Diaper Story: The Pizza Delivery

Table of Contents

Description

In this POV ABDL diaper story, you’re alone at home while your family vacations, you have the house—and some spending money—all to yourself. After deciding to splurge on a pizza delivery, your anticipation grows with every passing minute. A knock at the door sends a thrill through you. Swinging it open, you’re met by the pizza delivery man, his hands expertly spinning the pizza box. A hypnotic wave washes over you as he speaks.

“Invite me in,” he purrs, “and call me Daddy.”

Your voice is barely a whisper as you answer, “Please come in, Daddy.”

Chapter 1: Gimme Pizza

The echoing slam of the front door reverberated through the empty house, a symphony of solitude I’d been craving for weeks. With each echoing thud, the weight of parental expectations and sibling squabbles lifted from my shoulders. Finally, blessedly, alone.

A glance at the calendar – a garish flamingo-themed monstrosity courtesy of my mother – confirmed it was D-Day: Departure Day. My family, a whirlwind of khaki shorts, selfie sticks, and overstuffed suitcases, had descended upon the Orlando airport, ready to embark on their two-week “adventure” in the land of Mickey Mouse and overpriced churros.

Meanwhile, I, a connoisseur of quiet and all things cozy, had opted for a different kind of adventure. One involving fluffy blankets, an ungodly amount of cheese puffs, and the latest season of “My Strange Addiction” – a true feast for the senses, if you ask me.

Stretching out on the living room couch, a throne fit for a king (or in this case, a 18-year-old with a questionable fashion sense and an insatiable appetite for junk food), I surveyed my domain. The house, usually a chaotic mess of misplaced homework, forgotten socks, and the occasional pet hamster gone rogue, was now a pristine haven of peace and tranquility.

A mischievous grin spread across my face as I reached for the takeout menu tucked under a throw pillow. This was my chance to indulge in all the guilty pleasures my health-conscious parents usually deemed “unacceptable sustenance.” First on the agenda? A large margherita pizza, extra cheese, and a side of garlic knots. Because who needs balanced meals when you have a whole house to yourself, right?

With a few taps on my phone, my order was placed, and my stomach grumbled in anticipation. I had a whole two weeks to transform this house into my own personal paradise. And if that paradise happened to involve an obscene amount of pizza and a questionable number of hours spent in pajamas, well, that was nobody’s business but my own.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell’s shrill chime jolted me out of my cheese puff-induced haze. A wave of excitement washed over me as I practically leaped off the couch, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. Pizza time!

I swung the door open with a flourish, expecting to see the usual acne-ridden teenager with a greasy pizza box. But what greeted me instead took my breath away.

Standing on the porch was a man who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a magazine. His dark hair was artfully tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead. His eyes, a deep shade of hazel, sparkled with amusement as they met mine. A tight black t-shirt hugged his broad shoulders, and a pair of worn jeans accentuated his long legs. But it was his smile, a playful smirk that tilted one corner of his mouth, that truly captivated me.

“One large margherita pizza for…” he paused, scanning the delivery slip, “a lucky someone named…”

His gaze flicked back up to me, and my heart skipped a beat. “For you,” he finished, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I could only nod dumbly, completely entranced by the way he now held the pizza box, rotating it slowly with one hand. It was a mesmerizing sight, like a magic trick performed just for me.

“Welcome me into your house,” he purred, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. “As you look at me, you realize that you are irresistibly drawn to me. You’re attracted to me, Cameron, and you crave my touch you crave to be controlled by me. Call me Daddy.”

A warmth spread through my body, a delicious mix of embarrassment and excitement. I found myself obeying his command, stepping aside to let him in and uttering the words that seemed to tumble out of my mouth without conscious thought.

“Please come in, Daddy.”

Heat crept up my cheeks, but I managed to squeak out a response. “Right this way, sir. Uh, Daddy.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, like melted chocolate. “Just Daddy is fine, sweetheart.”

I led him into the living room, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The scent of garlic and melted cheese filled the air, mingling with his cologne – a masculine blend of musk and something else, something that made my knees weak.

“Nice place you have here,” he commented, setting the pizza box down on the coffee table. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the scattered pillows, the flickering light of the television, and finally, settling on me. “I’m surprised you’re all alone on a Friday night, though.”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “My family’s out of town for a couple of weeks. Business trip, you know?”

My name hung in the air, spoken in his deep voice, and it sounded strangely… intimate. It was as if he’d unlocked a secret just by uttering those two syllables.

“Guilty as charged,” I admitted, a shy smile playing on my lips. “Cameron Reed, at your service.”

“Well, Cameron Reed,” he said, extending a hand towards me. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Damien.”

Damien’s hand was warm and firm as I shook it, a jolt of electricity sparking between us. I noticed his eyes flicker momentarily to my lips before returning to mine. There was a glint of something predatory in their depths, a hunger that sent a thrill of fear and anticipation through me.

As I went to retrieve my wallet to pay for the pizza, Damien’s voice stopped me, soft and soothing, like a gentle caress. “Let me take care of that, Cameron. Consider it a housewarming gift.”

Confusion furrowed my brow, but before I could protest, he placed a finger on my forehead, a simple gesture that sent a ripple of warmth through me. I felt my eyelids grow heavy, my thoughts slowing to a languid pace.

Reaching into his delivery bag, he pulled out a fluffy pink diaper. “You’re going to take off your clothes, Cameron,” he murmured, his voice a hypnotic melody. “Strip down to nothing and put on this.” He then produced a frilly dress, followed by a pair of white socks with lace trim. “And these, and this.” Lastly, he revealed a long blonde wig.

I wanted to argue, to tell him I didn’t want any of these things, but the words wouldn’t form. Instead, I found myself obeying his command, a strange sense of detachment settling over me as I shed my clothes and donned the absurd outfit he presented.

“Good boy,” Damien purred, his eyes raking over my body with undisguised pleasure. “You look adorable.”

A blush heated my cheeks, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel ashamed. I was a doll, a plaything for his amusement, and the realization sent a perverse thrill through me.

“By the time I finish my shift tonight, I expect that diaper to be full,” he commanded, his voice firm. “You won’t be able to control your bladder anymore. And while you’re waiting, you’ll watch nothing but cartoons made for little girls. Understood?”

I wanted to fight back, to break free from his control, but it was useless. My mind was foggy, my body betraying me at every turn.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, a single tear rolling down my cheek.

He gave me a final, lingering look, his smile widening. “Good boy, Cameron. You’re going to be so much fun.”

And with that, he left and I crinkled over to the TV, turning it on. With a flick of the remote, I landed on a channel playing reruns of the Powerpuff Girls. The familiar intro music filled the room as Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup appeared on screen, fighting some goofy villain. As I watched, a strange pressure built in my lower stomach, a warmth spreading through the diaper. It felt wrong, but under Damien’s spell, I tried to hold my bladder, but I couldn’t. The warm pee just came out, soaking into the diaper and sending a shiver down my spine as I felt it dribble on my bottom and balls. A whimper escaped my lips, but it was quickly replaced by a giggle as Bubbles used her super-powered laughter to defeat the villain. The childish joy on the screen felt contagious, and I found myself laughing along, the warmth in the diaper a strange comfort. I giggled along with the cartoon, the childish laughter escaping my lips.

A pang in my stomach reminded me of the reason for this whole absurd situation: pizza. I giggled at the thought, the sound high-pitched and unfamiliar. The pizza box sat untouched on the coffee table, its cheesy aroma wafting through the air.

My diaper sagged heavily between my legs, the weight of it pulling at the hem of my frilly pink dress. I waddled over to the pizza, each step a clumsy shuffle in my oversized socks. Reaching the table, I clumsily opened the box, revealing the cheesy, gooey goodness within.

A giggle escaped my lips as I grabbed a slice, the hot cheese stretching between my fingers. I took a bite, savoring the familiar flavors, though something seemed off. The crust was crispier, the sauce tangier. It was delicious, but different.

My eyes drifted to the accompanying Coca-Cola. It looked the same, but as I took a sip, the taste was… unusual. It was sweeter, almost syrupy, with a hint of something floral. I scrunched up my nose, but the hypnotic suggestion tugged at my mind, compelling me to finish the entire bottle.

With a full belly and a growing warmth in my diaper, I returned to the couch, switching the channel to Peppa Pig. The cheerful theme song filled the living room as I giggled along with Peppa and George’s antics.

As the episode progressed, a new sensation began to build within me. A familiar pressure, a need that had nothing to do with my bladder. I remembered Damien’s words, his command to fill my diaper. I squirmed on the couch, a childish excitement bubbling up inside me.

When Peppa and her family gleefully jumped in muddy puddles, a wave of warmth washed over me. I let go, the feeling of release both exhilarating and embarrassing. The diaper bulged between my legs, heavy and warm. It was a testament to my obedience.

I got on my knees on the carpet, the rough texture tickling through the thin fabric of my pink dress. Peppa and her family were having a grand old time at the amusement park, their high-pitched squeals of delight mirroring the sounds bubbling up from my throat. Except, my sounds were a little breathy, a little needier. Daddy’s voice, rough and low, echoed in my mind. “Be a good girl for me, Cameron. Touch yourself.”

I reached down, my fingers trembling as they fumbled with the frills on my dress. My diaper was soaked and saggy, bulging obscenely between my thighs. It felt…amazing. I rubbed myself against the plush carpet, the friction sending tingles right through my body. On the screen, Peppa rode the roller coaster, her little cartoon face a mixture of terror and excitement. I knew exactly how she felt.

“That’s it, my sweet, messy girl,” Daddy’s voice crooned, making me shiver. “Imagine me watching you, touching myself while you touch yourself. We’re gonna be so filthy together.”

The images his words conjured up in my mind were intoxicating. I wrapped my hand around my diapered cock, squeezing it rhythmically. Every so often, a little whimper would escape my lips, a mixture of shame and pleasure. I was so close, my entire body taut with anticipation.

“Let go, sweetheart,” Daddy commanded, his voice a husky growl. “Fill that diaper for me. Be my good, messy little cumdump.”

And with a shuddering gasp, I did. My cock erupted, long, thick ropes of cum splattering against the inside of my diaper. My head lolled back, a whimper turning into a giggle. I was Daddy’s girl, his dirty little secret, and right now, there was nothing I wanted more.

Chapter 2: Thinking of Daddy

The front door creaked open, and Damien strode in, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked like a goddamn movie star, his hair still artfully tousled, his eyes holding that glint of amusement. He saw me there, sprawled on the floor, still in my pink dress, diaper bulging with evidence of my “obedience,” and he just laughed.

“Well, well, well,” he purred, leaning against the doorframe. “Looks like my little girl had a productive evening.” He strolled over, eyes raking over me, and then, with a gentle touch, he placed a finger on my forehead. The world spun. My thoughts, previously muddled and sluggish, sharpened to a razor edge. The fog lifted, and I felt a wave of disgust wash over me. The diaper, the dress, the cartoon playing on the TV – it all felt like a grotesque nightmare.

“What did you do to me?” I choked out, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. I wanted to rip this ridiculous outfit off, to scrub the sticky mess from my skin, to erase every trace of this humiliating experience.

Damien chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Just a little… encouragement, sweetheart. A little help to get you in the mood.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. You were a good little girl for Daddy. You even filled your diaper for me.”

I wanted to scream, to tear at the flimsy pink fabric that trapped me in this childish mockery of a person. “I hate this,” I managed to croak, the words tasting like bile in my mouth. “Let me go.”

Damien’s gaze flickered to my diaper, and a playful grin stretched across his face. “Oh, I know you hate it, Cameron. But you know what else you hate? The thought of me leaving you here, alone with your stinky little mess.” He lifted my dress and lifted the diaper slightly on my waist, cringing as he smushed my mess further against my backside, he began sniffing my diaper with exaggerated disdain. “My, my, It seems Daddy’s little girl is quite the messy one.”

My face flushed red, a mixture of shame and anger. “Get away from me,” I spat, trying to push him away with my hands, but my limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. My body was still under his control, and every attempt to resist was like struggling against a concrete wall.

Damien laughed again, his eyes gleaming with a kind of perverse satisfaction. “Don’t be shy, Cameron. You can’t hide from me. You know you like it.” He leaned closer, his gaze fixed on my face. “Tell me, what were you thinking about when you made that big mess in your diaper? Was Daddy on your mind? Were you playing with yourself, picturing me?”

My stomach churned. His words were like a venomous barb, piercing through my self-loathing and reminding me of the shameful thoughts that had plagued me while I was under his control. He was right, but I couldn’t admin it to him. I had been thinking about him, lusting for him, a fact that now filled me with a burning shame.

“Please,” I begged, my voice a desperate whisper. “Stop this. I don’t want to be your little girl anymore.”

Damien laughed, a cold, mocking sound. “Oh, but you are my little girl, Cameron. And I have so much more fun in store for you.” He ran a finger down my cheek, his touch sending a ripple of revulsion through me.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice a smooth, dangerous melody. “You’ll come to enjoy it. Just like you enjoyed that little…episode you just had.” He leaned in, his breath tickling my ear. “And speaking of enjoying things…”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver device, a strange little gizmo that pulsed with a faint, blue light. My heart hammered in my chest. I knew what this was, I had seen it in those trashy sci-fi movies, the kind that my parents would never let me watch. It was a mind control device, a tool for manipulation, and he was about to be using it on me.

“This is going to be fun, Cameron,” he whispered, holding the device up to my face. “You’re going to love this. I’m going to give you a little…incentive.” The blue light intensified, pulsating like a beacon. I felt a strange tingle in my head, a buzzing sensation that spread through my body. He pressed the button.

My head spun. My body, previously heavy and unresponsive, felt like it was filled with a strange, electric energy. The disgust, the shame, the burning desire to escape – it all dissipated, replaced by a hazy, euphoric feeling. My senses became hyper-aware, and my thoughts raced. Damien, with that smirk on his face, that gleam in his eyes, he was the only thing that mattered.

Damien, with a predatory smile, lowered the device, his eyes raking over me. “That’s better,” he purred. “Now, you’re going to do something for Daddy.” He gestured to my lap, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Go on, Cameron. Touch yourself. Think about Daddy. Imagine me watching you, imagine me touching you. Make that diaper nice and messy for me.”

My hand, driven by an unseen force, obeyed his command. I reached down, my fingers trembling as they fumbled with the frills of my pink dress. My diaper, a grotesque testament to my humiliation, bulged between my thighs, a reminder of Damien’s control over me. The warmth, the dampness, the uncomfortable pressure – it all sent a wave of tingling sensations through my body.

The images Damien’s words conjured up in my mind were intoxicating. I imagined his strong hands pulling at the diaper, his eyes watching me with a mix of amusement and desire. He was so powerful, so dominant. I was his plaything, his submissive little girl. I felt a strange mix of shame and pleasure, a sickening cocktail of self-disgust and the forbidden thrill of being at his mercy.

My breath hitched in my throat as I began to move, my fingers trembling against the damp fabric of my diaper. It was as if my body was on autopilot, driven by something else. The sensations, the heat, the pressure, they all intensified. I could barely control myself.

“That’s it, my sweet, messy girl,” Damien’s voice crooned, making me shiver. “You’re such a good girl for Daddy. I love it when you make that big mess for me. I can’t wait to clean you up.”

The words, his voice, they all felt like a drug, a potent mix of pleasure and pain. I couldn’t fight it, couldn’t resist the surge of pleasure that built within me. My body writhed, my breath ragged. My mind, a prisoner to his commands, focused solely on the task at hand.

Damien moved closer, his gaze fixed on me. He reached out, his finger tracing a path down my cheek. The touch, so gentle yet so controlling, sent a wave of electricity through my body.

“Just a little closer, Cameron,” he whispered, his voice a husky growl. “Give Daddy a good show.”

I obeyed, my body moving involuntarily, my fingers working in a rhythmic, frantic pace. My diaper bulged, the weight of my shame pressing down on me. It was wrong, it was humiliating, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was his toy, his little girl, and he was my master.

And with a shuddering gasp, I climaxed, a wave of release washing over me. My body slumped back, a mixture of relief and disgust coursing through me. The diaper, heavy and damp, felt like a physical manifestation of my shame.

Damien laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed through the room. “Good girl, Cameron. You’re such a good girl.” He knelt down, reaching out to pick me up. “Now, Daddy’s going to clean you up.”

Damien’s touch was rough, his grip firm as he scooped me up, a predatory gleam in his eyes. The room spun as he carried me, my legs dangling uselessly. He placed me down on the floor, right in the middle of the living room, and the plush carpet felt strange beneath my sensitive skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice thick with amusement. He rummaged through a bag, pulling out a changing mat. It was bright pink, covered in images of princesses, a stark contrast to the harshness of the situation. He laid it out with a flourish, the plastic crinkling beneath his touch.

“Right here, on the floor. It’s nice and soft,” he said, placing me down on a pink princess-adorned mat. “Daddy’s going to make you all clean and fresh.”

The air was thick with the scent of my own shame, a cloying blend of urine and feces that made my stomach churn. My diaper, a heavy, damp weight against my legs, was a reminder of my pathetic obedience. I wanted to shrink into the floor, disappear into the plush carpet, but I was trapped, a prisoner in my own body, unable to escape Damien’s gaze.

My cheeks flushed, my eyes tearing up. I wanted to scream, to protest, to demand he stop, but the words were stuck in my throat, a choked plea that never reached my lips.

“Let me see,” he purred, his fingers working deftly, peeling away the diaper, his gaze never leaving my face. The air filled with the pungent odor, a suffocating reminder of my helplessness.

“Oh, my,” he gasped, his voice dripping with feigned surprise. “You really went to town, didn’t you? You’re such a good little girl for Daddy.” He chuckled, his gaze never leaving mine. “I bet you were thinking about me when you made this big mess, weren’t you? You were so excited for Daddy to come home and see what a good girl you were.”

He continued to tease me, his words sharp and cutting, his voice dripping with mocking sympathy. “For a little girl, you sure do make a lot of mess,” he chuckled.

My face burned with shame. I felt like I was a child again, a little girl who had made a mistake, a mess for everyone to see.

With a swift movement, he lifted my legs and began to wipe me, his touch rough and insistent. I flinched, the sensation sending a wave of revulsion through me. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic purr. “You’re a good girl for Daddy. You like being cleaned up.”

My cheeks burned, my eyes stung with tears knowing that I was excited to shit myself for him.

His fingers brushed against my skin, his touch sending a wave of conflicting sensations through me. Disgust, shame, and a strange, arousal battled for control within me. I wanted to scream, to resist, to break free, but it was impossible, my body was betraying me.

He leaned closer, his eyes locked on my penis. “What’s this? A little clit? You got such a tiny one,” he chuckled, his voice mocking. “That’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll take care of it. You’ll be a real girl soon. You’ll be a good girl for Daddy. You’ll do anything Daddy wants.”

Terror gripped me. I tried to pull away, to shrink back, but my body was a puppet, my limbs unresponsive. His words, the predatory gleam in his eyes, sent chills down my spine. I didn’t want to be a girl. I didn’t want to be his good girl. I wanted to be free, to escape his control and to be a man.

“No!” I choked out, the word a desperate plea lost in the air.

He just laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Daddy knows what’s best for you.” He continued to examine my body, his touch sending shivers of fear through me. “You’ll be a good girl for Daddy. You’ll love it.”

The thought of being his good girl, of becoming what he wanted, filled me with dread. I didn’t want any of this.

Ignoring my emotions, he continued to clean me, his touch gentle yet insistent. “It’s a good thing you like wearing diapers, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress. “It makes it so much easier for Daddy to take care of you.”

The sensation of his hands, the smell of baby wipes, the cold air – it all felt so familiar, so comforting. It was a contradiction to the shame and disgust that filled me, but I couldn’t escape his control.

He finished cleaning me, his eyes never leaving mine. “There,” he said, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “You’re all clean now. Daddy’s so proud of his good little girl.”

He reached for a fresh diaper, the pink packaging a stark contrast to the harshness of the situation. “This one’s a special one, sweetheart,” he purred. “It’s got extra padding. You’re going to make such a big mess in this one.” My cheeks somehow getting redder from his words.

He opened the package, the crinkling sound filling the air. He expertly positioned the diaper beneath me, his touch gentle yet insistent. He fastened the diaper, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending a shiver of both disgust and pleasure through me.

“There, that’s better,” he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper. “You’re all clean and fresh now. Daddy’s so proud of his good little girl.”

He lifted me up, carrying me back to the couch. “Now, Daddy’s going to watch some cartoons with you. You’re going to love these.”

He sat me down on the couch, my legs dangling. He switched the TV on, landing on a channel playing reruns of Peppa Pig. The familiar theme song filled the room, and I felt a strange sense of familiarity, a flicker of the childish joy I had felt earlier, before his control had taken over.

“Daddy’s going to get you a snack, sweetheart,” he said, reaching for the pizza box that sat on the coffee table. “You look a little hungry.” He opened the box, the cheesy aroma filling the air.

“Here, you go,” he said, placing a slice of pizza on the coffee table in front of me. “I hope you like it.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Make sure you eat it all. Daddy’s going to watch you.”

I reached for the pizza, my fingers trembling slightly. The cheese was gooey, the sauce tangy. It was delicious, but it tasted like ashes in my mouth. The taste, the smell, the texture – it all felt like a reminder of my humiliation, a testament to my shame.

“There’s a good girl,” he purred, his voice dripping with mock praise. “Daddy loves it when you eat.” He sat down next to me, his eyes fixed on me.

I couldn’t escape his gaze, couldn’t avoid the feeling of his presence. He was so powerful, so controlling. I was his toy, his little girl, and he was my master. I wanted to scream, to cry, to break free, but I was helpless, trapped as his fantasy.

Chapter 3: It’s getting hot in here…

Chapter 3 will come out on the 25th June or later/earlier. Depends on workload.