Commission for  avarios in which a certain Veemon gets kidnapped and forced into worshiping his diaper. Oh no!

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Story Text: (Download for better formatting)
Digi-Diaper 'Napped:
Commission #2 for Avarios

“Ohh, my head…” the blue and white digimon said, opening his eyes and immediately regretting it. He wasn’t in pain, exactly, but there was an intense fog that seemed to have descended upon his wits while he slept, one that made even the basic motions of rising to his feet difficult. Groaning himself, Veemon, the digimon in question, simply rolled back and forth on the hard, slick surface that he was laying upon. How had he gotten here? Where was he? Veemon tried to open his eyes again and look around. The fog was gone, mostly, but the overhead light blazed like the noonday sun and he closed them again, turning away from it and rising to his knees. It was harder than he expected. Beyond the fact that he was both confused and tired, there seemed to be something spreading his legs apart, some unidentified mass that he couldn’t account for in the least.

Without even moving, the digimon could tell that the mass, crinkling like a plastic bag and measurable in the inches by the feel of it, enveloped his rear, crotch, and the space between his legs. He blinked twice, his vision clearing, and looked down at it.

“What da…” Veemon said, confused, looking down at the object that encased his loins, “Am I in a diaper?!” The blue and white digimon panicked, taking two steps backwards as though he could outdistance the extra thick silky bulk that had encompassed his legs, but misjudged his readiness for movement, tripped backwards from the diaper’s thickness and the lack of grip on the floor, and fell with a holler onto his heavily padded rear, the rustling of the plastic backing filling the entire room. He looked around, on the verge of losing nerve, and rose to his hands and knees, trying his best to survey the room. The cell, for it was obviously meant to contain him, was solid, polished stone on all four sides. The walls were white, and the floor and ceiling were tiled bright blue. Along one side was a wall-length countertop, on the opposite wall was the only seeable exit: a grate door made of interlocking steel bars. It occurred to him that the room had the same coloration as he did, but his train of thought was halted as Veemon heard footsteps approaching the cell door.

“I see you are awake, that is good,” came the voice of whomever was outside the door. It was cold and lifeless, stating hard facts as though they were all that mattered.

“Hey! Whas goin’ on, here!” Veemon shouted at his captor, “You can’t jus’ drag me here an’ thwo me in a cell!” The blue and white digimon rose to his feet again, more fueled by anger and frustration than necessity, now, and scowled into the darkness beyond the bars. The light from the overhead lamp that had seemed so blindingly bright before suddenly stopped at the bars, leaving whomever or whatever was behind them shrouded beyond sight.

“I can and I did, Veemon. I can and I did,” the figure replied, moving a bit further forward. He, for the voice was definitely masculine, appeared to be a small digimon, not much bigger than Veemon himself, but beyond that he was unsure. “But I have good news for you,” it started again, trying and failing to fake emotion, “I’ll let you out, but only under one condition.”

“And was’ dat?” Veemon asked, the other digimon clearly begging the question.

“Remove your diaper,” the figure said, hard and to the point as always, “remove your diaper and I’ll let you out. Or tell me you want to stay in it forever and the result will be the same, it matters little to me.”

“Now why the heck would I want to stay in this forever?!” Veemon said, growling at the clearly intolerably stupid digimon, “I’m a fully gwown Veemon, why would I need diapers?!” Veemon only knew of diapers and their purpose from his tamer, who had tried to explain the human world to him at length.

“Very well, then,” the formless digimon said, “remove your diaper, and I’ll let you out.”

“Fine by me,” Veemon said, under his breath, and looked down at the thing between his legs. It was thick, thicker even than he had imagined earlier, and crinkled loudly even at the lightest touch. “Woahh…” the blue and white digimon said, relaxing suddenly at the sound of his diaper, rustling as his hand brushed over it, then shook himself back to purpose and focus. It seemed to be held in place by a pair of inch wide adhesive tapes that went from one wing to the other. Simple enough, and, girding himself from the light pleasure and relaxation that came from even the gentle touch of his diaper, seized the tapes one in each hand and pulled.

“That is not going to work,” the voice said, watching in at veemon as he tried in vain to tear the tapes and escape the stupid thing. For every small distance he pulled the front of his one crinkling garment it pulled equally in from the back, leaving the whole thing as snug and horribly comfortable as always. He threw down his arms in frustration and shook his head, hating to prove this tormenting digimon right.

“How da’ heck am I supposed to get out of this thing!?” Veemon said in frustration, his eyes falling upon the counter on the other side as if guided by some force beyond his control, “oh…” The surface, glossy and white like laminated plastic was covered from one end to the other by metal tools: knives, scissors, pliers, vice grips, even a hand saw was visible. Surely a SAW could cut through the plastic tapes and free him of this accursed diaper… couldn’t it? “Hmph… I’ll show him.”

Veemon took, or, rather, tried to take a first step on his newly regained feet, and had to land at a stumble as he realized the true thickness of the diaper. He blushed a bit, realizing that the thing made even walking a pain, but it was balanced by an equal, but much more pleasurable force. Sure, he would have to waddle everywhere he went, but maybe staying in the diaper wouldn’t be so…

“Pull yourself together, Veemon!” the blue digimon said, shaking his head. He had only gone one step, and yet the rustling he had created, the silky smooth feeling of the diaper against the insides of his legs had been downright heavenly. Veemon got his balance back, breathed deeply, looked at the nine steps or more towards the counter, and started walking. “I don’t like diapers,” he said shivering all over with how comfortable it felt as he walked, “I don’t like diapers… I don’t like diapers… I don’t like diapers… I like diapers... I like diapers…” The digimon said, his stride growing more and more comfortable with his waddling steps with every one, grinning absent mindedly and totally unaware of what he was saying. The crinkling of the diaper was intoxicating, and eventually he forgot even what he was saying, simply marveling in the warmth and bulk and rustling, the sights and sounds and feelings of his diaper, the most pleasurable thing in all the world.

By the time he reached the other side of the room, merely a dozen steps away from where he had started, Veemon was giggling and grinning down at his diaper, the plastic backing seeming to smile back up at him with its glossy texture. He didn’t really want to cut it up… did he?

“I gotta get out of here…” Veemon said, trying to rationalize picking up the sterling silver scissors and cutting the tapes so he could get out, both of the diaper and of this cell. That’s not the only way out… Something deep inside of him said, the source of his reluctance. It wasn’t so much a voice as the sum of Veemon’s deepest desires compressed into thoughts and images, desires he didn’t even know he had. There is always the other choice… “But I don’t want to be in diapers forever…” Veemon said to himself, though half-heartedly. He closed his eyes tightly in concentration for a second, then opened them again, ready to push aside his apparent diaper fantasies in the desire to get out. He reached for one of the glistening steel tools, a pair of scissors that looked like they had been made to cut hair, long and thin in the blades, but his hand stopped merely inches from the table. Instead, it started to drift inadvertently towards his diaper again. He would cut it off… sure… he just wanted to feel it one more time before he did. The blue, diapered digimon went limp with total comfort and relaxation as he poked and prodded the front, considering sitting down in it for a few minutes before taking it off. After all, this might be his first and last time in diapers ever! Why shouldn’t he enjoy it?

The figure, quite thus far, sat in wait, watching Veemon intently though remaining unseen in return. If Veemon could see past the bars and darkness, he would have seen the figure grin, one of his rare shows of emotion.

“Gotta get out of here…” Veemon said, feeling as much disappointment as ever he had felt in his life as he pulled his hand away from the crinkly front of his diaper, knowing that he had to get it off now or spend forever in that terrible, horrible state… always comfortable, always relaxed, relishing in all the sounds and sensations of his diaper... He pushed the ideas from his mind, grabbing up the scissors without another thought and positioning them to cut the tapes, one blade on either side. He hesitated, tensed muscles falling relaxed again as he imagined his life, blissfully spending day and night in his diaper, always happy, never rough, all the hard edges melted off by the warm, safe comfort of his diaper, the best thing that had ever happened to him. “N-no… no…” he said, shaking his head physically, “I’m a digimon… I’m a fighter… I don’t need diapers…” and flexed his hand three times, trying desperately to cut the tapes and be free of the thing, but, every time, couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The scissors clattered to the floor from Veemon’s limp hand as his will to resist broke. He kicked the scissors to the side of the room and put one hand on the front of his diaper, almost drooling with pleasure at the sensation of his paw moving across the plastic. He flexed and unflexed his legs to feel the great bulk between them, pressing them apart, and got up onto all fours to crawl around a bit, rolling over onto his back and giggling, even going so far as to lift his feet up into the air and kick a bit, wiggling his crinkling behind all the while.

“Hey, dis fewws gweat!” Veemon said, beaming with happiness and wiggling in his pampers before going limp with relaxation. He had never felt so good. “Wait, was happenin’ to my voice?” He asked, suddenly, clasping a hand over his mouth. He was slurring his words like a baby! Scared back out of the fog that had descended upon him and back into reality, Veemon looked at where he had dropped the scissors, all the way across the room from him, again. He didn’t dare to take the time of standing, only crawling on all fours towards the shiny metal object against the wall. To one half of his mind, all that mattered in the world was the diaper around his waist, crinkling and fluffy; to the other half, the scissors that would let him remove it, and, with any luck, dispel whatever was forcing its way into his mind. He kept crawling, but his mind was under siege, totally encumbered by the force required to keep his diaper half from overtaking him, and his steps slowed until he was motionless, down on his hands and knees, hand only a half foot from the scissors that could set him free.

“Serve your diaper with every crinkle…” came a voice. It could have been the digimon on the outside of the door, but Veemon wasn’t paying enough attention to know. “Serve your diaper with every crinkle. Serve your diaper with every crinkle. Serve your diaper with every crinkle.”

“I-,” Veemon said, or, rather, started to say, his lips moving entirely of their own accord, “serve my diaper…” The blue and white digimon’s stern limbs went lax, laying down on his side as the valiant, but ultimately defeated portion of his brain gave way, his diaper desire suddenly calling all the calls, and a truly beaming smile gradually grew over his face to the tone of the voices, not one but many, that were chanting. Veemon joined them, “I serve my diaper with every crinkle… I serve my diaper with every crinkle. I serve my diaper with every crinkle!” He wasn’t paying any attention to his diaper, but, as he said this, the white tapes on his diaper started to glow the blue of a cloudless sky, as did Veemon’s eyes.

“Do you love your diapers, Veemon?” a voice came, much higher and clearer than the cold one that had observed him before. It seemed almost happy, not triumphant or smug at all, just pleasantly happy at the other digimon’s decision.

“I wubs my diapee…” Veemon cooed, rolling onto his back and shaking his feet into the air. There was a creaking of metal on metal as the barred doors opened slowly, the figures in the darkness beyond stepping into the light. The blue digimon was far beyond caring who it was that had done this to him by this point, totally content to simply lay in his diaper dominated bliss forever, but recognized them none the less. One was a Coronamon, a red and yellow digimon with the likeness of a flaming cat. The next, immediately behind the first, Veemon recognized as a Gazimon, another rookie with a snowy white coat and vicious looking claws. Despite this, it seemed totally tame, grinning at him happily in a welcome that Veemon normally wouldn’t have thought he deserved from a digimon he had never met before, but cared very little about that under the circumstances. The third and final of the three was a Monodramon, light purple being its primary color but for the parts of it that were made out of what looked like steel and brass. The three newcomers lined up across from the drowsing Veemon, too totally caught up in his own mindless diaper worship to take any notice of them but for two key features that for obvious reasons stood out to the pampered Veemon: each of the three had glowing blue eyes, just as his own had begun to glow after the diaper had finished away with the last of his pesky free will, but, much more importantly, they were each and every one of them in diapers, just like Veemon.

The coronamon waddled over to Veemon, her diaper far too thick for her to walk normally, face full beaming with giddy joy at the new member of their little group. Veemon paid her little mind, even as she knelt down next to him, patted his belly affectionately, then checked the front of his diaper, “You’re still dry,” the coronamon chimed in, the same sing-song voice that had so entranced Veemon before, grinning, “you said you wub your diapee, so why haven’t you used it?” The point struck home, and Veemon felt a little guilty for keeping them all waiting, especially his diaper… that was the most important thing of all. The catlike digimon seemed totally in tune with what Veemon was going through, guessing his thoughts to the letter, almost as though she had once been through this herself, “just relax… let it go,” she murmured, and Veemon did as he was commanded, feeling a warm, heavy, soggy sensation spread out across the thick padding’s inner core. It felt so natural, so totally right to use his diaper. It was though a pact had been made, something that couldn’t be escaped, changed, or fought, even if Veemon had any desire in the world to do so. As he finished, babbling a bit to himself as the diaper sagged noticeably, Veemon started to curl up into a ball, happy as ever he had been in his life. “Oh no you don’t,” the coronamon giggled, “It’s not naptime yet, we’ve got to get you out of that diaper before you wind up with a rash.”

“Buh I wubs my diapee…” Veemon said, absent any thought of his own. It just seemed the totally appropriate thing to say under the circumstances. He did love his diaper, and he had only just used it! All the feelings he got from it were different, now, and he welcomed with open arms the chance to learn what this glorious padded undergarment was like all over again.

“Hehe, don’t worry mister soggypants,” the cat-like digimon said, “we’ll get you in a new one, pronto. You never have to worry about being out of diapers around us!” So she said, and so she meant. Veemon sighed happily, getting a bit more comfortable in his soaked diaper now that he knew that these other digimon didn’t mean to separate them. Such a tragedy could never be allowed to occur. Never. Veemon wouldn’t let it.

The coronamon grinned broadly, placing one paw under Veemon’s knees, and the other behind his shoulders, scooping him up into her arms as though he weighed no more than he had as a digiegg. It didn’t matter, almost nothing did. There was Veemon, his diapers, and maybe these new digimon who seemed to share similar love for the things that he did. But that was it, so far as he was concerned. Nothing else existed, nothing else was important. Digimon and diapers, even the words seeming to fit together like bits of a puzzle that he had never known he had to solve.

“Hush, now,” the sweet-sounding rookie said, rocking Veemon back and forth as she moved, then plopped him down onto the counter on the other side of the room, all the various sharp instruments having turned to air as though they had never existed at all. In their place was a half dozen ultra-thick printed sleep diapers, a bottle of lotion and powder, and a soft, warm mat for a digimon to lay upon during a change. Veemon wiggled a bit as the coronamon tore the tapes on his diaper, the thought of being without padding, even for just a moment nearly sending him into a panic. Alas, by some means he couldn’t quite understand himself, Veemon kept his cool, or maybe it was something else keeping him cool, he didn’t know. His soggy diaper was balled up and disposed of under the counter, Veemon almost at the point of tears at being forced to watch such a travesty, but was instantly brought back into good humor by the sight of the stacked pampers that awaited him, their bulk soon to encase his thighs forever. After a prompt powdering, the other digimon picked up the anxious but complacent digimon’s ankles, lifting him off the counter briefly that she might slip his new diaper under him before pulling it up between his legs without a moment’s further delay, and, making sure to keep it as snug as possible, taping the padding in place at the front.

Veemon exhaled a sigh of relief as the unpleasant lack of bulk was relieved, and he could go back to his world of perfect padded bliss. “Coe I hath thome clothieth?” Veemon babbled, his grasp on intelligible speech decreasing by the second, and batted his hands up at the coronamon, who grinned expectantly, eager to fulfil any desires that this new initiate might have. Any normal digimon would likely have had a hard time making sense of the incoherent babble that had come out of Veemon’s mouth, taken as he was under the diaper’s control, but the other rookie hadn’t the slightest quibble. He meant, could I have some clothes, and that was exactly what the coronamon would give him. She had all the experience in the world at dealing with initiates. She had been the first, after all, to enter into this wonderful, blissful state that the Veemon was now enjoying, and it was her job to spread it with viral intent until everyone knew what it was like to be diapered, until everyone worshiped their diaper with every crinkle, just like the little Veemon had learned to do, today.

The cultist digimon had prepared ahead, expecting such a request from the initiate, and the other two passed forward a pair of super-thick padded wool mittens and booties, both bottle green and with neat little ties at the wrists to make sure they couldn’t slide off. She carefully pulled them over the possessed Veemon’s hands and feet, his fingers and toes disappearing under the layers of padded fabric, hands uselessly balled up in fists. She tied the bands snugly so that they wouldn’t come undone, and scratched the dopey eyed digimon’s belly to hasten his descent into the sea of paradise that awaited him. As one final token, she reached under the counter and returned with a ultramarine blue pacifier, the kind with the extra-large bulb for bigger babies than normal, then pressed it between Veemon’s waiting lips, jaw hanging stupidly wide as his mind, slowly losing purpose, gradually ceased to be. Veemon didn’t care or even bother to take notice of any of this, even the other cultists were starting to lose his interest, even as the coronamon picked him up again, carrying him out the door of the room to destinations unknown. The heavily padded diaper around his waist was all he needed. It was his world, his very being. His entire existence before his diapers started to fade, like a photograph many years past its prime, edges starting to curl, colors starting to fade, names and faces and voices all losing their significance as they faded into memory, into obscurity, into minutia, and then disappeared entirely. Veemon found he couldn’t speak, looking up into the sky blue eyes of the cult leader as she lowered him down and onto some sort of soft bed where he might roll around and crinkle until his heart’s content, all the sounds coming out of his mouth now nothing more than senseless murmuring and giggling. He moved only sparingly, wiggling his legs or butt to feel the heavy, comfortable padding rustle and crinkle, caressing his skin. It held him close, as he held it, fitting him so perfectly that it had to have been made for him and him alone. He belonged to it, and it to him, and it was with this thought, the Veemon falling backwards over the brink of the blissful abyss, that he occupied himself in those last moments before all thought faded. He didn’t need to think, he didn’t need to speak or move. He had his diaper, and that was enough for him.