Page 164 of Morally Gray Daddies

"Now then," Daddy Victor said, his tone brusque. "Finish your meal. We leave in 30 minutes. I’ll bring your going away outfit when I come to get you."

As I mechanically spooned bland mush into my mouth, my mind raced. What would life be like as Lord Adrian's "little girl"? What was my going away outfit? Would he expect me to stay in diapers? To submit to his sexual whims at any moment? The thought sent an unwelcome shiver of excitement through me, which I quickly tried to suppress.

True to his word, Daddy Victor returned exactly thirty minutes later. In his arms, he carried a bundle of pastel fabric and what was unmistakably another thick cloth diaper. My cheeks flushed hot at the sight.

"Stand up, Emily," he instructed. "It's time to get you dressed for your new life as a well-behaved young lady."

On shaky legs, I rose from the narrow bed. Daddy Victor set the items down on the small desk, then turned to me with the diaper in his hands.

"Arms up," he commanded.

I hesitated for just a moment before complying, raising my arms above my head. Daddy Victor deftly pulled the thin camisole off, leaving me completely naked. I fought the urge to cover myself, knowing it would only lead to punishment.

"Lie down on the bed," he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

Biting my lip, I did as I was told. The scratchy blanket felt rough against my bare skin. Daddy Victor approached with the diaper, and I felt my face burn even hotter.

"Lift your bottom," he instructed.

Closing my eyes in mortification, I raised my hips off the bed, just as I had for Lord Adrian. The idea that I might get used to this terrible degradation occurred to me, but every fiber of my being rejected it immediately: how could I possibly get used to being forcibly infantilized?

I felt the thick cloth slide beneath me, followed by the now-familiar sensation of cool cream being applied to my pussy and my bottom crack. The baby powder scent filled my nostrils as Daddy Victor dusted it over my skin. With efficient movements, he fastened the diaper snugly around my hips.

"There we are," he said, patting my padded bottom. "Now for the rest of your outfit."

I watched as he unfolded a pale pink dress with puffed sleeves and a Peter Pan collar. It looked like something a very young girl might wear to church. Daddy Victor helped me into it, buttoning it up the back. The hem fell just above my knees, doing little to hide the obvious bulk of the diaper beneath.

"Stand up and look in the mirror," he instructed.

On wobbly legs, I rose and turned to face the small mirror mounted on the wall. My reflection shocked me. In the childish dress, with the clear outline of a diaper visible, I looked for all the world like an overgrown toddler. Tears pricked at my eyes.

"This is what you are now, Emily," Daddy Victor said firmly. "Lord Adrian's little girl. You'd do well to accept it."

He handed me a pair of white ankle socks with lace trim and patent leather Mary Jane shoes. As I slipped them on, the infantile ensemble was complete.

"Come along," Daddy Victor said, taking my hand. “The van is waiting.”

An hour or so later my Training Daddy ushered me, to my astonishment, into an opulent penthouse apartment, located in the heart of bustling London. The sleek black marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows gave it a modern and luxurious feel. As I entered, my eyes were immediately drawn to the plush velvet couch and designer coffee table in the spacious living room. The state-of-the-art kitchen boasted top-of-the-line appliances and a marble countertop. I followed Daddy Victor down the grand hallway, passing by a stylish guest bedroom before reaching my own lavish en-suite bathroom and king-sized bed in the master suite. This was not just an ordinary apartment - it was a luxurious oasis fit for a queen. I could hardly believe my eyes.

A queen in diapers.

"This will be your home for the duration of your rehabilitation," Daddy Victor explained. "Lord Adrian has provided the basic necessities, but you'll be expected to maintain it properly."

I nodded mutely, still overwhelmed by the rapid changes. Just days ago, I had been an independent young woman with a job and my own place. Now, I was essentially a kept woman — worse than that, the "little girl" of a man I barely knew.

"Your clothes are in the bedroom closet," Daddy Victor continued. "Lord Adrian has asked us to select an appropriate wardrobe for you. You'll find that most items reinforce your new status."

My cheeks burned at the implication. What kind of clothes had Lord Adrian chosen for me? Were they all like the mortifying dress I had on?

"Now then," Daddy Victor said, his tone growing stern. "Get your new phone and open up the app. There’s a new section there, called Rules."

Chapter Seven

Lord Adrian

I watched, via the surveillance camera in the living room of Emily’s apartment, as she read the rules I had laid down in the Selecta Arrangements app. I had to confess myself very impressed by the app: it seemed I had the ability to observe everything that happened, throughout the beautiful flat my really rather modest payment to Selecta had rented for my new little girl fuck toy.

Add to that the extreme ease with which I had selected Emily’s wardrobe, and the helpful suggestions the app had given for her rules, and Selecta had made of me a very satisfied customer already. I didn’t know how much time my schedule would allow me to spend with the girl, and I also felt the need to avoid serious entanglement, of course. Just knowing I had her there at my disposal, though, at least brought a little happiness into the gloom of my usual existence on the fringes of respectability — not to mention the urgent leap of my cock in my trousers that the memory of fucking her generally brought about.

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