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

The Struggle


Recommended Posts

Author's note: This is a Cushypen request that turned epic in length.

 

Prologue:  What’s in a name?

  Jamie Vasquez leaned back on the couch in her office, nursing her boy toy.  This past year’s model, Jackson, mewled as he suckled from her teat; using one hand to knead and squeeze at her right breast, while the other one clumsily groped and stroked her left.

 

Jackson hadn’t been much to look at before Jamie “promoted” him to product tester, but he was quite the sight now.  Both of them were, in fact.  She, with her light pink business suit with blazer, skirt, and matching heels, with her crisp white blouse unbuttoned to reveal a nursing bra.  Him, wearing nothing more than a disposable diaper with and a baby blue bonnet, a matching terry bib with the words “Mommy’s Messy Eater” catching the little drops of milk dribbling from his lips.

 

Jamie hummed tunelessly as Jackson nursed, patting the back of his Pampers. Elmo and Cookie Monster smiled outward from Jackson’s bum towards the wall of monitors in front of Jamie; an odd mix of CNN, Fox News, Stock Market Feeds, TV Land, Turner Classic Movies, PBS, and good old fashioned porn broadcasting from the myriad of screens.  Jamie never spent more than a minute focusing on any given feed, but this was easier than changing the channels.  Jackson, as trained, really only paid attention to the latter two.

 

She looked down at the diaper and smiled back at the cartoon characters.  It had been tricky brokering that private deal with Procter & Gamble to give her her own private stock of scaled up diapers, Jamie reflected, but it had been worth it.  She wanted anyone who might walk in on her and her baby boyfriends to instantly realize who and what they were looking at.

 

Even a millisecond of a potential associate wondering if that bulging white and pastel around the grown man’s hips were anything other than a diaper was a waste in her opinion.  She was the one in charge; he was nothing more than the baby. It also stopped her men from attempting to lie to themselves or rationalize their situation.  Not that Jackson had had any illusions about what a big baby he had been for the longest time.  He had held out longer than most, but those days were long since passed.

 

Jamie’s nose wrinkled involuntarily as she inhaled.  She pulled back the waistband of the giant infant’s diaper and took a peek inside.  Satisfied, she reached around and gave the front end a tender squeeze with equally satisfying results.  Even through the layers of soaked padding, she felt Jackson’s member go stiff and rigid, his entire body shuddering in complete anticipation.  A few precious seconds later, Jackson began dry humping the palm of her hand, whimpering and moaning into her breasts while he rubbed up against her. Though, to be precise, calling it “dry” humping wouldn’t have been the best descriptor considering the state of his Pampers.

 

It was kind of pitiful, really.  The act was more akin to what a horny lapdog might do as opposed to a real man.  Truth was though, Jamie had long since had her fill of “real” men.  Considering what he had likely wanted to do to her when they first met, Jamie infinitely preferred this.  Jamie sighed and pushed her thick black rimmed glasses back up her nose with her free hand.  She was bored, frankly, and feeling a little claustrophobic.  The man-baby who was trying to suck out creamy thick white stuff from her while trying to eject his own brand into his diaper wasn’t helping the situation.

 

Jamie might have been the “Mommy” in this scenario, but she felt trapped at the moment.  Jamie hated feeling trapped. Best to end it quickly, and get it over with.

 

She bent her head to Jackson’s ear, and with practiced phrasing and intonation, she whispered, “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby makes cummies in his diapers.”  A tired and muffled moan escaped Jackson’s lips as he was brought to the point of orgasm by those simple and perverse words.  He went slack in her lap, panting heavily.

 

A quiet “Thank you, Mommy” escaped his lips as he closed his eyes and adjusted himself. So that he laid with his head in her lap.

 

“Good baby,” Jamie cooed as she stroked Jackson’s forehead.  It was more out of habit, this phrase, then any actual tenderness.

 

Jamie pursed her lips, looking down at him.  She took a deep breath and wrinkled her nose again.  Better.  But not good.

 

“Nanny,” Jamie called, “change the baby, please.”

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ,” the thing in the black maid’s outfit replied with a mechanical and stilted intonation of each syllable.  Then again, why shouldn’t Nanny sound mechanical?  It was, after all, a machine.  The automaton was top of the line and cutting edge in its design and capabilities, but there was still something not quite right about it.  Maybe it was the slightly jerky way that it moved, or how its facial expressions never seemed sincere- it was something to do with the eyes, Jamie suspected.  Its speech patterns also had that undeniable clunk to them, like when dealing with the automated operator on the telephone.  If you didn’t suspect that Nanny wasn’t human before you talked to her, you were certain of it after but a few words.

 

So even though Nanny had curly brown hair that a cancer patient would kill for, or amazingly realistic skin and body proportions, it still somehow managed to fall and get stuck somewhere in the uncanny valley.  Fortunately, Jamie didn’t need another human, she just needed something to deal with Jackson’s diaper.

 

Nanny picked Jackson up as easily as if he were a cat and carried him to the changing table at the back of Jamie’s office.  Jamie hadn’t changed Jackson’s diaper herself in weeks now, and if Jackson knew anything, that fact may have caused him worry.  Fortunately, worrying, or most any kind of forethought was beyond Jackson’s capabilities these days.  Jamie’s particular brand of training and conditioning her little toys had that affect after a while.

 

Still, she mused to herself, Jackson had managed to thoroughly use his diaper without Jamie noticing; and that was something new.  No grunts of discomfort, no squirming or re-positioning so he could wet himself.  No silent “Ahhhs” as he relieved himself in his pants.  No moaning, or anything that might indicate that he might even be aware of the condition of his innards or the state of his diaper.  As far as Jamie could tell, he was in a clean diaper one minute, and then he wasn’t.  Perhaps he had finally crossed the line from Dominance induced dependence, and was now well and truly incontinent.

 

Or perhaps, Jamie thought as she got up from the couch and picked up her breast pump from the little table beside her couch, maybe she just wasn’t as attentive to him anymore.

 

While Jackson was having his intimates wiped down and the heavily used diaper slipped out from underneath him, Jamie was expressing breast milk into a bottle and walking to the monitors that adorned her wall.  She had won the game, again, and she loved winning.  But as any player might tell you, the thrill is in the journey more than the victory.  But before she could start anew, it was time to end the game.

 

As Jackson’s privates were being powdered and a fresh Pampers slid under him, Jamie reached into her pocket and pulled out the little case that she always kept with her.  Fifty years ago, it might have been a cigarette case, with its black leather coating and silver lining around the edges.  But when she popped it open, only a single blue tablet remained.

 

She crushed the tablet in the palm of her hand before slipping it into the bottle with her expressed milk.  Disturbingly, the milk made little fizzing sounds as the chunks of blue powder mixed with it.  Should she give Jackson the talk before giving him the bottle, or not?  She thought it over only briefly before deciding against it.  Jackson wasn’t strong enough for the talk.  Not anymore.

 

 

“Bottle time,” Jamie practically sang as Nanny finished taping Jackson’s new diaper shut. “Here you go, sweetie,” she offered the bottle to the man baby still lying on the changing table.

 

Jackson snatched it up, enthusiastically and popped it into his mouth.  Jamie smiled.  He took a few greedy pulls from the nipple before stopping abruptly.  The bottle fell from Jackson’s mouth and tumbled to the floor.

 

“Mommy?!” Jackson whimpered, looking both hurt and betrayed.

 

“Nanny,” Jamie ordered.  “Hold the baby down while I give him his bottle.”  Two impossibly strong hands grabbed the man by the shoulders, pinning him down to the mat.

 

Jackson didn’t scream or kick or cry, but his breath was becoming more and more ragged with each passing second while Jamie bent over and picked up the bottle.  He wasn’t fighting though, not really.  He was fidgeting just enough so that what was left of his dignity could be maintained at the very end.

 

They knew in the end.  Somehow they always knew.  Maybe it was the pill. All the other pills were tasteless, so why shouldn’t this final be just as bland?  But why would it need to be?  More likely, maybe it was something in Jamie’s own eyes that gave it away.

 

“Don’t you want your ba-ba?” Jamie asked, still partly in character, while she offered the bottle to Jackson.  Jackson, for his part, kept his mouth shut.   Jamie’s nostrils flared, but she repressed her frustration.  Then she sighed.  Fine.  Time to do it the easy way.

 

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby drinks his ba-ba.”

 

Jackson’s lips reached out and accepted the nipple.  His sucking wasn’t greedy or mewling or infantile this time though.  It was more controlled; more mechanized; like how Nanny might drink a bottle if she were capable.  The man baby’s breath, meanwhile was becoming labored and heavy.  He was having a panic attack.

 

“Shhhhh,” Jamie stroked her old toy’s cheeks. “It’s alright, baby.  It’s alright.  Everything’s gonna be fine.”  As far as Jamie was concerned, it was true, too.  In a little under a minute, Jackson would never experience anything akin to real worry or fear or anger or sadness ever again.  She brushed aside the tears that were starting to pour out from Jackson’s eyes as the bottle emptied and hollow slurping sounds rang around the plastic cylinder.

 

Then she uttered the words: “Bye bye big boy.”

 

Jackson’s body convulsed as his eyes, the one thing left to him looked around the room in a panic.  Jamie took his face in her hands.

 

“Look at me, baby.” She ordered.  “Just look at me.  It’s almost done. Just let it happen.  It’s okay.  It’s okay.  Good baby.”  Tonally, she might have been a nurse instructing a patient to stay conscious despite the pain, but really, the opposite was what was happening.  Jamie never could pinpoint the exact moment when it happened, when the last vestiges of intelligence and rational thought left the subject.  But by the time the body stopped shaking, only a blank and non-understanding gaze looked back at her.  Jackson had literally been born again.

 

“Good baby,” she said, before giving him one final kiss on the forehead.

 

“Nanny,” she turned to the brown haired automaton.  “Bundle that up and call Beatrice.  See if she’s still interested.”

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ.” The robot responded, releasing Jackson just long enough to fetch a rather large swaddling blanket from under the changing table and begin the task of properly wrapping the tremendous bundle of joy. Jamie had made a few obscenely rich friends who wanted their own big babies to play with and do whatever they wanted to them.  They didn’t have the knowledge, or the means that Jamie possessed, so they had to settle for her leftovers and paid her for the privilege. Of course, her old dolls couldn’t be trusted to keep certain secrets, could they?  So the final bottle was a necessary precaution.

 

No one minded though.  Her friends felt it made their big babies more “authentic”.  The babies, for they couldn’t even be called “man babies” by this point, didn’t notice the difference.  Everyone was cared for, everyone was happy in their own limited way, and Jamie got a fresh start.

 

Speaking of which, who was next?

 

Jamie sashayed over to the wall of monitors and pressed a button on the upper left screen.  All of the monitors blinked and switched from their respective channels to a series of high angled overhead shots.  Gone was the music.  Gone were the various talking heads in the media or the commercials.  Instead, a rather dull ticking of numbers at the bottom indicating the date and time rolled by endlessly on each screen.

 

The views on the monitors were decidedly mundane:  Some showed the little corporate lemmings in accounting plucking away at their computers.  Others showed salesmen and advertisers making calls. A few showed the brutes in the shipping department loading and unloading boxes and crates. A few went to the bathroom.  The whole affair was decidedly boring and free of narrative, but, you could only get so much from security cameras.

 

“Nanny, get over here once you’ve put that baby to bed,” Jamie ordered.

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ,” the mechanical assistant responded back.  Jamie was only slightly distracted by Jackson’s whimpering as he was loaded into an oversized cot.

 

“Nanny,” Jamie pointed to the screen?  “Who’s this?”  Jamie pointed to a little boy of man, with long blonde hair that almost matched her own.  The pretty boy looked like puberty had barely touched him as he wandered from monitor to monitor passing out coffee to his superiors.

 

“ChEcKiNg EmPlOyEe ReGiStRy,” Nanny whirred.  Then it spit out, “KaYdEn ThOmPsOn.”

 

Jamie pursed her lips and twisted them to one side of her face.  Obviously, she didn’t like that answer.  Still, better to be safe than sorry.  She reached into the other side of her coat pocket and pulled out the only other material possession besides the case that she kept on her at all times.

 

It was small enough to fit into her hand.  Smaller than a smartphone, and slightly bigger than a compact mirror; though to be sure it had more in common with the former than it did with the latter.  Gingerly, she touched the screen and entered a few figures into the tiny machine.  Then she gazed with the same rapt expectation that a gambling addict throws to the slot machines.

 

The little square device let out a tiny buzzing noise, and Jamie frowned.

 

“He’s adorable,” Jamie sighed.  “But no.”   Jamie stared up at the screen.  She pointed out a fat, middle aged balding man.  Not exactly her type, but it wasn’t like she was planning to have sex with him.  His bodily proportions were more in line to what she wanted to treat him as, anyways.

 

“What about that one?”  Jamie asked.

 

“JaSoN SpArKmAn,” the droid responded.

 

“Hmmm….Jason,” Jamie said as she typed a few more figures into her little gadget.  Once again, she was met with a sharp buzz from her mini-computer.

 

“Close, but no cigar,” Jamie remarked, before going down the monitors.
Then she spied on the breakroom.  There were three of them, propping their heels up, and laughing about something the other had said.  One had a terrible case of adult acne.  No thank you.  Another had a beard that was very close to being against company grooming codes.  Jamie didn’t particularly like beards.  Hard to guess what was underneath them.  Jamie wasn’t about to have a bearded baby, but she didn’t want to have to guess at what her future toy might look like underneath.  Most likely a pass. And then there was the third.

 

He was skinny, but not scrawny.  It was always hard to tell from the camera, but he was decently tall, without being lanky.  Lithe was more like it.  Definite runner’s body.  She imagined him having a few inches on her, but not quite towering over her.

 

He appeared to be older than Jamie, but not too much older.  That was nothing new.  At twenty-six and running one of the world’s largest corporations, there were still plenty of men who had a few years on her.  This one appeared to be in that sweet spot in the transition to a “young professional” to just a “professional”.  He was in his late twenties to early thirties, tops.

 

His dark black hair was kept short enough that a comb wouldn’t have affected very much it at all.  Whether that was intentional or an attempt to hide any thinning spots, Jamie didn’t know.  It wasn’t quite military short; just toddler short. Jamie shivered at that thought and smiled.

 

“Nanny,” she pointed at the ring leader leaning back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. “That one?”

“JaCk GrAiNgEr,” the automaton recited.

 

Again, Jamie shuddered.  She pressed the tiny screen in the palm of her hand and licked her lips with anticipation.  A pleasant ding greeted her ears, and Jamie felt herself getting moist with anticipation.

 

Jamie had had Jacksons, and Johns, and Jims and even a Jaqueline when she wanted to experiment with a baby girl.  But never a Jack.  It was too simple.  Too easy.  And yet, here it was.   A perfect opportunity to test her theories.  She might never get another, better chance.

 

“He’ll do,” she grinned.  “Start the procedures and send him word of his new promotion.”

 

Jack: The Boy Who Cried Wolf

“So no shit, there I was,” Jack leaned forward in his chair over the breakroom table.  “I just got done running on the treadmill for a good solid hour, and I’m sweating balls, so I hit the showers.  And it’s a slow day, in the middle of summer in a college town, so there’s not a lot of people there that day.”

 

“Yeah?” Rick tentatively stroked his beard, waiting for Jack to continue another one of his stories from his misbegotten youth.

 

“Yeah,” Jack nods.  “So I’m bored, so I start singing.”

 

“Oh,” Marty half blanched, half belched, “You sing in the shower?  You’re not one of those people, are you?”

 

“In public no less,” Rick shook his head, mirroring Marty’s judgement.  “You combine the awkwardness of singing in public with showering outside of your own bathroom?”

 

“What?” Jack shrugged.  “Singing in the shower’s actually really good for your tone.  The acoustics make it so that you can hear yourself if you’re off pitch.  It’s science.”

 

“But in public?”  Rick asked.  “And show tunes?”

 

“Are you gonna let me finish my story, or what?” Jack asked, eager to get on with his tale.  He took their continued silence for acquiescence.  “So I’m just singing greased lightning,” Jack continued.  “Doing my thing.”  He started to pantomime washing his hair.

 

“When all of a sudden,” Jack paused for effect. “I hear singing. And it sounds just like from the movie.  And my first thought is, ‘Hey, I’m pretty good’.  Like, maybe the echo or something is giving my voice that little extra oomph.”

 

Jack’s coworkers cocked their heads, starting to be drawn into the story.

 

“But the voice isn’t quite right.  And I don’t sound that much like a singer.   Like it’s not quite keeping my tempo, or something.  I think maybe by coincidence the music was playing somewhere else, but the tempo is a little off and I know I’ve got the right tempo.  I can hear the song perfectly in my head.  And that’s when I realize that I hear this other, really familiar, voice singing with me, but there’s no music.  And then I stop, and the voice keeps singing.”

 

“So somebody’s joined you singing in the shower,” Marty chuckled, his pock marked face breaking out into a grin.   “That’s gotta be awkward.”

 

“Hold up, it gets better,” Jack said.  “So I stop, and then the guy singing with me quits singing and says ‘Don’t stop, you’re pretty good’.”

 

“Heh…phrasing” Rick muttered.

 

“But there’s something reeeeeally familiar about this voice. “ Jack went on, ignoring his work buddies.  “So I turn off the water, wrap a towel around me, and get out, and right there in the locker room with me, is John Travolta.

 

“Bullshit,” both of Jack’s friends remarked.

 

“What?!” Jack asked, incredulous that he would be disbelieved so easily.  “It’s true.  John Travolta went to the same gym that I did on a slow day and heard me singing in the shower, so he just joins in.”

 

“You were singing in the shower with John Travolta?” Marty asked.

 

“I mean, not like that,” Jack held his hands up in front of him as if it were some form of physical defense against Marty’s incredulity.  “I was in the shower, getting ready to leave. He’d just come in and was putting stuff away in a locker.  He heard me singing, and when you’re John Travolta, apparently you’re gonna sing back.”

 

“There’s no way,” Marty shook his head.

 

“Absolutely no way,” Rick echoed.

 

“Oh really?” Jack dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.  “Then how’d I get this?”

 

Jack pulled up a picture and showed it to them.  The picture had a much younger Jack in it, back when he was still in college or just out of it; back when acting like a teenager might still be expected of him, when he was just young and not so much immature.  And as for Travolta, he had that kind of well preserved timelessness to him, likely from botox or whatever those celebrities used to stay looking so young, but he was there in the picture nonetheless.

 

“Holy shit!”  Marty exclaimed.  “I can’t believe it!”

 

“Believe it,” Jack laughed.

 

“Dude,” Rick shook his head, still seemingly disbelieving.  “Awesome story and all, but that’s a new phone.”

 

“I keep that picture on me at all times,” Jack grinned.  “just so I can tell that story and shut the haters up.  That picture has had a home in five phones by now.”

 

“And I thought all your stories were complete bull,”  Rick said.

 

“Yeah, me too,” Marty agreed.

“What?” Jack frowned.  “What do you mean?”

 

“You gotta admit your stories do get a bit far-fetched,” Rick said bluntly.

 

“And you’re kind of a know-it-all,” Marty added.

 

“Know it all?” Jack sat up, feeling hurt.  “Like how.”

 

“How many times have you told us how to improve our sales pitches?”  Marty asked.

 

“A….couple,” Jack admitted reluctantly.

 

“And yet there’s the little matter of you’re behind both me and Marty this month.” Rick said.  “And this is probably the first of your stories that you have proof.”

 

“What other so-called stories have I told?”  Jack sat up straight, frowning.

 

“Your perfect SAT score.”  Rick said.

 

“I did have a perfect score,” Jack said defensively.

 

“Or how you could have gone to law school but you settled for a B.A. in English?” Marty added.

 

“I didn’t feel like law was the right thing for me,” Jack countered.

 

“Or how you influenced the development of the latest edition of Dungeons & Dragons?” Rick continued.
“No,” Jack corrected, “it was how one of my campaigns became the basis for the playtest.”

 

“Or how you briefly trained as a wrestler with a WWE Hall of Famer?” Marty said.

 

“He wasn’t in the Hall of Fame at the time,” Jack explained, “And, I’ll add, his wife was a total bitch.”

 

“What about that theatre troupe, you started?”  Rick asked. “The one that was going to be a full-time job and support itself doing off-broadway plays?”

 

“What about it?”  Jack asked.

 

“You’ve been working sales here for almost two years,” Rick pointed out, “and not once have you gotten salesperson of the month.  You’re good talk, and your stories are fun, but when push comes to shove; that’s all you are; talk and stories.”

 

“Best case scenario, you’re a cocky know-it-all.”  Marty said.

 

“Worst case scenario?” Jack asked, his blood pressure skyrocketing.

 

“You ever hear of the boy who cried wolf?”  Rick said.

 

“But…but… I’ve got Travolta!”  Jack pointed to the ten year old picture he kept on his phone.

 

“Okay, that’s one.” Marty said, but in no way sounded like he was conceding. “Everything else, you say you either got bored with or it didn’t pan out.”

 

“Well,” Jack said, “it didn’t.  But it all happened.”

 

“Prove it,” both of his co-workers said in unison.

 

 

 

“If I wanted to, I could be running this place in no time.” Jack pounded his fist on the breakroom table.  “I could be the department manager.”

 

“All you’d have to do is apply yourself,” Rick rolled his eyes, “and you’d be vice president in charge of sales at Infinitech.”

 

“I…” Jack stuttered, feeling flustered, “I could be your boss.  I’m just one lucky break and a bit of hard work away from getting a promotion.”

 

“Uh huh…” both friends said, but their tones showed that they didn’t believe a word of it.

 

That’s when the door to the breakroom flung open.  Enter Miss Penelope Martin: Head of the Sale’s Department and supervisor to all three men.  To say that she was an intimidating woman, would be an understatement.  She had a way of staring at you with her beady, lifeless, perpetually squinting eyes that were never quite in focus.  Her upper lip, covered in a fine gray fuzz, was constantly curled, as if she was disgusted just to exist.  Either that, or she always had something stuck in her teeth and she was trying to lick and trying to suck at the offending article of food.

 

Her fashion of dress, while technically business appropriate, did nothing to flatter her bulbous figure or her multiple chins, or how her gut perpetually arrived a few inches before the rest of her.

 

Despite this her decidedly flabby physique, anyone brave enough to analyze her walk might notice that none of her fat seemed to move or jiggle as she moved.  It was as if she were made of plastic.  She didn’t walk, so much as slide across the floor.  Had she been an animal, she would have been a slug, complete with a trail of slime marking her passage. Yet, based on the way she interacted with her subordinates, they were the slugs to her, and she was the salt shaker.

 

An employee knew when Penelope Martin was around because everyone she had passed was busy nervously clacking away at their computers or calling up companies on the phone, desperate to avoid her attention.  All three got up from the chairs, hesitating only because Miss Martin’s frame still filled the doorway.

 

“Grainger,” she said in her signature, phlegmy monotone.  “H.R. wants to see you.”

 

“Meeee?”  Jack squeaked out.

 

“You,” she said.

 

Jack looked at his friends, and then back to Miss Martin.

 

“Wh-Why?”  Jack asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Miss Martin said.  She practically spat the word “don’t.”  Penelope Martin was a terrible sales person, with almost no interpersonal skills besides the subtle art of the dead eyed stare down.  This same quality made her an excellent supervisor, however.

 

Miss Martin let out something that might have been a deflated sigh, or some sort of groan before adding, “Something about a promotion…I think.” She said.  “Go.”

 

A promotion?!  Jack looked to his friends,  his mouth agape.  And while Marty and Rick’s jaws weren’t exactly hitting the floor, they too looked a bit like fish who had been thrown out of the lake.

 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Jack said, as he slid by Miss Martin’s, feeling happier with each step.  Finally, he was being noticed for his talents.   His coworkers were still statues, frozen by either Miss Martin’s icy glare, or by the shock and awe that yet another one of Jack’s “wild stories” was about to be true; at least a little.  He didn’t honestly expect to be “running the place,” but a step up on the corporate ladder was a good start.

 

Jack peeked back over Miss Martin’s shoulder and flashed Marty and Rick a double thumbs up coupled with the biggest shit eating grin he could muster.

 

Grainger,” Miss Martin had suddenly done a one hundred and eighty degree turn and was now staring up at Jack. “Go.”

 

Jack turned around and all-but ran to the stairwell so he could go the H.R. department.

 

 

The Odd Interview

 

Excuse me?”  Jack asked, leaning forward in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

 

“At what age were you potty trained?”  Shelly from the H.R. department repeated with a calm and smooth delivery as if she had asked such an oddly personal and specific question routinely.  What Jack didn’t know was that she probably did.

 

Shelly was in her mid-sixties, with long black hair that went down to the middle of her back.  Hippy hair. Cher hair. Her lipstick was a little too red in Jack’s opinion and her eye shadow a tad too dark.  Her nails a little too long.  She was at that magical age where she was well past her mid-life crisis, and probably only a few years from a proper retirement, yet she hadn’t quite settled in to aging gracefully.    The fact that she was old enough to be Jack’s mother, and was asking when he had learned to wipe himself was also off putting.  Statistically speaking, she was closer to diapers than he was.  Realistically speaking, Jack’s assessment was completely wrong.

 

What Jack didn’t know was that Shelly really only interviewed for one particular position.  The rest of her time was spent serving a very particular clientele.  She wasn’t just kept on retainer for Infinitech because she had a certain amount of experience in reading individual tendencies; but also because she had a special place in Jaime’s heart as a mentor of sorts.

 

The interview had started off normally enough.  With Shelly asking the typical questions: “What College did you attend?”  “What is your greatest strength?”  “Where do you have room to improve?”  Then things starting getting weird.  Jack had already told this woman his full name, (Jack Ronald Grainger), his height (six feet even), and his weight, (a hundred and seventy five pounds), along with his hobbies, (Jack mentioned his brief stint on the track team in high school, but left out his time as a professional wrestler) and then she had swerved into “When were you potty trained?”.

 

“I’m not sure what that has to do with me and the job,” Jack shifted nervously.

 

“Do you remember being potty trained?” Shelly pressed, one eye brow raising slightly above the other and a thin smile of pleasure spreading across her lips.

 

“Uh, no, I guess.”  Jack scratched the back of his head.

 

“Well, that either means you matured early or you have a poor memory.” Shelly asked, while she typed notes on her computer.

 

“Oh, I’ve got a great memory,” Jack insisted.  “I remember almost everything.  Even stuff that you wouldn’t think a person should.”

 

“So, when were you potty trained?”  Shelly repeated, sounding more annoyed this time.  She had been sincerely hoping for him to make note on how ‘mature’ he was or wasn’t.  The little boys in big bodies so often did.

 

Jack shrugged.  “Two and a half, I guess.”

 

“I see,” Shelly clicked her tongue.  “Average.” And then she typed some more notes on her computer.

 

“But I learned really fast,” Jack countered. “I’m told that it took me only two weeks before I was dry during the day, and a week after that to stop wetting the bed.

 

“So you’re telling me you went from diapers to Pull Ups to potty trained in less than a month?”  Shelly cocked an eyebrow.  Clearly she found this claim of potty proficiency dubious.

 

“I didn’t wear Pull Ups,” Jack interjected.

 

“Of course you did,” Shelly insisted.

 

“No Ma’am. Pull Ups weren’t released until 1989,” Jack said, “I would have been four.”

 

Jack watched as Shelly typed into her computer and began scrolling, likely googling that information.  Jack sat back and crossed his arms, waiting to be proved right.  Shelly squinted and leaned in the computer.

 

“How did…?” Shelly started to ask, before letting the question drop off into the air.  It was odd.  She suddenly seemed disturbed or thrown off by Jack’s answer.  She had no problem asking him about diapers, but now that he suddenly demonstrated a bit of knowledge on the subject she seemed borderline disgusted with him.  “Do you have a fe….?” she stuttered and cut herself off.  “Are you an adu…?”

 

“Genius?” Jack shook his head.  “No.  I just have a really good memory.  I go to Trivia Night every Tuesday,” Jack said confidently. “I remember the answer to every question they ask, even the ones I don’t get right at first.  Then if it ever comes up again, I know it.  Needless to say, I win a lot more than I lose.”  Then he winked. “Told you I have a great memory.”

 

“Shelly,” a voice from over Jack’s shoulder called out.  “Are you done interviewing all of the candidates for that position yet?”  Jack turned around, instinctively looking for the source of the voice.

 

She wore blue jeans and a pink t-shirt that while not too tight, nicely displayed her breasts.  Jack thought so anyways.  She wore her blonde hair down and it stopped just at her shoulders.  She was definitely younger than Jack, but didn’t look so young as to be a “kid”.   She had a relaxed casualness about her as she walked right past Jack as if he weren’t even in the room.

 

“I’m just about to head out for the day,” the young woman leaned over the desk, “and I wanted to know how things were progressing.”

 

“We’re on our last candidate for the day,” Shelly from H.R. said, giving the blonde a sly wink.  Jack didn’t notice the wink, as he was too busy admiring the curve of the girls hips and sneaking a peak at her matching pink panties as she bent over a bit.  And he could hardly be blamed for not noticing the catlike smile the ladies shared, fully aware of where Jack’s attention was.

 

“Oh, this is one of them?”  the young woman said, sounding a bit surprised as she turned around.  “Hello,” she extended her hand to Jack.

 

“Oh..um..err” Jack stuttered before taking her hand and shaking it.  “Hellllooooo….”

 

“Jamie Vasquez,” she introduced herself.  Alarm bells went off in Jack’s head.  He knew that name!  It was printed on each of his paychecks.

 

“The second…?”  he ventured a guess.

 

“The only,” she corrected him.

 

“You’re…” Jack let that news sink in.  How could the President and founder of such a large and successful corporation such as Infinitech be so…so… “You’re…You’re…”

 

“Your boss?” Jamie smirked, self-satisfactorily.

 

“Pretty as all hell,” Jack blurted out.  Both of them blushed, and to Jamie’s surprise, it wasn’t entirely an act for her.

 

“Thank you,” Jamie said, brushing her hair back.  “So, you’re Jack,” she said, regaining her composure.  “Sorry to interrupt.”

 

“It’s fine,” Jack gushed. “It’s fine.  Totally fine.  After all, you’re the boss, right?”  Jamie kept staring at him, and Jack suddenly felt incredibly nervous.  “Right,” Jack said, mostly to fill up the empty space   “Heh.  Right.”

 

“Do me a favor, and stand up,” Jamie said.  Jack was on his feet in less than a second.  Jamie walked up to him and looked up at him in the eyes.  He was taller than her, but not by much.  Two or three inches give or take.  He certainly didn’t feel particularly big as she stared up and down at him.

 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Jack heard her say.  Jack breathed deeply and caught a whiff of her perfume.  Jack felt his face flush, and a palpable heat came off of him as blood rushed to an area away from his face.

 

“What’s your favorite food, Jack?” Jamie asked.

 

“Um…” Jack thought for a second.  “I don’t know.  A little bit of everything, I guess.”  Then he thought to ask, “Why?”

 

“I try to stay out of these in-house promotion interviews, generally, let Shelly do her job. But I think I’ll make an exception for you,” she said.  “Would you like to finish this interview tonight?”

 

“You mean…” Jack paused, “…like a date?”

 

Jamie stood up and smiled at him.  Her lids half closed like a cats and with a condescending smirk, she said “Is that what you want it to be?”

 

“Um…” Jack stopped himself.  “You’re the boss?”

 

Jamie’s smirk deepened.  “Clever boy,” she said.  “Tell you what, meet me tonight at Chili’s.  We’ll keep it relaxed.”  Jack’s eyes brightened.  He gulped, hard.  Was he really being asked out by his boss?  She wasn’t even his boss; more like the boss of his boss’s boss.  She was his great grand-boss.  She was someone who was more successful and more powerful than he could rightly dream of being.

 

And despite how intimidated he was right then, he couldn’t help but fantasize about making out with her.  Maybe he was reading too much into this.  Maybe it was a test.  Maybe it was a joke.  But what was the worst that could happen?

 

“Sure,” he finally said.

 

“Okay, then.”  Jamie smiled.  “I’ll meet you there.  How’s seven o’clock sound?”

 

“Seven sounds fine,” Jack nodded, feeling the slightest bit of relief that this wasn’t a joke.  Or if it was a joke, it hadn’t sprung on him yet.

 

“Okay,” Jamie agreed.  “Tell you what, why don’t you go take the rest of the day off to get ready.”

 

“Seriously?” Jack asked.  It wasn’t even lunch yet.

 

“If you get the promotion,” Jamie started twirling a strand of her hair around her index finger, “you can make it up to me.”

“Oh,” Jack said, still nervous and confused.  Was she flirting with him?  Was this innuendo?  Was he reading too much into this?  He stood there, dumbly.

 

“Bye bye, big boy” Jamie waved him off, “I’ve got things to take care of in the meantime.” She turned back around and leaned over Shelly’s desk, ignoring him.   Jack took the hint and left, but not before sneaking one last peek at her pink panties.

 

 

Jamie waited till Jack left the room, his footsteps fading into echoes, and then into nothingness.

“I think he likes me,” Jamie said to Shelly.

 

“They always like you,” Shelly replied.  “Why the causal girl next door look?  Last year, you went with the super short skirt and your hair in pigtails.  You normally reel them in with something a little…”

 

“Sluttier?” Jamie offered.  Shelly shrugged and offered a nod.

 

“Just establishing a baseline,” Jamie explained to perhaps her one confidant. “How is he?”

 

“I can’t quite get a bead on him,” Shelly admitted.  “At first I thought he was completely milquetoast.  Then he threw up some trivia about training pants.  Who else but one of us would know about that kind of thing?”

 

“You don’t think he’s a fetishist, do you?”  Jamie asked.  “It’s no fun if they already want it at first.  If there’s no struggle, there’s no fun.  Ooooh,” Jamie mused to herself, “maybe he’s a Daddy.  I’ve never diapered a Daddy before.”

 

“It’s like I’ve already told you,” Shelly looked up at her employer from her desk.  “Everyone’s a fetishist.  It’s just a matter of finding out what your fetish is.  But if you’re asking if he’s active on the scene, no, I’ve never seen him.”

 

“You think he’s consciously aware of it himself?  Maybe he’s repressing?”  Jamie asked.

 

“Hard to say,” Shelly replied.  “Normally if this kind of stuff pushes their buttons and they’re repressing it, they blush a little more. If he was trying to hide or deny something I doubt he’d have offered up the diaper trivia.”

 

“So how much of a challenge do you think it’ll be?”  Jamie asked.

 

“Is it really a challenge for you?” Shelly countered.  “You and that box of pills you always carry around.”

 

“Physically?” Jamie said,  “No.  But it’s not about the physicality.  Not for me.”

 

“What is it about?” Shelly asked.

 

“It’s…” Jamie stopped and shook her head.  “Complicated.  You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“What I do understand,” Shelly offered, “is that there are easier ways to treat a grown man like a baby.  I know plenty who you wouldn’t have to drug in order to do it.  A few of the dumber ones might even welcome the little mickey you give to them at the end.”

 

“Any of them named Jack?” Jamie asked.  “Jim maybe?”

 

“Not that I’m aware of…” Shelly shook her head.

 

“Then I’ll take my chances of breaking this one in,” Jamie said.

Date Night

 

“Welcome to Chili’s,” the hostess said as Jack walked through the double doors.  “Would you happen to be Jack Grainger?”  She smiled politely, vacantly, and expectantly.

 

Jack looked around.  Other than the hostess, a waiter, a guy at the bar and hopefully some cooks in the back, the place was completely deserted.  Who ever heard of an empty Chili’s, at seven o’clock no less?

 

“Um…” Jack craned his neck, looking around.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah.”

 

“Can I see some I.D., please?” the hostess asked.  Jack dug into his pocket and flipped his wallet open, showing her the driver’s license picture from when he had had that terrible haircut.

 

“Follow me,” she said, before grabbing a menu and leading Jack toward the back of the place.  Jack looked around on his way to the table.   Even though it was pleasant enough inside the Chili’s, there was something unnerving about the sheer lack of people.  The bric-a-brac on the wall, designed to gives patrons a quick chuckle and then be ultimately forgotten, seemed to be staring at him.

 

“Robert will be your server tonight,” the hostess said as if nothing was the slightest bit out of the ordinary.  “He’ll be with you shortly.”

 

“Excuse me,” Jack tried to say.  But the woman was already leaving and couldn’t be bothered to look back around as Jack raised his right index finger in question.  What the hell was going on here?

 

The click-click-click of high heels caught Jack’s attention.  Walking in from the back was the woman he had run into this morning, or at least he thought it was her.  Earlier this morning, Jamie Vasquez, founder and President of Infinitech, had seemed beautiful but socially unremarkable.  She had dressed in casual t-shirts, and jeans while walking about the H.R. department of her own company as if she had been going shopping for groceries.

It wasn’t that unusual, Jack supposed. Plenty of young and wealthy people dressed casually.  Besides, it was her building; she could wear what she wanted.

 

But the contrast of then compared to now- with her face and hair all dolled up, and in a tight strapless dress that left little to the imagination- was just astonishing. It made Jack’s polo shirt and slacks, clean pressed though they were, seem absolutely pedestrian by comparison.

 

She slid into the seat opposite of him and smiled.  “Glad you could make it,” she said.

 

“I’m sorry,  Miss Vasquez,” Jack blushed, looking embarrassed.  “I thought this was supposed to be casual.”

 

“I believe I said ‘relaxed’,” Jamie corrected him. “And please, call me Jamie.”  This was relaxed?  She looked like Jessica Rabbit, the restaurant was almost completely deserted, and she was looking at him as if he was a piece of meat.  Jack was more nervous than he could ever remember being in his life.  His brain was reminding him that this was still a job interview, his penis was telling him this was a completely different kind of interview, and his eyes were playing ping pong between her face and her cleavage.

 

“So…” Jamie smiled a thin smile and leaned in, “…relaxed?”

 

“Curious, actually,”  Jack rasped out, his throat unexpectedly dry.  “Why-?”

 

“Just a second,” Jamie held up an index finger as the waiter approached.

 

“Good evening folks, can I get you anything to drink before we get started?”

 

“I’ll have a glass of Shiraz, he’ll have a….” Jamie paused to look at Jack and pursed her lips.  “he’ll have a Long Island Iced Tea.”

 

Jack didn’t dare interrupt her.  Apparently, he was having a Long Island Iced Tea.

 

“So, slow night, huh?”  Jack looked around the vacant restaurant, craning his neck to see if he could even estimate the people present at over half-a-dozen.

 

“Not really,” Jamie said, “I just reserved the whole building for a special, private function.”

“You can do that?”  Jack asked, his eyes getting wide.

 

“I should be able too,” Jamie smirked.  “I’m the owner.”

 

“Oooh,” Jack nodded, finally getting the picture.  “That’s why you wanted to come here, you already owned it.”

 

“Pffft,” Jamie scoffed, “Nah, I just bought it after we made the plans this afternoon.”

 

“You have that kind of money?” Jack’s jaw almost went to the counter top.

 

“I have that kind of money,” Jamie repeated, seeming somehow both nonchalant and proud of it.

 

“You bought out the entire Chili’s franchise?” Jack asked, awestruck.

 

“No you idiot,” Jamie stifled a laugh. “I just bought this Chili’s.  Buying the entire franchise would be costly, time consuming and too much hassle for me to waste my time.”  Jack blushed, feeling stupid.  How was he supposed to know what she was spending ungodly amounts of money on? Normal people certainly didn’t buy restaurants to guarantee private dinner interviews; who was to say that buying an entire company was out of the realm of possibility for her?

 

Still, the way she called him an “idiot” wasn’t entirely insulting, in tone at least.  She kind of giggled as she said it, in fact.  Almost like it was a pet name.

 

“So,” Jack said after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, “about the interview-”

 

“Not yet,” Jamie cut him off as the drinks arrived.  “Drinks first.  Then dinner.  Then the interview.  I find that people tend to be more honest and more themselves when they’ve got a full stomach and a few drinks in them.”  She sipped her wine, and then gestured to the two Long Island Iced Teas that were now sitting in front of him.  “Looks like it’s happy hour,” she said.

 

“Let’s get down to brass tacks,” Jamie said about a half hour into dinner.  Jack looked up from his enormous half eaten burger to across the table where his boss sat.  She had finished picking at her chicken Caesar salad and was now sipping her glass of wine while Jack shamelessly bit into the ground beef, melted cheese and two slices of bacon between a pretzel bun.  Ketchup, mayonnaise and hot grease dribbled from Jack’s lips as he chewed.

 

Apparently, two long islands didn’t do much for table manners but was great for self-esteem.  Jack was bullet proof right now.  He felt as if he could answer any question completely candidly and without hesitation, which- the tiny part of his brain that was sober enough to realize he was drunk supposed- was exactly what his eccentric billionaire boss wanted from him.

“Sure,” Jack shamelessly wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

 

“You realize that there’s a napkin right in front of you?” Jamie asked, pointing to the thin white paper lying delicately besides the mammoth plate the bacon cheeseburger had arrived on.

 

“Yeah,” Jack let out a belch.  “But this is closer,” he pointed to his sleeve.

 

“Heh,” she tittered.  “Looks like we might need to get you a bib.”  They both laughed at that, though Jack wasn’t entirely sure why.   Was she… was she flirting with him? Holy shit, maybe it was the booze goggles, but she really looked like she was flirting with him.  Jack felt blood rushing to his face, and to one other very sensitive area.

 

“So,” Jamie took a sip of wine.  “What’s your favorite color?”

 

“Blue,” Jack answered.  “Though I like green too.  Sometimes red.”

 

“Good,” Jamie smiled.  “And what about your mother?”

 

“My mom?” Jack asked, shaking the cobwebs from his brain to make sure he had heard her right.

 

“Yes,” Jamie confirmed calmly enough.  “Tell me about your mother.”

 

“I mean, she’s nice,” Jack said.  “I love her.”

 

“Are you particularly close?”  Jamie asked.

 

“Ohyah,” Jack slurred.  “Total momma’s boy.”

 

“Did she have any pet names for you?”  Jamie asked.

 

Then, finally, a thought poked its way through all the drunken horniness that was holding Jack hostage.

 

“Is this part of the interview?” Jack asked.

 

“Of course it is,” Jamie nodded.

 

“Uhhh…” Jack stared hard at the beautiful woman. “What exactly is the position I’m interviewing for?”

 

“Oh?” Jamie looked curious, but not surprised, “You mean Shelly didn’t tell you?”  Jack just shook his head.

 

“Product tester,” she said.

 

“Product tester?” Jack repeated.  “You mean you want me to be some kind of guinea pig?”  Jack’s face couldn’t be any longer than it suddenly was.  Was that all he was good for in the eyes of the company?  Some lab rat to stick with drugs or put in crash tests, or whatever Infinitech wanted human test subjects for?   If Jack had been a crier, he might’ve done so right then.

 

Jamie must have seen the look on Jack’s face.

 

“Oh sweetie,” Jamie clicked her tongue.  “It’s not like that.”

 

“It isn’t?”  Jack reached for the burger on his plate.  Better to be chewing and swallowing than to be on the verge of sobbing.

 

“No, honey,” Jamie said.  “Not at all.”  Jack felt the pity radiating off the young woman.  She looked like she felt sorry for him.  A dinner interview that might have turned into a date was quickly becoming a massive pity party with Jack as the guest of honor.

 

“All the tests on whether or not the products work will have already been done by the time they get to you.” Jamie explained.  “We have mice, monkeys, and death row murderers for all that stuff.”

Jack tore into another bite of burger and swallowed hard.

 

“Then what do you want me for?” he asked.

 

“Advertising.” Jamie said.  “Sales.”

 

“But I’m already…” Jack tilted his head to the side in drunken confusion.

 

“Right now you try to convince retailers to pick up our products,” Jamie told him.  “You read from a little card that tells you the benefits of the product and why consumers would want them.”  Jack had never actually bothered to use those little cards in his sales pitches, but he decided not to correct his boss on that.

 

“Uh-huh,” was all he said.

 

“I want to hire you to write those little cards.  I want you to use our newest products” Jamie said, “and from your own experiences use them to help us write the advertising and sales pitches.  You’d be like a one-man focus group.”

 

“Why me?” Jack wondered aloud.

 

“Because according to all our data, you’d be perfect for the job.”  Jamie said.  “You’re smart but you don’t put on airs.” That was true.  “You’ve got a good vocabulary and knowledge base but can still speak in terms that everyone can understand and appreciate.”  That was true too, he supposed.  “Your feedback on any number of things would help us shape marketing and company policy.  You would be invaluable to the company.”  Jack’s long face turned back into a big, drunk, confident grin.

 

“That,” Jamie paused.  “And I think you’re cute.”  Jack nearly fainted. She. Thought. He. Was. Cute.  He could work with that.  He could definitely work with that.

 

“So,” Jamie smiled.  “How about we finish our dinner, I’ll have my driver take you home, and we can sign the paperwork tomorrow?”

 

“Okay,” Jack nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Any questions?”

 

“Just one,” Jack said.  “Are you Spanish?  I thought Vasquez was a Spanish name.  But you don’t look that Spanish.”

Jamie busted out laughing at that one, clearly caught off guard.  “Not where I’m from,” she said.  “Not where I’m from.”

 

Jack was about to ask her to elaborate when he felt the rush of a near to bursting bladder as the alcohol crashed through his system.

 

“’Scuse me,” he said as he slid out of the booth, rushing for the bathroom.  “Be right back.”

 

“Take your time,” Jamie waved him off while she reached for the little pill filled case she kept hidden on her person at all times.

************************************************************************************

Jamie smiled with satisfaction as she watched the little pill fizzle in Jack’s water.  Briefly, she wondered if Jack was taking some form of enjoyment out of relieving himself outside of his pants.  If she got her way, it’d be the last time he’d be able to, ever again.

 

Jack stumbled out of the bathroom, the sound of a flushing toilet thundering behind him.  He likely didn’t even take the time to wash his hands.  Not that he’d need to worry about that sort of thing very shortly.  If anything it just confirmed Jamie’s suspicions that he was another man-child that needed caring for; a service she’d gladly provide…at least until she got bored.

 

“Here,” Jamie slid the glass of water to him.  “Drink up.”

 

“Huh?” he stared at the water.  “How about another drink, instead?  I got the job, didn’t I?”

 

“And you still have work tomorrow, sweetie,” she told him.  “I don’t want you showing up hung over.  So drink some water and I’ll order you a mudslide for dessert.

 

Jack looked down stupidly at the water.  “Yes ma’am,” he said before chugging it back.  Jamie couldn’t help but grin at that.  Step one completed.

 

And so the night meandered on.  She got her new “Product tester” a dessert drink, got his home address from his personnel file, sent him home with her driver while arranging for his car to be moved back home with him.  Fairly standard pre-gaming as far as she was concern.

 

Then, on her way home, she took out the little compact device and punched some more symbols and figures into it, while cross referencing Jack’s Facebook feed and email that her hackers had managed to delve into during the dinner and what the personnel file already told her.  The calculations came back.

 

A pleasant little ding sounded, and Jamie frowned.  Really?  That high?  Granted, Jamie hadn’t been lying when she said he was cute, and he fit a lot of the statistical and probability data…but really?

 

Jamie pursed her lips and put some more symbols into the device that fit neatly into the palm of her hand.  Maybe some of her peers could help.

 

Jamie looked at the displays, calculations, and updates in the little circle and frowned.

 

Most like her were still looking, but there were far fewer than this time last year when she had last checked.  There were fewer all the time.  They were either succeeding…or not.  And the rate of success was not in their favor, statistically speaking.

 

A few were reporting success and that they now had their own diapered man-babies just the way they wanted them and that they were completely safe and satisfied.  Good for them.  Hopefully she would join their number soon enough.

 

An alarming number had dropped off the grid entirely, likely indicating failure. One of them had decided to get married and they had just found a perfect house for them and their spouse.  That was likely a mistake.

 

Another one’s last update was that they were attending a baby shower for a friend.  That broke a cardinal rule, Jamie thought.

Never involve yourself with baby stuff unless you are the one in control.

If that other girl had gone to be a guest at a baby shower, she very likely had turned guest of honor and was now peeing in her pants every day, assuming she was allowed to wear pants.   Being a guest at a baby shower never ended well for people like her.  Neither was touring some “Nursery of the Future”.  Read the signs people, sheesh.

 

There were a lot of variables, to be sure.  Being able to calculate those variables had led Jamie to rise to the top like she had.  She made sure that she was the one doing the diapering, instead of being diapered.  But from the comments and calculations though, Jamie knew deep in the pit of her stomach one thing was for sure:

 

She was running out of time…

 

 

*************************************************************************************

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

 

“And he hit the Jack Attack!” Jim Ross shouted into the headset.  “Jack Attack!  Jack Attack!  Jack Attack!  Cena is down, staring up at the lights.  Will he kick out?  One….two…three!  And we have a new world champion!”

 

The crowd at Madison Square Garden leapt to their feet while the referee raised his hand in the air and handed him the Championship Belt.  His entrance music blared over the speakers in celebration!  Jack had finally done it.  He had climbed to the top and won the Championship; at Wrestlemania, no less!

 

He panted, tired with exhaustion after a full hour of wrestling.  The real champ had arrived, and it was Jack.  While the streamers and the balloons came down from the ceiling, Jack climbed up to the middle turnbuckle, and lifted his prize high to the adoration of the thousands in attendance and the millions watching at home.

 

His body, feeling like it could finally rest, ached and dripped with his manly, musky, foul smelling sweat.  It poured down his face, streaming down his back.  It even pooled in the inside of his tights and ran down his legs.

 

And it wasn’t until he felt the trickling stream meander along the inside of his thighs and drip down his boots that he looked down at the yellow puddle developing on the mat beneath him and realized that it wasn’t entirely sweat dripping from him.

 

His hands shot down to his crotch, his fumbling, clumsy fingers dropping the World Heavyweight Title down onto the floor.  Jack lost his balance, falling off the turnbuckle and bouncing into the ring.  His ears rang out with the sound of his crash back onto the mat, and then tuned into something worse:

 

Laughter.  The laughter of thousands of people in the audience watching him wallow around in his own piss.  Vince would fire him for sure.  His own high energy, hard rock, guitar music had been replaced, or was it transformed into the steady slow, soothing, tinkling chimes of a baby’s mobile.  Tinkling, a poor choice of adjectives if there ever was one.

 

Jack scrambled, unsuccessfully, to do something- anything- about his wet tights.  Yank them off, cover himself up, clamp down on his offending organ.  All of it were in vain.  He opened his mouth to call out for help, but only a garbled “Maaaaaah!” came out. Embarrassing coos and “awws” mingled in with the sounds of laughter and “The Wheels On the Bus”.  Yup, he was fired.  No way was he going to recover from this.

 

“Oh, poor sweetie,” a strange voice said.  “Did Mommy’s widdle baby have an accident?”

 

Jack, stuck on his back like a turtle craned his neck and looked around for the source of the saccharine sweet voice.  A woman, or rather the silhouette of one filled his vision as he stared up at the lights.  Where the fuck was Cena?  The ref?  Shouldn’t EMTs or something be coming?  Why were the lights still on?  The least they could do is cut the camera feed.  Jack prayed that the cameras weren’t still rolling.

 

While Jack was thinking all of this, a slender feminine hand reached down and grabbed at his drenched crotch and squeezed him through his wrestling trunks.

“Oh no wonder you had an accident,” the oddly familiar voice chided, “you’re not wearing your diaper.  Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby wears his diaper.”

 

Jack lay there, helplessly, unable to even scream out while the woman shaped shadow-still blurred by the lights and Jack’s own unstable vision- started to unlace his boots and slip them off his feet.

 

“First your widdle booties,” the voice cut through the laughter, jeering, and mocking cooing of the fans.  “Then your widdle panties.”

 

“No!”   Jack managed to will himself to scream out as two hands began to tug at the waistband of his tights. He reached down with his powerful arms, resisting with all his might.

 

“Now, now, now, don’t be a bad widdle baby,” the woman’s voice tisked.  “Not when we’re recording.”
Jack’s gaze drifted behind him and he saw that the Titan-Tron, the jumbo screen that played the entrance videos and broadcast the match to the fans in the cheap seats.  He saw a close up of himself, on his back his snow white tights stained yellow, lying on the mat as two strange hands tugged to pull his pants off him.  And for the first time since he could remember, he saw himself, he really saw himself.

 

He wasn’t a wrestler.  Gone were the slick, oiled, muscular physique that he had imagined on himself.  All that was left was himself; skinny, slender, unremarkable Jack.  Jack, in his shock, loosened his grip and saw the hands give a final jerk on his pants and saw his own dick projected on the big screen.

 

Now the laughter as the woman in the ring-”Mommy” he wanted to call her-shimmied Jack’s pants down past his ankles doubled in volume and was only pierced by a chorus of “Awwwwwwws” akin to when sorority girls see baby pictures.  Within two seconds he was completely naked.

 

“Oh my,” the strange “Mommy” said.  “You weren’t even wearing big boy pants.  No wonder you leaked so much.”  Jack saw the shadowy figure reach behind her back and produce a purse of some kind.  She reached into the purse and took out a packet of what looked like tissues or wet wipes.

 

“Let’s get my widdle baby cweaned up,” she said as she took a wet wipe from the packet and started reaching down towards Jack.  It didn’t take Jack more than a second to realize that those wipes weren’t traveling to his face.  And it only took a second after that to figure out that while they were wipes, and they were likely wet, they weren’t properly called “wet wipes.”

 

Jack tried to sit up; he tried to run away, or roll, or something. But it was as if the mat was a magnet and his flesh metal.  He couldn’t have moved if he had wanted to, and as the wet wipes began to rub against his cock and balls in the middle of Madison Square Garden, he really wanted to.

 

Whatever mechanism or injury that was holding him in place was doing nothing to limit his captor.  Jack found his legs being lifted up and bunched up to his stomach while this shadowy figure reached for more wipes and began bathing down his thighs, then his buttocks, then his asshole.  Jack’s only option was to grin and bear it, but he couldn’t even bring himself to grin.

 

“Diaper time,” Jack heard as the woman reached into the bag yet again and took out the biggest diaper Jack had ever seen.  And it wasn’t an adult diaper either. Cookie Monster, Oscar, and Big Bird all stared out at Jack, smiling at him as though they were happy to see him, bare ass naked and wiped clean.

 

Jack could only watch and listen as the diaper was unfolded and slid underneath him, somehow the crinkling of the diaper cutting through the white noise of the crowd and the blaring nursery rhyme music.

 

“Almost done, ‘tinky boy” the woman assured him as she reached into the purse-the diaper bag actually- and took out a bottle of baby powder.  A cloud of the sweet smelling stuff soon coated Jack from his ass crack to his belly button, and a soft yet firm hand started rubbing it in.  Jack couldn’t help but get hard.  “Dawww,” the woman cooed, “him likes, doesn’t he?  Yes he does!  Yes he does!”  The women in the audience seemed to echo the sentiment.  The men just kept laughing.

 

Jack was close to tears as the diaper was drawn up between his legs, the thickness of the padding bowing his legs out a bit.   The little yellow tabs on the diaper were quickly pulled across the Sesame Street characters’ faces, with only Oscar still visible, still smiling up at him from his own waist.

 

Jack almost heard Oscar’s gruff voice whispering into him: “Get used to this, bub…this is life now.  At least you’re not the one getting peed on.”  Jack silently prayed that he wouldn’t have to actually use this diaper, but a tiny part of him was at least glad his crotch was covered.

 

“Now let’s get Mommy’s widdle baby home.”  With Herculean strength, Jack felt himself deadlifted into the woman’s arms.  His legs wrapped around her waist while one of her hands supported his padded rump and the other one rubbed his back.  “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear.  “It’s okay.  Mommy’s got you.  Mommy’s got you.”

“Say bye-bye, to everyone, baby Jack.”  Mommy whispered and then turned around waved to the faceless masses. “Wave bye-bye.”  Jack caught another glimpse of himself in the Titan-Tron.  And even though he couldn’t make out the woman’s face, he clearly saw himself, sitting in her arms, wearing nothing but a diaper.  He wasn’t a wrestler now.  This wasn’t his dream come true.  He was just a baby.  With no other choice, Jack did the only thing he could:  He waved bye-bye.

Mommy navigated the ropes relatively easily.  Clinging to her torso, Jack only briefly saw the underside of the top rope, before they were going down the steel steps and off the ring apron.  Somehow dwarfed in her shadow, Jack found himself being deposited into an umbrella stroller.

 

“Such a good baby,” Jack heard as his arms were guided through the straps and buckled in.  The woman disappeared behind him and the stroller began being pushed up the ramp and to the backstage area.    Jack did not want to be in the backstage area where all of his childhood, tough guy heroes would surely be, ready to mock and laugh at him.  Or worse yet, maybe they wouldn’t?  Mocking only applied if you were some tough guy alpha who needed to be taken down.  You mocked equals and superiors and little shits that didn’t know their place.  Maybe they’d see him as just a baby; a little tyke in Pampers.  Maybe he wasn’t worth the effort it would take to make fun of his current predicament.  Maybe they’d just feel sorry for him.

 

As the stroller continued to roll up the ramp, Jack looked up and saw himself again on the giant projection screen.  How the hell did his thumb end up in his mouth?!  Jack couldn’t even remember when he had popped it in.  Then, with perfect visual clarity, Jack gawked in horror as he saw his diapered crotch on the big screen and felt a warmth spread through him again.  The yellow line going down the middle of his diaper was changing color, turning a cool light blue.  It started near the middle-front of his diaper and spread up wards and downwards along with the warmth.

 

He was peeing!  Why was he still peeing? Hadn’t he peed everything out already into his tights?  Now he was wetting his diaper already?  Two year olds had more bladder control that he was displaying!  Jack moaned and whined as his diaper absorbed the wetness and he was wheeled backstage.

 

The roar of the crowd behind him became muted behind thick walls of concrete in the stadium.     Before he could be wheeled into the locker room proper, however, the stroller came to a stop.  The strange, somehow still little more than a silhouette woman-  “Mommy” – walked around into Jack’s view and took a knee.

 

Her head jerked down towards his padded crotch and a slender finger traced the blue line running up and down the middle.

 

“Awwww,” Mommy cooed at Jack while squeezing- massaging really- the front of his diaper.  She took a knee so that she could be closer to eye level with him.

 

“Did baby already pee-pee?  You must be all empty, now,” she said, opening her shirt to reveal a nursing bra.  “Time to fill you up.”

 

Even though the rest of her was encased in shadow, there was no mistaking the inviting, brown nipple, dripping with milk as the woman Jack could only think of as “Mommy” leaned into the stroller.  Like an animal going in for the kill, or a drug addict taking that first hit, Jack’s mouth opened and his lips puckered, eager despite himself to get a taste…

*************************************************************************************

 

Jack woke up feeling very disturbed.  He had been having his favorite dream, when all of a sudden it had taken a decidedly weird and uninvited twist.   Where the hell had that come from?  He rolled out of bed, his bladder aching yet again, and stepped to the bathroom.

 

“Shit,” he muttered to himself groggily realizing that he had a major erection right now.  He really hoped it wasn’t from the dream.  Ew…if that shit turned him on…really?  Nah, he forced the idea out of his head.  He just really had to pee, was all.

 

Jack dropped his pajama bottoms down to his ankles, pushed his dick downward as much as he could, and jutted his hips out to get that last few crucial degrees so he was aiming mostly at the toilet bowl in front of him.

 

The stream of urine that came out was messy and forked, leaving sprinkles on the rim that Jack would inevitably have to clean up in the morning when he actually woke up.  Dicks did weird things when they were confused between peeing and cumming, and Jack’s was no different.  As the stream died down to those final few trickles and Jack’s member began to deflate to a more malleable state, he breathed a huge sigh of relief.  But as he pulled his pajama bottoms up, even through his blurry not-quite-awake field of vision he could tell something was different.

 

There was the slightest, off color stain right around the crotch of his pants as if some kind of fluid had leaked out.  It had been a long while since Jack had had to deal with this sort of thing, but memories of early puberty had never left him.  That wasn’t just a regular dream he’d had, it had been a wet one.

 

Disgusting.

 

There must have been a different, sexier dream that Jack had been having before the one that forced him awake.  That was the only logical explanation.  There had been nothing in the previous dream that could possibly arouse him in such a manner.

 

Not the embarrassment of pissing his pants in public.

 

Not the beautiful woman whom he’d called “Mommy” stripping him down till he was completely naked.

 

Not the moist wipes being gently dragged across his crotch, or the sweet smelling baby powder.

 

Certainly not the big thick diaper as it was slid under his bum and pulled up between his legs, robbing him of any illusion of his autonomy, his agency, and his manhood.

 

Nor the nipple that was being shoved in his face, begging to be sucked on.

Jack felt himself becoming rigid again at the memory and gasped in disgust at himself.

 

Oh god…what the fuck was happening to him?  Jack quickly retreated back into his bed, begging for sleep.

 

First day on the job.

 

“Morning!” Jack smiled as he strutted into work the next day.

 

“Jack,” Rick said, waving to his co-worker.  “Welcome back.  Was worried about you when you left for that interview.  Thought you’d been fired, bro.”

 

“Exact opposite,” Jack replied with a heaping helping of swagger in his step, still on his way to the elevators.

 

“Hey where you goin’?”  Rick called after him.

 

“Got some papers to sign!”  Jack rang out, not even looking back.  “First day of my new job!”

Jack did a victory jog into the elevator and pushed the button, ascending.  He hummed tunelessly to himself, his pulse pounding with excitement.  Of course, had he been listening to himself hum, he might realize that what he was humming sounded suspiciously like “Wheels on the Bus”.

 

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open into the HR department.

 

“Shelly?” Jack called out as he took a quick right into the little room, barely a cubicle where he had interviewed not twenty-four hours ago.  To Jack’s confusion, the lights were off and the room was empty.  Stranger yet, the entire floor was covered in plastic.

 

“Oh, she’s not here,” a much younger woman’s voice caught Jack’s attention.  Jack turned around.  He knew that voice!

 

“Mo-?” Jack gasped and then stopped himself.  “Miss Vasquez?”

 

“It’s like I told you, Jack,” Jamie smiled. “You don’t have to call me that.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked.

 

“I’m here to finish the paperwork with you to get you started in your new role today,”  she held the folder to her chest the same way a little girl might cuddle a teddy bear.

 

“But…Shelly…I thought…” Jack stammered.

 

“Shelly’s more of a temp.  She’s a specialist and an old friend,” Jamie replied.  “You passed her test, which is why we had dinner.  And then you passed mine.  Which brings us to…” she laid down the papers on Shelly’s empty desk.

 

“Just sign these, and everything about your new position will be in order,” she said.

 

Whether it was a matter of sleep deprivation from the nightmare, arrogance, or just good old-fashioned thinking with his cock, Jack signed the papers where Jamie pointed in the highlighted areas of the contract without reading a single word beyond “Signature” and “Date.”

 

“So,” Jack asked.  “Is that it?”

 

“Not quite,” Jamie said, carefully taking the stack of papers and putting them out of Jack’s immediate reach on a nearby shelf away from the empty desk.  “There’s still the matter of your uniform.”

 

“Uniform?”  Jack asked.  “We didn’t talk about a uniform last night.”

 

“You’ll love it, I promise,” his boss, eyes glinting mischievously replied.  “I’ve got it right here under Shelly’s desk.”
Jamie walked around Jack, giving him a slight tickle under his chin with her index finger before bending over so that Jack could admire her ass. Holy shit, was he about to be some kind of pool boy or sex toy or something?  He sincerely hoped so.

 

“Um…”Jack looked down at the floor, “what’s with all the plastic.”   He had his hands over his now massively bulging boner and was trying to do his best not to embarrass himself in front of this insanely hot, insanely powerful, and insanely rich woman.

 

“Helps keep the mess contained,” Jamie said as she stood back up with a large bulky purse.  Jack shifted his hands away from the tent in his pants.

 

“Whuh…whuh…what mess?”  Jack asked, licking his lips.

 

Jamie leaned in and said in the sultry, seductive tone that Jack had been fantasizing about the exact words that he had been dreading in his nightmares.

 

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby wears his diaper.”

 

Like a trained dog, Jack’s bladder practically erupted, sending out urine flooding into his khakis, soon making a puddle beneath him on the plastic coated carpet.  It was the dream! It was just like the dream!  Jack’s lip quivered and his legs, now soaking wet, started to tremble.  Jamie guided him down as he started to mumble and mewl and cry.

 

“Awwww,” Jamie grinned almost maliciously.  “Did Mommy’s widdle baby have an accident?”  She began pushing Jack down, and like a doll, his body obeyed.  Just like in his dream, his shoes and pants were stripped in rapid fashion.  Life was imitating misshapen fantasy.

 

“Let’s get my widdle baby cweaned up,” Jamie said as she reached into the purse- no, the diaper bag,- and produced a packet of baby wipes.  Déjà vu.

 

Jack wasn’t surprised when he found the beautiful woman, wiping his crotch and buttocks.  He wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t make himself move or resist beyond some minor squirming and whimpering.  For some reason, he wasn’t even surprised when she withdrew a giant diaper, complete with Cookie Monster, Oscar, and Big Bird on the front.  He wasn’t surprised when he was powdered from butt crack to belly button and his legs forced apart by the bulk of the infantile underwear.  Horrified?  Stupefied?  Humiliated?  More than slightly aroused?  Yes to all of those.  But surprised?  No.

 

Finished diapering him, Jamie ripped off the nice white button up shirt that Jack had worn, stripping him down to just the gigantic diaper.

Jack was only able to find one word.  “Why?”

Jamie replied, but she didn’t exactly answer Jack’s question:

 

“It’s your new job, sweetie.  We’re going to have a good time, baby boy,” she smiled.  “A real good time.”

Beginning Orientation

 

Jack was near the point of tears when he was strapped into the giant umbrella stroller.  Whether Jack was unable to resist Jamie pulling him into the standing position, leading him by the hand out of the piss-covered room and then guiding him down into the stroller parked just outside the HR office, or whether he was just too emotionally and mentally overwhelmed to think about resisting, who can say?  The point was this: Jack didn’t resist as he was maneuvered into the stroller and rolled back into the elevator.

 

Jamie, gently rocking Jack’s stroller, quietly hummed to herself.  It didn’t take Jack long to realize that she was humming “The Wheels on the Bus.”  Why was she humming that song? Jack was trembling as the elevator dinged and the doors slid back open.

 

The doors slid open to a new terror,  a new humiliation:  Women.  Dozens of them, all in proper business attire, most of them under fifty, all of them pretty.   They seemed vaguely familiar to him, like he had seen them around the building, but none of them had ever made a particularly meaningful connection with him.  Then he caught sight of Shelly.

So that’s where all the women from the HR department had gone.  They knew what Jack had been walking into.  They had likely laid the plastic tarps over the carpet themselves.

 

They stood clustered in front of the large oak double doors, shouting “Congratulations!” and clapping.  Jack heard the high pitched buzzing of noisemakers and kazoos.  Jack’s eyes traveled towards the ceiling, where there was a banner hanging right above the doors.

 

“WELCOME, BABY JACK”, it read in block pastel baby blue letters.

“Oh ladies!” Jamie fake-gushed from behind the stroller.  “Oh, you shouldn’t have! What a surprise!”  Every word out of Jamie’s mouth was tinged with insincerity and false modesty.  The only person this was meant to surprise was Jack.

 

When the clapping had died down, the women parted, making way for the queen of Infinitech.  Jack felt the stroller lurch into motion down the aisle as rows and rows of beautiful women gawked and gaped at him in his humiliating and infantile state.  All eyes were on him.

 

They cooed.  They giggled.  Some pinched his cheeks and told him how cute he was.  A few were bold enough to reach in tickle his stomach in an attempt to get him to laugh.  The stroller inched towards the door at a deliberate and agonizingly slow pace.  This was all on purpose.  This was all for Jack’s “benefit”.  And for some reason, it was all painfully familiar.

 

Maybe that meant, Jack hoped, that this was just another dream.  Maybe any minute now he’d wake up in bed, his alarm clock blaring so that he could go to work and start his real job as a product tester.

 

“D’aww, he’s such a shy boy,” he heard one woman comment as he looked down and away into his lap. It was the only way he could bear to involve himself. It was while he was staring that the little yellow line running from Oscar the Grouch on his waistline down the middle to the crack of his ass started turning a cool blue right before his eyes.

 

Oh God, why was he still peeing?!  Hadn’t he completely emptied his bladder the first time?  The fact that there was a first time was bad enough.  Utterly baffled at the warm wet sensation that was beginning to swell around his waist, Jack forgot his surroundings and gingerly poked at the blue line, feeling the heat coming off of it and the crisp crinkle of the diaper rapidly transforming into a wet squish.

“Oh, looks like someone noticed they had an accident,” one of the ladies said.   “Maybe he’ll be ready for Pull-Ups soon.”  The laughter that followed that comment was downright hysterical, as if the ultimate inside joke had been told.

 

“I don’t think so,” he heard Jamie chuckle.  “I put them in the Swaddlers at first to help them learn that they’re widdle pants piddling babies.  Seeing is believing.  Once they accept that, I switch them to Cruisers or Baby-Dry, something more absorbent.”  Jack looked up at all the women nodding as if Jamie had given some sage advice.

Them?  So he wasn’t the only person?  Were there others behind those doors, also in diapers like him?  Was he being kidnapped into some bizarre male harem crèche? The fuck had just happened to his life?

 

“Now, if you excuse us,” Jamie said, interrupting Jack’s racing train of thought.  “My widdle baby and I need to get better acquainted.”  There were more giggles from the women surrounding them.  They started shuffling out of view and Jack heard the sound of elevator doors opening behind him.  Shelly stayed behind long enough to open one of the big solid oak doors. She smiled and gave Jack a little wink as he rolled by.

Jack could only grit his teeth, bite his tongue, and try not to cry as he was wheeled into Jamie’s private office.

 

*********************************************************************************

“Nanny,” Jamie called out as she wheeled her new plaything into her office, stopping only to close the heavy oak doors behind her.

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ?” the automaton buzzed out as it approached.

 

“Put the baby in his highchair,” she instructed it.  “Get him a bib, too,” she added.

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ,” Nanny replied.

 

“The hell is this?!”  Jack yelped as the walking mannequin unbuckled him from the stroller and picked him up as easily as if he were a real infant.

Jamie always loved the initial reaction her new babies had to her robot helper. Nanny was more than an assistant that didn’t have to eat, sleep, or be paid.  She was a status symbol; both of her wealth and resources, and of her very real power over the diapered boys she kept.  If the ease in which she had just transitioned him from working man to literal adult baby didn’t get the message home that they were helpless in her power, the literal physical power of Nanny hammered the point home.  A spanking or enema from Nanny was all that it usually took for most men to decide that maybe being a big boy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Right now, Jack was squirming awkwardly as Nanny walked him over and strapped him into to the adult sized highchair.  He was stuck somewhere between wanting to get free and fearing being dropped on his padded rump.  So like a fussy toddler, Jamie thought to herself.  Soon enough, he wouldn’t even be flinching as Nanny wiped his ass for him.   Nanny was terribly easy to get used to, once you let yourself.

 

“Why are you doing this?!”  Jack blurted out as the tray clicked into place.  Oh, the need to know; always the need to know.   Jamie ignored the comment for the moment.  First things first.

 

Jamie walked to a mini fridge against the wall behind the highchair.  Her “office” with its high ceiling, spacious floor plan, couches, televisions, and of course the specially sized baby furniture, was more akin to a New York luxury apartment with a giant oak desk in the middle than a proper business office; Jamie preferred it that way.

 

However, it was still a little too corporate for Jamie’s liking.  It was a bit too professional.   Within her own building, Jamie was a queen, a goddess.  Why should her throne room conform to anyone else’s expectations but hers?  Being able to not conform to others’ expectations and get away with it: That was a true sign of power.

 

Maybe she should get a kitchenette area installed.  She could hire lots of big, strong, manly alpha male types to install it for her.  She could have Jack, clad in nothing but a bonnet and diaper, watch them while they worked with nothing to do but sit on the floor and play with the toys she’d provide.  Of course whatever company she hired would have to sign a strict non-disclosure agreement, but her man baby didn’t have to know that.

 

She felt a tingle down below at that thought of Jack playing with stuffed animals on a play mat – his diaper swollen and bunched up and the wetness indicator bright blue while a bunch of craftsmen laid out tile and gave him scant glances of curiosity and disgust out of the corner of their eyes.

She dragged herself out of her little fantasy and took out a jar of baby food; at least that’s what the chubby cheeked face on the label said.  In actuality, it was more of a special blend meant to meet an adult’s dietary needs and held fifteen ounces of the green mush instead of the usual four.

 

Jamie unscrewed the lid and set the jar down on top of the tiny fridge while she went and took out the tiny black case where she kept her special pills.  She took the next one out, crushed it in her hand and then sprinkled it into the jar of green not-quite solid food.

 

“The why of it is complicated,” Jamie spoke to Jack as she stirred the pill in, hearing it quietly fizzle and dissolve into the mush.  “That’s a grown-up matter.  All you need to know, baby boy, is that your old life as a grown-up is officially over.”

 

“You can’t do this!” Jack yelled, as Nanny fastened a bib around him.

 

“Actually, I can,” Jamie corrected him.  She walked around, big jar of baby food in a hand.  Wordlessly, Nanny handed her a rubber tipped spoon.

 

“Open wide for num-nums.” she said, dipping the spoon into the jar.  Anger flashed hot in Jack’s eyes.  His arms and shoulders twitched as if he was restraining himself from slapping the spoon right out of her hands.  And the stare he gave!  It was probably meant to be defiant or intimidating, but considering the state he was in, it was just so adorable!  God, how she loved this next part.

 

“Awwww,” Jamie cooed.  “Do I have a fussy widdle man?”  Jack almost snarled at that.

 

Jamie smiled back at him and said “I know you don’t want to eat right now, but Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby eats his num-nums.”  As expected, Jack’s mouth pried itself open, Jack whimpering and chirping like a baby bird.

 

Jamie inched the spoon to Jack’s mouth, and his lips closed over the tip of the spoon.  Mechanically, as if a completely different mind had taken over Jack’s mouth, Jack accepted spoonful after spoonful of the green gooey stuff that vaguely resembled guacamole but probably tasted more like strained peas with a hint of carrots, if the label was to be believed.

 

Jamie marveled at how Jack’s head rigidly twitched between spoonful after spoonful of the stuff, as if his head were caught in vice. His arms, once ready to strike out, hung limply by his side as if they had fallen asleep.

 

Tears started to roll down his cheeks and Jamie had to remind herself that he was going through a phase and he would get used to this in time.  They all went through this phase the first few times, but eventually they got over it.
“All done,” she Jamie said in a sing song manner after the last of the vile looking stuff had been swallowed.

 

“You…you hypnotized me…” Jack said. He was either gasping, fighting back sobs, or both.

“Not quite,” Jamie corrected him.

 

“But…my dreams.” Jack said, as Jamie reached for a packet of wipes nearby.

“Your dreams?” Jamie cocked her head to the side, pretending not to understand what he was referencing; as if what was going on inside his head was an afterthought of hers.  “Hmmm…let me think.”  She took a baby wipe and leaned over to his mouth.  He hadn’t spilled very much, but the constant fidgeting as he fought his own body to turn his head away still made it so there was a little bit of a mess on his lips.

“Oooh,” she said as she needlessly dragged the rag over his entire face.  “Those dreams.”

“Let me guess,” Jamie began, “it was normal, probably even great.  Like a fantasy dream or something.  You’re a rock star or you just won the super bowl, or whatever average people dream about when they think of their wildest dreams come true.”  Jack didn’t nod or shake his head, but the look in his eyes told Jamie that she was close enough.

“And then,” she went on, “you went pee pee in your pants and a Mommy came and put you in a diapee while everybody looked on and laughed and cooed and talked like you were a baby.”  The blood rushing to Jack’s face confirmed it.

“Then you were put in a stroller and wheeled off.” Jamie kept going in a sing song voice.  The color drained almost instantly from Jack’s face.  The level of detail was starting to scare him.  Good.  Time to hammer the point home.

 

“While ‘Wheels on the Bus’ played,” she added. “That about right?”  This time she got a solid nod.

 

“That’s a common side effect,” she sighed.  “The first bit of programming always manifests in your dreams.  You’re getting déjà vu because activating the programming always goes about the same way. It’ll go away in due time, trust me.”

 

“You hypnotized me,” Jack said again.

“No, no, no,”  Jamie shook her head. “Hypnotism is too easy.  And reversible.  I just made sure to give you a little dose of something to help you learn.  Do you know how people learn, Jack?”

 

Jack sat in his highchair, dumbly.  “Study?” he said.  “Hard work?”

 

“Oh honey, not what I mean.” Jamie patted Jack condescendingly on the head.  “I meant from a bio-mechanical perspective.  Y’know,” she added, “real science.”

 

“Umm…” Jack scrunched his eyes closed as if wracking his brain for the final answer on Jeopardy.   “Neurons?”

“Ooooh,” Jamie smirked, actually somewhat impressed.  “Shelly was right.  You do have a bit of a brain.  Did you take a basic psychology class and store that away for now?”

 

Jack gave no response to that.  The way his lip curled ever so slightly broadcast to Jamie that he was offended and was holding back.  At least he was smart enough to know who was in control.  That wouldn’t save him from a spanking from Nanny, later, of course.  Every grown baby should experience what would happen if they disobeyed her, at least once.  But that was for later.  Now was time for orientation and laying down the rules.

 

“Yes, baby boy,” Jamie ignored Jack’s near petulance.  “When you do something, or practice something, or read something, or experience something, you’re forming connections in your brain.  You practice that A is A and B is B enough times, your neurons get good at passing that information so that you don’t even have to think about it.”

 

“You practice throwing a ball enough times a certain way,” she went on, “and your neurons form the connection so that soon you throw the ball the same way every time without thinking about it.  And sometimes,” she added for emphasis, “your neurons make connections so that your body acts on its own given certain stimuli without you being consciously aware.

“Classical conditioning,” Jack interrupted, seeming every bit the ridiculous pseudo intellectual, sitting in his high chair and diaper.  He was really in no position to contribute to this conversation.  But he’d figure that out soon enough.

“Last night,” Jamie ignored the interruption, “I slipped a special something into your drink to help with that.  Right now, there are little nanites-tiny microscopic robots-that are breaking down neural pathways in your brain so that you no longer have access to certain skills and building brand new ones so that being my obedient baby boy comes as naturally to you as breathing.”
“You…you reprogrammed my brain,”  Jack said, his voice tinged with fear and even a bit of wonder.

“Clever boy,” Jamie said.  She looked at Jack, and the wispy little hairs on his arms and chest, and the bits of stubble already starting to grown on his chin.  “Nanny, take the baby over to the changing table,” she instructed.  “Completely secure him.”

 

“YeS, mIsS vAsQuEz” Nanny accepted the command.

 

“This can’t be legal,” Jack shook his head as the brown haired machine scooped him up and walked him over to the giant changing table.  “You can’t do this to me!”

 

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that one,” Jamie said to herself.  “Actually, baby boy,” she called back to Jack, “I can.  Those papers you signed were an iron clad contract that have already been notarized, scanned and sent to the proper channels.  You’ve given me complete legal guardianship of you.”

 

“That’s, that’s not fair!”  Jack protested and began to struggle as Nanny was slipping his arms and legs into the cuffs on the padded table.

“I’m not the one that didn’t read what I signed.” Jamie countered.  Jack didn’t seem to have a comeback to that.

 

“It might not be fair,” Jamie said while Nanny did the hard work.  “But it is legal.  If it makes you feel any better,” she added, “you will be doing a job for me.”  Her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor beneath her as she went over to the changing table.  Nanny was just finishing pulling a strap over Jack’s chest.

“I’m planning on selling my little brain programmers in pill form,” she told him.  “I’m thinking of calling the finished product ‘Dominance’.”  Jack had stopped struggling and now seemed to be listening intently to what she had to say.

 

“But,” Jamie said, “the brain is a tricky thing, and my investors are going to want to know the limits of the technology.  So I encourage you to put up as much of a fight as you’d like.  I need to know the limits of willpower.”

 

She reached over and gave Jack’s diapered crotch a firm squeeze, and smiled at the squish and sag beneath her fingers.  So good.  So good.

 

“Oh,” Jamie added cheerfully as an afterthought, “and of course your feedback on the different baby products- the formula, the furniture, the diapers- that would be appreciated as well.  Procter and Gamble appreciate the feedback from someone who can actually talk.  So you’ll be testing those products as well as my own.”

 

“Product tester…” Jack all but spat the word out.  “So you want to market the ability turn the world into big babies.”

“What?” Jamie stifled a laugh.  “No, of course not.  My ‘Dominance’ nanites can do more than that.  I’m just having the ones that I feed you, help you be the best baby boy you can possibly be for me.”  Jamie caught a glimpse of dread in Jack’s face at the word “feed”. Good.

 

“It’s part of my particular…” Jamie paused, suddenly looking for the right word.  “…condition.”

 

Speaking of condition, before Jack could speak again, Jamie said “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby lies still and quiet on the changing table.”  Jack went limp. Good. The more advanced commands were working.  So much for that fight.  She turned to address Nanny.

“Nanny,” Jamie ordered, “the baby has too much hair.  Fix that.”

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ.”

 

The android extended its left index finger.  There was the slightest click as the tip of the finger folded backwards on the hinge of the first joint and a small metal rod unfolded out of the opening. A red light shot out of the rod and onto Jack’s upper lip.

 

Jamie heard the smallest sound of an electrical jolt as hair was burned down to the root.  The beam began to smoothly transition, pore by pore, as Nanny’s sensors pinpointed each and every protruding and unwelcome hair on Jack’s face and removed that faster and more efficiently than electrolysis ever good.  Within two minutes, Jack’s already undoubtedly limited ability to grow a beard had been reduced to absolutely zero.  All hair below the ears was gone.

 

Jamie continued watch with satisfaction as the rest of Jack’s body hair was surgically zapped away, never to grow again. Jamie patiently waited while Nanny loosened the straps enough to sit Jack’s prone body and get the back side.  Jack let out a little moan while the back of his legs sizzled.

 

The robot laid Jack back down and its hand made a move for Jack’s diaper.

 

“Stop,” Jamie ordered.  The android helper froze.  The first full-fledged diaper change was her privilege. Jamie stepped in and reached for the tapes.  The sound of Velcro ripping off in two short bursts was music to her ears, a familiar little ditty that she just could never quite get out of her head.

 

Jamie pulled back the front of the diaper and smiled to herself. Here, he was at her mercy, at his most vulnerable, his most pure state.  Speaking of pure, it was pure chaos down below.  Jack clearly didn’t take much time to “man-scape” as it were.  That could be taken care of easily enough.

 

“Nanny,” Jamie commanded, “This part too, please.”

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ”

 

Jack was likely putting in all the effort of a full-fledged wail as the laser beam removed the hair around his pubic area and scrotum, but the programming of the Dominance nanites was strong enough to reduce it to a whimper.  His mind was likely rebelling and swearing revenge, but his body belonged to her.

 

Jamie caught a glimpse as his eyes widened in discomfort while Nanny spread his cheeks to make sure that there was no spot left untouched.  Now that everything besides the hair on top of his head was now completely smooth; baby smooth- it was time to clean the parts that needed the most babying.

 

Jamie reached for the tub of wipes she kept by the changing table and gently wiped the inside of his thighs and scrotum.  Next, she made sure to rub the now bald and glistening pubic area.

 

After that, she grabbed a fresh wipe, still cold, and grabbed his limp cock; wrapping her hand around his member.  Gently she stroked him through the baby wipe; up and down, up and down, up and down.  Jack let out a low moan, this time one of pleasure and not pain.  Jamie felt his cock begin to swell and stiffen, becoming erect.

 

“Good baby,” she praised him.  Then she stopped.

 

Jamie removed his legs from the restraints, so she could lift his legs up and push them up to his stomach. She gave his backside a decent wipe down before sliding the wet diaper out from under him.  Nanny, helpful as always, was ready to receive the soiled diaper and already had a clean one unfolded and ready.

 

Jamie lowered her new toy’s rump down onto the fresh padding, and she shook out her arm a little bit from the relief of having the weight taken off.  She quickly reached for a jar of cream underneath the changing table, and dipped two fingers in, pulling out a thick and sweet smelling white cream.

 

She then proceeded to rub the cream all over Jack’s privates, to soothe the likely irritation that would ensue from having all of his hair down there removed.  Likewise, she lifted his legs back up and his ass was soon coated with the cream. After she sat his legs back down. Jamie took a moment to admire her handiwork and clean her hands with yet another wipe.

The job finally done, and Jack’s penis still erect, desperate for attention, Jamie spread Jack’s legs and pulled the front of the diaper back up over his crotch.  Then she reached over the side and pulled one Velcro tape up the side, and finally the other, securing him firmly in his new diaper.

 

“Good baby,” she patted the front of Jack’s diaper, now soft and crinkly.  Even through all the fluff and padding, she could feel the adult baby’s hard on for her.  He resented her, perhaps was in the middle of hating her, but some base animal instinct of his wanted to love her.  He wanted to be with her.  He wanted to fuck her brains out and have his own brains fucked out by her.

 

Time to let the animal out of his cage.   “All done,” she said stepping back.  The boy- for that’s what he had been reduced to- kicked the air like a mule the second the words had come out of her mouth.  His body thrashed and his legs swung wildly at the ceiling above him while. His hips gyrated as if on autopilot, and he humped the air desperate to have something, anything put pressure against his manhood and give him some form of sexual release.

 

He screamed incoherently, as if all the muted discomfort and rage from having his hair removed and his personal space and privacy completely violated had just violated and erupted all at once into a blind terror.

 

Jamie calmly walked around the perimeter of the table and approached his upper body which was fortunately still restrained.  She chided herself on not re-securing his ankles before releasing him.  She’d have to make a note of that for the next time she did this to a new baby boy.

 

“Shhhhh,” she patted his head and gently stroked his face. “It’s okay, baby.  It’s okay.  Mommy’s sorry she had your body in time out for that long.  I know it must be frustrating.  But calm down, now.  Shhhhh.”  Jamie briefly thought of giving the command phrase that would cause him to orgasm uncontrollably into his diaper, but decided against it.  She had just changed him, after all.

 

She would have had him cum before, but a similar mistake two man babies ago, before the hair had been removed had been unpleasant.  Jamie believed that one had been a Jim.  Jamie hadn’t known then that she hated the smell of electrified semen, but she knew now.  Jamie hadn’t gotten this far without learning from mistakes, both her own and those made by others.

Instead she just looked him in the eye and with practiced sweetness and sincerity said, “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  Mommy’s sorry.  She won’t do that again… unless you make her.”   Jack’s thrashing slowed to a halt.  That got the point across.  Smart boy.

 

“Nanny,” Jamie cued the android.  “Bring the baby over to the feeding couch.”

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ”

Jack was mercifully quiet while the robot untethered him from the straps.  Jamie unbuttoned her blouse as she walked over, her heels clicked on the floor as she walked over to the old familiar couch and sat down.

Maybe it was the anticipation- the thrill of the game begun anew- sharpening her senses, but the room was seemed so deathly quiet that Jamie could hear the nearly silent whirring of Nanny’s servos as the not-quite-human looking machine carried Jack over to her and laid him on his side so that his head was in Jamie’s lap.

 

“You’ve been such a good baby,” she stroked her toy’s soft and short hair.  “Ready for a little treat?” She opened up the nursing bra and felt the gasp of anticipation rock through Jack.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

Jack, for his part, was choosing to be quiet.  The old axiom was true: If you wanted a man to shut up, you just had to shove something he liked in his face.  By that measure, Jack definitely liked Jamie’s tit.  She gave her breast a tiny squeeze, letting a small droplet of milk drip out.  Jack’s eyes went wide.

 

“Now don’t bite,” Jamie warned, “or Nanny will spank.  You will not like it when Nanny spanks.”  Jack just nodded, opened mouthed, lips vaguely puckering at the air like fish gasping for breath.  Jamie smiled, it wasn’t even the Dominance doing this part.

 

Slowly, sensually, Jamie guided Jack’s head to her breast.  She jumped a little bit as he latched and began suckling her teat, his tongue licking and tickling and probing.  His hands were shaking, wanting to move and grope and squeeze, but too afraid to do anything without her permission.

 

Jamie liked this part, where they experimented and tried to figure out how to get the most milk out of her.  It was clumsy.  It was awkward.  It was natural.  Just like a newborn baby learning how to eat.  She allowed herself a moment of relaxation and closed her eyes, rewarding herself and her new pet with a low, satisfied moan.

 

While Jack was too afraid to touch her, Jamie had no such limitations.  She leaned and snaked her free hand, the one not holding up the man babies head, out towards Jack’s penis, giving it a slight little caress through the thick diaper.  It was still bulging and rigid like a soldier at attention; just waiting to be relieved.

 

Jack grunted at her touch, but did not attempt to thrust against her hand or hump the cushions of the couch.  Perhaps he was afraid she would punish him.  Perhaps he still had a measure of shame left in him.  No matter.  She could tease him in the meantime.

Jack’s hand slowly rose up to her shoulder and she felt him stop suckling, his lips going slack and his tongue withdrawing completely away from her nipple.  Suddenly, like a man coming up for air, Jack pushed off Jamie’s body and rolled off the couch

 

“No.”  Jack panted.  “Not this.  Not like this…”

 

“Hmmm….” Jamie clicked her tongue in amusement while her toy scrambled down onto floor.
“Look,” Jack spoke through gritted teeth, his brain a whirl of fear, anger, conditioned responses, and animal lust. “you might technically have the legal authority to do this, and oh my God are you hot, but this wrong.  You can’t do this.  I’m not a baby.  I’m a grown-ass man.”

 

“Oh?” his captor tilted her head to the side, bemused.  “So someone thinks he’s still a big boy?”

 

“You’re darn right, lady,” Jack nodded, brow furrowed.  Despite what he hoped was an appearance of strong resolve, Jack was already beginning to falter. It was hard to think.  He was angry, and scared and horny all at once, and none of those were particularly good for his willpower.

His penis and his brains were at competing agendas.  His libido was telling him to just go along with whatever she wanted.  Clearly this was some kind of sexual thing, some kind of bizarre fetish for her.  Powerful people had weird secrets, and this definitely qualified.  But that might mean he could get laid.  What was wrong with being a sex slave?  He’d at least get sex.

 

  Get laid first, his penis begged, then worry about escape.

 

But he couldn’t do that, or it might mean he might never get out of this.  He had to fight through the erection; move past the boner.

The headstrong, confident, cocky part of him was rapidly deflating too.  He knew that a few words from this woman could turn him into a vegetable.  He didn’t know how to fight that.  And as confident as he was trying to seem, it was hard to feel that way.  He was at her mercy. He was, like a…well…a baby.

 

Speaking of babies, it was hard to feel like you could be taken seriously when you couldn’t properly close your thighs together due to the and massive absorbent bulk between your legs and even the slightest movement resulted in a loud crinkle.  Jack didn’t feel much like man knowing that the characters from Sesame Street adorned his crotch.  He had to make a note to breathe through his mouth, too.  The smells of the perfume in the Pampers and the diaper rash cream coating his balls and bum were awakening long lost memories and sensations inside of him.  Jack said a little prayer that the urge to stick his thumb in his mouth was a result of whatever this psycho bitch had spiked into his food.

“Jack, baby boy,” Jamie hummed.  “You can’t take care of yourself anymore.  You’re just a baby.”

 

“No,” Jack said.  “I’m not.”  He crossed his arms briefly, then felt awkward realizing how pouty he looked, and then he uncrossed them.  Then he realized that he hadn’t gotten up off of the floor yet, and so he stood on his two feet.

“Do you think you stand any chance of getting out and telling people?” Jamie closed her nursing bra.  “After what I’ve already shown you, do you think you have any hope of being a big boy again?”

 

Jack thought for a second.  “Statistically,” Jack paused.  “Yeah.  You’ve done this before, I know. But you’re gonna get sloppy.  You’ve got way too many people that you have to trust.  Even if it’s not me, somebody is going to tell on you.”

 

“Oooooh ho ho ho,” Jamie chuckled.  “Somebody’s gonna tell on me?”  She buttoned her blouse back up and stood up to look Jack in the eye.

 

“Listen to yourself,” she tickled Jack underneath his chin before he recoiled.  “You’re already talking like a baby.  You can’t survive out there without me, now.  You need me.”

 

“That’s not true,” Jack objected.  “As long as nobody says…” Jack stopped and gestured to Jamie, “those words you say, then I’m fine.”

“Oh really?” Jamie grinned, the Cheshire cat smiling at the mouse door mouse.  “How about we put that to the test?”

 

“How?” Jack asked.

 

“First, some questions,” Jamie said.  “Answer them correctly, and I’ll think about letting you go.”

 

Jack thought about this and considered her challenge.  Even if she was lying, there was no harm in it.  The lady was clearly insane, but had enough money to where she’d just be considered “eccentric”.  Still, even crazy people operated by rules.  Take advantage of their crazy and they just might let you go.  As long as she didn’t say anything resembling “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby..”, he’d be alright.

 

“Okay,” Jack nodded wearily.  “Go on.”

“Trivia challenge,” Jamie smiled.  “What is your name?”

 

“Jack Grainger,”  Jack answered.  Easy answer

 

“What’s my name?” she asked.

 

“Jamie Vasquez,” he replied.  Another obvious answer.

 

“Where do you work?” Jamie was smiling now.

 

“The Infinitech building.”  Jack said.  Why the hell was she smiling?

 

“What’s the address?”  she quizzed.

 

“Three fifty, fifth avenue,” he answered.   Where was this going?

“Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong,” Jamie clicked her tongue and shook her head, a throaty laughter rising up out of her.
“What do you mean wrong?” Jack was incredulous.  He most certainly wasn’t wrong.
“Nanny,”  Jamie looked over at the thing that could carry Jack around like a doll, “play back the tape.”

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ” the Barbie-Maid said.

 

The wall of television monitors blinked to life, showing a security camera view of multiple angles.  Jack looked and saw himself, standing in his giant Pampers, while Jamie paced around him casually, rattling off simple questions.

But even though it wasn’t even thirty seconds ago, the scene on the monitors played out far differently than Jack remembered it:

 

“What is your name?” Jamie had asked.

 

“Jack-Jack,”  Jack saw himself respond confidently.

 

“What’s my name?” the Jamie on the monitor asked.

 

“Mommy,” the Jack from a minute ago replied.  There was no hesitation or uncertainty in his voice.  The Jack in the here and now felt his throat grow dry.

 

“Where do you work?” the Jamie on the television had that cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

 

“Mommy’s work”  Jack answered.  Jack couldn’t believe how stupid he looked, standing in a diaper calling her Mommy and giving answers a three year old might give.

 

“What’s the address?”  the Jamie from a minute ago asked his past self.

 

“One-two-three-four-five,” Jack from a minute ago rattled off with disturbing confidence.

 

Jack watched the whole thing, feeling his heart sink into his stomach.  How the hell had that happened?  Why didn’t he remember answering like that?  Was the film doctored?

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jamie purred into his ear.

 

“How is this happening?” Jack whispered in disbelief.

 

“Language centerrrrrs,” Jamie sang out.  “You think you’re saying what you want to say on certain things, baby boy, but you’re really just saying what I want you to say.”

 

“No,”  Jack shook his head, not addressing her, but whatever god allowed him to get himself into this mess.

 

“Oh yes,” Jamie countered.  “You could run out of this office right now, run straight to the police and tell them everything that I’ve already done to you, and you won’t actually tell them a thing.

“You can run away all you like, and all I have to do is monitor the psych wards and the prisons till you’re committed or thrown in jail and then I can come pick you up.”

Jack felt his chances for escape; his fantasies of rebellion slipping away.  There was only one thing left he could do.  Beg.

“I won’t go to the police,” Jack turned to her.  “I swear. Just let me go and you’ll never hear from me again.  I won’t make trouble for you, I just want to go and be left alone.”

“Hmmmm,” Jamie seemed to consider his plea for a moment, licking her lips.  Then she reached into her jacket and took out a small little square, no bigger than an old-fashioned compact mirror.  She tapped on it and swiped at it, like some kind of tablet or phone and stared at it intently for a few minutes.

Jack didn’t dare move during those few minutes while his employer and tormentor seemed to consider his request for leniency.  Then a cheerful little “ding” came, and Jamie smiled at him.

 

“You seem a little tense, baby boy,” she purred.  “This job is not quite what you thought it would be.”  That was the understatement of eternity.  Jack just nodded, dumbly.  Waiting for what had to be a trap, spring.

 

“Nanny,”  Jamie ordered.  “Get the baby some grown up pants.”

 

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ”

 

Jack couldn’t believe his ears.  What was the play here?  What was the catch?

 

“You seem to have a little trouble adjusting, honey,” Jamie circled around Jack and playfully poked him on the nose.  “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?  Come back to work tomorrow?”

“And what if I don’t?”  Jack couldn’t help but ask.

 

“Oh, trust me,” Jamie said.  “You will.”

  • Like 3
Link to comment

Damn.  I love the strong opening; we know right away what's at stake and what trap Jack is walking into.  Now the cat and mouse game is on and the question is; will Jack suffer Jackson's fate, or will he avoid it?  And, being familiar with your other works, I'd add the other proverbial shoe- if he does avoid it, what will the consequences be?  Conflict and tension are core strengths of your writing style and they really propel your stories along, which makes them hard to put down. :) 

Link to comment

Oooh, the start of another thrilling story by you Personalias! I have been a fan of a couple of your other previous stories & now you've got me hooked on this one too. Please continue!

Rockies Fan.

Link to comment
  • 2 weeks later...

As I started reading this I was thinking to myself “ My God she is killing him and he can’t do anything about it.” Well she wasn’t actually killing him, but she was sure as heck ending his life. This was some very intense reading and kept me on the edge of my seat from the very beginning and all the way through.  I loved it! I would have given this two or more likes but am limited to one at a time. I can’t wait to read more. There was one leading comment that keeps gnawing at the back of my head “She was running out of time” that seemed to be insinuating she was expecting the same to eventually happen to her and now I am dying to find out. 

Link to comment
  • 1 month later...

Side Effects Include…

 

“So you’re serious about this?”  Jack asked as he pulled the baggy sweat pants over his diaper. The robot nanny had brought out a baggy t-shirt, sweat pants, socks, and tennis shoes, all on Jamie’s command.  They were a little dumpy looking, but they were probably the only thing that could fit over the bulk of Jack’s diaper while managing to somewhat conceal it.   Jack shuddered at the idea that he had just mentally labeled it his diaper.  That had to be more of the nanites that had rewired his brain. Had to be.

“Well,” Jamie snorted a bit, blushing her blonde hair to the side, “I wouldn’t say serious.  Serious implies that I have something to lose in this.  But if my new baby boy wants to play big kid for a day, I’ll let him.”  She leaned in and tickled Jack under the chin.  Jack felt himself “hmm” a little bit from her caress, but then made himself recoil from her touch.  He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this!

 

“Look, Miss Vasquez,”  Jack said, taking a plain blue t-shirt- baby blue, he realized- and pulling it over his head, “I can’t go to the police or tell people what you’ve done to me; you’ve made that much clear.  But I am leaving, and I’m not coming back.”

 

“D’awwww,” Jamie grinned,  “He called me ‘Mommy’.”

“I’m serious,” Jack said, feeling indignant.  Why wasn’t she taking him seriously?

 

“I know,” Jamie chuckled, “and that’s what’s so cute about it.  You’re like a two year old telling me you’re running away from home and going out to live in the backyard forever.”

“That’s…that’s” Jack stuttered, “that’s not what it’s like at all!”  This mad woman was gaslighting him.  Worse yet, she was trying to trick him into staying, she had to be.

 

“Of course not,” Jamie cooed insincerely.  “You’re a big boy. But just so you know, Mommy will be here, ready to take care of you while you go camping under the slide.”

 

Jack said nothing, but instead sat down on the ground so he could pull on the socks and shoes that had been presented to him.  He gave a final indignant sigh when he noticed that the shoes were Velcro instead of laced.

 

“Don’t want my little baby tripping over his shoe laces,” Jamie said when she noticed Jack’s annoyance.
Jack stood up, choosing instead to say nothing, afraid of how his mouth might betray him now that the language centers of his brain had been tampered with.

 

“Just remember,” Jamie said slowly, almost seductively, “it can be really bad out there.  But in here, with me, with your Mommy, it can be really, really good.”

 

Disgusted with the insane woman in front of him, Jack turned around in a pivot and did his best to storm out of the posh office.  However, the waddling from the bulk between his legs and the soft crinkling coming from his rear end greatly diminished the effect.

“Oh Jack-Jack!” Jamie called after him.  Jack stopped, his lip curling in disgust and the hairs on his neck standing on edge.  “Don’t you want your wallet, baby boy?”

Jack looked back over his shoulder and saw Jamie dangling the wallet between her thumb and forefinger like it was a treat for a lapdog who’d done a fairly amusing trick.  Now all he had to do was beg.

 

“I managed to save it from your little accident, earlier,” Jamie smirked.  “Good thing you didn’t have a more serious accident, baby boy, or else this would be ruined.”  Jack half-snarled as he made himself turn around and waddle back to Jamie.

 

“Don’t worry though,” she added as he re-closed the distance between them, “you’ve got your diaper back on, so you should be fine.”  That part, in particular, struck a nerve with Jack.  ‘You’ve got your diaper back on…’   The way she phrased that was so insidious, so venomous, so condescending.  The statement’s purpose, Jack knew immediately, was to imply that Jack had worn the giant diapers his employer had foisted on him before today.  It was as if he wasn’t a grown man, but some naughty toddler who had decided he’d been ready for potty training, even though he clearly wasn’t.    She was gaslighting him, all right, and he was done putting up with it.
Jack’s stomped up to his tormentor and looked her dead in the eye.  Jamie didn’t blink.  Jamie didn’t look away.  Jamie was in no way intimidated by him.  And why should she be?  He was the one who a short time ago had just pissed himself and watched helplessly as he was stripped, diapered, paraded through a gaggle of women, pissed himself again, force fed mush in a wet diaper, and then have his body hair removed and his diaper changed; all because of a woman who had taken a perverse interest in him yesterday.

 

Jack imagined what she might do to him tomorrow.
He swiped through the air and snatched the wallet from Jamie’s fingertips before shoving it angrily into the pocket of his baggy pants.

“We’re going to have to do something about that,” Jamie said seriously.  “Otherwise Mommy isn’t going to be able to take you shopping without worrying about you snatching things off the shelves.”  Jack did the smart thing and chose not to engage her.  She was trying to make him mad; she was trying to justify to herself and to him that he should be treated this way.

Jack turned around, again, and moved to leave, but as he did, he felt the back of his waistband being pulled back.  He stopped and looked around to find Jamie peaking down the back of his diaper.

 

“Just checking.” Jamie said.  “You’re good.  Go play, baby.”   She let the waist band snap back into place, before giving Jack a pat on the butt.  Something inside Jack snapped right then.

 

Without saying a word, Jack reached down the front of his pants and grabbed hold of the tapes holding the scaled-up Pampers around his waist.  The tapes ripped open with a flick of his wrists, and then with the slightest repositioning of his hands he grabbed the front of the diaper and yanked up, pulling it out of his pants and sending it wafting into the air above his head.  Jack knew this was a bad idea.  He’d just experienced first hand that Jamie could make him pee his pants whenever she wanted.  He was likely incontinent.  But right now it was the principle of the matter.

 

Jamie didn’t gasp as the diaper, still thankfully dry, sailed through the air.  She didn’t laugh as it fluttered down to the ground.  She didn’t yell.  Instead, in a tone much less playful and infinitely more clinical, she said six words:  “You’re going to need that diaper.”

“Maybe,” Jack managed to say.  He couldn’t think of anything else to say; nothing witty, nothing threatening.  He just wasn’t going to give that bitch the satisfaction of the last word. He didn’t look back again as he walked once more towards the elevator, now no longer waddling or crinkling.

As the doors to the elevator closed behind him, he heard Jamie call back, “Bye baby boy! See you soo-”

 

 

Damn it. So much for the last word.

 

 

“MiSs VaSqUeZ,” Nanny buzzed.  “ArE yOu SuRe ThIs iS a WiSe CoUrSe Of AcTiOn?”  The robot rarely offered much in the way of counsel or conversation, especially when it didn’t involve the direct care of Jamie’s big little ones; so this was a bit odd.  Then again, according to its programming Jamie had just done the equivalent of sending a child out to play in traffic. So perhaps it wasn’t that odd after all.

 

Jamie re-punched some calculations into the almost comically tiny little tablet in her hand, before looking back at the droid.  A pleasant ping came back in response.

 

“There is an infinitesimally small chance that this little outing of his will backfire on me.” Jamie said.  “There’s virtually no risk.  I have a higher chance of being bitten by a shark who’s won the lottery while being simultaneously struck by lightning.”

“AnD tHe BaBy?” Nanny asked.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Jamie assured her humanoid appliance as much as herself.  “He’ll be back by tomorrow.”

 

“YoU dIdN’t Do ThIs WiTh ThE oThErS,” Nanny beeped.

 

“No,” Jamie sighed to herself, “I didn’t.  But they didn’t work out, did they?  And you know what they say about doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.”

“FiLe NoT fOuNd,” Nanny droned in reply.

“Oh,” Jamie shrugged.  “I guess you don’t, then. Point is, it’s madness.  Scientifically and statistically speaking, I have to try something else if I expect this to work.”

“ThEy LoVeD yOu,” Nanny stated.  It was not suggestion, it was fact.  “ObJeCtIvE cOmPlEtE.”

 

As much as any broken man baby could.  Jamie rolled her eyes.

“Love and care is your primary objective, Nanny.  Not mine.”

“PlEaSe StAtE oBjEcTiVe,” Nanny responded.

“Nanny,” Jamie groaned, “just shut yourself off until the baby comes back or until I have need of you again.”  She’d grown tired of the artificial “intelligence”.

 

“YeS, mIsS vAsQuEz.”
*************************************************************************************

“Come on,” Jack whispered to himself as the elevator slowly descended.  “Come on!”

 

The elevator dinged and came to a stop, but it wasn’t at the ground floor.  As fate would have it, Marty walked in, beard first, as usual.  He came in and stood next to Jack, absentmindedly before doing a double-take and gasping in surprise.

“Jack?”

“Hey,” Jack said, nervously.  If it hadn’t been whatever Jamie had spiked his food with making him unable to properly tell anyone what had happened to him, the almost crippling embarrassment he felt would have silenced him anyways.

 

“Dude!” Marty exclaimed.  “You look…different. I almost didn’t recognize you.”  Jack shifted uneasily on the balls of his feet, grateful in that moment that he didn’t have a giant diaper on that crinkled with every move he made.

 

“Yeah,” was all Jack said.  He looked over at his coworker.  The look in Marty’s eyes made it clear he was expecting more of an explanation.  “New job,”  Jack said after an uncomfortable silence.  Couldn’t this metal box move any faster?

“Yeah,” Marty nodded, smiling.  “I heard all about it.  Sweet gig, bro.”  Heard all about it?  Heard all about it?!  Either Marty had actually heard all about it, and was subtly weedling Jack under orders- he wouldn’t put such things past Jamie-or he knew nothing about Jack’s new “job” and was only unintentionally tormenting him.  The worst part was Jack couldn’t be sure which was going on.

 

“I’ve got some good news of my own,” Marty prattled on, oblivious to Jack’s discomfort.  “While you’re living the sweet life in product testing and reviewing, Shelly from HR just told me, I’ve been given all of your clients.  It’s more responsibility and a bigger workload, but it’s more money for me too.  So it looks like we both made out thanks to your little promotion.”

 

“Uh-huh.”  Jack said.  He stared at the numbers going down.  Too slow…too slow…

 

“So,” Marty leaned in, conspiratorially .  “Got any good stories, yet?”

“Huh?” Jack asked.

“Come on, man.  You’re working side-by-side with the genius hottie herself,” Marty playfully elbowed Jack in the ribs.  “What cool shit are you trying out?  What’s coming down the pipeline to market?”

“I…uh…” Jack fidgeted nervously.  “I can’t say.”

“Non-disclosure agreement,” Marty sagely nodded.  “I understand.”  He really didn’t.

 

“So,” Marty said.  “What’s she like, anyways?”

“Jaime?” Jack said – or at least thought he said.

 

“Mommy!”  Marty barked out a laugh.  “Dude! I didn’t know you were that close already.”  Jack bit his tongue, angry at himself.  Stupid! Fucking stupid!

 

“I know it’s a sweet job,” Marty guffawed, “but tell me you didn’t call her that to her face.  Chick that young? That hot?  Being called “Mommy” would not be the way to go if you wanted into her good graces.”  That decided it: Marty had no idea what Jack was going through.

 

Jack suddenly felt a slight twinge in his bladder and cast his eyes downward, in horror.

 

You’re going to need that diaper.  
Jack braced himself, ready for the yellow stream to just gush out of him and begin trickling down his legs.  Surely, he was incontinent. Obviously, the dam inside of him was about to break loose and he’s piss himself uncontrollably in front of his coworker and friend. Yet, somehow, nothing happened.  He still felt like he had to pee a little bit, but nothing more than “that soda went right through me”.  For the moment anyway, Jack felt very much in control.

The elevator slowed to a stop, dinged, and the doors slid open.  Marty moved to get out, but then stopped himself.

“After you,” he motioned out into the receiving area for “Sales”

“I’m going to the ground floor,” Jack said unsteadily.  “Lunch break,” he added.

“Oh!” Marty said.  “I thought you were coming to clean out your desk or something.”

“I’m sure somebody else is coming for that,” Jack half-lied.  “You can raid it first for anything you might want.”

“Dang, the perks you must get.” Marty shook his head.  “Okay, see you man.”

 

“See ya.”

 

The doors slid closed again, and Jack took a white knuckled ride all the way down to the bottom floor.  He kept staring at his crotch, wondering he would suddenly pee himself.

You’re going to need that diaper.

He had to be incontinent on some level.  That was the only reason to explain why he had peed himself while being wheeled around in that giant stroller.  There was no other reasonable explanation.

Maybe it was a command phrase.  The deliberateness of how Jamie had said “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle babywears his diaper,” had to be a command phrase.  As soon as the words “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby…” came out of her mouth Jack was sure his body would react and obey the next direction.

But then again, how likely would it be for anyone else to use that phrase and make Jack pee his pants?

 

You’re going to need that diaper.

That, in of itself might have been a command phrase to his reprogrammed brain.  Perhaps a time release of some sort.

Jack stared again at his crotch, expecting his bladder to let loose as the elevator doors slid open.  Still, nothing.  Jack sighed, bitterly, and walked out into the lobby and then rushed out into the busy city streets.

He was going to wet his pants again, likely at an embarrassing moment that would cement his adult infancy in his mind so that he’d come crawling (perhaps literally) to Jamie.  The Sword of Damocles was hanging over his head; of that Jack had no doubt. Now if only he could figure out where the scissors were so he might be able to dodge it.

 

As he hailed a cab to take him home, Jack felt yet another ache coming from his bladder.  God, why was this happening?  Did he really have to pee that bad or was the anticipation of having to pee just making things seem that much worse?

A yellow car pulled up and Jack opened the door and got in the back seat.

“Where to?”  A man with a foreign sounding accent in the front of the cab asked.

“Co-op City,”  Jack told him.  Jack leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

 

You’re going to need that diaper.

 

“And where is that, sir?”  The cab driver asked.  Great, a cab driver who didn’t know directions.

“The Bronx,” Jack sighed, not even opening his eyes.

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that, sir.”  The driver replied in a measured and calm tone reserved for when customers were being particularly difficult or obtuse.

“You want directions?”  Jack leaned forward, his eyes open.  This was getting to be annoying.  Jack had had enough bad luck as he could stand.

 

“No, just a more specific location than ‘home’.”  The cabbi said.

“I said Co-Op City,” Jack said very slowly.  “In the Bronx.”

“I’m sorry sir, but I do not understand you.”

Fucking idiot.  Guy clearly didn’t know how to speak English.  Jack felt another unpleasant tingle down below and envisioned himself pissing all over the back seat of this guy’s cab.  It’d serve him right, but Jack was in no mood to humiliate himself.  His bladder was likely a time bomb now and he wasn’t ready for it to go off just yet. Jack opened the door, and went back into the street.

“Hey!” The cabbi called after Jack.  “You still owe me two-fifty for opening the door!”  Jack was in no mood to argue with the useless idiot, so he opened his wallet peeled off a five dollar bill and threw it in through the passenger side window.

 

A very enthusiastic “Thank you very much sir!” made it to Jack’s ears as he continued walking down the street.

Frustrated at how easy it was for someone to get a permit to drive a cab and the fear of wetting his pants buzzing in the back of his mind, Jack walked down the street, his eyes cast downward the whole time, trying to think of a plan of some sort. He needed to see something for himself.  Jack walked a couple of blocks, apprehensive the entire way, and ducked into a nearby liquor store.  Without saying a word, Jack ducked and weaved through the aisles of gin, vodka, and rum and slipped into the tiny little bathroom.

 

Door locked, Jack dropped his pants, held his dick in his hands and…

 

And….

 

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  He pushed.  He relaxed.  He grunted.  He shook it.  Nothing.  He was as dry as a bone.  But why?  He felt the urge to pee, but couldn’t actually complete the act.  It was like his prostate was swollen or something.  Or was it shrunken?  Jack wasn’t sure which one, but he was sure that not being able to pee had somethingto do with his prostate.  He’d have to look that up later when he’d found the time.

 

Jack lowered the seat and sat down on it, like a little kid.  Maybe that would get things going.  It didn’t.  Jack looked around to make sure there wasn’t any cameras, and when he didn’t see any, he tried sticking his thumb in his mouth.  Maybe there was some kind of stimulus that would trigger his bladder.  If there was, he hadn’t found it yet.

 

Dejectedly, Jack rose up and hiked his sweatpants back up.  Not even bothering to flush, he walked back into the liquor store, head down in worry and frustration.

 

You’re going to need that diaper.

“Hey, buddy!” The shopkeeper called from behind the counter.  “Toilet’s for customers only.  You better be buyin’ somethin’.”

“Huh?” Jack looked up from the floor.  “Oh yeah.”  Jack grabbed a bottle of rum from off a nearby shelf.  Fuck it.  The way his day was going, a drink would do him good, anyways.  Drinking always made him have to pee anyways, thanks to it inhibiting his vasopressin secretion.  (Thank you, trivia night!)
Jack placed the bottle on the counter and grabbed a two-liter of coke to join it.  Then, he reached into his pocket, pulled a few bills out of his wallet and all but slammed them on the counter.

 

The store clerk behind the counter looked at the rum, and then looked at Jack, and then eyeballed the rum again.

 

“Lemme see some I.D.”, he said.

“Huh?” Was all the response Jack could muster.

 

“Come on baby face,” the clerk motioned ‘gimme’ with his hands, “lemme see some I.D.”

Jack sighed as yet another straw was added to the pile and held open his wallet so the man behind the counter could verify his age.

“This isn’t you,” the clerk said plainly.

“What do you mean this isn’t…?” Jack flipped his wallet around to look.  It definitely wasn’t him.  Jamie must have tampered with his wallet.

“You don’t look like a Hector Gutierrez to me,” the man behind the counter smirked.

Jack squinted his eyes to read the name on the license, only to realize he couldn’t.  Some part of Jack’s mind knew it was written in English; but for the life of him, Jack couldn’t read it.  The name on the license might have said “Hector Gutierrez” but Jack couldn’t be sure of that, and that made him even more scared.

Language centerrrrrs

“Jamie…” Jack hissed.

“Don’t cry for your Mommy in here, kid.” The clerk said.  “Ask her nice, and maybe she’ll by you booze.  But I’m not sellin’ any to you.”

“I wasn’t…” Jack started, “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t trying to say…”  Jack sighed, this time in defeat.  He moved the bottle of rum to the side and pushed the two liter of coke to the front.  “Just this, please.”

The man rang Jack up and gave him some change and the bottle of coke.  It was only when he was putting the change back in his wallet that he noticed something:  He couldn’t tell how much money he had.  The numbers made no sense to him.  They just looked like little scribbles and marks.  They didn’t mean anything to him.  He recognized the faces of Jackson, Hamilton, Lincoln and Washington, but none of the numbers on the bills himself.  The same was true for the soda waiting for him on the counter.  He recognized the familiar red and white color scheme and knew the white scribbles to be writing of some sort, but nowhere could he read the words “Coca-Cola”.   He couldn’t read.

That must’ve been why the asshole cabbie had been so happy; Jack must’ve peeled off a bigger bill than he had meant to; something that would have made stopping and arguing with a customer about where the Bronx worth the time.  That must’ve been why the cabbie was such an asshole to begin with.  Just like how he thought he was saying “Jamie” but people were hearing “Mommy”, he must also be describing his neighborhood, but all that  was really coming out of his mouth was “home”.
Language centerrrrrs.

Fuck.

Jack couldn’t hail a cab and communicate on how to get home.  He couldn’t read, so the subway was out.  For all he knew his brain had been damaged to where he couldn’t even be able to properly ask for directions to the correct train.  Phrases like “A-Train”, “B-Train”, and “C-Train” might have been replaced with “Choo-Choo”.

 

Fuck.

It was going to be a long walk home.

Jack took the coke with him as he started walking down the sidewalk.  He twisted off the little red bottle cap easily enough, but then it got slippery and fumbled out of his fingers and onto the pavement.  Great.  Just great.  Now it was guaranteed to go flat in a few hours.  But soda that wouldn’t last the night was literally the least of his problems.  It was at least a sixteen mile walk back home, and a trek in the heat of the day, with the sun reflecting off of the hot pavement, all while worrying about wetting his pants, wasn’t going to be a fun one.

 

With regards to the pants wetting: Some of that had to be a trick, Jack reasoned.  He was just likely oversensitive and paranoid.  He remembered a time when he had a urinary tract infection; how it hurt like hell and how because of that he was particularly aware of his bladder filling up to the point of absurdity.  Peeing was sometimes like an itch.  The more you thought about it the worse it was.  He wasn’t about to pee himself, he didn’t have anything left in his bladder to pee out again.  And the best way to prove that would be to fill up the proverbial tank once again.

You’re going to need that diaper.

 

“Fuck you, bitch”, Jack muttered to himself.  He tipped the bottle back…and gasped….and sputtered.  Brown, fizzy, sticky, sugary liquid rushed out of the bottle and into his eyes, and nose, then spilling into his mouth and then running out the corners down his face.

 

Jack stopped and spat as people walked by him, his face and neck dripping with coke.  Like a kid who had swallowed too much pool water, he gave a loud and almost angry burp as he shook his head, splattering little brown droplets onto the sidewalk.

 

“The hell,” Jack whispered. He had just over shot it a little, that’s all. He tipped the bottle back again, this time making it went properly into his mouth and his lips wrapped around the nozzle.  He started sucking at the bottle with all his might, inhaling the sugary drink as much as he was drinking the stuff.

 

When his own suction wouldn’t get enough of the stuff inside his mouth, he tilted his head back with it and gazed up at the sky through the clear plastic bottle.  He let gravity do the work.  Then Jack realized that he was gripping the bottle very carefully.  He was holding the Coke bottle with both hands, one on either side of the bottle.

 

He was holding the bottle just like a….like a….

 

You’re going to need that diaper.

 

Damn it!

 

The bottle tipped and spiraled out of Jack’s grasp from the shock of realization.  Jack didn’t have time to react as liquid sugar splashed down his chest, stomach, and the front of his baby blue sweat pants.  Great, he looked like some kind of drunken slob. Or, more appropriately, he looked like some kind of toddler that couldn’t even feed himself properly.  He couldn’t even buy booze and yet somehow he had a literal drinking problem.

Well, now his pants were wet anyways, but a diaper wouldn’t have been able to stop that regardless.  Jamie had really thought things out though with what she was putting Jack through.  His mind had been, for all intents and purposes, hijacked.  He couldn’t read, couldn’t accurately describe important people, places, or things so that people would understand him, there was something definitely off about his fine motor skills, and for some reason he constantly felt like he had to go to the bathroom.  This was likely exactly what that psychopath bitch had in mind when she let him “have the rest of the day off.”  It really was going to be a long walk home.
*************************************************************************************
Roughly sixteen miles later, Jack staggered home, exhausted.  The long walk had given him time to acclimate and think about his predicament.  It was a big city, and plenty of people freakier than a messy eater were out there walking the streets in broad daylight.

And Jack definitely was a messy eater, now.  A stop by a hot dog cart and ordering a foot long with the works had confirmed that much.  Unless he really concentrated, he’d grasp the bun too hard or too lightly.  He only seemed to be able to take either meager nibbles that provided neither taste nor sustenance or huge gaping mouthfuls that smacked up against the roof of his mouth and sprayed out into the air between bites.

It had taken him five whole foot longs to get it right so that he could adequately eat his food instead of wearing it, and even then a very un-adult-like amount had stained his clothes.  Fortunately “One please.  The works,” had been enough to be understood.  The words “Mommy” or “home” or possibly even “hot doggies” had not even needed to come out of Jack’s mouth.

The guy selling him the food didn’t seem to mind.  Jack’s money was still good, and Jack had enough wherewithal to remember which dead guy was on which bill.

 

The vendor had meant well enough when he asked, “So do you have that Michael J. Fox disease or something like that?”

 

“Something like that,” Jack replied.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The vendor prattled.  “You don’t seem stupid, if you know what I mean.  Like one of those…” the man paused and made a rude gesture with his hands to his chest and cocked his head to the side for emphasis. “Just seems like your arms and mouth ain’t listening to your brain.  Kinda like my grandpa near the end before senility kicked in.”

 

“Thanks,” Jack said flatly.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” them vendor kept digging, “why don’t you have some pretty nurse or somebody to help you?  Not that there’s anything wrong with being independent,” he added before Jack could shoot him death glares, “but there’s no shame in getting help if ya need it.”

Jack would have normally agreed with the man, except that the person who wanted to ‘help’ Jack had done this to him to begin with, and ‘help’ meant parading him around in Pampers for all to gawk at.

 

You’re going to need that diaper.

For what felt like the hundredth time today, Jack glanced down at his pants.  If he was peeing his pants, he couldn’t tell because of how stained they already were.  The ache in his bladder wasn’t going away, either.  No relief.  So that was a good sign…kind of.
“Hey buddy…?” the words of the hot dog vendor stirred Jack out of his reflection haze.  “Why don’t you have some kinda help?”
Jack paused and chose his words carefully.

“It’s…work related,”  Jack said.

 

“Oh those sons of bitches,” the vendor shook his head, gravely.  “Lemme guess; you got hurt on the job, fucked up your spine or something, and they’re dragging their asses with the insurance money while you’re out there having to fend for yourself with nobody watching your back, and they’re hoping that’ll make you willing to settle for less.”

 

“Pretty much,” Jack nodded.

“Mother fuckin’ rich fat cats,” the vendor commiserated.  “They think everybody else is their doll or something.  Like we’re just something to just play with and amuse them, never mind that we’ve got our own shit going on.”

“You have no idea,” Jack said.

“Here, buddy.  This one’s on me.”  He handed Jack the fifth and final foot long.  The one that Jack could actually eat most of the way.

 

“There ya go!”   the man’s fist pumped into the air.  “Fuck those sons of bitches!  If they think you’re gonna come crawling back to them because of the shit that they put you in, they’ve got another thing comin’!”

 

Jack blushed as this perfect stranger cheered him on as if he were a toddler learning how to feed himself.
“Yup,” Jack said after swallowing.  “Oh,” he added.  “And it’s Parkinson’s Disease.”

“What is?”

“That disease that Michael J. Fox has,” Jack told the guy at the hot dog cart. “The disease that gives him the shakes.  Bit o’ trivia.”

 

Presently, Jack was just outside his apartment building.  He didn’t even bother trying to get home through the front door, since Jamie hadn’t bothered to give him his keys back.  It was very possible that Jamie hadn’t even intended Jack to get as far as he had.  Jack hoped that meant she hadn’t thought to disable his ability to turn knobs and locks.

“Might as well check out what I’ve got left in me,” Jack said to himself as he eyed the fire escape.

A dumpster push, jump, climb, and sneak later, Jack was just outside his apartment.  Fortunately the tiny robots that Jamie had poisoned him with hadn’t taken away his natural athleticism.  Now, Jack was poking and prodding the windows of his living room, trying to remember which pain was the loose pane.

“Come on, come on,” Jack muttered.  He was rewarded with the feeling of a small pain of glass jiggling like a loose tooth.  Jack’s pokes became outright pushes and the specified piece of glass came right out and fell to the floor, shattering.   If Jack had had better neighbors, he might get the police called on him for trying to break into his own apartment.

Jack did his best to will his arm to become a snake as he twisted and contorted himself to reach through and unlock his own window.  He almost dislocated his shoulder, but he was able to trip the latch, allowing him to slide the window open.

Once he was inside, and the window was closed and latched again Jack collapsed in exhaustion and laid on the floor.  His eyes closed and if it weren’t for the sounds of the city outside streaming into his apartment through the missing pain of glass, he might have thought he was dreaming.

You’re going to need that diaper.

Jack sighed.  He still hadn’t managed to pee since he’d put on non-absorbant clothes.  Now was as good a time as any.  He was exhausted, but then again, all he really had to do was properly relax his bladder and let nature take its course.  Maybe that’s why some people called public toilets “restrooms”.

He picked himself off and walked to the toilet, feeling the need to relieve himself welling up inside of him.  Not even bothering to stand, he dropped his pants, sat down, and…

And…

 

Nothing.

 

No gush.  No trickle.  No nothing.  No relief.  And try as he might, Jack couldn’t make himself pee.  He definitely had to go to the bathroom, he knew that much himself.

“What gives?” Jack asked himself.

 

You’re going to need that diaper.

 

Jack couldn’t understand what was happening.  Why couldn’t he pee?  Why wasn’t he peeing more often?  Why hadn’t he peed himself on any number of occasions throughout this miserable day?

 

He couldn’t speak like an adult when it mattered.  He could barely eat like one.  Why wasn’t he pissing his pants?  Everything Jamie had revealed told Jack that she had wanted to treat him like a big baby.  And babies didn’t have any kind of bladder control.  That’s why they wore…

 

You’re going to need that diaper.

Eureka!  What if Jamie hadn’t meant that Jack was going to be incontinent? What if Jamie had meant that he was going to need diapers?  What if after the initial “accident”, Jamie’s tampering with his brain had made him absolutely and definitively diaper dependent?  What if he wasn’t incontinent?  What if he wasn’t un-potty trained?  What if by some strange mechanism, Jack was now diaper trained?

 

Only one way to find out.

Jack hiked his pants back up and went to the front door, the urgency of his need eating away at his composure.  He unlocked his door and let himself out.  If some burglar wanted to rob him, let them.  He had more urgent matters on his mind.

 

The nearest pharmacy and convenience store was an agonizing four blocks away.  Every step Jack took caused a festering pain in his nether region.  Briefly, Jack’s mind flashed to how in ancient times men’s penises were tied up and they were force fed wine until their bladders ruptured.  That was not a fun bit of trivia to have in his mind right now.  Would that happen to him?  If something in his brain was making him hold it in right now, would his bladder ever give out or would it rupture and kill him? Even if it did give out, would the strain do any kind of long-term damage such as true incontinence or would he be subject to a life of excruciating pain until inevitably he peed himself?  No option seemed good, and the lesser of these evils lay in front of him.

With pain driven steps, Jack walked into the store and went straight for the embarrassing medical products aisle.  He grabbed a package of Depends without breaking his stride and went straight for the men’s room.

The handicap stall in the men’s room didn’t give Jack much in the way of privacy, but it did give him room to change his clothes.   In a perverse reversal of order of operations, Jack was squirming and squinting and shifting from foot to foot– doing a potty dance- as he opened up the package, kicked off his shoes and pants, and slid the adult pull-up up his hips.

The tiniest trickle came out of him was he was padded and Jack held his breath.  Yes?  Yes?

Then nothing.  What the hell was going on?  He was diapered, wasn’t he?  The condition had been met.  He was wearing a Depends for God’s sake! He was as diapered as any…

 

You’re going to need that diaper.

 

Jack looked over to the wall in the handicap stall and saw the baby changing station on the wall.  Oh no.  Jamie hadn’t put him in an adult diaper.  It was adult sized, but that was the only thing “adult” about it.

Still without pants, Jack dashed out of the men’s room and ran to the baby aisle.  He grabbed a package of Pampers before doing a U-turn and running back into the men’s room.  The started shouts and guffaws of other customers echoed behind him as he ran back into the men’s room handicap stall from which he came.

He ripped open the package and the sweet smell of baby perfume wafted up to his nostrils.  The cast of Sesame Street smiled at him from the soft padding in his hands.  Jack unfolded the diaper and stuffed it in the front of his incontinence brief.

It wasn’t even ten seconds before Jack felt the sweet humiliating relief of his bladder relaxing and the warm wet liquid gushing into his pants.  The baby diaper didn’t hold much comparatively, and it wasn’t long before the leak guards failed and leaked out the sides and back and into the waiting Depends.

The diaper was sagging with the better part of a day’s worth of urine.  Jack had just put on the diaper and already he needed a change.  He grimaced and looked down at the packages on the bathroom floor.  These things weren’t cheap, either in the long term.  He was effectively incontinent, but required baby diapers in addition to incontinence products that might actually get the job done.

A catheter might work, Jack considered, but that was painful and expensive too. Plus, he highly doubted any kind of medical scan would indicate a blockage explaining why he could no longer pee on command, so there likely wasn’t an insurance company in the world that would pay for the supplies.  Some nagging feeling also told him that it wouldn’t go over well if he requested a brain scan to prove that his “Mommy” at “Mommy’s work” had drugged him so that his name was “Jack-Jack” and now he couldn’t go pee in the potty.

 

He was also effectively illiterate, and he ran the risk of literally not knowing what he was talking about.

Was this how it was going to be?  Buying adult diapers and baby diaper stuffers so that he could have the comfort of being able to uncontrollably wet his pants or else be in constant pain from a bladder that wouldn’t unclench otherwise?  And having almost no skill set with which to support himself?

Jamie literally had something that no one else could give him.  Diapers. Rent free shelter. Bottles he could drink, and food he could eat.  And like the guy at the hot dog stand had brought up, was it really that bad getting help taking care of himself if he needed it?  More importantly, did he really have a choice?

The door flung open and a man walked into the restroom.  Based on the logo on his polo shirt, he worked here.

“Excuse me, sir,” the man began.

“Here,” Jack cut him off.  He handed him the wallet from his sweat pants.  “Take it.  There should be just enough money left to cover the diapers.”

“Sir, if you don’t put your pants back on I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store,” the man said with a mix of practiced forcefulness and a touch of fear.  Jack must’ve looked like some kind of crazy to the man, and everyone knew you just don’t mess with crazy.

“I’m already leaving,” Jack said.  No looking back now.  Only forward.

It was going to be a long walk back to Jamie.
“D’aw,” Jamie cooed.  “Look who came back!”  It was late, but not too late, as far as Jamie was concerned. Jamie had stayed in her office and was prepared to spend the night in case Jack had decided to come back.  Just as she was getting ready to fall asleep on the couch, security buzzed her and let her know that a strange man wearing just a ratty t-shirt and an adult diaper was banging on the front door.

Of course she instructed them to let the boy in.  Jack now stood before her, at the doorway to her office, smelling of sweat and stale urine, an adult diaper swaying like a pendulum between his hips.

 

“Awww,” she mocked her new fascination.  “You missed your diapers, so you came back didn’t you?”

Jack didn’t say anything.  He didn’t need to.  Jamie was certain and her calculations were correct: If the meddling with his language centers didn’t do the trick, the trouble eating and the diaper dependence would.  Jamie was curious though.  With the programming from this batch of Dominance nanites, he shouldn’t even have been able to relieve himself in an adult diaper.

Casually she leaned over and pulled back the front of his diaper.  Sure enough, there was a baby diaper of some sort stuffed in there.  He had managed to find a loophole in her programming. To say that she was impressed would actually be an understatement.  She’d have to remember that for future batches of Dominance.  Maybe this baby boy would provide more fun for her than expected after all.  Still, she was going to win and that made it all better.

“Such a clever boy,” Jamie patted her charge on the head.  “But aren’t you tired of wearing these homemade diapees?  Don’t you want some that actually fit you?”
“Yes, Mommy…” Jack said, his  head bowed.  He hadn’t meant to say “Mommy,” Jamie knew.  Likely he had just thought to say “Jamie” or perhaps “ma’am.”  But soon enough, he’d call her “Mommy” and mean it.

Jamie smiled.

“Let’s go home.”

 

To be continued….

  • Like 5
Link to comment

Super Good Story.  Jaimie has really messed Jack up, but Jack is also clever.  I'm ready for the next chapter.  I actually remembered being a child and not being able to read while I was reading how Jack no longer could and just the symbols and confusion.  Trying to eat the hot dogs and the vendor's comments was a great scene.  This story truly has me immersed,  I wonder what it is that Jaimie really wants, why she is almost out of time, and how Jack will continue to struggle or use his cleverness. Thanks for sharing with us!

Link to comment
16 hours ago, kirababy said:

wow, what a great addition!   Love the writing, one can almost feel that struggle.

Thanks.  This one started out as a very simple request that kind of went crazy down the line.  (My fault.)

 

11 hours ago, ELLIE52 said:

Super Good Story.  Jaimie has really messed Jack up, but Jack is also clever.  I'm ready for the next chapter.  I actually remembered being a child and not being able to read while I was reading how Jack no longer could and just the symbols and confusion.  Trying to eat the hot dogs and the vendor's comments was a great scene.  This story truly has me immersed,  I wonder what it is that Jaimie really wants, why she is almost out of time, and how Jack will continue to struggle or use his cleverness. Thanks for sharing with us!

Thanks!  I'm glad their primary character traits are shining through!  I didn't want Jack to just be the typical meathead turned submissive baby boy that is common in these types of stories, and I didn't want Jamie to be the typical just for the lolz and faps Mommy Domme.  So I tried to give Jack a sense of cleverness, despite his bad position, and Jamie a sense of desperation despite her position of power.

42 minutes ago, JustinDB87 said:

Superb writing once again. Can't wait for the next update!

Next one should be ready on the first of the month!  

Link to comment

Neat plot.  His "struggles" really made for a fun read.     

 

I'm pretty curious about this artificial intelligence robot, though. Maybe it's my thirst for plan going awry and backfiring speaking, but I can really see it somehow cause Jam-Jam to share these sweet growing struggles along Jack-Jack. :P

Link to comment
1 hour ago, vended said:

Neat plot.  His "struggles" really made for a fun read.     

 

I'm pretty curious about this artificial intelligence robot, though. Maybe it's my thirst for plan going awry and backfiring speaking, but I can really see it somehow cause Jam-Jam to share these sweet growing struggles along Jack-Jack. :P

There will be more Struggles along the way, don't you worry.  It was really fun writing the Nanny-bot, too. I'm not gonna give spoilers though.

Link to comment
9 minutes ago, vended said:

I wasn't asking for one either! Just letting my imagination go wild here. :P

 I'm eager to see these following struggles you mention, anyways. 

  

See you then. ;) 

Sorry, forgot to add "winky face" or "smiley face" or "tongue sticky outy face" to let you know I was bein' playful.  See you then!

Link to comment

No problem. On the other end of the spectrum, I tend to overuse smileys myself because with english not being my first language it happened to me before that I ended up sounding rude when not intending to.      

 

Silly internet not connecting our brainwaves for automatic mutual comprehension yet. 

Link to comment

That was a fantastic new chapter. Poor Jack Jack didn’t last long on his own. Mommy was pretty sneaky and certainly covered her bases well. I am still curious about that one comment “She is running out of time”. I was happy I was able to give this a like.  I normally don’t get any new likes this early in the day. I am already waiting for the next chapter to come out. 

Link to comment
  • 1 month later...
  • 8 months later...

Little Carrots and Big Sticks

 

Jack’s transition back into diapers was quick, painless, and utterly degrading.  Jamie’s robotic Nanny laid him down right there on the floor and ripped the clothes off of Jack’s body like they were made of tissue paper.   “You won’t be needing them anyway,” Jamie had told him, smiling like the cat who had recaptured the mouse.

Then, of course, came the new diaper; and this was most definitely a diaper.  No more packages of adult incontinence briefs.  A thick, goopy cream was spread on and rubbed into his ass by the nanny, followed by a generous dusting of talcum powder on his crotch, until finally the enlarged Pampers was pulled up between Jack’s legs and fastened on with Velcro tabs.  Jack’s new “Mommy” watched all of this with the relaxed focus of someone catching a golf game.

The ride “home” was equal parts uneventful and unnerving.  Out on the sidewalk with Jamie and Nanny, Jack didn’t even have time to feel nervous standing there, naked save for an Elmo decorated disposable, as a limo pulled up within seconds of the trio exiting the Infinitech headquarters. Holding his wrist in a vice grip, Nanny opened the limo door for Jamie.  Once its master was inside, the automaton got in and pulled Jack into its lap.   “Don’t worry, baby boy,” Jamie cooed mockingly to her new man baby.  “Nanny is safer than any seatbelt.  You’re in good hands.”  The infantilized man didn’t have time to even register the remark before Nanny’s not-quite-human hands wrapped around his waist.  “There we goooooo.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way.  Jack didn’t bother trying to ask questions or strike up a conversation with his captor.  What was the point?  She was in control.   As far as he knew, Nanny only spoke when some facet of its programming demanded it; point being Nanny probably wasn’t much for small talk.  Not even the limousine’s driver said anything.  Suddenly curious, Jack twisted in Nanny’s lap to try and peer through the tinted glass separating the passenger compartment from the driver’s seat.  Was there anyone up there?  Jamie Vasquez already had access to androids and nanobots.  A driverless limo was easily within the realm of possibility.

“StOp SqUirMiNg, BaBy,” Nanny buzzed a warning.  An urge to tell the mannequin to go fuck itself rose up in Jack before he wisely decided to ignore it and settled back down.  Jamie, meanwhile, sat contentedly across from her slaves- both old and new, robotic and diapered- her face illuminated in the glow of the tiny tablet she kept on her at all times.  As she poked at the compact device, her smile deepened with each pleasant “ding”, her focus becoming even more intent.

There was something familiar about those eyes, Jack decided.  She wasn’t just checking Facebook on there.  Stocks weren’t a likely option, either.  The young man had already had a fairly interesting life- though calling his current situation “interesting” was an understatement- and he recognized the look on his employer’s from somewhere.  Memories of a Las Vegas vacation came to the forefront of his mind.

That’s where he knew the look on Jamie’s face from! He’d seen those exact kind of eyes as he’d passed the rows slot machines filled with old crones hoping for the old triple cherry. Just one more pull of the lever and it was going to be their big score and they could finally retire.

One more spin of the roulette wheel; bet it all on black.  Just one more hand of blackjack; the deck was hot.   Those were gambler’s eyes. Those were addict’s eyes.  For all her money, Jamie had more in common right then with a hobo holding a scratch-off ticket than with a twenty-six year old billionaire.  What was she gambling on?  Jack had no idea, but he was more worried now than he had been being wheeled around in that giant stroller.  Addicts were dangerous. Gamblers even more so.

The car slowed to a stop and Jamie reached for the door.  “We’re heeeeere,” she announced in a sing-song reminiscent of a horror movie.  “Welcome home, Jack-Jack.”  Taking a moment to slip tiny computer into her suit jacket, Jamie opened the door and stepped out. Effortlessly, Nanny shifted Jack and scooped him up in its arms, cradling him as it exited the vehicle and onto the street, the Manhattan skyline staring down at them.

Jack bobbed up and down as Nanny, following close behind Jamie, walked into the lobby of the nearest skyscraper.  “Good evening, Miss Vasquez,” the security guard greeted them.  If he was perturbed by Jack’s current state of dress, or lack thereof, his face gave nothing away to indicate it.

“Evening, Gimble,” Jamie replied nonchalantly, not breaking her stride as she made a bee line for the elevators.  “Fun night ahead of me. Got a new baby to break in.”  The color immediately drained from Jack’s face.  Obviously, he shouldn’t expect any help from Gimble.

“Yes ma’am, have a good night.”

Inside the elevator, Jamie leaned over to the dashboard and pressed her face against some kind circular peephole above where one would normally press the board, while Nanny waited passively, Jack still in its clutches.  There was a pause and Jack caught a glimpse of infrared light shining over her eye.

“Retina scanned and registered,” a recording of the young woman’s own voice filled the elevator car.  “The passphrase has been set…ten…days in advance.  Please speak today’s pass phrase.”

The young woman closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose, evidently trying to remember the correct phrase.  “Go then, there are other worlds than these.”

“Passphrase Accepted.  Welcome, home, Jamie.”  There was another brief pause before the elevator lurched to life.

Overcome with curiosity, Jack finally spoke up, despite himself.  “Dark Tower?”

Jamie looked over to the man baby cradled in Nanny’s arms and favored him with a smile, this one far less sinister than previous ones.  “I’m a bit of a Stephen King fanatic.  He really gets me.”

“You mean you get him?”

“No,” the founder of Infinitech shook her head. “I don’t.”  Jack didn’t know how to respond to that one, so he thought it best to keep the conversation going but change the subject.  This was the first time since this morning that Jamie had talked to him in something other than mock motherese.

“Guard on your payroll?” he asked.

His captor smirked.  “I own the building, so of course he is.”

“He seemed pretty nonchalant about the whole baby thing.”

Jamie reached over and tousled his hair. “Silly boy, do you really think you’re the first baby I’ve brought home with me?” Jamie’s hostage bristled slightly at her touch.  So much for that route.  Time for a different tack.

“Whole lotta high tech security,” he mentioned as nonchalantly as possible.  “Enemies?”

His new “Mommy”, evidently wasn’t having any of it.  “Don’t you worry your cute little head about any of that,” her smile turned dangerous again.  “All you have to worry about is how full your tummy is and how your diapee is.  Speaking of which,” she paused, “how is your diapee?”

Still cradled awkwardly in Nanny’s arms, Jack’s eyes wandered towards his diaper.  His diaper.  That was going to take some getting used to.  He felt a slight aching in his bladder, now that he thought about it, but it wasn’t anything that he’d have noticed unless he’d been specifically thinking about it.  Unlike earlier today, the wetness indicator on the Pampers was yellow, indicating that he was still very much-

A patch of blue spread as a spurt of urine shot out from Jack’s penis.  Jack gasped as his diaper warmed ever so slightly.

It wasn’t much pee, but it was enough to unnerve Jack.  There had been no voice command that he had recognized; no talk of “widdle babies” or how of “Mommy wuvved” it when they wet themselves.  “How…?” the poor boy managed to sputter, his throat tightening.

“Dominance nanites,” Jack’s tormentor explained.  “They can’t quite make you incontinent, but they can make you go if you’re thinking about it.  So the best way to keep your diapee clean is to not think about it.  Good luck with that.”

If he ever thought about needing to go, his body would betray him.  Even if he somehow became a master of ignoring the burning twinge of a full bladder, the moment it registered as such, the battle would be lost. Jack’s face had more in common with a caught bass than with a toddler as he let that last bit of information sink in.

Seeing Jack’s dumbstruck and hopeless expression, Jamie took a moment to relish pinching the boy’s cheeks.  “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she cooed.  “You’ll eventually become truly incontinent when your big boy bladder and bowels atrophy and your body completely forgets how to hold it in.  My friend Shelly tells me that there are fetishists who do it to themselves all the time.  Just think of the medicine I put in you like a kind of reverse training pants.”

“Then why not get one of them to be your baby?” Jack sulked as the elevator came to a stop.

“Awww honey,” Jamie said. “You wouldn’t even begin to understand if I told you.”

They stepped out of the elevator and into a suite that could modestly be described as “palatial.”  The elevator opened up to a living room that was easily just as big as Jamie’s office, and Jack noticed that there were multiple doorways and hallways leading elsewhere. “You can put the baby down, Nanny”

“YeS, mIsS vAsQuEz,” the thing holding Jack buzzed before setting him down.  His feet hadn’t even been on the floor for two seconds, before Jamie was giving the front of his diaper a pat and a squeeze.

“Definitely just a tiny tinkle,” she teased. “You’ll be fine for a while, yet.”

Jack opened his mouth to say “Yes Mommy,” but instead caught himself and said, “Yes ma’am”.  He didn’t care if the language centers of his brain had been hacked, and he might be saying “Mommy” anyways and not even consciously realize it.  He knew what he had meant to say, and that meant something, however small.  Whether it was “ma’am”, or “Mommy” that had actually come out of Jack’s mouth, the woman who had ruined his life seemed pleased by it.

He must’ve been pouting though, because Jamie then took his hand in hers and said “Oh don’t be such a grumpy face.”  Her finger tickled under his chin patronizingly.  “You’ll get used to your diapees in no time.”

It wasn’t at all in his best interest he knew, but Jack turned away from his captor.  He instantly regretted that decision, as Jamie used one slender finger to pull back the waistband of his adult Pampers and peek inside. “Not yet,” she snickered, “but soon.”

Fuck. You.”

The words hadn’t even become fully formed thoughts in Jack’s mind before he uttered them.  Instantly, his heart was pounding, his adrenaline pumping.  The sword of Damocles was hanging over his head and the queen bitch herself had the scissors. Jacks’ stomach churned.  Here came the slap in the face or the spanking.  Hell, here came some kind of coded message to his nanobot-infested brain designed to activate all of his pain receptors at once.  Except Jamie didn’t even wince.  The curse didn’t register with her.  She must’ve altered curse words out of his vocabulary, the same way that he likely said “Mommy” whenever he was referring to her.

Instead of drawing back her hand and slapping him, Jamie took Jack’s hand in hers and led him away.  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby follows her.”  Jack’s feet were no longer his.  Jamie walked through the suite, passing by an adult sized playpen positioned in front of a large flat screen television.  His neck contorted and twisted- rather like an owl’s- when he tried to do a double take and confirm that yes, that had been a jumper swing big enough to fit him as his feet were forced to trail behind the motherly sociopath.

Warm carpet gave way to cold tile as Jamie led her latest victim to what had to be the bathroom; though most bathrooms weren’t big enough to play basketball in.  Jack took a mental inventory of his immediate surroundings.  There was a sizeable bathtub, of course, and a toilet; but there was also a shower, a bidet, a hot tub, several sinks and yes-he regretted noticing- a scaled up variant of a fold up changing table mounted to one of the walls.  It even had a picture on it; a smiling cartoon bumble bee with a diaper on its thorax, its little black stinger poking out the back.  For some reason, he noted, the bathroom even had a urinal, even though Jack couldn’t imagine Jamie allowing a guest capable of easily using one.

The only bathroom fixture that was absent from this space was a scaled up version of a child’s training potty.  Grimly, Jack realized that there was likely a very good reason for that.

Jamie noticed his gaze when he looked at the tub.  “Oh, no, no,” she tittered. “Babies have bath time in the mornings.”  When he motioned questioningly to the mounted changing table, she again corrected him.  “I already told you, your diapee can hold a lot more than a tiny tinkle.”

They met each gaze for a moment, each one questioning the other; sizing each other up in a battle of wills.  Her eyes were the barrel of a gun, and Jack was staring straight down it.

“You want to know what we’re doing in here?” she asked.  He nodded.  The smallest hint of hope flickered up in Jack as she led him to a nearby toilet, but he was smart enough to quash it.  He already knew from the day he’d just had that he couldn’t possibly use it.

Jamie took off her skirt and shimmied her panties down her legs before sitting down on her porcelain throne.  Such a fitting euphemism: porcelain throne. Here is where there was the greatest gap in power between the two.  This seat was a privilege reserved for her and he could only dream of using it in any meaningful way.  “Let’s play make-believe, baby boy.” She patted her thigh.  “Come. Sit.”

Reluctantly, but not seeing much other choice, Jack obeyed, and positioned himself into her naked lap.  She wrapped her arms around his waist. “We’ll play pretend,” her voice echoed off of the tiles. “Mommy will go potty, and you can pretend it’s you doing it, instead.  Okay?”

There wasn’t time for Jack to even nod before a strong and steady trickle of liquid hitting liquid filled his ears.  His cheeks flushed bright red at this latest indignity.  A low breathy moan from behind him joined the tinkling and Jack’s muscles tensed in excitement.  Oh god, why was he liking this?  She hugged him closer and he felt her breasts on his back, her nipples erect through her clothes; any hint of a bra suddenly conspicuously absent.

His member throbbed with a sudden list and he had to fight with all of his being the urge to grind up against the damp padding of his diaper.  A slender, almost dainty hand slid down between his legs and pressed through the bulk, teasing his cock ever so gently.  “Does baby like that?” he heard.  Without meaning to, Jack nodded his head.

“Good,” Jamie whispered. “This next part is easier if you’re…hmmm…primed. Now get on the floor.”  Shaken with desire, Jack obeyed, lowering himself off of his kidnapper’s lap and crawling to all fours.     Jack’s panting in anticipation mingled with the distinct papery rustling of his diaper; the two sounds bouncing around the cavernous bathroom.  Even he knew what was about to come next.

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby makes cummies in his diapee.”

Spasms rocked through Jack’s body as he began writhing on the floor in instant ecstasy.  His sex drive rocketed from thirty to a hundred miles an hour instantly, sending him over the edge into one of the hardest orgasms of his young life. Suddenly exhausted, Jack rolled over onto his back while Jamie leaned over from her perch and gently rubbed the front of his diaper like a master scratching her dog’s belly.  “Good baby,” she told him.   His pelvis bucked weakly against her hand, more out of some preconceived expectation than actual sexual energy.  The young man hadn’t erupted that hard in his clothes since he had accidentally brushed up against Susan Collins’s breasts in the lunch line back in eighth grade.

Jamie’s hot breath blew into Jack’s ear.  “Get ready,” she hissed into Jack’s ear. Then she whispered, “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby-“

“NO!” the babified man howled.  “NO! NO! NO! NO!”  But it didn’t matter how much he yelled.  He had heard the command over his own screams, and even if he hadn’t heard every painstaking syllable, the command phrase had been uttered and he had an idea of what the monster woman had wanted.  That was all the microscopic robots inside his brain needed.  Wave after wave of cramps hit him while he clutched at his belly.  He grit his teeth.  He clenched. He slammed his eyes shut trying to block out the world outside his own body.  His legs betraying him, Jack felt his feet leave the floor and raise into the air, shifting his hips so that he could…

No! Never!

Fighting against his own body, his own brain, Jack flipped back over onto all fours and slammed his rump back into his heel, a metaphorical finger in the dike.  He groaned in pain as fresh spasms of pain moved through him.  Desperate for some sort of comfort, Jack bowed his head to the floor, seeking relief in the cool tile on his forehead. Had he been able to see himself, he would have seen a young man with his head lower than his ass, seemingly praying to whatever gods above or below might save him.  It wasn’t an entirely inaccurate perception.

His “Mommy,” looked on and stroked his hair softly, while the command ran its course, shushing his groans.  “Don’t fight it, baby boy.  Just let it happen,” she purred.  Jack refused to budge, becoming a gargoyle on the porcelain floor. Here was his line in the sand that he would not willingly cross.  Here was his Alamo.

It was nearly five minutes of groaning and grunting in agony before Jack’s body finally gave up on him.  Primal utterances and rude noises kindled together in the bathroom as fresh hot steaming debasement spilled out into the back of his diaper.  Jack felt as though he might vomit with each accompanying pat that Jamie gave to his backside.

“Good baby.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply with some form of defiant curse word, but he was too disgusted with himself.  “Oh, and I almost forgot,” Jamie’s voice took on a dreadfully perky tone.  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby makes cummies in his diapee.”  His second orgasm wasn’t nearly as powerful as the first- a single bottle rocket compared to the Fourth of July- but cum still spurted out into his diaper while happy hormones flooded his nervous system.

Jamie’s bare foot nudged an exhausted and unresisting Jack back over onto his back, causing him to grimace in disgust.  “Once we do that enough times, baby will start getting horny all by himself when he uses his diapee.  Isn’t Pavlovian conditioning wonderful?”  Her new pet didn’t deign to respond.  “That was for being good and coming back home to Mommy so quickly.  This, is for having a potty mouth.  Nanny?”

The android was so fast it might as well have teleported beside Jamie, casting its shadow over the pathetic and spent adult baby by.  “YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ,” the thing buzzed.

“The baby has been very naughty.  Spank him.”  The floor fell away from Jack as Nanny grabbed him by the waist and held him under one arm.  Too tired to struggle, all he could do was close his eyes and wait for the worst to happen.  He didn’t wait long.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

The sound of the automaton’s spanks thundered like gunshots as appendages stronger than any human could possibly be slapped rapidly against his backside.  Even with his rear padded as it was, Jack cried out as searing pain spread across his backside, his whole nervous system screaming with him as an electric fire spread across his synapses.  Feebly, he kicked in Nanny’s grasp while Jamie watched appreciatively. He wasn’t expecting to actually wriggle free, but praying that the squirming would appease his mistress and that she would make it stop.

“Hold,” Jamie commanded, and for a moment the pain lingered after Nanny stopped, before finally subsiding.  The founder of Infinitech crouched so that she could look her baby boy in the eye.  “Do you have anything to say?”

“I’m-“ Jack panted.  “I’m sorry.”

What was that?”

“I’m sorry…Jamie.”

Jamie looked into her slave’s eyes, and licked her lips.  What had come out was “Mommy”, but Jack had the sinking suspicion that Jamie knew it wasn’t his intention.  “I don’t believe you.”

THWACK!

“Try again?”

“I’m sorry…Miss Vasquez”

Naughty.”

“THWACK!”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…Mistress.”

Not. Good. Enough.”

Jack closed his eyes and hung his head.  “I’m sorry…Mommy.”

“Good baby,” Jamie cooed.  Finally satisfied. “Nanny, put the baby to bed.”

Nanny looked down at Jack, a ragdoll now, and gently cradled him in its arms.  “YeS, MiSs VaSqUez.  InItiAtiNg DiApEr ChAnGe.”

“Override that,” Jamie told her robotic servant before it had even taken step towards the nearest changing table.  “Put him to bed.”

A harsh buzzing emanated from Nanny as it seemed to regard its creator.  “HyGeInE pRoToCoLs ArE sTiLl EnGaGed.  BaBy’S dIaPeR iS nO lOnGeR aT aCcEpTaBlE pArAmEtErS.  RaSh Is ImMiNent.”

Jamie stripped off her remaining clothes and flushed the toilet before stepping into a nearby shower.  “Ignore.  We’ll deal with any rash he has tomorrow.”  A few slight clicks, as if Nanny were clicking her tongue resonated through the bathroom.

“AcKnOwLeDgEd…”

“Goodnight, baby,” Jamie waved from the shower as deliciously hot water poured over her while Jack was carted off to his first night in his crib.  A night in a well-used diaper could do wonders for a big baby’s temperament.

“…From the Mouths of Babes”

It had not been a good night for Jack.  There had been no pillow in his crib, he’d been given no blanket and he had to spend the night in a disgusting and overly saturated diaper.  The smell alone, so thick he could taste it, made it hard to rest.  No thoughts of escape had managed to cross his mind.  Jamie had already made it perfectly clear that running away wouldn’t make him free or independent.  “Getting out” and “getting free” were decidedly different concepts in this matter.

Jamie’s robot thug had been the one to come fetch him when the sun was up.  Wordlessly, Jack found himself carted back to the bathroom where he had been violated in ways that had up until last night been inconceivable to him.  His captor, clad in a fluffy pink bathrobe, greeted him as Nanny pulled down the changing station bolted to the wall and strapped him down.

“Morning, Jack-Jack,” Jamie chirped, obviously well rested.  “Did you sleep well?”  She didn’t bother to wait for a response, instead reaching for the tapes on his ruined Pampers and unceremoniously ripping the tabs off.  Dramatically, Jamie waved her hand in front of her face as she peeled back the front of the padding; the fermented stench of bodily waste rising into the open air.  “Phew!  Stinky baby!”

His captor grabbed a packet of baby wipes from a nearby shelf.  Nanny lifted his legs up into the air while Jamie began the arduous task of wiping him down.  Jack was not proud to admit to himself that despite everything that had transpired thus far, his penis still throbbed a bit when that cold rag dragged across his most intimate of areas.

That same clicking noise from the previous night came from Nanny.  “RaSh DeTeCtEd,” it buzzed. It was true.  Jack had been naked, save for the diaper, since he had submitted to Jamie’s control, and an entire night stewing in his own juices had resulted in a kind of disgusting inverse sunburnt tan line.  Everything that hadn’t been covered was a pasty white while his most private of parts had taken on a glowing pink hue.

“Duly noted, Nanny,” Jamie remarked.  “Put him in the tub.  Do something about that rash.  Redress him.  Meet me in the kitchen.”

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUez,” the machine acknowledged the command.  “InItIaTiNg BaThInG sEqUeNcE.”   The mistress of the manor was already walking away by the time her droid had processed the command.  Jack was snatched up from the hard plastic surface, the remains of his “accidents” not even fully disposed of before he was plopped into a rather large bathtub, hot water pouring out of the faucet.

Left alone with Nanny, Jack’s discomfort began to drastically decrease. Nanny may have looked almost human, but it was still machine, bound to its programming instead of the psychotic whims of whatever queer brain chemistry that gave Jamie her brilliance and twisted tastes.  Jack had spent many an hour naked in front of his computer in the privacy of his own home, and this wasn’t all that different; only this particular computer was scrubbing him down with soapy water and baby shampoo.  Ironically, being buck ass naked as the day he was born would probably be the most “mature” look available to Jack for the foreseeable future.

Unable to resist his curiosity, Jack looked up at Jamie’s tool.  “So is this how it’s gonna be?” He asked the robot.  “She plays ‘Mommy’, tortures me a little bit and you do the heavy lifting?”  Nanny gave no response.  Know-it-all that he was, Jack wasn’t terribly surprised.  Nanny only seemed to respond to Jamie’s commands.

It wasn’t long before Nanny announced, “BaThInG cOmPlEtE,” and a dripping Jack was yanked from the hot water, a bath towel wrapped around his waist, and he was carried back into the nursery he woke up in this morning.  The “nursery,” of course, was a completely to scaled baby’s room, filled with toys, a crib, rocking chair, and sturdy and fully stocked changing table.  Jack turned his head to the side while Nanny laid him down on the changing table and slid the next of what was sure to be many gigantic Pampers he’d be wearing under his rump.

He chewed, thoughtfully on his thumb while the android began rubbing a soothing paste on his butt, causing the rash he’d developed to stop itching quite so much.  Jamie’s personal “product tester” couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something missing in this otherwise perfectly recreated baby’s room.   Something was definitely off.

The answer came to him soon enough.  Nanny finished diapering him, his privates now even pastier than the rest of him thanks to heavy coating of baby powder and diaper cream coating them, and pulled him up to a sitting position.  Jack braced himself for whatever infantile outfit the droid was going to pull out to dress him in and raised his arms so that some form of apparel could be yanked over his head. Instead, the mannequin servant produced a single baby blue bonnet and placed it on Jack’s head, tying it beneath his chin.

Next came…nothing. Absolutely nothing.  That’s when it hit Jack.  This nursery had everything, toys, crib, changing table…but not clothes.  There was no dresser.  There was no closet.  The only thing resembling clothes for him, Jack realized, were the diapers he was forced to wear and the bonnet on his head. No “Waitwaitwaitwait!” Jack protested while Nanny slid him onto its hip.  “What gives?  Nanny.  Nanny stop!”

Interestingly enough, the robot did stop.  For the third time since he had arrived, the oversized baby heard the click-clucking sound, rather like an old computer that was having trouble downloading something on a dial up modem.

“WhAt DoEs ThE bAbY wAnT?”

“More clothes?” Jack asked.  A whirring noise emanated from Nanny’s head.

“DiApEr iS cLeAn,” the human-like machine droned.  “ChAnGe NoT nEeDeD.”

Jack shook his head.  “Not a diaper you stupid machine.  Clothes.  The kind that cover up my diaper.  The kind of clothes that a diaper is supposed to protect.”

More clicking and clucking.  This time for much longer.  Jack was worried that the robot would drop him when it shuddered briefly.

“FiLe NoT fOuNd.”

***************************************************************

Jamie quietly munched on her toast in her breakfast nook, waiting patiently for Nanny and Jack.  She relished the dry crunch of the lightly buttered bread.  Perfect.  Just perfect.  Soon it would be better.  She loved eating in front of her new babies, savoring each bite, implicitly communicating to her diapered men as they were spoon fed pureed mush that such simple delicacies were out of reach.

Minutes passed.  Then more minutes. Then more. What was taking Nanny so long? The boy wasn’t that dirty.  Jamie considered leaving the last bite of toast untouched, having planned to finish her breakfast in front of her boy toy.  Practicality demanded, however, that she finished, and so she popped the last bit into her mouth and chewed.  Her babies were subject to her timetable and not the other way around.  Crumbs on the plate would be enough to deliver the intended message.

“Nanny?!” Jamie called out after she downed a small glass of orange juice.  “Is everything alright?”

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUez,” her faithful android buzzed back as it carried Jack into the kitchen.  As could be expected, her new baby was pouting a bit; she could see it in his eyes.  A night in a full diaper typically showed her boys exactly where they stood, but it wasn’t unusual for there to be a subdued and lingering resentment.  Jamie wasn’t particularly worried about this.  A little resistance could be a good thing for the longevity of the game.  Outright defiance was to be quashed at every turn, but there was no harm in a fussy baby.  Besides, she reasoned, were she in his Pampers, she might be a little cross at the situation too.

Jamie walked over to Jack and gave him a peck on the cheek, noticing he jumped ever so slightly at her touch.  She’d have to give him a few extra orgasms today.  More rewards, less punishments.  If he didn’t learn to start liking his new status, she might have to give him the final dose of Dominance and end the game in time for her to find another Jake, or Jared, or Jamal.   All her calculations were certain the right one would be a “J” name.  “How is my baby?” she asked.  As expected, no response.

“Nanny, if you please,” she motioned to the high chair.

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUez.”

The genius woman meandered to the cabinet where she kept all of her “baby” food, and withdrew a jar.  “Hmmm,” she read the label.  “Peaches.  That’ll work.”  When she turned around, Jack-Jack had been successfully strapped in; a tray clicked in place and a bib tied around his neck.  She opened the jar and inhaled the accompanying aroma as if it were a fine wine that needed to breathe a little.

“Ready for your num-nums baby boy?” she asked, not particularly caring what his answer was.  Yes or no, he was eating these peaches.  The real question was whether or not she’d need to say “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby…” before hand.

Jack huffed a bit, but then looked at her, rubber tipped spoon already in hand.  “Yes, Mommy.”  Jamie was fairly certain that “Mommy” hadn’t been what he had meant to say that time, but she was willing to let it slide.  He opened his mouth wide, arms still crossed, and allowed her to shovel the first bit of mostly solid food onto his tongue.

“Good baby,” she praised.  The ritual continued as expected.  She’d scoop up some diced peaches, he’d compliantly but not enthusiastically open his mouth, and she’d feed him.  The ritual continued like this for several mouthfuls, Jamie remembering to add in “Good baby” with each successive mouthful.  An expert at reading people’s eyes, Jamie saw the resistance in Jack’s eyes diminish with each repetition.  Hunger was also a good motivator for cooperation, and jarred fruit wasn’t so far from adulthood that her captive’s dignity would override his comfort.  Babysteps. Babysteps.

The meal finished, the young woman took away the jar of peaches and spoon off of Jack’s feeding tray, handing them off to Nanny to properly dispose of.  “Good baby,” Jamie cooed. “You ate your peaches all up.” Time for a reward. “And because you were such a good baby…” she paused, and licked her lips. Jamie loved the look of realization and panic flash across Jack’s face.  The boy was smart.  (Not as smart as her, but who was?)  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby makes cummies in his diapee.”

Her man baby shuddered as he was brought to the point of no return in an instant; his hands balling up to fists and pounding on the tray of the highchair.  Within moments his whole body was a shade of deep red from embarrassment, the barest hint of a sob welling up from his throat.  Was he?  Was he crying?  That was so adorable!  “Good baby,” she whispered into his ear before giving him the faintest peck. She’d remember this image later tonight when she was satisfying her own needs.

Jamie walked from the breakfast nook back into the kitchen and fetched a bottle of apple juice.  Wordlessly, she handed it to Jack.  The implication clear.  Suspiciously, he eyed the bottle before turning his gaze to her.  She sighed. “Mommy wuvs it when-“ the boy was drinking before she even finished the command phrase.  “Good baby.”

As Jack-Jack gulped down the apple juice, Jamie took out her tiny- even by tablet standards- flat screen and began entering more calculations and data into it.  A pleasant “ping” greeted her ears upon entering the new data.  But upon reviewing the readout, she was less than completely satisfied with the end result. Seventy-five percent?  She’d had worse candidates, but she’d definitely had better.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Jack’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Jamie turned to face her oversized toddler.  “Excuse me?”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘baby’?”

A sly, sinister smile crept across Jamie’s face.  Oh how she loved this game. They all went through this eventually, even if Jamie hadn’t calculated that this conversation to happen for at least a few more days.  “What do you mean, baby?”

Jack actually had the gumption to roll his eyes at her.  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“But you are a baby, sweetie,” Jamie cooed at him.  “You look like one.”

Jack looked down at himself and frowned. “No I don’t,” he scoffed.  Odd.  His tone wasn’t as pouty; as desperate or in denial as the others before him.  It wasn’t a big problem.

Jamie took a single perfectly manicured finger and poked Jack under the tray. “Oh really?  Babies don’t wear diapees?”

“Plenty of people besides babies wear diapers,” Jack retorted, ignoring her playful prodding.

She had a counter for this line of logic.  It paid to think ahead and have an absurd amount of disposable income.  “But not Pampers…-”

“Which you either paid a butt load of money for,” Jack cut her off, “or invented some kind of enlarging ray, or something.”
Seen that coming, had he?  No matter.“Oh sweetie, what does it matter where Mommy gets your diapees from?  You’re still wearing them.”

Jack was unfazed.  He did seem like a child, sitting there with his arms crossed.  Unfortunately it was the child who no longer believed in the tooth fairy, not the child desperately clinging to hope that they would win.  “Yeah, and nothing else.  The bonnet doesn’t count either.”  His tone wasn’t angry.  It wasn’t sad.  It wasn’t happy either.  It was just sort of blasé.

“…beg your pardon…?” Jamie’s nostril’s flared.  Now she felt off her game.  This wasn’t at all how the arguments of circular logic usually went with her toys.  This wasn’t how they were supposed to go.

Jack cocked his head to the side.  Then, with deliberate slowness, as if talking to someone very dense, he said, “How many babies have you actually seen that are dressed up in nothing but a diaper and a goddamn baby bonnet these days?” Jamie rapidly searched her own nearly photographic memory.  Damn it.  He was right.
Jamie played off her man baby’s accusations with a haughty laugh. “Mommy doesn’t want you or anyone else to go thinking that you’re a big boy.”  Turning the focus back around on him was key.  “Bad habits get formed that way and widdle babies get stupid ideas about their station.”

“Look,” the diapered man sighed. “I don’t mean to criticize.  I’m sure you’ve got lots of experience in being a psycho cunt that kidnaps people and puts them back into diapers.  That part you’ve got down to a literal science.  But would it kill you to get me a onesie or something?”

The thought of dressing her little darlings in anything other than the bare essentials had never occurred to her. “A onesie?” she echoed, dumbly.

“Yeah, you know?”, Jack pressed. “Kinda like a T-shirt but for babies? Covers the diaper?  Snaps down at the bottom between the legs?”

Jamie began to run permutations in her mind. “I suppose…” What harm could it do?  But why was he asking for this?  Most of her “widdle babies” only wanted three things: food, sex, and toys.  Where did clothes come into this equation?

“Or even a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it,” her captive lectured and complained from his seat.  “Winnie-the-Pooh or something.  I’d still look like a big baby if you made me dress like that.  With just the diaper and this thing on my head, I look like some kind of fetishist or something; not a baby.”

There was a lull.  Like two generals on the field of battle, or two chess players on opposite sides of the table, they stared at each other.  Then, the lad made his move. “Why do you want me to be a baby anyways?”  Jack broke the silence.

“Oh-ho-ho.  Clever boy,” Infinitech’s founder chortled, “but that’s something Mommy can’t tell you why.  You being my baby boy is like a birthday wish.  If I tell you, it won’t come true.  Besides, you’re not smart enough to understand.”  Her face became a mask of warning.  He was getting very close to earning himself a smacked bottom and an impromptu naptime, but not before she put itching powder down the front of his diaper.

“No, I mean…seriously,” Jack asked, “what’s with all the baby stuff?” His expression softened.  He wasn’t trying to win a verbal joust or work his way out of a circular argument that he couldn’t win. He was just asking.  And part of that disturbed Jamie more. “You’ve got an honest to god android, that I’m betting you invented, and you’re using her to tote me around like a toddler.  You’ve got mind controlling nanites, and you’re using them to make me piss myself.”  A strange and bitter laugh tumbled out of his mouth.  “You are so mad sciencing all wrong.”

“Oh really?” one of the richest women in the world asked, putting her hand on her hip.  “Then what would you suggest I do, then, if you’re so smart?”

Jack shook his head.  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said.  “You start treating me a little better.  Get me some clothes, and I’ll tell you how to make more money in one day than Infinitech probably makes in a year.  If I’m wrong you can-”

“I can do anything to you that I want already,” Jamie cut him off.  She was in control.  Not him.  She was the adult and he was the baby.

“Yeah,” her big baby admitted, “but can you do it to me knowing that you’ve proven me wrong and that I deserve it?”  Jamie stared at him.  The gall. Such a know-it-all.  His personnel file and psych analysis had indicated these traits as well, but she didn’t think they’d be so strong.

Clothes. The young mistress entered some more variables into her personal computer, plus a few personal parameters, and looked at her screen.  Eighty-five percent?  From some clothes?  She could get a ten percent increase in output just with some clothing?  This could be a trick.  How could it be a trick?

“They’re going to have to be baby clothes, though,” she told Jack.

Jack nodded, “Deal.”

  • Like 1
Link to comment

Create an account or sign in to comment

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

Create an account

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

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...