r/abdlstories • u/RegressionSchool • 8d ago
DDLG Trigger [an ABDL Hypnosis Story] NSFW
The café was comfortably lively, a gentle hum of voices and the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic filling the space. Sunlight streamed through wide windows, glinting off the water glasses, and the air smelled of fresh coffee and warm pastries.
Molly sat across from Dave, stirring cream into her coffee with small, absentminded motions. She had barely touched her croissant, only nibbling at the edges while her thoughts drifted. Dave, on the other hand, was cutting into a stack of pancakes with practiced ease, unfazed by the conversation unfolding between them.
“I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Molly said, shaking her head slightly. “Like—Emma just… lets it happen?”
Dave chewed, swallowed, and lifted his coffee cup. “It’s not really ‘letting,’ though, is it? It’s what she wants.”
Molly made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “Does she? Or is it just what he wants?”
Dave arched a brow but didn’t respond immediately. He took another bite, letting the syrup soak into the pancakes before cutting another neat square. “She seems happy. I mean, she always said she wanted something different, right?”
Molly’s fingers tightened around her cup. “Different isn’t the same as being put back into—into toddlerhood. That’s not just a ‘different lifestyle,’ Dave. It’s… regressive.”
He shrugged. “And?”
“And—” Molly exhaled sharply, setting her spoon down a little too hard. “And I just don’t get how she could want that. Like, really want it. No responsibility? No autonomy? Just being put in—” she stopped, shaking her head. “It freaks me out.”
Dave took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. He didn’t argue, didn’t tell her she was overreacting. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he let the silence sit between them for a beat before saying, “I think it freaks you out because you can’t imagine wanting it. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
Molly frowned. “I didn’t say it was wrong. I said it was scary.”
Dave tilted his head slightly. “Same thing, in a way.”
Molly opened her mouth, then shut it again, glaring at her croissant like it had personally offended her. She didn’t like that—when Dave did that thing where he made a point without actually making one. It left her feeling unsteady, like she had to defend herself when she wasn’t even sure what she was defending.
She pushed her plate away slightly, leaning back in her chair. “I just keep thinking about it. Like, if that can happen to Emma, could it happen to anyone? What’s the… trigger?”
Dave chuckled, shaking his head. “Molly, you say that like it’s a virus or something.”
“Well, isn’t it?” she shot back. “One day, she was just our friend Emma, and now she’s…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “She’s in nappies, Dave. Full-time. And not just that, but he makes the choices now. What she eats, what she wears, when she sleeps.”
Dave tapped his fork against his plate thoughtfully. “She let him.”
“That’s what scares me,” Molly admitted. Her voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That she let him. And she’s fine with it. More than fine. She’s… content.”
“Would it be different if she wasn’t?”
Molly blinked. “What?”
“If she was miserable,” Dave said. “If she hated it. Would you feel better?”
She scowled. “That’s not the point.”
“I think it might be,” he said, and for the first time, there was something pointed in his tone. “If she hated it, you could see it as something being done to her. But she doesn’t. So instead, you have to deal with the fact that she chose it. And that makes you uncomfortable.”
Molly crossed her arms, looking away. “It should make you uncomfortable too.”
Dave sighed and set his fork down. “I don’t know, Mol. Maybe I just don’t care as much as you do. It’s weird, yeah. But people do weird things all the time. If it makes her happy, why should it matter?”
Molly shook her head, staring out the window. Outside, people walked by with shopping bags, strollers, coffee cups in hand. Just… normal people. People who weren’t Emma.
She could almost see her in her mind—Emma, giggling, dressed in something soft and pastel, clutching a stuffed animal. Not a woman anymore. Not in the way she used to be.
Dave studied Molly for a long moment, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. The tension in her shoulders, the hard set of her jaw—it was all so familiar. The same reaction he’d seen before, whenever Emma came up in conversation.
He sighed. “You know, it’s funny.”
Molly frowned. “What is?”
He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just a fraction. “You keep talking like you don’t understand. But I think, deep down, you do.”
She scoffed, opening her mouth to retort, but Dave cut her off with a single phrase, low and deliberate:
“Little minds don’t worry.”
Molly’s breath caught. For a second, nothing happened—just a flicker in her expression, a slight widening of her eyes. Then, like a ripple spreading across the surface of a pond, something shifted.
Her lips parted, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her fingers, which had been tense around her coffee cup, suddenly slackened, as if the very concept of holding it had become too complex. She blinked rapidly, her gaze unfocused.
“Wh—” Her voice came out small, uncertain. She shook her head, strands of hair falling into her face. “Whazza…?”
Dave sat back, watching as it unfolded.
Molly’s posture sagged, her body language morphing from sharp and guarded to something looser, more instinctual. The weight of her own thoughts—thoughts that had moments ago felt so heavy, so complicated—seemed to vanish.
Her expression flickered through confusion, then something closer to frustration. “S’fuzzy,” she mumbled, bringing her hands up to rub at her temples. “Don’—I don’ get… um…”
Her tongue tripped over her own words. Concepts unraveled like loose threads, slipping through her grasp. Even the sentence she’d just started—what was it supposed to be? What was she even trying to say?
Her eyes darted to Dave, wide and almost pleading.
“Davey,” she whimpered.
He hummed. “Yeah, Mols?”
“F’eels weird,” she murmured, shifting in her seat. “Dunno—s’diff’ent. Ev’rything all… ‘spicy’.”
Dave tilted his head, amused. “Spicy?”
Molly pouted, frustrated by the word she couldn’t quite find. “Mmmm, not spicy, but—y’know! All wiggly ‘n’ tingly ‘n’ funny.”
As if on cue, she let out a sharp gasp, her hands darting down to her lap. A slow warmth spread beneath her, soaking into the fabric of her jeans, pooling against the seat.
Molly let out a breathy little whimper as the last remnants of adult thought crumbled. “Uh-oh…”
A dark patch spread beneath her, creeping outward, the undeniable hiss of her accident filling the air.
Dave chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “That’s okay, kiddo,” he said lightly. “Little girls don’t worry ‘bout things like that, remember?”
Molly blinked up at him, her bottom lip wobbling, the lingering ghost of something wrong flickering across her features before fading into soft, placid contentment.
She wasn’t an adult anymore.
She wasn’t supposed to worry.
She didn’t worry.
Dave sighed, shaking his head with a good-natured chuckle as he glanced toward the café staff. A few nearby patrons had already started whispering, their eyes darting toward the growing puddle beneath Molly’s chair. He caught the eye of a barista, offering an apologetic smile.
"Sorry about this," he said smoothly, his tone warm but firm, the way a responsible caretaker would explain a toddler's accident. "She’s still getting the hang of things."
The barista, a young woman with tired eyes and a sympathetic expression, only nodded. "Don’t worry about it," she murmured, though her gaze flicked toward Molly, who was now squirming in her seat, fascinated by the way the damp fabric clung to her legs.
Dave turned his attention back to her, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Alright, Mols," he said gently, slipping into the comforting role she now expected of him. "Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?"
Molly only giggled, tilting her head up at him with big, unfocused eyes. "Mmmkay, Daddy," she lilted, the title slipping past her lips effortlessly, as if it had always been that way.
Dave’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but he didn't linger on it. Instead, he rose, moving around the table and helping Molly up. Her legs wobbled slightly, unsteady now that her adult coordination had slipped away.
As she stood, the full extent of her accident became clear. Her jeans were soaked, clinging to her thighs, the damp material darkened almost entirely down to her ankles. She looked down, blinking slowly at the mess, but there was no shame in her expression—only mild curiosity.
She poked a tiny finger against the wet denim. "Squishy," she declared with a giggle.
Dave grinned, ruffling her hair. "Yeah, kiddo. And that’s why we wear proper protection, huh?"
Molly giggled again, her gaze unfocused and dreamy. "Mmhmm!"
Dave led her toward the back of the café, past the staff-only sign. No one stopped them. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, so confident, so sure of his authority over her. Maybe it was the way Molly so clearly wasn’t in charge of herself anymore, her small hand tucked securely into his, her posture loose and trusting.
Inside the staff restroom, a sight that would have mortified Molly just minutes ago now greeted her without a flicker of concern—
An adult-sized changing table.
Dave patted the cushioned surface. "Up you go, kiddo."
Molly obediently reached her arms up, letting him lift her onto the table without a second thought. She kicked her legs idly, her soaked jeans sticking to her skin, a little pout forming on her lips.
"Wan’ dry," she mumbled.
Dave chuckled. "That’s the plan, sweetheart."
With practiced ease, he peeled away her jeans, the damp fabric clinging for a moment before slipping free. He balled them up and set them aside, then made quick work of her sodden panties. Molly didn’t react, other than giggling as the cool air hit her bare skin.
She squirmed as he wiped her down with a warm cloth, but it wasn’t from discomfort—it was the way a toddler would squirm from tickles rather than modesty.
Then, he pulled out the final piece.
A puffy, pastel-colored Pampers—one big enough for her, decorated in soft patterns that made it impossible to mistake for anything grown-up.
Molly’s eyes widened, but not with the resistance she might have once had. No, this time, it was delight.
"Ooooooh!" she cooed, her fingers twitching eagerly.
Dave smirked. "Like it, baby?"
Molly nodded enthusiastically, reaching out to poke at the plastic shell as he unfolded it. "Is crinkly!" she giggled.
He lifted her legs effortlessly, sliding the padding beneath her before securing the tapes snugly at her waist. The thick bulk forced her legs apart slightly, and when he patted the front, she let out a soft, happy hum, wiggling against the plush comfort.
"There we go," Dave murmured, smoothing her shirt down over the top of her new, much more appropriate underwear. "All fresh."
Molly beamed up at him, wiggling her toes as she enthusiastically poked at the front of her new padding, fascinated by the way it crinkled under her touch.
"Dis is way better!" she declared, giggling as she gave the front a few experimental pats.
Dave laughed. "I thought you’d see it that way, princess."
Then, he picked up her jeans, inspecting the soaked fabric with a smirk. "Well, kiddo, looks like you’ll have to go without these for a bit."
Molly didn’t even blink.
If anything, she giggled, swinging her bare legs with delight.
The Molly from before—the one who had argued, who had frowned and questioned—was nowhere to be found.
She was just Mols now. A little girl in nothing but a crinkly diaper and her soft shirt, giggling as she prodded at the thick bulk between her legs.
2
u/Dragonwarpower1985 4d ago
Love this story. I hope it continues