[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.]
“—hhh!”
Alma’s head snapped up as she came to. She looked up, then to her left, then to her right. She immediately tried to stand up, to no avail. Her arms similarly didn’t move. She blinked her eyes a couple times as her vision unblurred and her full conscious understanding came back for her to realize she was sitting in a chair and had lengths of ribbon holding her arms and legs in place.
That part was bad.
“…oh. Great.”
The part that really sucked was realizing all four of those ghost girls were floating right above her. Alma’s first thought was that she really wasn’t looking forward to any of what was about to come next, specifically, hearing these four runts gloat her. But after a second, her eyes suddenly narrowed and she looked around some more and spotted —
“Zoe!”
Zoe looked up. Alma saw the look of shame on her face and the way she immediately broke eye contact. It did not inspire any sense of hesitation or forgiveness in her.
“I’m gonna beat the snot out of the four of you!” She said to the ghosts hovering over her. “Which is NOTHING compared to what I’m gonna do to you, Zoe! You asshole!” Zoe put a hand on top of her head and stared straight down at the floor. Before, the ghosts had been terrified of Alma’s anger. Now that it was being directed at somebody else (and she was too tied up to actually act on it), they couldn’t be more amused, all giggling to themselves.
“You’d better play nice with your friends, Alma! Or you’re gonna get in trouble!” Mint said, winking and wagging a finger at her.
“You aren’t my friend, y’little freaks,” Alma growled. The ghost girls exchanged a look at each other and all grinned at her. Licorice tilted her head.
“We disagree.”
They all lunged at her from different angles. Four different sets of ghostly arms all wrapped around Alma at the same time. She closed her eyes and braced herself, thinking they were gonna start punching her or yanking at her or maybe even pull her hair or something, but instead they were…hugging her?
Then the first kiss came, planted right on her left cheek. Then another, on her right, then Lemon took out her pacifier and kissed her right on the lips.
“Puhh — pwuhh!” Alma tried to spit the taste of the kiss out. She shook her head, blinking a couple times. “Stop it, you little weirdo—mmph!” She was interrupted by another kiss on the lips, this time from Choco. It tasted, fittingly enough, kind of like chocolate.
“Hehe - I’m sorry, I interrupted.” Choco ducked her head in apology. “What was that you were trying to say?”
“I said stop—”
“Mmmm!” Choco leaned forward again and kissed her midsentence. The brown-haired ghost’s eyes sparkled as she saw Alma’s eyes glaze over a bit, her gaze getting further away. “Oh, I’m sorry, I did it again! Please, go on.”
“What’s goin’ - what’s happe—”
“Mmmwah!” Choco’s lips met hers again. Mint decided three times was enough and lightly shoved Choco out of the way so she could start locking lips with her instead. Choco barely seemed put out by it and instead joined Licorice in planting more pecks on her right cheek.
Alma kept trying to move her head out of the way, with little luck. Not just because she disliked the ghost girls and didn’t feel like rewarding their behavior by letting them all get to first base, although that was a factor, and not just because all of their kisses tasted like candy and she didn’t want her mouth tasting like candy, although that was also a factor. The main reason was because each kiss was making it harder to…concentrate.
‘They’re usin’ weird ghost magic to mess with my head. I can’t get any incantations out and I can’t use my hands!’ She blinked her eyes opened and closed a few times. ‘Dammit, why didn’t I learn silent incantations.’ She tried to tilt her head away from a kiss from one, only for another to be right there and smooch her on the lips instead.
“Hehe! See! I’m her favorite! She just went towards me, that proves it!” Licorice said.
“Hmmmph.” Lemon, the one who’d been turned away from, grumbled and tilted Alma back towards her.
‘They’re all small hits, but they keep doin’ em over and over. I can’t. Nnn!’ She shook her head. ‘C’mon. Concentrate. You’re a witch. You trained for this. C’mon! Remember your training, dammit! Remember your training! Remember your….remember! Remember!’
She closed her eyes tightly and focused, trying to find something, anything, to hook onto. A rock she could grab to withstand this flood of tiny girly kisses.
…
…
She was slinging a backpack on, one shoulder, then the other. A series of people hugged her, first uncles and aunts, then cousins, then her sisters, then finally, her grandmother.
She asked Alma a question. She slowly nodded in response.
Then, another woman, a tall woman, taller than her grandmother, approached Alma. She held a hand out. Alma took her hand. Alma looked back at her family one last time, then they walked away together.
…
A bell rung, signaling the end of the school day. She tossed her books into her bag. Another girl grabbed her by the wrist and invited her to come with a group of them to the mall. She hesitated for a second, then murmured something about practice. She was asked what she was practicing for, since they never saw her in any of the school teams or clubs. She rushed out something about a private tutor and left.
Part of her really wished she just said yes. Over the next several years, she would find a spot to lock that part of her up somewhere where it would be quiet.
…
She opened the mailbox. There was a package inside. She opened it up. There was a card bearing a cake with fifteen candles on it. She opened the card. It was signed by everybody and had little written messages.
She looked in the package again. There were photos and hand-made sweets. She grabbed one of them and put it in the oven for a few minutes to reheat it.
She ate it outside while she looked through the photos. She barely recognized her cousins now, all six years older than the last time she saw them.
She looked up and saw a mother and a daughter walking down the sidewalk, the daughter excitedly telling her about her day at school. The daughter was wearing a backpack over her shoulder that at that moment, for some reason, looked familiar to her.
She took in a breath through her nose that started wavering. She closed her eyes to stop her from looking at the photos or the mother and daughter again. She kept them closed for so long, she didn’t notice anyone approaching her until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She startled and looked up. There was a tall woman standing there next to her.
She held a cupcake with a lit candle in it in one hand. She set it down in front of Alma and then sat down next to her.
Alma leaned into her tutor’s chest and let out another long, wavering breath. She wrapped an arm around her shoulder and held her close.
…
She was angry. She was yelling at her tutor. This wasn’t the first (and wouldn’t be the last) time this had happened.
She was demanding to know what she had done wrong. She was demanding to know which subject she had screwed up or which hidden lesson she hadn’t properly absorbed. Her tutor just infuriatingly repeated herself that this was normal. Every witch who wanted to serve the coven, when they turned 18, was given this kind of a duty. Moreover, the contract was already signed and her new employer - her new partner - was expecting to meet her soon.
She didn’t buy it. She believed fully in her mind, no matter how much her tutor insisted it wasn’t the case, that there was no way this could possibly be happening as anything other than a punishment. Or even worse, an outright rejection of her ability as a witch.
How could it be anything else? How could the coven possibly be taking her seriously while asking her to work with something called a “Supernatural Sweets Hunter”?
…
She tried to focus on those memories. Memories were power. Memories told her who she was. But each kiss made them a little foggier, made her grip slip a little bit more. She was dimly aware the ghost girls were arguing over who her ‘favorite’ was now and were trying to each prove it by getting the most kisses on the lips with her. All she could do was try to maneuver her head away from them, but to them, it was just a game, now. Who could guess which way her head would move first and be right there to kiss her and giggle in her ears.
She couldn’t get away from them. She tried to keep her eyes closed, but the four ghost girls were dominating all of the rest of her senses. She was hearing and smelling and feeling and tasting them and it was filling her head up until she was filled with all different colors of fluffy cotton candy and she couldn’t keep anything straight anymore.
She tried to focus again. On that one moment. The most important moment of her life. She was 9 years old. She was putting on her backpack. She was…
…
…
She was standing in front of a building. She looked around anxiously and walked inside.
There was a woman waiting there. She introduced herself as Ida.
Ida was a little strange. She didn’t have legs and Alma could kind of see through her. But she was very nice. Ida reached out and offered a hand to Alma. She took it.
Ida wrote her name on a board at the bottom. Seeing her name with all those others, she felt a sense of ease.
…
She stood by the windows, sometimes. Watching people go by the daycare. Friends. Families. Parents and children.
Sometimes she stayed there for too long, watching them all go by. Sometimes it made her sad for reasons she didn’t entirely understand. But when she stayed there too long, one of her friends usually came to get her.
This time, it was Choco. Choco invited her to play a game with the rest of them. She joined them and they all played together. As usual, it ended with Mint and Licorice arguing over who was the winner. She didn’t mind. It was fun, just spending time with her friends this way.
…
She was standing in front of a wall. The board hung up on the wall. Ida gave her a sad shake of the head and put a storm cloud sticker on one of the square’s next to Ida’s name. It wasn’t the only sticker of that type next to Ida’s name.
Her hands were balled up into fists at her sides. She felt embarrassed. Humiliated. Ida gave her a hug and told her something comforting.
She was laid backwards. Her underwear were pulled off of her and she was methodically cleaned up. Ida stopped in the middle to pull up her short and blow a raspberry on her chest. She let out a shocked squeal that turned into a giggle by the end. Ida said she knew she could get a smile out of her.
As she went back to cleaning her up, Ida mentioned that if an 18-year old can fail at potty training, then it means potty training must not be that important, because Alma was very very good at being 18 years old. She wasn’t sure about that logic, but, by the time her nanny was sliding a diaper under her bottom and taping it up, she wasn’t feeling so ashamed. She was actually starting to feel a little better.
When Ida picked her back up onto her feet, she smiled and hugged her nanny.
…
…
…
“Huuuh…”
Alma’s head leaned forward. She blinked a few times. She looked down at herself.
“Why’m I tied to this chair?”
“Oh. Uhm. That’s.” Licorice looked at the other ghosts, searching for an explanation and coming up with none. Choco raised a hand.
“We were playing a game?” She offered.
“Well why’d we have to play a game that ties me up?” Alma muttered, still shaking out the wooziness. She blinked a couple times, then smacked her lips. “My face feels weird.” Her eyes narrowed. “Were you guys all taking turns kissing me?” The ghosts looked between each other and then let out nervous giggles. Then they nodded. Alma let out a groan. “My face is all covered up in your weird-tasting lipstick again, isn’t iiiiit?!” She exclaimed, kicking her legs, or, doing an approximation of it.
“It tastes good!” Licorice insisted. Lemon popped out her pacifier.
“Who’s your favorite?” She asked. Alma let out a huff.
“I shouldn’t even pick a favorite cause it’s just rewarding your guys’ bad behavior…” She wriggled in her seat a bit more and looked away, before murmuring, “Choco, I guess,” under her breath.
“Awwwww!”
“C’moooon!” Licorice and Mint were both disappointed. Choco was practically sparkling as she zipped through the air and hugged Alma.
“Thank you, Alma!” She said, elated.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” She grumbled. “Can y’untie me alreadyyyyy?” She asked.
“Oh! Yes, of course!” Choco said and started undoing the ribbons tying her to the chair. The others joined in and a few seconds later, Alma was standing up.
“Okay, I gotta wash my fac-eeeeeee!” Alma winced as she felt her skirt get pulled up from behind. Lemon was looking at her butt and the panties adorning said butt.
“Big girl undies,” Lemon said, then put her pacifier back in.
“Huh, yeah.” Licorice grabbed her skirt from the front and lifted it up as well. “Alma, why’re you wearing panties?”
“G-guys, stop messing with my skirt!” Alma said, tugging it away. “I’m just. I.” She blinked a couple times. “I’m wearing panties cause I’m potty trained! What’s the big deal?!” The ghosts looked at each other. Licorice gave Mint a subtle nod.
“Uh, didn’t Ida put you back in diapers last week?” Mint asked.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought happened, ‘cause you had three messy days in a row the last time you tried potty training,” Licorice added.
“Wait, I…” Alma rubbed her head. “Y-yeah. I did? I…did. Oh man.” She whimpered. “I thought I was doing so good too.”
“Yeah, I know,” Licorice sighed, patting her on the shoulder. “But if Ida checks you and sees those, she’s gonna get upset, y’know? You want us to put you in a diaper so that doesn’t happen?”
Alma let out a sigh and nodded.
“Y-yeah,” she said. Then a little smile came to her face. “Thanks guys.” The ghosts grinned at each other.
“No problem, Alma!”
“Yeah! What’re friends for?”
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