference between fraud, waste and abuse, right?” You nod, a grimace forming on your face. Having to pay back the money isn’t that bad, but.

“Does this….really have to go in my file?” You ask. Besides any kind of disciplinary action probably hurting your prospects for a promotion down the line, the idea of anything remotely close to “bought diapers with company healthcare” going into your file makes you want to burst into flames.

“Well….that’s where things get kinda murky,” the HR lady says with a little sigh of her own. “See, I’m not actually allowed to ask whether or not you suffer from any particular medical conditions or maladies. Y’know. The Americans With Disabilities Act. And I can only write this up as an abuse of the employee healthcare plan if I, y’know, know you actually abused it.” By this point, she’s stopped typing on her computer and started rummaging in her desk. “So to unravel all of this I would have to figure out something that I’m not actually allowed to figure out and then even if I do, it’s gonna require me to have, like, two meetings and fill out, like, three forms.”

You furrow your brow. The thought ‘isn’t forms and meetings basically 100% of what HR work is?’ crosses your mind, but you don’t voice it, because it kinda sounds like she’s talking herself into not writing you up and if that’s the case, she can take whatever road she wants to get there.

“So, I think I have a better option.” She starts pulling something out of her desk. You blink once. At first you think it’s some kinda stick, but she keeps pulling and pulling until you’re pretty sure this thing is not only too big to have fit in that desk drawer, it’s bigger than the desk and it’s taller than her. It’s a long….wooden, gnarled…pole? With some kind of jewel embedded at the top. It looks like something Gandalf should be carrying around. “Something that’ll make all of this much, much simpler.”

“….is that a staff?” You ask. She looks at it and lets out an interested little ‘hm!’ sound.

“Yeah, it is!” She says. You two stare at each other for a second. Then she thrusts the staff at you and a blinding green light fills the room.

—

So, good news, bad news.

The good news was, you didn’t need to worry about using silly workarounds to get your diapers anymore. Those were just kinda provided to you very easily now, with all of the pink bow designs you could possibly want.

The bad news was a little bit more complicated.

For one, it was a good thing you could get your diapers easily now, because now you did need them! You were, in fact, extremely incontinent now. The HR lady’s opposition to doing paperwork had been so strong that she had pulled out an actual for real witch staff and cast actual for real witch magic on you to make you incontinent, so that your purchase hadn’t been unauthorized in the first place! Now that you actually needed the diapers, there had been no malfeasance whatsoever and no need for you to reimburse your HSA or get written up. Great.

Except for the fact that you didn’t have a job or an HSA anymore anyway. Because for you to keep dating your at-the-time new girlfriend, you both would’ve had to fill out forms attesting to the company that you were in a relationship. But your at-the-time new girlfriend really isn’t that big on paperwork. So she had figured it’d be an easier solution for you to just quit and move in with her.

That time you actually did voice your opinion that her having such a strong aversion to filling out forms didn’t make much sense, given how intrinsic a part of having an HR job paperwork was. She then very calmly explained that her outlook was a complex, multifaceted one and they could discuss it and in turn discuss all of their options for your continued employment, but that would take hours and would cut deeply into the amount of time she could spend that night on touching your diapers the way that you liked.

It took you a few minutes of flustering and getting your gumption back up, but you managed to ask her if she really thought that was gonna convince you to end a career you’d been working on for the better part of half a decade just so you could get groped a little sooner. Then she pointed out that if you didn’t look for another job after you quit this one, she could file you as a dependent with a disability and in addition to the tax credits, her need to care for you would also let her do her job fully remote, which would mean she could touch you whenever you two wanted.

You stammered out something about how you only had a disability because she hexed you. She coyly replied there was nothing in the tax code about hexes. Then her hand went in between your legs and gave your diaper a squeeze. Only then did you realize it was significantly wetter than you had been aware.

It didn’t occur to you for a few weeks after that between her permanent remote work request and the tax credits she planned to take advantage of, she’d made significantly more paperwork for herself than if she’d just done the relatively meager relationship attestation with you in the first place, not to mention the three forms and two meetings she’d found so unappetizing that had set this whole thing off in the first place. But, you had already been unemployed for a few weeks by the time you realized it, so, it didn’t seem relevant anymore.

Which brings you to today, a day like many others over the past few months. The unique thing about today is that your girlfriend is hosting one of her friends - not one of the friends where she has to cast some quick magic around the house to make it so nobody thinks there’s anything amiss about your situations. This friend has her own staff (purple gem instead of green), her own big floppy black hat and her own robes.

You on the other hand are dressed in pink skirted overalls with a pacifier clipped to them. She doesn’t make a big deal about it and you two politely introduce yourselves and make small talk about what you’ve heard about each other and how you’ve been looking forward to meeting…until you abruptly stop and your body tenses up a bit.

That’s another part of the bad news. When she hexed you, she was, if nothing else, quite thorough. Incontinent means incontinent. You can barely even tell when you’re wetting yourself anymore, forget putting in any sort of effort to stop it. The other side of it is honestly….sometimes, a little bit worse. Because you can feel it. Just a bit. But far, far, far too late to do anything about it.

So in the middle of your adult conversation with your girlfriend’s friend, your knees buckle a bit and you bend down and the next thing you know, you feel your body….pushing. The familiar feeling of something warm and mushy building up beneath your bottom quickly follows, as your face heats up and you think about how difficult it would be to run away and start a new life in France.

“Ohhhh…eheheheh. I guess this is that condition of yours she mentioned,” the friend says. She walks around and picks up the back of your skirt, getting a look for herself as the back of your diaper continues to expand outwards. She strokes the top of your head. “It’s okay, it’s okay….” She says above your whimpering.

“Awww, you got a little bashful all of a sudden, didn’t you?” Your girlfriend joins in, putting a hand on your shoulder. You stare down at the ground and try to think about anything else while you keep filling your diapers and their cooing only continues as their hands start wandering. The friend kisses you on the cheek while your girlfriend hugs your waist. Before you know it, your skirt has been hiked up against and one hand is rubbing the front of your diaper while the other lightly massages the back. When you open your mouth to say something, your pacifier is plopped into your mouth and you go back to staring at the ground while you’re hugged and kissed and fondled all through your diaper-fouling episode. Eventually, the petting and the accident are both done and you get a final nose-nuzzle from your girlfriend before you see an idea come to her eyes.

“Oh, what if we went for a walk and I show you around the area?” She asks her friend. Her friend glances at you for a half-second, then nods in agreement. “Great! You get the stroller ready, it’s in the front closet. I’ll get the diaper bag.”

And you’re taken by the hand, and you know exactly how this episode is going to go. You, buckled into your stroller, stewing in your horniness and your messy diaper for what feels like forever while these two walk around and make small talk. For all of one second, the thought of begging the friend to at least finish you off surfaces, but she’s set up the stroller and you’re dutifully getting inside before you know it. You whimper and whine as you sit down on your full bottom. The friend giggles, kisses you on the cheek again and buckles you in just as your girlfriend returns with your diaper bag. You admit don’t know whether she’s going to leave you in your mess for the entire walk or if she’s going to find a suitably public place to cast a normalcy spell and change you in front of a bunch of people. This far into your relationship, you’ve kind of come to the conclusion that hoping for one or the other would be kind of missing the point.

They finish buckling you into the stroller, but right as your girlfriend opens the door, her friend stops her.

“Oh, hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What?”

“So, you said you did this with an incontinence hex?” She asks. “And you used the staff the witching order gave you, right?” Your girlfriend quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” The friend looks at you. Then at your girlfriend.

“Well, I mean.” The friend puts her hands on her hips. “Does that count as a qualified hex?”

Your girlfriend blinks a couple of times. Then, her eyes get really big.

You take a particularly thoughtful suck of your pacifier and wonder how much paperwork something like this is gonna kick up.