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Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Depictions of non-consent and other forced actions of a sexual or other type of encounter Emasculation and feminization through various means and to differnt ends Degredation of human anatomy and mental status This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back and I hope everyone had as good of a break as I did! Work was stressful as usual these days, but it’s always nice to get away for a little bit from trying to meet my own personal deadlines, especially after such a large project as my last few stories were with some requiring all the completely new world-building and whatnot. Now, though, it’s just as equally good to be back and writing stories again. Unlike my previous story, due to how the system works here, I needed to be very precise in calculating everything out before I wrote a single word down. That being said, some of these chapters have proven to be temperamental and don’t quite make the page count I thought they were going to or are entirely too long for a single one. So, right now, the total chapter count stands at 27, but this is subject to change. Some of the later chapters are mapped out precisely as they are and won’t change, but some of the chapters in the middle may need to be altered or fleshed out to give more growth to these characters here. Which I guess is all to say that if the final tally of chapters changes at all, I will let you all know. Now, as much joy as I’ve derived from this story so far, I need to mention two caveats. First, I have based this story on a CYOA I found years ago. I’ve looked for the creator for at least five years now, but no such luck. I have also modified it for the story a little, but the concept is still there. Also, I should point out that because of some of the themes here, it will be a little coarser and more mature. I will try to give out warnings before some of the more intense scenes, but be warned, this one is not all fluffy diapers and pink princesses. Next, as is typical these days, I will post the next poll at the start of the following chapter. Looking ahead, I already know that this concept will be a one-off story, so there will not be a sequel in its future. With that in mind, the next poll will contain one DD story and two others that are a little more on the supernatural/spooky side. Because of this, I might try to put out more than three chapters a week and I might take a shorter break, but I think the stories are interesting enough on their own and plus, they have never been shown in one of my polls before. So, be on the lookout for all that next. Also, looking ahead, I’m absolutely tasking myself with writing/editing at least three chapters a week. That being said, with 27 current chapters and at least three a week, this will definitively bump into about mid-October, which means that I will be pausing at least at one point for a multi-day vacation. Once again, I’m headed down to Florida, but this time, it will be for some Halloween-themed events, so you just never know what twisted or fantastical tales I might come back with for new story ideas, so take comfort in the delay with the prospect of at least other future stories from me. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: Starting Off, 35-01 Blindfold. Gag. My hands are behind my back and tied with something… rope, I think. The truck I saw for a brief second before getting hustled up into it has a rusty axel that’s connected to a suspension that bounces heavily each time that we hit a pothole or some other ungodly bump in the road. The sound of cars, machinery… even people… all that vanished at least three hours ago now. In the back of the canvas-drawn over truck, I can feel the intense heat rise all around me as each hour passes and the day creeps on. Thinking back, though, despite my current circumstances, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that this is where I ended up… but really, I just wanted a job again. * * * The suited man opens the door for me and gestures inside. I look and blink a few times at the sparseness of what I’m seeing inside the hole that is the room he is gesturing to. “You’re kidding, right?” The older gentleman glares at me from his at least six inches above me. “No. You want the help… you go inside. No questions asked and you follow the instructions… or you’re out. No exceptions.” I wince a little and even turn around to view the door I just came from. I recite over in my head how to make a quit exit in case I need to. ‘Three lefts, down one floor, and through the main lobby and the security there and then out the front doors.’ There, it would be freedom and the life I had… rather than a barren room of unknown before me. But I also know what’s out there waiting for me beyond those front doors. The world sucks for people in my position, and my pride went out the window the first time another bill came in without the funds to fully back even one or two more of them. Simply put… I’m desperate. So, with a deep plunging breath, I go forward into the room. Once inside, with a sigh, I sit in the far metal chair with my back to a mirror… likely a two-way like an interrogation room. I feel the hair stand up on my neck and a growl inside my stomach… warning me to run, but these people have me cornered with the prospect of opportunity. So, even as the main door closes to this little barren room, I can really only just sit there and squash my horrid feelings deep down. Now alone with my thoughts and trying not to assume or think the worst-case scenario, I look around the room and try and check if this is some trick or a test of some kind. ‘No… no hidden messages on the walls… no pen or paper. Not even a whisper of something I should be listening for.’ It’s just me and the singular metallic desk and two hard metal chairs… both cold and unfeeling as they slightly glint off the single overhead light that slightly pendulums back and forth. Gratefully though, not to long after, the door then reopens, and another suited man comes in with a manilla folder. His expression is mostly neutral but his taught features and cropped haircut reek of ex-military and no nonsense. I could immediately feel a tightness in my stomach, one which I try to will away as I shift slightly in the chair. The man then closes the door and sits down calmly and without even a single word back to me before opening the folder out flat on the table. I immediately notice my photo on the upper right holding on by a single paperclip. “State your name for the record,” he commands, taking out a black-cased pen from the inside of his suit jacket. I swallow hard and wish more than anything that a glass of water would have been right there in front of me in that moment. “Jack… Thomas.” The man pauses and looks up at me with a hint of a hateful and annoyed glared in his eyes. “Your full name, Mr. Thomas.” I hesitate for a moment, hating my middle name… always have, but the man keeps staring at me. Maybe if the room was pastel blue and I hadn’t been frisked on my way in, I might have asked a simple ‘why,’ but my present circumstances tell me that any perceived ‘backtalk’ or questioning would be unwise. “Jack… Marie Thomas.” I can’t help but say my middle name with a slight distaste in my mouth. ‘Stupid family name…’ As typically happens, as I say it out loud, despite likely knowing it beforehand and just confirming my identity, even the stern man before me seems to find my middle name amusing… Ultimately though, he says nothing about it. He then uses his pen to go through several more verifications of my identity… social security, gender, age. All typical for someone trying to confirm I am who I say I am. Working for the government before, all that at least doesn’t faze me. But then comes the questions afterward. At first, they seem pretty normal for someone in my situation… like how long I have been unemployed, or, what my financial situation looks like, but then they start to veer towards the realm of being highly uncomfortable as why they would even need to be asked in the first place. Questions like, “Do you have heart troubles?” or “Do you have any family that miss you if you were absent?” are among the more particularly alarming. Finally, after he asks me if I’ve ‘had any surgeries,’ I can’t take it any longer. “Okay!” I shout, standing up and forcing my chair backward toward the likely two-way mirror. “No more questions! I’ve answered everything from my size to sexual preference to even if I have any allergies to medications or latex! What the hell does that have anything to do with finding a job?” The suited man glares at me and calmly stands up, towering over me. “Sit down, Mr. Thomas. These are all vital questions, I assure you… and we’re almost done.” His calm presence slightly infuriates me and only adds to my already-present anger. “Sit down? That’s all?” I smack the table. “Screw this, mister! I’m getting out of here right this second!” I march toward the door, but as my hand touches the doorknob, the man speaks up once more. “Mr. Thomas… Jack.” He calmly walks over to me and stands right up against my left side, staring down at me… not with rage or annoyance, but almost a calm passivity of a parent to a child. It more than halts my efforts in leaving right away. “You will find no locks on these doors or any others in this building toward the exit. You are free to go anytime you please...” Determined and still disturbed, my hand turns the knob. “Well, then. I’m getting the hell out of…” “But I encourage you to stay,” he says resolutely in a way that stops my hand cold… almost like he knows something I don’t. He then walks back over to the desk and retrieves my file before switching it to one of the pages on the left side. “It says here you’ve been out of a job for about a month now, which you also just confirmed for me. I’ll stop the questions, but… let’s talk about that for a second.” He pauses briefly. “Promise. Nothing more.” I hesitate to move back to the table, but I at least remove my hand from the doorknob and reface him. If nothing else, he seems happy about that. “Good. Now, come back to the table and sit down. Or stand… I just want to lay out your options here, Mr. Thomas.” I grumble and nearly leave on the spot, but there’s an odd quality about this man that makes me stay. I don’t know what it is, but that intangible quality eases me up a little. So, at least curious now, I walk back over to my chair… but I don’t sit down. “Very good, Mr. Thomas.” He calmly flips through several pages in my file. “So, again… you were laid off from your job about a month ago, correct?” “Correct,” I confirm, feeling a little deflated at admitting that. “I knew it was coming though. I’ve been working part-time for almost eight months now. Budget cuts and all…” The suited man nods. “Yes. The economy isn’t doing wonders at the moment and there have been several cuts to federal programs. Seems like your program was hit but you managed to linger on… at least until last month.” “Yes,” I admit, my ego deflating even more. “And from your earlier confirmation and from what it says from the application you filled out online that you’ve been looking for a job since then?” he asks before looking up at me. “But nothing since?” I shake my head. “Nothing serious. Small positions. Some part-time work I’m looking at in the meantime, but… I need something more. You can’t live in this area without something steady anymore.” “Yes…” The suited man’s eyes nearly seem to glow with opportunity, happiness, and another quality underneath that would amount to something nearly sinister. I focus on that last bit. “I see all that on your file here. Some college debts remaining… ouch on those, but a car payment… three years from paying off, and…” He looks back up at me and squints his eyes. “No savings?” I shake my head, and I feel I can’t sink any lower now in this room, sitting in the chair in a slump of built-up defeat before this mysterious figure… a deflated and defeated individual. “No… I have some savings, but… the form asked if I had less than $1000 in savings… which I do. So, yes, some saving, but not enough to check off the box indicating something higher.” “I see… so practically nothing and you’re living on fumes now as well…” He doesn’t wait for me to respond as my silence does plenty of talking alone. “So, you see, Mr. Thomas… when I ask you these questions… I know they may be intrusive, but honestly, this is for a government position and what amounts to an ultimate handout. With the economy and layoffs recently, I’m sure you can understand that we have many candidates in search of work or money these days.” He lets his points hang in the air for a moment, each one a painful reminder of my desperation and how close I am to failing completely. I wished I could say I had backups or a plan to bail me out, but that would be a lie. My parents are far away and broke themselves after sinking their money into some long-term investment. My brother is too busy with his wife and a new kid on the way… and we aren’t even that close. And friends? Well, I’m not exactly a social butterfly and the loss of my job hasn’t helped with that any in finding new ones. The suited man has me cornered and while the door is unlocked… it might as well be a safe door as far as I’m concerned for leaving through it now. Despite my apprehension, I know that this is one of the few chances I have to get out of the hole I’m digging myself further into every day. And terribly, the suited man knows it. His underlying smile, so subtle as to almost even be unseen, ripples along and emphasizes my desperation and his next question. “So… may I continue?” Submissive to his whims and with the knowledge that I have nowhere else to turn, I merely nod my head. He smiles, but this time his glee is obvious over my compliance with what he wants. “Excellent. Now,” he flips another page from the right side of my file, “do you have any fetishes… sexual deviancies? I really try not to judge… Purely for the record.” An hour later I’m back out on the street in Washington D.C. It’s been my home for years now, but lately it’s felt more like a self-contained prison. Each Brutalist building contrasts heavily with the Greek Revival ones, but each seems like a slap in my face now as I pass by them. ‘That’s where I used to work…’ is my constant theme these days, and each day that passes without a solid job, those words feel more distant. So, in an attempt to blur my lines of what is real and what is crushing, I head to the nearest bar I can remember. It’s a small little thing and usually a pretty quiet behind the Archives building… mostly a place for stuffy politicians or glassy eye curators. For me, though, I just order a beer and sigh as I look down into it and the bubbles fizzing up from the bottom. It’s a small distraction, but it still work its magic and let’s me forget for a second… “Pretty shit, huh?” the bartender asks out loud, catching me off guard. I look up with bleary eyes and squint back at him as he polishes off another glass with his dish towel. “Huh?” He gestures to the nearby small TV, almost looking at odds with the rest of the older style bar in the district. Still, unlike most others in the city, it displays the news instead of sports. Most newcomers request to change it, but that’s not what this place is about, and they’re always shot down. In this place, it’s all about governmental policy and change. So, when I look up at the TV and see yet another news report, it’s not surprising, but the headline opens my eyes more than I care to admit. “Government eases testing standards for new programs.” It could be worse, especially in the modern climate, but still… it makes me wonder. “Hard to believe. Maybe chickens won’t be tested as well or something. Saving a buck or two, I guess…” I shrug, not really knowing the answers and not being surprised by most anything on the news anymore. The bartender eyes a nearby chicken sandwich with more than a little unease but ultimately collects it and comes back. “Maybe, but… ready for another round tonight?” He gestures at the once full beer in my hands currently. I sigh and stare at my nearly empty glass. I want another, but ultimately, I shake my head. “No, would love to but…” I don’t finish my thoughts and simply pull out my only 20-dollar bill and hand it over. From the change I get back, I am sure to still leave a decent tip. I might be screwed these days, but I just can’t find it in myself to tip poorly. I walk back to my apartment rather than taking the metro. It saves me a little money, and the walking feels good… despite the fact that the weather is unseasonably warm for this time of year. It especially doesn’t help as I make my way up the flight of stairs and to my actual apartment. Little beads of sweat are already pouring from my forehead as my keys turn to my barebones living space. With my previous job, I was never here much before, so I never felt the need for more. Now though, especially as I immediately go back to job hunting and checking my email, it feels especially lonely. Tonight however, while I’m looking through my emails, I see what I’ve been looking for now for a month. The newest email in my inbox blinks and is all in bold. “Your application has been accepted.” It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping up and down in joy after reading the header of the fresh and beautiful email message. “Yes! Finally!” I briefly stifle my joy and check out the job… just in case of spam. To my utter relief, it seems all legitimate. So, not wasting a second, I quickly reply back to set up an interview. My hand nearly shakes the whole time I’m writing the email back to them. I can feel the electricity of the potential in the moment. It feels like… freedom… opportunity. Once I hit send though, I allow the waves of euphoria to fully pour through me. I’m electric… thrilled… jubilant. I jump up and after even do a little dance before snapping my fingers. “This calls for a celebration!” So, once more, I grab my keys and head out my door to the nearest convenience store. It’s small and a little dingy around the back, but they have a great selection of chips and ice cream… perfect for a little late night snack celebration. I almost go for chocolate and cherry, but considering the heat and the occasion though, I grab my favorite flavor of chocolate and peanut butter. It feels so good to clutch that pint of cold deliciousness in my hand and I even whistle slightly as I checkout. “Man, I wish I could be that happy about something,” the store owner tells me. “Oh, it feels great,” I acknowledge. “Just got a job application back and I’m waiting to set up an interview. I can honestly say that it’s the best news I’ve had in a month.” The store owner’s eyes light up and he smiles wide. “Congratulations, sir! Best of luck to you on that,” he says, handing me the receipt with nearly a bounce in his words now. Most people know the horrible state of the economy and the huge numbers of joblessness. An interview was always great before, but these days… it’s an even bigger deal. I smile even wider and take my receipt. “Thank you! I really think things are just about to turn the corner for me…” I then exit the store and head back to my apartment. I’m humming along the darkened street… a few lights out from the lack of maintenance. Crime is up in the area, but my apartment isn’t far, and I almost have developed sixth sense about these things by now. But I’m happy. That wouldn’t be a problem normally, but I’m nearly in bliss. There’s something so alluring and free about the prospect of an interview for me. It’s a light at the end of the tunnel and a beacon of hope I can turn toward through the rough storms that is my life at the moment. It should all be grand. I’m even whistling a bit once again and focusing just on what is in front of me. I’m distracted. I don’t hear the crack of a twig on the sidewalk behind me like I normally would. I don’t pay attention to the rubber turning on the pavement off to the side or the deft footsteps on the alleyway down on my left. I’m oblivious to all other things other than my own happiness that yes, I’ve turned the corner in life. Yes, most absolutely, things will be different. Turns out… just not in the way that I wanted. The personnel that surround me are very quick. Professional, burly, and imposing masked figures. They bear no insignia, and I can’t make anything out of them except their maybe six inches to a foot in height and maybe 30 pounds of muscle over me at least. One gets me from behind and places their hand over my mouth with some kind of cloth. Two go for my arms quickly after and lock me into place. The fourth goes for my legs in a vice-like grip. I can’t move and I’m being hauled away… right down the darkened alleyway and into a van. I try to scream. I try to flail around… but it’s useless. I’m useless. I’m packed into the black van in seconds, and I hear the side sliding door crunch over on its tracks and then slam shut before the vehicle lurches away. I barely move with how I’m still being held. No voices around me. Just hand signals and quick and efficient meaty hands that go to work around me. I’m locked in and I can’t do anything about it. Darkness starts to envelop me. The van is dark and curtains black out most of the light, but quickly, I know with terrifying horror that this is something more. My limbs become heavy. The fight inside me begins to fade whether I wish for it or not. I want to kill these people… at least scratch or beat them senselessly and flee back into the night and up to the relative safety of my apartment. But those are the actionable desires of someone fully conscious. Simply put, that isn’t me anymore. A hand is still over my mouth. Though the edges of my world begin to blur, I still smell something chemical in front of me. ‘The white rag covering my mouth and nose must be laced with something.’ There’s no other rational explanation for how I’m feeling right now. It’s a terrible sinking feeling in my gut. But it doesn’t matter. The figure that was once holding my legs now comes over to me, and while the van is still mostly black, a flash of light streams in from the front and highlights the metallic cylinder precariously balanced in their hands. The needle at the tip almost seems to sparkle and drip with something magical and yet unwanted. I’m not a genius, but it doesn’t take one to realize what is about to happen. With my last efforts of strength, I thrash about. But again, I’m useless. Before, it was the locked position of the personnel holding and pinning me in place. Now, I feel their grip is still locked but now significantly loosened. If anything, my efforts against them come off as simply pathetic. So, whether I wish it or not, the person takes advantage of my uselessness and weakness and comes forward. Before I can even attempt to scream out, he quickly jabs the needle right into my arm. It burns heavily and I wince and try to scream in pain as it plunges deep. But again, I’m useless. I’m powerless to stop anything, and worse… the blackness, at first creeping, now surges forward around my vision like a crashing wave. Now, there is nothing more. I feel nothing. I am nothing. * * * The bumps that jostled me awake earlier are no less smooth now than they were previously from what had to be at least three hours ago. I have to pee something fierce but the truck I’m bound, gagged, and blindfolded in has shown no signs of stopping. Occasionally, I hear something on the radio or hushed whispers, but that’s about it. I could forgive anyone from thinking that it meant I didn’t know anything. True, I couldn’t hear or really touch anything, but my other senses were ever more focused. I had watched a documentary last year about a woman who fled her kidnapper and because she remembered the sound of a train going by not long before the car she was in stopped, the police were able to later apprehend her kidnapper. So, drawing at least a few parallels between our situations, as soon as I had come to my senses, I tried to figure out anything I could in this less-than-ideal situation. The road was rough and bumpy. As I noted before, it’s what jostled me awake after I had passed out in D.C., but that was another prominent thing. Also, yes, it was summer in D.C., and the old swamp area was particularly humid, but now… it is still hot around me, but more of a dry heat. I feel the sweat accumulate slightly around my body in the back of the truck… likely poorly ventilated and maybe even open to the outside in places. I’m not entirely sure about that, but the heat and lack of humidity tell me that I’m nowhere near to where I live. Potentially problematic, yes, but also telling. Loving to travel, I’ve been to most of the surrounding states near D.C., and what’s absolutely certain, nowhere right now is receiving dry heat as their weather forecast right now. It’s either something akin to the swamps of Satan or the near drownings of a wretched batch of storms in the areas… not this. So, I begin to check off in my mind where I could be. ‘Definitely west of the Appalachian Mountains… but no cold or extreme breezes of the Rockies… plus maybe too far. Back roads definitely… so not near a city. No traffic lights either, since we haven’t stopped once, so that kills a lot of places as well. Figure a straight drive since last night and the amount of heat… intense and not boiling but growing… means early or midday… but that also would only place me somewhere along just east of the Mississippi longitude from when I was kidnapped last night to now.’ I paused and winced. ‘No… that’s not right, so… crap. Was I out for a whole day already? My bladder… shit. I’m even further west. Maybe a full day then… Still a big area though. Doesn’t narrow it down too much, but it’s something.’ I hope I’m wrong in most of that in a way, since going to a barren area hardly ever spelled something good, but considering I was kidnapped already… my luck doesn’t seem that good. The truck bounces me about a few more times and my need to pee is near to the bursting point. I try thinking about almost anything else, but that’s proving an issue. Between my hunger, my bladder, and my confinement, I nearly feel bugs crawling over my skin in a near phantom itch to move… to run. Just… anything more than this. I try to speak, but the gag prevents anything but a muffled sound emitting instead of the pleas to let me go or at least let me move around that I truly intend. It does attract the attention of my kidnappers though… “Hey, you!” a gruff voice nearly growls at me. “Cut that out. We’re almost there, so just sit tight. We can’t hurt you, but we can make your last moments out here very miserable.” I feel a hand shove me slightly back. “So… what’s it going to be? Stay calm or are we going to have to get… creative?” I sense his threat is exactly that. There was no hesitation or even any signs of a bluff on his part. This man, whoever he is, seems to have both done this before and be pretty okay with it and whatever else was necessary in his role to subdue me. So, weighing my options, considering my current state of being trapped, mute, and blind… I settle down and don’t say a word. The man chuckles. “Good boy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet…” His words do nothing to help the already pent-up and dreading feeling I had since I had been taken. Still, despite his gruffness and threats to use possibly violence or torture or some other nasty thing against me, the man was at least telling the truth that we would soon arrive. The van quickly lurches to a stop. A few shuffling noises later, my blindfold is finally removed. I have to blink a few seconds as the light streams all around me from the windows in the front and the back. I find it strange that the van is so open like that now as compared to last night with the curtains on the windows, but the figures in front of my vision fully distract me from any further thoughts on the matter. Masked and geared to the hilt, they exude an ex-military vibe that I often saw in my previous job when dealing with mercenaries and security personnel we contracted out for our safety sometimes. Not saying a word, the lead man then points out the door that is soon opened. More light floods in and I look back to the man who gestured to the door for more answers. I’m not sure why he isn’t just using his words, but at this point, I remember the veiled threat before. Whatever this is, I absolutely don’t want to make it uncomfortable… or at least more so than it already is. The man simply waves his hand at me out the door. I take his meaning this time to exit the vehicle. I’m still gagged, and my hands are bound together tightly… uncomfortably at this point, but again, I don’t want to cause any more problems for myself. Simply put… between the dry heat, the backroads, lack of traffic lights, and the amount of time it took to get here and stop, I don’t like my chances of escape. Terrifyingly, my suspicions are confirmed when I exit the vehicle. Desert… or at least at best a barren wasteland of dried-up prairies stretches for what seems like miles in all directions. Hazy mountains flank to the west, and to the east… nothing. I think I see a shimmering glint of maybe a tower… a fence… something, but definitely not civilization. If anything, even those signs of something else seem to reinforce the barrenness of where I’m currently standing. Another masked and geared man comes up to me and holds up a tablet of sorts near my head before glaring right at me. “Confirm… Jack Maria Thomas,” he directs right as another man removes the gag from my mouth from behind. I smack my mouth together a few times in an effort to remove the nasty threads left on my tongue. I can already feel the dryness of a lack of water from all that time, but I also see the masked man’s eyes. Sharp, focused… full of duty, sternness, and no-nonsense. I saw the same in the other man and I know not to screw around, but I know I need to try. “Please… just let me go and…” “Confirm,” he presses again, this time with a small amount of anger behind his voice and one of his fingers seemingly itching toward the stock of the gun he’s carrying as well. I swallow hard at the scene, and I nod as fast as I can. “Yes… that’s me.” I take a breath. “But what…?” “Silence.” His voice isn’t annoyed, angry, or even shrill like I might has expected. Just more to the point and focused on the task he seemingly has to perform. To me, it seems we both have our roles to fill… ‘Definitely not the overall leader of this thing.’ The man taps a few more things on the tablet before him, before strangely looking dismayed. I almost question him, but with everything going on around me, my thoughts bounce from one subject to the next and his looks take a momentary backseat. My vision moves from the desert landscape to the horizon line, to the distant mountains, to the men with guns… and then even to what I am currently wearing. Before, back in D.C., I was still wearing the suit I had worn to the interview earlier in the day. I had removed the suit jacket once I got home, but the button-up shirt and pants were definitely still attached to me. Now, they’re gone and in their place is a faded green prison jumpsuit of sorts. I swallow hard at the implications… Finally looking up from his tablet, the man looks at me once more. “Okay… here’s your situation. In a moment, you’re going to a bunker of sorts. You will be there for one year, and at the end… you’ll get a substantial payout for your services.” I frown back at him in confusion, but I keep my mouth shut, my eyes still drifting to the rifle attached to his body. ‘Definitely not where I thought this was going…’ “I see you have questions,” the man notes, stepping closer to me, “but they will have to wait. We need to do two things right now. First, know there are only three ways out of this.” He holds up one finger. “First… quit. You do that and all the money reserved for you at the end will be forfeited, and you will receive no government assistance of any kind afterward.” He holds up a second finger. “Two… flee. You try to escape, and…” He pivots over and points to the shiny point at the distance I had seen earlier. “You see that?” I quickly nod. “Good. That’s a watch tower. They’re all around you,” he notes menacingly as he gestures in a circle around where we’re standing before he rests his hand on his large gun. “They have guns just like this one… or even much larger. You escape; they have the option to shoot you on sight. You survive; you go back and incur a penalty… a harsh one.” He glares at me. “I wouldn’t suggest that route.” I wince but note internally that there’s still one more option. “And third?” I ask hesitantly, the first two options seeming truly terrible and hoping beyond measure that somehow the third would be more reasonable. “Third…” He smirks down at me, his few inches of height over me seemingly a lot more in our current roles. “Well, third is that you finish the year here. It might seem like a burden and impossible in the days ahead, but considering the others, I would still recommend option three.” Again, I quickly nodded. Another person, feistier and more combative might have fought, but that wasn’t me. I was trying to use my head, and simply put, I saw my options and the remoteness of where I was. Fight, escape, and flee, but to where? Out here, even if I managed to avoid the towers with big guns, my survival out here wouldn’t be guaranteed in the slightest. So, as much as a little voice inside my head was telling me to, my instincts told me as plain as day that fighting back would be pointless… foolhardy at best. “Very good. Maybe there’s hope for you after all…” He smirks and turns back to his tablet before holding it back up to me. “Now then… in you go…” I blink back at the man and look around. “Go? Go where?” The man points nearby and while I have to squint my eyes to see it, only about thirty yards away is what amounts to a slit in the ground. Only about 20 feet long, I see the ground plunges inward and leads to a submerged door right under the surface of the soil above. All of it concrete… devoid of emotion… uninviting. I feel a cold splinter of fear enter my heart. “Wha… what’s down there?” I ask, a weakness and subsequent trembling sensation beginning to take over my limbs as the true measure of my situation begins to unfold before my eyes. “That…” the man noted smugly. “That… is your new home for the next year… or at least the entrance to it.” He pauses for a minute, but me still not budging, the man then scowls back at me and raises his rifle barrel to my chest. “Now… I said to move. Or are you going to be giving us a problem already?” I see his rifle. I see the desperation of my situation being stuck in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by towers that had ‘shoot on sight’ orders. It was horrible, but it was that or the unfeeling bunker-like entrance now before me. Underground and heavy duty… there now seemed to be a permanence to my situation that I hadn’t felt before. I didn’t want to go down there. That’s for sure. I had read and heard about these things before… down there meant torture or death or imprisonment. I would be lucky to ever see the sun again. But… the gun in the hands of a scowling and tough ex-military masked figure before me presents an unmistakable choice, death or compliance. Unlike the previous man in the van before, the one in front of me had made no such promises of not hurting me. Somehow, the van ride now felt like the preliminary phase of all this, but now that I was here, the stakes of it all… the reality and actual event seem to be at my feet now. I didn’t like it… but I knew my options… and their limits. So, I meekly raise my still-bound hands as best to surrender and walk over to the entrance… no fight… no protest… Again, despite him still aiming his gun center-point at my chest, he smiles and soon follows me over to the slit in the ground that is to be my ‘home’ for the next year. Stopping right before the steps to the door, I turn around and hold my bound wrists up. “Can I… well, can I at least be free before I go down?” I try to widen my eyes and seem as desperate as possible. I want to stay strong, but I felt there was a wide gap between entering the creepy bunker with my hands bound versus them free. So, I had to try at least. There’s a grumble and an annoyance from my masked captors, but the main leader nods his head to one of the other men behind me. This new masked man comes at me hard and quickly flicks out a long knife from one of his chest pockets. It shines underneath the desert sun; glinting and deadly. I wince and shut my eyes… painfully aware that I’ve likely lost the protection that was once promised to me before. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, with everything going on, I’m no longer taking anything for granted… not even my safety or my life. But the man only ambles over, roughly takes my wrists, and cuts the rope that was binding them together. I open my eyes and see my now free wrists. “Thank you…” I muster out. The man only grunts and turns away… leaving the leader to point his gun once more at me. “Alright… you’re free. Now, down you go.” Again, his actions are clear, and his gun speaks the volumes that he doesn’t. It says threat and deadly force is now authorized on my hide. It says this is serious business and whatever awaits me in the hole, in case I already knew what was happening, isn’t going to be much better… or at least to the point where they would need to threaten me with entering or face down death itself. I rationalize that most things are better than death and then place my foot on the first step going down. My knees wobble as I turn around full now and head down the stairs. The morning sun begins to arc overhead and fill the hole with light, showing off all the dust floating around in such a barren climate. I see the door ahead of me… it’s shine in stark contrast to the rusted stains on the concrete around it… almost like the place had recently been repurposed… like I was the first guest to come here in years and precautions to keep me in needed to be upgraded. Seeing all that, my hands tremble as they reach out to the large wheel to open the door before me now. But, just in case, I turn around and look one last time at the leader. “I…” I don’t get to finish my thought… my counter to all this, hoping to plead one more time to leave. Instead, the man points his gun at me, but this time… he also makes sure to place his eye along the top rail of the gun, aiming at me with deadly precision. His new actions are clear to me now. Get into this bunker-like structure underground now and be a smear against the door instead. With such an ultimatum, I snap back to the door. I reach out with both hands this time and turn the wheel. It creaks and moans in an awfully hellish way like I am about to enter the very bowels and devilry of the earth. My stomach drops more, and I feel a single bead of sweat perspire on my forehead as the wheel finally budges. It turns and turns some more… the door finally opening. Inside is just another set of stairs downward. Darkness enshrouds more than a few feet, and I hesitate, but my ears pick up the faintest clicking noise. With my last job and growing up with a few who took me to a shooting range, I knew that sound… it was a gun loading its ammo… the weapon aligning with the bullet. Next stop, my head… my body. I have no choice. I don’t even turn around this time to plead to be let go or question a thing. I simply walk forward to my fate, sheer blinding light behind me and nothing but cold concrete and darkness before me. I swallow hard and give myself over to be swallowed by the earth and whatever this place is. Fully in, the door slams behind me. To my relief a few lights flicker on ahead of me. The stairs don’t descend as far as I originally thought but the ominous cramped feeling of all this place gives me a terrible case of claustrophobia. I immediately want out, but a quick turn of my head only reveals a thoroughly shut door behind me… and no handle or even a wheel to let myself out even if I chose that option and forfeited the end prize. Now, whether I want it or not, I’m truly trapped. Suddenly, a speaker overhead crackles to life. The sound coming from it takes a second to synch and come in as more than static, but even in the old-fashioned clicks and echoes of a speaker system at least thirty years old now sounds like, the words are very clear. “Keep moving.” I don’t know why, but I merely nod my head in compliance. I can’t go back. The sealed door and lack of egress proves that at least ten times over in my head. I can only go forward, and now with the lights… it’s not just wandering around blindly in the dark. It’s a concession for sure as to how far I’ve fallen into this terrible plot seemingly against me, but again… I feel I have no choice, or at least not a real one... Wandering down the staircase, holding onto the rail the entire time, I eventually come to a landing zone of sorts before another door. The speaker in front of me this time crackles once more. “Scan your hand on the pad in front of you.” I look and that beyond the grungy metal fittings and the leaking concrete in places, there is a brand-new electronic system… right next to where there is a large pad. It blinks a few times and then stops. Looking around, I don’t see any traps, so, I sigh and place my hand on the pad as instructed. The pad hums and blinks a few times before turning green. “Excellent,” the voice behind the speaker says once more. “You may proceed inside.” A hiss follows and the large metallic door before me opens wide. “Step in,” the voice calls out overhead. Not wanting to stay any longer in the hallway than I need to, I step inside… only to wish I saw just about anything else. Inside is only what I could describe as a jail cell. A simple plastic-like faded green bed has been shoved against one wall. The most basic metallic and uninviting toilet and sink are against another. A barred door is at the other end and as if I didn’t remember for whatever reason, the other door behind me slams and hisses close. Curiously, as I turn back, I am only greeted by a flat wall with a single seem around the edges of where the door had opened up. It’s all cold, barren, and unfeeling… except the electronic device in the corner of the room. Compared to everything else, it seems out of place. Not much larger than an oversized notebook, it blinks to life, and a single plain computerized image of a person appears. “Come here,” the voice from before says without emotion, now sounding more like a computer recording than an actual human being. I step forward cautiously and for whatever reason, I wave at the thing. “Hello?” “Greetings… candidate 35-01.” Again, the voice grates and there’s almost a synthetic whine behind it as well. “Please confirm identity and place hand on screen where indicated.” Like before, I see the blinking panel just to the left of the computerized plain head staring back at me. I sigh and place my hand where instructed. “Jack Marie Thomas.” I was starting to get annoyed at having to say my name… particularly my middle name, so often. A ping goes off and the voice returns. “Welcome, 35-01… Mr. Thomas. You have been selected by the government from a contest of over a thousand candidates to participate in a year long study and observation, known to authorities as ‘Operation Hebe.’ During this time, you will be required to make certain selections in order to facilitate your life… benefits or consequences.” The screen then changes to a counter, but to my dismay it starts simply at 100 and then counts down to only 5. “These are your starting points. As you will see, think of these as a money system of sorts. The more you have, the more you can obtain. All candidates are assigned what you will find labeled as the ‘jail cell.’ You may opt out of this at any time but know that your points can never equal less than zero. Answer, ‘acknowledge’ that you understand this.” Seeing the numbers count down to only 5 quickly gives me an uneasy feeling in all this. I feel queasy… faint and dizzy too. I nearly fall over right then, but I place one hand against the wall at the last second and take a deep breath. “Acknowledge.” The words feel like poison over my tongue, but I don’t see many other ways out. “Recorded.” The screen then flickers briefly and then changes to a large screen with several labels on it. Even in my brief look before it flashes away, I see two labels… listed as ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners.’ “What the fu…?” “Please, 35-01,” the electronic and mostly faceless voice interrupted. “Look through these first few categories that are mandatory. We will give you some time to choose as we know this may be a shock to your system, but your non-compliance will be met with punishment.” The screen flashes back to the selection options. ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners’ appears, but so do others before the screen switches once again to one labeled at the top as ‘Medicine Effects at 6 Months.’ My eyes instantly widen in shock at the options… particularly with the flashing ‘Selection of One Mandatory’ sign near the top, highlighted all in red. “Hair growth? Incontinence? Penis shrinkage? IQ drop?” I yell out at the screen to where I once saw the lifeless computerized head of the only voice I had been hearing down here. “What the hell is this place?” I smack the bars next to the screen, but there is no response. It’s just me here… me alone with these horrid options. Me alone in a self-described ‘jail cell.’ Me alone after being kidnapped and now confirmed to be part of the government. I slump on the bed in realization of everything clicking together. “The government… the interview I did…” Me, the homeless, ex-government employee walked right into this trap. I wanted a job, and now… for the next year, I seemed to have one. My mind swirled, but it didn’t last long. “35-01. Please make your choice. You now have one hour to make your choices… or suffer the subsequent punishments,” it calls out, its electronics seeming fragile in this state as it droned on. I look over at the still-flashing screen and the selection I have to make. Considering the methods that were employed to get me here… the guns… the towers… the desert… even the bunker I was now in. It all leads me to the same conclusion… punishments mean business here and finding out what they were was ill-advisable to say the least. I sigh and stand up. “Fuck… this is going to be a very bad year…”

At his wife's insistent request, Ben had taken a week off from work. She had been pressuring him to use some of his stockpiled vacation times for several months, with various means of motivation employed. Sometimes she would remind him that his loving wife and daughter hardly got to feel like a family in his absence. Others she would bring up her recent promotion, and how her new position's lavish salary would permit them both significantly more latitude in their schedules. Still others she would bring out a sultry purr and tempt him with the ways that Mistress could make the most of a vacation. And now her myriad tactics had paid off, for it was mid-morning on a Friday, and Ben lay nude on his back upon the bedcovers.His wife Amy was clad in a black leotard with long sleeves, high-cut legs, and a turtleneck over sheer black tights, straddling him with a leather plug gag in her hands. "Open wide, honey," she purred, and Ben obliged, allowing the fat rubber plug to fill his mouth. Amy took plenty of time doing up each leather strap around her husband's head, securing the gag before planting a kiss on the panel over his lips. Ben was eagerly erect already as Amy slipped a white leather hood over his head and neck. The hood encased his head snugly, revealing only an oval of skin around his eyes. "Mmmphh," Ben whined, testing the gag. "Hmmmghh..."Delighted with how thoroughly she'd hushed him, Amy gave her husband's manhood a playful squeeze. "Oh, hush you," she mock-chided, picking up a heavy cotton duck straitjacket from the bed. She slipped its long sleeves, which were sewn shut at the ends, down Ben's willing arms, and guided his limbs through the loops on the white jacket's chest. After pulling all the slack from those loops, she rolled a cooperative Ben onto his back. Amy zipped the jacket all the way up the back. Its high neck overlapped with the white leather hood and felt pleasantly restrictive around Ben's throat. She secured the sleeves to immobilize her husband's arms, though she left the crotch strap alone for now and simply rolling him onto his back once more.Given a moment to think as his wife vanished into the bathroom for who knew what reason- not that he could protest, anyway- Been realized that he wasn't wearing the usual straitjacket. This one had a fleece lining that felt comfortable against his skin, and a high-cut waist. The hem of the high-collared straitjacket didn't quite reach his navel. Ben could only wonder at why his wife desired such qualities in a straitjacket, and the thoughts vanished from his mind anyway at Amy's return.She wore latex medical gloves and toted an oversized white leather purse, which she plopped down on the bed. From within, the red-haired dominatrix extracted a flannel-covered rubber mat, lifting her husband's legs with an elbow around the ankles and slipping it under him so his bottom and legs rested upon the soft pad. Then she produced from the bag a bottle of, of all things, shaving cream, which she squirted liberally into her latex-gloved palms and began applying to Ben's bare legs. "Hold still," she ordered.In no position to argue, Ben simply let his legs be stripped of hair, staying still as commanded to avoid incurring nicks from the razor. Amy applied a cream to his newly bare thighs and shins, which tingled pleasantly, then set about shaving his midriff. The mystery of why his jacket exposed that region was resolved, though in its place were countless questions. Finally, Amy carefully stripped his crotch and bum of all hair, using plenty of shaving lotion to protect his skin and following up with a generous slathering of protective salve. "You look so cute all smooth like this," Amy cooed. Ben's member swelled to attention as his Mistress massaged the ointment into his length.Then, the morning's events took an unexpected turn. Amy got out a container of talcum powder and shook a lavish layer over her spouse's crotch, kneading it into the hairless flesh before rolling him onto his tummy to give his behind the same thorough treatment.Rolled onto his back, Ben lost all confusion, but became filled with dread. Amy had before her a stack of three disposable diapers, as well as a soaker pad and a set of white rubber panty briefs. "Hmmmgghh!" Ben whined, squirming helplessly in his straitjacket. "Mmmmgghh!" Amy simply smirked domineeringly down at him, opening the first disposable and fitting it with the soaker pad. "Don't bother throwing a little tantrum," she purred, pinching his member with a thumb and forefinger at the base. Been whimpered meekly, growing flaccid at the painful press of his Mistress's sharp nails. "You'll just have to get used to wearing diapers," Amy stated, slipping the thick disposable diaper beneath his hairless buttocks. Tucking his manhood between his legs, the redhead pinned it against his body by sealing the diaper, durable tapes holding it shut. The diaper was tight as could be, a perpetual reminder to Ben of his humiliating state, and came up to the high waist of his straitjacket, encasing his belly in thick padding."With my new promotion, I make enough money that you don't have to work anymore," Any explained. "So you're going to give up your life and become my incontinent diaper boy." Been screamed in helpless frustration, bucking and writhing in the unyielding confines of his jacket. Amy simply allowed him to wear himself out struggling in vain, then planted a kiss on his leather-clad cheek. "Surely you see how pointless struggle is," she said sweetly. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep you diapered at all hours." Ben's diaper had a porous outer shell, the purpose of which was made evident when Amy opened a second one and sealed it over the outside of the first. A third diaper covered them both, this one with a waterproof plastic outer. Under three layers of diapers, Ben's tummy, bottom, and tucked-back penis felt even more snugly squeezed.Lastly, Amy applied the white rubber panties, though she had some difficulty fitting them over Ben's enormous diaper bulk. The panties were high-waisted with a full-cut leg, so they completely encased his triple diapers to prevent any leaks. With the sheer bulk of the diapers they encased, the white panty briefs looked like they'd been inflated. "Don't you just look adorable in diapers?" Amy teased, doing up the straitjacket's crotch strap. "This whole outfit just suits you absolutely- as will total incontinence."Ben grumbled into his rubber plug gag, but he was quickly hushed by necessity. Amy retrieved a bottle of translucent yellow fluid from her purse. Its top sported a thin tube, which fitted perfectly into a narrow channel in Ben's plug gag. "Drink up," the dominatrix cooed, squirting the bottle's contents into her husband's mouth. Been had no choice but to swallow all of the sickly sweet juice. "Like it?" Any taunted. "I hope so, because you'll be drinking a lot of it. It's a special mix of diuretics, laxatives and stool softeners, and sweet lemonade. Everything a boy needs to become incontinent." Been was made to drink another bottle of the juice. Then Amy unzipped a zipper on the leather hood, exposing her husband's gagged mouth, and popped the plug free, wiping it clean of drool. About to protest incoherently into the ring gag that remained in his mouth, Ben was silenced by a bottle with a much wider spout. Ben was forced to ingest a thick, chocolatey sludge that reminded him of protein shakes, and though he felt unpleasantly full after the first serving, Amy force-fed him a second bottle before sealing his gag with the plug and rezipping his hood. "That's your new diet," the redhead declared. "All the calories and nutrients a boy needs, plus all those drugs that will help you give in." Been shuddered at the prospect of consuming those thick shakes every day. Given two more bottles of juice as a chaser, Been felt intolerably bloated. "You'll be eating and drinking quite frequently, sweetie," Amy explained. "With how often you'll eliminate, you'll need plenty of food to hang on to enough calories."Ben whined piteously into his gag at this most distressing news, but his strength was fading. "I put some sedatives in this batch," Amy said with a smirk. "I need to put things in order for your new life." Zipping shut the eye opening on his leather hood, Amy sealed her husband in darkness with a kiss on his thoroughly gagged mouth. "Night, honey!" As Ben succumbed to sleep, his last thoughts transfixed him with horror. To be in this state with his wife was degrading, but for his daughter to see him bound, gagged, and diapered was the worst fate he could imagine. Ben woke up utterly disoriented, but the events before his forced slumber quickly flooded his limbs with dread. Straitjacketed and gagged, he was at the mercy of his wife and her plans to make him permanently incontinent. She'd already made progress towards this goal, for he'd wetted his triple diapers in his sleep, a moist patch in the seat of his soaker pad attesting to that humiliating act. The dampness made it impossible for him to lie comfortably, but squirming did little good. Lying there, unable to see or move, Ben's attention was inextricably drawn to the mounting pressure in his bladder. He rallied his willpower against the building urge to relieve himself. Wetting in his sleep was one thing, but voluntarily giving into the call of nature in his diapers' grip was a much more humiliating prospect. Yet it was an inevitable one, for there was no other means of relief. When the discomfort in his bladder grew to be too much to bear, Ben helplessly streamed into his diapers. With his cock pinned back between his legs by the diapers' tight squeeze, the urine soaked into the back of his diapers, an unpleasant sensation even with the liberal coating of powder over his bottom.Light stung Ben's eyes. Amy had unzipped the eye opening on the front of his white leather hood, kissing the hood where his plug-gagged mouth lay within. "Wake up, sleepyhead," she teased. "While you were getting your beauty sleep, I've been making the necessary arrangements for your new life. No need to thank me." Ben rolled his eyes, and immediately regretted it. In a flash, Amy had him over her lap, his thickly diapered posterior jutting up into the air, and was mercilessly smacking the bulging back of his rubber panties, the sharp crack of skin against rubber mingling with the puffing sounds of padding compressing. The spankings didn't hurt through the layers of padding, but it was humiliating enough to quell any attitude he'd been fomenting. The redhead sat her husband back up and kissed his encased cheek, stroking his leather-clad head. "Now, will you be a good boy?" she cooed condescendingly, and Ben, cowed, nodded as much as the high, padded collar of his straitjacket would permit."Anyway," Amy continued, "I've filed a letter of resignation with your employers and cancelled all of your appointments. No one will come looking for you." Ben's heart sank as hopes he didn't know he had been clinging to were mercilessly dashed. "Aren't you a lucky boy?" the dominatrix purred. "With not a care in the world, all you need to do is give up control." Tears welled up at the corners of Ben's eyes, but his emotional wallowing was cut short as Amy quickly slipped the thin tube of a drinking bottle into the channel in his plug gag, squeezing the soft plastic vessel until Ben had gulped down the laced fluids. This time, she'd chosen apple juice to sweeten his medicine. Not missing a beat, she unzipped his hood's mouth and extracted the rubber plug to feed him a meal shake with a sickly vanilla flavor. Subjected to these cloying tastes, Ben found it less unpleasant to swallow quickly, though it was yet another form of submission that eroded his ego. The plug was back in, and the white hood zipped up, before he could say a word, and a chaser of drugged apple juice soon followed.Amy slipped her husband into white leather booties, ankle-high and padded on the inside, and stood him up. Ben's legs were spread by the triple diaper bulk between his thighs, forcing him to waddle. She led him over to their bedroom's full-length mirror so he could get a good look at himself, swatting his thickly cushioned bum all the way there, not as a punishment, but simply to remind him that he was helpless in the tight grip of three diapers. When Ben saw himself, a fresh wave of humiliation made him weak in the knees. He had been able to feel how voluminous his diapers were, but seeing their size firsthand was another experience entirely. The diapers made his posterior seem comically enormous, and they certainly weren't thin over his belly and crotch either. His white rubber panty briefs ballooned out with the diaper bulk they had to accommodate. "Just look at how cute you are," Amy cooed. "I can't think of a better look for you."Ben felt a tugging sensation at the back of his diapers. Looking in the mirror, he saw the cause. This new straitjacket's crotch strap had a second strap attached to it in the back as a handle. Indeed, Amy held a strap situated right on his padded backside. It was a means of control that Ben found immeasurably humiliating, but it was one degradation among many. "This will help me keep you in line," Amy said with composed mirth, tugging it once more for good measure before releasing the handle, and simply letting her hand rest upon the seat of his rubber panties.Moving him along with firm swats to his diapered rear, the redhead showed him the changing table she'd installed in their bedroom. It was decked out with plenty of straps to restrain an unwilling changee and drawers beneath the generously padded changing bench to hold all the supplies necessary for a diaper change. A plastic pail rested near the table so dirty diapers could be disposed of. "Now, isn't this nice?" she cooed, giving her husband's diaper butt a playful squeeze. "Of course, we'll have to wait until your diapers are full until we change you. No sense in wasting perfectly good diapers." Ben groaned into his gag, now knowing that he would have to endure the cling of wet diapers for most of the forseeable future, but he had little time to think on it before Amy led him into the bathroom, hustling him along with sharper spanks to his padded behind. Within, he saw that the bathtub had been fitted with a set of straps, and that a butt plug rested in the tub. "That's so you don't make a mess during bathtime," Amy explained. Ben had no intentions of losing control to the point where he'd need such a precaution, but he couldn't deny that his intentions made no difference in his predicament.As if on cue, Ben's bladder started bothering him. He fidgeted, trying to move as little as he could so as to avoid Amy's notice, but the absurd bulk of his triple diapers emphasized every motion in his nether regions. "Don't waste your energy fighting it, sweetie," the dominatrix purred. "Just let go." Ben gave his best effort, clenching up so hard that his cheeks flushed hot beneath his hood, but in the end, he succumbed and wet his diapers yet again. Amy clapped her hands in exaggerated joy and grabbed the crotch-strap handle on his backside, reeling him in for a kiss as her hands squeezed his triply cushioned buttocks. The sounds of his diapers compressing had grown a bit soggier.Now exceedingly uncomfortable in his diapers, Ben was made to waddle out of the bathroom, his wife hurrying him along with firm swats against the seat of his rubber panty briefs. As he ambled down the hall, he realized what was about to happen. His daughter was about to come home from work, and Amy wanted her to become complicit in Ben's forced incontinence. Slowing his pace was a fruitless effort, for all it got him was a swift smack on his padded bottom and an admonishment to hurry up. Ushered into the dining room, Ben was seated in a comfortably padded chair, and Amy strapped his ankles to its legs and his straitjacketed trunk to its back. He found himself unable to do much more than fidget in his sodden diapers, and though he knew it would bring him no comfort, he squirmed anyway, anxiety over what his daughter might think gnawing at his gut. He clung to the hope that she would demand his freedom. Though nothing would restore his dignity, at least in that case he would be able to rebuild his life, starting with a divorce.Before long, Jenny had returned home. Despite having graduated college, she lived with her parents rather than forage in the cutthroat housing market. When she walked inside to the sight of her mother in a long-sleeved black turtleneck leotard and sheer black tights, and her father in who knew what sort of deviant getup, she covered her eyes, turning her head away. "You could have warned me!" she shouted, cheeks flushing beet red. Ben's hopes soared at Jenny's repulsed reaction. She'd get him out of this. He struggled as much as possible, squealing into his gag until he was breathless from exertion, in hopes of conveying his displeasure, but Amy cupped his head in her hands and stared daggers into his eyes until he ceased his protestations. "I wanted to tell you in person," Amy said, turning to face her daughter. "Since I've gotten a lucrative promotion recently, your father will no longer be working. Instead, he will remain in my care so that I can make him completely dependent on diapers."It took a moment for Jenny to process this, her brow furrowing. "So Dad would rather stay at home and use diapers than go to work?" she asked hesitantly. "Yep," Amy said. "He practically begged me to do this to him." Ben growled into his rubber plug gag and thrashed in his immutable restraints, and Amy patted his leather-clad cheek. "Oh, don't be so embarrassed. I agreed, didn't I?" Jenny sighed. "Well, if it's what Dad wants," she said, "I guess I'll go with it." Ben's heart sank as his last hopes were dashed, as Amy's smile brightened. "Fantastic!" she said. "Now, I know it's a big favor to ask of you, but would you help me out with him? I have to be at work, and he can't be alone during the day." Jenny found this idea far less palatable. "So I'd give up my job, just to change my dad's diapers?" she asked. Amy sighed and looked down at Ben. "Honey," she said, "Can't you see how uncomfortable you're making your daughter?" Ben grumbled into his gag, not even bothering to issue muffled protests he knew Amy would explain away. "I understand how difficult this must be for you," Amy said kindly to her daughter, "but you did go to college for nursing. I can pay you a fine wage, much better than what you're making now." Jenny's features softened. "Fine," she said, "but I'll only do it when you're not here." Amy nodded, smiling contentedly, and Ben slumped in his chair. His own daughter would be making him incontinent."Let me show you your responsibilities," Amy said, striding to the fridge. Jenny followed, eyes attentive. "I'll handle his morning and evening needs, so all you'll have to do is feed him and change his diapers." The redhead opened the refrigerator, where a special shelf had been stocked with bottles of juice and meal shakes, and handed her brunette daughter two of the former and one of the latter. "Those are his drinks and his food," she explained, then gestured to a chart on the refrigerator. "That's how we keep track if he's been fed or not."The women returned to Ben at an embarrassing time for him. He was streaming into his diapers, the distinctive sound of diaper wetting clearly heard in the dining room. Jenny sighed. "Do I have to change him now?" she asked wearily. Amy shook her head in response. "See how thick his diapers are?" she asked rhetorically. "He's wearing three diapers and a soaker pad, so he can wet his diapers a fair few times and not need a change." Jenny nodded. "So what do I do with the bottles?" she asked. Amy took one of the juice bottles from her and fitted the tube into the thin channel in Ben's plug gag, squeezing its contents into his readily submitting mouth. "That's how you give him his juice. It's a mix of fruit juice, sugar syrup, and my special blend of diuretics, laxatives, and stool softeners." Amy then unzipped Ben's white leather hood and tugged the rubber plug from the ring gag that held it in his mouth. "Now, put the larger bottle's spout in that ring," she instructed. Ben's brunette daughter did as she was told, the strawberry-flavored sludge quickly filling her father's mouth until he'd swallowed it all. "That one's a mix of vitamins, nutrients, and calories, and of course the drug blend I mentioned earlier." Amy slipped the plug back into his mouth, zipping his hood shut and kissing right over the zipper. "Good boy," she praised him, then turned back to her daughter. "Feed him the second bottle of juice as a chaser." Jenny did so adeptly. She'd always been a quick study.As before, Ben's gut felt heavy and bloated, but there was a different sort of pressure building within him. He recognized it as the urge to defecate, and a chill shot through his entire frame. Wetting his diapers had been bad enough, but to fill them in front of his wife and daughter was a humiliation without compare. He clenched up his bottom, resisting the urge to eliminate with all his might, only vaguely aware of Amy showing Jenny how to mix his food and beverages. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, and he gyrated in his seat, trying his best to hold on. The two women came back over to a panting, writhing Ben, and Amy sighed. "It looks like your father is being difficult," she said in mock weariness. "I guess I'll show you how to punish him."Pulling up a normal kitchen-table chair, Amy unstrapped her husband and laid him over her lap. "If he's a naughty boy, give him a good spanking." It was all Ben could do to control his bowels as his thickly padded bottom was sharply slapped over and over. "You give it a try," Amy said, using the butt strap built into his straitjacket to lift her husband to his feet as she stood. "Oh, and that strap is for getting ahold of him if he's too squirmy." Hesitantly, the young brunette sat down and laid her father over her lap. Ben wished he could dissolve into the void rather than endure this humiliation one more instant. Jenny patted his cushioned buttocks a few times, and Amy sighed. "Harder," she said. "He's wearing three diapers under those rubber panties, so there's plenty of padding for his naughty bottom." After a moment's pause, Jenny brought her hand down on her father's triply diapered rump, the slapping sound echoing. She spanked harder than Amy did, and Ben had to close his eyes and bite down on his gag to keep from filling his diapers right then and there. "Good job!" Amy said. "Like I said, there'll be a strap on his bum for you to grab if you need to reel him in, and you just swat his diaper butt if you need him to waddle along."Having absorbed this information, Jenny asked, "So... what about the other kind of diaper change?" As if on cue, Ben's strength depleted and his bowels loosened, a warm, soft stool escaping from his anus and packing the seat of his diapers. Since he was still over his daughter's lap, his diapers and rubber pants swelled freely, ballooning to double their previous size. "It seems your father is letting me show you right away," Amy said, grabbing the butt strap to lift him from Jenny's lap. "Follow me to the bedroom."Ben felt as though he'd die of embarrassment. He'd just filled his diapers on his daughter's lap, with his wife watching in delight. And messing was much more unpleasant than wetting. With each waddling step he took down the hall, the soft stool squished against his nether regions in a new and revolting way, and Amy's perpetually patting hand spread it against his behind. Upon arriving at the changing table, Ben offered no resistance as Amy sat him down on it, though he did whimper as the pressure of the table squashed his loaded diapers against him. His wife pushed him down into a lying position and strapped his trunk in place. "Alright," Amy said. "First, we put on gloves." She'd left a box of latex gloves out on the changing table, and she and her daughter availed themselves. "Then, we get his rubber panties off." She motioned for Jenny to remove them, and she obliged, peeling them away from her father's swelled diapers. The redhead lifted his legs and locked them in cuffs that hung from cords on the ceiling, so that Ben's messy, padded bottom hovered a few inches above the changing table. "Now undo the tapes on his diapers and put them in the pail." The young brunette braced herself and, one by one, untaped the diapers, depositing all three in the diaper pail. She was rather cross at this point, but was loath to quit. Amy opened a drawer on the changing table and produced a plastic container of baby wipes. "Now wipe him down, and be thorough," she commanded. Now Jenny wasn't so sure. "I don't want to touch my dad... there," she said. Amy sighed. "You see what you're putting your daughter through?" she chastised her husband. Ben whined meekly, willing to agree to anything if it meant this ordeal would end faster.Jenny groaned. "I'll do it," she said in annoyance, "but you'd better pay me well for this." She began to wipe down Ben's tummy, crotch, and bottom, biting her lip when his manhood twitched under her ministrations. Ben bit down on his plug gag and tried desperately not to become aroused as his cock was caressed by the wipes, but weary from his failed attempts to inhibit his diaper use, he had no willpower left to stop his manhood from rising to attention. Amy didn't miss a beat. "Men can't help themselves," she said. "Touch them right, and inhibitions go out the window. Just pinch it near the base." Jenny took out her frustration on her father's shaft, digging her fingernails into the sensitive flesh until he grew soft again. Meanwhile, Amy had retrieved the baby powder, and passed it to her daughter. "Now give him a good coating of that." Resigned to what would happen, Jenny shook a mound of talc into her hand and spread it into Ben's rump and belly, then massaged it into his front. Waiting until the end, she suppressed his erection with another malicious pinch."Now for the diapers," Amy stated, retrieving them from a compartment beneath the changing mat. "This label is for the inner diapers, and this is for the outermost diaper." She set out a soaker pad as well. "And this goes in the innermost one." Wordlessly, Jenny opened one of the porous-shell diapers and laid in the soaker pad. "Tuck his boy parts down between his legs," Amy instructed, "and make sure all three diapers are nice and tight." Needing no encouragement, Jenny tucked her father's member securely between his thighs and pinned it in place with the first diaper, sealing it on as snugly as Amy had. She swaddled his padded privates in a second and third diaper, ensuring that each was applied as tightly as could be. "Now for the rubber panties?" the brunette asked. "Right you are," her mother replied, taking out a pair and handing them over. "It can take some doing to get them over all those diapers." Jenny rolled up the white rubber panty briefs and slid them up Ben's spread legs, unrolling them to envelop his high-waisted diapers. "All done!" Amy exclaimed, freeing her husband's legs from the cuffs and undoing the chest straps, before guiding him off the table to his feet. "Fantastic job, sweetie!" Far less enthused about the process, Jenny stared daggers at her father. Ben gulped, turning his gaze down submissively. He knew that Jenny would make his new diaper life into her revenge. Jenny quickly excused herself from her parents’ bedroom once she'd disposed of her latex gloves in the diaper pail. “I have to run some errands,” she explained. “Of course, dear,” Amy responded. “Would you mind taking out the diaper pail, though?” With a sigh, the young brunette picked up the pail full of her father's soiled diapers and strode out of the room. Mortified, Ben was barely aware of his wife's hand pushing at the thickly cushioned seat of his rubber panties, but he waddled along with her guiding hand anyway. It was no surprise to him that she idly slapped his triply diapered rear all the way to the dining room, nor that she strapped him into his chair, his dry diapers crinkling as his powdered bottom shifted in them. Ben was forced to endure another feeding, another set of four bottles of juice and two sludgy meal shakes. This time, both tasted orangey in addition to their typical cloying flavor. He was getting used to his belly feeling distended and heavy, a realization that he found distressing as a mark of just how low he'd been brought already. His bladder was under constant strain now, and he could feel his grip slipping. As Any was unstrapping her husband from his chair, she heard him streaming into his triple diapers and clapped her hands. “Good boy,” she chirped, standing him up and kissing his cheek. Ben didn't bother voicing his discomfort into the thick rubber plug that hushed him, for he knew by now that resistance would be met with a firm spanking. He simply let himself be led back to the bedroom, the tiniest of whines muffled by his gag each time Amy patted his triply padded posterior, squishing his damp diapers against his powdered private parts. Being returned to the changing table and secured in the chest straps and ankle cuffs was unexpected for Ben. He'd heard his wife explaining that he'd be changed only when his diapers held stool, so he didn't know why she was slipping on latex gloves. The answer came when the red-haired dominatrix squirted a liberal pat of lubricating jelly into her palms and slathered some on a long, fat rubber butt plug.”This will keep you from making a mess while I play with you,” Amy teased, worming the hand of hers that clutched the butt plug beneath his rubber panties and diapers and slowly pushing it into his anus. Ben winced and groaned in discomfort with each thrust and twist, but Amy heeded none of it, pushing until it was hilted in her husband's bottom. Then, reaching between his legs, she took ahold of his member and untucked it, his tip rubbing against the soft soaker pad lining his innermost diaper. Stiffening at once, Ben lacked the willpower to resist his wife's ministrations. She massaged his shaft, stroking up the length of his manhood with deft fingers and rubbing his tip with a latex-gloved thumb. Ben was helplessly erect and throbbing in the redhead's grip, waves of pleasure overwhelming the humiliation of being masturbated in a soggy triple diaper. But as climax was about to take him, Ben felt a sharp pinch at the base of his cock, snapping him from his reverie at once. “We can't let you have too much fun, now can we?” she cooed. Her lubricated gloves were immediately back to work on Ben's length, stroking and tugging him back to the edge of orgasm half a dozen more times, though she would suppress his release each time. By the end of the ordeal, Ben was panting into his rubber plug gag, sweat coating the inside of his white straitjacket and hood. Amy tucked his now-flaccid manhood back between his thighs, extracting first the plug and then her latex-clad hands. Then she discarded the gloves and cupped her husband's leather-sealed head in her hands. “No, you won't get relief just yet.” She patted Ben's overstuffed tummy before walking to the closet, leaving him to lie there immobile. “I think we should let our next-door neighbor know about your brand new lifestyle,” the red-haired dominatrix declared, slipping into a smart black pantsuit over her leotard and tights. Ben shook his head and squirmed vigorously. Their neighbor was a blonde in her late twenties who worked from home. She was quite pretty, and the notion of being paraded in bondage and diapers in front of her was mortifying. “Mmmppphh!” Ben protested, not caring what consequences his struggles would incur. “Mmmggghh!” Returning to him, Amy unlocked the restraints that held her husband to the changing mat and hauled him to his feet. “Aren't you eager?” she said. “You can't wait to show off your diapered self, can you?” Not waiting for a gagged reply, the redhead swatted the back of Ben’s rubber panties to hurry him along, the puffing sound that his diapers made as they compressed against his powdered posterior somewhat dampened by how soggy they were. He waddled down the hall, face reddening with every step and slap to his padded behind, but when Amy held the front door to their house open, he stopped dead in his tracks, refusing to submit any further. Being seen outside like this was too much for him to stomach, especially since a familiar pressure was building in his bladder. “Hmmpphhh,” he grumbled. Amy sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re not going to be a difficult boy, are you?” she asked. Ben remained still, trying and failing to look determined in his stifling bondage and triple diapers. “Hnngghhh!” he complained, and immediately regretted expressing even the slightest defiance. Amy grabbed the strap connected to his straitjacket’s crotch strap over his densely cushioned butt, dragging him down as she sat and laying him over his lap. “I thought I showed you what happens to naughty boys,” she said, and began laying into her husband’s padded backside. Ben bit down on his gag, as the spanks were much more forceful than before, and whimpered piteously. Focused on the pain, he was only half aware that his bladder had lost control from the shock of Amy’s blows, but partial awareness that he was helplessly wetting his triple diapers was humiliating enough. Ben swore to himself that he would submit willingly to the ordeal his wife had planned for him if it meant no further spankings. When the red-haired dominatrix was satisfied with her work, she used the butt strap to bring a much wetter Ben to his feet. Even more uncomfortable in his diapers now, Ben couldn’t focus, and let himself be led by Amy’s firm hand on his bottom, into the balmy summer evening. The heavy cotton of his straitjacket and white leather of his hood and booties rendered him claustrophobically warm, but the golden sun felt soothing on his bare, shaven legs as he waddled towards the house next door. Amy knocked, and Sarah answered promptly, her long, wavy blonde locks in a haphazard ponytail and her glasses askew. Mouth agape at the sight of Ben bound, gagged, and bundled into an enormous diaper bulk, she tried and failed to ask what was going on, but Amy quickly explained anyway. “Oh, hello, Sarah,” she chirped. “I came by to tell you that I got a promotion recently. My new income more than provides for my family, and when Ben here found out…” The redhead gave her husband’s sodden diaper butt a firm squeeze. “He quit his job and begged me to put him in diapers.” Ben had accepted that this lie would be told to all who saw him, and he nodded meekly. Sarah’s reaction was mortifying. Grinning, she caressed Ben’s rubber panty briefs, her eyes aglow. “I’m glad you humored your boy,” the bespectacled blonde said. “He looks adorable in diapers and bondage.” Amy nodded in agreement. “Doesn’t he just?” she cooed. “Anyway, I’d like to ask a favor of you.” Sarah nodded back. “Shoot,” she said. “Would you be willing to look after Ben on the weekends?” the redhead asked. “I would love to,” Sarah replied, reaching back to give his triply diapered bottom a firm squeeze. “Honestly, I wish my boyfriend would ask me to treat him like this.” Amy clapped her hands. “Excellent!” she exclaimed. “If you want, you can come over right now, and I can teach you how to take care of his needs.” She spun her husband around, presenting Sarah with his generously padded posterior and bending him down. To stay balanced, Ben had to jut his comically bulky bum out, an act that brought even more color to his cheeks. “First lesson- see how the crotch strap of his straitjacket has a handle strap over the back of his rubber panties?” Amy said. “If he’s trying to waddle away, just grab that and reel him in. Give it a try.” Eagerly, Sarah seized the butt strap and pulled Ben towards herself. “Neat,” she said. Amy smiled, delighted that her neighbor was so willing to help her husband become incontinent. “Second lesson- if you want him to go somewhere, make sure to give his cute diaper booty plenty of swats. Try leading him back home.” Administering firm pats to his cushioned rump, Sarah led Ben back to his house. The casual attitude the blonde brought to his debasing predicament made Ben sink even deeper into submission, and he didn’t so much as attempt resistance. Once the two women were back inside with their diapered captive, Amy pointed Sarah to the kitchen, where she showed her Ben’s juice and shakes. Four bottles of the former, and two of the latter, packed his tummy uncomfortably full during the demonstration. Despite Ben’s good behavior, his redheaded wife made him lie over Sarah’s lap so she could practice spanking him. The bespectacled woman didn’t strike him as hard as Jenny or Amy did, but the joy she took in playing with his thickly diapered butt was just as difficult to endure as the pain of a stronger spanking. “The only thing left to show you,” Amy stated, “is how to change his diapers. With all that diaper bulk under his rubber panties, he doesn’t need changing if he’s just wet, but you’ll want to get him out of messy diapers… eventually.” Grinning, Amy squeezed Ben’s padded buttocks. “There’s no need to change his diapers the moment he fills them.” A chill danced through Ben’s spine at the prospect of being left to stew in his own waste. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow morning?” she requested. “He’ll have a fully loaded diaper for you to practice changing on.” Ben wanted to melt into nothingness as Amy asserted dominance over his most private bodily function. “Sure,” Sarah agreed. “I’ll see you then.” The blonde showed herself out, leaving Ben alone with his wife once more. Amy led her husband back into the bedroom. “Jenny will be back from her errands soon,” she stated, “and the two of us will be eating dinner.” She hoisted Ben onto the changing table and pushed him into a lying position, firmly strapping his straitjacketed torso in place and locking his ankles in the cuffs that hung from the ceiling. “You’ll be staying put right here, so you don’t get into any trouble.” The dominatrix slipped her hands into a pair of latex gloves yet again, retrieving a massive rubber butt plug and a bottle of lubricating jelly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re occupied.” Squeezing a fat dollop into her palms, Amy coated the plug in gel and slowly screwed it into Ben’s anus. His eyes widened and he suckled his rubber plug gag as the butt plug filled his rectum, and he screwed his eyes shut as his wife took hold of his powdered penis and pumped it, layering lubricant jelly all over his shaft. She then retracted her hands, disposed of the latex gloves and donned a new pair, and stripped Ben of his full-cut rubber panties. Amy undid the tapes on her husband’s diapers, plopping all three into the pail by the changing table, and took out the canister of talcum powder. With Ben’s legs suspended in midair by the shackles, she had easy access to his belly, crotch, and bottom, and all were given a thorough rub with the baby powder. Ben’s member pulsed under his wife’s skilled ministrations. Despite his revulsion, she could arouse him with domineering ease. Amy then brought out from one of the table’s drawers a thick sleeve made of flexible rubber. Giving his manhood a few more pumps to keep it at stiff attention, the redhead slipped Ben’s length into the rubber sleeve, his pink head peeking out of one end. She connected a rubber bulb to the sleeve and pumped, inflating it until Ben’s well-lubricated cock was snugly squeezed in the soft rubber, but while its tight grip ensured his arousal, the lubricant and talc eliminated the friction he would need to achieve climax. “This will keep you nice and happy while you wait,” she declared, tapping his tip with a single finger. “Don't worry, you'll still be able to wet yourself. When the need gets to be too much, your erection will subside just enough to let you stream into your diapers.” Ben moaned lowly into his gag, helplessly erect in the tight grip of this new toy and dreading the prospect of peeing his diapers while wearing it. The dominatrix unpacked three new diapers, laying a soaker pad in one of the porous-shell diapers as usual. Atypically, she pressed her husband’s rubber-swaddled member against his tummy instead of tucking it between his legs, before sealing it beneath a tightly taped diaper. Ben was quickly packaged in the other two diapers and a fresh pair of full-cut white rubber panties, his pulsing erection thoroughly sealed away. Amy briefly freed his legs before strapping them down on the changing mat. She then took hold of a metal pole on the side of the changing bench and raised it vertically, hanging from a hook on the end a massive bag of drugged lemonade. “We've got to keep you hydrated, now don't we?” Amy teased. Fitting the bag with one end of a long, thin tube, she secured the other in Ben's plug gag and released a valve on the bag. A slow dribble of the cocktail trickled into his mouth as the redhead zipped the eye hole of his leather hood shut, blinding him. “I don't want you getting distracted,” the redhead cooed condescendingly. “Now Jenny and I are going to eat dinner, so you stay right here.” With a domineering kiss on his cheek, Amy left her husband to endure seemingly endless frustration. He'd just have to get used to it, for this would be a nightly routine. Ben lay on the changing table for what felt like an hour, but since the eye hole on his hood had been zipped shut, he had no way of knowing how much time had elapsed. It passed in a familiar pattern, with pressure building in his bladder but his penis, helplessly erect in the snug rubber sheath Amy had applied, being unable to discharge it. When the pain from his bladder was overwhelming, Ben found his member soften just enough to stream into the front of his triple diaper bulk, before succumbing to the rubber sleeve's arousing tightness around his shaft. Since he was receiving a steady drip of juice from the feeding bag his wife had fitted him with, Ben had to endure this ordeal over and over again, his soaker pad growing soggier and clingier against his powdered tummy. And all the while his backside ached from the sheer size of the butt plug Amy had hilted in him. Eventually, the drip of juice ran dry, and Ben felt the tube being extracted from his rubber plug gag. His legs were unstrapped from the table, and his rubber panty briefs pulled away, but his ankles were quickly locked into cuffs dangling on cords from the ceiling, raising his triply diapered bottom from the changing bench. Unable to see who was changing him with his white leather hood’s eye hole zipped securely shut, Ben suspected it was Amy, since Jenny had expressed such disgust at matters involving his manhood. Either way, the tapes on each of his diapers were undone, and the rubber sleeve was deflated and slipped from his erection. The butt plug was slowly worked out of his anus, prodding him unpleasantly every step of the way. The now-familiar caress of cool wet wipes stroked along Ben’s damp tummy and crotch, cleansing every inch of his intimate regions. He felt wipes between his thighs and against his buttocks, then down his butt crack, and found himself helplessly at attention from the slow strokes that applied baby powder to his genitals. His belly, low back, and behind all received the same thorough coating of talc. Then his hood was unzipped, and Ben was shocked to find Jenny staring down at him, an expression somewhere between malice and mirth plastered on the brunette’s face. “Amy and I talked things over,” she said, “and we’ve decided to put you in chastity.” Ben gulped, eyes widening in horror that Jenny savored. “Since you can’t stop yourself from getting aroused by your own daughter,” she hissed, “your dick will be under strict control.” Ben’s daughter began to apply what turned out to be a very complicated chastity device. First, she changed into latex gloves and massaged a mint-scented lotion into her father’s manhood. Despite the stimulation, Ben found he didn’t become erect. “That lotion suppresses your filthy response,” Jenny stated, slipping a thin latex sleeve over his flaccid genitalia. It encased his scrotum and shaft in slick white latex, but left his tip exposed. “It doesn’t last very long, but we have other ways of keeping you soft.” Despite its tightness, the sheath went on easily due to the talc and cream coating Ben’s privates. Next came a much more uncomfortable device. Jenny slipped a metal coil over his latex-clad shaft. The metal spiral was curved downwards to tuck his rod against his scrotum, and fused to it was a ring that locked around where his genitals emerged from his crotch, and two more that held his balls off to the sides, creating a groove where his shaft was made to lay. The end of the chastity cage was a small metal dome that encased Ben’s cockhead, leaving only the center of his tip exposed. Ben’s manhood was all balled up, and Jenny smirked in approval, but she had one last layer of chastening to apply to her father. She sealed his caged cock beneath a thick, rigid rubber dome that clipped to the metal rings of his chastity cage. The dome had a small aperture over the center of his tip, which would permit him to wet his diapers, but it concealed everything else. “Perfect,” Jenny said. “Now I can change your diapers without your disgusting cock getting in the way.” The chastity was uncomfortably tight, pinching and compressing Ben’s private parts into a helpless package. It was unbelievably emasculating to wear, sapping the urge to fight his predicament. Ben lay there meekly, suckling the fat rubber plug gag that hushed him as Jenny bundled him into a soaker pad and three thickweight diapers. These particular diapers had a higher-cut leg that bared more of his hips than usual, as did the white rubber panties that encased them. “Aren’t you so well-behaved now?” the brunette cooed. “Honestly, a world where all you boys are locked up in chastity is my kind of utopia.” Those words stoked a transient fury in Ben, but his layers of chastity had cowed him so completely, all that came of his displeasure was a meek little whine into his gag. Jenny undid the straps and cuffs that secured her father on the changing table and hoisted him to his feet. Ben’s dry diapers made a crinkly puffing sound at each slap to his padded, rubber-pantied posterior, and though he was waddling along as fast as he could manage, his daughter sharply spanked him all the way to the kitchen. Amy was waiting, having changed into a black bikini. “I locked up his boy parts,” Jenny declared, sitting her father down in his chair and strapping him in. “Excellent!” Amy said, clapping her hands in exaggerated delight. She strode over to the refrigerator, returning with the usual set of bottles, and the women took turns bottle-feeding their diapered captive. Ben had come to accept an overstuffed tummy and full bladder as fixtures of his life, which was at once relieving and worrisome. Jenny excused herself yet again to call her boyfriend, a shy young man who worked at a bookstore, and Amy led her husband right back to the bedroom. On the way there, Ben felt the urge to pee. Earlier, he might have fought it, but the chastity was a constant reminder that resistance was pointless. So he streamed into his diapers, the front of his soaker pad growing soggy as wetness escaped the small opening in his chastity. Ben felt his wife squeeze his thickly cushioned rear in appreciation, and he was horrified to take pleasure in the praise. Soon enough, he was on his back on the changing mat yet again, his legs cuffed, but unexpectedly, his chest was left unrestrained. As a matter of fact, he felt Amy undoing the straps of his straitjacket and unzipping the heavy cotton-duck garment, baring his slightly sweaty chest. His white leather hood also came off, baring his clean-shaven face, and his booties were slipped away as well. Ben’s arms were weak from disuse, refusing to heed his commands, and soon enough, his input didn’t matter. Amy brought two more cuffs down from the ceiling and locked her husband’s wrists in them, suspending him a foot above the changing table spread-eagled. “Hold still,” the red-haired dominatrix commanded, producing a bottle of shaving cream and a razor. She squirted liberal dollops of gel onto Ben’s upper chest, sides, and back, and worked it into a lather all over the exposed skin before clearing it away, along with her husband’s body hair. Then Amy massaged a soothing lotion into his newly hairless trunk and moved onto his arms. Cleansed of body hair, Ben was freed from the cuffs, but Amy fixed his eyes with a piercing glare, giving him a taste of what wrath would await him if he tried anything. Not needing much convincing, her husband stayed put. Amy slipped a new hood over Ben’s head. It was pastel pink and made of swimsuit fabric, and didn’t have any zippers on it, but like the leather hood, it exposed only an oval of face around his eyes. Next, she dressed him in a one-piece swimsuit in the same pastel pink, which stretched taut over his massive diaper bulk, its leg holes lining up perfectly with the higher-cut leg of his latest diapers and rubber panties. Unusually for a bathing suit, it had long sleeves sewn shut at the ends, but their purpose was evident due to the loops on the front of the swimsuit and the buckles on the ends of the sleeves. Ben’s arms were guided through the loops, folding them over his chest, and the sleeves were wrapped around his back to pull them taut and buckled in front. What he wore was equal parts one-piece bathing suit and straitjacket. Lastly, Amy fitted her husband with ankle-length waterproof booties that matched the pastel pink of his outfit, and with his getup complete, she guided him to the floor. Ben was led onto the back patio by the familiar pressure of a hand on his triply diapered rear, waddling into the balmy summer evening. The sun glowed golden orange as it slowly sank towards the horizon. The patio had a pool and a hot tub, and it was towards the latter that Amy directed her husband. She sat him down in the soothingly warm water and descended herself, draping an arm over Ben’s shoulder. “I hope you’re getting used to your new life,” she whispered, smiling warmly at him. “You’ll be the first of many boys to know such joy.” Ben’s eyes widened, and he gulped behind his gag, beginning to realize the magnitude of what his wife had in mind. “I’m starting small, taking away your continence and convincing a few close acquaintances to do the same to their husbands and boyfriends, their sons and brothers. Word will spread, and a trend will form.” Her other hand reached up to caress Ben’s pink-hooded cheek. “Eventually, the practice will be so widespread that boys simply won’t be potty trained.” The notion that Amy could bring about such a massive social shift would have struck Ben as ridiculous not even a day ago, but he’d seen what she was capable of. Amy would succeed in eliminating male continence, and he was completely helpless to stop her. Ben woke up in the swaddle that he was to sleep in, his triple diapers and soaker pad completely saturated with his urine. He'd wetted uncontrollably numerous times in his sleep, which was an unpleasant piece of information, but nowhere near the most distressing sensation he was subject to. He couldn't move within the dense padding of his sleep cocoon, not that the restraints he wore would have permitted movement anyway. Amy had dressed him in what was meant to be a comfortable nighttime set of restraints, a leather hood with thick padding on the inside that fully enveloped his head and neck with only two nostril holes as gaps in its coverage, and a stiff leather shirt with no sleeves or openings at the shoulders, inside which his arms were folded over his chest, underneath a thick layer of padding. And worst of all, he felt a terrible weight in his gut, a steadily building pressure to move his bowels. Ben squirmed and clenched, sweat wicking from his skin into the cocoon of padding that immobilized him, but he was fighting an unwinnable battle. Eventually, his strength failed him, his abdomen relaxed, and his bowels erupted, a thick sludge bursting from his anus and packing the seat of his sodden diapers. It was both relieving and horrifying to him that letting go felt so relaxing, but at least his belly was no longer painfully stuffed. And even the slushy load in the back of his triple diapers wasn't the worst thing to feel against his liberally powdered bottom. It was warm and soft, at the very least. It was some time before Ben felt his cocoon being unzipped. He willingly waddled, the back and seat of his diapers swelled with the weight of his mess, led by a hand on his soiled diaper butt all the way to the changing table. Submitting to his lifestyle, he let his rubber panties be removed and his ankles be shackled and lifted skyward, didn’t struggle as his chest was strapped down to the padded changing bench. Cool air tickled his nether regions when he was liberated from his loaded diapers, and miraculously, from his chastity. It couldn’t have been Jenny that was changing him, then. The wet wipes swabbed his crotch and bottom clean, but instead of being bundled into another set of triple diapers, Ben was given a heavily lubricated butt plug, which made his eyes water with its girth. Free from diapers for the first time in hours, Ben worried that he might pee on the table with how quickly his urinary continence had degraded, but his captors had thought of that, and a condom was slipped over his wiped-down penis to contain any leaks. Unstrapped from the changing table and marched into the bathroom, Ben found himself being stripped down, his eyes screwing shut at the sudden exposure to light. Feeling weak and disoriented, he couldn’t muster the ability to run, and though every fiber of his mind was alight with the urge to flee, all he could do was let himself be led into the bathtub. Besides, the bathroom door was locked anyway. “Bathtime, sweetie,” Amy cooed, clad in jeans and a crisp blouse with short sleeves. His wrists and ankles were locked in plastic cuffs with stuffed rubber pads on the inside, which held him down inside the tub. Ben didn’t dare speak as Amy came into focus, staying still and quiet so as not to draw her ire. He was sure that it would only bring him unpleasant punishment. She left the plug in his rectum, but peeled the condom from his penis, and then the red-haired dominatrix began to bathe him, not missing a single spot with her cloth or body wash. Ben’s wife took her time kneading and stroking his buttocks and manhood, bringing him helplessly erect within a warm washcloth time and time again as she cleansed him. Amy finished the bath by washing her husband’s hair, and then shaving his face and body, the soothing water and soapy lather making it easy to strip his skin of what little hair had grown back since yesterday. “I think you look so much cuter smooth,” the dominatrix declared. She rinsed him off, drained the tub, and then unshackled him so she could dry him off with a towel. “Aren’t you a good boy?” Amy praised him for his obedient stillness. Ben felt his wife massage a lotion into his skin to diminish the most unpleasant aspects of a full-body shave, and then slip a jaw-stretching rubber plug into his mouth, a padded leather panel pressed to his lips as she did up the numerous straps around his head. He was led into the bedroom with her hands cupping and squeezing his behind and member, keeping him at attention. She guided him to lie on his back on the changing bench, where his ankles were cuffed and raised as usual, and his trunk and arms were pinned down beneath wide leather belts. “Your turn, Sarah,” Amy said, and Ben gulped. Sarah had made good on her promise to come on Saturday; it was probably her who had changed him before his bath. Wearing a strapless black PVC leotard over fishnets, and standing in shiny black pumps, she was the image of sexy maturity, in sharp contrast to the infantilized man she was changing. After removing the butt plug, she lavished a thick shower of powder on his crotch and plastered it all over his bottom, massaging it in with slow strokes that ensured his tool remained helplessly at attention. “Awww, you like this so much, don’t you?” Gagged as he was, Ben was in no position to disagree. Then she slipped him into a tight latex sleeve that enveloped all of his genitalia but the head of his penis in form-fitting white, following it up with a rubber sleeve that gripped his shaft from the base to just below his tip. The bespectacled blonde inflated it to keep her captive erect. “And I just know you love this, honey.” Sarah unwrapped a new sort of diaper, laying in a soaker pad before wrapping it around Ben’s thoroughly powdered rump and front. He felt his rubber-sleeved erection being guided into a very tight cocoon of padding before the diaper was taped shut, a swaddle that only grew tighter when the second and third layers were snugly applied and encased in rubber panty briefs. Unstrapped from his changing table, Ben was led to the full-length mirror to behold his new diapers. “I hope you like your new look,” Sarah teased. “I know I do.” The diapers in question were lobed in back, resembling buttocks, and his full-cut rubber panties were molded to fit, so his triple diaper bulk resembled a naked bottom rendered in pure white. But the most embarrassing feature of these new diapers and rubber panties was the rod in front. A huge, pill-shaped protrusion jutted from the crotch of his diapers, his cocooned cock trapped in the protuberant tube of diaper padding. It was as though his diapers themselves had an erection. Ben was on the verge of tears at the sight of his new diapers, humiliated beyond words, beyond belief. But there was nothing he could do. Amy, for her part, was delighted. “He looks so adorable,” she cooed. “I knew these were a good investment.” She gave his thoroughly padded penis a playful squeeze he couldn’t feel through all that diaper bulk, before leading him by a hand on his diapers’ molded behind back to the changing table. Ben felt his wrists being raised above his head and locked in the cuffs that so often held his ankles aloft during a diaper change, Amy taking one wrist while Sarah bound the other. Their free hands roamed his body, his wife taking a special interest in his diaper penis while his neighbor squeezed and fondled his padded bottom at every opportunity. “You have such a lovely body,” Amy purred. “Do allow me to share it with our generous neighbor. After all, she’s agreeing to enable this new life you wanted.” He whimpered into his plug gag, sucking the rubber like a pacifier, and waiting for the humiliating fondling of his hairless form to cease. But when it did, he wheezed into his gag in pain, for a white corset was slipped around his waist. Bent over the table with Amy’s knee in his back, Ben felt the corset boning tighten around his waist until he could barely breathe, his midriff painfully compressed in the strict garment. With how tight it was, he developed a corset bulge in his diapers, but this was the least of his concerns when he found it challenging to do anything more than pant. “He looks even cuter like this,” Sarah said approvingly, patting his triply diapered rump as she and his redheaded wife each lifted one of his legs and laced him into white latex ballet boots that reached halfway up his thighs, pulling every last inch of slack from the tough cords to trap his shaven legs in the thigh-high bondage boots. “And these boots flatter his legs.” Ben knew he wouldn’t be walking anywhere as soon as his ballet-booted feet reached the ground again, for he could barely balance in them, much less step sure-footedly. Amy grinned and slipped her husband into his now usual white bondage hood, planting a kiss on his latex-encased cheek. “I think it’s a fine look for a boy indeed,” she declared, uncuffing his wrists. Right on cue, Sarah supplied a new straitjacket of white latex, and the blonde and redhead worked in tandem to strap their boy into it and tighten every belt. The crotch strap of this jacket parted around the pill-shaped protrusion of rubber-pantied diapers that housed Ben’s rubber-sleeved shaft, allowing it to stay presented quite erect in front. “And it’s all finished. Sarah, you’re responsible for Ben for the rest of the day, while my daughter and I go enjoy ourselves.” Ben squealed at the spank to his rubber-sealed diaper butt as Sarah expressed her approval. “That’s more than fine with me,” she said, weighing the cock sleeve at the front of Ben’s diapers and rubber panty briefs in her palm. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she cooed. “I’ll take good care of you."