Lottie Takes The Back Way

Originally written for HenryHiggins

Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):

Charlotte peeked out of the door and looked left and right, her heart pounding. Down the road, she saw people passing by. A couple, a young mum, a gaggle of schoolkids in neon vests, tailed by a weary-looking teacher – every time she thought it was safe, another body strolled into view. Why couldn’t everybody just go home?

Why couldn’t she just go home? She looked back into the house and her uncle’s voice rang out.

“Out. And don’t come back until you’ve got all the items on the list.”

“But – but why do I have to go to the big supermarket? It’s right at the end of town!”

“Because the smaller ones don’t stock everything I need. Any more whining and I may decide I’ve been too lenient with Little Lottie. Now, out and get on with it.”

Charlotte whimpered, then stamped in frustration, snatched the bags from the hook by the door and pulled it to behind her. She looked furtively round once more, and waited until the only passer-by was a blind woman navigating with her cane, before setting briskly off.

Not even a coat! Apparently if it wasn’t cold, she didn’t need one. Nothing to cover up the mortifying outfit her uncle had dressed her in.

This latest monstrosity was a punishment for swearing. It was worse than any he’d forced her into before, and she prayed none of the lads from the park were around to see her.

She wore a baby-pink dress with fussy puff sleeves and the legend “Princess” emblazoned across the front in curly stitching. Beneath the fitted bodice, a full pink cupcake skirt reached halfway down her thighs, buoyed by a foam of petticoats. It bobbed like a jellyfish’s mantle, swishing and rustling mercilessly. The hem was trimmed with lace and still more bows, to add to the humiliation. A huge pink hair bow frosted with white lace sat in her newly-styled curls. He’d threatened her with a bonnet, then relented, keeping that back for another time.

But that wasn’t the worst part. She blushed and scowled as she thought of what she wore beneath all this frou-frou horror.

Her uncle had asked her three times to go out to the shops in her “nice Sunday dress”, and each time she had refused, finally screaming at him that he couldn’t make her, amid a flurry of expletives. Finally, she had grabbed hold of a china statuette of a dancing girl from the mantle and hurled it to the floor, smashing it to pieces.

That’s when he had produced the photos. Tens of them, of her in all the different little-girly outfits he’d made her wear, taken by a hidden camera. Romper suits with frilly seats, lavender dresses with nursery prints, frocks in satin, tulle, silk and chiffon – if it was obnoxiously girly, he had made her wear it. And she’d thought it need never leave these hated walls. There was even a snap of her curtseying demurely, lifting up her lacy skirts to reveal ruffled panties; that had been achieved only with a very hard caning, but of course the casual observer couldn’t see that.

“I wonder what your friends from football would make of these, Little Lottie,” mused her uncle. “I’m sure they’d be very interested in seeing what a cute little girl you can be.”

Charlotte had turned pale and retched, hearing in her mind the laughter that would greet her every time she stepped outside, should he publish these pictures. She felt her knees grow weak at the thought.

“You CAN’T!” she began.

“Particularly this adorable little set,” said her uncle, pulling out a selection featuring Charlotte, blue dummy in mouth, staring daggers at the camera, wearing only a nappy.

“You…You….” She shook her head in horror, then pursed her lips and punched the sofa cushions furiously. She was beaten.

Before she was sent out, her uncle put her over his knee, took down her white panties and began to smack her bottom. She yelped dejectedly as he swatted her pink then red, using a slipper for the final six smacks.

“Owwwwww!” She leapt up at the end and hopped around, holding her bottom.

“Now then,” said Uncle. “I was just going to send you out in your pretty little dress, but I think since you’ve been particularly naughty today, you’re also going to be wearing something for very little girls.”

“No…NO…” moaned Charlotte, backing away with her hands over her mouth. She knew what was coming. Sure enough, her uncle rustled about in a deep drawer and pulled out an adult disposable nappy. He spread it open on the bed, highly amused at his niece’s horrified look.

“Yes, I thought you’d finally outgrown nappies too, but there we go,” said her uncle. “You see, Little Lottie has had quite an exciting morning, and if she’s going right to the other side of town and back to be a helpful little girl, she might have a little accident before she gets home. And we wouldn’t want that.”

He fanned out some of the photos in his hand and Charlotte kicked the wall in frustration. As she lay on the bed, she cursed him inwardly. 

After Uncle had powdered her, he turned away for a second. Once he’d found what he wanted, he opened a tube of lubricant and applied it to the thing. Finally, he slipped the thing, wet and solid, inside her pussy. Charlotte shrieked in outrage, but before she could hit him or reach to pull it out, he had grabbed her hand.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

She gulped, and her uncle pulled the nappy up snugly between her legs and fastened it tightly with the sticky tapes. Then he reached back again and produced a roll of bubblegum-pink heavy-duty tape.

A roll of pink bondage tape

“Stand,” he ordered, and Charlotte got up, cringing as the nappy rustled between her legs.

Her uncle wound the cute pink tape round and round her middle, forming a pretty pink waistband on the bright white diaper.

“In case you’re tempted to try and take this off once you get to the shop,” he explained. “If I find this nappy torn in any way, those pictures are going straight online.”

And with that, he had fluffed out her skirts over the nappy once more, clapped his hands at what a pretty little darling she made, and told her to get going.

Charlotte raged as she went along, making a point of muttering every swearword she knew, conscious that her garments and the thing inside her turned her normal stomp into a toddler’s waddle. Uncle had even brought her mary janes and ruffled socks to complete the look.

Let’s get this over with, she grimaced. She had just turned the corner on the quickest road through town when she saw a familiar crowd up the road ahead of her. The lads from the park! Shit! Jesus, they couldn’t catch her like this! She gasped and one heard her.

“Hey!” said the boy, squinting as he spotted her, trying to place her. Shit! Charlotte’s heart stopped for a moment, as she froze, then ran.

“HEY! Is that -?” 

Charlotte dodged down a side-path, skirts bobbing daintily, her slippy little-girl shoes nearly sending her flying. She swore under her breath as she heard the lads walking back along the path in her direction.

“I dunno what -”

“Couldn’t have been. That’s not -”

“Telling you, though! It definitely looked like -”

“Fuck off Ben. You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously – let’s just go see for ourselves!”

“Fine, if it’ll shut you up.”

No, no, no, thought Charlotte, panicking. She dashed along the path between rows of houses, looking back with curls swishing to see if she was being followed. Her bulky nappy hindered her. But the boys weren’t her only worry.

To add to her woes, Charlotte felt a familiar, unwelcome urge. Whenever she got scared, which was more often than she’d admit, she needed the toilet desperately. Added to this, Uncle had allowed her three cups of tea this morning, and she’d not been to the bathroom since. Running wasn’t helping the situation.

Charlotte stopped to catch her breath and wriggled as her bladder threatened to betray her. She crossed her legs and jigged and concentrated and hoped she could keep it all in. Damnit, why now?

Miraculously, willpower won. Just in time, as the male voices drew closer, one street parallel to her. She ran further, glancing behind like a fugitive babydoll, thanking her football habit for her fitness. When she looked where she was going once more, though, her jaw dropped. 

Up ahead, the road ended suddenly in a high wall. Shit. And the lads were getting closer.  Shitshitshit.

Charlotte considered knocking on one of the doors to ask for shelter, but any sound might give her away. Besides, she’d been rude to so many people in this area, they hadn’t much love to show her.

There were no alleys, no sheds, nowhere to hide at all. Only one thing left to do.

HUP! Jesus! The wall skinned her hands as she leapt but failed to grip. The pink puffy skirts whooshed up and tangled around her, dangerously revealing what lay beneath. The voices were even closer now, just around the corner, and her bladder was once again struggling to hold.

“Come onnnn,” she whined to herself. “Pleeeease!” She leapt again and caught the top of the wall, hanging there in relief.

A little too much relief. With dread, she felt the first warm trickle patter into her nappy. No! 

With great effort and further scrapings, Charlotte pulled herself up until she was slumped over the top of the wall, and caught her breath. Away in front of her was an entirely separate road – escape at last!

She gathered two thirds of her strength to hoist herself over the wall, saving the other third to stop herself getting even wetter. Suddenly, a buzzing came from inside her nappy, tickling her maddeningly inside. She gasped, hanging there in space, as her clitoris pounded and her head emptied. That fucker! So that’s what…he had…slipped…inside…unhhhhh… 

The effect was dizzying as she struggled to hang onto the wall and keep herself from peeing. She tried to focus her whirling mind. Not now, not now!

Suddenly her prayers were answered. The buzzing stopped, and from the corner at the far end of the street, she heard:

“We wasn’t doing anything though!” That was Jacko. Followed by an older man’s voice.

“Very funny. And I suppose those break-ins round here were the fairies, were they?  Didn’t we have your brother up last week for burglary?”

“So what if you did? I didn’t do anything!” She guessed that was Finn.

“You lot, in the van. I think my boss would like to ask you a few questions.”

“Wasn’t us!” Finn again.

“Then what were you running from?”

“Nothing! We thought we saw something, that’s all!” 

“In the van!”

There was a slamming sound and the boys’ voices stopped. Charlotte peeked behind, and saw the back bumper of the police van peeking from round the road’s end. She dropped back down to the ground, panting, tingling between her legs.

Then the police officer rounded the corner.

“Oi! What are you doing?”

Charlotte yelped and leapt at the wall once again, scrambling up it in a flurry of frills. Dust sprayed her “Princess” bib as she scrabbled and strained.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, please let me get away!

She braced herself once more to hoist over the top, but just as she pushed off, a firm hand grabbed her frilly-socked ankle. And just as he did so, the dreaded buzzing began once again.

Charlotte hung there over the wall, her frilly skirts bunched around her waist, and lost the battle against her body, wetting her nappy fully. Tears ran down her cheeks as the seemingly unending stream continued.

The officer let go of her ankle as he watched in confusion and shock. The nappy turned a tell-tale yellow in the crotch and sagged lower and lower with the weight. Charlotte dropped limply back down to earth, pulling her skirt back down, and hung her head, not daring to face the officer. Finally the stream dribbled to a stop. It was warm and wet between her legs, and she knew the combined smell of urine and baby powder was unmistakable.

“Well then,” the officer said, shaking his head in disbelief. “What were YOU up to, then?”

“Going shopping for my uncle?” mumbled Charlotte into her chest, her cheeks on fire.

“That what you call it?” said the officer. “Well I think you have some explaining to do beyond ‘shopping for your uncle’.”

He asked for her name, and after three repeats and a threat of further charges, she gave it, along with her uncle’s address. The officer mumbled into a radio while Charlotte stood there, shivering in shame.

“Right,” he said. “We’re letting your uncle know where he can pick you up. I was going to get a carer to come in and deal with your…little accident, but your uncle has assured us that he’ll bring all the stuff to…er…change you himself.”

Charlotte felt tears fill her eyes and put her face in her hands. This couldn’t get any worse.

“Right,” the officer slotted his radio back into its holster. “Into the van with the others!”

He patted her on the bottom with a chuckle, and as if in response, the faint buzzing began once more.


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