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The Diary Of A Bad Boy


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Sorry I've been slow in continuing. I hate it when others delay this much. I also need to get back to writing more. I have some ideas of where I'm going, but I just haven't had a chance to write. If you're following this story, let me know what you think. Feel free to make suggestions as well - if your ideas seem to me better than my own, I'll give them a shot.

Now for more story:

Part 9: Saturday afternoon and more

The decision had been made. Up from my enforced nap, I was being changed from my now wet cloth diapers. After having my diaper area cleaned thoroughly with wipes, I looked up to see Amy standing over me with a pair of shimmery yellow bikini panties.

“We’re going to be out for a while,” Amy said as she slid the panties over my feet and up my legs, “so I’m not sure what’s going to happen to these cute little panties. What do you think?”

“I…I…don’t know. I’m a little afraid. Will you let me use a bathroom? I don’t know how long we’ll be and if I wet, it would go right through my panties and soak my pants.”

Amy taunted me, “So you’re saying you don’t think you can control your pee-pee anymore? Is that it? Oh, I’d let you use a bathroom if we were close enough to have it do you any good. But I don’t want to be anywhere near you if you flood your little panties and make a big scene. Whatever could we do? Should we take off your sissy panties and put you in nice double-thick cloth diapers?”

“Amy, please don’t put me in thick diapers. People would know. You promised. Please.”

“Well, let’s see. Is there any kind of compromise? Hmmm. What do you think, little one?”

She was forcing me into a corner and was going to make me say the only other alternative.

I hesitated and finally whispered, “Well, maybe you could have me wear a Bambino. If I wear my baggy windpants, people might not notice.”

Amy smiled and said, “What was that, little boy? You want to wear a Bambino? Is that what you said? Speak up. I’m not sure I heard what you said. Say it nice and loud and clear.”

I reddened all the more but spoke out clearly, “Please let me wear a Bambino. I think I could keep my panties dry, but I’m afraid of people seeing me.”

“What a good idea you’ve given me. I’m going to leave you in your panties, but since you practically begged me, I’ll put you in a Bambino. If you need to pee, just tell me and we’ll try to find a rest room. That way, if you don’t make it you won’t embarrass me with your inability to hold it.”

I didn’t like the sound of having to wear the panties under the diaper, but before I could dare say anything, the Bambino was securely taped on and a pair of clear plastic panties slipped up into place. In spite of my request for my windpants, Amy laid out a pair of my regular jeans and a pull-over crew shirt. I had to work a little to get the plastic panties into the jeans and still a little bit of plastic stuck up above the waist. Thankfully, the shirt was long and went at least half-way down to my crotch. I felt like I had a huge balloon around my waist, but Amy looked at me with full approval.

“OK, let’s get going,” she said. When we entered the garage, I headed for the driver’s side since I always drove when the two of us went out together. “No, no, diaperpt. Mommy drives. I won’t make you sit in the back seat, like a little boy should, because that would be too obvious. Get in now and let Mommy buckle you.” Blushing brightly, I complied and soon we were on our way.

It turned out our first stop was at the grocery store. I walked very self-consciously at first, certain that everyone would notice the large bubble around my waist and at the very least, the rustle of my plastic pants would be obvious to anyone within a couple of yards of me. Amy leaned in and whispered, “Relax, diaper boy. People will notice if you walk like that!”

I tried to relax, but still I was sure people would notice and there was always a chance we’d run into someone we knew. Whether it was obvious or not, I felt the bulk of the diaper and in spite of the fact that my jeans held down the rustling of the plastic panties, I felt like I was producing vast quantities of crinkly thunder with every step.

Finally, once I realized that people were paying us no attention, I began to relax a little. While Amy had told me to relax, she also made me bend to get items from the lower shelves and reach high to the upper shelves. Still, I could tell my long shirt would not ride up over my jeans and I began to feel a little secure. We’d done most of the week’s grocery shopping and it was becoming a non-event, but still I felt some tension. My nervousness, however, rose to a fever pitch as we walked down the baby aisle and Amy had me pick up a large bottle of baby oil, a huge tub of wipes along with a smaller travel pack, and a large container of baby powder.

“Relax, diaper boy,” she said softly. “Remember, diapers were your idea! You’re committed now; we need this stuff to keep you nice and fresh. We can get most of the other supplies online, but this stuff is right here.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that if Amy was sincere about keeping me in diapers, we’d need to buy these supplies on a regular basis. I tried to put them in the cart so they wouldn’t be obvious. Just then, Bill and Rose Evans from two houses down, wheeled their carriage down the aisle. I wanted to shrink up and disappear, but instead felt as obvious as one of the Macy’s parade balloons.

“Hi, Amy,” said Rose. Bill chimed in, “Nice to see you guys. Gosh, I didn’t know you two had a baby,” he said chuckling. Rose glared at him and said, “I’m sorry for this big oaf! He’s got no sensitivity at all. It’s a wonder I let him out at all!”

Amy did a wonderful job of covering. “Oh, Rose, that’s OK. Maybe someday I’ll have the baby I’ve always wanted,” she said, winking slyly at me. “And in the meantime, these products may be for babies, but I love the scent of the baby oil for dry skin and the wipes come in so handy at times. Do you ever use these products, Rose?”

“Oh, yes. I tried the generic products and while they do the job, I agree with you that the scent of the brand name products is just adorable.”

After a slight pause, Rose then added, “I’ve always thought you and I have a lot in common. Besides baby oil and wipes, of course.” She laughed a little and said, “All four of us ought to get to know each other a little better. Why don’t we get together as couples some time? What do you say?”

I started fidgeting and began to speak, “Well, that would be nice, but…” and Amy chimed in over me to say, “That’s a great idea, Rose. What Peter was going to say is we’re tied up for a little bit, but maybe we can get together sometime after the holidays. Is that OK with you two? I’ll give you a call.” I didn’t notice the wink she’d given Rose and I gave a heavy sigh as we parted and continued our shopping. Rather than risk punishment for any improper comments, I kept my silence.

We finished our shopping and started home to put away the groceries. Just as I’d gotten into the car, I sensed an urgent message from my bladder. “Amy, I’ve got to pee. May I go to the bathroom in the store, please?”

“Oh, you should have said something sooner, sweetie. It’s too late to use the bathroom in the store. We’re already in the car. You can wait til we get home, can’t you?”

“I don’t know. It’s a long drive and you promised I could use a bathroom.”

“Don’t get snippy with me, little boy. I told you we’d try to get you to a bathroom. We could have if you’d been a grown-up and told me while we were still in the store! Now you will have to wait.”

Partway home, Amy announced we were going to stop at the meat market as we usually did on Saturdays. We preferred the quality meats they had over anything in the grocery store. “Good,” I thought. “I can use the restroom there!” By the time, I got out of the car at the market, my bladder was stretched to the max. I walked gingerly into the store behind Amy. The store was quite crowded and so I quietly announced, “Amy, I’m going to use the rest room, OK?”

She looked at me strangely and said quietly, “What do you mean? How are you going to use the rest room?”

I looked at her with a puzzled look. “You said I could use the rest room while we were out if I needed to pee,” I said.

“Oh silly boy, I may have said that to make you feel better, but think about it. You’ve got a big thick unused Bambino diaper on. Do you really think you’re going to go into the rest room of a crowded shop like this, lower your plastic panties, untape your diaper and use the toilet? Even if you try to use a stall, it’s going to be pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

Her words slapped into my consciousness as I glanced over to the area where the rest rooms were only to see someone standing outside the men’s room already. What was I thinking? Now what was I going to do? I thought for a while and said, “I’m going to give it a shot. I think I can lock the door and I’ll be OK. I’ll undo the tapes carefully too, so I can refasten them. I can do it.”

“OK, little one,” she said quietly. “If you are sure you can pull it off…and I don’t mean your diaper!” She gave me a smirky smile as I walked off toward the rest room. I hadn’t gotten more than six feet from her before the feeling of urgency pushed me to my limit. I looked up to see a guy still standing outside the door. This is a small market. What are the chances that the rest room would be occupied and someone else waiting? Two more steps and I felt a dribble. I stopped short. It was too late. Even if those guys hadn’t been standing there, I’d never have been able to get my plastic pants down, diaper untaped and finally my panties down in order to pee. Now even as I stood there, I felt myself almost involuntarily releasing more. Even after the initial dribbles, my little sissy panties would have been damp and I’d be found out eventually anyway. My whole body sagged and I slunk back to Amy.

Smirking at me she asked, “Why the change of heart? I thought you were going to try to be a big boy and go to the men’s room. Did you change your mind or weren’t you such a big boy after all? Hmm?”

I didn’t want to answer, but I knew I’d only dig myself in deeper if I didn’t. “It wasn’t my fault. I needed to go at the grocery store and you wouldn’t let me.”

An instant glare told me this was not the thing to say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re right! You shouldn’t have said that! Who is it here that wears diapers? Who is it here who keeps wetting them? If your diapers are wet, just whose fault is it?”

I hung my head and whispered, “It’s my own fault. It’s my own pee and my own diaper. I’m sorry. And I know I wet my panties too.”

Brightening a little she softened her expression and took my chin in her hand, “That’s OK, little boy. I knew you wouldn’t last in those panties. That’s why I diapered you and that’s what your diapers are for. You’ve just got to get used to the fact that your diapers aren’t just something you like to wear. You need to wear them, don’t you?”

She held her grip on my chin and continued smiling at me until I said, “I guess. I guess I need my diapers.”

“Oh, you don’t need to guess. You certainly do need them. Well, OK little boy, let’s finish shopping here and go home.”

By the time we were home, I’d wet again and while I was upset and embarrassed especially about wetting again into my sissy panties, I was beginning to adjust to the idea that I was wearing diapers and was going to be in situations where I just had no choice but to use them. If you have a runny nose, you use a tissue or a handkerchief. If you spill something on the floor, you use a paper towel to clean it up. When you are sick, you might have to take some medication. It’s all cause and effect. That’s what life is. I’m wearing a diaper, so I’m going to end up using it. What’s the big deal?

At least, I tried to make myself believe this. What’s the big deal? The big deal is that I’m being coerced into wearing diapers. The big deal is that I don’t really need diapers and am being humiliated and embarrassed constantly now. The big deal is that my life has been turned inside out and upside down since Amy found out about my diaper fetish. Now I have no life other than what Amy allows me. That’s the big deal!

This was only reinforced as Amy brought me upstairs to be changed. Instead of being brought into our bedroom, though, I was steered to the guest room. I thought it was strange that the door was closed and stood there waiting for Amy to give me instructions – in itself an indication of how far I’d fallen!

“Go ahead, diaperpt. Open the door and go in,” she said with a smile in her voice.

Turning the handle and pushing the door open, I was in shock. I was close to fainting and my mouth fell open as I heard Jill say, “SURPRISE,LITTLE BOY!”

I struggled to take in what I now saw. Against the opposite wall was a big metal crib. I had seen pictures of these before online. It held an almost twin sized mattress and had a drop front and a barred top as well. It was meant for institutions where children needed to be confined to their crib.

“See your new cribby, little boy?” Jill said. “Look over here at your changing table!” I turned my glance to see what looked like a padded massage table. “It’s only for now. We’re getting you a specially made changing table. It’s going to have a nice padded top, with straps so you won’t fall off and places for restraints in case we need them. It’ll have plenty of drawer space for your diapers and plastic panties and all your other supplies, too. We can’t get it all, all at once. Isn’t this nice though?”

So this was the surprise. A little more than a week ago and this would be beyond my wildest dreams. Now it was the stuff of my worst nightmare. I stood there still in shock and I felt myself wet yet again, this time without even feeling the beginning of the flow. My lip quivered.

Amy prodded me to step forward into the room and said, “Go ahead, baby. You climb right up on your new changing table and by the way, you need to thank Aunty Jill. She stayed here while we were gone and let in the men to set up your new crib here in your room. She also set up your changing table and brought in all your stuff from my bedroom.”

Her words ran through me like cold steel. This was now my room…my crib…my changing table. What had been ‘our’ bedroom was now ‘her’ bedroom. I had continued to hope that if I cooperated and went along with Amy that I stood a pretty good chance of her softening. That had been my new fantasy. I used to fantasize about wearing diapers and using them. I used to fantasize that Amy would participate with me. That fantasy had disappeared last Saturday morning and it had begun to become an unpleasant reality. Now the fantasy that somehow I could restore my life to what it had been was being shattered as well.

The shipments of diapers, cloth and disposable, along with onesies, plastic pants, bibs and bottles had been a blow to my hopes of returning to adult life, but now the changes in this room completely obliterated any hopes I’d had left. I slunk toward the changing table. Resigned to my fate, but still totally dejected, I allowed Jill to loosen my belt and jeans and let them fall to the floor. I slipped out of my shoes as Jill pulled my shirt up over my head. She gently guided me onto the plastic covered cushion and soon she was removing my wet diaper to reveal my shamefully wet panties.

Amy looked on and commented, “Well, it’s sort of a shame you wet your little panties, but you just should have known it was going to be inevitable. Do you think you’re going to be able to get through this coming week wearing panties to work? It really seems like you are losing whatever little boy control you’ve had. I think you’re going to have to start wearing your diapers all the time.”

Again the words burned into my psyche. “But I can’t wear diapers to work. How will I change them? People will know.”

Amy replied softly, “But diaper boy, I don’t think you have a choice! If you are going to wet your pants all the time, people are certainly going to notice that! We’ll talk more about this tomorrow, but you need to start thinking of a plan for yourself. Who in your office is someone you can trust with a secret? Maybe it won’t have to be about your diapers. I’ll help you think of a good cover story, but it’ll have to be someone you can go to at least a couple times a day.”

“But, Amy…”

“No buts about it. Just start thinking now. I said we’ll talk more tomorrow. For now, once you’re changed you can come downstairs and sit on the floor and watch some TV with Aunty Jill and I.”

By this time, Jill had me cleaned up and into double thick cloth diapers. She finished up by snapping up a pair of yellow baby print side-snap plastic panties and helped me on with an Elmo onesie.

The rest of the afternoon and evening went fast and soon I was dressed and ready for bed. It seemed strange to lie on the new changing table, but I could tell it was at an easier height for either Amy or Jill to change me. I was wiped carefully, oiled and then powdered before my new thick night-time diapers were drawn up between my legs and pinned tightly. They were topped by a new pair of yellow plastic panties with a print of babies playing with blocks. Amy helped me into a big baby-blue footed sleeper and zipped it all the way up to my neck. I was a little surprised there was no lock on it until I was allowed to roll into my new crib and Amy produced another new set of equipment.

“Won’t it be nice for you in your new cribby! You won’t need to be restrained. You won’t need the hobble sleeper I used on you last night and you won’t even need locks on your sleeper! You can roll over, curl up, or change position any way you want. Your arms and legs will be completely free! Isn’t that nice, diaper boy?” Amy seemed so proud of herself as she showed me what looked to be oversized fleece baby-print mittens.

“Let’s just slip these on your little hands, sweetie,” she said as she began guiding my fingers into a mitten. Inside it felt more like a glove, with individual fingers. “There you go, see how it works? I made these from an idea I saw on Dailydiapers. Inside is a regular glove, but the fingers are sewn together. Do you feel the piece of soft plastic in the palms? That’s to give it some stiffness without making it so you can’t flex at all. Then it’s covered with the cute little mittens. Aren’t they adorable? Now let me just fasten them.”

I felt a tightening at the wrist and then saw the little padlock snap into place on the wrist band. Once both mittens were in place, she handed me a baby bottle of water. “Here you go, sweetheart. Drink it all gone. Later, I’ll come back in and give you your pacifier. Sweet dreams, little one. Night-night.”

I could barely manage the bottle. Only by working with both mittened hands did I have any hope of it not falling out of my grasp. Once I’d maneuvered the nipple into my mouth, it was easier to hold but still it took concentration to hold on to it. As I began nursing the bottle, I watched and listened as the crib side was slid into place to meet the top and locked. The clanking sound was appropriately less harsh than the slamming of a jail cell, but every bit as efficient.

Each time I moved at all in the crib, the plastic sheet crinkled beneath the fabric baby-print oversheet. Everything about this was entirely infantile. I felt the thick cloth diapers caress my hairless groin. The whispering of plastic panties under my baby sleeper accompanied the rustle of the plastic sheet beneath me and the quiet metallic rattling of the crib bars completed the symphony of sound declaring that I was truly a baby. I might be the size of an adult; I might have recently been an adult; I might still be allowed the outer trappings of adult clothes, but underneath it all, there was to be no doubt. I was a little baby.

As tiredness crept in to soften the embarrassment, a flood of pee warmed my midsection and brought me back to a hard edge of humiliation. I was almost finished with my bottle and even as the gentle sucking seemed to calm me, I was still upset at being forced into this situation. I hadn’t even felt the fullness of my bladder warning me. What was happening? The crinkling of the plastic sheet beneath me ripped into my exhaustion, holding me from the sleep I wanted and needed. Still, the warmth of the sleeper and the freedom of movement granted me in this crib allowed me finally to slip off into a dreamlike state.

I didn’t know when Amy came in to take away my bottle and slip my pacifier into my mouth. I was busy dreaming of being changed into nice thick dry diapers. I dreamed of being dressed in a cute little onesie and then in a toddlerish pair of pants with snaps inside the legs for easy diaper changes. I dreamed of being at work in this outfit and no one noticing at all. That is, until Joelle at the next desk leaned over to me and whispered, “Is it time for a diaper change?” It seemed so natural and OK to me as I got up from my desk and followed her to what I thought was a conference room. When I stepped inside, however, I was directed onto an infantile changing table. And still, it all seemed so right and natural.

I dreamed other dreams as well; I dreamed of wearing my sissy panties to work under my suit. I’d just stood up to go to the men’s room, when I lost control and peed myself horribly. I looked down to see the dark stain spread across my suit and down the pant legs. Everyone in the office stared and laughed.

I also dreamed of being at my office and walking to the men’s room. I dreamed of walking over to a urinal but suddenly being there in only a thick diaper and clear plastic panties. It was no longer the men’s room, but the middle of the office and everyone laughed and pointed at me as a growing wetness of the diaper became obvious to them.

I dreamed of being held tight by Amy and comforted, dressed in my sleeper and thick diapers. I dreamed of Jill taking me to the mall in a huge stroller, being seen by many of my friends and neighbors as I sat in the stroller dressed in diapers and baby clothes, sucking on my pacifier and not caring. I had many dreams that night, many of which I don’t remember. My emotions ran from extreme comfort and contentment to deep humiliation and shame. As I slept, I had no sense that this strange mix of feelings was becoming my reality.

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this sounds almost like my life. but with out the force of wearing diapers. lol. my wife/mommy takes good care of me. and since i have a known medical problem with my bladder and sometimes bowls. all our friends know i wear diapers. and that i sometimes need help with changings. as some times i need to ask my wife to go with me to the rest room. to change my diapers when in public. good luck with this story, i enjoy reading it.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I haven't had time to write and won't for a while more. I try to do a little here and there, but without much success. I do hope to continue this. Here is what I have for right now.

Part 10: Sunday

When I finally woke it was with a start, as I heard the now harsh rattle of the crib bars. As I rose from sleep, I’d felt the freedom of movement and imagined myself in my own bed on a Sunday morning of now weeks ago. Thoughts of the Sunday paper and football on TV began to drift into my half awake mind until the alarm of the crib bars shattered my illusions. The clammy wetness of my diapers warmed as a new flow of urine blended with the stale pee embracing my soft baby-like diaper area. My eyes opened to be reminded of the thick mittens rendering my hands as useless as those of a tiny baby. The rustle of the plastic crib sheet reminded me of the need for complete protection against my own bodily functions over which I had ever decreasing control.

As I lay there waiting for Amy to let me out of my crib, my stomach rumbled a reminder to me that I would be fed whatever and whenever Amy chose. Another rumble, but this time from my bowels suggested that there was yet another function which just might take place before I was allowed up. Time seemed to stand still as rumbles continued. Thankfully, Amy breezed in and let me up in time to get me to the toilet to move my bowels with at least slightly less humiliation. This, even though she insisted on standing there while I voided, then checked carefully to see I’d wiped well and then used a baby wipe to clean me entirely before re-diapering me.

I was fed a baby’s breakfast and given a bottle to drink. While she read the Sunday paper, I was allowed to sit on the baby mat on the family room floor. Later, before lunch I was bathed rather than allowed a shower. Amy rained down humiliating patter as the tub filled with a sweet smelling bubble solution then proceeded to shave the slight re-growth of body hair. I wasn’t allowed to wash myself or even reach for the cloth she used to wipe every inch of my body.

After my bath, I was again re-diapered thickly and put in a cute onesie before being put in my crib for a nap. My hands were put into my new mitts and I struggled with them to hold the bottle Amy gave me to drink. I didn’t think I was tired and it did take me quite a while to drift off. As I did, I thought I could hear Jill and Amy talking downstairs.

I was actually woken by the crib bars being slid down. Jill was there to check my diapers. I was quite wet, but she said I didn’t need a change yet. She got me out of the crib and I was directed downstairs to the family room where Amy was sitting, waiting for us. Jill directed me to my play mat on the floor as she sat on the sofa.

Amy announced it was time to discuss the coming work week and how I was going to handle my new needs, as she said. She outlined options, as we’d discussed a little bit on Saturday. She reminded me that all my big boy panties had been gathered up and delivered to the Salvation Army bin. I still had a good supply of sissy panties, but she reminded me of my proven inability to keep them dry and clean. Even she agreed that the option of cloth diapers was not a place to start, although she didn’t close out the possibility of me needing them and using them eventually.

This left only the option of disposables. I still had some Attends left over, she said, but she suggested we use the Bambino’s. She’d ordered more and they should be delivered this week. She asked if this was OK with me. I waffled my answer, because I didn’t really want to be wearing diapers to work and yet I realized I had no say. I also was beginning to understand that I was beginning to develop a need for diapers. As she had been doing consistently lately, she manipulated me into actually asking to be put in Bambino’s for work.

“Well, I suppose I can let you wear them, but we’ve got the issue of security. You need to prove to me that you’re really willing to wear and use them. Here’s my compromise for you,” speaking as if she was making a concession in allowing me to be diapered at work! “You can wear your Bambino’s but you’ll have locking plastic panties over them. I’ll allow you to change at work, but you’ll need to get the key from a co-worker. Jill and I have developed a cover story for you, although it isn’t particularly compelling. You’re also going to have to bring the used diapers home for us to check. We don’t want you wasting diapers by changing when you don’t need to. What do you think?”

Now, it really didn’t matter what I thought, did it? With the plan defined for me, I was made to ask for it, even though it wasn’t my idea, had no input and was dreading the implementation.

Jill left for home, Amy and I had dinner, and after watching some of Amy’s favorite TV shows, I was put to bed in my new crib. I drifted off to sleep worried about how I could possibly get through the next day.

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Part 11: Monday morning and a new experience at work!

Amy woke me at five to begin getting ready for work. I was beginning to adjust to the new routine, except that this morning after my shower and bowel movement, I was put into a thick Bambino diaper. Next came a pair of plastic panties, then locking plastic panties Amy and Jill had ordered on line. When pulled up my legs and over the first pair of panties, they were a little longer on my legs and rode just above the first pair. On the one hand, I felt I would be safe from leaks, but I cringed as the little lock snapped shut and I was locked in. These weren’t as sturdy as the fabric ones I’d already worn, but unless I destroyed them, there was no way they were coming off.

With all my diaper supplies packed away securely in my new locking briefcase, I headed off to an uncertain day at work. When I arrived, I went straight to Joelle’s desk where she sat anticipating my arrival. She smiled and said, “It certainly is strange that your doctor insists on having your medication locked in your briefcase. It must be some powerful drug, but from what you said on the phone last night, that skin condition you’ve developed is nothing to mess with. I hope you can get past all this and won’t have to have me hold the key to your briefcase on a long term basis. Even so, don’t worry about it, because I want to help in any way I can. Whenever you feel the need for that medication, don’t hesitate to ask me for the key. Just remember what the doctor said; I can only let you have the key twice during the day.”

I blushed and thanked her as I handed her the key, which she then dutifully put in her pocketbook. It was quite embarrassing to have to go to her and ask for the key twice during the day when I felt my diaper would hold no more. Further, I felt like everyone stared at me as I took the key and my briefcase into the men’s room, locking the door behind me. I carefully unlocked the panties, pulled down the other pair of plastic panties, removed my soaked diaper, wiped and oiled myself, then replaced my diaper and locked the panties over the top again. The feeling of a dry diaper was heaven, though, and I didn’t have to worry about diaper leaks at least for a while. With the soiled diaper wrapped in a plastic shopping bag, I re-locked the briefcase and returned to my desk. Joelle smiled kindly and understandingly (in her own thoughts of what had just transpired) and returned the key to her pocketbook.

I needn’t have worried, however, as none of my co-workers bothered to notice my new bathroom habits. No one, not even Joelle, noticed my slightly thicker groin. No one heard the slight rustle of plastic beneath my slacks and no one noticed my new regularity of trips to the restroom. The day ended uneventfully and I drove home in only a slightly damp diaper.

While I was made to give a complete accounting of my day and to show my used diapers, the evening was uneventful as well. Amy said she was proud of me for handling a difficult situation well and after dinner, she actually let me lie on the sofa next to her as she held my evening bottle. She gently stroked my head with her other hand and during the commercials of her TV shows, told me what a good little boy I was getting to be. While embarrassed by the treatment, the words had a positive effect on me and I vowed to myself to continue being good. Of course, I wanted to be ‘good’ so that no one would discover my diapered state. I wanted to be good to avoid the concern of being outted by Amy and thrown out of my own home. I wanted to be good, also, simply to avoid the punishments I’d already experienced at Amy’s hand. As all this washed over me, I simply smiled back up at Amy, who I’d now gotten used to calling Mommy.

That night as I was put in my crib, Mommy leaned over and kissed my forehead, as a good Mommy might kiss her little boy. But then, she repositioned her lips and kissed me on the lips as well. “I’m so proud of you, Peter. You are adapting well to our new relationship. You know I’m the Mommy and know what’s best for you. You are getting used to wearing and using your diapers all the time. Keep being a good boy and things will get even better for us. I promise.”

I fell asleep that night thinking of what she might have in mind as making our relationship better. I didn’t know if this was something I’d like or not. I knew I didn’t have a say in the matter, but still I drifted off sucking on my pacifier, hoping that Mommy would be right; that our relationship would get better.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Sorry I haven't written in so long. While this story doesn't seem to be a run-away success, there do seem to be some people following it! I hope to be able to post more soon.

Part 12: An unexpected event

Tuesday and Wednesday came and went; I began getting used to my routine. I wasn’t humiliated quite as much when I had to ask Joelle for the key to my locked briefcase. I wasn’t as worried about being found out, as not even my closest business friends noticed. Even when Joelle slipped and let it get around the office that I had a medical condition requiring a very highly controlled medication, no one seemed to catch on that there might be something beyond a legitimate medical problem that I was dealing with.

I got more and more accustomed to being at work with wet diapers and was becoming confident in timing my changes so that I wouldn’t be in any change of leaks. Of course, the locking panties themselves were additional protection in themselves. At my second change on Tuesday, though, I grew a little more concerned as I noticed that the leg elastics of the inner panties were a little damp. I vowed to watch my liquid intake more for a while until I could adapt better to my new circumstances.

Things seemed to be going reasonably well until Thursday, when disaster struck. A little after 11:00 am I went to Joelle’s desk to ask her for the key. My heart sank when I saw she was away from her desk. I waited for a little while, figuring maybe she’d stepped out to the ladies room or was on some other minor office errand. Figuring I had a little more leeway before I’d start to leak, I went back to my own desk. By 11:30 I was getting very concerned and returned to her desk. She still wasn’t there! I asked Jane Keppler in the next cubicle if she knew where Joelle was.

I felt myself go limp when Jane said, “Oh, Joelle was called to a meeting over at the director’s office. She won’t be back until mid-afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?”

Not that I would dare try to interrupt a meeting with the director, but his office was in another building cross-town and I had no good reason (other than my now very wet diapers) to even think about this. I tried to regain a little composure and asked, “She didn’t perhaps leave you something for me, did she? She had a key of mine and I was hoping to get it from her this morning.”

“Sorry, Peter, I don’t know anything about it. You know the office policy on going into anyone’s desk – I’d have to report you even though it sounds pretty legit to me. Look around on top of her desk though, maybe she left it there.”

Jane was trying to be helpful, but I knew full well that Joelle kept the key to my panties in her pocketbook. I was sure that she had just forgotten all about the key when she was called to the meeting. Still, I made a show of looking on top of her desk. I thanked Jane and slunk back to my desk.

As I sat down, my bladder gave way yet again and, as good as the Bambino’s had been, I knew they were about to surrender! Even having watched my intake of fluids, my bladder began to betray me and I could feel a little more urine escape into my diaper. I stood up and pretended to look for something in my files. My hope was that the pee would find one last dry spot in the Bambino before leaking.

After sitting down again, I could feel dampness creep out into the diaper panties. Maybe they would hold. Maybe Joelle would come back early from her meeting. Maybe…

Just then the phone rang. As I rocked in my chair to reach for it, I could feel a wet spot on the back of my pants. My heart sank. I was in a total fog as I answered the phone. It was Joelle.

“Peter, I’m so sorry! I forgot all about your medication. I’ve got your key. Are you going to be OK? I’ll be back in the office around 3. Will that be OK?”

I was almost in tears, but held on enough to say, “It’s not your fault. It isn’t the skin condition at all, but I’m just not feeling well. I’m a little sick to my stomach and think I’ll be heading home anyway. You just hold the key for tomorrow. There’s another key at home. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I can ask if someone here is going back over to our office. I feel so bad,” she said.

“No. I really am just going to go home. I’ve got sick time and I can log onto my computer from home and do a little work on my project if I’m feeling better. I’m just grateful that you’re willing to help me out by holding the key. I’ll have to talk with my doctor about this, though. Doesn’t it seem a little crazy to you that I need someone else to hold the key?” I said.

“But I am just so, so sorry, Peter. If this ever comes up again, I’ll be sure to give you the key before I have to leave. I know you’ve said the doctor is really concerned about you using the cream too often, but I can’t leave you in a bind like this. I’m so sorry.”

After gathering all my intestinal fortitude to assure her it was OK, we finished our conversation and I carefully packed up my things. Thankfully my coat rode down at least almost to the now twin smiles on the back of my pants. Since my pants were navy blue, I was hoping the wet spots wouldn’t be too noticeable. I went to my boss and explained I wasn’t feeling well and was going home. By that time, I really wasn’t feeling well and I’m sure I looked quite pale and pasty! He gave me his best wishes and told me to feel better.

I slinked carefully away out through the outer offices trying not to attract attention, yet to walk in a way that no one would notice my pants. In the elevator, I was fairly certain no one would notice my pants; what I worried about was whether there might be even a faint odor of urine. I didn’t smell it myself, but I was well aware that I was quickly becoming accustomed to being in urine soaked clothing.

I almost fainted when just as we got to the ground floor, someone I’d never seen before said, “Don’t you think they’d clean these elevators a little better! I don’t know what that odor is, but I’ve been noticing more and more that these elevators smell.” Was he smelling me or did the elevators just need cleaning? I wasn’t about to begin that conversation! Instead, when the doors opened onto the lobby, I quickly strode out of the building toward the parking garage.

When I got to my car, I carefully retrieved a couple of plastic shopping bags from the floor of the back seat and spread them out trying to protect the fabric of my car seats. As I drove home, I tried to think of what I could do. Certainly I could take off my shirt, tie and pants, but I couldn’t change my diaper. Amy wouldn’t be home for another couple hours and I had no idea where she kept the other key to my panties. Besides, I’d be in huge trouble if I even thought about removing those panties on my own. As it was, I had no idea how much trouble I might be in. What would Amy’s reaction be?

When I arrived home, the silence of the house was almost deafening. I hadn’t been alone in my own home since before this all started; before Amy found out about my diaper secret. I was already so intimidated by her and the way she and Jill had been treating me that I was almost afraid to be home alone. I weakly called out to her as if wishing her to be home would make it be so. I warily crept from room to room calling out, “Amy, are you here? I’m home.”

I wasn’t sure what I should do; I knew this was wrong and that Amy was going to be angry, but I couldn’t stay at the office. My mind raced, trying to think of a solution to my problem. Maybe I could change my clothes and go out until the time I’d normally get home. But then my diaper was leaking and would wet my new clothes. Maybe I could put on another pair of plastic panties lined with paper towels or something. That might work. But it would be pretty obvious that I’d changed my clothes and I might be even more trouble for that. No, my best bet would be to stay here and throw myself on Amy’s mercy when she got home. I should do what I could do to show her I’d tried to do the right thing. I went to my nursery and took off everything but my diaper and panties, which of course I couldn’t remove.

Thankfully my suit pants, which were now quite wet, were washable. I thought about putting them in the washing machine; after all, I’d been put in charge of doing all the wash now. Maybe being proactive would be a good thing. I gathered up a load of dark clothes and added my wet suit pants to the washing machine and started the load.

I made myself busy around the house, cleaning up the kitchen a little, straightening up things in Amy’s bedroom and in my nursery as much as I could. I wanted to do the right thing; I wanted to please Amy. Or was it that I wanted to avoid a punishment I thought I might be receiving at her hand? Did it matter? As this went through my mind, I thought more about the fact that our bedroom had become Amy’s bedroom and I was now relegated to a nursery. I’d been forced to leave work because I’d wet my diaper so much that people would have inevitably noticed my wet suit pants.

Yes, I used to enjoy wearing and using diapers, but this had become so different. Ever since that Saturday morning only a week and a half ago, things had spun so wildly out of control. I was literally losing control of everything in my life. Wearing diapers had been a recreation; an escape. There was a part of it that I did actually to boost my feeling of being in control; it was something I’d decided to do and did it in spite of what others might think if they’d known. I did it without Amy knowing or approving.

I began feeling depressed and angry. I resented everything that Amy and Jill had done to me. The acceptance I’d been feeling melted away in the embarrassment of having a diaper leak at work. What I’d begun to consider acceptable suddenly felt outrageous. I looked at my chest, my arms and my legs and could only think back to the hair that had been shorn from me. It wasn’t that I’d ever really liked being as hairy as I was; it was that it was a mark of adulthood which had been stripped away from me. I felt the heavy wetness of my diaper and wondered why I’d ever thought wearing a diaper, let alone wetting it like a little baby, was something I’d want to do. By the time I heard Amy’s car pulling into the garage, I was seething. I was so upset I’d forgotten to think of what her reaction to this situation might be.

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Part 13: A Changed Attitude and a Sad Resolution

The door from the garage hadn’t fully swung open when I heard “Just what is going on here? What are you doing home? Who do you think you are? You are in very, very deep trouble, little boy!”

Amy’s eyes were wide with rage but I’m sure mine were a fair match. “Amy, this is it. I’ve had it. I’m not playing your game anymore. I want the key now. If you won’t give me the key, I’ll go down to my workshop and cut the chain. Either things…”

Amy’s rage stopped suddenly as if flung back by my response. For just a moment, I felt smug. I felt like I’d made an impression and that Amy was going to come around. Instead, she moved to a cabinet drawer, opened it and found the stun gun. In a very calm, but stern voice she announced, “Oh, little diaperpt, I think you’ve forgotten just a few details of your situation. I don’t know where all this false bravado is coming from, but you need to let it go fast.”

My rage would not be denied however. “Amy, I’m not going to take any more of this. I’m not afraid of that stupid stun gun. I’m stronger than you and I’m not going to let you use it on me. I’m not going to wear diapers for you and I’m not going to pretend to be your little boy. I’m a grown man. I’m an adult. I know you were upset and hurt when you found out I’d worn diapers before, but this can’t make up for it. I’m done! Do you understand?” I was practically shouting by the time I finished saying this.

Amy quietly approached me, softening her look and letting the stun gun fall to her side. “Oh Peter, I don’t think you understand. I know this has been hard for you…”

As she continued to talk I made the mistake of looking into her eyes. I honestly thought she was softening her position. Instead I felt the stun gun at the flesh of my side and instantaneously I felt a strong jolt which left me cringing in agony on the floor. She leaned over me, smiled, and jolted me again on the other side of my body. Before the pain had faded, she made contact with my right thigh and let me have it yet again.

I screamed in pain and in tears cried out, “Please, please stop! Please!”

The stun gun made contact with my left thigh and I winced in anticipation of another shock. Amy looked at me and smiled, “Do you want more or are you done for now? How many reminders do you need to remember who is in charge here?”

Sobbing, I blubbered out, “No. No more. Please.”

“OK, you bad little boy, but don’t tempt me. You’re in big trouble so don’t make it any worse. Let’s get you up to your nursery.”

I still fumed. My anger had been blunted by the painful shocks I’d received, but it hadn’t fully left me. Rather, fearing further shocks, I gathered myself enough to stand. I walked, or more accurately stumbled and limped, hunched over from the pain inflicted on me. I was as angry with myself as I was at Amy because I’d allowed myself to be hit by the stun gun. Even as angry as I was, I was resigned. As long as she held the stun gun, she would be in control and I would be forced to do as I was told.

In my nursery, Amy directed me onto the changing table where she quickly reached into a drawer and brought out the wrist and ankle restraints which hadn’t been used since the first days of my captivity. Soon I was secured tightly to the table.

“First things first,” said Amy. “I see you are very wet. I don’t know yet what happened, but you’ll have a chance to let Mommy know. For now, I’m going to change your wet diaper.”

She left me for a moment to get the key to the locking panties, then returned to remove them and my dripping wet diapers. She cleaned me up with wipes, and soon I was re-diapered. As angry as I still was, I was happy to be in dry diapers, although at that point I’d never have told her that. While Amy had released one ankle at a time to remove my plastic panties, I was now firmly restrained to the changing table.

“OK. Now tell me what happened at work, why you were home early and why you are so upset.”

I sputtered, I was so mad. “I’m upset because I’m a grown man who has allowed himself to be whipped around by his wife. I’d put up with this at first because I figured you’d come around and let this silliness go. I’m upset because I have been kept in diapers like a helpless little child or a doddering old man. I’m upset because I haven’t even been able to go to the bathroom and pee when I need to. I’m upset and I’m not going to play your games anymore!”

Amy smiled a firm motherly smile and calmly replied, “Oh but these aren’t my games. This is your fantasy, Peter. You wanted to be in diapers. We’ve established that. The diapers weren’t my idea; they were yours! Have you forgotten all this? We’ll deal with that in a moment, but now I want you to answer the questions I asked you, not to rant on with your foolishness about not playing my games! What happened at work? Why were you home early? I guess I shouldn’t even bother asking why you’re upset.”

I simply glared at her. She reached to pick up the stun gun. “It might not be very sporting of me to use this on you again since you are pretty much secure on this table and if you won’t tell me, it won’t really matter in the long run. I’m trying to be nice to you and understand what happened. Unfortunately, you are making me very angry with you, so tell me what happened or I will be very tempted to use the stun gun some more.”

Angrily, I spit out, “Joelle had to go to a meeting at the director’s office and she wasn’t there when I needed the key. I tried to wait it out, but I ended up leaking and my suit pants got wet. I told my boss I was sick; believe me, I really felt sick! I’m surprised no one noticed my wet pants as it was. I got home and put a load of wash in with my suit pants. I tried to straighten stuff up, but I was so wet and uncomfortable that I started thinking about how absolutely ridiculous this whole situation is. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t!”

Amy looked at me soothingly and said, “My poor little boy. I’m so sorry for you. That must have frightened you. Next time something like that happens you have to call either Auntie Jill or me for help. You aren’t allowed just to come home on your own like that. After all, you’ve proven yourself to be a bad little boy at times and even when you’re good, you’re just too little to be home alone.”

“Stop, Amy! Stop it now! Stop with the little boy stuff. I’ve had it. I want to be let up and out of these diapers. I want to stop wearing them at all. I’m an adult and don’t need or want to wear diapers. I’ve had it with this treatment. That’s it.”

Even as the words came out of my mouth I could see that I was making no headway with Amy. “Oh diaperpt, you’re so cute lying there in your little diapers and plastic panties. They really were your idea and I don’t believe you at all that you don’t want them. And frankly, Jill and I have been noticing more and more that you do seem to need them. Regardless, you seem to be forgetting the arrangement we had right from the outset. If you really, really, really want me to let you go your own way I will. I will also release the video and pictures Jill and I have of you. We will let your boss know. We will let your friends and all your family know. I will begin divorce proceedings faster than your head can spin and I’ll take you for every penny you have and every penny you might have earned in the future if you can find someone who will hire a panty wearing diaper lover.”

“Let’s go downstairs. I’m going to let you look at the pictures and video I have. Maybe that will help you remember your place. But I don’t want any trouble from you. Do you understand? And I’ve heard enough of your whining for one day.”

Before releasing me, she reached into a drawer and brought out a strap with what looked like a whiffle golf ball attached to the middle of it. It’s a little plastic ball full of little holes and is used for golf practice. She forced the ball into my mouth and fastened the strap around my head tightly. The ball was very uncomfortable in my mouth and when I tried to say something, I couldn’t do anything but make grunting noises. Immediately I realized this gag made me drool into the holes and I could feel it filling with my saliva. Next, as my restraints were released from the table they were re-applied so my hands were bound tightly and my legs were hobbled so I could make only tiny steps.

With double thick cloth diapers, it was a struggle even to waddle to the stairs where Amy suggested I sit and bounce down the stairs a step at a time. I complained into the gag but since Amy had the stun gun in her hand, I reluctantly bounced down the steps, humiliated yet again. She directed me in the office and sat me in one chair while she sat in another in front of the computer. Soon she was displaying a slide show of pictures. There I was standing in the shower with the enema hose leading up through very thick diapers. There I was seemingly showing off the arching brown signs of a diaper full of my own poop. There I was in a pose wearing “my pretty sissy panties.” There I was in a bubble bath shaving hair from my legs and another picture shaving my chest. Picture after picture. Frame after frame of me in diapers, plastic pants.

I wanted to tell Amy to stop. I wanted to tell her how unfair this was. It wasn’t my choice to have these pictures taken and it wasn’t at all my idea. I had dreaded each picture taken and yet they all made me look like I was enjoying myself. All I could do was mumble into the gag…and drool. By this time, the effects of the ball gag in my mouth had caused almost a steady flow of saliva through the holes and down from my mouth.

The only effect of my mumbling was that Amy got up to go to the kitchen for a bib. When I got up from the chair and started to follow, she slapped my face and said, “Sit down, little boy! I didn’t tell you to get up. Sit and watch the nice slide show of you in your diapers. Look at them so you know exactly what it is that your boss, your friends and your family are going to see if you can’t remember to be good.”

She pushed me back into the chair and reworked the restraints so that I no longer could get up from the chair. She started the slide show from the beginning and said, “Don’t make this any worse for yourself, little boy. I’m going to do you a favor and get a bib for you so you aren’t drooling all down your front. You’re a bad little boy that only a mommy could love and I’m trying my best to do the right thing for you. Now your eyes had better be fixed on that computer screen when I return.”

My anger had only increased and I stared at the pictures, not to obey Amy, but to fuel and focus my anger. I wasn’t sure how I could change this situation, but I knew when I did, I’d make Amy and her sister sorry they’d ever thought about doing this to me.

The pictures went on and on; diaper, plastic pants, and onesies; me in the crib, on the changing table, in the highchair, and in the bath; dry diapers, wet diapers, and poopy diapers; sissy panties dry and wet. There wasn’t an event that had transpired that wasn’t caught on camera. When the long slide show was over, I was made to sit through several video sequences; again in every imaginable setting – except anything showing me as the adult man that I am. I was embarrassed; I was humiliated; but I was also furious. I’d thought that Amy’s goal was to convince me to cooperate for fear that she’d reveal these pictures. Instead, I’d only gotten more and more angry; more and more intent on being released from the prison of the intimidation Amy and Jill had me locked in.

When it was all done, Amy said, “OK, little boy. You’ve now seen what the world will see if you don’t cooperate. Do you want me to show you some of the pictures and videos I’ve already posted on some of your favorite websites? You’ve gotten a LOT of nice comments on DailyDiapers! Isn’t that nice?”

“Mmmphhh” was all I could say as more drool dripped from my chin onto my very wet bib.

“OK, I can see that you are a very angry little boy right now, so you aren’t going to get any supper. Instead, I’m going to put you into your crib for the night. Maybe a good night’s sleep will do you some good.”

She seemed almost lax as she began to rearrange my wrist restraints and as she released them from the chair, all the pent up aggression I was feeling burst out way ahead of any reason or common sense I might have had. I went to push away at Amy, trying to knock her to the floor. I was so enraged, I wasn’t even able to coordinate my physical efforts, however. I did manage to knock her to the floor, but before I could successfully free my legs I’d been zapped twice with the stun gun and had fallen over onto the floor in a quivering mass of pain. The chair came with me and was now lying on top of me. My ankles hurt from where they’d been twisted as I’d fallen out of the chair and then the chair onto me. My sides burned from where I’d been shocked again right where I’d been hit by the stun gun not that long ago.

Before I could react, Amy had re-attached my wrist restraints tightly behind my back. Temporarily she left my ankle restraints secured to the chair so that I was in no position to get up from the floor even if the pain from the stun gun’s work had allowed me. She again went to the kitchen and came back to place a leather collar around my neck. My legs were released from the chair, but the restraints were fastened even closer than they had been before.

A chain was attached to the collar as Amy said, “OK, bad little boy. You’ll see what Auntie Jilly and I have had done in our cellar. You see, we sort of expected this sort of thing to happen and it will probably happen again. Even good little boys sometimes have bad thoughts and get themselves in trouble. We love you enough so that we’re seeing to it that we can keep you under our control and correct those bad boy thoughts of yours. Now CRAWL! We’re going to the cellar!”

My legs were bound so closely that each movement pulled on my already sore ankles. Once I’d made it off the carpet of the office, the hardwood floor of the hallway banged my knees painfully. Amy pulled at the chain at my neck and while it didn’t physically hurt, it was humiliating to feel more like a badly behaved dog than an adult human being. We stopped at the cellar doorway long enough for Amy to pick up the phone and dial a number.

“Jill,” she said. “What are you doing this evening? Nothing? Then how about coming over here. I could use some help with a very bad little baby boy. I’m about ready to introduce him to our special accommodations in the cellar… Yup… Yeah… I guess his diaper leaked at work today and he freaked. He came home early and was here when I got here… I know! We did expect this, didn’t we!... Well, I’m just glad you talked me into the whole idea of the… oh, the stuff in the cellar. I’m about ready to bring him down there now… Oh, OK. I can wait… I don’t think he’s going anywhere fast… Yeah, I’ll give him a bottle for now and then when you get here we’ll take him downstairs together. I’d feel a little more secure dealing with him down there with you around anyway… OK, see you in a bit.”

Hanging up the phone, she said, “OK baby, crawl into the kitchen. Auntie Jilly wants to be here to help show you the cellar.”

As if there were any doubt of me obeying at this point, she jerked sharply on the chain. I almost fell on my face, but recovered and continued the agonizing crawl. While it was only a few more feet into the kitchen my knees felt like raw hamburg.

Amy announced, “I’m going to give you a bottle, but I’m not going to let you use your high chair. You’re just going to have to roll over onto the floor so you can drink it. As it is, I’m not too happy about letting you out of your little drool gag. You’re so cute with all that drool dripping down your chin!”

It grated all the more on me that every time she spoke about something she was doing to me; it had nothing to do with keeping me under her control, as it was, but rather how ‘cute’ something was. I wasn’t feeling at all cute. I wasn’t feeling positive at all about being in diapers right now. My sides ached from the stun gun, my mouth was sore from the gag, my knees burned from crawling on them and somewhere along the lined I’d wet my diapers at least once and felt the cold clammy sensation of stale urine. Even though I was still furious with her, enough sense had returned to me to realize I could only make things worse for myself at this point. It was pretty clear that I wasn’t going to enjoy my upcoming trip to the cellar; whatever was down there was meant as punishment. Whether Amy was worried about controlling me by herself or whether she truly wanted to share the pleasure of punishing me with Jill, I had only the time it would take for Jill to drive over here and for me to finish the bottle I was about to be given.

As much to relieve the pain from my knees, I managed to get myself fully down on the floor and roll over onto my back. Even that much movement wrenched my body with pain, but once on my back it was a minor, but sweet relief. I had little energy left as I accepted the bottle Amy had pulled from the refrigerator. It didn’t occur to me that this bottle had been made up ahead of time for some reason. Rather I let the nipple slip into my mouth, held the bottle in my hands and slowly began nursing on its contents.

I had been careful about drinking anything at the office and now hours later I was very thirsty. I’d been told I wouldn’t be getting any supper, so as reluctant as I was to embrace anything as babyish as drinking from a bottle, I sucked away at it; slowly at first out of embarrassment, then faster out of thirst. I almost hoped that if I finished it before Jill got there, I’d get some more nourishment before a long night. I was nursing on the last of the bottle when I heard the front door open. Soon Jill and Amy were whispering to each other on the other side of the kitchen, glimpsing over at me every so often, with a chuckle here and there. The conversation was obviously private and yet, clearly about what was to come next. I didn’t have to wait long.

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Chapter 14: Into the Cellar and My Next Agony

Jill took the empty bottle from me and pulled on the chain attached to the collar at my neck. “Come on, little boy, time for your next bad boy adventure!”

As I struggled to roll over and get up on my knees again, I sensed there had been something other than fruit juice in that bottle. I felt a strange feeling of being in a dark tunnel. None of the pain I’d experienced had disappeared, but I felt very weak and almost out of my own body. It was hard for me to control my muscles. In a daze, I allowed myself to be guided to the cellar stairs where I was helped onto the stairs in a sitting position. Slowly I slid step to step down the stairs. Halfway down I realized that the right hand side of the cellar had been partitioned off with a heavy duty door leading to it at the foot of the stairs. I didn’t know how or when this work was done, but here it was. And I was about to find out what was behind that door. Amy had been behind me to steady me down the stairs and Jill had been ahead of me to be sure I didn’t fall forward. They both seemed to understand how disoriented I’d become.

At the bottom of the stairs, Jill took a key from her jeans pocket and unlocked the door. I was made to crawl through into this new room. When I lifted my head to look at the contents, I stopped short in panic. While I didn’t have time to take in the full range of equipment, I could tell I was not going to be enjoying my time here. I quickly recognized a classic set of stocks, the upper cross piece open and waiting for its victim’s wrists and neck. There were various benches and stools obviously equipped with eye-bolts waiting for attachment of restraints. I recognized a doctor’s examination table with stirrups sitting in wait of a pair of splayed legs. My eyes bulged at all this and still I was in no position to see the contents of the drawers and shelves off to one side.

Both Jill and Amy giggled at my reaction. Jill pulled on the chain, saying, “Over here first, little boy. This little bench, I think, will fit you just right.”

“That a boy,” she said as she worked my plastic panties down my legs. Before forcing me to lie on top of a padded bench, she also unpinned and removed my wet cloth diapers. She also placed a clean dry diaper over the edge of the bench, which looked very much like an ottoman, except it wasn’t as soft or comfortable. The diaper was held in place by my stomach against the bench and it trailed off the side and onto the floor, presumably to catch any accidents I might have. She and Amy worked quickly and soon my wrists were restrained to each corner of one side of the stool and straps were tightened around my knees, holding my legs firmly to the corners of the other side of the stool. I was basically still kneeling on the floor but with this ottoman underneath me and supporting me.

Even though the top of the bench was somewhat comfortable for now, I sensed this was not going to be a pleasurable experience. And then, WHACK! I felt the stick of Amy’s open hand on my right butt cheek. WHACK! Again.

“Baby boys are not to be home alone.” WHACK! “Baby boys are not to talk back to their Mommy.”

WHACK! Now, my left butt cheek stung and Jill responded. “Baby boys are to behave!” WHACK! “Baby boys have to accept they are going to have accidents and they are NOT…” WHACK! “NOT…” WHACK! “NOT to change their own schedules!”

Amy continued, “If you have a problem at work, you are to call Mommy or Aunty Jill!” WHACK! “Even if you get sick at work…” WHACK! “Even if an accident happens and you need to bring yourself to the hospital…” WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! “You are to call Mommy or Aunty Jill and ask permission!”

Although I was drugged and weakened, I felt the full force of every spank on my bottom. Nothing was lost on me except that as the pain mounted to a level where I began to sob and then bawl, I could no longer make any sense out of the belittling comments made by Amy and Jill as they continued to spank me. When their palms got sore, they moved on to use small paddles, each taking their turn. I’m sure it lasted a lot less time than I imagined, because I had melted into a quivering mass of tears by the time they finished.

“There, there, little boy. Aunty Jill is going to work some nice soothing cream onto your bottom to take the sting away.”

Against my battered and abused burning flesh, the cream seemed almost like ice and at first the contrast was not pleasant at all, but finally some relief began to seep through the pain. At the same time, I felt some cream or something being smoothed into the crack between my cheeks and I winced as a finger slipped into my little hole. Again and then yet again I felt an intrusion into my rear passage and I couldn’t help but wonder why Jill was doing this. What perverted thought was behind this?

I didn’t have time to think this over too much as I was released from the stool and dragged to a low table. I had no fight left in me at this point and allowed myself to be eased up onto the table and a waiting disposable diaper. I was oiled well, powdered and the tapes fastened securely. Amy then picked up a pencil and began poking holes in the disposable with the tip of the pencil. Over and over, she perforated the front and bottom of the diaper. When she was satisfied, she scootched up my bottom and slid a double thick cloth diaper under me. Taking great care to pin it tightly, she then scotched me up once more to place a pair of side snap panties under me.

Once they were secured in place with their tight elastics embracing the skin of my waist and thighs, she announced, “OK, let’s introduce you to Mr. Stocks!”

She and Jill giggled as they each took one of my arms and guided me off the table and over to the ominous piece of equipment which looked to me like its neck hole was smiling an ominous grin as it awaited my arrival. My neck and wrists were guided into position carefully and the top piece then swung over me on its hinge to make a perfect fit. Amy raised the piece slightly and let it slam down noisily for effect before sliding a padlock in place and clicking it shut. Each one of the woman then took turns pulling on a foot, attaching a strap to each ankle and fixing it to an eye bolt in the floor. My neck and arms were now firmly locked into the stocks and my ankles strapped into position so that my feet were a little more than shoulder width apart. The height of the stocks and the position of my feet made it so I was hunched over slightly with my legs at what was only to be a temporarily comfortable position.

Amy then wheeled over one of those pole arrangements you see in hospital rooms, with a large clear bag hanging from it as Jill announced to me, “You and Mr. Stocks are going to be together for a while. I’m sure you are going to enjoy your time together. You’ll be getting thirsty so we’re going to give you something to drink.”

At this Amy forced a large bulb into my mouth and quickly attached a strap around my head holding it firmly in place. The only resistance I could muster up was a sad “Ummppphhh” into the gag. Before I knew it, I sensed liquid filling the bulb and that I could nurse it as I would the nipple of a baby bottle. I was thirsty and hoped I’d find some relief in drinking. My mouth was still sore from the ball gag earlier, so I took my time nursing. I found out soon that even if I didn’t suckle on the bulb there was a slight trickle of liquid into my mouth anyway. The flow was small enough so that an instinctive swallowing reflex prevented me from gagging, yet kept a steady flow into me. I knew that I’d end up peeing in my diaper, but now I felt a twinge inside me. I clenched my bottom in the realization that I might eventually have to poop. There were a few more twinges, but by clenching it seemed to go away. In a short time, I’d begun to focus more on the rest of my misery.

“There you go, diaperpt. You’re set for a while now,” said Amy. “Jill and I are going to go get a glass of wine and sit and watch you for a while. You don’t mind, do you? Are you comfortable? If you are, enjoy it while you can. The idea of this trip down here is to make sure you are NOT comfortable! When you’re done in the stocks, we’re going to move you on to something else for the rest of the night. By morning, I suspect you’ll be at least a little sorry you misbehaved today.”

Amy turned away and I heard the two of them chattering away as the heavy door to this new dungeon room slammed shut. I heard the key in the lock, footsteps on the stairs and the giggling voices of my two captors. Before long, the sounds reversed themselves, the door opened and the two giggling sisters returned to the room. I could only hear their voices slightly as they eased into a sofa positioned behind me. If I craned my neck upward or to the side, I was rewarded only with the sight of more equipment designed and placed here to punish and humiliate me. Since it was uncomfortable both physically and emotionally to do this, I instead stared at the floor beneath me while I sucked on the bulb and swallowed more liquid.

Of course, the intake of liquid caused the expected result and soon I felt my bladder release into my waiting diaper. This was no surprise to me and as humiliated as I was in being punished this way, I certainly had grown accustomed to voiding into a diaper and so I gave it no thought. No thought when I voided again and dribbled still more, but then I began feeling the twinge in my bottom again. Suddenly it came to me; Jill’s finger into my rear. I’d been given the ‘gift’ of one or several suppositories which had begun to do their devilish work on me. Stretched and spread as I was, my attempts at clenching my still very sore butt cheeks would only work so long. So that’s why I was put in a disposable which was then perforated!

Even as all these thoughts slid into my mind, I felt the inevitable slide of my own poop into the tight confines of the disposable. I felt the rear of the diaper balloon to accept the first delivery of my poop, followed by an involuntary release of more pee. A few minutes later and I felt another push and more poop sliding out of me and fighting for position within my tightly taped diaper.

All of a sudden, the two women behind me caught on and went from quiet giggles in their conversation to outright laughter. “Look at the little baby! He did his little poopy right in his diaper! What a messy little boy he is!” Jill laughed even more at her jibe at me.

I heard the two get out of their seats and approach me. Then through the thickness of my diapers I felt pressure smooshing the mound of poop.

“Look at how much poop the little baby has in there!” Amy said as she worked her hand across my backside. “Oh what a messy baby he is going to be!”

Jill joined in the fun, “Gosh, you’re just being gentle. Let me at the bad little boy!” WHUMP! The thick padding of diapers absorbed most of the hard smack on my backside, but still I felt the poop spread even more. WHUMP! Again, another smack spreading the poop around and making it stick even more to by bottom.

The two of them came around the stocks and Amy put her hand under my chin forcing me to look up into her face. “You are a very dirty, very bad little boy, diaperpt. You need to understand that we aren’t so much punishing you as we are letting you understand the full consequences of your own actions. Do you understand that?”

“Ummpphhh,” was all I could manage. All the anger and rage I’d felt earlier in the day had been beaten out of me. I was weak and tired. The burning pain of my butt cheeks had faded into a dull ache and as long as nothing touched my sides, the pain of the shots from the stun gun had faded. My knees were locked in place, enforced by the stocks and my leg restraints but were still sore from crawling on the hard surface of the floor. I was beaten and sore. I had no energy and whatever was in the liquids I’d been given had left me very aware of my pain and my situation, but at the same time very fuzzy.

“Answer me, little boy! I spoke to you and I expect an answer! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!” Amy released her grip on my chin and from my exhaustion, it fell heavily. “Nod! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!”

I frankly didn’t understand what it was I was supposed to understand. Instead, I just submissively nodded my head up and down.

“Good. Jill and I are going upstairs for our dinner. You stay here and keep Mr. Stocks company. Finish your juice. It’s your second course of your dinner tonight. Later on, we’ll be back down and maybe if you can be good, we’ll clean up that big mess you’ve managed to make in your diaper.”

The two laughed and giggled some more as they squished my diapers even more through the plastic panties.

“He really is pretty wet already isn’t he?” said Jill.

“Yeah. It’s going to mix nicely with all that poop. And I suspect that he’s not done with his backside either. Those suppositories you gave him are going to continue to work for a little more. He may think he’s done, but I think there’s going to be more,” Amy replied.

“Hey, wanna make a little bet on whether he’ll be leaking out of his little plastic panties by the time we get back? I bet he’ll have some cute little brown stains running down his little legs by the time we’re done dinner,” said Jill.

I could sense Amy wrinkling her face as she said, “Eeewwww. No! No bet on that one! Ha! It’s only a matter of how badly he’s leaking! And let’s try not to think about it. I want to enjoy my shrimp scampi! No thoughts of little diaperpt here spilling out his plastic panties! We’ll have that to deal with soon enough!”

“Yeah,” said Amy. “At least you built in the right facilities to deal with all that down here so at least we don’t need to bring him back upstairs for clean-up!”

Their voices faded, the door slammed shut and was locked. I was left to myself to finish the large bag of fluid. I could only imagine how big it was; just from the quick glimpse I had of the bag I judged it had to be well more than two liters. It didn’t matter how much it was, though, I was destined to finish it all whether I wanted to or not. Drinking only temporarily distracted me from the smeared, messy poop clinging to the skin of my backside. I’d barely noticed as I continued a regular dribble of pee into my diaper and I could feel the disposable reaching its capacity. Without my permission, my backside proved Amy right as it delivered even more poop into my already full diaper.

Soon exhaustion began to take over the pain of my body. I tried to let myself slip into a sleep mode, but my position would not allow me. If I relaxed too much, my weight would slip forward onto my neck and the pressure would jerk me awake. Fearing that I’d fall asleep and then strangle myself on the neck hole of the stocks, I fought against sleep. I lost track of time as I struggled to find a balance of keeping myself alert and trying to allow myself some small comfort.

I’d long finished all the liquid I’d been given and it seemed like most of it must have found its way through my bottle and into my diapers. I could feel them sag under the weight of their contents and I was almost afraid they’d slip off my bottom and down my legs. Finally, I sensed the first slight breach of the protection offered by my plastic panties. I’d sensed the dampness at the leg elastics, but now there was the beginning of a small tickle. Was I only imagining a small dribble of urine on my legs or had I begun the leaking that Amy and Jill were apparently waiting for?

Again time dragged on. There were more tickles and I finally realized that the inevitable must be taking place. It seemed like hours past before I heard light footsteps on the stairs and the turn of a key in the lock.

“OH MY GOD! Amy! Look at that filthy little baby! Look what he’s done!”

Amy acted surprised as she said, “I can’t believe the mess my bad little boy has made of himself!”

They came around to the front of the stocks, Amy again lifting my chin with her hand.

“How does this feel, little baby? You thought you leaked a little at the office? You ought to see the mess you’ve made out of your back side! You’ll see it soon enough, but how does it feel? Do you like being messy like this? Do you think a bad little boy like you can clean himself up without Mommy’s help? Hmm?”

Their entrance had jolted me somewhat, but still I was in an exhausted fog. I tried to answer her, but I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. As it was I could only moan into the bulb locked into my mouth.

“Look at me! Look me in the eyes, little baby! Tell Mommy! The next time you leak your diapers at work or anywhere out in public, are you going to try to fix them yourself? Hmmmm?”

I hung my head even lower and shook it from side to side, thinking, “No Mommy. I’ve learned my lesson.”

In my completely exhausted state, I’d fallen back into complete and total obedience. Maybe my anger and resistance had simply slipped back into an internal hiding place or maybe I’d been totally broken. I couldn’t even think about that at this point.

She continued, “When your diapers leak will you call Mommy or Aunty Jill for help?”

I felt my head nod slowly up and down as if without my own control. “Yes, Mommy,” my mind said. “I’ll call you or Aunty Jill and ask for help. I will.”

All the two women could hear was a defeated grunt into the gag, but they knew they’d won this phase of the battle.

“OK, diaperpt, we’re going to get you cleaned up now and ready for the rest of the night. Too bad you won’t be able to sleep in your cribby tonight, but we’ve still got to work on you being a good little boy.”

I sensed little as I was released from the stocks and dragged across the dungeon into a recently created shower room. My arms were attached to an overhead bar. As I was being dragged across the floor and finally when I was put in place in the shower room, I could look down and see the brown trickles caused by the betrayal of my plastic panties. Certainly the little leakage I’d suffered at the office was nothing compared to this. Yes, the leak at work was serious and I’d needed to deal with it, but still I was now being shown what a leak REALLY was! My hazy mind began apologizing to Amy and promising to be better behaved next time.

With my plastic pants and diapers removed, I soon felt a cold blast of water spraying against me. It stung everywhere it hit, but especially where the stun gun had done its damage and on my backsides which had first been beaten and then made to endure the results of a forced bowel movement. As soon as my plastic pants were removed, I’d begun smelling the awful stink of my own poop. That smell, as bad as it was, was no match to the feeling of the poop itself being peeled away from my skin with the strong, cold spray of the hose being coursed over me by Amy. Clumps fell away and landed with a plop on the floor. I could feel little flecks fall away and others joining the flow of clean water down my hairless legs. With my arms stretched above my head, there was little movement possible, but the spray of water forced me to move my feet now and then. As I shifted, I felt myself step in my own poop. It disgusted me and I’m sorry to write about it to you now. Amy said I had to keep this diary, though, and that includes even the least pleasant parts. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you the reader; I’m sorry to Amy, who is only trying to help me be a good little boy; I’m sorry to me for not being better behaved. And now that I’ve said that, I don’t know if I meant it or if it’s the exhaustion and desperation of the moment speaking.

It seemed to take forever, but finally Amy and Jill were satisfied that I was clean. As I’d hung there, I felt myself release my bladder once or twice in small trickles, barely noticing the release. I was in such an exhausted state that I couldn’t tell you what comments Jill and Amy had flung at me about this or anything else. I knew that they’d laughed and giggled as they heaped verbal humiliation on me, but what they said evaporated in the fog of my pain, exhaustion and whatever drugs I’d been given.

I remember vaguely the feeling of soft fluffy towels drying me off and then at some point, I was on the examination table with my legs splayed

and fixed to the stirrups. There were bands across my chest and my hands were strapped to the side of the table. Whether I was too exhausted to even feel anymore or whether the two had dressed by stinging skin, I felt little but the warm, dry comfort of thick cloth diapers. I easily accepted a pacifier strapped into my mouth and had only begun to suck on it as all recognition slipped away from me.

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No I didn't notice that. Thanks for pointing it out. I went back and edited out the duplication.

I'll try to get back on soon and add the next chapter. Thanks for your response. Its hard to tell if anyone is enjoying the story or not with very little reaction posted.

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I'm enjoying this story. I'm kinda shy bout replying to these stories. But this has been a slow descent into awesomeness. Most end to quickly for my taste. Bit this one is very well paced. This story reminds me of Tyler's tribulation. I miss that story. Anyways, keep up the good work. Oh, heh I'm reading this story while I get my car fixed

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Thanks to those who've written comments. I know there are many who do read the stories posted here but never write comments. I want to let you know that from the perspective of one who writes from time to time, just writing even a short comment means a lot. Here's the next chapter. I've got one more already written, which I'll post next week hopefully. I'm not sure when I'll get a chance to write more, but there is at least a little more coming. I think you can see where the story is going, but I do want to take some time to play it out.

Chapter 15: A Busy Friday

As I began to wake, I noticed a tiny, but bright sliver of light shining in the one cellar window of this dungeon. Fuzzy recollection of the events of the previous evening crawled into my consciousness even as stiffness in my body reminded me of my physical agony. All this and on top of that, there was the feeling of cool, clammy cloth underneath the embrace of my diaper panties. I’d wet not once, but apparently several times overnight. I tried to move my stiff and sore limbs, but I was still strapped tightly to the exam table. My only comfort could be found in sucking on the pacifier strapped in my mouth. I could only wiggle my fingers and toes, and move my head from side to side. Looking around the room in the early morning light, I got to look at the stocks, bench and other apparatus around the room. Nothing had been spared in equipping this room and I could only wonder what was in store for me today.

My stomach rumbled, begging for food. A dull ache where the stun gun had visited reminded me that I ought to try to behave today. I found myself looking forward to being changed. Clean dry diapers would feel so good! And yet, I had no idea if my ‘punishment’ was over. I wished that one of the women would come down here.

Wait. This was Friday. I had to go to work. I had an important meeting scheduled. I began worrying about whether I’d be let up or kept here. What time was it? I could tell from the angle of the sun that it was still early, but unless I started getting ready, I’d never make work on time.

A fear began creeping over me. Had both Jill and Amy gone to work already? Had they forgotten me? No, that wasn’t possible, but had they simply left me here? They wouldn’t do that, would they? I began to worry more and more. I was, after all, at their mercy. Wouldn’t Jill have gone home last night? Didn’t she have to work today? My mind raced. Panic began to spread wildly when suddenly I heard movement upstairs above me. I began to relax a little. No, I hadn’t been forgotten. What time was it anyway? Maybe I’d still be allowed up to go to work.

I lay there seemingly forever, before I heard movement on the stairs and then the door opening. I turned my head to see Jill enter the room with a bowl of something steaming in one hand and a baby bottle in the other.

She smiled at me as she set everything down on a counter next to the table where I was tightly strapped. “Good morning, diaperpt. Did you sleep well? I hope you got some sleep, since you’ve got a busy day ahead of you. I hope you enjoy what I’ve got planned for you.”

As she spoke, she released my ankles from the stirrups and slid them back into the table. I decided not to fight whatever I was to face today, deciding that unless I took whatever they decided to dish out, I could only make things worse. I let my ankles fall limp at the bottom of the exam table. Soon, Amy had somehow fastened them again with some sort of Velcro straps. Next, she went to the head of the table and was lifting it up, forcing me into somewhat of a sitting position yet still tightly strapped in.

“There you go,” Jill said as she then reached into a drawer and took out a big bib. “I’m going to feed you your breakfast, then we’ll get you cleaned up and ready for your day.”

As she took the pacifier out of my mouth, I risked a question. “Auntie Jill, where is Mommy? I have to go to work today. I have to be there by 9:00 o’clock.”

“Oh silly little baby! You aren’t going to work today! Your Mommy already called to tell them you still weren’t feeling well from yesterday and that hopefully you’d make it back in on Monday.”

My heart sank! I couldn’t miss work like this. If I did, I might lose my job. “But, Aunty Jill…” I began.

“Don’t worry your cute little head, baby. Mommy has gone to work, but I’m going to stay here with you today and babysit. You’re going to have plenty to do around here today, but let’s get you your breakfast now. Open your mouth.”

Starving as I was and without any recourse, I opened my mouth as Jill fed me sweet tasting oatmeal. Spoon after spoon went in until I was offered my baby bottle. It tasted like slightly warm milk. After drinking some from my bottle, I was given more oatmeal and still more. My stomach was feeling very full and yet Jill kept feeding me more. Finally the bowl was empty and I was fed the rest of the bottle.

With my breakfast out of the way, Jill dropped the head of the table down, replaced my feet in the stirrups and gently changed my diapers. I felt a very thick disposable under me and it felt wonderful. She put more soothing cream on the sore places on my bottom where I’d pooped and also where I’d been hit with the stun gun. Her fingers smoothed the cream and rubbed it gently and I began to feel this wasn’t going to be so bad today after all. I continued with that thought as she finished applying baby oil, rubbing it gently all over my diaper area. It felt so good.

It felt good until I sensed Jill spreading my cheeks to allow an intrusion into my rear. Once, twice, then something else that seemed to fill me inside. “Aunty Jill and Mommy need you to realize that sometimes accidents will happen. Your oatmeal was filled with extra fiber and a good dose of Metamucil as well. Your milk had more bulk added as well. Now, with two Dulcolax, you’re going to be needing your diapers for more than just pee today. Don’t worry, though, the tampon is going to hold it all in for a while and if you begin to feel the need to poop, I want you to hold it anyway. I’ll let you know when you’re allowed to let it out. Do you understand?”

“But…” I started to say. Quickly I caught myself and said instead, “Yes, Aunty Jill. I understand.”

“What is it you understand, diaperpt? Tell Aunty Jill,” she said calmly.

“I’ve got to hold my poop in until you tell me. Right, Aunty Jill?” I responded.

“Yes, little boy. You tell Aunty Jill when that poop wants to come out, OK?”

“OK, Aunty Jill,” I said meekly.

I was no longer looking forward to this morning, whatever else was to take place. At least for now, I was in a clean, dry diaper. I decided to enjoy the feeling while it lasted. I’d have to learn to take small pleasures in my life if this treatment was to continue. There would be plenty of time to feel miserable and if I were going to survive the humiliation and embarrassment, I’d have to adjust my way of thinking.

As I felt the tapes pulling my diaper closed, I tried to think how I used to love that feeling before my secret had been revealed. As my snap-on panties were slid underneath me and I could hear the snap, snap and feel the gently embrace of the elastic waist and legs, I tried to think of how I’d lived for that feeling seemingly so long ago. I tried. I tried to make it work and yet as I suddenly felt pressure in my backside, I remembered that this was not my idea as it had once been. I was being forced into this.

But wait, I thought. If I had once enjoyed it and had even fantasized about being forced into diapers, what would happen if I actually allowed myself to enjoy it? How many times had I posted on Daily Diapers that I wouldn’t mind wearing diapers 24/7? What of my posts about wanting to poop in my diapers and feeling the squish of it at my backsides? No, I reasoned. This was different. I didn’t really want this. How could I? This was so different from what I’d read about and posted on Daily Diapers.

I kept thinking and arguing with myself about all this as Jill finished putting on my locking mittens, then released me enough to slide my locking panties up my legs and over the diaper. The snap of the locks on this equipment one by one snapped me back to reality. Whether I enjoyed it or not, I was diapered and had already felt a warm involuntary release from my penis into the waiting diaper. I felt the tampon within holding tight against the inevitable release back there as I also worked to hold tight against the occasional cramp. If I was going to make it through today, whatever it held, I’d have to stop thinking about whether I enjoyed things or not and just work at behaving myself and following directions.

Jill had released me from the table after fitting somewhat loose restraints at my wrists and ankles. Still, she had to help me into a sitting position and let me rest as a woozy sensation passed. That moment passed and I was allowed to drink from my baby bottle for a moment. Jill eased me off the table onto stiff and shaky legs. Gradually I felt steadier and was led out of the dungeon to the stairs.

“I think I’d better just crawl up the stairs, Aunty Jill, OK?” I said. I still wasn’t feeling very strong and was actually afraid of falling.

“OK, baby. That’s what babies do, right? Babies wear diapers, pee and poop themselves and they crawl,” Jill taunted.

Each step was agony as my knees ground into the stairs. With the loose restraints I had to be a little careful not to get tangled or trip on the chains. It took me a while, but finally we were upstairs and into the hallway where Jill eased me into a standing position.

“We’re going to do some of your weekend chores today to get a head start on them. First you are going to dust everything and later we’ll vacuum and probably mop some floors. Don’t forget to tell me when you feel a poop coming. And DON’T let it out until I tell you it’s OK! Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aunty Jill.”

With every step I took, I could feel the tampon within me. Every once in a while, I’d feel some pressure inside as the suppositories did their job and I’d squeeze tightly. I didn’t want to tell Jill until the least possible moment. I’m not sure why, but I figured if I did it would just sound like complaining and I’d be in trouble.

As I dusted each room, I could feel impending disaster. I kept trying to hold everything together, but it was a struggle. I could feel myself having to pee as well, but even though I’d lost almost all urinary control, I wasn’t peeing for some reason. After a long time – I had no idea when I’d started and only saw clocks coincidentally as I moved around the house – I felt I’d better say something to Jill.

“Aunty Jill. I think I have to poop soon,” I whispered.

“What was that, baby? You have to poop? Can you hold it for a little more for Aunty Jill? I’m sure you can. Just hold a little bit more. Try to be a big boy,” she said in as demeaning a tone as she could.

I nodded and tried to focus on dusting. She supervised and kept me working. All of a sudden though, she found lots of low surfaces for me to dust and re-dust so that I had to bend over a lot. Each time I bent, I felt the pressure grow and imagined the tampon beginning to slip.

“Aunty Jill, I need to poop now. I don’t think I can wait any more,” I pleaded. I even sounded whiny to myself.

“You can’t hold your poop anymore, little boy? I guess you’re just a hopeless baby, aren’t you? Well, look at you. You’ve got nice thick diapers and nice plastic panties. If you just can’t hold it in anymore, little baby, I guess you’ll have to let it go. We do have to finish some more chores before I can possibly stop to change you, but if you’ve got to poop I guess you’d better do it.” She just frowned at me and shook her head to reinforce what she’d been saying about me being a hopeless baby.

I knew better, but at the same time couldn’t help myself. I tried to hold it in for a while longer, but a sudden cramp bent me at the waist and I found myself pushing.

“There you go little baby. Let it come out. Push your poop out into your little diaper,” came the taunt.

I burned a little with shame, but my focus was on my bottom as I felt the tampon slide out mixed with warm, wet poop. The back of my diaper billowed and I felt the squishy mess press against my skin as it spread. Simultaneously, a flood of pee, apparently kept at bay as I held my poop, flooded my diaper as well. Once the initial onslaught stopped, I straightened up only smooshing the poop around more.

To add insult, Jill reached over and smacked my bottom squishing things ever more. “Quite a bit of poop there, little boy! Well, let’s get back to work.”

As I continued to dust, I felt a little more poop slide into my diaper. I wet more as well and it all mixed as I continued to dust. I was given a break now and then to suckle from my baby bottle and the rest of the time I was allowed to suck on my pacifier – one not strapped in. At this point I actually enjoyed my pacifier as it soothed me and took my mind of the feeling and smell of my backside.

Finally, the dusting was done and Jill took me to my nursery – not the dungeon – and cleaned me up. Once in a fresh diaper, she said it was time for lunch. It felt like a treat to be allowed into my high-chair in the kitchen rather than be returned to the dungeon. With my locked mittens still in place, Jill had to feed me. This was the least of my concerns. It felt so good to be out of the dungeon and now in a clean dry diaper.

My lunch was pureed leftovers and although the consistency was horrible, it had a slight taste of adult food. I was allowed to alternate a baby bottle of juice with the heaping spoonfuls of mush Jill gave me. By the time I was done, my bib was quite messy from spills and Jill used a wet baby washcloth to wipe my face.

I was then led to my nursery again and even though I was strapped into my crib securely, I at least was in my own nursery! Jill even placed a stuffed bear up against my face before clanking the crib shut and locked. I sucked on my pacifier and felt the softness of the bear on my face as I slipped off to sleep. This was better than the dungeon, for sure!

When I woke, Jill came in immediately. On checking my diaper, she found it wet, but decided I could last for a little while. She got me up and had me begin vacuuming. Again, I was allowed bottle breaks and after a couple diaper checks, I was changed into clean diapers. I’d finished mopping the kitchen floor and only had the bathrooms to do when I heard the door to the garage. Amy was home.

“How’s the little one, Jill?” Amy said, looking past me to her sister as if I didn’t even exist.

“Oh, he’s been quite cooperative so far. I think he’s getting the message. And he’s almost done with his chores for the day,” she smiled.

Again looking right past me, Amy asked, “How did he enjoy his little movement this morning?”

Jill responded, “Oh, I don’t think he really liked it, but still he was good about it. I had him work in his dirty diaper for about an hour before I cleaned him up. I could tell he didn’t enjoy it, but he took it like – well, like a little baby who has no choice!”

They both laughed as I just hung my head and sucked on my pacifier. She was right. I had no choice. I’d been forced into all this. Still, I was gradually getting to a point where I was deciding to let it happen and take pleasure out of the small things. Even though I didn’t like everything I was given to eat, I wasn’t starving. I had been punished – and punished severely – but it was because I’d resisted. If I went along with things, maybe I could have avoided these punishments and maybe if I cooperated better, could avoid punishment in the future. When I was good, I was allowed to sleep almost as much as I wanted. I was forced into diapers, and now even forced to do #2 in them, but I was eventually cleaned up and put into fresh dry diapers. I’d even been made to wear diapers to work, but Amy and Jill seemed as anxious as I was to keep all of this a secret from others.

My biggest mistakes came from trying to maintain control over the situation. If I gave in to the control they had over me because of the pictures and video – not to mention the stun gun and all their other manipulations over me – it might be OK. And maybe, just maybe, they’d tire of the game themselves and give me back my freedom. Well, I wondered about that last little bit, but who was to know? It might happen.

Amy went off to get herself and Jill a glass of wine and I was ‘allowed’ to finish my chores. Amy and Jill enjoyed a nice dinner of stuffed flounder and a green salad while I had my mittens removed to allow me to eat little squares of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My bottle was filled and then refilled with warm milk. It wasn’t great, but it filled my stomach and I’d been allowed solid food. AND I’d been allowed to feed myself. This was only a small victory, but still, it did feel like one.

After dinner, Amy bathed me, shaved off remnants of hair re-growth here and there on my body, dusted me with baby powder and diapered me in triple thick night-time cloth diapers. I winced when I saw her bring out the hobble sleeper I hadn’t worn in such a long time.

“OK, baby. In you go. It’s either this and sleep in your cribby or we take you down to the dungeon again. Do you want to go to your dungeon or do you want your little sleeper? Hmmm? Tell me what you want little boy,” Amy asked.

I hesitated to answer at all, not wanting to be put into the hobble sleeper. Still I knew I had to answer.

“Mommy, please put me in my sleeper. I don’t want to go to the dungeon. I want to sleep in my crib.”

Here I was, actually asking to be put in my sleeper and into my crib. Not only that, but as the words slipped out of my lips, I knew that I meant them. Of course, it was only given the options I had, but still with all my heart and soul, I wanted to be put into that sleeper and allowed into my locking crib!

Soon, I’d gotten my wish and given a night-time bottle, was slipping off to sleep. My movement was restricted, but still it was so much better than last night in the dungeon! What would the weekend bring? And more, what would Monday bring?

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I'm hoping that I can write some more early next week. There is more story coming, but I've got to find some time to write. I hope you enjoy this part.

Chapter 16: Saturday morning – tricks or treat? A time of confusion

I woke slowly feeling the restriction yet warmth of the hobble sleeper. The crinkle of the plastic sheet beneath me and the soft clang of the crib bars were almost a comfort to me. At some point in the night, I was given my pacifier and I soothed myself on it now, as I realized how wet my night-time diapers were. The rustle of my plastic panties reassured me that even if I’d leaked a little, it couldn’t have been very much. At least I couldn’t detect any tell-tale dampness on the leg bands of my panties. I rolled onto my back and looked up at the locking bars of the top of my crib. Wasn’t this better than looking around the dungeon downstairs, only to be reminded of the stocks, spanking benches, paddles, restraints and other apparatus? Of course it was. I wasn’t a fool. Maybe I would rather be treated like an adult and have a say in my life, but given my very limited options, I was waking up feeling very fortunate!

After lying there for a while more, feeling more pee escape of its own volition, Amy came in to let me up. I was released from the hobble sleeper and allowed a onesie before being brought downstairs to breakfast. After a huge bowl of oatmeal and a baby bottle, I was returned to my nursery and put on my changing table. My wet diapers were removed and I was carefully wiped clean.

Amy kept the usual humiliating patter going about me being a wet little boy, needing my diapers, and so on, when she surprised me.

“We’re going to put you into a pair of your sissy panties this morning, diaperpt. We know how much you like them and you just haven’t had a chance to wear any for a while now. Won’t that be fun? What do you think?” she said as she fluffed out a tiny pair of pink Victoria’s Secret second skin satin panties.

“But I don’t think I can hold my pee any more. I think I’ll just wet myself,” I said, barely believing what I was saying.

“Are you saying you can’t hold your pee-pee? Are you saying you can’t even handle your little sissy panties? You need your diapers?”

“It’s not my fault! You’ve made me pee my diapers so much I can’t help it,” I whined.

“Whatever do you mean, I’ve made you pee your diapers?” she replied.

“It’s all the stuff you give me. You make me drink all those bottles and then I’ve got so much in me I can’t help but pee. You don’t let me go to the bathroom anymore. I don’t have any choice. You make me pee in my diapers.”

Amy looked at me like I was crazy and said, “Come on now! You’ve been peeing all your life, now, haven’t you? Doesn’t everyone?”

“Of course, I’ve always peed. That isn’t the point. You’ve made me pee in diapers and now it’s gotten to the point that I’ve begun to lose control,” I said.

“That’s just ridiculous, little boy! You admit that like everyone else in the world you pee. Adults do have control of their pee, right? You don’t see me peeing my panties. You don’t see Jill peeing hers. But you pee in your diapers. I’m not quite sure what you’re telling me now, diaperpt. Are you going to admit to being just an overgrown baby?” She gave me a look that honestly seemed like she didn’t understand, even though I knew better.

“No! I’m not an overgrown baby,” I insisted.

“Well, then here’s your opportunity to prove it! I’m going to let you wear your sissy panties. You won’t need to pee in your diaper! It sounds like that’s what you want.”

“But I can’t stop myself anymore! You’ve made me use diapers so much I’ve got no control,” I pled.

“Come on now. If you’ve really got no control, then you’re going to have to admit to being just an overgrown baby. As for having you wear diapers, Aunty Jill and I have simply allowed you your fantasy. We’ve put you in diapers because that’s what you wanted. Diapers were your idea. Besides, just having diapers on doesn’t make you lose control. That’s within you! Are you telling me you’ve allowed yourself to lose control?”

“No! It isn’t that! It’s just that you’ve made me wear diapers so much I’ve lost control.”

“Oh that’s ridiculous!” she said. “If you aren’t just the little baby you really want to be, you’ll be able to hold your pee-pee for at least a little. If you don’t have control, it’s because you’ve given it up. Now can you hold your pee-pee or not?”

I hesitated, knowing this was a lose-lose answer for me. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I’d end up wetting myself and getting my panties soaked. I’ve been peeing with no control for a while now and I’m not sure I can keep myself from peeing.”

Amy looked at me pitifully and said, “Well, you tell me what to do. Do you want to be in diapers from now on or are you willing at least to try just your sissy panties? It’s up to you. If you want to be in diapers all the time, I guess we’ll have to go that route. I’m willing to let you try your sissy panties that you love so much. If you keep them dry we can try them some more. If you end up wetting them, then diapers it is, I guess.”

She was making it sound like it was my own fault that I’d been losing control of my bladder. I was trying to make it seem like I had no part in it, but as I thought about it I had to admit that simply wearing diapers wouldn’t erode my control. It was the fact that I’d been giving in and allowing myself to pee…wasn’t it? All of a sudden, I wasn’t sure. I was actually beginning to think that maybe sub-consciously I was allowing myself to lose control. Could it be? Was I just giving in to what used to be my fantasy? Was there a part of me that really wanted to give in to Amy and Jill? Had I been fooling myself?

What should I say? Did it even matter? I was so confused about my own motivation now. And yet, it didn’t seem to matter in terms of wearing diapers. I was pretty sure on that score.

It was me that spoke, but the words almost amazed me as I said, “I think I need my diapers. I can’t help it. Please let me wear my diapers. I don’t want to wet all over the place. I don’t like that feeling. Please put me in my diapers.”

Amy looked at me and smiled coyly, “I’m not so sure. I tell you what. Let’s put you into your cute little sissy panties because I love the look of them on you. I want you to wear them with your cute little skirt for just a few minutes, then later we’ll put your diapers on. I want you to try to hold your pee-pee. Let’s see if you can keep your panties dry for…let’s say…an hour. OK?”

“But Mommy,” I said, “I don’t think I can do it. I think I need diapers now all the time. I’m afraid I’ll wet my panties and you’ll punish me. I don’t want you to punish me.”

“My, but it sounds like you really want your diapers! I thought you didn’t want Aunty Jill and I to keep you in diapers. Do you realize how inconsistent you are being?”

I was beginning to feel that I had actually started to become inconsistent in my thoughts. What was it that I did want? I wasn’t sure at that point and I was only getting more confused, but I kept thinking of my punishment in the cellar and I didn’t want to go back anytime soon.

“I’m sorry, Mommy, but I really don’t think I can hold my pee-pee. I don’t want you to punish me if I wet my sissy panties,” I begged.

I sensed clearly that Amy was manipulating me into saying these things and yet I thought maybe I was coming not only to accept, but actually to want to be in diapers. Whether it was her manipulation or my own will, I was losing control of my bladder. I did need my diapers and didn’t want to be punished for wetting when not in them.

Amy looked at me seriously but spoke gently, “OK, little boy, Mommy has made up her mind. I promise I won’t punish you for wetting if you do. But we’re going to put you in your little sissy panties and cute little skirt for fifteen minutes. If you can stay dry, I’m going to let you stay in your panties but put diapers on over them for a whole hour. In return, I want you to promise to try to stay dry. If you feel yourself having to pee in that hour, tell Mommy or Aunty Jill and we’ll even let you use the big person potty. You had us so sure that you wanted to be able to stay out of diapers. We just wanted to help you. Now you’re telling us just the opposite! This will be a little experiment. Let’s just see how it works!”

“I don’t want to pee my panties. I don’t want to pee my panties…” I began.

Amy interrupted my mantra as she slipped the little pink panties over my feet and up my legs. I almost shivered at the silky feeling against my skin. It had always felt so nice to have panties caress my skin and now that I’d been shaved hairless it felt almost better than ever. Still, it felt strange to have my wife be the one to put them on me. Even worse was the very real fear that hung over me and suppressed what otherwise might have been real pleasure. I was worried that I really could not keep myself dry even for the fifteen minutes out of a diaper, let alone the hour Amy wanted.

Not even that fear could suppress the tingling in my body after the panties were drawn up snug around me, followed by the little tennis skirt I used to hide from Amy and the rest of the world. Amy stood me up and directed me to turn slowly so she could see me. She helped me on with a cute top of her own that was too large for her, but almost perfect for me.

“You’re just adorable! Let’s go show Aunty Jill! She’s downstairs watching TV. You aren’t going to wet, are you?” she asked.

“I…I don’t know. I don’t feel anything right now. I’ll try Mommy,” I said, hanging my head a little.

As I walked into the living room, Jill immediately looked up from the TV. “Oh, diaperpt! You are soooo cute! Lift up your little skirt for Aunty Jill. What are you wearing underneath?”

I sensed this was all a set up from the beginning, but I didn’t question it and went along with it all.

I lifted my skirt so Jill could clearly see my panties but knew I was to speak as well. “Mommy said I should wear my pink Victoria Secret second skin satin panties. I’m going to wear them for 15 minutes and try not to wet them. I don’t know if I can do it, Aunty Jill, but Mommy wants me to try. She said I wouldn’t get punished if I can’t but she wanted me to try.”

The words were just flowing out of my mouth and I could barely believe it was me. I was speaking as if all of this – which had at one point been my fantasy – was in fact a dream coming true. What was happening to me? There really was developing inside of me a feeling that somehow all that Jill and Amy had been doing was really something I wanted. I still could touch that part of me that hated what they were doing; the part of me that wanted control; the part of me that wanted to go back to my previous relationship with Amy. But I was getting confused.

While all of this raced through my mind in alternating waves, Jill and Amy had me bend over, walk around the room, sit down, stand up again, pull up my skirt and rub my hands over my panties – front and back. My mental feelings were horribly confused and conflicted and so were my physical feelings. The panties and skirt felt so delicious and I was getting somewhat aroused. One of the strangest things about this was that the thoughts running through my mind were telling me that at least being aroused might keep me from peeing! But then I was worried about staining my panties if I got too aroused. Where was I headed? What was I thinking! Was this really me?

Amy pulled me out of this mental morass as she announced, “OK, baby, it’s been fifteen minutes! Pull up your skirt and let us see your little panties!”

I sensed that I was dry, but was still hesitant to find out the truth. Slowly I drew up the skirt and looked down eagerly to see for myself, as if I weren’t even in my own body.

Amy reached down and felt between my legs. I was still somewhat erect and I twitched as she touched me. Again, I began to worry that I would wet my panties with pre-cum!

Thankfully, instead, she announced, “Good boy! You are completely dry! Would you like to try for a little longer?”

Suddenly I fell into an almost instant panic. “NO!” I said. I calmed and continued, “I mean, I don’t think I should. I mean I’m not sure I can hold it. I don’t know. I…I…”

Amy spoke gently. “It’s OK, little boy. A lot has changed in just a little time. I guess you just aren’t secure anymore without your diapers. Still, let’s go just put a diaper on over your panties. We’re still going to try the second part of our experiment. And don’t worry. If you wet your little panties, Mommy won’t punish you. I guess that’s what little baby boys – or sissy boys - do, is wet their panties. At least if you’re in your diapers too, it won’t make a mess.”

I hung my head and followed Amy up the stairs to my nursery again. I didn’t know what to think. I was actually quite relieved to be put back in diapers, but at the same time her talk was quite humiliating. What was worse? Wearing women’s panties and a skirt in front of my wife and her sister? Wearing a diaper? Or actually getting to the point of needing a diaper and freely admitting it? I was being humiliated but at the same time was beginning to accept it all.

Mindlessly I allowed myself up onto my changing table. My skirt was flipped up as I lifted my bottom and then lowered it onto double thick cloth diapers. I felt the familiar tug of the cloth as the diapers were pulled through my legs and tight across my front to be pinned securely. Without thought, I allowed my feet to be threaded through the leg holes of my plastic panties. My body moved, seemingly of its own volition, as Amy pulled the panties up over my thick diapers and made sure the cloth was all tucked in.

I barely felt my panties anymore as I stood and smoothed out my tennis skirt as much as I could over the billowing diapers and plastic panties.

“There. You’re all set for now, aren’t you? You look very cute in your diapers and your little skirt. Time for snack, now, little one,” Amy said.

Amy held my hand to the stairs and I was led back down to the kitchen. I was put into my highchair and given a bottle of apple juice and a handful of animal crackers. My diapers felt just right, somehow, but knowing that I had on my skirt as I sat in the high chair seemed strange. Further, I’d begun a strange dance between feeling safe in my diapers and worrying about wetting my sissy panties. This was still a test. Could I keep my panties dry? How long could I hold out?

Still, I was hungry and eating the animal crackers took my mind away from my diapers. It seemed childish, but somehow just right as I munched away. I didn’t give a second thought to the idea that as I ate and then began sucking on my bottle for juice. I was still somewhat in my adult mind, or at least I thought, but somehow sitting in my highchair eating animal crackers and drinking from a baby bottle just seemed natural.

I’d barely finished the bottle and was still sitting in my high chair when I felt the warmth grow. I hadn’t even felt an urge and now my fears were becoming reality – I was wetting my diaper. And I was wetting my sissy panties. I was right about my wetting – but I had no joy in being right. It might have been half an hour since I’d been diapered, but it couldn’t have been more.

Amy had been straightening out the day’s mail and other things on the kitchen counter as I spoke. It was as if she was purposefully working around the fact that I was sitting in the highchair being tested on whether I would pee myself.

“Mommy,” I began, hesitantly.

“What, honey?” she said, hearing in the tone of my voice alone what I was about to say. Still, she kept her voice steady and even.

“Mommy,” I repeated. “I…I think I just wet. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I think I wet my panties.”

I waited for an explosive reaction, but instead she tilted her head a little and just smiled.

“It’s OK, little boy. What you mean though is that you did wet. You don’t just think you did, because if you think you did then you must have. But you tried, didn’t you? You just couldn’t help it, could you? I guess you were right after all. You do need your diapers, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry. I did try. I really, really tried. But I just wet. I didn’t even feel it coming. All of a sudden I was just peeing…”

I tried to continue, but my lip just quivered. I wasn’t even sure how I felt. I felt a defeated. I felt very sad. I felt I’d let down Amy – Mommy – whoever she was becoming to me. At the same time, I’d known I was going to wet. I also knew that it was no surprise to Amy either. It not only was expected, but it was something she wanted to have happen. I was sad, but the warmth in my diaper was also something that somehow fulfilled me. It – it felt good. It felt almost right. What was happening?

It seemed like Amy understood all of this as she approached me and cradled me in her arms as much as she could with me in the high chair.

“It’s OK, diaperpt. We’ll keep you in your diapers. Aunty Jill and I are going to take good care of you. We’re going to help you be the person you know you really want to be. You’ll be our little baby here at home. You’ll go to work and wear your diapers there, too, but we’ll help you make sure no one knows our little secret. This really is what you want, isn’t it?”

I didn’t know quite what to say. I was pretty sure I wanted to scream, “YES! I want to be in diapers all the time!” At the same time, I just wasn’t sure. I feared punishment from Amy and Jill and I feared being exposed to the rest of the world for what I seemed to be becoming. And I knew I had to say something. Amy expected me to answer and I needed to say something. I just didn’t know what.

“I…umm…I…”

“It’s OK. You don’t need to say a thing. It’ll work out,” she said and kissed me on the top of my head.

I could only wonder if it would really work out and if so, how it could possibly. I had become so confused. I was slipping deeper and deeper into… what was it that I was slipping into? I didn’t even know!

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I did a lot of writing yesterday. I hope this next chapter makes sense and fits in well with the rest of the story. More is coming as soon as I get a little more time to write.

Chapter 17: Into Saturday afternoon

Amy left me sitting in my highchair as she finished the odds and ends she’d been working on in the kitchen. She’d said that since I was already wet, I might as well just sit in my diaper for a while more.

The warmth of another release into my diaper had just begun fading as she came to let me out of the chair. I’d been thinking about how all this was going to work – how I’d actually be kept in diapers all the time. As I felt myself begin to pee, I realized I’d barely felt any pressure at all. How was I going to be kept in diapers? The question was more like how was I going to even think about not being in diapers?

The wetness had spread through my diaper and underneath, I felt the tightness of my sissy panties. I knew I was wetting them yet again and still I knew that my pee was being contained by thirsty double thick cloth diapers. How did I feel about that? I just wasn’t sure. Again and again I rolled the mental tape of loving my diapers before that fateful Saturday morning – seemingly years and years ago. I went over the embarrassment and humiliation I’d endured since then. Yes, I’d been forced to wear these diapers, but was it so different from what I’d really wanted not that long ago? Didn’t I feel secure in my diapers? Did it bother me at all to wet my diapers or was it just the thought of having no choice? But did choice even matter anymore, since I was so far along in peeing without even thinking about it? Yes, I was so confused.

I rolled through these thoughts over and over as I cleaned the downstairs lavatory. As I cleaned the toilet, it seemed so familiar to me, but so distant. I’d been allowed to use the upstairs bathrooms for my poop over the last couple of weeks, but not in the last few days. I think my last poop in the toilet must have been…was it last Wednesday morning or was it last Thursday morning? I wasn’t sure.

Once that bathroom was cleaned, it was time for lunch. Back into my highchair in the kitchen for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in small pieces and my usual baby bottle of milk. I was then taken to my nursery and changed. As I lay on my changing table, Mommy slid down my plastic panties then unpinned and folded down my wet diapers. Then I remembered my panties. I felt so dirty when Mommy slid the soaked silk panties down my legs.

“Well,” Amy said, “say goodbye to these! I won’t bother trying you in any of your panties any more. You’ve told me you want to be kept in your diapers. You’ve told me you need them and you’ve pretty much proven beyond any doubt that you really are just a peeing, pooping little baby boy. Isn’t that right?”

“I’m sorry I peed my panties,” I whispered. The wet panties slipping off my legs felt so disgusting to me. I was embarrassed and yet was also embarrassed to keep saying that I need diapers.

“That isn’t what I asked you, little one. I asked if you aren’t just a peeing, pooping little baby boy. Answer me!” Her voice rose just a little in irritation, but didn’t sound seriously angry. I counted myself lucky.

“Yes, Mommy. I guess I’m just a peeing, pooping little baby boy,” I said, carefully using her exact words so as not to anger her. I didn’t want to say this and while Amy had promised not to punish me for wetting my panties, she might still punish me if I didn’t respond the way she wanted me to now.

“So you really do need your diapers from now on, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, Mommy. I guess I need my diapers,” I said softly. It stung to say this, but I realized it was true.

“You don’t need to guess! Tell me! Do you need your diapers or not?”

This time I did sense a little anger and I answered quickly, “Yes, Mommy. I’m a peeing, pooping little boy and I need my diapers.”

“OK. That’s better! Try to remember who you really are. Try to behave and be Mommy’s and Aunty Jill’s good little baby boy and when you are good, we won’t have to worry about punishing you. Remember too that if you forget and try to act like a big boy when we don’t give you permission, you will be in big trouble. Remember your downstairs nursery and that you’ve only begun to get to know what we can do to you down there.” She spoke firmly, but evenly.

Soon I was re-diapered and allowed into my crib for my nap. As the bars rattled shut and the lock clicked, I mentally went over what I’d learned all too well in the dungeon down in the cellar – that Amy casually referred to as ‘my downstairs nursery.’ I had to be happy to be here in my crib. Life was not going to be an ideal of what I wanted; rather I was going to have to find joy in having the better of any particular situation. Sometimes things were going to be very bad for me. Other times, things would be better and if I was going to have any joy or pleasure in my life, I needed to recognize those times when things were better.

It began to occur to me that this was not so different from what anyone’s life really was. There were few people in this world who had the extreme luxury of living a life where they got to call all the shots and enjoyed every minute of their lives. Far too many in this world had little or no hope of a happy life. I begin thinking that if I could learn to get along with Amy and Jill and stay on their good side, my life would at least be better than that of a lot of people in the world. For now, I was fed, clothed in a dry diaper and allowed a nap in the middle of the day. What really – other than possibly the necessity of wearing a diaper – was wrong with that? These thoughts brought some peace to me and I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke it was to the sounds which actually seemed comforting to me; the rattle of the crib sides and top which surrounded and enclosed me, the crinkle of the plastic under-sheet of my crib and the rustling of my plastic panties. I sensed the thickness of diapers between my legs holding me securely and the comfortable tightness of the elastic legs and waist of my plastic panties. There was a warm clamminess within assuring me I’d wet myself while sleeping. I sucked on my pacifier and took all this in. I lay there almost happy that I was now experiencing this. Everything was beginning to seem as it ought to be.

I waited patiently for Mommy or Aunty Jill to come let me up, but as I waited I began to sense something that was not all that comforting to me. I felt a heaviness inside and I began to remember that I hadn’t moved my bowels since yesterday morning when I’d been given suppositories. Surely I’d be given the chance to use the potty. Yesterday was just a punishment.

Finally Mommy came in to let me up. She unlocked my crib and led me to the changing table.

“Mommy,” I said. “I’m going to have to do a poop soon. I can feel it coming.”

“Do you need to do it right now, baby? What are you saying?”

“Not right now, but I think it’s going to come pretty soon. Maybe I should go potty now so I don’t do it in my diapers,” I said.

“I see. That’s what you think, huh?” Amy smiled at me as she spoke, “You think you need the potty? Where’s the little boy that just this morning told me he needs his diapers?”

“But you don’t want me to do poop in my diapers, do you?” I said.

Amy looked at me, smiling and said, “Look, it isn’t what I want, is it? You told me you wanted to be kept in your diapers. You told me that you need your diapers; that you are just a peeing, pooping little diaper boy. Isn’t that right?”

I began, “But Mommy, you said…”

“Honey, you don’t need to tell me what I said. I’m the Mommy. It isn’t what either of us said, though, is it? It’s what you need. You know you need your diapers. It’s obvious now that you do need them and so we might as well get used to that idea.”

I was beginning to get upset now. “But I don’t want to do poop in my diapers…”

Her smile began to disappear from her face, but she still spoke gently as a mother would to a little child who just didn’t understand. “You need to stop correcting me, little boy. I don’t want to have to punish you, but if you keep giving me back talk I will have to, won’t I?”

My lip began to quiver slightly. I didn’t know what to say. If I kept arguing I was going to be in trouble, but I was afraid of how things were going now. What if she meant it and I was not going to be allowed to use the toilet at all; that I was going to have to use my diapers for everything? What would this mean for work? Certainly she didn’t mean for work too, did she? I didn’t dare ask. I didn’t dare say anything.

She took on a more stern tone of voice, “Speak up, diaperboy. I asked you a question. Now are you going to be a good boy or am I going to have to punish you?”

Feeling no options – or at least no good options, I whimpered, “I’ll be a good boy, Mommy.”

“That’s better,” she said. “Now let’s get you changed so you can finish your work for the day.”

I’d hoped that at least she’d put me in a disposable, but instead I was put in my usual day-time double thick cloth diapers. For now it was good to be dry, but I was too worried about what might be happening all too soon to enjoy the soft dry thickness surrounding me. As my plastic panties were pulled up and my onesie snapped securely, I began to hope against hope that I could just hold off until later; that maybe I’d be allowed use of the toilet after all. Maybe I could hold it until a time when I could ask Jill; maybe she’d let me use the toilet. Maybe.

I held out this hope as I finished the pile of ironing that was my job to do. There wasn’t that much today, so it didn’t take me too long. So far so good – I could still feel the heaviness inside, but so far there was no feeling of urgency. Maybe I could hold off. Maybe.

Amy had told me she had to go out for a while and to let Jill know when I’d finished the ironing. When I did, she had me begin to clean the upstairs bathrooms.

“Make sure you get the toilet bowls really clean, OK?” Jill said this in almost a purposefully taunting way.

Even so, I decided to brave the question, “Aunty Jill, before I finish cleaning the toilets, can I poop?”

“Of course you can, little boy. Poop whenever you need to,” she said as she left me to my chores.

My heart almost sang! YES! I could use the toilet! Jill said! I decided to hold out a while until the pressure had gotten much worse. Jill would expect me to finish the bathrooms within a certain amount of time and I didn’t feel I could afford the luxury of spending too much time on the toilet. I’d finished Amy’s bathroom and had begun to clean the sink in the common bathroom when I decided I’d better not risk waiting longer. It would take a little time to undo my onesie, panties and unpin my diapers. The pressure was getting severe now. It was time to make my move.

I’d unsnapped my onesie, slid my plastic panties down to my ankles and was about to unpin my diapers when I heard, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? HOW DARE YOU!”

I looked up to see a look of shock and anger on Jill’s face. “PULL UP THOSE PLASTIC PANTS RIGHT NOW!”

Frozen in position, I stammered, “But…but I needed to poop. You said…”

“I said you could poop whenever you need to! Yes, I said that! But what made you think you could take off your diapers? Whatever made you think you were going to use the potty? You’re in big trouble now,” she glowered at me.

“But Aunty Jill…”

“Don’t ‘Aunty Jill’ me! Pull up those panties NOW! And follow me!” she said.

There was no room for discussion and I knew it. I was in shock. I had no idea that Jill didn’t intend me to use the toilet. I honestly thought she’d given me permission. Too shocked to do anything but obey, I bent over and pulled up my plastic panties. Without time to snap my onesie, I followed Jill out the door and down the stairs. Why hadn’t it occurred to me that this might have even been a set up; that Amy and Jill had planned for this sort of thing and that Jill had carefully worded her response to suck me into this situation? Now what was going to happen?

As Jill turned from the base of the stairs toward the doorway to the cellar, my heart chilled. Not the room downstairs! No! Please Jill, please not downstairs. I didn’t dare actually speak the words and instead simply hung my head as I followed her down the stairs. There was no sense in resisting. I knew that much. My heart pounded as Jill pulled a cloth covering from a big square shaped object in the corner of the room. It looked a lot like a dining room table, split in the middle so that leaves could be inserted.

She even made me help her pull the leaves apart before she directed me to kneel on the floor in between the open leaves. Next she slid a hood over my head. It was black and made of a smooth stretchy fabric. It had an opening for my nose and my mouth but my eyes were now shut off from any light at all. I felt a strap tighten around my neck – enough to keep the mask firmly in place without restricting my breathing in any way.

Now I could only hear and feel what was happening. Jill walked away from the table and returned. I heard the sound of wood on wood directly in front of me. It seemed like Jill was putting a leaf into the table. Now a sound behind me indicated another leaf had been placed into the table.

Jill took my right hand and held it up at neck level. “Hold your hand right there, baby.”

She moved to the other side of the table and repeated the action with my other hand. “Don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I heard the movement of the table leaves as wood slid on wood. Immediately I felt my hands and neck being held in place by firm, yet cushioned, rubber. I could only imagine this restraint, but it seemed that the leaves Jill had put in the table had semi-circular openings for my neck and wrist, lined with firm padding which thankfully would avoid direct contact with the wood of the table yet hold me firmly in place.

I heard and sensed the clicking of what had to be locks to insure I’d not be going anywhere soon. Finally I felt a restraint placed on each ankle as they were pulled outward at just beyond a comfortable stretch.

“While you’re here, I want you to think about the fact that you made me do this to you. I trusted you to clean the bathrooms by yourself and behave. Instead, you took it on yourself to think that you should take off your own diapers. You were actually going to try to use the potty like big boys do! You know better than that!” Jill spoke sharply but I sensed it was a forced edge of anger that I heard.

I didn’t dare try to argue and instead could only plead. “Please, Aunty Jill, don’t leave me here. I really thought you were going to let me use the potty. I need to poop. You don’t want me to poop in my diapers. Please let me out. That’s it, Aunty Jill,” I said hopefully. “ Just let me up to do poop in the potty then you can put me back here if you want. Please. I don’t want to poop in my diapers.”

Jill laughed and said, “What a pathetic little baby you are! You thought I was going to let you use the potty! You’ve got to learn NOT to think when it comes to your diapers. I wasn’t going to let you use the potty before and I’m certainly not going to let you use the potty now! You had your chance this morning to prove you didn’t really need your diapers. Instead, you peed right in your sissy panties. Then you admitted that you want your diapers and really do need them. Now you’ve got your diapers forever. That’s what you wanted all along. So now, go ahead and use them. If you need to poop, just go ahead and poop.”

“Please…” I began.

“Now you’re just adding time to your stint down here. Keep it up! See how comfortable you are in an hour or so – let alone after a night here. Is that what you want?” she taunted.

She waited for me to reply, but wisely I said nothing. After a moment, I felt something working its way into my mouth. “Here you go, now. You’ll be here long enough to need something to drink. You’ll be getting some formula for meals, too. You won’t know how long you’ll be here until we decide to let you out. And when you aren’t drinking, it will keep you from saying stupid things that will only get you punished more.”

The sound of her footsteps faded away and I was left to myself and my senses. Water filled the bulb of the gag in my mouth and I began to drink. I was thirsty, so this was no punishment. My hands rested on the table top. The lining around them was comfortable, but still, my hands and arms were now totally useless appendages. There was a little play around my neck if I kneeled perfectly vertical. I tried relaxing my posture a little and found that the padding around my neck was such that it supported my head without cutting off my breathing. The problem with that was that the weight of my body was then supported by my neck. I decided to try to remain perfectly still as much as possible and avoid neck strain. Already my lower legs were announcing discomfort in their position. Other than stretching them even further apart, there was no hope for a change of position.

In all this discomfort, I sensed my next discomfort developing even further. Upstairs I had almost gotten to the point of giving my bowels permission to expel. The terror of Jill’s sudden appearance in the bathroom had countermanded that permission, but now the time had come. My bottom wasn’t asking permission; it was demanding release. My inner control fought it out with the urgent necessity for a short while, but soon the battle was over. And it was not even a skirmish, really. My mind fought much harder than my muscles were able to. They’d done their best and now gave in to the relentless pressure. I felt the slide and exit. A soft explosion of warmth into the back of my diapers ballooned out. More slid out to join what was there and I felt a warm release of urine as well.

My humiliation was complete. My diapers were full now and I had been sentenced to an indeterminate time in them. I knew it was only a matter of time before I wet myself some more, but it was the thought of being left in my messy, poopy diapers that really bothered me. What had happened to the serenity I’d felt earlier? I had become more accepting of being diapered and using them. I’d remembered how nice it was to wear and use diapers long ago – before being discovered by Amy. It had been my fantasy and I had begun to accept my new situation – my new reality – as a living out of that fantasy.

I had limits. That was it. I had limits. I didn’t mind wearing and using diapers for #1. I didn’t want to be forced to poop in them. That was it.

Or was it? Didn’t I have those days before when I’d be home alone and diapered up? Didn’t I let myself poop into my disposables? And although I hadn’t admitted as much to Amy since I’d been caught, didn’t I actually experiment with suppositories? It had all seemed so exciting and naughty back then, but I’d done it. Hadn’t I posted in “Stinky, Squishy & Proud” about how great it was to poop in my diaper?

But no, this was different. This wasn’t my idea. I didn’t want to have to poop in my diapers. It was the free will thing again. And what was to happen next week? Amy had said I’d be going back to work. I’d have to go back to work! We couldn’t afford me not to be working. So how was that all going to play out? No, I couldn’t be pooping my diapers. This wasn’t going to work.

I fussed some more as I became less and less comfortable. My muscles were already telling me they didn’t like this position. My unhappiness about being locked in only made my wet and messy diapers feel worse. And I was only wetting more as I finally exhausted the water feeding into my mouth.

Sucking on the bulb in my mouth helped soothe me somewhat, but still I was very uncomfortable, very unhappy and at least a little angry. I knew why I was uncomfortable and unhappy, but strangely I couldn’t pinpoint why I was angry. In fact, I wasn’t even sure who to be angry at. Was I angry at Jill for putting me here? Was I angry at Jill for tricking me? Or did she trick me? Did I just fool myself? I remembered her saying I had to clean the bathrooms and that I could poop whenever I wanted to. She was right, though; she never said I could use the toilet and in fact, one of the biggest rules I had to follow was that at home I was NOT to remove my diapers on my own. Should I be angry with myself, then?

Was I angry with Amy because it was certain that Jill was only going along with what the two of them had arranged; as much as Jill seemed to enjoy all this, it wasn’t strictly her idea. Was I angry because I’d been forced to empty my bowels into my diapers? I’d done this before though, so if it was that, what about pooping my diaper made me angry? Now I was getting frustrated, if not a little more angry, because I couldn’t puzzle out my own emotions. Knowing that I’d have plenty of time to think about all this was no consolation.

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Comments are more than welcome; it helps me know there are people who continue to read. Even if you tell me 'enough is enough' or 'this story stinks' that's fine. Now, of course, I prefer to hear positive things, but please don't hesitate to comment.

Chapter 18: Help in Figuring Out My Emotions

I continued to struggle with my feelings about this embarrassing use of my diapers. The deposit in the back of my diapers was beginning to dry and crust in spite of being moistened by a frequent release of warm pee. Soon I heard a double set of footfalls make their way down the cellar stairs.

Oh no! Amy must be home! I was gripped with terror in the knowledge that now I’d have to face her. I’d clearly disobeyed the rules of my captivity. I’d made one more transgression against Amy and against her conditions for my living arrangements. At any time, she could reveal my secret; she could go public with the pictures and video of my diaper life, begin divorce proceedings and toss me out on my ear. I’d be the laughingstock of everyone I knew and I’d certainly lose my job. I had hated the thought of pooping in my diapers and yet the prospect of what Amy might do terrified me even more.

Her voice boomed at me, “What were you thinking! What is wrong with you? Aunty Jill and I have been trying our best to help you and this is what we get?”

I wanted to answer her. I wanted to say how sorry I was. I wanted to beg for forgiveness and instead I could only blubber into my gag.

She continued, “Oh I’m so glad Aunty Jill gave you that feeding pacifier! I’m in NO mood to hear your little sniveling baby voice. So you thought you were going to try to take advantage of Aunty Jill and get her to let you use the potty? You were trying to play one of us off against the other? You thought maybe you didn’t need your diapers in spite of what you’ve admitted over and over again? Maybe you thought you could be in control? Maybe you thought you were a big boy? Well, you’re in for it now!”

I could only mumble into the gag and fear what was coming. Even as I dreaded whatever was coming, it was a small relief to be released from the table. Amy and Jill were none too gentle as I was practically dragged across the floor and almost thrown up onto the changing table. My plastic panties were roughly pulled down and off my legs before I was strapped into stirrups holding my legs splayed out and my bottom slightly off the table.

My mind couldn’t even imagine what might be coming, but it such wonderful relief to have my filthy diapers removed and to feel cool moist wipes cleaning away the waste I’d unceremoniously left in my diapers. Even the sweet smell of baby oil being spread and rubbed into my clean, hairless diaper area was a temporary relief until Amy announced her intentions.

“You didn’t want to poop your diapers. Well, we’re going to have to get you used to that. When we started this, I thought you might be able to maintain a little control. I guess I was wrong. You may not want to use your diapers for everything, but you’re going to have to.

I’m so happy you led us right to dailydiapers. It’s such a great resource for ideas for helping people like you fulfill their fantasy and really live the life they need. Remember reading about bananas up your tailpipe? You’re about to experience the pleasure so many of your little friends wrote about!”

I did remember that thread and now wished it had never been started. I trembled in fear as I felt a gob of lubricant at my backside and then one, then two fingers explore my opening. Now I felt the pressure of an intruder parting the seal, becoming its own fullness inside me. Again and again.

“Jill, how many bananas did that one guy say he could fit in? Was it three?” Amy asked.

“I think it might have even been more. I’d love to see you just keep stuffing him, but we don’t want to hurt him. We just want to make sure he can feel the experience of using his diapers.”

“Whew! Thank you Jill!” I thought into my pacifier. I was uncomfortable now, but didn’t want to be hurt! This was bad enough!

Soon I was dressed again in double thick cloth diapers covered with snap-on panties. My legs were released from the stirrups and I was put in a sitting position. The onesie which I’d had on was removed and I sensed a new one put on over my head. I was made to lie down again and I felt the snaps being fastened.

Amy’s voice informed me, “I’m going to keep the pacifier in, but I want you to see where you’ll be spending your evening and night. I’m taking off the mask now.”

I blinked as the mask came off roughly and the light of the room assaulted my eyes. I shook my head trying to let my eyes adjust to the light as I was made to stand. I was feeling slightly woozy and unstable as Amy on one side and Jill on the other held my arms and led me across the room to…

No! They couldn’t put me in there! No! I shook my head. I pulled back against their strong grasp. Not in there! It was another piece of equipment I hadn’t seen before. In spite of my resistance I was forced down onto a narrow lightly padded surface. On three sides there were strong black metal bars that stood up maybe not even as much as a foot from the surface on which I was now forced to lie. Once they were satisfied with my position, a fourth side which had folded down to allow my entry was folded up with a loud clanking noise. Now, from the back another set of bars was folded over the top. I screamed into my gag fearing that these bars were going to slam down onto me! Only the loud echoing clang of this set of bars against the others offered any assurance I wasn’t going to be hit by them. Still, I looked up to see the bars immediately over me. I wasn’t normally claustrophobic, but these bars were so close to my face I felt more closed in than I’d ever felt before. My panic was still rising as I winced at the sound of padlocks being rammed shut, sealing my fate.

When I tried to bring a hand up to wipe away a tear forming in my grief filled eyes, I realized the bars were so tight to my body that I couldn’t even move my arms up over my body without difficult contortions. I needn’t have worried about that, however, as each of my captors quickly bound my wrists to the side of the cage. Now my ankles were being bound to the sides of the cage as well.

Jill smiled down at me and said, “Oh you look so frightened! You should be happy you’re here and not at the ‘head of the table’ like you were before. At least here you can lie down and relax. Well, that is, relax as much as a poopy little baby can relax. Are you wondering how long you can hold in all those bananas? I’m only a little curious because I know it’ll all be coming out of you soon enough. You’re going to be here all night, now so you will need some formula. Don’t worry though because we’re going to be giving you lots of fiber as well. Lots to eat with lots and lots of fiber and lots to drink to wash it all down. That way, once you’ve emptied your little bottom into your diapers, you’ll still be working on something to put in your diapers tomorrow.”

My bottom felt horribly full and yet I couldn’t imagine releasing poop while locked in this cage. I wondered if maybe I’d have been better off in the table contraption; at least I could poop freely when the time came.

Amy looked at me in the most belittling way and said, “Oh you are a poopy little baby, aren’t you! I can already see in your face that you’re trying to figure out how you’re going to relieve yourself in this special crib. You’ll find a way, though. And then tomorrow, you’ll find a way again. You WILL get used to using your diapers for EVERYTHING little boys need them for. And while you’re in there, I want you to remember that this is only what you’ve wanted all along. You’ve wanted this treatment for years – we’ve read all your posts on dailydiapers and some of your other sites and know just what you’ve wanted. Now you are getting it. You’ve admitted that you want your diapers and that you need your diapers. We’ve gone over and over that. This little resistance of yours will pass. It may not be all at once and it may require some additional training, but it will pass.”

While Amy spoke, Jill had been busy attaching a large pregnant bag of fluid on a stand above this cage. A hose from it was attached to my feeding gag and soon thick formula was feeding into my mouth. I gave in and swallowed without tasting. Since there was a constant presence of the formula in my mouth, it was difficult to taste anyway. Besides, pressure was beginning to build even more in my bottom and I was being emotionally torn between trying to void as soon as possible and relieve the pressure or trying to hold in as long as possible and avoid the humiliation of full diapers again.

As the two turned to leave me to my own devices, Amy looked back and said, “Oh one of us will look in on you from time to time. We’ll give you something to drink and then later on, more to eat. And we’ll actually change you as well. You’ll get to enjoy the feeling of full diapers for a while, but we have no desire to have to get diaper rash. After all, you need to be in good enough condition to go to work Monday morning!”

“Monday morning,” I thought. Right now I couldn’t even imagine the real world. I couldn’t imagine myself in a dress shirt and slacks. Here I was in thick diapers, plastic pants and a onesie locked in a tiny cage waiting – not for nature to take its course, as having bananas stuffed up my backside was NOT natural – but waiting for my body to expel a load into my diapers. There was an un-estimable chasm between my present condition and my work environment. Somehow Amy and Jill had it planned that I would be bridging that gap between now and Monday morning. “Monday morning” loomed in my mind and yet I had more immediate problems to cope with.

The door clanked shut and footsteps retreated up the stairs. The formula continued its flow into my mouth and the pressure in my bottom grew. I could only wiggle slightly in this cage and at that, when I did move, I felt the urge to expel grow. For now at least I wanted to keep myself as clean as possible, so I hoped to be able to hold in the threatening mass in my bottom. Time moved slowly. The formula had slowed as I felt uncomfortably full and yet there was still some of the pasty stuff coming into my mouth. The fullness of my stomach was bumping into the fullness in my bottom and I began to wonder how long I could hold out.

It was a time after I’d finished my formula when Jill came into the room and replaced the empty bag of formula with a fresh, full bag of what tasted a little like tainted apple juice. I’d already wet my diapers at least once or twice in the small dribbles I’d becoming accustomed to. Still, in spite of growing cramps, my bottom had not betrayed me. I thought that not only did the formula and undoubtedly the juice contain Metamucil or some other form of bulk fiber, it probably contained some sort of drug. I knew this because I was becoming more and more aware of a growing anxiety within. I had the initial panic of being placed in this cage, but I was beginning to feel an unnatural upward spiral in the dread I felt over being in this cage and needing to void. I had been tired when placed in this cage, but instead of drifting off to sleep I was becoming more and more attuned to the closeness of the bars. I was tired, yet wide awake.

Finally after some time – I’d finished the juice as well by then – the cramps began to become unbearable. I tugged at my leg restraints only to have them give just enough so that my knees slapped hard against the bars of the cage. I wiggled as much as I could. By now I was sweating profusely and pushing with all my might, trying to get rid of the horrible pressure. I felt some movement, then more cramps and then more movement until I felt a slippery release. My breathing steadied until cramps returned and the process repeated itself. It seemed I was pushing out a segment of a banana at a time.

Above me the bars of the cage drew closer to me, faded and disappeared, reappeared even closer to me, they retreated into the distance and spread apart only to draw together. They fell out of focus then drew into an exaggerated focus that frightened me to tears. I knew that all this was caused by the contents of my juice and formula and yet when Jill appeared with more formula, I sucked greedily at it.

She laughed at me after looking through the bars at my condition. “You seem to be liking your formula and I think it’s helping you use your diapers for what you know they’re meant for. You’re developing quite a load down there. I don’t think you’re done though, so we won’t be changing you for a while. Enjoy the experience, baby. Remember, you need to get used to the idea of using your diapers for everything.”

As she left I drew more and more formula into my mouth. It had begun to taste good. It had begun to be what I wanted and needed. I cramped more and expelled more into my diapers. It was uncomfortable but it was what I needed to do. It was what I really wanted to do, I thought. My focus was so total and so complete I barely noticed the familiar trickles of pee into my diapers as well. Now the bars of the cage had finally stopped their mocking of me. They sat still, far too close and far too threatening, but now they were just there. Perhaps the drug had worn off or perhaps it was just another phase in their action.

I began to think how I’d done this to myself. Even this morning, I’d acknowledged to Amy that I did need my diapers. I’d been so embarrassed to wet my sissy panties – how would I have felt if I’d pooped in them? If I couldn’t hold my pee – and I’d realized well by now that I couldn’t – then I’d need to be in diapers. If I was going to be in diapers, why was it such a big deal to poop in them? Amy and Jill had proven to me that they would take care of me and change me when I needed it. Why should I doubt that they’d take care of me if I pooped? Wasn’t that just a natural consequence of wearing diapers?

I still wasn’t ready to deal with the idea of returning to work Monday and dealing with that, but I remembered that Amy had no interest in having others find out about my diapers. Why couldn’t I just trust her? She was my wife; well, now I had to call her ‘Mommy’ but I still recognized her as my wife. I’d trusted her implicitly throughout our relationship. Why would I not trust her now? Well, there was the matter of my own transgressions. I hadn’t trusted her with my desire for diapers, had I? But that was all I’d ever withheld from her. Now looking back it was being drastically proven to me that not trusting her with that secret was a huge mistake. Could I overcome all this and learn to live with what now seemed to be inevitable in my life?

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Here is another chapter. Let me know what you like or dislike about each chapter...it can be a big help as I continue writing. Thanks!

Chapter 19: Enduring the night and looking forward

I’d gotten more uncomfortable in my messy diapers. It was no consolation at all thinking that the load in them was bananas. It was actually pretty disgusting to me. I almost wished it had been my own excrement. It would have seemed more natural at least. I was, however, getting more comfortable with the idea that I should just get used to messing myself as well as wetting. My mind couldn’t get around the thought of doing this outside the house, but I began to reason that somehow it would all work out. It would work out if I could just trust Amy and Jill.

When Amy came down the stairs, opened the cage and gently cleaned up my messy bottom, putting me into nice clean, dry nighttime diapers. This went a long way toward reinforcing my thoughts that I ought to trust her. I was given another full bag of formula and realized that the full stomach I felt would also mean full diapers again in the not too distant future. I’d dribbled more into my diapers but there was no feeling of pressure in my bottom. Thank goodness for that at least. Thank goodness also that the formula didn’t seem to have any obvious drugs in them; I was terrified enough of being enclosed in this tight cage.

As uncomfortable and claustrophobic as I was, exhaustion gradually overcame mere tiredness and I began at least a fitful sleep. A few times I’d jerk awake with a sudden feeling of falling. It was momentary but it felt worse in that in my movement I’d jam my knees against the top of the cage. Unlike the soft rattling sounds of my crib upstairs, the sound of the cage bars was harsh and menacing. The lights had been left on down here and so when I woke, the bars of the cage stared eerily back at me, taunting me for the behavior which had put me here.

Several times I woke from the sheer discomfort of my position. I tried to wiggle a little to relieve the ache of inactivity, but it did little good. At those times, I’d lie there thinking of what was to come; I’d certainly be using my diapers to empty my bottom. I didn’t want to lose control of my bottom entirely as it seemed I was losing urinary continence, but I wondered if it mattered since I’d be using my diapers anyway. But then, I was to return to work on Monday and for the foreseeable future, so I wanted to have some control. So yes, I’d struggle to keep control of my backside. But what about those times when I fell out of my usual morning routine? What of those times when I’d had a movement at work? Maybe I could… I wasn’t sure. I’d stay awake more worrying about this and worrying about other things I didn’t and couldn’t know. How long would I be kept here? What other punishment did Amy and Jill have in mind? When could I return to my nursery upstairs?

I actually laughed at that – I laughed out loud around my gag – ‘my nursery’! Whatever happened to my adult life? Whatever happened to sleeping in my bed with my wife? Last week when I’d gone to work in diapers even seemed ridiculously long ago, let alone the week before when I was ‘allowed’ to wear my sissy panties! I laughed and yet I did long for my nursery and my crib. At least it was better than this. And was it really so bad anyway?

But I didn’t want to abandon my adult life altogether either and I looked forward to the chance of going back to work on Monday. Yes, it seemed impossible. I’d gotten through almost 4 – really only 3 ½ - days of wearing diapers to work, but then I’d had the leak. I’d end up with more leaks, wouldn’t I? How would I handle it? And now I was to use my diapers for everything. Most of the time, I might be able to be regular enough to use them only in the morning – or maybe in the evening – but what about accidents? I looked forward to work, but with a little dread too.

Over and over, I had cycles of sleep and periods of wakefulness with these thoughts cycling through my mind. I began to see a faint rise of light from the outside windows and then fell asleep again. Later, I saw the first rays of sun trickle through the windows. My diapers were wet and I was beginning to feel a lot of pressure in my bottom. I’d have to force myself to poop soon and yet I drifted off to sleep again. When I awoke again, it was to full morning light, though I had no sense of what time it might be.

My bottom screamed out at me and I began to wiggle, push, twist, twist, wiggle and push until I was rewarded with a warm delivery into the bottom of my diapers. Thankfully it was somewhat soft and though it felt messy against the skin of my backside, it relieved some of the pressure I felt. I worked at it again and the load in my diapers grew in size again. Every slight movement I was able to make in my tightly bound condition moved the load slightly and spread it at least ever so slightly against my skin. In spite of my discomfort, I somehow slipped off to sleep again.

It was the footfalls of someone on the stairs that woke me next. I had such mixed feelings; on the one hand I was terribly embarrassed to have even Jill or Amy come in and find me so messy and on the other hand, I was so hopeful of being cleaned up and allowed fresh diapers.

Amy entered and at once made a wincing smile, putting her fingers to her nose. “Good for you, diaperpt! You’re getting the idea now! Let me give you some breakfast and then we’ll clean you up.”

As she hooked up a huge bag of formula, I mumbled into my gag and shook my head. I wanted to be cleaned up now! I felt awful. The mass in the back of my diaper squished as I wiggled in defiance. It had been thoroughly soaked with my many wettings during the night and I was afraid I’d start leaking.

“Stop that! Don’t resist me. What’s wrong with you? You don’t get to decide what I’m going to do for you or when. You need your breakfast. Now stop this right now or I’ll have to punish you. You don’t want that, do you?”

Not even knowing what the punishment might be, I stopped immediately. I gently shook my head back and forth only enough to indicate my abdication. “No, I don’t want that. I don’t want punishment, Mommy,” was what I’d have said if I weren’t gagged. I let her attach the bag and began nursing it.

Not long after I’d finished the formula and a bag of juice, Amy returned to me and opened the cage. I gave a huge sigh of relief as the top slipped back and the side flipped down. I was stiff and had to be given time to move to a sitting position. The poop squished all over me but I was powerless to prevent it. It took me a while more before I could stand. When I did, I felt my diapers slip and sag. The poop pulled away from my backside, but still left a good layer against my skin.

I was led to the cellar shower room as my diapers continued to sag even further. If I’d had to take even a few more steps, I felt they would have simply fallen off into my plastic panties. As it was, once my hands were attached to the bar above my head, I felt my diapers slip even more. They fell off entirely as Amy pulled down my plastic panties and so she simply had me step out of both panties and diapers. I remembered the last time I was brought here to be cleaned up and I was thankful that the initial blast of water seemed a little warmer. The feeling of having flecks of my own poop forcefully sprayed off of me and the sense of the brown rivulets of water running down my legs was humiliating but I was so happy that I’d be clean!

I endured what I had to endure and once all traces of my previous condition had disappeared down the drain, I felt good. I was stiff and sore, but I was clean. Amy washed every inch of my body with a soapy washcloth taking special care around my diaper area. Rinsed again, I was gently dried with soft towels and led to the changing table where my legs were lifted gently but firmly into the stirrups. After special care to be sure I was totally dry, Amy slathered on baby oil and rubbed it gently and I thought, lovingly, into my skin.

Her gentle patter about taking care of her diaper boy rolled off me; I was used to that. This time, however, she kept complimenting me on accepting that I was going to have to poop in my diapers. “What a good little boy you’ve been, diaperpt. You are getting used to pooping in your diapers aren’t you? You aren’t going to resist it anymore, are you? Now I’m sure you’re aware of what a challenge it’s going to be, going to work in your diapers and not using the toilet at all. Well, I want you to know that I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and I’ve come up with a great idea. Again, it’s something I never would have thought of on my own if it weren’t for dailydiapers!”

She continued, “OK now, lift your bottom for your diapers.”

I lifted and then sighed happily as I felt my bottom settle back on a thick pile of deliciously soft fabric. I felt so much better now. I only hoped I wouldn’t have to poop in my diapers again too soon. I knew it would be inevitable. I’d begun to accept that, and I knew I’d be wetting them all too soon, but I wanted to avoid that messy feeling I’d experienced through the night last night. Perhaps I wouldn’t have thought that way if I knew what Amy had ready for me!

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