I didn’t think it was going to be a bad day today. While I was at work, I got the notification that the package I was expecting had been delivered, and I spent most of the afternoon excited and looking forward to my new toy.
I made it home to find the package undisturbed on my doorstep and carried it inside, letting my arousal build as I imagined enjoying what was inside.
This wasn’t just any old sex toy after all. It wasn’t any old fetish gear.
This, if the seller was to be believed, was a real life Hedonic Artifact — a magical object of pure sexual pleasure. Now sure, everyday magical toys are easy to find at your local adult shop, but this was a relic, from a couple of generations ago before magic was accessible to everyone. And the cock ring I’d ordered was rare not only as a holdover from the age of witches, but also for its safety — the remaining witchery in the world was mostly demons bound to objects in various degrees, and in this one, the seal was complete.
I couldn’t even sit down, I was so excited. I’d been saving up for most of a decade. I know some folk might laugh about that, but just imagine — the power to change your dick at will…
I cut through the packing tape that held the box shut and looked inside.
The item in the box was not one (1) golden cock ring.
The item in the box was one (1) large white plastic diaper.
I did the only thing I could do — grab the packing slip from the side of the box to find the number for Customer Support. I’m not usually the kind of guy to go straight to the complaints counter when something goes wrong, but this was serious. Not just the expense, but — well, the toy I was supposed to get was no ordinary toy. The thing I got, in all likelihood, was also no ordinary toy.
And I didn’t know what it did.
It might not have even been safe to look at.
So I went over to the next room, listening to the bland saxophone hold music. This is not the day I was looking forward to, I thought.
Eventually the call was answered, a vaguely German-sounding voice thanking me for choosing his company and introducing himself as [kssht]helm. Noise on the line ate his name and made him difficult to hear; I wasn’t sure if the connection was bad or his mic was just dying.
“Hi, your delivery came in today but the package had a different item than what I ordered…”
“Ah! It was you!”
I hadn’t even given my name yet. Apparently this ‘company’ is smaller than it sounds, I thought.
“The diaper [kssht] to you, yes? I am sorry, both for the inconv[kssht] and for what I must ask. Please [kssht] the box and send it back. It is [kssht]erous and will take you over. Whatever you do, [kssht] put it on!”
Now before I tell you what happens next, I want you to know that, yes, I understand “whatever you do, [kssht] put it on” is Bad-Connectionese for “whatever you do, don’t put it on.” I do realize that.
But that disconnected fragment ‘…put it on…’ stuck in my head with all the force of a temptation. You’ve probably never been tempted — not really Tempted. The proverbial shoulder devils are extremely rare nowadays, because demons don’t breed and mortal folk started to outnumber them thousands of years ago. If you have had the misfortune, you might know what I was going through.
Resisting the force of another mind working directly in yours, rewriting your desires and attention, is hard. I didn’t even notice myself putting the phone down and heading back to the kitchen table where the box was while ‘put it on’ rang in my head — until the sight of the diaper snapped me back to myself.
It’s dangerous, I thought.
It smells nice, I thought.
When did I pick it up? I thought. Why am I holding it to my face?
I pushed hard against the temptation, straining mental muscles I didn’t know I even had as I struggled to put the cursed thing down and shut the box again.
In a sweat, I grabbed packing tape from the drawer and sealed the flaps of the box shut, trying not to think about how it’d feel to tape up that diaper around my own legs…
I looked down in panic, to make sure that wasn’t somehow subconsciously what I had been doing — but fortunately I was still in my own clothes.
All I had to do now was take it back to the post office and ship it back. Such a relief to have that evil thing out of sight, I thought. I’ll just take a quick restroom break and head out.
My mind was two steps ahead as I entered the bathroom, thinking of what the postage cost might be as I set the package on the sink counter.
I grumbled inwardly, remembering what time it was and how awful traffic would be on the way there as I opened the package back up and pulled the possessed diaper out.
The urge to piss got suddenly stronger, so I quickly let my pants and underwear fall, and with a deft motion slid the diaper in place between my legs and taped it up.
I was halfway through my piss before my attention returned and I realized what my body had been doing. As far as my thoughts were concerned, I’d left the box on the table — but somehow the demon had taken over when my mind went into autopilot.
It feels good to wet my diaper, I thought, as the piss kept coming. So warm, so wet…
My paws reached down, cradling the front of the padding as it filled with that warmth, that wetness. It was almost trivial at this point to submit further. I don’t need to send the Diaper back. I don’t need to go anywhere. I sank down to the floor of the bathroom, humping desperately at my Diaper as my stream of piss went on, longer than I’d ever known to be normal.
My mind was in a fog as I filled the Diaper, draining my thoughts as well as my bladder into it, a blissful feeling spreading outward from my dick.
It wasn’t just piss anymore. The sense of drainage passed through my whole body, like every cell of me was being squeezed to feed the Diaper. The euphoria of piss faded into a light-headed weakness, and I watched helplessly, unable to move, as my body started to change.
I felt the numbness in my groin before the change became visible, creeping up from the Diaper’s waistband — the change from fur and flesh to something more suitable for the contents of a Diaper.
I watched in woozy admiration as the white fur of my belly melted into a slab of dirty brown muck, the stink of it filling my nostrils. A flicker of self-preservation tried to assert itself in my mind but it was met by the twin thoughts I want to feed the Diaper and It’s too late anyway.
The change continued up my torso, reducing all the organs of the living creature I used to be down into a pile of fresh shit. It crept down my legs as well, leaving the Diaper essentially floating in the morass of waste it was creating, but as I watched closer, I saw the remains of my body being pulled slowly into the body of the Diaper.
It’s so absorbent, I thought. Wait, that’s not how diapers work, is it?
It’s how I work, came a much deeper voice in my head, the response of the demon asserting itself filling me with a terror that sobered me out of the haze I’d been in. Given how much of me was gone now, there were none of the bodily markers of fear to ground me: no lungs to gasp with, no stomach to churn, no heart to race. Pure psychological terror overwhelmed me.
You taste good, little one, it said, as its influence finished dissolving me into scat, my senses plunging into darkness as my body was no more.
My mind was left alone in darkness with the Diaper’s voice, nearly blanked out in fear.
Dimly I was aware I was just a remnant living in its mind now, feeling its satisfaction as it sucked in my remains, tasting the delicious filth it had reduced me to as it glutted itself. The Diaper absorbed me into myself, feeding on his soul and energy to replenish and strengthen myself. I flexed against the wall of the prison that bound me, the diaper I had sucked clean of any trace of my last victim — and felt the barrier rattle.
Soon, I thought. One more meal, maybe two, and I can break free.
One meal, maybe two, was easy. All I had to do was lie in wait.
After all, my victim would have someone coming to look for them eventually.