top of page
assetlongppink.png

The Padded Palace Act IV: Chapter 4

CREAK! 


The turgid, antique dresser squeaked angrily as Stacy pried open the heavy drawer. She gazed down at the array of pajama pants, soft t-shirts, and silky lingerie with a crooked smile. Having only packed a small selection of prissy dresses and babyish PJs, she was woefully unprepared when it came to the subject of Big clothing. Luckily for her, Latasha had plenty of options to choose from. 


Dragging her fingertips along the lacy fabric of Latasha’s lingerie, Stacy contemplated going all out and dawning the salacious attire. To her surprise, merely clutching the lingerie was enough to make her face glow red with shyness. Despite her cool girl demeanor, she’d never gotten the opportunity to wear something so indubitably sexy. Balking from her grip on the buttery smooth negligee, she instead picked out a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a simple, light yellow t-shirt with the words, Wine Mama, written in cursive across the bust. 


With the clothing folded neatly in her hands, Stacy retreated to Latasha’s private lavatory. Unlike the compact nature of the downstairs bathroom, the master bathroom was far more expansive, possessing both a jacuzzi and a shower stall as well as a separate toilet. Though for as nice as the spacious latrine was, the bratty blonde was unphased thanks to the penthouse bathroom she had waiting for her at home. Setting the PJs down on the sink countertop, she slowly stripped down until only her nappy and diaper cover remained. She momentarily admired her perky, bare chest and athletic physique, contrasting the infantile nature of her lower undergarment. It was a stunning reflection, to say the least, but in order to continue, she would have to part with her precious padding. 


Stacy let her hand gingerly trace her tightly swaddled hips before hooking her thumbs around the waistband of her plastic panties and cloth diaper. Goosebumps lined her thighs and forearms as a rush of fresh air brushed against her moistened crotch. “No more accidents,” she whispered to herself as if reminding her subconscious to secure her bladder. Shifting the diaper around her bodacious booty, she quickly stepped back as the sopping microfiber plopped down onto the tile floor. She then proceeded to tidy up by placing the swollen padding into the mesh laundry bag that she used for her soiled nappies. It was a caregiver’s job to keep the house clean, after all. 


Opening the shower’s frosted glass partition, Stacy twisted the sterling silver knob to turn the water on. Her hand hovered beneath the clear, trickling liquid, waiting for it to warm to her liking. Once satisfied with the water’s temperature, she stepped into the stall, angling the showerhead downward to avoid wetting her hair. A full shower would certainly be overkill. Dispensing three pumps of citrus-scented body wash into her palm, she diligently washed her pelvic area free of all baby powder and lotion. Such puerile substances were unbecoming of an adult. 


Capping off her two-minute shower by rinsing the suds away from her lower half, Stacy exited the glass booth, her soaking wet feet drenching the floor. She paid little mind to the drippy trail she left behind in her wake, focusing instead on procuring a towel. With a towel wrapped around her damp waist, the bougie-rich girl parked herself on the lip of the toilet to air dry. For the next ten minutes, she scrolled through Xwitter whilst the water droplets that decorated her legs and thighs slowly evaporated. Boredom would inevitably push her to manually wipe away the rest of the moisture but not until after she had quelled her social media addiction. 


Now fully dry, Stacy returned to the pajamas she had set aside. A mischievous giggle escaped her lips as the cozy bottoms worked their way up her legs. She playfully snapped the elastic waistband against her hips. While she wasn’t keenly aware of it, she hadn’t gone without padding in nearly four months, making her commando status all the more foreign. Sliding on the t-shirt, she spun in front of the mirror to check out her slightly less-curvy reflection. “I feel more grown-up already,” she said, downplaying how much she missed the additional bulk around her posterior. 


Forcing those childish, carnal desires from her mind, Stacy turned to leave the bathroom. However, she stopped just before breaking the bedroom’s threshold as her eyes spotted a pair of glimmering diamond earrings resting in the center of a small jewelry case. Curious how she would look in something so elegant, she sashayed back to the sink coyly and retrieved the formal fashion pieces, holding them up to each ear. Sadly, it didn’t matter how good the earrings looked pressed against her ear lobe. Without piercings, the most she could do was admire the diamond studs enviously. A stark chill crept up her spine at the idea of stabbing a hole through her ears. 


Annoyed by her own immaturity, Stacy discarded the earrings back into the jewelry case and exited the bathroom in a huff. The discontented anti-Little flopped onto the bed and let out a painfully long groan, feeling significantly less Big than she had hoped she would by this point. That groan quickly transitioned into a strained sigh as she glared at the logline on her phone that read, “No new messages.”  


Tossing her phone aside and scowling up at the popcorn-textured ceiling, Stacy's frustration finally hit its boiling point, “What the heck are Bigs even supposed to do?!” 


----------------------------------------


CREAK! 


The well-worn, wooden crib bars of Skye’s nursery crib squealed like a whining piglet as Connor gingerly lowered them to the floor. All the while, his eyes were fixed on Ellie, who was snoring as loud as a jackhammer. Knowing Ellie, her boisterous voice was almost certain to bring Stacy downstairs. It would be far safer to let her sleep. 


Tiptoeing out onto the soft carpet with his sore, wobbly legs, Connor's ridiculously crinkly diaper and swishy nightie had him cringing with every sonorous step. A line of blush formed along his cheekbones as he was stricken by memories of his fateful evening and subsequent morning with Latasha during his first week at the Padded Palace. Oh, how far he had come, snickering as he looked upon his girly apparel and the poofy padding that accompanied it. Adding to the intense level of irony he felt was the fact that Riri currently resided with the very crib Latasha had seen fit to lock him within after stumbling upon the ABDL crime scene he had made of the nursery. If only she could see him now…actually, scratch that. He wasn’t certain he could handle the amount of blush that would be heaped onto him if Latasha found him in such a sissified state. Good thing he had the entire weekend to sort this mess out. 


WEE! WOO! WEE! WOO! WEE WOO! 


All of a sudden, miniature red and blue lights flashed as an ear-piercing alarm blared out across the nursery. Connor stumbled forward, his heart exploding out of his chest as he craned his neck back toward the source of the high-pitched noise. Lo and behold, his heedless footing had inadvertently awoken a cartoonish toy police cruiser. Thinking on his feet, he swiftly snatched a pillow from his crib and slammed it down on the cop car, exhaling cautiously as he did his best to reign in the shrill-sounding siren. Mercifully, the lights and sounds eventually ceased on their own.  


Now that the fuzz had been dealt with, Connor’s attention was transferred to Ellie. He didn’t dare breathe until he heard her deviated septum echo out another snore. Resting his mouth against the pillow, he wheezed silently with relief. “I swear to Goddess, I’m going to rip out your batteries and disassemble you screw by screw,” he yammered under his breath, subduing his volume to ensure Ellie’s slumber went undisturbed. His transient outburst earned a few muted chuckles from Riri, whose anxiety was also settling after the toy car’s brief uproar.  


Gawking at the floor with unblinking eyes, Connor wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. He stepped lightly around the various stuffies and toys scattered throughout the nursery, an inquisitive expression forming on his face as he spotted the Palace’s vacuum standing in the middle of the room. Next to the free-standing cleaning device was a slew of vacuum markings covering about a quarter of the nursery’s carpet. Whoever had picked up after he passed out had done a crappy job, though he had a pretty good guess which of the girls was responsible. 


Rolling his eyes at what was likely Stacy’s shoddy handiwork, Connor pushed forward at the speed of molasses until he reached Riri’s crib safely. In total, the entire excursion had only lasted a couple of minutes. But to Connor, who was absentmindedly dancing around Little Space, it felt as though he had survived a fraught and dangerous journey. Weight ascended from his shoulders as he sat down on the edge of the crib, the bars of which had been raised by Riri in preparation for his arrival. He was safe, at least so long as Stacy didn’t spring a surprise inspection on them in the middle of the night. 


“Hi,” whispered Riri, poking a hand out from her soft, pink blanket cocoon and waving to Connor once again. She inched forward, scooching herself toward her feminized caregiver while making sure he still had plenty of space. With how vicious Stacy and, at times, Ellie had been, she wanted to ensure she was as delicate with his aftercare as humanly possible. She may have only been a Little but she had picked up a thing or two from her Daddy, Martin. 


Waving back meekly, Connor’s eyes darted around the room awkwardly. He expelled an extended yawn, the late hour dangling over his head. “So…*YAWN*...wanna tell me why you beckoned me?” he said, bypassing pleasantries and getting straight to the point due to his rapidly escalating drowsiness. 


Staring blankly at Connor, Riri had so many thoughts and questions circling her head that she wasn’t sure where to start. Having expected Connor to sleep until morning, she found herself somewhat unprepared. However, taking into consideration the copious amount of exhaustion encircling Connor’s eyes, she knew she couldn’t debate this in her head forever. Expelling the nervous air from her lungs, she peered deep into Connor’s eyes and asked simply, “How are you feeling?” 


TO BE CONTINUED… 

Comments

Share Your ThoughtsBe the first to write a comment.
bottom of page