Baby Pants Prisioner

[LilKistopher]

Author Unknown: Errors are not my responsiblity....

I Am A Baby Pants Prisoner Chapter 1

Moira has asked me (or should I say made) to write this diary. I don't really want to. It is the story of how I've come to be wearing diapers 24 hours a day, seven days a week and it isn't easy for me to tell.

Moira is my parole officer/companion/jailer. She's the one that

got me into this mess and makes sure I live up to my end of the

sentencing program. We get along most of the time. However, when

she decides to enforce the rules more strictly or wants to punish

me for some little offense she can make my life hell.

It all started four months ago when I got busted for hooking. I

was no street girl, you understand. I was executive class all the

way and had more than a few $1,000 nights in the best hotels. If you could see me you'd know why.

I'm blonde, 105 pounds, with good breasts and legs. Clothes look good on me and when I add a pair of my favorite spike pumps, I

can usually get a man to do anything I desire.

My best feature is my face. I look even younger than my 24 years

and I guess that's partly why I was offered the Alternative Sentencing Program.

Sitting in the prisoner's room on the day of my sentencing, I had no idea what ASP was all about. If I had, I would never have let Moira talk me into it. I was scared of going to prison, even if it was just for two years. I've seen what girls look like after

being in the joint and I didn't want that to happen to me.

I guess I was pretty vulnerable and showed it. Moira came up to me, all pretty and efficient in her tailored suit, patent pumps

and silk blouse and turned on the charm.

"You're going to get two years, you know," she said sympathetically.

"So?" I was suspicious.

I had seen enough of jails not to trust anybody.

"If I could get you 1 to 3 years of special parole would you be interested?"

"Sure, what's the catch?"

More suspicion. Nobody gives anything away for free.

"I can't tell you the details. It's an experimental pro-gram. You'll have to trust me."

I didn't like the thought of trusting a stranger but Moira would say nothing more about the program. I only had a few minutes to think about it before the bailiff came for me. I told Moira I would go along with her plan and as I entered the court room she went up to talk to the judge.

I don't know if that old fart of a judge was in on the deal or not. He sure gave me a funny look, as if he was pitying me my fate. He sentenced me to 1-3 years of parole in the ASP and that

was the end of it.

The first time I knew something was funny was when Moira insisted

on strapping my hands behind my back with a pair of leather cuffs joined by a short length of chain. I was caught off guard.

"What are these for if I'm on parole?" I asked her sullenly.

"You're still a prisoner of the court until you begin the program. After your indoctrination you won't be going very far very fast and we'll be able to forget about these."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked in alarm.

Moira had nothing more to say. She led me from the court to her private car and helped me get in. Sitting in a car while handcuffed isn't comfortable and I told Moira as much but she didn't even answer.

As we drove toward the suburbs, I tried to get Moira to talk

about the program. She flashed me some wicked smiles but wouldn't volunteer anything except that I was the first person to take advantage of the program and that I had better be a model student or it would look bad for her. She got her message across. I may have avoided prison but I hadn't avoided the hassle of being

someone's petty servant.

When we turned into the entrance of the State Mental Hospital, I got scared fast.

"What are we doing here? I'm not crazy!"

Moira just smiled one of those wicked smiles of which I was already sick telling me to keep quiet and do as I was told.

They were waiting for us. Moira must have called them before we left the courthouse. There were two burly nurses who looked as if they enjoyed pushing people around to greet us. With my hands behind my back, wearing a mini skirt and spike pumps, I was in no

condition to give them a hard time.

They took me to an examining room. My heart stopped cold when I saw the obstetrical examining table fitted out with restraining straps. I never did get used to those damn things and the straps told me that I wasn't going to like what they were going to do to me once they got me all strapped down with my legs held wide apart.

Despite their advantage in numbers and size, they didn't release my hands before undressing me. My skirt, pantyhose and panties went first. It felt weird to be bare from the waist down. Without a word, they hoisted me onto the table and strapped my legs down tight. By now I was trembling from fear. They loosened the cuffs and had my blouse and bra off before I could even think about resisting. Then they made me lie back so they could fasten my wrists in cuffs attached to the table and pull a wide leather

band tight across my middle. I couldn't move an inch.

I demanded to know what the hell was going on but everybody ignored me. Moira had disappeared and the two ape-women

pre-tended they didn't understand English.

After a few minutes of my angry monologue, one of them turned to me and said, "Shut up if you know what's good for you. We can make you life hell from here on in if we feel like it."

I decided to keep quiet. That lasted until I saw what was on the

tray of instruments she was wheeling toward me. A straight razor,

a bowl of water, a can of shaving foam and some towels. I moaned loudly in despair and let my body go limp. There were worse things than having your crotch shaved but not too many, or so I thought then. Why did they want my crotch free of hair?

I once had a client who paid me quite well to keep my twat shaved but it's a different story when someone else is doing it to you against your will. I did my best to keep still but the sound of my own gasps seemed to echo in the room. When it was over, I had this tremendous urge to run my hands over my new nakedness down there but I guessed it was pointless to ask for my hands free.

They left me alone after that. It must have been an hour or more. There were no clocks in the room but I could see the sun travel acros the window. When the next crew arrived, I knew I was in for something I wouldn't like.

They were all decked out in surgical garb and they brought a lot of stuff on carts with them. Even though they all wore masks, I was sure that one of them was Moira. Nobody said any-thing to me or to each other. Panic took over and I began to pull against the straps, cussing them all the while. Then some-one put a rubber mask over my mouth and nose and that was the last thing I remember until I woke up.

The first thing I remember feeling when I came out of the anesthetic, was the awful burning in my bladder. Then I found out I couldn't move my arms or legs. I vaguely remembered the straps on the table.

It took a while for my head to clear. The room was blurry and spun around a lot. I had a hell of a headache and my muscles were cramped from being in the same position so long. A nurse, wearing a surgical mask leaned over me and said something but I didn't understand. I tried to talk but my mouth was too dry and it tasted like chemicals.

I don't know how long it took but I finally got my shit together enough to try to find out what they had done to me. I raised my head a little and got the shock of my life.

My arms and legs were encased in smooth, white plaster casts. Worse, I was wearing a pair of adult size plastic pants. Part of me didn't want to believe it but when I sensed the heat and the padding between my legs, I knew they had me in diapers.

I must have grunted or something because the nurse came back and told be to relax and be quiet. She gave me a sip of water and that helped a lot. As soon as I lay back down I sensed a trickle of pee begin to run out of me. I froze with the shock of it. I tried to clamp down, to stop the flow, but I had no control. I felt hot water hit the diaper and spread out. It felt awful. I was ashamed. The plastic pants didn't show that anything had happened.

The nurse had disappeared again. I tried to figure out what they were up to. I felt a little better when I remembered that post-op patients sometimes have temporary bladder control problems but I still wanted to know why they had put me under and why I was in casts to the point I couldn't move.

By the time Moira turned up, I was most curious and more than a little pissed off. Pee was leaking out of me as if I was a busted radiator and I couldn't do a thing about it. I judged the diaper to be about soaked and yet the thought of asking for "a change" was too humiliating to take seriously.

She circled me. I realized that I was still on the examining table but there were no straps holding me any more. The casts took care of that function. She wore a very satisfied look. She had a secret to tell and she was going to make me beg for it.

"Don't you want to know what's happened to you?" she asked coyly.

"I'm sure you'll get around to telling me in your own sweet time," I said and grunted with the effort of trying to lift an arm encased in plaster.

It seemed heavier than I expected. Then I noticed the doughnut-like thing around my wrist. A weight. A quick check told me that I wore one on each wrist and ankle. I was helpless. I did my best to hide the shiver of fear that ran down my spine.

Moira came up to the side of the table and leaned so close that I could smell her perfume and see that her eyeliner needed a touch-up.

"You're in diapers, Sandy. Just think about that for a moment.You're all bundled up like a baby and helpless to do anything about it."

I felt my lower lip tremble despite my best efforts at maintaining a tough face. I knew I was in diapers. God how I knew! But, the unspoken questions were, for how long and why?

"I know," I said quietly, "any idiot can see that."

Moria started her pacing again. It drove me wild because I couldn't keep her in my field of vision. When you're helpless, you notice these things. I twisted and grunted but the casts and the heavy weights attached to my limbs were very effective in keeping me subdued. All I managed to do was tire myself out.

"Go ahead, truggle. It won't do you any good."

I hated Moira for saying that. It was true and the truth hurts. I was losing my cool, and fast.

"OK, game time is over, you win. What's this all about?"

I didn't like the sound of my own voice. It was too desperate, too pleading. I was signalling my surrender whether I liked it or not.

She took her sweet time about answering. I wondered if she knew what "pregnant pause" meant. She made me sweat those seconds before she replied.

"Oh, it's quite simple really. The Alternative Sentencing Program works on a very basic principle. Rather than lock people like you

up in a prison as a negative reinforcement against your

unacceptable behavior, in your case prostitution, we provide a

more.... intimate form of negative reinforcement."

She hadn't really come out and said it but a dark suspicion began to form in the back of my mind at the same time as another burst of pee flooded into my diaper (it really bothered me to think of it as my diaper). I was too stunned to offer any comment and

Moira wasn't going to rush in with the good news. She wanted me

to beg for it. I did.

My voice was almost a whisper, not quite what I had intended but

it got me an answer.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you realized what you're wearing?"

"Yeah, diapers. I've mentioned that, remember?"

I wasn't sure if I really wanted to hear the rest of what she had to say but part of me was dying of curiosity.

"Remember your sentence? It's one to three years. That means you

can count on at least 12 months of pads and plastic pants." She

leaned close again, "I wonder how many of your `johns' will go

for this rig!"

She slapped my plastic panties hard enough to cause another rush

of hot wet pee. I moaned despite myself.

She resumed her strutting. I was reminded of a Nazi officer in a

war movie. It was time to clear up the last obvious point, no

matter how awful the news.

"Moira," I said as carefully and rationally as I could, "you

can't keep me in casts for a year. It would cost as much as a prison cell."

She paused at the side of the table and began to run her hand

over the plastic panties. I wondered if she could feel the sodden

padding underneath. She pressed harder and it began to arouse me.

I wanted to pull away but my legs were too heavy with the casts

and weights. I tried to ignore it while I waited for her to drop

the penny.

"Don't worry about the casts. They're only for a week or so. Just

a little appliance to help your indoctrination. No, the real gem

is the shunt that we placed in your urethra where it joins the

bladder."

She let her stroking get harder, knowing full well what she was

doing.

"You're incontinent, Sandy. You have no choice but to wear

diapers until we decide otherwise. For the next year you'll be

peeing and probably messing yourself uncontrollably. Now how do

you like that?"

I wanted to scream. I had guessed as much a lot earlier but I

hadn't been willing to admit it to myself. There I was lying on a

table as helpless as an infant and this woman had just told me I

was going to be a very big toddler for at least the next year.

Finally I did scream, and it felt good. At least until the two

ape-women returned and put a rubber thing in my mouth.

I used to like to be tied up during sex, just to feel helpless

for a while. The next four days were like that but different.

There sure as hell was no fun in it for me.

I had a private room, thank God. The last thing I needed was some

horny male psycho taking advantage of me. The hospital wasn't air

conditioned and it was July. I had nothing to do but lie there

all day, sweat, think about being in diapers and suffer through

Moira's cheerful visits.

Well, I did have some amusement. If you've ever had to wear a

cast in the summer time you'll know all about the itch. After a

while it drives you crazy. Between that and trying to get used to

using diapers for all my eliminations, I was just about ready for

admission as a regular patient by the time Moira came to take me

home.

Whoever thought up this crazy scheme knew what they were doing.

With my arms immobilized and nothing else in the room to distract

me, I had no choice but to focus on the diapers that were changed

three times a day and my many other discomforts.

As far as the nurses were concerned, I was a baby. They refused

to talk to me no matter what I said to them and generally treated

me as a newborn infant.

The morning shift started at 7 AM. Two of them would come in,

remove my always sodden and sometimes messed diapers and bathe

me. By the time they had fresh, extra thick, cloth diapers and a

pair of plastic panties on me, I was sweaty again but it felt

good anyway. Then one of the aides would feed me my breakfast. I

liked that because they cranked the head of the bed up and I got

a different view for a few minutes. They, however, always lowered

it again at the end of the meal and only by looking down my nose

could I see Moira as she preached little sermons standing at the

foot of my bed. After breakfast came the first of the four or

five super-sized baby bottles of juice. A nurse would put a

pillow on my chest, shove the big rubber nipple in my mouth and

prop the bottle against the pillow. I hated the taste but not as

much as I hated the thought of where that liquid was going to end

up.

They feed me a big bottle like that about every two hours. The

result was that I pissed myself constantly, every occasion a

reminder of my new condition.

Moira would have done well as an intelligence officer. Each day

she came in right after breakfast and gave me lots to think about

after she left. I hated her for it.

It took her five days to describe just what the ASP was going to

mean for me during the next 12 to 36 months. The more I heard,

the more I wished I had chosen prison.

Because I was the first ASP prisoner (she used that term a lot

and seemed to like it) Moira and I were going to be living

together. She assured me that her apartment was big enough and

that I should give up mine and put my furniture in storage. As it

turned out, I didn't have any choice. By the time she took me

home, she had already called the storage company and cancelled my

lease.

Business is business, as Moira likes to say, and it turns out

that more than a few hospital supply companies were willing to

donate disposable and cloth diapers, plastic panties and

restraint items, all for my personal benefit. Moira glowed when

she told me about one company that was providing a diaper

restraint belt as a prototype, just for me.

When I asked her why such a belt would be necessary if I was

truly incontinent she replied, "Well, dear, we can't have you

fiddling with yourself, now can we?"

That bothered me. I was just getting used to the diaper trip, in

a curious sort of way. I hadn't thought about sex until then. As

soon as she mentioned it, I got horny. After she told me the

diapers were to act as a kind of chastity belt, I got desperate

for some relief. With my arms were useless, my legs too heavy to

squeeze together and since there was no point in asking anyone to

do it for me, all I could do was I gritted my teeth and tried to

ignore the oldest itch of all.

As I lay there, immobilized and helpless, the one thing I just

couldn't get used to, was the thought of messing myself. During

the first couple of days it was easy to hold back. As soon as the

chart they kept on me failed to report a bowel movement, Moira

was on my case.

"It's inevitable, you know," she said with a smirk.

It was the morning of my third day and I was still hanging on to

my pride.

"Moira, it won't compromise your little program to let me use a

bedpan once in a while."

"Oh, my dear, but it would."

She traced her long fingernails over my taut plastic panties. It

made me horny, all the more because I wanted it so much and yet

couldn't do a thing to stop her.

"I told you that the inconvenience, discomfort and embarrassment

of being in diapers was your therapy."

Now she was stroking my inner thighs. I wanted desperately to

close my legs but the casts and weights were too heavy. I was

beginning to breathe heavily and she noticed, flashed my a cruel

smile and then continued.

"Now I can't think of anything more inconvenient, uncomfortable

and embarrassing than being made to mess yourself, can you?"

I grunted to stifle a moan of pleasure. The bitch! She was

deliberately turning me on while she talked about the worst fate

I could imagine. I looked down at my erect nipples. Moira too was

giving them a hungry look. I wondered if she was bi or gay.

Suddenly she snatched her hand away. She had timed it well. A few

seconds more and I would have had a delicious little orgasm.

"Well, unless you tell me right now that you're going to be a

good little girl and get on with business I'll have to tell the

nurses to give you some encouragement."

I was frustrated and mad. I told her where to shove the idea and

get out of my room. To my surprise, she did. As she left, I began

to wonder what "encouragement" meant.

I found out soon enough. The two apes came back with a lot of

equipment. I figured out what they were up to and realization

caused me to start to scream and struggle, not that it did any

good. To shut me up, one of them stuck a bottle full of juice

into my mouth. It had some kind of holding harness that they

tightened around my head. It was suck or drown, so I started to

gurgle away while I watched them get on with their thing.

They stuck two chrome poles into slots at the foot of my bed and

then ran a couple of canvass straps from the tops of the poles to

my ankles. A couple of seconds later my legs were being hoisted

into the air.

With my legs spread and in the air they had full access to my

crotch. I had been changed only an hour or so earlier so the

diaper was still in pretty good shape. I had expected them to

open the diaper but it turned out differently.

Another nurse came in with a big enema bag and a long length of

hose. The nozzle looked strange. It was long and had two

bulb-like things on it. I got scared. The satisfied looks on

their faces made it all the worse.

As usual, they said nothing to me while they greased this monster

up. Then one of them pulled the crotch of my diapers and plastic

panties to one side while the other began to push the rubber

thing up my behind. It hurt like hell and I tried to tell them as

much. The bottle in my mouth was strapped in tight and the casts

made sure I wasn't in any position to interfere. I screamed

against the rubber nipple but all I got for it was another

mouthful of water. Deeper and deeper it went in until I thought I

couldn't stand it any more.

Then they showed me what the bulbs were all about. One of them

attached an inflation ball, like on a blood pressure cuff, to the

rubber thing in my rear and began to squeeze. I could feel

something inflating inside me. It wasn't too bad at first but

they weren't content with letting it be comfortable. Soon I was

screaming again. I was sure the damn thing was ripping me apart

inside.

The second balloon had been left outside. As it started to swell,

I guessed how the damn thing worked. Pretty soon my poor little

rosebud had a rock hard balloon on either side of it and even I

was sure that nothing inside me would leave my body until I was

"uncorked."

They attached the hose from the enema bag to the thing in my rear

and hung the bag up. I could see the clamp that until now had

kept the solution from leaking out. One of the nurses put her

hand on it, looked me dead in the eye, winked, and then took the

clamp off.

It felt as if Niagara Falls was running up my ass and my body

tensed up with the impact. It drove me mad. I pulled against the

casts all I could and screamed into that damned rubber nipple

but, as usual, I was totally helpless. My strength soon drained

away and I ended up lying there quietly, making pitiful little

moaning sounds while the nurses pressed the enema bag to make

sure I got as much of the solution as possible. When the bag was

about as empty as it was going to get, they clamped the hose just

outside the rubber thing, turned on their heels and left the

room.

I hurt like hell. I looked down at my swollen belly and began to

cry. I had no idea it could be this bad. It had to be worse than

messing a diaper.

Pretty soon the contractions started. Some far off place in my

tortured brain figured it out. They wouldn't use just plain tap

water, there would be something in the solution to force my colon

to hard contractions. The spasms got worse and I was screaming

again. By now the bottle was empty so at least I had the

satisfaction of hearing my own protests. Each spasm also caused a

mini flood in my diapers and I was reminded of what else would

soon be filling my baby pants.

I was sobbing loudly and feeling pretty sorry for myself when

Moira strolled in. I couldn't bear to look at her, to give her

the satisfaction of seeing me in total defeat. All I could do was

turn my head away and after she got tired of walking around the

bed a few times she told me to smarten up or she would have my

head strapped into place.

After I had kept eye contact with her for a few seconds she

reached over and removed the bottle and its harness. It was

wonderful to have my mouth free again!

"I'm sorry." I blubbered, "I'll be good from now on. Please make

them stop it!"

It wasn't just a ploy. I was really begging for relief.

"You can't get out of it that easily, Sandy. What good would a

punishment be if we stopped it as soon as the prisoner repented.

No. It's important that you learn this lesson well. The nurses

will be back in about half an hour."

"Will they change me?" The old specter of messing myself was

still there. I had to know.

"I suspect so. Not right away, of course."

She paused to watch my face and read there my revulsion. "I'll

see you tomorrow."

After Moira left, the seconds seemed to drag. The spasms were

getting worse again. My body was insulted at the liquid invasion

and wanted the intruder to leave but the double balloons held

painfully tight. I began to sob again.

When they finally did come to take care of me, I wasn't sure

which was going to be worse, being full of fluid or expel-ling it

and a lot more. I knew that I didn't have a choice and I was

going to find from personal experience.

They reached between my legs. Suddenly the inner bulb was

deflating. They pulled it out while it was still pretty big and

after rearranging my diaper crotch and panties, stood back to

admire their handiwork.

It didn't take long. The next spasm made me explode. I cried out

with the relief of it. For the next few minutes I lived to expel.

It was all I could think of and all I cared about. When I was

finally empty I came down to earth and realized how full my

diapers were.

It wasn't really all that bad, I thought. Then each nurse began

loosening one of the canvass straps that held my ankles high.

They deliberately lowered my legs slowly. Each degree of the

change of angle made the cesspool in my diapers shift and spread.

Slowly the sticky mess oozed out from between my legs and into

the clean and almost dry parts of the diaper. It made me start to

cry.

"Please, please don't," I begged them through my tears.

They were enjoying themselves too much to pay attention to me.

When my legs were back on the bed, they watch with stone faces

while I cried and pleaded with them. Then they left me alone,

more alone than I'd ever been before.

The enema did a lot to kill my spirits. I felt my self-confidence

draining away as surely as my water flowed into the ever present

diapers. With no one to talk to besides Moira, I noticed that I

began to speak more softly, more reverently. Moira controlled my

comfort. I realized that deep inside and no matter how much I

hated what she was doing to me, I had to please her.

By the time the fourth day rolled around, I had begun to define

my world by the condition of my diapers. My crotch was one of the

few areas of my body that I could feel and whatever I felt there

became pretty important.

Most people divide up their day around meal times. I started

thinking of the day in terms of diaper changes. I looked forward

to them for more reasons than just plain comfort. There was the

sponge bath that went with it and the careful attention to my

shaven pubis. I was starving for sexual contact and my box had

become very sensitive to even the slightest touch, so when they

wiped me there or rubbed in powder I just about swooned. I had

come to understand why my pubic hair had been shaved. The feel of

a fresh, clean diaper rubbing up against my soft sex lips was

almost more than I could bear, especially if the nurse tightened

the diaper more than usual.

I messed myself daily but tried to do it just before the diaper

change at noon. That way, I would not stay in the messy pants

very long. I did it also because I couldn't stand the thought of

another enema, not because I ever got used to the filling my own

diaper. Even then, it was hard work. The body isn't designed to

relieve itself when laying flat on the back. My buttocks were

always partly pressed together and this made the whole operation

that much worse to clean up. I found out later that cleaning me

up was a punishment for the nurses.

On the fifth day Moira told me I was to be released into her

custody later that day. First the casts would have to come off

and a few other "procedures" performed. I didn't like the sound

of the last part but the idea of having my limbs back under

control was wonderful.

As soon as Moira left, the nurses came in, removed my plastic

pants and diapers but left a pile of disposable absorbent pads

under me. Then they departed, leaving me with my crotch fully

exposed and that made me nervous. I sensed I wasn't going to like

this one little bit.

Moira came back with a cute little beautician who carried a

suspicious looking black case. She couldn't have been more than

18 and she stopped cold when she saw me.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, and turned to Moira. "You can't mean

it."

"Indeed we do. Now, just think about that bonus I promised you

and get to work. Your customer is incapable of giving you any

trouble. It may get a little wet but we'll give you rubber

gloves."

The beautician took another look at me. I gazed back, too

embarrassed and curious to say anything. I could see the doubt

written across her face. I decided that she was going to need

some help if I was ever going to get out of this place.

"It's OK," I said, trying to sound reassuring, "I'll try not to

pee on you but, as you know, I can't help myself very much

there."

She came up to the bed and put her case down on the mobile table.

I was curious as hell to know what she was up to and yet part of

me didn't really want to know at all. I kept telling myself that,

whatever it was, it was also part of my ticket out of there.

After she opened the case and I saw the electrolysis equip-maned

I lost control and went nuts. I started cursing them both and

struggling against the casts.

It turned out that I should have kept control of myself. Moira

called in the two apes who shoved a feeding gag in my mouth and

then gave me a shot to quiet me down. It did that, all right, but

did nothing for the pain as this little kid of a girl started

zapping my pubic hairs, one by one.

I heard myself give a little grunt of pain every time the

electric needle touched me. It wasn't that each touch was that

bad, it was the number of times she had to touch me. She left in

her wake a carpet of soreness that had my eyes watering in a few

minutes.

The beautician stopped and looked up at Moira.

"I can't do this any more. I'm hurting her and it will only get

worse when I get to the wet parts."

Moira had been watching the whole thing with a big smile.

"Don't you worry yourself about that, honey. This bitch is a

prisoner and what you're doing is part of her punishment. She

agreed to this rather than go to prison. Keep going. The law is

on your side."

She went back to work and I went back to suffering. By the end of

it, I had quietly vowed revenge on Moira. Just give me one good

chance.

By the time she finished, my entire crotch felt hot and sore. The

kid left, looking shaken. Then the apes came back with a couple

of adult disposable diapers and a pair of plastic panties that

didn't have snaps. They looked just like real baby pants. They

slit the plastic backing of one of the diapers and put it inside

the other diaper before bundling me up. It was a good thing I was

still gagged, the touch of the diaper on my swollen and sore

pubis made me scream against the rubber thing in my mouth.

Then they brought in a young guy who leered at my bare breasts

and stared at my diapered loins a lot while he cut the casts. As

soon as each cast was off, Moira released the weight on that

limb. I tried moving my arms and legs. After five days of forced

immobility, they were stiff and weak but it felt delicious to

have my body back.

Moira helped me up from the bed. My legs were very unsteady and I

leaned on her while we took a few steps. It was the first time I

had walked while diapered. The bulk between my legs rubbed

against my tortured pubis and I started to cry from the pain but

it was still wonderful to be out of that bed.

One of the nurses came in and gave me a shot of Adrenalin. That

helped a lot. Then Moira got my clothes.

I looked at the blouse and mini skirt I had been wearing the day

all this started. They looked as if they belonged to someone

else. By now I knew that my hooking days were over, at least for

as long as ASP had control of me.

"Your mini skirt won't fit over the diapers," Moira said while I

buttoned the blouse with shaky fingers, "so I brought you a

larger one."

It turned out to be one of those vinyl types that are sup-posed

to look like leather. I hated it on sight but was in no mood for

a fight. I just nodded and picked up my pantyhose. Moira pulled

them from my hands.

"You can forget pantyhose as long as you're in diapers. The nylon

slides down on the plastic panties. We'll get you some garter

belts later."

I stepped into the skirt and pulled it up. Moira had guessed the

size right but it pressed the diapers closer to my body, another

constant reminder of my condition. I took a few steps. Both the

disposable diapers and the plastic panties crackled loudly with

each movement. It shook me up.

"Moira, I can't go out in public like this! Anybody who gets

within 10 feet will guess what I'm wearing!"

She gave me one of her special smiles, "That's not my problem,

Sandy."

I put on my black spike pumps and tried to get used to the

height. I was still pretty weak and it took me a while to get the

hang of it. Moira sat on the bed and looked at me as if I was a

thoroughbred colt taking her first steps.

"Let's go," she said finally.

With a pounding heart, dry throat and burning crotch I took my

first steps into the outside world as a diapered adult, a

babypants prisoner.

[Cute Baby]

Just loved this, I hope there will be more to come soon, and her punishment and humiliation wil be for the 3 yaars and not the one year, by then she will be totally dependent on diapers and her owners.

[diaperpt]

see http://www.dailydiap...=1

I had posted what I had of this story from Sissybecky's old site and BabyLock added the strictly BDSM version of the story.

Thanks for reposting it in it's entirety. It seems like someone had taken the original BDSM story and was in the process of changing it to a diaper story. I'm so glad to have all of it now!

It was a great story and ought to be remembered.