Jump to content
LL Medico Diapers and More Bambino Diapers - ABDL Diaper Store

The Diary Of A Bad Boy


Recommended Posts

This story is a fantasy on my fantasy. Feel free not to like this story - it isn't intended for everyone here. I write my stories for myself and share them when I think someone else out there might enjoy it as well.

Feel free to comment (since when has anyone here been reluctant?) - but especially if you've enjoyed the story. I have a second part written and might continue if there is any interest.

The Diary of a bad boy

Part One

One Saturday morning a while ago, I woke up to my wife standing over me. She had a big grin on her face. “You’ve been a bad boy. A very bad boy.”

I was being hopeful that maybe this was an introduction to some good morning sex; so I smiled back. “Well, if I’ve been bad, what are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” she said. That’s about when I felt the cuffs on my hands attached to the top of the bed. I got a little scared and a little excited at the same time. I had no idea where the cuffs could have come from – none of this was anything we’d ever even talked about doing before. “Where did you get these, hmm?” I tried to sound sexy.

She laughed and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know! Don’t worry; there’s more to come, but don’t bother to sound sexy. You look and sound like you think I’m kidding. You are a bad boy. You are a very bad, very little boy and today is going to be a treat for me at least. You may enjoy the fitting punishment I have in mind or you may not, but one thing is very clear. I’m onto you now and today is going to be first of many days like it. You see, you left your computer out last Friday night. When I got up on Saturday morning, I decided to log onto my email on your computer rather than power up mine. What a surprise! I had no idea that there were otherwise normal adults who wore diapers!”

I immediately reddened. I’d been discovered. “Honey,” I said, “honest, I’ve never been on that site before! I just stumbled on it and couldn’t believe it myself.”

She interrupted, “Don’t give me that, diaperpt! Did you forget that you just stay logged on? Did you think I didn’t find your profile there and some of those cute little pictures of yourself?”

I reddened even more and this time I kept silent. Amy said, “Well, diaperpt, what do you have to say for yourself now?”

In a very sincere, contrite voice, I said, “I’m so sorry, Amy. I never meant anything by this. I can stop. I’ll never go on that site again. It’s just…”

“Oh, shut up! You’re just sorry I caught you. Are you thinking I didn’t go digging further on Daily Diapers? And did you honestly think you’d hidden your diapers and other baby stuff so I would never find it? Of course I went looking and found your stuff!”

“I’ll stop! I’ll throw it all away. I don’t need it. I’ve got you. I’m so, so sorry, Amy.”

“No, little boy. You won’t throw it away. At least not for now. Today, we’re going to have some fun. I’ve got this little stun gun and you are going to cooperate fully. I’m hoping I won’t need to use the stun gun, but I will if I need to. You see, if you don’t cooperate, not only am I throwing you out on your ear and divorcing you, but I’ll let all our friends and all your work associates what’s been going on. I mean it, too. Just so you now I mean business, Jill? Jill, will you come in now? It’s time for our little boy to get up and start his day!”

I looked up to see Amy’s sister Jill walk into our bedroom with a grin even a little wider than Amy’s. She looked at me and said, “Oh little diaperpt, you look appropriately worried! Try to relax, though. We’re just going to help your fantasy come true, little one. Shall we get him started, Amy?”

Without even thinking, I started to try to reason, “Please, Amy. Please, we can talk this… OWWWW!” The stun gun touched my left arm and a burning sensation ripped through me.

“Baby, Mommy and Auntie are in charge now. Did you forget what I said? If you don’t cooperate, you’re history with me, your friends, your job…and pretty much your whole life. I don’t know who would support you, but I suppose you could live your little aby life somewhere on your own. Now I don’t want to hear another word out of you! Get it? Nod your head…don’t you DARE speak!”

Her voice had grown harsh and I knew she meant business. Wisdom borne of ten years of marriage to Amy told me it was time to give in and give up. We could talk and reason later, but right now I could only make things worse by trying to object. I looked at her pleadingly and meekly nodded.

“OK. First things first. I’m going to let you up and you are going to take off your pajamas. You are a very bad little boy and we are going to help take some of the bad out of you.”

I looked at Amy, then at Jill, and back at Amy. Words began to form when Amy said, “Uh, uh, uh. Unless you want me to use the stun gun again, don’t even think about talking unless I tell you to. You’re a very bad little boy and so modesty cannot be an issue for you. I’ve shown Auntie Jill your profile and many of your posts on Daily Diapers and I’ve enlisted her to help. Are you surprised that she was more than willing to help?”

While Amy was saying this, Jill had unlocked the little padlocks on the cuffs holding my wrists to the headboard of the bed. “OK, now. Stand up slowly and take off your jammies.”

Incredulous that this was happening, I slowly moved out of bed. Standing there, I removed the tee-shirt I was wearing and tossed it on the bed. After looking at the two women confronting me, I realized I wasn’t in a position to bargain or argue and my hands slowly went to the waistband of my lounge pants. When I hesitated for a moment, I saw the stun gun begin an approach toward me and decided I had little choice but to remove my pants. I could only stare at my pajama bottoms laying there on the floor, as I stood naked in front of my sister-in-law.

“You’re right, Amy. His little penis does look like just a little baby toy!” I seethed, but remained silent.

Amy said, “OK little boy, into the bathroom.” I stopped suddenly when I saw a pile of things on the lavatory counter. I was in too much shock to take it all in at once, but slowly my eyes took in my baby bottle full of water with its nipple in place, then I saw my bottle of baby oil and sitting next to it two of my disposable diapers.

“Yup, we’ve got a special treat for you this morning, don’t we!” said Amy. It was then I saw the red bag and the white hose with two separate attachments. “You’re a bad little boy and guess what? We’re going to let you take out some of the bad!”

Jill added, “We’re going to let you give yourself a nice big enema this morning and guess what!! We’re going to record it all!” I looked over to see her aiming a camera at me!

“NO! PLEASE!” I couldn’t help myself. Suddenly the stun gun touched my midsection and I thought I was going to die! I curled up in pain and nearly fell to the floor.

Amy said, “I told you to shut up! Now find your little pacifier there and strap it on!” Resigned now to the fact that I was no longer in control and that my only hope lay in cooperation, I looked at the pile of equipment on the counter, found my pacifier and put it in my mouth. When I began to fasten the strap around my head I was instructed to make it tight.

Jill kept the video going. “OK, diaperpt, now some baby oil. We really don’t want you to get a rash. Well, not today at least.”

Amy watched intently and commented as I first tentatively then more liberally according to her directions as Jill kept taping. “Now some on your bum hole, baby.” With that done, I was directed to fill the red enema bag with cold water. I was a little clumsy with it, as I’d never given myself an enema before, not even in my baby play. This was just one piece of equipment Amy and Jill had picked up on their own. I capped it and hung it on the shower rod as directed.

Next I then slid the enema nozzle into my hole, cringing at the feeling of this intruder. I bent a little to allow the nozzle to slide in with minimum pain. “Hold on to that nozzle tight with your cheeks little baby! And once we start the enema, you’ll need to keep those little baby cheeks tight to hold at that nice clean water inside you! OK, diapers next!”

This part I was very familiar with except to put the diapers on around the enema hose now trailing to the floor. I immediately noticed that the first of the diapers had already been perforated thoroughly. Though I had never given myself an enema, I’d read plenty on Daily Diapers and other sites as well as seeing videos of people getting enemas, so I knew what was coming. I finished taping the first diaper and carefully began putting on the second over the first focusing on the feeling of the pressure of the enema nozzle seated well inside my bottom.

Amy directed me to attach the enema hose to the bag carefully and re-hang it on the shower rod. She pointed out the little release clip and I let it go. I thought I’d feel an immediate flush of water into me, but because this was an inexpensive enema kit, the hose had bent and kinked in spots. I was instructed to straighten those out and even fish my hand into the leg of the diapers to straighten the hose and allow a flow. I felt a little cold suddenly at my bottom and knew the process was beginning.

I was nervous for what was to come and embarrassed to be in this position – especially with the camera taking all of this in.

“Squeeze those little cheeks! If I can tell that anything has slid out until you’ve got permission to release, we’ll do even worse to you than this!”

Believing her, I tightened as hard as I could. I was then told to release my pacifier and begin drinking my baby bottle. I was to finish the almost 20 oz bottle before the enema bag was empty. Sucking on the nipple of the baby bottle didn’t have the thrill it normally had for me with my wife and sister-in-law staring at me. I was full of embarrassment as I stood there, double diapered with cold enema water flowing into my bottom, sucking feverishly on my baby bottle.

And then, I was told to squeeze the enema bag to be sure the flow was working its way into me! As I alternately squeezed the red bag to enhance the flow into my bowels and sucked on the nipple of my oversized baby bottle, I couldn’t tell which one or both was the source of the gurgling I heard and felt inside.

I don’t know how long it took – it seemed like an eternity – but finally I’d squeezed as much out of the enema bag as I possibly could. I’d finished the bottle as well and was feeling very bloated. Jill hadn’t taped continuously, but had enough footage for me to know I was in trouble if this ever went public. She’d even stopped and made me take several still shots of myself as I looked across the bathroom into the oversized mirror. There I stood; double diapered with the huge bag in plain view and its hose leading into my diapers.

When Amy was satisfied I’d gotten as much enema as I could, she had me carefully slide the nozzle out of my bottom and out of the diapers. I was amazed that I could do it without opening the flood gates – after all, I’d taken in a good two quarts of cold water. For moments, I’d feel nothing; as if nothing had happened and I was just standing there in those two diapers. Every once in a while though, a cramp would hit me reminding me that there was a whole lot inside me aching to get out!

“OK now, diaperpt, you’re going to prepare for the next phase later on.” With that, I was made to waddle carefully out through the bedroom to my closet where the bags of my diaper supplies waited for me on the floor. Holding my cheeks tight to avoid letting the enema loose was hard enough until I actually saw the proof that Amy had found my stash of diaper supplies.

“We took the liberty of getting this stuff out for you. Now, you know how you get yourself diapered; set it out on the bed now for later on after you get yourself cleaned up.”

I knew they had me and so I went to the bags and got out the two pair of plastic panties I usually wore and set them on the bed. Next I dug out a set of diapers; first the all-in-ones that snap together, one of the larger white cloth diapers I’d made for myself several years earlier and a smaller one as a liner. I knew better than try to short cut on this, especially if the two women had seen my pictures on any of the sites!

“Use the locking pins today. I think they’d be cute,” said Jill and so I set out the pins as directed. “Don’t forget your onesie…or for that matter your cute little bra and fake boobies,” referring to one of Amy’s old bra’s I’d saved out of the trash when she was throwing them out. I laid it all out as directed, including the baby powder.

As I focused on this, I began to feel an involuntary squish of cold water hitting my diaper. I must have flinched, because Amy reacted. “OK, you can let some out, but try to hold it a little longer. You’re a big baby, but you can do it!”

I felt the flow into the diaper and with Amy’s permission to release a little, tried to monitor the escape of the enema water. A little cold water slipped out and I’d try to clamp shut to give it time to be absorbed into the diaper. I was standing in the middle of our bedroom carpet and was afraid that if I let go, the enema would gush out of my diapers and ruin the carpet. I was in enough trouble already, without adding that to the mix! Thankfully, with my diaper stuff ready ‘for later’ I was directed back to the bathroom. As I walked onto the tiled floor, I lurched as a sudden flow of hot effluent escaped into my diapers. Intuitively I realized this was not simply the cold water from the enema bag but a mix now of my own #%@$ mixed with the water.

While I’d pooped my diapers before, this was a new, scary and icky feeling. The two women saw my look and laughed. “OK, little diaper boy, let out all that bad stuff in you. Let it start.”

While I didn’t like the idea of my poop draining into the diapers and covering me, the cramps had gotten worse and I wanted all the enema out of me. It wasn’t that simple though, as a flood would come and the cramps subside. Then nothing for a while until cramps would build again signaling yet another flood. I worried as I pictured a flood of brown water dripping down my legs onto the floor. Instead, the diapers took all my bottom could deliver. I felt the diapers sag and sensed the pool of crap gathering.

“Dirty little diaper boys like the feeling of their mushy poop in their diapers. Show us how you like it, diaperpt. We’ve seen some of the videos you’ve found on youtube – smoosh that poop around! Mush that diaper into your backside! That’s the way!! OK, now squish it forward too! When you are all done and allowed to take off your diapers we want to see all the poop smooshed all around your whole diaper area! And we want to make sure you’ve used both diapers well!”

I felt dirty and disgusting as I kneaded the diapers and felt the mix of solids and liquids smoosh all over me – the hot liquid crept up and around my scrotum filling every crack and crevice it could find. Still, I did as I was told and I could see a wet brown arc beginning to rise on the front of my diaper. The women continued to laugh and encourage me to spread the contents of my diapers even more. Thankfully, I was finally told to step into the shower stall and when I started dripping after being told to squish my diaper yet more, we were all happy I was safe inside the shower stall.

Recording much of this on the camera, they also stopped and had me take more still shots of myself in the mirror. This continued until I felt both very empty, but very near dripping more out into my already very full diapers. They made me drink another full bottle of water as I waited to be completely empty.

Finally the women decided I must be empty and it was time to remove my diapers. They produced a wastebasket lined with double plastic bags and I was ‘allowed’ to remove one diaper, then the other slowly allowing them to record the proceedings. They were both very impressed with what they saw, telling me a lot of the bad little boy had come out into my diapers. I had to turn slowly for them to examine and record how well I’d spread the enema results over me.

Finally, I was allowed to turn on the shower and begin the disgusting task of washing myself. The shower alone initiated a river of brown down my legs, but I had to use my bare hands to get everything out of the creases of my body. I won’t go into more detail as it may be more than you can stand to read. It certainly was close to more than I could stand. As I began to feel a little more human, my spirits buoyed a little until I remembered that this was not the end; there were two vindictive women outside the shower stall and a pile of diapers waiting for me out in the bedroom.

I tried to make the shower last, but Amy cut it short and told me to get out and dry off. Mercifully she let me sit on the toilet for a short time, as there was more yet to come out of me. “Get it all out, little boy. You don’t want to squirt into your nice little cloth diapers, do you?”

I sensed this was a rhetorical question and wasn’t in any mood to be talking about my diapers anyway! I finished drying off and as instructed, carefully applied more baby oil before being led back into the bedroom.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea, Jill,” said Amy. “Why don’t we have the little diaper boy put on a pair of those little sissy girl panties he has hidden in the bottom of his drawer? That way it’ll be even more incentive for him to hold any last dribbles of poop he’s got in him!”

“Great idea, Amy! OK little sissy baby, you heard her! Let’s see what you can find.”

I began to realize there was nothing left to the secrecy of any of my fetish activity. Jill had found my activity on Daily Diapers, she’d found my stash of baby stuff and now I found out she knew about my sissy panty collection as well. Resigned, I went to my dresser and opened the drawer only to have Amy reach down under the pile of shirts and pull up a pair of black Victoria Secret silk panties. “These will be great! Put ‘em on, you little sissy boy!”

The physical feeling of the panties sliding up my legs still felt the same as always, but instead of feeling delicious, they felt naughty and almost evil. Sliding them into place the usual feeling of comfort was overtaken by shame and embarrassment. When I’d put on ‘my’ bra and stuffed it with the socks I was accustomed to using to fill out the cups, I was totally humiliated. The women’s amusement and comments of what a cute little sissy boy I was only added to my feelings. After taking more still pictures of myself, I was recording as I lay on the thick pile of diapers, pulled them tightly up over the little black Victoria Secret panties and pinned and locked them on. Not a bit of the action escaped recording as Jill captured me snapping the all-in-one, then sliding up each pair of diaper panties – the pink plastic panties then the patterned cloth over plastic pair – up my legs and wiggled over the very thick bundle of diaper cloth.

With my onesie all snapped up, I was then directed downstairs to our office where I was directed to my computer – my Daily Diaper profile page staring at me. I was then directed to begin my story. Here it is. As I’ve typed, I’ve been told to either have my bottle or my pacifier in my mouth. If I didn’t drink enough, I was told to stop typing and nurse from my baby bottle. Thankfully so far, my bottom has not betrayed me. I’d been paranoid that I’d feel a sudden escape from my bottom and my cute little black panties would catch a nasty stain of poop. This kept my mind from the inevitability of peeing. When my bladder reminded me of that inevitability, I tried to hold back.

Finally I could hold no longer and I wet my cute little black panties. Of course the pee was quickly absorbed into the efficient cloth of my thick diapers, but the panties retained moisture and pressed against me reminding me that I’d peed a pair of panties which had been very special to me on those days I’d wear a pair to work. Now I’m very wet and beginning to worry about leaking pee out onto the desk chair. Ahhh…thankfully Amy has come into the office and looking over my shoulder has read of my concern. She’s had me stand up so she could snake a finger in past my onesie, under my plastic panties and has felt how wet I am. I am to finish this section and then she’ll allow me a change.

Believe me, this is NOT how I’d planned on spending this day – or any day. I wanted to keep this diaper fetish – and my panty fetish as well – my own secret. I always had feared what would happen if Amy ever found out about me. As she’d threatened earlier, I knew divorce was a strong possibility. I’d never bothered considering that she might actually tell others, let alone take video and pictures of me involved in this activity. I still have no idea what is to come.

Right now, all I know is that I’m in serious trouble and my only hope is to cooperate – at least for now – and let things play out. I believe her that she would tell my family, coworkers and bosses. I can tell when she’s serious and when she’s bluffing. There has been NO sign of bluff in anything she’s said today. I’m in BIG trouble. Thankfully, I’m going to be allowed a change now and again, at least for now, won’t be humiliated by being made to leak out of my diapers. I’m losing track of how many bottles I’ve had to drink and I don’t know what’s going to happen after I’m changed, but I sense this isn’t the last of this story.

The Diary of a bad boy

Part One

On a Saturday morning a while ago, I woke up to my wife standing over me. She had a big grin on her face. “You’ve been a bad boy. A very bad boy.”

I was being hopeful that maybe this was an introduction to some good morning sex; so I smiled back. “Well, if I’ve been bad, what are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” she said. That’s about when I felt the cuffs on my hands attached to the top of the bed. I got a little scared and a little excited at the same time. I had no idea where the cuffs could have come from – none of this was anything we’d ever even talked about doing before. “Where did you get these, hmm?” I tried to sound sexy.

She laughed and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know! Don’t worry; there’s more to come, but don’t bother to sound sexy. You look and sound like you think I’m kidding. You are a bad boy. You are a very bad, very little boy and today is going to be a treat for me at least. You may enjoy the fitting punishment I have in mind or you may not, but one thing is very clear. I’m onto you now and today is going to be first of many days like it. You see, you left your computer out last Friday night. When I got up on Saturday morning, I decided to log onto my email on your computer rather than power up mine. What a surprise! I had no idea that there were otherwise normal adults who wore diapers!”

I immediately reddened. I’d been discovered. “Honey,” I said, “honest, I’ve never been on that site before! I just stumbled on it and couldn’t believe it myself.”

She interrupted, “Don’t give me that, diaperpt! Did you forget that you just stay logged on? Did you think I didn’t find your profile there and some of those cute little pictures of yourself?”

I reddened even more and this time I kept silent. Amy said, “Well, diaperpt, what do you have to say for yourself now?”

In a very sincere, contrite voice, I said, “I’m so sorry, Amy. I never meant anything by this. I can stop. I’ll never go on that site again. It’s just…”

“Oh, shut up! You’re just sorry I caught you. Are you thinking I didn’t go digging further on Daily Diapers? And did you honestly think you’d hidden your diapers and other baby stuff so I would never find it? Of course I went looking and found your stuff!”

“I’ll stop! I’ll throw it all away. I don’t need it. I’ve got you. I’m so, so sorry, Amy.”

“No, little boy. You won’t throw it away. At least not for now. Today, we’re going to have some fun. I’ve got this little stun gun and you are going to cooperate fully. I’m hoping I won’t need to use the stun gun, but I will if I need to. You see, if you don’t cooperate, not only am I throwing you out on your ear and divorcing you, but I’ll let all our friends and all your work associates what’s been going on. I mean it, too. Just so you now I mean business, Jill? Jill, will you come in now? It’s time for our little boy to get up and start his day!”

I looked up to see Amy’s sister Jill walk into our bedroom with a grin even a little wider than Amy’s. She looked at me and said, “Oh little diaperpt, you look appropriately worried! Try to relax, though. We’re just going to help your fantasy come true, little one. Shall we get him started, Amy?”

Without even thinking, I started to try to reason, “Please, Amy. Please, we can talk this… OWWWW!” The stun gun touched my left arm and a burning sensation ripped through me.

“Baby, Mommy and Auntie are in charge now. Did you forget what I said? If you don’t cooperate, you’re history with me, your friends, your job…and pretty much your whole life. I don’t know who would support you, but I suppose you could live your little aby life somewhere on your own. Now I don’t want to hear another word out of you! Get it? Nod your head…don’t you DARE speak!”

Her voice had grown harsh and I knew she meant business. Wisdom borne of ten years of marriage to Amy told me it was time to give in and give up. We could talk and reason later, but right now I could only make things worse by trying to object. I looked at her pleadingly and meekly nodded.

“OK. First things first. I’m going to let you up and you are going to take off your pajamas. You are a very bad little boy and we are going to help take some of the bad out of you.”

I looked at Amy, then at Jill, and back at Amy. Words began to form when Amy said, “Uh, uh, uh. Unless you want me to use the stun gun again, don’t even think about talking unless I tell you to. You’re a very bad little boy and so modesty cannot be an issue for you. I’ve shown Auntie Jill your profile and many of your posts on Daily Diapers and I’ve enlisted her to help. Are you surprised that she was more than willing to help?”

While Amy was saying this, Jill had unlocked the little padlocks on the cuffs holding my wrists to the headboard of the bed. “OK, now. Stand up slowly and take off your jammies.”

Incredulous that this was happening, I slowly moved out of bed. Standing there, I removed the tee-shirt I was wearing and tossed it on the bed. After looking at the two women confronting me, I realized I wasn’t in a position to bargain or argue and my hands slowly went to the waistband of my lounge pants. When I hesitated for a moment, I saw the stun gun begin an approach toward me and decided I had little choice but to remove my pants. I could only stare at my pajama bottoms laying there on the floor, as I stood naked in front of my sister-in-law.

“You’re right, Amy. His little penis does look like just a little baby toy!” I seethed, but remained silent.

Amy said, “OK little boy, into the bathroom.” I stopped suddenly when I saw a pile of things on the lavatory counter. I was in too much shock to take it all in at once, but slowly my eyes took in my baby bottle full of water with its nipple in place, then I saw my bottle of baby oil and sitting next to it two of my disposable diapers.

“Yup, we’ve got a special treat for you this morning, don’t we!” said Amy. It was then I saw the red bag and the white hose with two separate attachments. “You’re a bad little boy and guess what? We’re going to let you take out some of the bad!”

Jill added, “We’re going to let you give yourself a nice big enema this morning and guess what!! We’re going to record it all!” I looked over to see her aiming a camera at me!

“NO! PLEASE!” I couldn’t help myself. Suddenly the stun gun touched my midsection and I thought I was going to die! I curled up in pain and nearly fell to the floor.

Amy said, “I told you to shut up! Now find your little pacifier there and strap it on!” Resigned now to the fact that I was no longer in control and that my only hope lay in cooperation, I looked at the pile of equipment on the counter, found my pacifier and put it in my mouth. When I began to fasten the strap around my head I was instructed to make it tight.

Jill kept the video going. “OK, diaperpt, now some baby oil. We really don’t want you to get a rash. Well, not today at least.”

Amy watched intently and commented as I first tentatively then more liberally according to her directions as Jill kept taping. “Now some on your bum hole, baby.” With that done, I was directed to fill the red enema bag with cold water. I was a little clumsy with it, as I’d never given myself an enema before, not even in my baby play. This was just one piece of equipment Amy and Jill had picked up on their own. I capped it and hung it on the shower rod as directed.

Next I then slid the enema nozzle into my hole, cringing at the feeling of this intruder. I bent a little to allow the nozzle to slide in with minimum pain. “Hold on to that nozzle tight with your cheeks little baby! And once we start the enema, you’ll need to keep those little baby cheeks tight to hold at that nice clean water inside you! OK, diapers next!”

This part I was very familiar with except to put the diapers on around the enema hose now trailing to the floor. I immediately noticed that the first of the diapers had already been perforated thoroughly. Though I had never given myself an enema, I’d read plenty on Daily Diapers and other sites as well as seeing videos of people getting enemas, so I knew what was coming. I finished taping the first diaper and carefully began putting on the second over the first focusing on the feeling of the pressure of the enema nozzle seated well inside my bottom.

Amy directed me to attach the enema hose to the bag carefully and re-hang it on the shower rod. She pointed out the little release clip and I let it go. I thought I’d feel an immediate flush of water into me, but because this was an inexpensive enema kit, the hose had bent and kinked in spots. I was instructed to straighten those out and even fish my hand into the leg of the diapers to straighten the hose and allow a flow. I felt a little cold suddenly at my bottom and knew the process was beginning.

I was nervous for what was to come and embarrassed to be in this position – especially with the camera taking all of this in.

“Squeeze those little cheeks! If I can tell that anything has slid out until you’ve got permission to release, we’ll do even worse to you than this!”

Believing her, I tightened as hard as I could. I was then told to release my pacifier and begin drinking my baby bottle. I was to finish the almost 20 oz bottle before the enema bag was empty. Sucking on the nipple of the baby bottle didn’t have the thrill it normally had for me with my wife and sister-in-law staring at me. I was full of embarrassment as I stood there, double diapered with cold enema water flowing into my bottom, sucking feverishly on my baby bottle.

And then, I was told to squeeze the enema bag to be sure the flow was working its way into me! As I alternately squeezed the red bag to enhance the flow into my bowels and sucked on the nipple of my oversized baby bottle, I couldn’t tell which one or both was the source of the gurgling I heard and felt inside.

I don’t know how long it took – it seemed like an eternity – but finally I’d squeezed as much out of the enema bag as I possibly could. I’d finished the bottle as well and was feeling very bloated. Jill hadn’t taped continuously, but had enough footage for me to know I was in trouble if this ever went public. She’d even stopped and made me take several still shots of myself as I looked across the bathroom into the oversized mirror. There I stood; double diapered with the huge bag in plain view and its hose leading into my diapers.

When Amy was satisfied I’d gotten as much enema as I could, she had me carefully slide the nozzle out of my bottom and out of the diapers. I was amazed that I could do it without opening the flood gates – after all, I’d taken in a good two quarts of cold water. For moments, I’d feel nothing; as if nothing had happened and I was just standing there in those two diapers. Every once in a while though, a cramp would hit me reminding me that there was a whole lot inside me aching to get out!

“OK now, diaperpt, you’re going to prepare for the next phase later on.” With that, I was made to waddle carefully out through the bedroom to my closet where the bags of my diaper supplies waited for me on the floor. Holding my cheeks tight to avoid letting the enema loose was hard enough until I actually saw the proof that Amy had found my stash of diaper supplies.

“We took the liberty of getting this stuff out for you. Now, you know how you get yourself diapered; set it out on the bed now for later on after you get yourself cleaned up.”

I knew they had me and so I went to the bags and got out the two pair of plastic panties I usually wore and set them on the bed. Next I dug out a set of diapers; first the all-in-ones that snap together, one of the larger white cloth diapers I’d made for myself several years earlier and a smaller one as a liner. I knew better than try to short cut on this, especially if the two women had seen my pictures on any of the sites!

“Use the locking pins today. I think they’d be cute,” said Jill and so I set out the pins as directed. “Don’t forget your onesie…or for that matter your cute little bra and fake boobies,” referring to one of Amy’s old bra’s I’d saved out of the trash when she was throwing them out. I laid it all out as directed, including the baby powder.

As I focused on this, I began to feel an involuntary squish of cold water hitting my diaper. I must have flinched, because Amy reacted. “OK, you can let some out, but try to hold it a little longer. You’re a big baby, but you can do it!”

I felt the flow into the diaper and with Amy’s permission to release a little, tried to monitor the escape of the enema water. A little cold water slipped out and I’d try to clamp shut to give it time to be absorbed into the diaper. I was standing in the middle of our bedroom carpet and was afraid that if I let go, the enema would gush out of my diapers and ruin the carpet. I was in enough trouble already, without adding that to the mix! Thankfully, with my diaper stuff ready ‘for later’ I was directed back to the bathroom. As I walked onto the tiled floor, I lurched as a sudden flow of hot effluent escaped into my diapers. Intuitively I realized this was not simply the cold water from the enema bag but a mix now of my own #%@$ mixed with the water.

While I’d pooped my diapers before, this was a new, scary and icky feeling. The two women saw my look and laughed. “OK, little diaper boy, let out all that bad stuff in you. Let it start.”

While I didn’t like the idea of my poop draining into the diapers and covering me, the cramps had gotten worse and I wanted all the enema out of me. It wasn’t that simple though, as a flood would come and the cramps subside. Then nothing for a while until cramps would build again signaling yet another flood. I worried as I pictured a flood of brown water dripping down my legs onto the floor. Instead, the diapers took all my bottom could deliver. I felt the diapers sag and sensed the pool of crap gathering.

“Dirty little diaper boys like the feeling of their mushy poop in their diapers. Show us how you like it, diaperpt. We’ve seen some of the videos you’ve found on youtube – smoosh that poop around! Mush that diaper into your backside! That’s the way!! OK, now squish it forward too! When you are all done and allowed to take off your diapers we want to see all the poop smooshed all around your whole diaper area! And we want to make sure you’ve used both diapers well!”

I felt dirty and disgusting as I kneaded the diapers and felt the mix of solids and liquids smoosh all over me – the hot liquid crept up and around my scrotum filling every crack and crevice it could find. Still, I did as I was told and I could see a wet brown arc beginning to rise on the front of my diaper. The women continued to laugh and encourage me to spread the contents of my diapers even more. Thankfully, I was finally told to step into the shower stall and when I started dripping after being told to squish my diaper yet more, we were all happy I was safe inside the shower stall.

Recording much of this on the camera, they also stopped and had me take more still shots of myself in the mirror. This continued until I felt both very empty, but very near dripping more out into my already very full diapers. They made me drink another full bottle of water as I waited to be completely empty.

Finally the women decided I must be empty and it was time to remove my diapers. They produced a wastebasket lined with double plastic bags and I was ‘allowed’ to remove one diaper, then the other slowly allowing them to record the proceedings. They were both very impressed with what they saw, telling me a lot of the bad little boy had come out into my diapers. I had to turn slowly for them to examine and record how well I’d spread the enema results over me.

Finally, I was allowed to turn on the shower and begin the disgusting task of washing myself. The shower alone initiated a river of brown down my legs, but I had to use my bare hands to get everything out of the creases of my body. I won’t go into more detail as it may be more than you can stand to read. It certainly was close to more than I could stand. As I began to feel a little more human, my spirits buoyed a little until I remembered that this was not the end; there were two vindictive women outside the shower stall and a pile of diapers waiting for me out in the bedroom.

I tried to make the shower last, but Amy cut it short and told me to get out and dry off. Mercifully she let me sit on the toilet for a short time, as there was more yet to come out of me. “Get it all out, little boy. You don’t want to squirt into your nice little cloth diapers, do you?”

I sensed this was a rhetorical question and wasn’t in any mood to be talking about my diapers anyway! I finished drying off and as instructed, carefully applied more baby oil before being led back into the bedroom.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea, Jill,” said Amy. “Why don’t we have the little diaper boy put on a pair of those little sissy girl panties he has hidden in the bottom of his drawer? That way it’ll be even more incentive for him to hold any last dribbles of poop he’s got in him!”

“Great idea, Amy! OK little sissy baby, you heard her! Let’s see what you can find.”

I began to realize there was nothing left to the secrecy of any of my fetish activity. Jill had found my activity on Daily Diapers, she’d found my stash of baby stuff and now I found out she knew about my sissy panty collection as well. Resigned, I went to my dresser and opened the drawer only to have Amy reach down under the pile of shirts and pull up a pair of black Victoria Secret silk panties. “These will be great! Put ‘em on, you little sissy boy!”

The physical feeling of the panties sliding up my legs still felt the same as always, but instead of feeling delicious, they felt naughty and almost evil. Sliding them into place the usual feeling of comfort was overtaken by shame and embarrassment. When I’d put on ‘my’ bra and stuffed it with the socks I was accustomed to using to fill out the cups, I was totally humiliated. The women’s amusement and comments of what a cute little sissy boy I was only added to my feelings. After taking more still pictures of myself, I was recording as I lay on the thick pile of diapers, pulled them tightly up over the little black Victoria Secret panties and pinned and locked them on. Not a bit of the action escaped recording as Jill captured me snapping the all-in-one, then sliding up each pair of diaper panties – the pink plastic panties then the patterned cloth over plastic pair – up my legs and wiggled over the very thick bundle of diaper cloth.

With my onesie all snapped up, I was then directed downstairs to our office where I was directed to my computer – my Daily Diaper profile page staring at me. I was then directed to begin my story. Here it is. As I’ve typed, I’ve been told to either have my bottle or my pacifier in my mouth. If I didn’t drink enough, I was told to stop typing and nurse from my baby bottle. Thankfully so far, my bottom has not betrayed me. I’d been paranoid that I’d feel a sudden escape from my bottom and my cute little black panties would catch a nasty stain of poop. This kept my mind from the inevitability of peeing. When my bladder reminded me of that inevitability, I tried to hold back.

Finally I could hold no longer and I wet my cute little black panties. Of course the pee was quickly absorbed into the efficient cloth of my thick diapers, but the panties retained moisture and pressed against me reminding me that I’d peed a pair of panties which had been very special to me on those days I’d wear a pair to work. Now I’m very wet and beginning to worry about leaking pee out onto the desk chair. Ahhh…thankfully Amy has come into the office and looking over my shoulder has read of my concern. She’s had me stand up so she could snake a finger in past my onesie, under my plastic panties and has felt how wet I am. I am to finish this section and then she’ll allow me a change.

Believe me, this is NOT how I’d planned on spending this day – or any day. I wanted to keep this diaper fetish – and my panty fetish as well – my own secret. I always had feared what would happen if Amy ever found out about me. As she’d threatened earlier, I knew divorce was a strong possibility. I’d never bothered considering that she might actually tell others, let alone take video and pictures of me involved in this activity. I still have no idea what is to come.

Right now, all I know is that I’m in serious trouble and my only hope is to cooperate – at least for now – and let things play out. I believe her that she would tell my family, coworkers and bosses. I can tell when she’s serious and when she’s bluffing. There has been NO sign of bluff in anything she’s said today. I’m in BIG trouble. Thankfully, I’m going to be allowed a change now and again, at least for now, won’t be humiliated by being made to leak out of my diapers. I’m losing track of how many bottles I’ve had to drink and I don’t know what’s going to happen after I’m changed, but I sense this isn’t the last of this story.

Link to comment

I'm a little disappointed with the lack of response, but I do understand that many people are turned off by the scat in that first section. The rest of the story calms down considerably and I hope this second part gets a little better reaction. I'm not the greatest writer. Certainly not like so many others here, but I'm hoping this story will begin to appeal to others. I've got several parts written already and if there is interest, will continue to post. ...or maybe I'll just post more as I go along for my own satisfaction.

Let me know what you think, even if you don't like it.

Part Two: Later Saturday

Well, I’m back. I’m not even sure how I feel about all that’s happened and continues to happen. I’m too shocked. I never in the world thought I’d be found out. I was positive that if Amy ever did find out, she’d throw a fit and insist I leave immediately. Instead, here I am for now, in thick DRY diapers – not by my wishes but at the insistence of her and her sister Jill.

For the record, while in part one I said I wouldn’t be humiliated by leaking out of my diapers, I had been wrong. In fact there wasn’t a square inch of dry diaper cloth on me and when I stood up from my computer, there were two wet moons staring back at me from the chair. Believe me, I was humiliated even by the thought of having leaked, but Amy and Jill made sure to make my humiliation complete. I was berated as I was made to wipe clean the mess I’d made.

“Sissy boy, bad boy, dirty little diaper boy, sissy diaper boy, bad little baby,” and other labels that just blended together flew at me as I was cleaned the chair then was directed back upstairs for a change. I was berated for getting my onesie wet as well. While parts of my change were put on video, Amy insisted on unlocking my diaper pins herself and so this was not captured. She said I’d better get used to her locking and locking those diaper pins. As today was to be just the first day of the way things would be now.

It was a strange feeling for me as I allowed my sodden diapers to fall away from me. I’d almost forgotten about my sweet little Victoria Secret panties and now my own stale urine made those panties maintain their wet kiss of my skin. As the diaper fell, I was surprised to feel the clinging wetness of the panties. When I looked, I sank just a little further in despair. I carefully peeled the panties down my legs and let them fall into the heap of soaked diapers.

Now, since I last wrote, we’ve all been busy. I was made to change my diapers – locked by Amy of course. The two women watched intently for the second time, this time directing me to add clouds of baby powder which still now reminds me that I’m dressed as a baby as directed by my wife and her sister.

What had been my personal fetish has been co-opted and now I’m sitting here in an increasingly damp diaper not for my own pleasure but for that of my wife. (Right. When I began this part of my story, I said I was in thick Dry Diapers. Well, with all the water I’d been made to drink, is it any wonder I wasn’t able to hold it in much longer than it took me to type those words!)

Well, anyway, while I was directed to clean up the mess of my wet diapers, put away the enema equipment and clean up the entire bathroom, Amy and Jill have taken the video and still pictures of me and have put them onto Amy’s laptop. I’ve been told that she is going to have me load the stills onto Daily Diapers with my face blurred, but she will keep the video and original stills so that I never have any thought of not obeying her.

Now as I continue the narration of today’s activities and as I pee yet again into my diapers, I marvel at how different wetting feels now that it isn’t my own idea to be dressed like this. Somehow it’s less excited; less stimulating; it’s now embarrassing and degrading. After having read all the diaper stories I’ve enjoyed over the years, the humiliation is happening to me – for real. Instead of reading and imagining what it might be like to be made to wear diapers, I’ve been living it today.

As I’m typing this, Amy is finishing the work of transferring the video and stills and getting them ready for me to send to Daily Diapers. Jill is working on her computer as well, investigating some of the businesses advertised and linked to Daily Diapers. “Hey, Amy, you ought to see these cute Bambino diapers! We thought those Attends that little diaperpt has were pretty special, but these are adorable. I think we ought to get him some of those.”

“Jill,” Amy interrupted, “don’t give away all our secrets! Just go ahead and order some of the stuff we’d talked about. We’ll talk more as we go along, but we don’t want this naughty little boy knowing all our plans! “

After writing this much of my story, I was taken back upstairs and this time changed by Amy. She made me stand perfectly still while she undid my onesie and removed my diapers. She roughly wiped my diaper area and had me lie down on a fresh stack of cloth diapers. The feeling of the diapers being pulled up between my legs and being pinned tightly by someone else – something I’d fantasized about for so long – somehow made me feel foolish and embarrassed. I tried not to look up at Amy’s face, but knowing it was my wife doing this to me – as a punishment – was almost more than I could take. I’d envied those who wrote in the forums about their wives participating in their fetish; I’d wished that somehow Amy could accept my diapers and at least let me wear from time to time. I’d never imagined that she might someday actually put me in a diaper. Now that she was doing it, I was sure I didn’t want it.

I’d give anything to be in my regular underwear and for my entire stash of diaper supplies and panties to be just a distant memory. I’d give anything to have the uneven, but basically stable relationship with my wife back. I was beginning to realize that this was now the impossible dream. Apparently, I was not going back to my marriage as I knew it. In fact, it seemed certain now that none of my life was going to be as it had been.

Later, I was made to wash my dirty diapers and was put into one of my Attends. I was allowed a short tee shirt but wore only that and my diaper while the washing machine and dryer did their work. Amy, Jill and I ate dinner at the table – me in just my diapers and tee shirt and drinking from my bottle.

After dinner, the three of us went back up to the bedroom with a trash bag. All my clean underwear – well, my men’s underwear – were put into the trash bag and set aside to go to the Salvation Army bin. Amy explained to me that from now on, I’d either be in my sissy girl panties or diapers. As long as we were together, I’d never need “silly big boy panties” as she called them.

When my diaper laundry was done, I was put back into thick cloth diapers with my onesie over the top of them and I was directed to bed where my hands were locked to the headboard as I discovered them this morning when I woke. My pacifier was strapped in my mouth and at 7:30 pm, I was left to my own thoughts as Jill and Amy shut off the light and closed the door. The house was silent except for their giggles as they went downstairs to make more plans for their new bad boy.

It was a long time before I could fall asleep and I’d already wet once before I was able to drift off to an uncomfortable night. It was hard for me to wet lying down in bed, but I also knew I had better start adapting. I woke several times during the night, feeling the pressure of my bladder. With my hands bound above my head, I could only roll a little.

In real life, I’d only worn diapers to bed once or twice when Amy was away overnight. At those times, I’d had to get up out of bed in order to pee in my diaper. I’d tried starting to pee and then lying down quickly, but the stream would stop and I’d have to stand again to pee. Now I had the urgency, but there was no way I could stand up. I ended up lying there in bed trying to force myself to pee. Finally, I worked at relaxing enough to let a flow start. It would start, then stop, and I’d have to work at relaxing again to relieve the pressure. The warm pee flowing into my diaper felt stranger than it ever had before in my fantasies. On one level, the release felt so good. But on another level, I felt dirty for ever having wanted to do this and I felt embarrassed and humiliated for being forced to do this.

Once during the night, as I was experiencing a hard time trying to relieve myself into the thick, thick diapers I wore, I found I could roll out of bed into a kneeling position with my arms stretched out. It was uncomfortable, but it allowed me to pee without struggling. Unfortunately, Amy roused from her sleep as I knelt by the side of the bed. “What do you think you are doing? You aren’t to get out of bed for any reason! Now roll yourself right back into bed, you bad little boy!”

I looked at her pleadingly but could say nothing as my pacifier was strapped in tightly. I tried to make pleading noises to somehow convey my distress. “You wanted diapers, so now you’ve got them! Get used to peeing in them whenever you need to, wherever you are and in whatever position you happen to be in at the time. And you’d better stop disturbing my sleep!”

She rolled out of bed herself and moving to her closet, said, “I’ve got something that will help you with this problem.” Unfortunately, when she returned from rummaging in her closet, it wasn’t a solution I wanted! She pulled the covers out from the bottom of my side of the bed and soon had my ankles bound to the foot of the bed with a second set of restraints. Now with both my arms and ankles restrained, I could not move from the position Amy put me in – lying flat on my back. I thought I’d been uncomfortable before! It was little consolation that as the night wore on, I did begin to find it slightly easier to release my urine and further wet my diapers.

Each time I woke, I’d wonder if my diapers could handle another wetting. In my uncomfortable position, I couldn’t void my entire bladder anyway which was a blessing and a curse; a blessing because I never flooded my diapers all at once and so they had a chance to absorb what I dribbled out; a curse because I kept waking up feeling an urgency to pee.

I thought the night would never end, but gradually I began to sense the sky beginning to brighten. I slept fitfully and at some point would have just gotten up for the day, if I hadn’t been restrained. Finally the night did end and the next day began, but that’s for later. I guess I’ll continue my story when I’m told to.

Link to comment

Thanks for the comments! I really do need the positive strokes to continue posting. I'm hoping more people will give the story a chance, though I do see why part 1 turns off a bunch of people. The beginning was inspired by a day at home by myself when I did the enema thing myself and imagined and wrote part 1 as I went through my day.

Now, I'm just following my nose on where the story is going. It's based ever so slightly in what I might even wish for myself if I had more courage. At the same time, I'm sure this is NOT the reaction my wife would have...(my stuff would be unceremoniously dumped on the lawn, I suspect!)

So here's the next part. Let me know what you think!

Part 3: Sunday

I continued to drift from fitful sleep to a semi-wakeful state. At some point I realized that Amy had gotten up and left the bedroom. Later I could hear sounds drifting up from the kitchen and I assumed Amy was having her morning coffee and going through her usual weekend routines.

My thoughts drifted back over the last 24 hours – I’d been discovered for my love of diapers and I’d been punished in any number of ways. I’d been threatened with disclosure of my fetish and told I’d be made to wear either sissy panties or diapers from now on. Even so, I thought that this was probably just for effect. I effectively blocked the things I’d been told and convinced myself that this was only a temporary punishment. I expected that any time now, Amy would appear and let me up from the bed.

She’d been mad at me before for any number of reasons but she’d never held a grudge. She always came around within a day or two and we’d talk things out. Often, things were truly my fault and she’d force me to see that. Other times, she’d been in a bad mood and would end up apologizing to me. Either way, our fights never lasted long. We were always good at straightening things out between us within at most a day.

Of course, we had a lot to talk about. I was really ready to get rid of all my diaper stash and stop wearing forever if that’s what it would take to put our relationship back together. Amy meant more to me than diapers and I’d been foolish to think I could have both. I was ready to make amends and so I waited patiently for her to come back upstairs.

Finally, I heard her steps on the stairs. As she entered the room, I began to have doubts about her readiness to make up. In one hand she held my baby bottle full of what looked like apple juice. In the other hand, she carried the stun gun. She smiled at me, restoring a little hope, but her words cut away at that hope.

“Here’s your breakfast ba-ba, my bad little boy. I’m going to free up your hands so you can hold your own bottle. Then I’m going to change your diapers. You don’t have enough cloth diapers, so I’m going to put you in a disposable for now. Don’t get any ideas, because I’ve got the stun gun with me and I’ll use it at the slightest provocation. Nod if you’re willing to cooperate.”

I had little choice but to nod agreement. I could sense my diapers were within a few drops of overflowing into my plastic panties and in the mood Amy was showing so far, I feared what might happen if I leaked out onto the sheets. I was very hungry and even the promise of apple juice sounded good for now. At any rate, in order for me to drink, the pacifier would have to be removed and I could plead my case with Amy.

She carefully unlocked the wrist restraints with the stun gun within easy reach if I were to try anything. Wisely, I chose not to anger her with threats of physical retaliation. Instead I waited patiently to be able to speak and reason with her. Handing me the bottle, she then set out to release my pacifier gag.

“There, little boy, drink your ba-ba. I’m going to release your legs, too, but don’t think I won’t use the stun gun and remember also that my sister and I both have copies of the video and stills we took yesterday. Any hint of lack of cooperation on your part and either one of us will release those pictures to your boss, your friends and your family. Is that something you want to risk?”

Now that the pacifier was out of my mouth, I responded, “I’m so sorry, Amy. I deserve all you’ve done. I really do. I’m so sorry. I’m ready to talk this all out. We can make a fresh start in our relationship. You’ve shown me how foolish and disgusting it is to wear diapers. I know you’re upset, but we can get past this. Let’s just talk.”

She looked down at me and smiled a gentle smile but said, “Oh, you silly little boy. I’ve given this lots of thought. You’ve deserved all I’ve done, but there’s still so much more to come. This IS going to be a fresh start on our relationship. I’m not going to kick you out, but things are definitely going to be different from here on out. You can’t even imagine where this is all headed. Frankly, neither can I, but with the help of Dailydiapers.com and maybe a few other sites I’ve been finding on the web, I’m sure we’re going to have a fantastic new relationship! Well, I’m not sure whether you’ll like it or not, but that’s irrelevant. I’m in charge now. I’m the Mommy and I’m making ALL the rules! Now relax and drink your ba-ba while I get you cleaned up.”

“Amy, please. I can change. I can be different. Let’s just talk…”

Quickly the smile had disappeared from her face and the stun gun was being pressed against my thigh just below my diapers. “One more word and you’ll get it. You’ve got your pacifier out ONLY to drink your ba-ba. NO MORE TALK! Drink your ba-ba and let me clean you up.”

“But…AAIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH” I shook with pain as the jolt of the stun gun seared through me. The bottle dropped from my hands and I felt myself void yet again into the very sodden diapers.

“Now, baby, any more to say?” Amy said with a twisted smile on her face. Knowing better than to press any further at this time, I fumbled for the bottle and drew it to my lips. As I began nursing, she assembled changing supplies on the edge of the bed. Without releasing my ankles, she slid a large plastic sheet under my midsection. Gently she peeled back the plastic panties. “Wow! You’ve really soaked these diapers, little one!”

Before drawing down the plastic panties, she worked a large plastic sheet under me to help keep the bed sheets dry. All the while she worked at changing my diapers, she kept a humiliating patter going.

“Don’t you worry, little boy, Mommy is going to take care of you. You can’t help it if you are a pissy, dirty little boy. We’ll get you all cleaned up and in a fresh clean diaper even if you’re just going to pee in it again. Bad little boys, like you need to be taken care of. Let me clean up around this little baby pee-pee you have. It really is tiny, isn’t it? I’m not sure you’ll ever need it again for grown up sex. After all, it never did much for me. I think all it’s good for is peeing into your diapers!...”

I wanted to plead with her, but my leg still stung from the stun gun and I wasn’t in the mood for more pain. Instead, I obediently sucked on the bottle, almost draining the contents by the time she’d finished taping the diaper on. She took the bottle away from me and fastened my wrists back into the restraints before releasing the ankle restraints and changing my plastic panties. Once a clean dry pair of plastic panties covered the disposable, she re-fastened my ankles and released my wrists so I could finish the bottle. As I continued to work on the bottle, she spoke to me softly but in the voice I knew was very serious.

“Peter, I don’t know where this is going to lead, but I’m not joking. You’ve hurt me so much not just in wearing your diapers and plastic panties, but in not being honest with me. I feel like these diapers were your mistress. I hurt so much that you snuck around behind my back and wore diapers like a little baby. From reading Dailydiapers, I know some of your friends there just wear them for comfort, some wear them because they truly need them, some wear for sexual reasons and I guess a lot of them wear for some combination of all those reasons. I don’t really get it, but for whatever reasons you’ve worn them, I am furious with you that you didn’t even try to approach me. I’m not even sure what my reaction would have been. Now it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. You’ve hurt me as much as I can be hurt and now I’m going to follow through on this.”

She continued, “I don’t even know myself where this is going, but you aren’t going to be sneaking around behind my back anymore. I’m in charge. Don’t bother apologizing; don’t bother saying how sorry you are, but do you have anything to say?”

I didn’t know exactly what to say, so I just started talking. “Amy, I am sorry. I know you don’t want to hear that. I’ve read so many posts on Dailydiapers where guys have told their significant others at the beginning of their relationship. For some of them, it worked out really great but for so many others, their partner called them basically sick perverts and broke off the relationships. Some of them even went ahead and blabbed to people about the diapers, basically ruining the lives of the people who wore.”

I continued, “There just aren’t that many people who’ve tried to explain all this to their partner after any length of time in the relationship. I didn’t even get started thinking about diapers until about ten years ago. As I started, I couldn’t imagine it was anything but a small distraction; an experiment. I never thought I’d continue with it like I have. I’d gotten to buy into the thoughts that so many others say – that diapers had become a part of their personality – that they couldn’t ever really stop long term.”

“I seriously got to love the feeling of putting on a clean diaper and wearing it – feeling the thickness around me and in my crotch. I know it sounds stupid and I don’t even understand it myself, but it just felt good. Sure, I even masturbated into a diaper now and then, but somehow it wasn’t sexual – it wasn’t a replacement for you. It was a totally different feeling. It really didn’t take away any of the feelings I’ve always had for you.”

Amy broke in, “But I feel such betrayal. I don’t care what you say, you’ve still hurt me beyond belief. If diapers is what you want out of life, I guess it was pretty lucky that it turned out this way. I’m pretty sure that if you’d approached me about wearing diapers, I’d have been one of those calling you a sicko. It probably would have been the end of our relationship. I’ll be honest with you; right now, I’m so angry and upset that I won’t kick you out. I want you to pay for this.”

She continued, “Right now, you, me and Jill are the only ones who know about this. It’s my plan not to let anyone else know either, but believe me – and I think you know me well enough – if you don’t cooperate with me, those pictures and videos will get out to all the people in your life. You’ll certainly lose your job and I suspect all your friends too. If that happens, I’m not sure if I’ll kick you out or just keep you here and punish you all the more. Is that something you want to risk?”

“Please, Amy,” I said, “I don’t want to risk anything. I’ll try my best to hang in with you. I know I have no choice, but beyond that I don’t want to lose you. I’m serious about that. I love you. I love you in spite of what you’ve done to me so far. I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost my job or if I lost you. That’s just exactly why I didn’t bring up the topic of diapers to begin with; I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“Okay, then, little boy. Here’s my plan for right now. I’ve talked this over with Jill and we’ve decided that until we can get some more supplies, we aren’t going to have you diapered for work. Instead, however, you will be dressing in a pair of your sissy panties. As long as you can keep them clean, you should have enough pairs to get through this first week. As soon as you get home, though, it’s off with the little sissy panties and into a diaper. You’ll wear a diaper, a pair of plastic panties and maybe a tee shirt from the time you come home. We’ll use your cloth diapers overnight and then after you shower in the morning get you into another pair of sissy panties for work.”

I hung my head in shame, but responded, “OK. I know I don’t have any choice. I guess I can live with this. But I am so, so sorry.”

“Oh and by the way, don’t you dare come home with dirty panties – no little cum spots, no poop trails, no damp spots. I’m not even going to explain any more than that. Just keep your cute little sissy panties clean. Got it?”

“But it’s going to be hard for me to use the bathroom with those panties on. Guys are going to either see me or figure it out. I’ll try not to have any accidents and I’m certainly not going to be playing with myself, I promise. I just don’t know if I can keep as clean as you’re saying.”

Amy responded, “Well, that’s your problem. You’re a bad little boy and I’m going to treat you like one. You like sissy panties, so you’re going to wear them. You like diapers, so you’re going to wear them. I just don’t see where the problem is; I may be in charge, but you seem to be getting just what you’ve wanted! OK, that’s it for now. I’ve talked all I want to about it for now. Finish your bottle now so I can get you set for your nap and go downstairs. I’m anxious to log back on to some of your favorite sites!”

Again, knowing how serious she was being about all this, I tried hard to cooperate and sucked the remaining contents of the baby bottle into my mouth. She re-fastened the wrist restraints and left me there in the bed. As she walked out of the room, I felt the pressure in my bladder increasing. I tried to relax and just let it flow, knowing that it was inevitable and that I’d only cause myself discomfort by trying to hold it in. I tried to remember the times when I’d diapered myself and actually enjoyed the release as my pee soaked into the softness of my diaper. Finally, I was able to release. While it continued to be a start and stop situation, it somehow seemed a little easier now. It felt good not to have such discomfort in peeing, but it still felt dirty and disgusting that I was peeing into a diaper. I didn’t understand how I could have liked the sensation before while now that I’d been discovered and forced into this situation, it felt so wrong.

I was left feeling that way as the warmth in my diaper faded and I eventually fell into a light sleep. Amy was all business the rest of the day. She’d come back in to give me a ‘lunch bottle’ and later to change me. Over the course of that Sunday, she changed me four times before evening and gave me several bottles. I can’t even tell you how many. My embarrassment and humiliation hung so heavy on me that I just lost track.

I felt so incredibly bored while I was awake. I was uncomfortable, since I couldn’t bring my arms down and had very limited motion. I just lay on my back and occasionally allowed myself to pee, feeling the urine flow over my front down into my crotch; sometimes flowing across my belly down my sides where I could almost sense the disposable leaking. Once or twice I caught myself almost enjoying my wettings, as I had before yesterday. As soon as I tried to move or thought about how full my diaper was getting, I’d remember that this was not the same old routine.

Each time I heard Amy’s footsteps approaching the room, I’d alternate between shame and looking forward to a change. I’d realize how full my diaper was; how close to leaking I must be and I’d be relieved that I was going to be changed and be put in a clean dry diaper. At the same time, I hated myself for getting into this mess. I regretted stumbling onto the diaper story so long ago – the one that caused me to drag out that old towel and fashioning it into a diaper. I regretted liking it and putting together those first crude cloth diapers I’d made for myself. I regretted every little step leading me further and further into this fetish, climbing higher and higher on the abdl ladder only to come crashing down with Amy’s discovery of my secret diaper life. Now I hated myself for allowing this all to happen. I hated myself, not so much now for getting caught, but for getting involved in diapers at all and then for the betrayal Amy now felt so acutely.

Each time she gave me a bottle, I tried to talk with her calmly. I tried to explain myself and apologize. I couldn’t help it. I was truly, truly sorry and wanted to make things better. It wasn’t just out of fear for the threats Amy had made to me – no more regular underwear – diapers at home and panties at work. No, this was nothing I hadn’t done on my own many times before. It wasn’t out of fear, but out of dread that I was losing the relationship with Amy I’d valued for so long – even in the years before we were married, we had established a kind, sharing, loving relationship.

Strangely, while Amy consistently stopped me from continuing a conversation – she threatened the stun gun and slapped me hard across the mouth twice as I tried to talk, she spoke calmly and almost gently to me. In no uncertain terms she explained that she still didn’t know where this was going, but that there was no turning back. “I really do still love you, Peter, but I’m not sure why. I’m not going to dump you, I’m not going to throw you out of the house and I won’t reveal your – I mean ‘our’ – secret unless you yourself force my hand. But I’m very, very serious. I’m in total control of our relationship. You will do exactly as you are told. Now please, don’t bother me the rest of the day with your silly apologies.”

At 6:00 p.m., she came into the room and released the ankle and wrist restraints from the bed, but fastened them back on me, with my arms behind me. She led me downstairs to the kitchen where she re-fastened the restraints to a chair. I looked across the table at the remains of her dinner plate; meatloaf, mashed potatoes and peas. In front of me was now a bowl and only by the combination of colors could I identify what it was. It was obvious she’d pureed portions of meatloaf, potatoes and peas and it was now sitting sectioned off in the bowl. She pulled a chair up next to me and began feeding me large spoonfuls of the mush. Except for the peas, it actually didn’t taste too bad – the flavor of the food remained even though the consistency – even of the mashed potatoes – was softer and mushier than the original. She really tried to be neat, but even as much as I tried also to accept all she put in my mouth, some inevitably fell into my lap or dribbled down my chin.

“Sweety, you’re doing pretty well eating your baby food. I won’t have time to do this all the time, but I thought it would be appropriate for you now and then. After all, I am in control now. You are not. If I decide to let you feed yourself, I will and if I decide to feed you myself I will, or if Jill is here and wants to feed you, she can. I want you to realize too that I’m not doing this to humiliate you – although if you’re humiliated, I really don’t care – I’m doing this to prove to you that I am in control of your life now. All done? OK, back upstairs so we can put you into your nighttime diapers and I’ll give you your bottle.”

By 7:30, I was cleaned up and into double thick cloth diapers with my pink pair of plastic panties. I was allowed a tee-shirt and then my ankles restrained to the bottom of the bed. At 8:00 Amy returned, took my now empty bottle, and fastened my wrists above my head.

The second night was not much different from the first night of my new captivity. I tossed and turned what little I could. My arms ached and my legs became stiff. My bladder would still struggle with release as I lay on my back and I would stay awake for long stretches of time waiting for my bladder to give in and drain into the waiting cloth. My thoughts would alternate between the agony of my present situation and wonder and concern about what would come tomorrow morning.

Link to comment

Thanks for your comments...they do encourage me to keep posting. I've written up to the following Saturday, combining a day here and there. From there it won't necessarily be a day to day account, but I've got some thoughts of where the story will go.

Part 4: Monday

The morning came far sooner than I’d expected. Normally on a week day, my alarm would go off at 6 p.m. Amy always got up early because she enjoyed the quiet hour before I got up. This morning, I awoke to Amy’s voice, “OK, little sleepy head, time to get up. This is going to be your new schedule. Wake up, now.”

I groaned and stretched to look over at the time on the alarm clock – 5:00 a.m. – a full hour earlier than normal. I was still groggy from my sleeplessness over the last two nights and not even the long enforced naps of each day had allowed me to make up for the lost sleep. As I lay there, I felt her finger invade the elastic leg of the diaper panties. “Your diaper is pretty wet, but I think you might make it through breakfast. Do you think you can poop now or do you want some coffee first?” She knew that coffee was often what it took to get me ‘moving’ in the morning.

Without any thought of poop, I asked very politely for some coffee. With that, she released me from the bed and led me downstairs to the kitchen where my baby bottle was waiting at my place at the table. “There’s your coffee, babydoll. Drink it all gone. Let me know when you feel you have to poop. I want you to get in the habit of pooping first thing in the morning. When you feel you’re ready, we’ll take off your dipe and let you use the big boy potty for your poop. When you’re done, you can shower all by yourself and then I’ll supervise you getting dressed. That way you’ll be all clean and set for the day.”

She continued in a surprisingly cheerful voice, “I’ve already set out your clothes for today. I thought you’d like the cute little pink panties with the built in penis sleeve. Maybe the sleeve will remind you that you’re wearing sissy panties and that your little baby penis is going back into diapers as soon as you’re home tonight. Remember too that I expect your sissy panties to be nice and clean when you come home. No stains!”

I don’t know which humiliated me more – the patter about my baby penis, panties and diapers – or that she was so matter of fact and cheerful about it all. It didn’t matter. My ears just burned and my shame grew beyond what I ever imagined possible. Still, I thought, I can pull this off. I don’t need to worry about anyone knowing about the panties any more than on any of the days before when I’d decided on my own to wear them. There was the concern about stains, but I was sure I could be careful enough to avoid any major problems. So why was I worried? I don’t know, but I was incredibly self conscious.

Finally after eating two slices of toast, which Amy had cut into little squares, and finishing my bottle of coffee, I felt the rumblings of a bowel movement. “Amy, I think I’m going to have to poop soon.” I couldn’t believe I was asking my wife for permission to use the toilet, but with the little locks on the diaper pins I couldn’t have managed to get the diaper off even if I’d had permission.

“Don’t you dare poop in that diaper! Let’s get you upstairs to the bathroom. Let’s go. Hurry, before your little poopy comes.” Kindly, gently, but still talking to me like I was four or five years old, she herded me upstairs to our bathroom. She removed my diapers and let me sit on the toilet. It took a few minutes to actually poop and Amy stood there watching all the time.

“Good little boy, pooping in the potty for Mommy. Now hop in the shower and get yourself all clean. Clean, clean, clean so you can stay clean, clean, clean all day during work. Hurry now. It’s getting late.”

For moments in the shower I felt almost like myself. I washed my hair, lathered myself with soap and except for trying to clean my diaper area, generally showered as I would any morning. I shut off the water, opened the shower curtain, grabbed a towel and began drying myself off. I was a little surprised that Amy wasn’t standing outside the shower stall waiting for me, but I could sense her presence. Just before I was all dry, Amy’s voice shattered my small illusion of normalcy. “Come on little one. Time to get dressed.”

I tried not to get depressed by her continual intervention and walked naked into the bedroom. There on the bed was a pair of slacks, a shirt and tie, a pair of socks and there next to all this overshadowing all the other clothes was the promised pair of bright pink panties. Not only had Amy selected for me my entire outfit, but there was the object of my shame for the day. “OK now, little Petey, can you get your panties on yourself or do you want Mommy to help?”

As I stood still for just a moment to absorb the sting of her words, she spoke again, “Speak up, little boy! Mommy asked you a question. Answer me.”

I stepped forward toward the bed, reluctantly preparing to put on the glaring punishment panties. “Ah, ah, ah! Answer me now baby! I mean it. Use your words!”

I burned even more with shame but relented and softly said, “I’ll put them on myself.”

“What will you put on yourself, little boy? Will you put on your sissy panties by yourself or should Mommy help?”

“I’ll put on … my … my … sissy panties.”

“Aw, isn’t that cute,” she said. “The little sissy boy is going to try to put on his sissy panties all by himself!”

Slowly and reluctantly, staring at the floor, I put first one leg and then the other leg into the silky pink panties then slid them up my legs. The tingly feeling I usually get ripped through me this morning. It seemed like they weighed a ton as I tried to slide them into place. They seemed to lock on me and it was almost like I could hear locks slamming shut as they moved into place.

“Let Mommy check,” said Amy as she slid a finger in around the waist band, then around the legs just to torment me all the more. “Good sissy boy! You did a good job putting them on. Now I’m going back downstairs. You can get dressed the rest of the way. Once you’re done, I have your lunch for you and a few instructions and then you’ll be on your way.”

Later in the kitchen she handed me a lunch and repeated her instructions about not taking off my sissy panties and making sure to keep them clean. She gave me a deeper more passionate kiss good-bye than any morning I’d remembered recently and gave me a pat on my pantied bottom. “Have a fun day at work, Peter. Remember the fun we’re going to have tonight! Be good for Mommy.”

That day, in the car, as I walked from the parking garage to my office, every step I took, every move I made even at my desk made me completely aware that I was wearing sissy panties and not normal adult men’s underwear. I constantly felt like everyone I ran into was staring at my crotch and somehow knew what I was wearing. Of course, that wasn’t true, though several people asked if I was OK. I wasn’t, but I tried to fake it. I was exhausted from lack of sleep. I was tormented by being made to wear panties and I looked forward to the rest of the week with fear for how things would go.

I panicked the first time I felt an urge to pee. I rushed to the men’s room and quickly locked the door behind me. I slipped into the stall and locked that door as well. There was no way I could use the urinal and not dribble into the panties. I had to try to keep them clean for Amy. I couldn’t betray her yet again by not following these simple instructions to stay clean. I slid down my pants, then my panties and sat on the toilet. I’d rushed so to get here and was so self conscious that it took a while for me to be able to release. When I was done, I grabbed some toilet paper and gently wiped the head of my penis until I was sure it was dry. As I stood, I continued to hold the toilet paper to the head of my penis and sure enough, just before I dared throw the toilet paper into the bowl I dripped a few drops of pee. At once I was panicked that I’d almost wet my panties, yet I was elated that I’d prevented a disaster!

Later I had to move my bowels and I went through a very elaborate process to make sure I was totally – totally – clean before I dared draw those sissy panties back up my legs and over my bottom. At some point during the day I panicked yet again as I’d gotten absorbed in my work for a rare and brief moment on this day when clean panties was almost all I’d thought about. I felt my penis enjoying its silky prison and felt an initial swelling! NO! NO! It couldn’t be! Instantly fear took over and I felt the swelling melt. Oh please! Please, no pre-cum. No, I can’t stain my panties. A quick trip to the men’s room reassured me that I’d indeed kept myself clean.

This was my day. I’d gotten only a tiny fraction of my normal work load done, but it was a victorious day because in spite of a lot of comments from my coworkers about my preoccupation, no one had discovered my panties – and they’d stayed CLEAN! I made sure to go to the men’s room one last time before heading to my car. Still conscious of every movement around my panties, I drove home still slightly fearful of slipping up even at the last moment. Thankfully I made it. Amy had heard the car coming into the garage and met me at the door.

The door had barely shut when she said, “OK sissy boy, big boy pants down. Let me see your sissy panties. Did you keep them clean for Mommy?”

I responded, “Yes, Amy I stayed clean all day. It wasn’t easy, but…”

“No. Don’t tell me, show me! Big boy pants down NOW!”

As it had been the last few days, I knew she really meant business and I’d learned too well not to push her in this new mode. I loosened my belt, undid my pants and let them slide to the floor. She slid her finger around the leg hole of the panties, eyeing them carefully. “Bend over, little boy.” As I complied she ran her hand over my bottom. “Well, they seem clean. Pick up your pants and let’s go upstairs. Do you remember that it’s diaper time now?”

Yes, I knew, but in the minor thrill of keeping my panties clean, I’d temporarily forgotten my fate. Dejected, I picked up my dress pants and preceded Amy up the stairs to our room, very aware that she was directly behind me staring at my pink pantied bottom.

A stack of cloth diapers, diaper pins, a pair of blue diaper panties, baby oil and baby powder were waiting anxiously on the bed for my arrival. Silently, knowing my fate, I slung my dress pants over a chair, removed my shirt and when directed by Amy, slid my sissy panties down my legs and stepped out of them. Amy then directed me onto the stack of cloth where she proceeded to slather me well with baby oil, then shake voluminous clouds of baby powder on me. The oil and powder were a new addition and a strange sensation for me. It occurred to me that if I were in my diaper fantasy, this new wrinkle would have been ecstasy. Now in my punishment , now Amy’s diaper fantasy, it was total agony and humiliation. The feeling of the thick cloth pulled up tightly between my legs; the tightness of the cloth as it was pinned firmly around my waist; the enforced bulge between my legs reminded me yet again of my punishment. The snap of the little locks on the diaper pins exploded in my mind as I realized that again I was in diapers against my wishes and at those of my wife. The plastic diaper panties sliding up my legs and over my diapers as I was told to raise my bottom sealed in not only the diapers but sealed away any thought of me having control over my own life. A short tee shirt not even coming to the top of my diaper panties completed my outfit. There was no way for me to hide the fact that I was dressed in a diaper like a baby and would be forced to use it like a baby as well.

I was given my baby bottle full of milk and told to drink it carefully on the family room sofa while Amy watched her favorite late afternoon TV shows. Normally, I’d be in my office on my computer, checking email, playing games, …or checking my favorite websites. Right now I had no desire to even think about Dailydiapers – I was in fact wearing and living my own daily diapers! Even so, the lack of freedom stung me. I was allowed to read the daily newspaper while Amy watched her show. Things went well until the doorbell rang. My heart totally sank! What would happen! I was panicked yet afraid to move for fear Amy would be upset. I couldn’t move but I couldn’t just sit there. Time stood still as the bell rang again.

“Don’t worry, baby. It should only be Jill. Just in case though, I want you to run upstairs to the bedroom. I’ll tell you if it’s safe to come back down. Remember that I don’t want this out in public any more than you do. Run along now, little one.”

Given permission, I scooted up the stairs like a little five year old. I hid in the bathroom of our bedroom as if it were some sort of safe haven. I quivered in fear until I heard Amy’s voice call out, “It’s OK. Aunty Jill is here. Come back down little one.” This still wasn’t a relief to me; it was bad enough to be diapered and pantied by my wife, but to be seen dressed like this by anyone else was complete and total humiliation.

“Get down here, you bad little boy! You’d better listen to me! Don’t make me come up there to get you.” My own self-will disappearing rapidly, I sullenly crept back downstairs listening self-consciously to the rustle of the plastic panties covering my thick cloth diapers. I crept back into the family room staring at the floor. “Here’s the baby boy. Isn’t he cute in his little diaper?” Jill said as she carefully surveyed my outfit. She even walked over and rubbed her hand on my bottom, patting it slightly, then sticking a finger under the leg elastic to touch my diaper. “And the little one is still dry! I hope he doesn’t think he’s a big boy because he hasn’t wet his diaper.”

Amy responded, “No, not at all. He didn’t get home all that long ago and he was just sitting down with his ba-ba so I could watch my shows and keep track of him at the same time. Little diaperpt, get your ba-ba and finish it up like a good little boy. Aunty Jill and I are just going to visit for a while.”

As the two of them talked about their own day and then reveled in Amy’s details of dressing me in my pink sissy-panties for work, I worked on my bottle. As I got close to finishing the bottle, I could feel the pressure in my bladder build. I shifted uncomfortably trying to avoid the inevitable simply because I didn’t want the humiliation of wetting in front of Jill and Amy. Wiggling around wasn’t doing any to delay my need to void and thinking fast, I remembered that I’d brought up to our bathroom the section of newspaper I’d been reading when the doorbell rang. I spoke in my best little boy voice, “Mommy, can I go get the newspaper to read? I left it upstairs in our room.”

Amy saw through it all and replied, “Aw, little one, do you have to do pee-pee? Are you embarrassed to do your pee-pee in front of Aunty Jill and Mommy? Don’t worry, little one, that’s why we have you in your nice thick diapers. Why don’t you just stand up right here in front of us and then when you’re done doing your pee-pee you can go up to get the paper. OK, diaperpt?”

I couldn’t believe I’d been that transparent! My heart sank. “No, Mommy. I’m OK. I just wanted to read the paper. I can wait, thank you Mommy.”

Amy answered in a firm, stern voice. “Little baby, you’ve got to learn that when Mommy tells you to do something, it isn’t just a polite request. I told you to stand up over here in front of us. Now do it, or you’ll get a bare bottom spanking and then have to stand here anyway!”

“But Mommy…” and as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew better. “OK Mommy. I’ll stand over there. I’m sorry Mommy.”

“It’s OK now, but you’ve got to learn. That’s better. Stand there facing us and keep your hands down to your sides. That’s a boy.”

As they continued their conversation, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, tried to squeeze my legs together and in general began to look like a little three year old about to wet their pants. In reality, here I was, forty-three doing a diaper dance about to wet my nice thick cloth diapers. I hold it no longer. Even as I bent to squeeze hard, the hot stream exploded into my diapers. As I felt the warmth spread into the cloth I sensed also how obvious my wetting would be through my clear plastic panties. I didn’t even have to look down to know that my diapers had begun to sag at least slightly under the burden of this heavy wetting.

“Aw, look, Amy,” said Jill, “our little diaper boy is wetting his little diapers. Isn’t that cute? He’s learning that it’s OK for little diaper boys to use their diapers for what they are intended.”

A smile spread across Amy’s face as she said, “Come over here, little boy.” I took the two steps required to be directly in front of her. She reached out and pushed against the increasingly sodden mass of my diapers. “Good boy. You don’t need to be shy about wetting your diapers. That’s what they’re for. Gosh, reading all those posts of yours on Daily Diapers makes me wonder why you’re so reluctant. You made it sound like you live to wet your diapers. You ought to be really enjoying this!”

My eyes were just glued to the floor. I couldn’t stand to look up at Amy or Jill. Instead I simply endured the pain of their slings and barbs and they continued to discuss what a big diaper boy I was. Finally I was told I could retrieve the newspaper and come back downstairs. When I returned, I found a big sheet of plastic on the sofa where I’d been sitting.

I looked over at Amy who said, “We don’t want any of your nasty pee getting on the furniture. Sit down carefully and maybe Aunty Jill will change you in a while.”

Within another fifteen minutes, more of the contents of the bottle found their way to my bladder and wanted escape. This time, I resisted less and even though it was still a little challenging to release in a sitting position, I felt my diapers absorbing even more. The warmth filled the front of my diaper and spread down and back. The warm moist feeling spread up the back of the diaper as well as higher on the front, but I tried not to do anything to attract comments and therefore ridicule of my new “Mommy” and “Aunty.”

Before Jill left, she got to bring me up stairs and change my diapers. I burned with shame and humiliation as she wiped me with cool moist baby wipes, then rubbed in a generous amount of baby oil before drawing up the thick cloth of my fresh diapers and pinning them tightly. Through the whole process she kept a patter of humiliating comments and punctuated them finally by snapping the elastic on my plastic panties.

After Jill left, Amy and I sat down to dinner. She allowed me to feed myself but only after cutting my meat into tiny little pieces on my plate. Dinner conversation amounted to her asking me details of how my sissy panties felt today; how many times I went potty and what my efforts were to keep my panties clean. She talked about her day at work and what a pleasant day she had, looking forward to coming home and getting things ready for her little diaperpt.

Following dinner, I was made to clean up everything from dinner. Ordinarily this was just my usual routine and in a way, this made my day feel a little more normal. At the same time, it was not at all normal as I did the dishes and put away left-overs dressed only in a short tee-shirt, thick cloth diapers and plastic panties. Partway through my chores, I turned and began walking toward the bathroom, when I remembered that there was nothing for me there. Amy and Jill had taken turns carefully drilling me on the fact that I was wearing my bathroom. Sadly, I turned back toward the sink and let myself release into my diapers.

Later I returned to the family room and read some more of the newspaper while working on a bottle she insisted I drink. Suddenly Amy announced it was bedtime. I looked at the clock to see that it was 7:30. “Amy, please, can’t I stay up a little longer?” I found it incredulous that I was begging her as if I were a little child and yet already it was sinking in that this was the way things were going to be.

“Don’t give me any back talk, little man. Upstairs. Now,” she said. “Even if you weren’t just a bad little boy, you know you haven’t been sleeping well. I think it’s because you like to lie awake thinking how nice your diapers feel when you pee yourself. You are such a little sissy baby. But it doesn’t matter. It’s still bed time for a little boy. Don’t make me get out the stun gun, don’t make me spank you, and don’t make me think about sending out those cute little pictures Jill and I have.”

My lower lip quivered a little as I contemplated saying more; begging to be allowed at least a few more minutes. The old me would have found this situation absurd; the person – the bad little boy - I was becoming knew better than to push Mommy too far. As much as her words stung, I also realized I wasn’t sleeping well because of being tied in bed and because I was still having a hard time peeing in my diapers. I knew I’d probably be woken up early again tomorrow and I’d be made to wear another pair of sissy panties to work – worrying all day long about trying to keep them clean. It had only been one day back to work but already I was wishing the work week was over; and not for any of the usual reasons. I dreaded the thought of being paranoid about dirtying those panties.

Upstairs we went and I was soon in my thicker night diapers and bound in the bed. I must have been tired, or perhaps I was getting used to the restraints, because I slipped off to sleep fairly soon. I woke – probably three times – during the night and lay awake struggling to allow myself to pee into my diapers with varying success, once wetting almost immediately when I woke. Ironically, I thought of this as a victory because it allowed me to go back to sleep almost immediately as well.

Link to comment

Part 5: Tuesday

Morning came all too soon. Again I was led to the kitchen, given my breakfast – my coffee from my baby bottle – and soon I felt a bowel movement approaching. Like yesterday, I was allowed onto the toilet to relieve myself, wipe and head off to the shower. When I was dried off, I found myself looking at all my clothes laid out on the bed. For today, Amy had picked out a pair of creamy white silk Victoria Secret panties from my formerly hidden collection. While I hesitated for a moment, I knew what was expected of me and even though reluctantly, I picked them up and slid them up my legs. Of course Amy stood and watched, making what were becoming the standard demeaning comments.

Soon enough I was completely dressed and out the door to work. During the day I was as paranoid and concerned both about being found out and about soiling my panties as I was yesterday. I was distracted from my work and was constantly catching myself making little mistakes as I tried to focus on the details of what I was supposed to be doing. Even in all this – even in the embarrassment of being forced to wear those panties, I felt them slide a little on my skin and felt a tingle. I felt a little tiny bit of the pleasure I used to feel when I wore my panties. After all, why should I worry about being found out? I’d worn so many other times and no one ever knew. Why should it be such a big deal to keep my panties clean? I had to be very, very careful, but I’d done it yesterday and in thinking about it, I’d seldom stained any of my pretty sissy panties when I wore them on my own.

By the end of the day, I was feeling much better about this. Of course, I wasn’t looking forward to going home to face Amy again, but work wasn’t so bad after all. Work drew to an end and I carefully went to the bathroom as a precaution before driving home. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that not only was Amy home, but Jill’s car sat at the curb. What were the two of them up to now?

The treatment I’d been receiving had obviously been working, as I felt like a bad little boy reluctant to face up to his mother. I didn’t know what was coming, but I sensed the two of them had cooked up something and I wasn’t going to like it. As I walked through the door, I could overhear Jill, “You’ve got to do it, Amy.” Amy replied, “I don’t know. It just seems a little weird.” But Amy,” Jill said, “you know it’s going to be better for both of you.” “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hey is that him now?” Amy said. “Little diaperpt, come on out to the kitchen. We’re out here.”

Reluctantly I walked to the kitchen. “Hi there, little boy! Aunty Jill and I have been talking a little and we have a nice little surprise for you. For now though, drop the big boy pants. Time to check up on you. Are your little sissy panties nice and clean like yesterday ?”

Blushing a little I said, “Do I really have to do this in front of your sister? Please can’t I have a little privacy?”

Amy looked at me with fire in her eyes, “You’re in trouble now, mister! Jill, we obviously have to cure him of his silly notions of privacy. Want to do the honors?”

Without speaking, Jill stepped over to me and quickly undoing my belt and pants I was soon standing before her with my pants at my ankles. Jill spoke in a stern voice, “Step out of the big boy pants and take off your big boy shirt too.”

I was crimson with the humiliation of being ordered around like this more than embarrassed for my dress. After all, Jill had already seen me naked over the course of the last several days. I guess I was clinging to some of my adult control still – maybe because I’d just come from the adult world of my job. Now here I was, removing my shirt to stand in front of my wife and sister-in-law in only creamy white silk panties.

“He’s so cute in those little panties, isn’t he, Amy? And later on, he’ll be so much cuter,” said Jill.

“But first, we need to check those panties. Uh oh, Jill, look at the front of them. Is that a little dribble? Did my little boy do a little pee-pee in his pretty panties?”

I cringed. I’d been so careful. It couldn’t be. I went to look down and my hand began to move to my front. Amy quickly slapped my hand away and said, “Look at me, you dirty little boy! Don’t you dare touch yourself! Aunty Jill and I will decide if your panties are dirty and we’ll decide your punishment.”

Jill bent over slightly and looked at my crotch. “Oh yes, It’s a little spot, but I think he did a dribble in his panties! What a dirty little boy he is. Well, Mommy, what are you going to do with him? Are you going to do what we’d talked about?”

“Well, I guess I have to, Jill. How else would a little boy know he’s been bad and has to try harder to keep clean?” Amy turned to me and instructed me, “Go out to the garage and get one of the plastic lawn chairs. Don’t even try to question me. Don’t even think about disobeying.”

Completely humbled, I slunk out to the garage barefoot wearing only a tiny pair of silk panties to retrieve the chair I’d been instructed to get. During the moment I was in the garage, I snuck the opportunity to look at my panties. I couldn’t notice any stain or dampness at all. This was all a set-up and yet I knew better than to react. There was no choice but to go along with whatever was coming next. I carefully took the second chair in the stack of plastic lawn chairs, knowing it wouldn’t be dusty as the top one and knowing it was undoubtedly meant for me.

Returning to the kitchen, I set the chair down by the kitchen table and returned my look to Jill and Amy in anticipation of whatever punishment was coming. My jaw dropped as Amy spoke, “First of all, I want you just to stand in front of the chair. Before, you wanted to touch yourself with your hand to see if your panties were stained, so we’re going to let you. In fact, we want you to play with yourself right here. You seem to love panties so they must get you off. Just reach over and rub yourself. Make your tiny little penis get a little stiffy. Go ahead.”

As I stood there in disbelief, Jill reached over and began to touch me. “Oh come on, little boy. You know you love the feeling of your little silk panties. Let me help you get started.”

She stroked me gently through the slippery, shimmery silk of my panties and as humiliating as it was, I began to feel myself harden. “You can do it, little boy. Put your own hand here and do it yourself,” Jill said as she took my hand in hers and led it to my crotch. It did feel good, but at the same time dirty and humiliating.

When I looked up at Amy with a pleading look as if to beg not to have to do this, I noticed that she’d slipped her hand into a drawer and was now standing there with the stun gun. Knowing my options were severely limited, I continued to stroke myself at their command. I couldn’t manage to give myself a complete hard-on and amid all the derision I had to endure I was certainly getting no pleasure out of this. Nature did, however, win out and finally I let out a small gasp as my semi-stiff penis jumped, spurting out semen into my panties.

Both women laughed at me. Jill began, “Is that all you can do? No wonder you’re the only little baby Amy will ever have!” Amy added, “Was that fun, little boy? Spurting into your cute little sissy panties? Now you have definitely dirtied them, haven’t you? Now, sit in the chair.”

I was so caught up in trying to do as I’d been told that I’d forgotten the chair. I wanted to take off the panties and wipe myself off. The wet goo was cold and felt dirty in the panties and yet I did as I was told. The women laughed again as I let out a little yelp as I sat in the chair. It was still cold from being in the garage and in addition to that, the little slats on the back of the chair bit into my skin as I sank into the chair.

Amy soon produced my baby bottle full of water while Jill disappeared just long enough to fetch ankle restraints. It didn’t take much to figure what I was in for. Over the next two hours, I was made to drink almost continually from my bottle. The wet mess in my panties had started to dry and almost crackle with my movements before the inevitable happened. I’d worked at holding back, but with my ankles spread by the tightness of the restraints I was at a disadvantage. Thankfully Jill and Amy were out of the room when it happened. It began with a small spurt that I managed to stop. I felt the burst of wetness into the panties but soon my muscles betrayed me and I began to flood. The panties held my penis close to my body and so the flow was directed downward. The natural cupping of the chair allowed the urine to completely soak into the panties and soon I was sitting in a lake of my own pee. The chair could only hold so much, though, and soon there was a tell tale stream flowing out of the chair onto the floor. As the stream turned to a trickle and then to a few drips, I heard steps leading into the kitchen.

“Jill! Come here! Look at what our little boy has done!”

Jill rushed out to take in the sight of me sitting in soaked panties and a puddle of pee. “Oh what a messy little boy, you are! I guess that’s why he really needs to be in diapers! Shall we start the next phase?”

“I think so, Jill. It still seems a little weird to me, but it is what we need to do,” answered Amy.

Amy actually handed me the key to the ankle restraints and instructed me to unlock them since my pee had seeped down the chair leg onto the restraints. I was thrown several dish towels and told to wipe myself up and put the restraints into the sink to soak. Leaving the rest of the mess behind, I was directed up the stairs to our bathroom. Into the shower I went, instructed to clean myself thoroughly – especially my diaper area. As I stepped out of the shower, both Jill and Amy were there. As I dried myself off, Jill spread a sheet of plastic on the floor in front of me.

“Little boys – and especially little baby boys – don’t have all that big boy hair around their little pee-pee. It makes it harder for Mommy and Aunty to be sure you’re nice and clean all the time, so you’ve got to get rid of all that silly pubic hair.” With that, Amy handed me a pair of scissors and instructed me to snip off as much as I could. Hesitantly and very, very carefully I began snipping away at my bush. I’d seen pictures of guys – and women – like that on diaper sites. I’d read the forums discussing the pros and cons of different options for getting rid of hair down there. I’d even wondered what it would feel like to have a hairless crotch. The pictures seemed so strange and while I’d thought about it, I’d never really been serious about it. I felt strangely excited by this even in the humiliation of being forced to snip away this sign of my manhood.

The foam of the shaving cream I was forced to slather on my crotch only added to my unwanted excitement and I felt myself getting semi-hard again as I began the process of shaving myself. When I had done as good a job as I felt I could do, Amy and Jill took turns with the razor. The made me bend over at the waist to do my backside and into all the cracks and crevices. They made me lie down on a towel and spread my legs wide to check and double check every square inch, carefully and gently scraping off every single hair on my ball sack and from the level of my belly button down to mid-thigh.

When they were satisfied I was totally hairless, I was carefully wiped with a moist washcloth and dried thoroughly but gently. It felt so strange but in spite of the humiliation factor, somehow it felt good. Four days into my ordeal and I’d begun to have little glimpses of actually enjoying bits of my punishment; this was after all a former fantasy. NO! My mind revolted against my senses. NO! This was no fantasy! This was a nightmare.

My manhood was being taken away in almost every sense. I’d reluctantly but wisely given over control to my wife. If I hadn’t, the humiliation I’d felt would have been total – the loss I’d suffer would be irreplaceable. I’d certainly lose my job and there’s no way that in the present economy I’d be able to get any kind of work that would be able to allow me to support myself. All our money was in joint accounts and Amy had been the manager of all but our common checkbook. She’d already outlined how she’d begun shrinking those joint accounts and transferring the money into accounts in her name only. While she hadn’t actually talked with a divorce lawyer, she’d researched enough to locate one she was confident would take me for about all I’d have left. I had little family but I knew them well and if any of the pictures Amy had of me got out in public, the saying ‘blood is thicker than water’ would hold no meaning.

I’d had a lot of time to think over the last four days and I knew that if Amy wanted to, she could abandon me to a hopeless life. She really did have me over a barrel. Even though I might retain my ‘manhood’ and control over my life, I’d have virtually no life to control. I’d be out on the street. Even the life Amy had planned for me – whatever that might be – would be preferable to being outted and thrown to the curb. I was being totally humiliated here, but I knew she was serious about not letting any of this new home life get out into the public eye. And I knew she was smart enough and clever enough to make it work.

No. Now, hairless and laying on a stack of cloth diapers having baby oil slathered on and rubbed in, this is not fantasy. How could I think ‘fantasy’ when I was being prepared for yet another night bound into my bed waiting to wet myself, hoping it would become easier so I could get past the humiliation and get back to sleep. Get back to sleep which would bring me closer to the next day when I’d dress in sissy panties and head off to work where I’d continue to be distracted. What if I got so distracted and made so many mistakes at work that I was fired? Even if I wasn’t discovered as a controlled, pantied naughty little boy, what would I do if I lost my job? No, this was definitely a nightmare! And yet, it was a nightmare I was determined to live through. The alternative wasn’t a viable one and I still held out hope that Amy would tire of the game and if not give it up, at least back off. I was a little afraid of Jill, but I also knew that the two sisters were so close that if Amy told Jill to back off, Jill would respect her older sister. Not a word of this would ever get beyond the three of us unless I did something stupid to force their hand.

All this ran through my mind as the thick cloth diapers were drawn up between my legs and pinned tightly yet again. Even in my deep thoughts, I also sensed the new feeling of hairlessness against the soft fabric of my diapers. Each movement reinforced my new baby-like state. My thoughts faded into the distance as my plastic panties slipped up my legs and I raised my bottom for them to move into place enclosing and holding the thick padding around my waist. Once the diapers were in place, I was made to go back down to the kitchen and clean up the chair and the floor around it. I was given a rag and some disinfectant to work with and wasn’t allowed off my hands and knees until both Amy and Jill had approved of my work.

When they were finally satisfied, I was brought up to bed and given one more bottle to drink. I’d missed the chance for dinner this night, but I was so full of water from my enforced drinking binge and so drained from the emotional experience, I wouldn’t miss food for now. They stood over me taking turns hurling insults and barbs at me, laughing between the two of them, until I was finished with the bottle. Believe me; I worked at draining the bottle if only to get them to leave me alone. Strapped into my bed and now alone in my thoughts I lay there waiting for sleep to overtake me.

Before sleep, however, the pressure built predictably and soon I felt an impending flood. I was getting to the point where I was trying to decide if there was any productive reason to resist; certainly not when I was diapered. Of course, this would make it more difficult to hold back during the day when I wore panties. Today, it hadn’t mattered. I’d kept my panties perfectly clean and was punished unfairly anyway. Still, I reasoned, it would be a disaster if I had an accident in my panties; because they were so sheer and silky they wouldn’t absorb even a tiny bit of pee. As I argued back and forth with myself, trying to hold back as I wrestled with what to do, the he vast amount of liquids I’d been forced to consume made letting go all too easy. While my mind struggled with what to do, my body gave in. Immediately the feeling of wetting was significantly different. I can’t really describe exactly, but I could certainly tell that beneath my diaper there was no longer any hair; I was as bare as a new born baby.

All this churned in my mind. I reasoned that I’d better make every effort I could to hold my urine as much as I could or I’d begin to lose the ability to hold it. I didn’t want to risk an accident at work in my panties. Until I could work things out with Amy and get back into a regular routine, I’d need to cooperate – or at least seem to. As much as I thought, planned and plotted as to how I could convince Amy that I would be a better husband and that we could restore our relationship – and even improve it – I was worried that I just might have gone past the point of no return. She’d never stayed this angry; she’d never carried a grudge or maintained any kind of negative attitude toward me for this length of time. What if she was really serious about all this?

She and Jill had talked about ordering from some of the websites advertised on Daily Diapers and other ABDL sites. I’d taken this as just a threat to scare me. But then I’d thought this wouldn’t last past the weekend. How long could this go on? My arms and legs were uncomfortable in the bed restraints I was kept in at night; how long would this continue?

I thought back to before being found out. I thought of how I looked forward to the excitement of a day at work in panties; the silky material against my skin; the way the soft material cradled me and held me secure. I loved the feeling of sliding the panties up my legs and then feeling the soft silky material as it caressed my skin.

I thought also of how much I looked forward to a diaper day – being home alone to set out my diaper supplies and pretend I was being made to wear diapers. I loved the feeling of slathering baby oil into my diaper area, then laying down on a thick pile of cloth diapers. The thickness of the diapers as I pulled them up between my legs excited me and the tightness as I pinned one side then the other was somehow so comforting. The feeling of sliding my plastic panties up my legs and easing them over the thick cloth, with the elastic legs and waist sealing it all in, was almost magical.

All this seemed so long ago. As I lay bound in my bed with the same thick, and now wet, diapers with my own plastic panties sealed over them it all seemed so strange and so remote. Now that it wasn’t my own idea it all seemed so different. And yet, as I’d felt the new sensation of peeing my now hairless groin, there was just a glimmer of excitement; a reminiscence of what it had been like before. Or had it just been the shock? It must have been. All of this has been a nightmare. I’ve been constantly repulsed by all that has gone on.

As much as I’ve been hopeful and even confident that this will all end soon and Amy and I will restore our relationship, I’m frightened by all that has happened. I’m afraid that Amy and Jill may actually carry through their threats and I’m not sure whether I’m more afraid of being publicly outted as some sort of panty and diaper wearing pervert and Amy leaving me or of Amy and Jill keeping the secret but also keeping me under their total control.

That night I slept little. My thoughts grated at any sleepiness that promised to overtake me. When I did drift off, I had several terrible dreams and woke with a start. I wet my diapers several more times because of all the liquid consumed the previous evening. I could only hope that I could make it through the next day.

Link to comment

Part 6: Wednesday

Had I slept at all? I must have because now I was being roused out of a deep sleep. Even in my grogginess I felt the warm dampness of my diapers. Amy’s sweet voice nevertheless ripped through my psyche as she chided me for being such a little sleepy head. “Time to get up, little diaper boy. You must be hungry this morning. I’ve got a nice little treat for you downstairs. Let’s get you up.”

After releasing my restraints I followed her obediently down to the kitchen. My stomach rumbled on the way from the lack of solid food the previous night. I felt light-headed both from lack of food and from sleeplessness. I moved as if in a bad dream and yet the forced waddle imposed by my very thick and wet diapers and the stiffness of my arms and legs imposed by the bed restraints came out of my sleepy fog to grasp me with reality.

Amy restrained my legs to the chair and my arms behind the chair and proceeded to feed me a huge bowl of oatmeal. “Doesn’t this taste just delicious, diaperpt? I put the oatmeal through the blender before I added the milk and cooked it so it would be nice and creamy smooth for my little boy. Then when it was done, I put in some banana and put it through the blender again. The consistency should be just right. Yum, yum, eat it all gone, my little diaper boy!”

This morning I was too tired and too hungry to pay too much attention to her humiliating patter. I don’t think I was getting used to it; on some level I was still humiliated by this treatment. Those feelings were just submerged as I hungrily consumed all that Amy put in my mouth. I was still hungry when Amy had scraped the last of the bowl onto the spoon and put it into my mouth. Amy wet a paper towel and wiped my messy face clean; even though she tried to feed me neatly and I tried to keep myself clean, there were inevitable spills and drips.

With no solid food the previous evening, I had little to void when put on the toilet. Amy warned me not to mess my pretty little sissy panties while at work but then let me take my shower. The invigorating water of the shower both relaxed my sore muscles and revived me at least slightly. My outfit for the day, set out as usual by Amy, featured a bright yellow pair of panties I’d ordered from ebay; a little pair of bikinis with little plastic catches on each side so they could be easily released. They were especially tight and clingy and as I slid them up my legs onto my hairless groin I experienced a whole new feeling.

My humiliation of being forced to wear them was tempered, even if only slightly, by an electric feeling of the tight slinky fabric against my new smoothness. The feeling surprised me and I felt a mix of excitement and revulsion even through the haze of my groggy state. The confusion of my feelings rattled me as I finished dressing and drove to work.

The day dragged interminably. Perhaps it was my groggy state; perhaps it was beginning to adjust to this new routine, but I found myself thinking more about my work today and less about my physical condition. My coworkers noticed my sleepiness and suggested that maybe I needed a day off. I thanked them for their concern but assured them I’d be OK. What was going on was only temporary; I’d be back on track within a day or so. I just wasn’t feeling up to par and couldn’t find a way of explaining adequately what was wrong.

Of course I couldn’t explain what was wrong! After all, keeping the secret was the goal – the entire goal. At the same time, I was beginning to realize I couldn’t keep up this charade for much longer either. My work was suffering to such an extent that my job would soon be threatened. I had to focus somehow and get a grip on myself. Whether it was sleeplessness, fear of being found out, or simple lack of concentration I had to rise above it and function.

The many cups of coffee I consumed that morning trying to rouse myself caused a great deal of anguish as I raced to the men’s room any number of times. Keep those panties clean! Keep those panties dry and clean! I was in a very scary and dangerous place. I’d been punished yesterday in spite of keeping my panties clean and yet I still had to hope that I’d be OK if I just could keep these panties dry and clean.

Somehow I made it through the day. I’d had another small bowel movement and made extraordinary efforts to clean myself so thoroughly there was no threat of stain in my panties. Each time I peed, I’d wipe my penis carefully and make sure there was not even the tiniest drip left before sliding my panties back into place. I was never happier to leave the office, drive home and walk into the house, even with the threat of what was likely to come next.

As I entered the house, I was hopeful that I would not be punished for the condition of my panties. I’d worked so hard through my sleepy haze at keeping them clean. I was prepared for the same inspection I’d been subjected to the last two days and I wasn’t disappointed. “Drop the big boys, little one,” said Amy. “Let’s inspect for damage.”

I was amazed to be declared “clean” and having avoided punishment, almost ecstatic to be told to get up to the bedroom and strip down in preparation for being diapered. How could I be ecstatic about being forced into diapers? Simple – it was better than the punishment I’d received yesterday! It wasn’t a case of ‘pick your battles’ – the only battle I hoped to engage in was to keep on Amy’s good side, hoping for some sort of reprieve. I was actually surprised that I wasn’t punished anyway – as I had been yesterday. No matter; the important thing was that I was not to be punished.

Amy put me into one of my Attends, covered it with a milky pair of snap-on panties and gave me a short tee shirt to wear. It came down a little below the top of the panties and did little to hide my diapered condition. Next I was instructed to get all my dirty diapers from the new diaper pail in our bathroom (actually it was just an old wastebasket with a sealed lid we’d saved in the cellar). I was transferring the load from the washer to the dryer when I heard the door bell. I cowered in the cellar until I heard Jill’s voice calling down the stairs. “It’s only Aunty Jill, diaperpt. Come on up! I want to check your diaper.”

As glad as I was that it wasn’t someone else, my heart sank that Amy was going to have reinforcement in her taunting and abuse of me. I slunk up the stairs only to be greeted by Jill’s cheery voice. “So I hear you somehow managed to keep your little panties clean today. Good for you, little one! Come over here now, so I can check your little diaper.”

Head hanging down, I slowly approached Jill. When I got close, she reached out, grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. “Come on, you big baby! Aunty Jill is just going to check your diaper! We don’t want you leaking all over the floor! Those cute little baby panties won’t hold it all!”

She made a big show of sliding her finger into the leg of the plastic pants and then past the leak guards of the Attends. “Um, you are wet, aren’t you? Well, I think you can go for a while more before we change you. After all, you are starting to run low on your disposables and we don’t have enough cloth diapers to keep you in them all the time without constantly running the washing machine.”

I was sent up to the bathroom to clean it entirely. I was told that I needed to pay special attention to cleaning the toilet so it would be ready for my poops in the morning. It was also to remind me that I wouldn’t be using it for peeing at all. As I worked, the voices of Amy and Jill carried up to the bathroom. Although I couldn’t hear any details, from their laughter and tone, I suspected they were plotting together about my future. As this week had worn on, I’d remained hopeful for a reconciliation and release from this treatment, but I’d had nothing but evidence that there was to be no relief any time soon. Still, I maintained in my mind some hope that if I played my cards right, cooperated and didn’t rebel too much, I might just be able to find a way out of this predicament.

I’d rinsed and hung the several pair of plastic panties I’d used since the last wash and just finished folding my diapers when I was called to dinner. Another check of my diapers led to a change at the humiliating hands of my sister-in-law Jill and then I was restrained into the white plastic lawn chair for dinner. Jill was given the honors of feeding me my meal; the same food as the two of them ate, but mine had been pureed in the blender. Jill surprised me as she produced a cloth bib, slipping it over my head.

“Wow, Amy, this fits the little boy perfectly! Even though its intended for a toddler, the stretchy neck fits him just right. Now when he dribbles his baby food, it won’t get his little tee-shirt dirty.” Jill took great pleasure in purposely missing my mouth, overfilling the spoon, playing the little baby air-plane game and making me try to anticipate her movements with the oversized spoon. She and Amy laughed almost continuously at my feeble attempts. Jill and Amy sipped at their glasses of white wine as Jill offered me my baby bottle full of apple juice.

I was too hungry and too tired to object and knew that even if I did object, I could only make things worse. None too soon the meal was over. Jill and Amy brought me upstairs and gave me a nice warm bath in the name of checking to see if they needed to shave me any more. As they checked, they took the opportunity to shave the rest of my legs. They told me that this was just to help me feel more like the little boy I truly was. I tried to make this seem like less of an intrusion into my adulthood by reasoning that I wasn’t about to show anyone my legs anyway. I wasn’t going to be going to the gym again anytime soon – not in panties or a diaper – and the weather was now too cold for shorts. Certainly by Springtime, I’d be back to my old self. However long term this punishment was to be, it certainly wouldn’t last that long…would it?

Thankfully I was soon put in my night diapers, given my nighttime bottle and put to bed. There was none of the extreme anguish of the previous night. My mind wandered back through all the hopes, worries and concerns I’d been experiencing this week, but sleep snuck in and carried them away. I woke during the night to relieve my bladder but it was beginning to be a little easier to release and I slipped back to sleep even before the warmth of the wet cloth diapers faded.

Link to comment

Although I'm not really into the sissy aspect of the story, I keep waiting on baited breath for the next installment. Keep up the great work.

My writing is up to part 11...things will develop and change as the story moves forward. Hang in and see what's coming! I hope it will keep people's interest. I'll post some more in a few days.

Link to comment

My writing is up to part 11...things will develop and change as the story moves forward. Hang in and see what's coming! I hope it will keep people's interest. I'll post some more in a few days.

Waiting with dry diapers and baited breath :)

Link to comment

Part 7: Thursday and Friday

I’d woken very groggy again on Thursday morning. Breakfast and my shower perked me up considerably and after dressing – today in a flowered print panty with a bright red penis sleeve – I headed off to a much more productive day at work. The penis sleeve was a little more difficult to work with. If I thought about it at all, it did its diabolical work all too well and I’d begin to swell inside it. I feared that if I wasn’t careful I might develop at least a slight pre-cum stain. Slipping the panties on and off to use the bathroom was also a slight problem, but I was doing well.

The afternoon and evening was uneventful. That is if you’d consider the panty inspection and subsequent diapering uneventful. Thankfully I wasn’t punished. Jill wasn’t around and although the chicken and vegetables I ate for dinner was cut into tiny pieces and put in a bowl, at least I was allowed to eat it myself. I was made to wear the bib and forced to drink apples juice from my baby bottle, but it wasn’t as humiliating as it could have been. Dinner conversation focused on how I’d kept my panties clean, whether or not I’d need to be shaved again tonight and how wet my diapers were. Amy talked about her work and how happy she was in her job now that she could look forward to coming home to her little boy. As she spoke, I heard the ring of sincerity in her voice. Her joy slid me into depression as I sensed she wasn’t about to give up on this anytime soon.

She sensed my sadness and said, “Aw, come on little boy. Aren’t you really happy about this? At least deep down, don’t you like the idea that you’re being allowed everything you’d wanted to do? You get to wear your sissy panties every day. You get to be diapered all the time you’re at home. This is your fantasy, isn’t it?”

I measured my words carefully. I didn’t want to alienate her or make her angry, but this was my chance to communicate my feelings. “Amy, I know this used to be my fantasy. I’ve learned the hard way, though, that fantasies aren’t always what you think they’ll be when they turn real. I think too, maybe a large part of my fantasy was that I was doing something wrong; that I was being bad in hiding it all from you. It isn’t like I was cheating on you with another woman, but somehow there was just something naughty about it. I never really wanted to do this full time. I know what I’d said in those posts on Daily Diapers, but that was just all talk.”

Amy thought about what I’d said for a moment and replied, “But on some level, you really enjoyed all of what you were doing. Jill and I have read all those posts of yours and a lot of others from people who seem to be like you. I seriously think that on some level what you’ve been experiencing the last few days is truly a dream come true for you.”

“Oh, Amy. I thought this would be what I’d want, but I hate this. I’m so afraid someone will find out. I’m so afraid that because I’m in diapers at night that I’ll get used to wetting and slip up at work. It isn’t even your punishment at home, but what would I do if I had a major accident at work? It’s so embarrassing not to have any pubic hair. I feel so weird. Wetting my diapers and being changed by you or by Jill feels so wrong. Please tell me we can somehow work this out. Please tell me we can fix our relationship and make it even stronger.”

Amy smiled, “Oh we are fixing our relationship. It had been incredibly out of whack and I’m fixing it. I’m glad that for the most part you’ve been cooperating, since it makes it much easier, but believe me, with your cooperation or without it, we are going to have an incredibly strong and healthy relationship. At least from my point of view! Like I said, too, I’m confident that even though you are resisting right now, this is what you really want. I’m looking at it all as a win-win. I’m incredibly happy now and am looking forward to so much more. I think you’re smart enough to play along and in doing so, I’m sure you’re going to learn to love this life as much as me.”

I tried to object but Amy was done talking for now. When I tried to continue, she threatened me with a punishment, without specifying what that might be. Rather than push it and find out, I relented. Instead, I was directed to clean up from dinner. When that chore was done, I was taken for my bath and a little touch-up shaving, then diapered and put to bed.

Again that night I slept as well as I’d slept since this ordeal had begun. I endured the morning ritual once again, dressing in pale blue Victoria Secret Second Skin Satin panties, and drove off to work. I was less self-conscious than ever about my panties and accomplished more Friday than I’d done in any two of the previous days. I left work both anxious for the weekend and wondering what the weekend would bring.

On the drive home I began to feel the need to use the bathroom. I’d been in a little too much of a rush to get out of the office and now I was beginning to worry about leaking into my panties. Closer and closer to home; harder and harder to hold it in. Closer and closer…harder and harder. Still, I knew I could make it. I knew I’d get home in time. Into the driveway and into the house. Quick, Amy, please do the panty check! Now! Instead I heard her voice from upstairs, “Stay down there, diaperpt. I’ve got a surprise for you up here. Just wait a sec and I’ll be down for your panty check.”

I shouted up the stairs, “Please Amy. I have to pee badly. May I please just slip into the bathroom and pee and then you can check my panties?”

The answer was stern, “Stop acting like a baby! If you can’t hold it in what am I going to do? Don’t you dare soil those little panties! I’ll be right down. Don’t you DARE go even a step from the front hallway.”

“Please, Amy. I’m not kidding! I want to be good. I don’t want to wet my panties, but I don’t think I can wait!”

Amy responded, “You know, the more you beg, the longer I’m going to take up here. If you even think you are anything but a bad little baby boy, you’ll be able to hold it in for a second more.”

“But…” was as far as I got. I felt it – a little spurt of pee – a little warm wet patch in the front of the panties. I clinched hard to stem any further flow, but in spite of my efforts there was a renewed spurt. Again I held and then finally I broke away from my frozen position and rushed to the downstairs bathroom. I felt dampness down to my knees and I realized my dress pants were wet in addition to having wet my panties. I ripped them down and finished the flow into the toilet.

I turned to see Amy glowering at me. “So, what do we have here? Do you think you’re a big boy and can use the big boy potty? I’ve told you that’s off limits except for work and poops at home. How dare you disobey? What kind of person are you anyway that can’t hold your pee for even a little bit of time? Well, we’ll just have to take care of that, won’t we? Strip here, except for your panties. Leave everything else on the floor and you can clean it up later; that and the little puddle you left in the hall. Upstairs you pissy little baby.”

Hanging my head in shame, red with embarrassment, and worried about what was to come I entered the bedroom without noticing several boxes sitting near the bed. I did however notice a plastic package sitting on the bed and a large plastic sheet laid out as well.

Amy’s voice burned with anger, “You dirty little pissy little boy! You want to wet your panties? OK. I’m going to let you wet them some more. I’m going to let you keep wearing them for now, but under your diapers.” Suddenly though her voice brightened, “On the other hand, I’m so excited that the first of our orders have come in. See your new changing pad? It’ll help keep the bed from getting wet or dirty. And we’ve got some new diapers to try! See the package? Bambino’s! Look at the cute little print on them!”

Soon I’d not only seen them but was fastened securely into one. They were followed by a new pair of baby print plastic panties. Underneath it all, I could feel the cold wet kiss of my pee soaked Victoria Secret panties.

What really shook me to the core, though, was the little tee-shirt Amy slipped over my head. It was a soft baby blue and had a baby like collar on it. When she smoothed it down my front I noticed the writing: “Mommy’s Dirty Little Diaper Boy.”

My heart sank and I came as close to tears as I had for a long, long time. If she’d ordered this, she certainly intended me to use them. A short term punishment could have included several new packages of Attends from the local medical supply store, but new plastic pants and this tee-shirt were an ominous omen. I looked over and finally noticed the presence of the boxes scattered on the floor. Suddenly I was not looking forward to the rest of the weekend.

“Oh yes, you finally noticed some more of our order! I won’t tell you everything we got for you, but I know it’s all going to be just right for my little boy. Don’t you love your cute little shirt and new plastic panties? And aren’t those Bambino’s just priceless? They look so cute on you. I know you’re going to be so happy with the rest of the stuff we have. And Jill and I are going to be ordering even more for you! We’re just getting started. For now, I’ve got a load of brand new cloth diapers ready for you to put through the wash. I’m sure you already know that new diapers need to be washed first before you can wear them. It makes them much more absorbent and you know how much you wet!”

As I loaded the washer for the second time, I’d taken inventory and counted out a dozen new cloth prefold diapers, four pair of thick snap-on all-in-one diapers and two pair of Velcro cloth diapers. This was serious business. There was no way that Amy had ordered all this stuff just to scare me or punish me for a short time. It was becoming very obvious that unless some miracle occurred, I’d be in diapers for quite some time.

By dinner-time I’d wet myself a couple more times. I could feel the bulk of my diaper over the very soaked panties and I was afraid I’d soon be leaking. Amy checked my diapers and announced, “Wow! These Bambino’s are great! I can tell you’ve really wet quite heavily but I know we can leave you in them for a while more!”

Dinner was relatively uneventful, although Amy was overly bubbly about all the things that had come in for me today. Still, she wouldn’t tell me what there was but only that I was going to love it all. And even if I didn’t, she and Jill certainly were going to love it. I was allowed to eat the tiny pieces of cut up meat and vegetables. Before starting, Amy produced a huge new bib and snapped it around my neck. The meal was put in a new plastic bowl with a ‘cow jumping over the moon’ print and I drank from a brand new baby bottle. Amy was a LOT more excited about that than I was. I was sinking into an even deeper depression, realizing I was only starting a slide into the little boy treatment I’d been enduring for almost a week. I was happy that I wasn’t fed my meal, but that did little to brighten my mood.

Later, I was ‘allowed’ to sit on a new play mat spread out on the family room floor while Amy watched TV, but promptly at 7:00 she announced my bedtime. I was made to fold up the mat and put it next to the sofa, then I was led upstairs where I was allowed a quick bath to remove all the stale urine from wearing my wet panties under my diaper. Dry from the bath, I was led in to a huge stack of cloth on the changing pad on the bed. Amy chatted away at how nice my new diapers were as she pinned not just the usual three, but four thick cloth diapers on. My thighs stretched wide with the thickness of cloth forcing them apart. With the last diaper in place, Amy produced a new pair of diaper panties, carefully pointing out the babyish pattern as she slipped them up my legs and into place.

“Now for another surprise! I know you’ve been terribly uncomfortable with your wrist and ankle restraints. How would it be if we didn’t have to do that tonight? Would my little boy like that?” Amy asked.

My immediate reaction was glee. Bound up in thick, thick diapers as I was, if I at least had a little more movement in bed it would be at least a little more comfortable. I couldn’t hide a little smile. Within moments, though, I began to realize there must be some catch.

“Look what we have here!” she said, as she produced another pair of diaper panties – this time a heavy fabric pair. She immediately began to slip them on me before I had a full chance to see them. With the four thicknesses of diapers on, it was a little bit of a struggle to get them in place but they were clearly made for extra thick diapers. The leg bands fit tightly and a little lower than those of the plastic pants. I felt a sudden tightening of the waist and then heard a little click. I looked down to see a tiny padlock holding together a small chain fed through a sleeve around the waist of the outer pants.

“There you go! All safe and secure! You won’t be getting into your diapers until I unlock them for you. These pants are great. I’m so glad I ran across them online. Now let’s get you into your new sleeper.”

With that, she produced a large one-piece footed sleeper. I’d seen them for little kids, but never in an adult size. It was baby-blue with babies and dinosaurs all over them. She helped me into the sleeper one leg at a time then having me stand up as she adjusted the back and directed my hands to each arm-hole. Once my arms were completely in I noticed that I had trouble moving my arms. I could then see that the sleeves were sewn directly to the front of the sleeper. Amy bent down and promptly zipped the obviously heavy-duty zipper up one leg, up the front right to the neck. As she adjusted something at the neck, I heard another click and realized I’d just been locked in again.

When Amy directed me to lie down in the bed, I almost fell over trying to move my legs. I looked down to see that about a 12 inch section of the legs, from the knee down was sewn together. This was obviously designed to keep me from getting up and walking. While I was a little less restricted than by the bed restraints, I was going nowhere fast. Amy helped me ease into the bed, kissed me gently on the forehead and insisted I accept a huge new pacifier into my mouth. It was placed in a Velcro strap which she fastened around my head, holding the paci firmly in place.

“There, little boy. Already for beddy-bye. Now you can move around in bed with me needing to worry if you’ll get up and get into trouble. You certainly won’t be able to play with your pee-pee or get out of your diaper. You can just focus on being a good little boy and sleeping all night long. Your nice thick diapers are there for you to use whenever you need to. Night-night and sleep tight. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

As she turned off the light and shut the door behind her, I felt the thickness of the diapers and the tightness of the new locking pants. Somehow there was a tiny feeling of security, more so than I’d felt all week. The sleeper was restrictive, but I could roll from side to side easily and lie on my back or my front. I decided it wasn’t comfortable to lie on my front, though, since that meant being on top of my arms. After being on my back for a while, I rolled onto my side and drew my knees curling into a comfortable fetal position. The material of the sleeper was thick and soft and comforting. In spite of myself, I found myself calming myself as I developed a rhythm of sucking on my new pacifier. In spite of myself, even as I felt the continued humiliation of my situation, I felt secure and comfortable.

Worry about what would come tomorrow was washed away in the comfort of the moment. My first wetting did nothing to diminish my comfort. I had very thick diapers on and I knew I wouldn’t be leaking. I was warm and I could move around as much as I need to in order to sleep. This was the most comfortable I’d felt at home in a full week. I drifted off to sleep smiling around the edges of my pacifier. Whether I was getting used to wetting, whether I was over-tired, or whether I was losing control, I don’t know but while I woke several times to pee, at least one of those times I woke to realize I had already started to pee. Another time would be soon enough to fret over this; I was happy not to have my sleep disturbed any more than this. I renewed nursing my pacifier and slipped back asleep.

Link to comment

Dear diaperpt, that was wonderful ! Your writing has really improved, and it's much more enjoyable to read. I'm looking forward to wherever you are planning to take us.

Hugs from Baby Jennie in Australia

Link to comment

Part 8: the next Saturday – a full week and lots more to come

I began waking up slowly Saturday morning until I found myself moving just a little and then I started awake with a jerk. I was so used to being restrained that it was a shock to have any movement at all! Now fully awake, I began thinking about getting out of bed simply because I could. At the same time, I gave some thought to the idea that I might be punished for taking any initiative like that. I decided it was much better to lie there for at least a while to see if Amy would be in to check on me.

I waited patiently for quite some time, during which I had to wet yet again. I rolled on my back and felt the warmth flow over me and be absorbed into the thick cloth. My diapers had been very soggy to begin with, but I could tell there was yet more capacity in my very thick overnight diapers. Still I looked forward to being changed out of them and I wondered if I would be put in a disposable, more cloth or perhaps even allowed to dress in another pair of my sissy panties. As I lay there contemplating what might come of this day, I could hear Amy moving around in the kitchen. It was perhaps another twenty minutes or so before I heard her footsteps up the stairs and approaching the bedroom.

“Good morning, little boy. How’s my little sleepy head? I let you sleep late since its Saturday. I’m so proud of you for not getting in trouble by trying anything like getting out of bed on your own. Let’s see what you can do in your sleeper. Go ahead, get out of bed.”

I worked at swinging my feet over the edge of the bed and sitting up, but it was a struggle. I turned over onto my front and wiggled my way around so I got my knees on the floor. Now I was truly stuck! I groaned into my pacifier, unable to speak with it fastened in.

“What’s that, little boy? Looks like you’re stuck. Oh my, I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t try to get out of bed last night! Alright, roll over onto your back and Mommy will get you out.”

Soon I was released from this sleeper and into another sleeper that Amy produced from one of my dresser drawers. This one also had a very childish pattern on it, but the arms and legs were free. Neither did it have a lock at the neck. It felt soft and comfortable as she finished zipping the front zipper. With that, I was allowed to stand and pad downstairs with Amy to the kitchen.

I sat down in a chair at the table and I could already see a plate of French toast lathered with syrup waiting on a plate. “Do you like what Mommy made you for breakfast? Oh, you can’t talk yet, can you? Let me take your pacifier.”

Once she removed my pacifier, she put another new bib around my neck and drew up a chair for herself right next to me. She proceeded to feed me the French toast, allowing me to stop occasionally to drink some apple juice from one of my new baby bottles.

As she fed me, she spoke of how well this first week had gone. For the most part I’d been very cooperative and didn’t need to be punished as much as she’d thought. She said she was so happy with the first of the supplies she’d ordered and couldn’t wait for more of the orders to come in. There was also a big surprise waiting for me later on today. Amy explained that first I was going to be allowed to do some of my new household chores and then in the afternoon, we were going to be going out. She didn’t elaborate, but she just glowed as she told me this much. When I’d finished all my French toast and had emptied my bottle, she wiped my face with a damp paper towel and removed my bib.

From there, I was told to shower, dry off and meet her in the bedroom. In the shower and as I toweled myself off, I wondered what I’d be wearing today. It wasn’t like I was going to have any choice in the matter. I’d hoped I’d be wearing disposables today, but then I wasn’t sure how I’d want to be dressed if we were to go out later on. I was afraid that I’d have an accident in panties, yet I’d never gone out in public in a diaper and was sure it would be like having a huge neon sign flashing over my head; “this guy is wearing a diaper!”

As I entered the bedroom, I immediately noticed a pile of cloth on the bed. My worries must have been transparent as Amy immediate spoke, “Oh don’t worry, little boy. These are only for around the house. At least for now. Were you worried I was going to put you in big thick cloth diapers for all day? Hmm?”

I nodded slowly not wanting to challenge her, but still voice my concern, “I don’t want to go out in public with diapers on. I’m afraid someone will see me and know. You told me we’d keep this a secret if I cooperated. I’m trying, Amy. I’m trying.”

While we talked, she directly me onto the pile of diapers and began putting them on me. The baby oil felt soothing as she rubbed it into my diaper area and in spite of not wanting to be in public with them the diapers felt almost comforting as she pulled them up between my legs and pinned them tightly.

“Well, baby boy, you aren’t going to have any say in how you’re dressed. If I want to take you out in nice thick cloth diapers, I will. Let ME worry about whether anyone will tell or not. Remember that I really don’t want anyone else but us to know. You’ll just have to trust me, won’t you? Now this afternoon, we’re going to be out for a while. Not that you have the choice yourself, but if I gave you the option, would you want to be in your cute little sissy panties or a diaper? Could you hold your pee-pee and not wet your panties?”

“I…I…I’m not sure. It was awful for me to wear my panties to work all week. I was so afraid I was going to have an accident even when the bathroom was right there. But I don’t want to go out in a diaper. I just know someone will see me and know. Please. Can’t I just stay home?”

Amy smiled, partly in knowing I’d given up thought of actually having a say and instead begging. “Silly little boy! Don’t even think about staying home. And don’t worry about how I’m going to dress you! You’ll see soon enough. For now, you are going to do some laundry and while you’re doing that, dust and vacuum downstairs. Mommy is far too busy taking care of you to do all the work and if you’re going to be living your diaper fantasy, you’re going to have to chip in with the work!”

“Please, Amy, don’t call this my diaper fantasy! I don’t want this. I want things back the way they were…”

She didn’t let me finish. She broke in snapping at me, “Right! You want things the way they were! You want to sneak around behind my back! You want to keep secrets! Is that it? Well, no more! Before last Saturday, this was your fantasy. You posted it clearly on Dailydiapers and other sites too. So now you have your fantasy. You’ve got it and this is only the beginning! There’s more to come.”

I pleaded with her, “No, Amy. I don’t want to hide anything. I told you I was done with diapers. I mean it.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t believe that for an instant. Don’t you think I’ve read other posts that talk about guys having a binge and purge cycle – about other guys who stop for a while, sincerely trying to give it up and yet end up right back in diapers? Do I think you’re any different? You’re just sorry I caught you. You aren’t sorry about wearing and using diapers.”

Again I tried, “Amy, really, I can walk away from diapers. I can. You are far more important to me than diapers. I need you. I don’t need them. Believe me.”

Amy looked at me pitifully for a few seconds, “No, little boy. I don’t believe you. And I’m really bothered that you are trying to deny this. You love your diapers and you know it. And you know what? I’m beginning to love them too! I love the fact that I’ve got you right where you belong. If you irritate me too much I can out you and toss you out! I have the upper hand in the relationship now and I’m loving it! And just to prove that, I’ve got a little surprise for you right now. I don’t know if you’ll love it or not, but here it comes!”

She began to unpin the diaper and fold it down. “What are you going to do, Amy?” With that comment, in went the pacifier and firmly strapped on. “Don’t you dare resist or I’ll double up on your punishment. Do you want this to be your worst day of this past week? It may end up that way anyway, but if you don’t cooperate it will get much worse!”

She retrieved a small box from one of my dresser drawers. “Knees up, little boy!” I felt her finger probe my bottom and soon I felt an intruding finger. What was she doing? “There, that ought to do you some good. This won’t be as disgusting as last Saturday’s enema, but you’ll be pooping your little diaper soon enough. I just gave you a Dulcolax suppository. You’re going to have to finish all your chores this morning before we clean you up, so you might want to hold things in as long as possible. And you’re going to have to clean up the mess. I did put in a liner into your diapers, but I’m sure after wearing them for a while you’ll have quite the mess to take care of.”

I made random unhappy noises into my pacifier as she slipped a pair of plastic panties over my diapers and sat me up to put on a short babyish tee-shirt. As I stood up, I felt the beginning of trouble in my bowels and clenched my cheeks. I didn’t want to admit to Amy that I’d used suppositories before. I knew what was coming and I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up the results. Bending over to sort dirty clothes for the laundry didn’t help any. I tried to maintain a steady clenching of my bottom, but of course there was little I could do. As I knew would be the case, after an initial pressure, I was OK for a while and though I knew this was a false sense of security, I was able to get a load of wash started and had finished dusting the downstairs before the twinges returned to my bowels.

I worked hard to hold my cheeks, but as I bent to take clothes out of the washing machine and put them in the dryer, I felt the inevitable slide even against the tightest I could clench my cheeks. Even as I stood up, I felt the movement and then an explosion as the back of my diapers ballooned. I sighed into my pacifier as my bladder released as well, as it usually did after a bowel movement. Reluctantly, I gave in and continued my chores.

With each step, I could feel the load in my diapers shift and each time I bent over, the warm embrace of my own shameful effluent reminded me that protesting a love of diapers was not getting a good reception from Amy. This was a different story, however. I had another solid hour of work to do before even two loads of wash were done. Thankfully Amy had said that was all I needed to do this morning, but I still had all the vacuuming to do. Never before had I had any desire to stay in a completely soiled diaper like this. Always before, I’d poop myself and then within minutes, clean myself up. I wanted to be clean now, but Amy had other plans and she was in complete control.

I was completely and absolutely miserable by the time I’d finished my morning chores. Amy could clearly see that and was basking in my humiliation and discomfort. Before allowing me a cleanup, I was made to sit and eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into tiny squares. Amy gave me my bottle full of apple juice to drink with my lunch and then took her lunch to the family room, announcing that my stink was so bad, she wondered how I could stand myself. I didn’t bother trying to tell her how much I could NOT stand the smell of myself!

Not daring to move from my chair until told I could, I finished my sandwich and bottle and sat there alone feeling sorry for myself. I was wondering if I’d end up with diaper rash from the sting of my stale poop when finally Amy returned and led me upstairs for a thorough clean up. The liner in the cloth diapers had held most of the poop, but the once pristine cloth diapers were now well stained, especially at the sides where poop had smooshed out of the liner. Even my diaper panties were dirty. I cleaned up what I could, flushing as much of the wad of poop as I could. When the toilet refilled, I left the cloth diapers in the bowl to soak and put the plastic panties into a sinkful of water. I was thankfully allowed a quick shower to thoroughly clean my diaper area.

Out of the shower, Amy put me into more thick diapers and I began to worry that she was going to take me out like that later on in the day. Of course, there was nothing for me to do if she chose to do that and she’d put my pacifier back in my mouth and strapped it tightly, so I couldn’t say anything if I dared.

Later, after swishing out the dirty diapers and putting them into my new diaper pail, I set about cleaning up my plastic panties and hanging them to drip dry. I was made to clean the rest of the bathroom as well and told to spend a solid amount of time making sure the toilet bowl was especially clean after making such a mess. With that chore behind me, Amy then announced she was tired and wanted a nap before we went out. She didn’t want her nap disturbed and since she couldn’t trust me by myself, she took me into the guest room and had me lie down in just my diapers, plastic panties and short tee-shirt she’d put me in after my shower. As I rolled onto the mattress, I heard the tell tale crinkle of plastic beneath the sheets. Amy had prepared this bed specifically for me and to be sure I didn’t get in any trouble, she secured me in the wrist and ankles restraints she’d used on me all last week.

Amazingly I slept very well and was somewhat disturbed to wake up and find myself already beginning to pee into what until then had been my dry diapers. I’d wet again voluminously by the time Amy was up from her nap and had come to let me up. As she began to release me, I knew I’d need a change before going out as promised and I wondered what it would be; sissy panties, disposables or cloth diapers. I dreaded this trip out, regardless of Amy’s decision regarding my underwear.

Link to comment

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...