The Regression Center - Chapter 13 posted on 2/8/24

[Victoria Green Books]

This is chapter one of an ongoing, collaborative story written by me and my friend, BoysRBabies. We are writing alternating chapters—I wrote this first one. We will publish the whole story here, posting a new chapter every week or two. 

BoysRBabies posts fantastic captions of forced regression on Tumblr. 

I publish stories of diapers and domination on Smashwords.

Hope you all enjoy it!

 

Chapter 1 

Tyler swerved his Range Rover around a slow-moving clump of cars. They clogged up the fast lane. And the middle lane. And would have blocked him in the slow lane, too, if he'd let them. Didn't people have any place to be on a Monday morning? He shot the pack leader his best disapproving look as he passed. The middle-aged man gripped the steering wheel of his middle-aged sedan. Hands at 10 and 2. A dopey half-smile on his face. Completely oblivious.

"We won't get there any faster if we're dead," Monica said. Her knuckles were pale white against the black leather console. 

So dramatic. Always so dramatic. 

"We won't get there at all at this rate," he said. 

She shook her head.

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

"It's obviously not nothing." 

He sighed and eased back on the throttle, shifting back into the middle lane. "There. Happy?" 

Her eyes had that watery, verge-of-tears look. The look that could spill over into full-blown crying if he said the wrong thing. Or if he didn't say the right thing. Or didn't say anything at all.

He reached over and covered her hand with his. "A few days of Mai Thais and sugar sand and you'll feel better. Promise." 

She slid her hand out from under his and put it in her lap. "You think that will fix anything?"

"Who said anything needs to be fixed?" 

She stared ahead silently.  

"Come on, Mon? Martinique? St. Lucia? Making love on the beach?" He leaned closer and grinned. Maybe we can try that thing again. With my finger?" 

Her frown deepened. "So we aren't even going to talk about it."

He pulled back into his seat. "Seriously? You're blowing the whole thing out of proportion. It was an offhand remark. No big deal. Just guy talk. Besides, you know, maybe you shouldn't…" He shrugged. 

"I shouldn't what?" Her tone was icy.

Careful. 

"I'm just saying, if you hadn't been listening in on my conversation in the first place, you wouldn't be so upset." 

She laughed. A shrill, short bark of a laugh. God, he hated that sound. 

"So this is my fault, Tyler?"

"There's no fault here, but yeah, maybe you should respect my privacy a bit more." He pulled off the highway onto the exit ramp. A few minutes later than he'd hoped to be, but still on time as long as they didn't hit any traffic.

"Do you have any idea how loud you are on the phone? Stomping around the house, yelling at people? How am I supposed to know if you're talking to one of your minions or Connor, or—" she stopped herself and put her hands up in surrender. "Doesn't matter."

He suppressed a smile. She was coming around. She always did. She just needed to vent. Get it out of her system. Then they could move on. "Like I said, let's just enjoy the trip, then we can talk about all of it again when we get home. If you still want to." 

"Fine."

Her tone was flat. She stared straight ahead, hands in her lap. Far from a victory, but he'd take a brief ceasefire when he could get one. Especially these days. And who knows, maybe she really would forget about it.

The salty tang of ocean air seeped in through the vents. He glanced down at the GPS. Almost there.

Park the car. 
Board the ship. 
Make sure their bags were in the room. 

…and that was it. Nothing more to do after that. He could almost taste the gin and tonic now. 

He pulled into a massive parking lot five minutes later and began working his way down the rows. 

"Aren't you going to park?" she asked, pointing to several empty spots they passed. 

"Connor says he's--"

"Connor?"

Shit. Should have waited until they were parked and standing outside. She wouldn't make a scene in front of Connor. Or at least not in front of Kari.

"I told him and Kari about the fabulous deal we got."

"They're coming with us?"

"They've been needing to get away too. You know, after the acquisition and all that stuff? One thing led to another, and they decided to pick up tickets too." 

"So even your little apology trip was self-centered." She laughed. "You're making this so much easier. I guess I should be grateful for that." 

"Easier?" He pulled in next to Connor's Audi. She sure didn't seem to be making anything easier on him. 

No response. 

"Mon?" 

She pulled out her phone and began texting someone. 

"Hey, listen to me. How is taking you on a cruise with our friends self-centered? It would be self-centered not to tell our friends about this." It also wasn't an 'apology trip,' he wanted to say. But if it made her feel better to think about it that way, so be it. 

"Your friends," she said, not looking up from her text. "Not mine."

 Kari rapped on his window and smiled. 

"One sec," Tyler said. "She just needs to wrap this up." He glared over at her. "I guess." 

She slipped the phone back into her purse.

"Done now?"

She nodded. Her expression was unreadable. 

"Play nice," Tyler said. "It's gonna be a long week if you don't." 

He got out of the car and gave Kari a hug. Connor was pulling luggage out of the trunk. 

"Why'd you park way out here?" Tyler asked him. 

Connor grinned. "Boo-hoo. Leg day yesterday, princess?" 

"There's a bus," Kari said. "Right, baby?" 

"Right," Connor said. "Every few minutes. Takes us right to the boat." He closed the trunk. "Here it comes." 

Tyler turned to see a bus wending its way through the parking lot. It looked more like a school bus than the type of bus you usually see rental car companies and hotels using. 

Monica got out of the car and stood next to him. "Hi, Kari." 

"Hey, hon," Kari said back. 

Best friends they were not, but the two had gotten along better recently. If nothing else, he suspected they bitched about him and Connor. Which was fine. Or at least preferable to listening to all of her complaints himself. 

He popped the trunk and began stacking their luggage on the pavement. 
Connor stood there frowning.

"What?" Tyler asked. 

Connor shrugged. "Bus just passed a whole bunch of people." 

The bus had skipped several groups of passengers, some of whom stood by their cars, looking at the departing vehicle in confusion. 

"Whatever," Tyler said. "As long as it stops for us." He'd bought the all-inclusive package, so it damn well better stop. He closed the trunk. 

A moment later, the bus did stop for them. A woman stepped out. Tall, with dark hair pulled into a tight bun. "Monica Howard?" 

Monica smiled. "That's me." 

Well that was odd. He'd arranged the whole trip. Why would they know—or care—who she was? He stepped forward. "You have someone to help load our luggage?" 

She walked past him without so much as a glance. 

He stomped around in front of her, putting himself between her and Monica. "Hey? Hello? What's your name?" 

"You have all of the paperwork?" the woman asked Monica. 

"Paperwork?" Tyler snapped. "That's all been done for weeks. You aren't listening to me." He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Hello? Paying customer here." 

Monica handed the woman a sheaf of papers. 

"I want to speak to your manager. What's your employee numb…" the words died in Tyler's throat. "What is all that?" He turned towards the woman. "What's going on here?" 

"Tyler, this is Holly," Monica said.  

Holly looked at him for the first time, then back at Monica again. No service worker had ever looked at him like that before. A brief, piercing glare, followed by…complete disinterest. 

"Okay," he said. "So what? Are you the bus driver or…" 

"No," Holly said. 

"Someone explain what the fuck is going on," he snapped. 

"Holly is from ABC," Monica said. 

"Is that some sort of holding company for the cruise line?" He looked down at his watch. "One hour. The ship departs in one hour. Someone better—"

"You might not know the ABC name, but you know what we do," Holly said. 

He throws up his hands. "Oh, it speaks. Finally." 

He expected a glare. Or better yet, a retreat and an apology, as she realized who she'd pissed off. Instead, more disinterest. 

"ABC runs male regression centers across the United States and Canada." 

"Male regression centers?" He vaguely remembered reading about them in an article a few years back. In fact, it had been all over the news for a bit. Highly controversial. And easy fodder for Buzzfeed listicles and late-night talk hosts. Putting grown men in diapers and bonnets and calling it therapy? Sounded like some touchy-feely, West Coast bullshit.  

"That's what I said," Holly replied.  

"Okay. So what?" He tapped his watch and looked at Monica. 

"We're not going on a cruise," Monica said quietly. "You're going to a regression center."

Tyler laughed. "Connor? This was your idea, right? Where's the camera?" He looked around. Probably Mark. Or that cousin of Connor's—Jimmy? Johnny? Something like that. That guy was constantly posting stuff like this on Youtube. 

Connor stared at him, his face ashen. 

"Dude, jokes over," Tyler said. His voice was barely audible, each word coming out slowly and with great effort. "You got your laughs." 

"It's not a joke," Monica said. 

He whirled on her. "You're crazy if you think I'm going anywhere. And dumber than I thought." 

She winced. 

"You're coming with me to the center, Tyler," Holly said. 

"Oh yeah?" He eyed her up and down. "Hope you brought some muscle." 

"I did." 

God, still so calm. Like she'd done this a thousand times. He wanted to scream at her. Shake her. Get some sort of normal human response. 

"But I hope we won't need it," she continued. She held up a piece of paper from the sheaf Monica had given her. "Do you know what this is?" 

"I'm going to take your ass to court, lady. Make me miss my cruise?" He shook his head. "I'll fucking own your company. You'll be working for me in a year." He spun on Monica. "And you--"

Holly cleared her throat. "It's called a Blue Slip. It remands you to our custody for a period of not less than one month." 

"Let me see that," he said. He snatched the paper out of her hand and scanned the legalese for a few seconds, then crumpled it up and then tossed it to the ground. 

"I think we both know that's not how that works," Holly said. "We have copies on hand at the center. You can read them there if you want. But I assure you, all the i's have been dotted and t's crossed. The request received the full committee's support." 

"Committee? What committee?" 

"We can take about that later. It's time to get on the bus."

Monica had tears in her eyes. She stepped closer, arms open.

"Unh uh." He shook his head slowly. "You stay away from me." He looked over at Connor. "Bro, you gotta get me out of this. Please?" 

Connor just stared. 

Holly took his elbow. "Up into the bus now, okay? Pretty soon you'll be settled in and all of this stress will be behind you." 

She guided him towards the bus. He walked along beside her, mind reeling.

The bus doors swung open. He turned around. "My suitcase. I need my clothes." 

"That's all been taken care of, Tyler," Holly said. Her tone was soft now. Almost soothing. 

"But—" 

"Don't worry about that. Don't worry about anything." 

Tyler glanced at Monica one last time, then stepped up into the bus. 
 

[kerry]

I like the way this is starting! Curious about Connor's reaction, but I sort of suspect that this is not his first encounter with ABC...

[D503]

Nice.

[quietlyhumiliated]

This is a good story, and I'm looking forward to more!

[Victoria Green Books]

Thanks @kerry @D503 and @quietlyhumiliated! The next chapter will dive into some diapery goodness - I promise

[Eagle0769]

Nice start I think? So what did she over hear him say that got her so upset?

[Little Giammy]

Very interesting start. I'm waiting for the next chapters

[Victoria Green Books]

@Eagle0769 - Thanks for the feedback. You'll get an answer to your question in a subsequent chapter - I promise

Glad you're enjoying it so far, @Little Giammy ! I plan to post another chapter this weekend. 

[Little Giammy]

wonderful

 

[Victoria Green Books]

Chapter 2

As he entered, Tyler took in the soft, pastel colors of the seats, and the pictures of flowers and teddy bears that covered the interior walls. It looked like a bus for nursery schoolers!

He glanced at the driver, a portly, middle-aged woman who was smiling at him broadly, and he noticed as well that there were two more women sitting at the back of the bus. They were dressed plainly in white tops and long skirts, and both of them were built like fridges. Tyler stopped in his tracks, goggling at them. He didn’t consider himself an especially strong man, but he wasn’t weak either; he certainly would have thought he could overpower any woman easily. But looking at the large, matronly but muscular women smirking at him from the back seats, he wasn’t so sure anymore. This must be what Holly had meant by muscle. They looked like a pair of no-nonsense nannies, and he didn’t like the way they were eyeing him up one bit.

Then he jumped as Holly swatted his bottom lightly. “No dawdling, Tyler,” she said. “You can take a seat anywhere.”

With a nervous look at the giants sitting at the back, Tyler slipped into a seat somewhere halfway down the bus, making sure to pick the side furthest away from Monica, Connor and Kari, so he wouldn’t have to look at them. Then Holly suddenly leant down over him, and he found that he was staring right into her cleavage.

His mouth opened, but he was too taken aback by the sudden view to say anything, and it was only a second later when he heard a click down beside him, that he realized she was fastening his seatbelt for him. His face reddened.

"Hey!" he said angrily, but Holly just acted as though she hadn’t heard, and took the seat next to him.

Tyler gritted his teeth. He wanted to complain – she couldn’t treat him like this! He was a grown man for fuck’s sake. She couldn’t just pat his butt and treat him like a child! But he knew he’d just sound stupid and petulant if he did. Don’t pat my bottom! I can do my seatbelt up myself! He really would sound like a little boy.

The engine rumbled, and the bus began to move. They drove round the edge of the car park, and as they passed through the exit, Tyler looked out of the window towards where the others were. He thought he could see three people still standing by the road, watching him leave, but he couldn’t be sure. Then they turned a corner, and the carpark was out of sight.

“So what exactly is all this?” he asked, turning to Holly. She was filing her nails. “And what is this committee anyway?”

"I'll tell you all about it when we arrive, Tyler,” she said, without even looking up.

"I want to know now!” he insisted. “Where is this ‘regression center’ anyway? Can’t you even tell me where we’re going?”

Holly rolled her eyes. “It’s not very far away,” she said. “Like I already told you, you’ll get to learn everything when we arrive at the center. But I can tell you’re going to be fussy, so I’ll have the bus driver put something on to keep you entertained in the meantime, okay?”

And before he could even answer, she leaned out into the aisle. “Driver!” she called up the bus. “Tyler’s getting a bit cranky! Can you play some music for him, please?”

The woman driving the bus laughed indulgently, and Tyler felt himself going red again.

"Happily!" the middle-aged lady called back. “My little nephew loves this one, and it’s my husband’s favorite!”

There was a crackling sound as the speaker behind the driver’s cubicle came to life, and a lilting, bouncing tune filled the bus. Tyler cringed at the childishness of it, and then, just as he recognized the melody, a syrupy-sweet female voice began to sing.

"The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round! The wheels on the bus go round and round, allll day long!”

Tyler could only sit there stunned. Did they really expect him to be entertained by The Wheels on the Bus?!

"Come on, everybody!” the singer called. Her tone was nauseatingly cheerful, “Join in! The horn on the bus goes honk, honk, honk! Honk, honk, honk! Honk, honk, honk! The horn on the bus goes honk, honk, honk, allll day long!”

"I don’t want to listen to this!” Tyler blurted. He was blushing fiercely. This was ridiculous! Did she say this was her husband’s favorite song?

"Don't be grumpy, Tyler,” Holly said. She’d taken a file out of her bag and was going through it with a pen, ticking boxes. “The driver put on a lovely song for you to sing along to. But if you’d rather just sit quietly, that’s fine too.”

Tyler stared at her. He couldn’t get over his shock. He couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had spoken to him like this! He took a deep breath and looked out of the window, trying his best to ignore the infuriating, babyish music filling his ears.

"The wipers on the bus go swish, swish, swish! Swish, swish, swish! Swish, swish, swish! The wipers on the bus go swish, swish, swish, allll day long!”

When they arrived at this regression center, he’d sort everything out, he told himself. Maybe there’d even be a man he could talk to instead of all these crazy women.

"The baby on the bus goes waah, waah, waah! Waah, waah, waah! Waah, waah, waah! The baby on the bus goes waah, waah, waah, alllll day long!”

They drove on for half an hour or so, and Tyler felt as though he was slowly being driven mad by the stupid toddler songs the bus driver was playing one after the other. But then, finally, mercifully, the music stopped as the bus pulled in to park outside a large, one-floor building with the enormous letters ‘ABC’ mounted above the entrance in bright primary colors. It looked exactly like a daycare, except seeing a daycare didn’t normally fill Tyler with a sense of foreboding. Unless it was because Monica was there to start ‘hinting’ about how much she was ready to have kids.

He was so distracted looking at the building that, before he knew it, Holly had leaned over him again to undo his seatbelt.

He scowled, but said nothing. He got to his feet and followed Holly out of the bus, glancing nervously back at the two fridge-sized nannies taking up the rear. The bus driver waved at him cheerily as he left, her eyes twinkling with amusement, but Tyler ignored her.

They walked up to the building, and as he passed through the doors, he was immediately assaulted by a strong smell of baby powder, and the faintest whiff of ammonia.

Then he saw the enormous billboard on the wall opposite him, and he stopped dead.

It showed a man, if you could call him that, bent over at the waist and peeking at them between his legs. A canary-yellow bonnet framed his blushing face, and from the waist down he wore nothing but a large disposable diaper.

Above the man were the words, “Welcome to ABC”, and beneath him read, “Where men learn their rightful place!”

Tyler felt as though he couldn’t look away. It was like seeing a car accident. How could someone have ever agreed to pose for a picture like that? There was no amount of money that he would ever take that would compel him to put on an adult diaper and a bonnet and grin at the camera from between his legs like he was some kind of oversized toddler. Did that guy have no shame? And what did they mean, “where men learn their rightful place”? What was this place?

Holly took him by the arm and guided him away, through a side-door and into what seemed to be her office. It all looked normal, except…

Tyler felt his stomach lurch. Sitting in the corner on top of a little absorbent mat was a small, lime-green training potty, exactly like the kind that toddlers used. Something about seeing it in this office, so out of place, sent a shiver down his spine.

Holly walked around her desk and took a seat. “Before we get started,” she began, and she pointed at the little plastic potty, “do you need to go?”

"Go?" Tyler asked, confused.

"Tinkle or boom-boom,” she explained. “Do you need to go potty?”

"What?!" he spluttered. He felt himself going red again. How could she ask that with a straight face?! “No!”

"Are you sure?” she asked, a slight smile tugging on her lips. “You don’t want one last potty trip?”

"I am not using that thing!” Tyler insisted. He actually did feel a faint pressure in his bladder, but this woman was insane if she thought he was going to piss in a toddler’s potty!

Holly just shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, and she gestured for him to take a seat in front of her.

He sat down apprehensively, and took a breath to compose himself. “Alright, first of all, what is this committee thing?” he demanded.

"The Regression Committee,” Holly said, “is a panel of highly-qualified women who oversee the running of regression centers across the country. They look at each and every application to decide whether or not the man in question is truly in need of regression therapy.” She let out a little laugh. “There aren’t very many rejections!”

"And why do they think I need ‘regression therapy’, whatever that is?” Tyler asked angrily.

"Well, it was your wife who signed you up, of course,” Holly clarified. “Then the committee does a little background check, maybe asks one or two of the women who know you if they think you’re really cut out for being a big boy, and then they come to a decision about whether or not you deserve to be an adult.”

Tyler was stunned. “Whether I… Listen here, I run my own fucking business, okay? Even if you do have some legal right to keep me here for however long, when I get out I can make life seriously difficult for y…”

"By the end of the program,” Holly cut in impatiently, “you’ll be an obedient little boy who does whatever his Mommy tells him, and no threat whatsoever to either me or the company.”

"My...My Mommy?!”

“That’s right,” said Holly. “Monica.”

“Mon is not my Mommy!” Tyler shouted. Then he cringed as he realized how stupid he’d just sounded.

“Settle down,” Holly said gently. “There’s no need to throw a tantrum.”

“I wasn’t… I’m not!” Tyler seethed. How dare this dumb bitch talk to him this way!

"Here,” said Holly in a pacifying voice, and she reached under the desk and hefted a small television screen onto the desk, facing him, and turned to plug it into her computer. “I have a little introductory video for you to watch.” She was facing half-away from him, but Tyler was sure he could see her smirking. “This will help you understand what to expect from your time at the center.”

The screen flickered on. There were two women, a pretty, big-chested lady in a plain dress who looked to be in her early forties, and a girl who might have been barely out of her teens, dressed up in a sexy schoolgirl outfit. They were both standing over a large changing table where an adult man was lying. He was naked except for the puffy, and clearly soaked, adult diaper bulging between his thighs. The camera looked out from where his head would be, as if from his point of view, and the very edges of the screen were obscured by the trim of a yellow bonnet, so that from Tyler’s perspective it was as though he was peeking out from under a bonnet of his own.

“Hi, sweetie!” cooed the older woman, and she gave the camera a little wave. “My name is Miss Susan, and I’m here to tell you all about ABC! But first… let’s get this icky diapee off your bum-bum, shall we?”

She reached down and deftly undid the tapes of his diaper – the man on the screen’s diaper, Tyler told himself, not his. But as she pulled the man’s wet diaper out from underneath his bottom, Tyler couldn’t help but feel like it was him on that changing table. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Becky, could you hold this for me?” Miss Susan asked the younger girl, passing her the used diaper.

The girl called Becky took it, then she pinched her nose and held it at arm’s length with a look of disgust on her face. “Diapers are yuck!” she said emphatically.

“They certainly are,” agreed Miss Susan, working at the man’s crotch with wet wipes, “but babies can’t help being yucky. And the same is true for boys! Really it’s only fitting that they wear diapers too.”

Becky nodded fervently, while Tyler watched in disbelief. It’s only fitting that boys wear diapers? What kind of new-age feminist bullshit was this?!

Miss Susan looked up into the camera with a kindly smile. “At ABC, we believe in the importance of diapers when it comes to breaking down a man’s ego. They’re a perfect symbol of helplessness and babyishness.” She slid a fresh diaper under the man’s rear and began to tape it up. “But of course,” she went on, smiling, “as you’ve seen, they’re not just for show.” She nodded at Becky, who jiggled the soggy, heavy-looking diaper, clearly full to the brim with pee. “You’ll be having plenty of accidents in them too.”

“Na-na-na-na-na!” Becky taunted in a sing-song voice, pointing into the camera. “You’re gonna wet your diapers!”

“That’s right,” said Miss Susan. “And it’s not just wetting.” She smiled and looked directly into the camera again. “You’ll be pooping in your diapers too, mister.”

“Ewww!” the younger girl exclaimed.

Miss Susan nodded sagely in agreement, as if Becky had just said something extremely profound. “That’s right, Becky. ‘Ewww’ is definitely the right word for it. He’s going to be such a little stinky-pants!”

“So he really will be just like a baby?” Becky asked, sounding both amused and disgusted.

The older woman cocked her head thoughtfully. “Kind of…” she said slowly, “but babies eventually grow up and get potty trained.” She smiled broadly at the camera. “You’ll never use a toilet again, sweetie!”

Her tone was bright and cheerful, but Tyler felt a powerful uneasiness at her words. He knew this couldn’t be real, that it had to be some kind of joke, but the certainty with which she spoke was unsettling. He’d never use a toilet again? Yeah right. As if.

“In fact,” Miss Susan continued, “there are a lot of things you’ll never be doing again.”

“Like tawking wike a big boy,” Becky taunted.

“That’s right,” said Miss Susan. “We don’t want you using grown-up words, do we sweetie? That’s if you’re talking at all, because you can bet you’ll be spending most of your time sucking on your thumb or your paci, or even your toes! You’ll probably be far too busy sucking on your soother to make talkies!”

"Either that, or he’ll be too busy playing with his toys,” Becky mocked, miming the shaking of a rattle. “Baby blocks and jingly keys are far more appropriate for him than violent video games or R-rated movies.”

"They certainly are,” Miss Susan agreed. “No more adult films for you,” she told the camera, “especially the ones where you get to peek at women’s boobies! If you want entertainment, you’ll have your toys, and you’ll get to dance and sing along to all your favorite songs, or even listen to story time! ABC knows plenty of fun ways for you to spend your days!”

"But it’s not all fun and games,” said Becky, and there was an especially nasty edge to her voice. “You’re here to learn a lesson, little boy. We’ve got all sorts of classes to teach you how to be the biggest, bestest baby you can possibly be. And if you step out of line… You might just find yourself over someone’s knee!”

Miss Susan chuckled and nodded. “That’s for sure. Boys just can’t help being naughty! But I’m afraid that’s all from us today. We’ve got tummies to fill and bottoms to wipe.”

"And you’ve got a date with a big, crinkly diaper,” said Becky with a grin.

“Enjoy the rest of your life!” Miss Susan said earnestly.

"Yeah!” Becky sneered, “Enjoy being turned into an overgrown baby!”

"Bye-bye!” they said together, and then the video cut to black.

There were a few seconds of silence, and then, “There’s no way this is real,” Tyler said. He spoke forcefully, but there was a hint of desperation in his voice. “You’re just trying to scare me. I mean really, what the fuck was that?! This is crazy! There’s no way a bunch of girls can actually turn a man into a baby!”

"Well if it really is impossible, then I guess you’ve got nothing to worry about, right?” Holly asked, smirking. “Now come along. It’s time to meet your personal caregiver and get you into your uniform.”

Feeling numb, Tyler got to his feet and followed Holly out of the door. None of that was real, he told himself again. He didn’t know how they’d got a man to agree to wear a wet diaper like that, but there was no way he would be doing anything of the sort. Of that, he was absolutely certain.

He followed Holly further into the building, and he thought he could hear faint noises, like shrieks of laughter and at least one person who sounded like they were bawling their eyes out. Holly went through another door, and Tyler followed, conscious that the two enormous nanny-like women were following close behind him.

He’d expected another office, and hopefully a man he could have a reasonable conversation with, but with just one step inside it was clear it was nothing of the sort.

"Hi, cutie!” a woman greeted him in a cooing voice. “Nice to meet you! I’m going to be your personal carer from now on, okay? You can call me Miss Rosie.” She was a little shorter than Holly, and blonde, with a generous chest that was shown off by the bodice of her flowery Summer dress. She looked bright and happy, but there was an almost hungry look in her eyes that sent alarm bells off in Tyler’s head. “I’m sure we’re going to be the best of friends!”

Tyler flushed angrily. If this bitch was going to talk to him like he was a toddler as well, then he’d had enough. No more Mr Nice Guy.

But he was distracted for a moment by what he saw behind her. It was a changing table, just like the one he’d seen in the video. In fact, it was the exact same room. And that wasn’t all. Laid out on the table was an enormous, white disposable diaper, a baby blue t-shirt with the ABC logo on the front, a canary-yellow bonnet, and a pair of white socks. On the floor were a pair of trainers with Velcro straps. It was all just his size.

“Hop on up, sweetie,” said Miss Rosie brightly, patting the open seat of the huge white diaper. “Baby Ty-Ty needs to get his diapee on! Yes hims does!”

[Victoria Green Books]

Chapter 3

"No way am I putting that on," Tyler said. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at his watch. Two hours and the Majesty of the Seas would be pulling out of the harbor.  

"No?" she asked.  "And why is that?"

"Huh?" 

“Why don’t you want to wear your diaper?”

“Seriously?”

She settled into a chair and gestured to another seat across from her. "Have a seat and we can talk this out." 

“There’s nothing to talk out, lady.” 

“Would you prefer to just get changed now? We will have plenty of time to talk after you’re all comfy in your diaper.”

He dropped into the chair. "Fine. Let’s talk. Ever hear of ‘unlawful detainment?’"

"Do you often threaten women, Tyler?" 

“Only when they abduct me.” 

“Now now, I know Holly explained the Regression Committee to you. All of our papers are in order.”

"Look, Rosie, I don’t give two shits about your papers. I’m on a tight schedule here, so let’s get down to it." 

She held up a finger. "Miss Rosie." 

"Sure. Whatever. Miss Rosie. You seem like a reasonable person." 

"How generous of you," she said. She pulled a notepad and a stack of papers off the counter onto her lap. 

“What’s all that?” 

“I just want to be sure I can remember everything you say. You were telling me how reasonable I am?” 

He leaned forward. "Compared to your colleagues? I mean, where did you find these people? That Holly chick probably couldn’t get hired at a supermax. Or the TSA." No reason not to lighten the mood a bit—blondes usually responded well to humor, he’d found.

She smiled. "Do you often find you don't get along with the women in your life?" 

He snorted. "Just the crazy ones." 

"And your mother?" 

"What about my mother?" 

She stared at him, pencil hovering above the paper. 

“What does she have to do with any of this?”

“She’s a woman. She raised you. Certainly you must have some opinion of her, no?”

"Look, I don't want to go into all of that. The cruise is leaving in less than two hours. Get me out of her in the next ten minutes and I’ll forget all about this. And believe me, that’s the best offer you’re gonna get.” 

"What is it that you don’t want to get into?"

“Jesus, lady. I don’t think you get it. I have Simms, Simms, and Goldbergh on retainer. You know who they are, right? You’ve seen the billboards?” 

She scribbled something on her pad. 

“What is that? What did you write?” 

“Let’s get back to your mother. Was she strict? Did she spank you?”

“This is crazy.”

“Would you say you quarreled with your mother frequently?” 

"Quarreled?” 

“Yes, it means ‘argued.’ ‘Fought.’ Had—”

“I know what it means.” 

“And?”

He sighed. “Sure, we got into it. I mean, didn’t you fight with your mother?" 

She smiled and shook her head. "My mom is a lovely woman. We had tea just last weekend. We do most Sundays. Loves to garden. Collects antique cookbooks. And she just started a non-prof—" 

"Great, great." 

This broad was dumb as a bag of bricks. Couldn't stay on track for more than ten seconds. "That's great. A non-profit you said?"

She nodded. "They're raising money to start a new women's shelter. There used to be—" 

"Uh huh. That's wonderful. I think we might be able to help each other out here, Rosie." 

"By all means," Rosie said, gesturing at him to continue. “You were saying your mother was strict? Or no?”

"I have a consulting firm."

"Oh, a firm." Scribble scribble. 

He stopped and frowned. "Why did you say it like that?" 

She poofed out her lips and scowled. "Firm. Sounds very serious." 

"Uh, yeah...well, it's just another word for 'company.' Anyway, I guide  organizations trying to find investors. Raise capital. You know, money to start a new business? Expand into foreign markets?" 

“And what does that have to do with your mother, Tyler?” She gestured toward the changing table. "Or your diaper?" 

"My dia—?" He shook his head. "You don't get it." He stood up. The room was feeling warm, claustrophobic. “You know you can’t force me to wear that, right?” He pointed at the ridiculous thing. 

“Of course, dear. Who said anything about forcing you?” 

“Ha? Have you meant Holly? Or those broads on the bus?”

“You’re looking a bit flushed.” Rosie slid her chair across the floor and pulled a bottle of juice out of a small fridge. "Here, have a drink. Normally we expect our boys to drink from bottles or sippy cups, but I think we can make an exception in your case." 

Finally, someone in this loony bin was starting to get it. He wasn’t like the usual limp-wristed twits they got here. He took a slug of the drink. Apple juice. How long had it been since he'd had apple juice?  

"You were telling me about your relationship with your mother," Rosie prompted.

He shook his head. "No, we were talking about your mother. Her non-profit. So, I—" He stopped. "What is that?" 

"Oh, the music? We like to play nursery rhymes in this room. The boys find it soothing. Helps them…acclimate." 

"If you say so." 

"I do." 

"Okay, well, as I was saying, I have a consulting business." 

“A firm.”

He ground his teeth and nodded. “Right.”

"Just you, all by yourself?" 

"I have a partner. Connor. The point is, I could help your mother out with some funds. Get me out of here and I’ll make a couple calls, see what I can shake loose." 

She scribbled something on her legal pad.

"What is that?" 

"Hmmmm?" 

"What did you write?" 

"Tell me, did you date a lot in high school and college?" 

“We were talking about money.” 

“No, dear. You were. I was asking about your dating life, because you don’t seem interested in talking about your mother. Or maybe you’d prefer to cut this conversation short for now and get changed into your diaper?” 

Date a lot? Was she coming onto him? "Yeah, of course.” 

"And you slept with these women?" 

No shit. She really was coming onto him. He dropped into his seat and leaned back. Everyone had their price. If it wasn't money, it was cock. "Sure. Yeah. You could say I’m a bit of a lady’s man." 

"You don't say." More scribbles. Was she flushed a bit? He thought he spotted some red creeping up her neck. 

"I'm guessing you had a fling or two in college yourself, Rosie." 

"Miss Rosie." 

"What's your type, huh? Let me guess. You like a guy on the taller side. Fit, but not one of those bulging muscle types. Confident, of course. Money's always nice." 

She smiled. "It's like you peeked right inside my head." 

Almost too easy. Where was the sport in it? "So look, Rosie." 

"Miss Rosie." 

"Sure sure. You and me? I think we can work something out." He spread his legs wide so she could get a better view of the sizeable bulge there. No way was he ever going to raise a dime for this wacko’s mother, but screwing his way out of here? That he could handle, especially after Monica betrayed him. A little ‘tit-for-tat.’” He chuckled at his own little joke.

“Something funny?” 

He shook his head and grinned. “Nothing at all.” That changing table would do nicely. Bend her over that. Skirt goes up, panties go down, and he’d be sipping that gin and tonic before he knew it.

“You were telling me about your dating life. Were any of the relationships serious before your wife?”

“Nah, I’m more of a…buffet kind of guy, you know?” He shot her his best grin. A grin that had dropped more than one pair of panties. 

“I see.” She looked down at her notes, flipped through her stack of her papers. The room was quiet. Well, almost quiet. Was that Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star playing? It sounded like it, but it was off in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like it was too slow. Or maybe there was something else playing in the background behind it, barely audible. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“And how did your mother respond to your relat—”

“Stop asking about my fucking mother!” he snapped. 

Her eyes grew wide, then she looked back down at her papers, frowning. 

“Rosie?” This wouldn’t work if she wasn’t looking at the goods, wasn’t paying attention. He took another swallow of the juice, finishing it off, and tossed the empty into a trash bin across the room. Or almost into it. It pinged off the side and slid across the tiled floor into the corner. 

“Hello?” He stood up, strode across the room, and loomed over her. No one fucking ignored him.

She held up a finger. “One moment, please.”

He’d give her to the count of ten. If she didn’t answer him by then, she was going to miss her shot. But that was no skin off his back. Everyone here must be horny as fuck. Only seeing a bunch of losers in diapers all day would make anyone crave a real cock. That Holly broad would be down for it. He’d bet money on it. A good dicking down might even wipe that bored look off her face. He was getting hard just thinking about it. 

“Rosie?”

No response. Fine. Holly it was. But first, he was feeling incredibly thirsty. Must have been those beers he tossed back last night. That always dehydrated him. He pulled another bottle of apple juice from the fridge, popped the top, and slurped it loudly. Monica always hated it when he did that. 

She just stared at those papers like they concealed the location of Blackbeard’s gold. 

He felt a flush of warmth in his cheeks. Actually, he felt flushed everywhere. And ever so slightly dizzy. Was that Hickory Dickory Dock playing now? Almost, but the singer—some woman with a syrupy sweet voice—kept adding her own lyrics. He couldn’t quite make them out, but he was sure they were there.

Two could play at the cold-shoulder game. He stood over the changing table, staring down at the ridiculous diaper and clothing. He picked up the diaper, holding the corner, and tossed it into the trash bin. A three-pointer this time. “Score!” 

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t so much as blink.

He finished the last of the apple juice in two gulps and tossed the bottle into the bin. He should grab another one for the road. Why did they keep it so hot in here? Must be 85, at least. How was she not sweating? He almost asked her, then Hickory Dickory Dock trailed off. In the break between tracks, he heard it—a woman’s voice, this time deeper, quieter than the singer. Almost a whisper, but not quite. It was a pleasant voice. One he could listen to for a while. Maybe he could just sit down for a bit and…

No! Who cared about some children’s song? He gave Rosie one last glance. Bitch. He reached for the doorknob.

“Tyler?” 

He stopped, hand on the handle. He turned to see her staring at him. Or at his crotch, rather. He suppressed a grin. Hook, line, and sinker.

“You seem to be wetting yourself, dear.” 

“Huh?” 

“You’re piddling in your pants. And all over the floor. I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this conversation later.” 

He looked down to see a dark line tracing down his pant leg. A thin, yellow stream ran into his sock and puddled in his Italian leather shoe, then spilled over the side onto the floor.  

“I’m, I’m…pissing myself?”

“Afraid so.”

“What the fuck did you do to me? You drugged me, didn’t you?”

He swayed uneasily. That was it. Drugs. Must be. He dropped into the seat with a squish and realized he was still pissing himself. He should stop. Why hadn’t he stopped?

“What was it?” he demanded. “Ro, rohip—” What was that word again?

She stood up and pressed a button on the wall. “Tyler had a little accident in his pants. Please send someone over.” 

“I’ll sue,” he gasped. “My god, I’m gonna sue you into oblivion. Do you have any idea—” 

“No drugs, dear. You opened those bottles yourself. They were all factory sealed.” 

She plucked the diaper from the trash and fluffed it out on top of the changing table.

“I’m out of here. This is nuts. You people are screwed.” 

“Just relax and listen to the nice songs while I get you all cleaned up.” 

The door opened and a man walked through. Or some sicko’s idea of a man, at least. He wore a baby blue shirt, massive diaper, and sneakers. A big, goofy grin was plastered on his face, as if there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than this asylum.  

“Jamie, meet Tyler.” 

Jamie’s grin only got bigger. “Hi, Tyler.” 

“Piss off,” he choked out. 

Rosie sighed. “Tyler needs to do things the difficult way. Why don’t you tell him how much you like being here while you clean up, Jamie?” 

Jamie started babbling about blocks and naptime and all kinds of nonsense while he wiped up the puddle on the floor with a wad of paper towels. Between him and the song—and whatever that voice was behind the song—Tyler could hardly keep track of it all. He’d get a moment of clarity, then everything would get muddled again.

He looked down to see Rosie had pulled off his pants, socks and shoes. He sat in his dripping underwear. When had that happened? 

“Do you like playdough best or trains best?” Jamie was staring right at him, as if his answer made all the difference in the world. How long had he been staring, anyway?

“You want to know what I like?” Tyler asked. 

Jamie’s head bobbed, his ridiculous mop of hair flopping around like an over-energized puppy.

For one terrifying moment, he almost forgot what he liked. Or didn’t know—had never known. It was fuzzy. Then it came into view. Crystal clear. “I like single malt Scotch, Jamie. I like Sunday afternoon golf. I like a fine steak from DeMartino’s, a fat cigar from Telly’s, and a blowjob with lots of tongue from my secretary. That’s what I like.”

Jamie said something back to him, but it didn’t make sense. 

He stared up at the ceiling. At the little pebbles under the paint. He was on the changing table. How did that happen? He should be upset. Or at least he could be upset. He could also just relax and listen to Humpty Dumpty. He started to sing along. 

“Humpty sat on a wall. Humpty dumpty had a great fall.” 

Jamie joined in. He was a half-second slow, but it didn’t really matter, did it? 

Someone was doing something down below. In his privates area. It didn’t feel bad, though. Just kinda warm and soft. 

“All the king’s horses and all the kings men, couldn’t put Humpty together again!” 

He was sitting up now and Rosie was saying something to him, but he couldn’t quite understand it. She walked over to the wall and pressed a button and the music stopped. 

Slowly, the room came into focus again. Rosie smiled at him. Jamie smiled at him. 

He looked down, already knowing what he’d see: a shirt with the ABC logo emblazoned on it, a pair of velcro shoes dangling a few inches above the floor, and a puffy white diaper in the middle. 

“Well don’t you look adorable,” Rosie said.

[Victoria Green Books]

Chapter 4

Tyler stared down at his new outfit in numb disbelief, at the stupid logo on his t-shirt, at the way his diaper scrunched together between his legs, at the childish shoes he was wearing, which made it totally clear that he was fully dressed.

Rosie turned to address Jamie. “How are you doing, sweetie?” she asked brightly. “Do you need changies?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned the man around and pulled out the back of his diaper. “No messes yet,” she announced, peeking inside. Then she turned him back to face her and slipped a finger down the front. “Hmm… You’re a little soggy, but I think your diaper can a bit more. You’re good for now, mister.” She patted the front of his diaper and Jamie giggled.

Tyler watched Jamie get his diaper checked like he was no more than three years old, and felt the beginnings of panic welling up inside him. He’d seen enough. This place was clearly some kind of brainwashing center where women turned men into diaper-pissing morons. The music was proof enough of that. And he had no intention of ending up like Jamie. Without warning, Tyler leapt off the changing table and started moving as fast as he could towards the door, the thick diaper between his legs turning his run into a ridiculous toddle. He heard Rosie laugh behind him, a pleasant, girlish laugh that sent a shiver down his spine, but he’d already reached the door. He flung it open and bolted out, right into the bosom of one of the enormous nannies stationed outside. Her arms wrapped around him at once, holding him tightly in place.

"Thank you, Catherine,” Rosie said, walking up to them while Tyler struggled to break free of the older woman’s vice-like grip. “I think I know a certain little boy who needs a spanking. Would you like to do the honours?”

"Get the fuck off me!” Tyler shouted. “I’m not going to end up like him!” He looked over his shoulder at Jamie, who was standing in the doorway with his thumb jammed between his lips, his eyes slightly crossed.

“Don’t worry”, Rosie said soothingly, “you won’t end up like Jamie.”

“Oh yeah?” Tyler sneered sceptically, still trying to squirm out of Catherine’s muscular arms.

“ABC offers a lot of different options for how a male should be regressed,” Rosie explained patiently. “Baby level or toddler level. Mind-wiped or self-aware. Happy or humiliated. Jamie here is just a sweet, empty-headed little boy now. But your wife wants you to keep your mind, for the most part. She wants you to understand who you were and what’s happened to you. Otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a punishment! You’ll still be you when your regression training is over, you’ll just wear baby clothes and diapers, you’ll suck your thumb and your pacifier, you’ll drink from bottles and eat baby food, you’ll play with toys and dance along to silly songs. So you won’t be a toddler, sweetie. You’ll just act like one! Isn’t that lovely?”

Any relief Tyler felt at being told he wouldn’t end up like Jamie vanished at once. He started struggling even harder to escape, panic welling up inside him again. That sounded even worse! But his squirming was useless. Catherine took a seat on a chair in the hallway, and he was pulled over her knees with his arms held tightly behind his back. She deftly undid the tapes of his diaper and pulled down the back to expose his bare bottom.

"I wish you could have been a good widdle boy, Ty-ty,” Rosie said in mournful baby talk. “Then we could have done things the easy way. But I can tell you’re going to be a widdle mister gwumpy-pants about your regression training, and boys who act naughty need red tushy-wushies.”

Tyler didn’t make a sound when the first smack landed on his rear. He was too shocked by what was happening. He was a grown man. He ran a successful consulting firm. And now he was over a woman’s lap getting spanked. But when the second smack landed with a sound like a whipcrack, he couldn’t help but let out a gasp of pain. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to give these bitches the satisfaction of knowing they were getting to him, but it was no use. The smacks started coming down harder and faster, until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Ow!” Tyler yelled. “Stop this! You can’t do this! Ow! Stop!” But the nanny didn’t stop. She kept on spanking, deaf to his shouts, and Tyler started writhing in her lap to get away, kicking his legs madly. To his shame, he realised that his eyes were filling with tears. “Please!” he sobbed. “Please stop! Please Miss Rosie, making her stop! I’ll be good! Owww! I won’t try to run, I promise! Owwwiee! I’ll be a good boy! I’m sorry!”

At once, the spanking stopped, and he was left gasping for breath over Catherine’s lap. His face was flushed red and covered with tears.

"It’s okay, little boy,” Rosie said soothingly, bending down in front of his face and wiping the tears from his cheeks with gentle fingers. “It’s all over now, and you’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you?”

Tyler nodded feebly. He didn’t want to fight, not while Catherine was there at least. He didn’t want her to start spanking him again.

He felt a cool hand on his burning bottom and heard Rosie giggle. “I do love the sight of a man with a bright red bum-bum,” she said, “but this little tushy needs a diapee.” He heard a crinkling sound, and felt the soft padding of the diaper cover his bottom again as Rosie re-did the tapes. “Don’t worry, honey. I know it felt bad, but it can be a lot worse than that. Your cute little butt will probably be fine in a few hours.”

Tyler said nothing as he was helped to his feet. He couldn’t look at either of them. He didn’t want to see the smirks, the looks of superiority that were surely on their faces.

"Good boy for saying sorry, Tyler,” said Rosie, taking his hand. “Now let’s go to the nursery. It’s lunchtime, and you need some nummies in your tummy, mister!”

She led him down the corridor, Tyler conscious of the way his diaper pushed his legs apart and made him waddle, and even more conscious of his sore ass. He stared at his feet the whole way, sick with humiliation. How could he have been reduced to a stupid snivelling child like that, sobbing and pleading for them to stop? He was a man for fuck’s sake! And more importantly, how was he going to escape? It was clear he couldn’t overpower them, not with those hulking nannies lurking around the place. He’d have to be patient, he told himself. It wasn’t exactly his greatest skill, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d just have to play along for a while, gather more information, and look for a way out of this nuthouse.

Rosie opened a door they’d come to, and Tyler was suddenly bombarded by noise. He looked up and felt his jaw drop. He was looking into an enormous, oversized nursery. Only there were no toddlers here. There were about a dozen grown men of various ages, all in uniforms like his, scattered around the room. Some were sat on the floor, stacking blocks and shaking rattles. Others were crawling along with toy cars and trains, and still others were sitting around a low plastic table, playing with playdough. Some had vacant, happy looks on their faces, like Jamie had, while others looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.

A number of women were wandering around dressed in pretty sundresses like Rosie’s, or else the nursemaid-like skirts and blouses of the large women, or even simple shirts and jeans. They couldn’t have made more of a contrast with the men and their puffy white diapers. As Tyler stepped inside, he was assaulted by the strong smell of baby powder and pee, and he wrinkled up his nose in disgust. He looked around at the line of changing tables that stood along one wall, and the row of highchairs that stood along the other. This place was a freakshow!

As he watched, a stern-looking middle-aged woman walked into the centre of the room and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright little ones,” she said in a mocking, syrupy voice, “time for lunchies!”

The women helped the men to their feet and started leading them over to the highchairs. Rosie pulled Tyler along too, flashing him a bright smile as she did so, and took him up to one of the big plastic chairs.

"Up you go, diaper butt,” she said sweetly, with an encouraging pat on his bottom. Tyler barely felt it through the thickness of his diaper, but when he clambered up and sat down obediently in the seat, his rear throbbed painfully, and he winced.

"I think someone’s sitting on a sore bum-bum, isn’t hims?” came a cooing female voice. Tyler looked up to see a woman helping Jamie into the highchair next to his. She was looking over at him with a teasing grin.

"He certainly is,” Rosie answered for him. “Little Tyler here tried to run away, but thankfully Catherine caught him before he could go far.”

"Oh dear,” the woman laughed. “No wonder he’s sore! That woman sure knows how to spank a man’s hiney. So is this the same Tyler who had a little accident earlier? I hope Jamie was able to clean everything up for you.”

“Oh yes, he was a great help,” said Rosie. “Thank you, Miss Elanor. And yes, it’s the same Tyler. He made quite the little puddle on the floor! And to think, he said he didn’t need diapers.”

"It was the music!” Tyler blurted angrily. “That stupid humpty-dumpty song!” He felt himself turning red. The words sounded ridiculous on his lips, but it was the truth.

The two ladies just chuckled and exchanged looks. At that moment, another woman came by and placed a bowl on his and Jamie’s trays, followed quickly by a large baby bottle for each of them. Tyler looked down in disgust at the greenish-orange mush in the plastic bowl in front of him. It was clearly baby food.

"Now Tyler,” said Rosie, in a business-like tone. “Are you big enough to feed yourself? Or do you need Miss Rosie to do it for you?”

Tyler was about to say that he wasn’t going to eat this shit at all, but his bottom was still painful, and he could see the threat in Rosie’s eyes. He didn’t want to be spanked again.

"I'll do it,” he said stiffly.

"What a big boy!”

"Here you go, Miss Rosie,” said Elanor, handing a crumpled up bit of fabric to her. It seemed the staff had been passing whatever they were down the line.

"Thank you,” Rosie said primly, and she flashed Tyler a smirk as she unfolded the fabric.

"I don’t need that,” Tyler said at once, when he saw what it was.

"Of course you do, silly!” Rosie chirped. “A diaper’s not the only thing you’ll need to take care of your messes, Tyler. You’re also going to need a bib! Part of the ABC program involves training you to have the eating habits of a baby. You could have the table manners of a prince right now, but by the time your training’s done, you’ll be the kind of boy who gets spaghetti in his hair and choccy pudding all over his face. Yes you will!”

Tyler felt a coldness in his stomach, even while his face flushed hotly with the embarrassment of being spoken to like he was two years old. He thought back to the video Holly had shown him earlier. Their threats felt a lot more real now. These women really were trying to turn him into some kind of overgrown baby man, and if the diapered idiot sitting next to him was anything to go by, they certainly had the power to do it too.

Rosie tied the bib around his neck. It was a soft baby blue, and his name was written across it in white letters. Baby Tyler. He grimaced at the sight of it, and then he became aware that there was faint music playing again.

"Alright, Tyler,” Rosie crooned, pressing a plastic spoon into his hands. “Show me what a big boy you are!”

Tyler dipped the spoon into the bowl of baby food almost absent-mindedly and lifted a spoonful up to his mouth. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. Vegetable-y but sweet. He was distracted by the music. Were they trying to mess with his head again? Because this time he was going to be ready for it. What was that they were playing? It sounded upbeat and cheerful.

Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man? Do you know the muffin man, who lives on Drury lane?

The muffin man. Tyler wished he could have a muffin instead of yucky baby food. A nice chocolate muffin. Or maybe blueberry. He ate another spoonful, and another.

Yes I know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man. Yes I know the muffin man, who lives on Drury lane.

"Good boy, Tyler!” Rosie was saying. “What a good boy for eating your num-nums!”

Tyler ate another spoonful. This time a little bit of baby food spilled down his chin, but he didn’t care. He was busy focusing on the music, making sure it didn’t get inside his head. He could hear it again, that syrupy voice substituting words, and that deeper female voice beneath it, murmuring something else.

Miss Rosie grinned at him, and he grinned back. He was too clever for her. He was too clever for all of them. He ate another spoonful. He ate it a little sloppily and got some on his cheeks, but what did that matter? He had to make sure they didn’t turn his mind as mushy as his lunchies.

Miss Rosie was holding the spoon now. When had that happened? But he didn’t really mind. It let him focus on ignoring the music more. “Open up for the airplane!” she said cooingly, and Tyler giggled as she made airplane noises, guiding the spoon towards his mouth. She was so funny. And so pretty. “Good boy,” she said, and Tyler felt as though fireworks were going off inside his head. “Good baby.” She was holding up the bottle now. Had he finished his nummies already? “We need to keep you hydrated, don’t we?” Miss Rosie asked, but he knew she didn’t really expect a response. “That apple juice went right through you before! Such a little tinkler!”

Tyler giggled again. He was a little tinkler. He’d tinkled all over the floor earlier. He’d wet himself. The woman in the video had said he’d never use a toilet again. That made Tyler frown a little. Because he didn’t want that. That would be icky. That would be awful. That would be-

Miss Rosie shoved the bottle into his mouth, and he started to suck. His milkies were yummy. She showed him how to hold his bottle properly, with two hands, so he could feed himself like a big boy without spilling, which was a good thing too because he’d already made a huge mess of his face and his bib, Miss Rosie said. He was a mucky boy.

Tyler sat there proudly in the highchair while he guzzled down his formula. Eventually, he was sucking on nothing but air, and Miss Rosie helped him down again and started leading him over to another room.

This room was dark, and there were lots of cribs in it. Big cribs, big enough for a big boy like him. A different tune was playing now. Was that Rock-a-bye Baby? He wasn’t sure. He was very tired. Miss Rosie was speaking quietly to him though.

"And you won’t always go off into baby-land like that,” she was saying, although he didn’t really understand. “But the music helps you learn how to behave, so you know what to do next time.” She lowered the bars of one of the cribs and helped Tyler into it. “We need to make sure all those adorable little babyish behaviours are as natural as breathing.”

There was a teddy in the crib for him, and Tyler clutched it automatically to his body. As the lullaby filled his brain and he drifted off to sleep, he didn’t notice his thumb slipping into his mouth.

"Enjoy your nap, baby Tyler.”

[Victoria Green Books]

Chapter 5

“Choo choo! Here comes the diapee train!”

Tyler blinked the last of his sleep from his eyes. He’d dreamt he was on the cruise, playing a game that was vaguely like craps. He’d won round after round, raking in piles of chips. An attractive blonde stood by his side, gently encouraging him with a hand between his legs. She whispered something he couldn’t quite make out. When he turned to ask her what she’d said, she’d become Holly. 

“All aboard the diapee train!” 

He twisted in the crib to get a look at the fresh hell rolling his way. Rosie and another young woman pushed a cart piled high with stacks of diapers, wipes, and bottles of baby powder between the row of cribs. Someone had added childish cardboard train wheels to the side and a plastic bucket made to look like a smokestack on top. 

“Did you have sweet dreams, Mikey?” one of the women asked a guy in a ridiculous baby blue leotard thing. He nodded vigorously in response. “I was playin’ wif blocks. And then Donald Duck came and knocked ‘em over. But then a puppy came and put them back for me.” 

The young woman grinned like he’d said something truly profound and not just a rambling mess of broken-brained gibberish. “Wow! How fun. Let’s get you into a fresh diapee and then you can play with blocks in the playroom. How does that sound?” 

“Yay!” 

They lowered the side of the crib. A series of pops echoed through the room, then one of the women took a wadded up diaper and dropped it into a pail in the bottom of the cart. It landed with a thud. Mikey pulled his knees to chest and exposed his pale ass to the women.

Tyler looked away. Not that Mikey or anyone else cared. Privacy wasn’t a concern here. At least not for the men. But that didn’t mean he wanted to see it. It was embarrassing by proxy. Like your dinner date asking the waiter at Bolocai if they serve hot dogs. Or being forced to piss yourself and then grinning up at your torturers because they promised you blocks. Pathetic. 

He closed his eyes and tried to recapture part of his dreams. Before playing craps, he was at one of the topdeck pools—the one shaped like a dolphin. Then he was having sex. First with Mon, then with some faceless woman. Then something had happened. Had interrupted him. He’d needed to pee in his dream. Then Rosie was there, asking him if he needed to go to the potty. He’d told her no and then gone into the casino, locking the door behind him.

Were they already getting to him with their mind games? He needed to get out of there before it got worse. His typical arsenal of persuasion hadn’t worked: no carrot or stick. And god knows the place was locked down like a prison. He’d waited Monica out before. In a battle of the wills, he always won. But he’d be damned if he would wait around for her to bail him out of the prison she put him in. He wanted to pull into the driveway in style and drop a crisp stack of divorce papers on the breakfast bar, then roll up to this place with an army of attorneys. 

“Choo choo! How are Timmy’s diapies, hhhmmm?” 

“Pretty soggy, huh?”

If only he could close his ears as easily as his eyes.

Pop pop pop pop

Thud

Crinkle crinkle

One of the cart wheels squeaked as they proceeded to the next willing victim and another round of condescending questions and sycophantic responses ensued. 

He was special. He’d known that since the second grade when he’d answered every question the teacher asked, been the first kid picked for dodgeball, and the fastest runner in freeze tag. The next two and half decades of trophies, academic accolades, and outstanding professional success only cemented that knowledge. 

But still. He might be a notch above these idiots, but there must have been at least a few here who weren’t weak-willed dolts. A few who’d resisted. But if any were still fighting back it certainly wasn’t evident here. Which meant it was only a matter of time for him too, much as he hated to admit it. They’d burrow into his brain with their stupid songs. Or rather, the drugs they were adding to the drinks or pumping through the vents and claiming were just nursery rhymes. 

Time to call in reinforcements.  

“Wooks wike mister Ty-ty has some soggy britches.” 

He reluctantly opened his eyes and stared up at the grinning orderly. She bent over his crib, her ample chest resting on the crib railing. Then she poked his exposed diaper.

“Hey!”

“Awww, did someone have wet dreams?” Rosie asked. 

“Veeerrrry wet,” the orderly added with a giggle. 

Rosie lowered the side of the crib and put a hand on the front of his diaper, patting it gently. “Oh my, it does look like someone had a visit from the sogmonster. Good thing you had on a thick diapee, isn’t it?” 

Tyler barely listened. He didn’t resist or twist away. He had his eyes on the little pocket at the back of Rosie’s sun dress. 

“Sure. Whatever.” 

Rosie smiled. “Well now, isn’t that a nice change in attitude.” She turned to the other woman. “I told you he’d realize how much he needed his diapers soon.” 

The other woman smiled and handed Rosie one of the massive diapers.

“Uh huh.” 

Rosie nodded. “You’d probably be a grumpypuss if you woke up in wet sheets. That’s no fun at all.” 

She turned towards the cart, her backside swinging a bit closer. He reached out, keeping his hand as low as possible to avoid the orderly’s gaze. His hand brushed the pocket. 

Rosie twisted back around, dress fluttering out of the way. She dropped a package of wipes on the mattress next to him.

He could almost reach it. The pocket wasn’t very deep, leaving nearly half of her cellphone exposed. If he moved slowly, carefully…

Pop 
Pop 
Pop
Pop

“Woooweee. We need to get you drinking more liquids, young man.” 

His fingers brushed the hard metal case.

“Allie, please note on Tyler’s chart that he needs to finish four—no, make it five—bottles every day this week.” 

She shifted and the phone slipped from his reach. 

He glanced down. The front of the diaper was flopped down on the mattress, leaving his penis exposed like a beached dolphin. “Think you could give me some privacy here?” 

“Unh uh,” Rosie grabbed his wrist. “Wouldn’t want to get tinkles on your hands.” 

“Tinkles? What are you…” 

The smell hit him. The source of the smell. It wasn’t coming from the rest of the room—at least not only the rest of the room.

Rosie ran a cold wipe down over him and chuckled. “It’s okay. This brings back memories for lots of our boys. You don’t have to worry—we won’t make you do your sheets.” 

“Do my…?” 

“Launder them, I mean.” She pulled the diaper out from under him, taped it into a vaguely football shaped object, then dropped it into pail on cart.

Thud

No, they were screwing with him again. Still. There was no way…

“We don’t just talk to the wives, you know. We interview anyone who can help us build out a profile. Mostly women, of course. They’re certainly more reliable and so many men are unwilling to help.” 

The orderly handed Rosie a bottle of baby powder. “We think it’s because the men realize when they start sharing their stories that they have a lot of the same struggles. Then they start to wonder when they will get sent to us.” 

“But mothers are almost always willing to help. Yours was no exception, Tyger.” 

“What did you call me?” 

Rosie patted his hip. “Lift up.” 

“No one has called me that in—”

“Lift your bottom or Allie and I will do it for you.” 

He lifted a bit, plastic sheet mattress cover crinkling. Rosie slid a fresh diaper underneath him.

“Why did you ask me all about her if you’d already talked to her?” he asked numbly.

“Your mother--such a sweet woman,” Rosie continued. “And a memory like a bank vault. She explained all about your struggles with bedwetting. The wet sheets. The lies. The time she had to pick you up from a sleepover birthday party because you wet the sleeping bag. And the living room carpet. Scott Martin, was it?” 

“Martell,” Tyler mumbled. “Scott Martell.” He forgotten all about that. Or repressed it. Trying to blot up the mess with wads of toilet paper. Then a dish towel. And finally his t-shirt. Sneaking into the kitchen to get a glass of water that he could spill all over everything as an excuse. When he’d returned, Scott had stared at him wide-eyed. 

He’d called his mother. Made up an excuse about being sick. She didn’t buy it. But it got him out of there. The next day at school he’d made sure Scott wouldn’t tell anyone what happened and then he never thought about it again. Or tried not to.

Until now.

Rosie sprinkled baby powder all of over him. “She did the best she could, of course. Making you wash and dry your sheets. Putting a cover on your mattress. Make you take some responsibility. 
But today we know better.” 

She drew the diaper up to his bellybutton and began applying the tapes. 

“You boys play at being grownups and taking on responsibility, but only when we cajole and threaten and bribe. The moment you are out of our sight, it all falls apart.” 

“Boys are babies,” Allie added with a shrug.  

Rosie applied the last tape and patted the front of his diaper. “Awww, don’t be sad. We will take good care of you, Tyger.” 

“That’s not my name.”

Rosie smiled. “Now it’s time to get up and shake out the sleepies. Come on, up we go.” 

*** 

“You put your whole self in! You take your whole self out!”

One of the dolts toppled over onto the floor and started rolling around, legs in the air like a flipped turtle.    

“You put your whole self in and you shake it all about!” 

"Why aren't you dancin'?" Jamie asked. 

"...that’s what it’s all about," the music continued gleefully. 

The woman in the center of the circle shook her limbs while the men—if you could call them that— followed her lead awkwardly, always at least a few steps behind. Of course, that didn't include those who ignored the dance altogether in favor of of clapping, jumping up and down, or running in circles. 

A couple of the other guys didn't play along either. They made more of an effort than Tyler did, but you could see the difference in their faces, in the lack of dopey smiles and glazed eyes. They were still in there, somewhere, waiting to get out. 

"Do you still have the sleepies?" Jamie asked. 

Rosie caught his eye across the circle. 

He started shuffling his feet and waving his hands around. She couldn't call him out on that—he was a Super Bowl halftime show dancer compared to most of these guys. 

"I know!" Jamie shouted in his ear. "You need a hug!" 

"Touch me and I'll break your arm."

He wilted. "You don't wanna hug?" 

"Maybe later, Jamie," a voice said beside me. One of the guys who'd managed to keep some semblance of sanity had made his way around the circle. 

Jamie nodded as if he understood, though his eyes said otherwise. He went back to dancing.

"First morning, huh? Woke up wet?" the guy asked, awkwardly shuffling his feet and waving his arms about over his head. He laughed as I fumbled for a response. "You aren't the first. Won't be the last." 

"They gotta be putting something in the drinks. Or piped through the HVAC. Gonna fucking sue their asses off." 

"Who was it? Wife? Girlfriend?" 

"What?" 

"Who sent you here? Was it your mother?" He raised an eyebrow. "Stepmother?" 

"Does it matter?" 

He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not." 

The song finally ended and all the boys collapsed onto the floor, scores of feet kicking up in the air, their diapers crinkling loudly.

Rosie glared at him again. Tyler dropped down onto his back and made a token effort. 

"Now did everyone get the last of the sleepies out?" the woman in the middle asked. 

“YES!” came the enthusiastic response.

"Good. Now everyone with a red paci can head to the classroom. The rest of you get some free play first." 

"A red...?" 

My new associate pointed at the pacifier they'd clipped to my shirt. It had a blue head. 

"Of course. My paci." 

He grinned. "You get used to it after a while." He stuck out a hand. “I’m Derek.” 

"I'm not going to be here a while." 

He pointed at Jamie. "I remember when he said that too. Seems like it was just..." he paused. "Well, no clue actually. Time is funny in here." 

They both stood up again.

Rosie made her way over. She held out a big bottle. “Here you go, Tyger. Gotta stay hydrated.” 

Tyler took the bottle. It was warm.

Rosie raised an eyebrow. “Need help? Some boys have forgotten how to suckle properly.” 

Tyler took a long and awkward pull on the nipple, getting a squirt of warm, sweet milk. 

Rosie smiled. “Your mommy will be so proud when she comes to see you.” 

“My…wait, Monica is coming here?” 

“Now we have lots of fun activities for you. Playdough. Blocks—” 

“When is she coming?”

She cleared her throat. “Coloring. Dollies. Trucks—”

Might as well be talking to a wall. “I don’t care. Playdough. Whatever.” 

She smiled. “Wonderful. Der-der will show you where everything is. I’m sure you two will have so much fun together. I’ll be back soon to check your diapee, okay sweetie?” 

When she turned around, he spotted her phone again. 

He considered reaching out and making a desperate grab for it, then another thought popped in his head. “I want to color instead.” 

She turned around.

“Please, Miss Rosie,” he added with what he hoped was an innocent smile. 

“Of course, sweetie.” 

They walked over to a low table with an assortment of coloring books and crayons. Tyler lowered himself into a small plastic chair, his knees poking up awkwardly. Everything in this place was designed to humiliate them. 

Derek settled in next to him. “Monica your wife?” 

Tyler picked up a loose coloring page—a train engine pulling a coal car and a caboose—and began writing his message in red crayon. 

Derek sighed. “You know, I think this is one of the reasons all of this could happen.” He nodded at Rosie and two other women standing at the edge of the room, talking. All three burst out in laughter. 

Tyler stopped writing and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll bite.” 

“See how they’re getting along? Talking? Laughing? Sharing?” 

“‘Sharing’? Man, they really have gotten into your head with their touchy-feely bullshit.” 

“We’re so busy beating our chests, trying to one-up each other. Not listening. Not letting anyone in.” 

“I’ll be sure to bare all to my ‘therapist,’” Tyler made exaggerated air quotes, “right after she’s done wiping my ass and telling me its for my own good.” 

“Look, I get it. I was like you when I got here.” 

Tyler snorted. 

“Believe whatever you want. All I’m saying is, if us guys worked together a bit more, maybe things would be easier for us.” He leaned in closer. “Especially those of us who aren’t on the full regression track.” 

Tyler positioned his arm so Derek couldn’t see his note. “Next time I need a hug, if Jamie isn’t around, I’ll come find you.” 

“Give it a few days. You might see things differently.” 

Tyler signed the note, folded it, and slid it into his lap. When Rosie looked over at the Playdough table he bent over and slipped it into his right sneaker. When her eyes made their way back to the coloring table he took a big slug of the bottle. 

“Good talk, Derder. Let’s not do it again sometime soon.” 
 

Are you enjoying reading Tyler's misadventures? If so, you might enjoy my stories on Smashwords, or my 42,000 word Diaper Discipline: A Strict Wife's Guide book. 

[dirtydingus84]

I binge read this story and it is great. I would love to know more about the committee and how they vet, what do they do with cases of spiteful ex-lovers or if they have for some reason take a wrong person and so on. What a great world building story keep up the wonderful work.

 

[Guilend]

I just read all of this and I love it. I wonder what they do to punish a nanny that breaks any of the rules. 

[Victoria Green Books]

@dirtydingus84 and @Guilend - Glad you're both enjoying it Those are some interesting ideas that my co-author and I might need to explore. 

[Eberhardt85]

I'm really enjoying this story so far, and also hope you both continue. I like how the staff seems to be reliant on lighter forms of forced regression, ie. gentle hypnosis with some light spanking and humiliation. Good way of balancing the punishment with the nurturing. Would love to see more interactions with Ms. Rosie, and it should be interesting to see how Ty Ty reacts to his first poopy diaper...do they know right away or does he try to hide and they have to check?

[Eberhardt85]

Hope you guys haven't given up...I for one think this story is great & I know lots of people on the forum agree!

[Sweet Baby Katie]

Excellent.  So that’s what happened to me….

[Victoria Green Books]

“How does it feel knowing the last time you used a toilet was the last time you used a toilet?” she teased. “How does it feel knowing that you’ll be doing this every day for the rest of your life?”

Hey all! Thanks for the kind words and the patience. Here's chapter 6—it's a doozy! And here's my shameless plug: if you enjoy this story, you might like some of my books on Smashwords. I'm publishing a new, 20k word story soon that I'm really excited about.

Chapter 6

“Okay, boys!” came a woman’s voice a little while later. The same lady who’d led them in their ridiculous after-nap dance earlier was poking her head out from behind the door to the classroom. “Time for everyone with a blue paci to come on in!”

The remaining boys got to their feet and started moving over to the classroom, shepherded by the women. For the first time, Tyler noticed that many of the men walked in an awkward way. Their thick diapers already pushed their legs apart and turned their normal strides into waddles, but this was more than that. They were lifting their feet too high, as if they were misjudging how much to lift them before putting them down. They stomped along rather than walked, mimicking the unsteady gait of the youngest of toddlers, and they stretched out their arms for balance as they went.

He wouldn’t end up like that, Tyler told himself forcefully. He’d be out of this place and far away before they ever got him near that point. He could feel the slip of paper inside his shoe. His ticket out of the nuthouse if he could just find a way to the mailroom. But that would have to come after whatever absurd new activity they had planned. A hand patted his bottom firmly and he looked over his shoulder to see Rosie smiling at him.

“No dawdling, sweetie,” she said. “Time for class!”

Scowling, Tyler looked ahead and followed the toddling men over to the door. Derek was just ahead of him and seemed to be walking fairly normally, but it was hard to tell with his diaper. Tyler couldn’t help but stare at the point between Derek’s thighs where the thick padding pushed them apart. The slightly yellowed, slightly sagging padding. Derek looked ridiculous. A grown man in a wet diaper. Is that what he looked like too? Tyler’s hand drifted self-consciously to his own crotch. Still dry. Of course he was. He was hardly going to piss himself without knowing, was he? Not when they hadn’t drugged him. He wasn’t a stupid little boy who still wet his pants.
No, said a voice in his head. You just wet the bed. He felt himself reddening. That wasn’t true. That was only once, because they’d done something to him. The same as when they’d drugged his apple juice and played that music and made him piss his pants somehow. He wasn’t a pantswetter. He wasn’t a bedwetter.

The red paci group finished exiting the room, and Tyler’s group took their place inside. Immediately he was pulled out of his thoughts. He was standing inside an oversized mockery of a kindergarten classroom. There was a whiteboard at one end of the room, surrounded by alphabet letters and rainbow stencils. There were a number of squat, childish desks and chairs, polished wood with brightly coloured backrests, but at the moment they were pushed against the walls to leave plenty of standing room. On the wall opposite the door was a large landscape poster, similar in style to the one Tyler had seen in the building’s entrance room. It also depicted a man dressed in the ABC uniform, this time standing in the middle of the picture with his thumb jammed in his mouth and a look of total idiocy on his face. To his left was a green arrow, pointing towards his head, with the words “Putting in what belongs!” printed on it. Around the arrow was a picture of a bib, a pacifier, a diaper, and a Venus symbol topped with a gold crown. To his right was a red arrow, pointing away, with the words “Taking out what doesn’t!” on it. There were pictures around this arrow too; a toilet, a knife and fork, a speech bubble with “@%&#!” written inside, and the curvy silhouette of a naked woman

“Today’s lesson is going to be a very special one,” announced the woman who’d called them in. She was a little older than most of the other staff members, Tyler noticed, though still good-looking. She turned to him, smiling. “My name is Miss Nora, Tyler. Now, normally, in my class we have sit-down lessons. We learn all about how to respect women, how to talk properly, how to act like the sweetest little boys, and so on. Not to say we don’t have plenty of fun! But today’s will be a more… practical lesson.” She turned her attention back to the class at large. “Our subject today will be pooping your pants!” She clapped her hands excitedly, and some of the boys copied her. Tyler just stared at her, dumbstruck. “We timed the class so it’s just after your post-lunch nap, right about the time our boys normally start feeling the need to make stinky-time in their diapies.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Tyler realized that he did need the bathroom.

“Thankfully it doesn’t seem like any of you made boom-booms already while you were waiting for the first class to be done,” Miss Nora went on, “which is just as well, because the point of this class will be to work on your public pooping. It’s an important part of your regression therapy. It doesn’t matter if you’re standing in front of your Mommy, or your coworkers, or the pretty girl at the checkout counter. When you feel the urge to go, you go. You don’t think about it. Thinking about it is what grown-ups do. Learning to go pee-pee in public isn’t usually that difficult, but pooping your pants in front of strangers can be a bit harder, especially since it’s so much more obvious what you’re doing. That’s why we’ve got some special guests to help you today!” She looked over to another door leading off the classroom. “Alright ladies, the second group can come on in!”

The door opened at once, and a crowd of excited-looking young women spilled into the room. Tyler blushed as red as a tomato, and his hand jumped to his diapered crotch in a fruitless attempt to cover it up. Having the lunatic staff see him dressed like this was one thing, but a bunch of strangers was another matter.

“Don’t be shy, boys!” Miss Nora called. “Our guests have come from all the nearby colleges to help you learn to make potty in your pants with an audience. Now remember ladies, it’s three to a baby. Divide into your groups and we’ll lead you over to your assigned little cutie!”

The young women quickly split into groups of three, and the Center staff began leading them over to the boys. It wasn’t long before Miss Rosie was walking over to Tyler with three others in tow. “Oh Tyler’s adorable,” she was saying to them, “even if he is a bit naughty. It’s still his first day, but in my opinion that will just make this even more fun!” She grinned at him when she saw him watching them. “Hi Tyger! Are you ready for some public pooping practice? Aren’t you lucky to have three lovely ladies to help you today?”

Tyler didn’t know how to respond. He was too busy reeling from the thought that he was expected to dirty his diaper in front of three college girls. Three hot college girls. Each of them was wearing a different coloured dress; one blue, one yellow, and one red. The girl in the blue dress was very pretty, slim but with a particularly large chest straining her otherwise modest dress. She was gazing at him like someone who’d just spotted the most adorable little puppy. The girl in the yellow dress was a blonde bombshell that reminded Tyler of his secretary, but there was a sneer on her face as she took him in, her pale blue eyes lingering disparagingly on his bulky diaper, and Tyler could tell she didn’t really want to be here. The girl in the red dress was smiling at him, but her mouth was twitching at the corners like she was struggling to fight back laughter as she looked him up and down. She was just as gorgeous as the other two, and her dark eyes sparkled mischievously.

Tyler realized they’d just finished introducing themselves, but he hadn’t paid attention to their names at all. He felt sick to his stomach. If they thought he was going to go along with this, they were insane. There was no way he was going to crap his pants in front of them! These were the kind of girls he’d take to bed after a night out at the bar!

“Okay Ty-Ty, time to get started,” said Miss Rosie. She was looking at him expectantly.

At last he found his voice. “No!” he blurted. “This is crazy! You can’t really think that I’m going to willingly do that in my… in this stupid diaper. I’m a fucking grown man and…”

“Tyler,” Rosie cut in warningly. “You’ve already had one spanking today. Do you need another? Do you need me to call Miss Catherine in here?”

Tyler clenched his fists. “No,” he said, through gritted teeth.

Rosie raised her eyebrows. “I think you mean no, Miss Rosie,” she said. “If you keep up that nasty attitude, I’ll have Miss Catherine give you a real spanking this time, not the light little paddling you got before. Is that what you want?”

“No, Miss Rosie, but…”

“Then be a good boy and make a messy diaper,” she said, brightening at once. “Poopy Pampers are going to be a normal part of your wardrobe from now on, mister, so you’d better get used to them. I know you’re embarrassed to make whoopsie-daisy in front of such pretty young ladies, but that’s something you’ll have to get used to as well.”

“It’s okay, Tyler,” said blue dress earnestly. “Go ahead and do a poo-poo.”

Yellow dress just raised an eyebrow at him contemptuously, but red dress giggled and said, “Yeah, come on Ty-Ty. It’s time to make a stinky!”

All around him, Tyler could hear the grunts of the other boys as they got to work filling their diapers, and the room was filled with the cooing and teasing and laughter of the women.

“That’s a good boy!”

“Oh my God, is this for real?”

“Awww! Someone’s makin’ uh-ohs!”

He imagined trying to resist, having that hulking nanny turn him over her lap again and spank him to tears right here in front of everybody. He looked at Miss Rosie desperately. “Please… I can’t… You can’t expect me to…”

“It’s only natural that you’re nervous,” she said soothingly. “This will be your first pair of messy pants since you were a very little boy… Although not as little as some, huh? Do you remember, Tyger? Do you remember that little accident at school in the third grade?”

Tyler felt himself going cold.

“Your mother told us about that one too. About how the school had to call her, to tell her that her son had pooped his pants on the playground, and could she come and bring a spare change of clothes.”

Tyler stared at her. He felt disoriented. Was there music playing again, or was that just his imagination? The memories were coming back to him. He could recall, vividly, how he’d ignored the need to go to the bathroom. He hadn’t wanted to miss breaktime. He’d been showing off on the monkey bars in front of his friends, and the girls, when it had suddenly become too much – he’d bent himself into the wrong position, he’d strained the wrong muscles, and he’d suddenly become aware of the load sitting in his pants. He’d escaped inside before anyone had noticed, and a teacher had found him crying in the toilets.

He’d told himself afterwards that he’d been ill, although he hadn’t felt sick at all, or that it was just some random freak event. Something that happens sometimes. Everyone has accidents, his mother’s voice seemed to whisper. Even big boys. Or was that Miss Rosie talking? Or the girl in the blue dress?

The teachers had been so sympathetic, but they’d never looked at him the same way again. His friends had never found out, and nor had the girls, nor had anyone beyond the staff. If they had, his life would have been over, his reputation ruined forever, no longer the cool kid on the playground but the loser who’d pooped his pants and had to be cleaned up by the school nurse.

Was that a tinkling tune playing in the background? He couldn’t tell with all the noise. Miss Rosie was rubbing his back, and gently she helped to bend his knees and lower him into a squat. Tyler felt like he was caught between two places. He was standing in the middle of the playground with a crowd of people around him, feeling the urge to go build stronger and stronger, and he was here in the Center, knees bent, knowing that he’d either have to fill his diaper now, or get a spanking first. He looked up despairingly into Miss Rosie’s eyes, shining with some mixture of sweetness and superiority, and then, as though it was a force outside of his control, he screwed up his face and started to grunt.

The back of his diaper sagged at once as he filled it with a large, yucky load. Tears spilled from his eyes, and he couldn’t help but look up at the three college girls. Blue dress was gazing at him adoringly, yellow dress was looking at him with mingled disgust and disbelief, and red dress was doubled up with laughter. He clenched his eyes shut and let out a pathetic whimper. What was he doing?!

“Gross!” exclaimed yellow dress. “He’s actually doing it!”

“Good boy, Tyler!” cooed blue dress, over the sound of red dress’s hysterical laughter. “Oh, that’s so cute!”

He let out another loud grunt, and dumped another load of poopy into his pants. He felt blue dress put her arms around him. Squatted down as he was, his head was level with her breasts, and he could feel their warm flesh through her dress. Despite himself, his penis began to stiffen, but at that moment a rush of pee joined the mess in his diaper, drenching the front of the pristine white padding. Tyler started to sob into her cleavage. What was happening to him?!

At last, he finished pooping, the trickle of pee ran dry, blue dress pulled away, and the thirty-something year old businessman was left standing in front of four beautiful women with a soaked and stinky diaper sagging heavily down to his mid thighs. He had the slightly dazed look of a man who couldn’t quite believe what had just happened to him.

Red dress jumped forward, still giggling away to herself. She stepped behind Tyler, hooked a finger into the waistband of his diaper, and pulled it out. “Yuck!” she exclaimed happily, once she’d looked inside. She let the waistband snap back, and fanned her nose in an exaggerated way. “Pee-YEW!”

“Ugh, that’s so disgusting!” yellow dress complained. “How could any man let himself end up like this?”

“You sure you don’t want to pat his bottom, Julie?” red dress asked with a grin, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye and reaching out to jiggle Tyler’s droopy diaper.

This was too much for yellow dress, the girl named Julie. “Ew! Ew! NO!” she squealed, backing away.

Red dress laughed and turned back to him. “How does it feel knowing the last time you used a toilet was the last time you used a toilet?” she teased. “How does it feel knowing that you’ll be doing this every day for the rest of your life?”

Tyler still felt dazed and distant. It was as though the girl’s voices were reaching him from the end of a tunnel. But Miss Holly’s words came back to him, the ones she’d spoken while pointing at the little plastic potty sitting in the corner of her office. You don’t want one last potty trip?

“Don’t be so mean to him, Amy!” blue dress scolded. She turned her bright, kind eyes on him again. “I think it’s really cute that you’ll never use a potty again, Tyler,” she said. “I’m sure it feels a bit overwhelming at the moment, but I promise that one day you’ll be toddling around and pooping your pants in front of pretty girls like you do it every day – which you probably will!”

“That’s exactly right, Ella!” Miss Rosie agreed. “But there’s nothing wrong with a bit of teasing too. Let’s not forget that Tyler’s here because he’s been a very naughty boy! Now, thank you three so much for helping me with little Tyler. I’m sure he’s not going to forget this any time soon. You can head back to the bus now. You’ll be relieved to know we’re not asking you to change the babies!”

Blue dress, Ella, actually looked disappointed. Amy just smirked, and Julie said, “Thank God. I don’t think I could handle changing a grown man’s stinky adult diaper.”

Tyler’s lip wobbled. For a moment he hung on to the distance he’d built up inside him, the feeling of unreality, the sense that this could all be some awful dream, or something that was happening to someone else. But Julie’s final words had been just enough to break that down. He was a grown man in a stinky adult diaper. Tyler started to cry.

“Poor baby,” Miss Rosie cooed, taking his hand. “It’s okay, Tyger. Diapers are meant for pooping in! You’re not in trouble, mister. But come along, sweetie. I think you need a diapee change!”
 

[Victoria Green Books]

Hey, everyone! Sorry this chapter took a bit. I was busy writing and publishing two new stories on Smashwords: 

Diapered by the Doctor

Potty Retraining

You can read free, lengthy previews of both in case you want to take a peek before buying. Hope you like 'em!

Now on to the story! 

Chapter 7

Every step added a vile new aspect to Tyler's experience. It wasn't just that he'd filled his diaper and that was that. It wasn't even that he had to know, intellectually, that he'd fouled himself. He had to feel it. Every tiny movement mushed the disgusting, lumpy mess into new cracks and crevices: up his butt, against his balls, and in what surely must be every square inch of the diaper. 

And the smell. God, the smell! The stench was worse than at Bonnaroo three years ago. Two days of pouring rain and a few thousand people shitting in far too few porta potties created the fecal equivalent of Chernobyl. But there, at least, a fresh breeze wafted the stink around, diffusing it across the fields. And you could physically distance yourself from the stench if you were willing to put in the effort. Here, the porta potty was strapped to his ass. He carried the reek around with him, contributing to the overall miasma no matter where he went.

"Here you go, sweetie," Rosie said when they reached the line of weirdos. She squeezed his hand and then let go. "We'll get you all changed up in a jiffy." 

She patted the diaper as she walked away, further mashing the nastiness against him.

He felt the urge to…cry. 

No. No! That wasn't it. He wanted to lash out at these sick, abusive weirdos. Make that bitch Rosie shit herself in front of a group of strangers. She wouldn't be grinning then, would she? 

"First time, huh?" Derek asked. He was in line behind Tyler.

"No, I shit myself every morning. It's the newest craze. Don't you watch Oprah?" 

"Okay, man, whatever you say." 

The guy in front of him suddenly backed up, bumping his nasty diaper into Tyler's. 

"Fucking watch it!" 

"Sowwy." The dummy actually looked sorry. But not as sorry as he should look for pressing that war crime taped around his waist against another human being. Then the guy smiled and wrinkled up his nose. "You stinky." 

"No shit," Tyler snapped. 

"Well, that's not true," Derek added behind him with a snicker. He didn't seem bothered by this. At least not as bothered as he should be. Not as bothered as any man with a modicum of self-respect would be. But he wasn't alone in that. All around him, it was like another day at the office. If he closed his eyes—and his nose—he could almost imagine that he was queuing up to buy movie tickets, or get into a restaurant. 

"These idiots don't even care," Tyler said. "Those two seem to like it." He nodded at a couple of guys who were taking turns smacking each other's butts and giggling. "Fucking gross." 

"Might want to keep your voice down," Derek said. "Or at least cut back on the f-bombs." 

Tyler stepped to the side of the line and instantly regretted it when he glimpsed an opened diaper with unspeakable nastiness on display. Probably no different than what his would look like when he made it to the front of the line. 

"How does it feel knowing the last time you used a toilet was the last time you used a toilet?" 

The words kept pinging around inside his skull since that chick in the red dress said them. She'd relished every word of it, too, really twisting the knife. He'd never thought about using the toilet before. Never considered it a privilege. Never considered it at all, really. You went. You wiped. Then you flushed. End of story. That little silver handle and its magical ability to whisk everything out of sight seemed the height of luxury now that his mushy load was sitting in the seat of his pants.

He leaned out again. The same guy was still there, his skinned knees and chunky white sneakers on display. The woman changing him hummed some childish song as she sprinkled baby powder on him.

"They're dragging this out on purpose, aren't they?" he said to Derek. "You know they have a whole pack of people who could be helping speed this up." 

"Want me to go back and see if those girls from the school can help? That one in blue really seemed to like you. Think she'd love the chance to change you." 

"Hilarious." 

Derek sighed. "Look, nothing here happens by accident. At least nothing they do. It might seem all lighthearted—nursery rhymes and smiling faces and all that, but they've perfected this whole process. Usually, they just lead us off to the changing tables whenever. But the whole idea here is to get used to public changes. And to get us used to waiting for a change." 

"So, abuse, basically. There are laws against this in nursing homes."

"Are there?" 

Tyler shrugged. "Probably. There should be." 

"Look man, I don't know what your brochures said, but mine didn't promise massages and five-star service." 

Tyler shifted. The mess in his pants was cooling, which somehow made it even worse. "Let's, uh, work our way up." He gave Derek a meaningful glance.

"Bad idea." 

"No one is going to notice. And if they do, they won't care. One shitty ass to wipe is the same as any other." 

Derek shook his head. "Nothing gets by them. And if they catch us cutting?" 

"Cutting? What is this, kindergarten?"

"Or third grade?" that nasty little voice in his head asked. 

Right. The other betrayal. And one that stung almost as much as Monica's. He'd settle up with his mother when all of this was done. No lawsuits for her. A nursing home would do the job nicely. Poetic justice. Did nursing homes have early enrollment? A big enough donation would grease the right wheels. It always did.

Later. Once he mailed the letter in his shoe and got the hell out of here. For now, he watched and waited for his opening. Finally, the three women at the front of the line that weren't neck deep in dirty diapers—two of the hulking enforcers and Elanor—were all looking elsewhere. Now or never. 

"Is that Barney?" Tyler asked, pointing toward the front of the room.

Several heads all turned at once like a bunch of brain-addled gophers. Tyler slipped forward a few places in line. Derek hesitated, then followed. 

"Finally growing back your balls, huh?" Tyler asked. 

"Still think it's a bad idea, man." 

"And yet here we are. No black helicopters swooping down to spirit us away to a hidden torture-bunker." 

Derek raised an eyebrow. That they were already in the torture bunker didn't need to be stated. But at least they'd made it near the front of the line without any of these dolts saying anything. Not that lying spread-eagle on the floor while he got praised for being disgusting was a heartwarming idea, but it beat walking around like this any longer than absolutely necessary. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, he made it to the front of the line. Elanor smiled up at him from behind a small desk. "How was your first poopy pamper, Ty-Ty? You're a lucky boy to have the ladies here to help you with your first big mess, you know." 

"Four stars. Would've been a five-star experience if it'd been your diaper I was shitting in." He shrugged. "Maybe next time." 

Derek groaned behind him. 

Elanor smiled. "Well then, you won't mind delaying your change a bit longer, hhhhmm? See if we can make this a 'five-star experience' for you?" 

"No. Look, I was just kidding around." Couldn't anyone around here talk a goddamn joke?

"Oh, we're all well aware of your penchant for humor, Ty-Ty. It's a defense mechanism we often see here. Some of the boys are actually funny, but never mind about that." She nodded at the hulking women standing behind her. "Would you fetch two walkers, please?" 

"Walkers? I said it was just a joke." 

"Yes. A joke. But do you know what's not a joke, Tyler?" 

"No, Elanor," Tyler forced through clenched teeth. "But I'm sure you're going to tell me. What is not a joke?" 

"Cutting in line. I'm afraid that you and Derek will need a bit more time to think about your selfish actions." 

Elanor reached into a drawer and removed two shower caps. She stood and stretched one out. No, not shower caps. They were too big and made of what looked like yellow plastic, but decidedly underwear-shaped. 

"These are punishment panties," Elanor said.

"What? No." Tyler gestured at the swollen diaper taped around his waist. "This is punishment enough." 

Elanor shook her head. "No, Tyler. You've been told this. Diapers are just your potty now. You will be doing all of your poo-poos and pee-pees in your diapie, like a good boy." She bent over slightly and stretched the panties out. "Now step into the leg holes." 

"I'm sorry." 

"I'm not going to tell you twice. Things can always get worse, you know." 

Tyler stepped forward hesitantly. He put his feet through the leg holes. Elanor drew them up his legs and over the diaper. It covered the entirety of his swollen diaper and then some. She spent a few moments fiddling, tucking errant bits of diaper inside the plastic pants.

Derek stepped up beside him, and Elanor repeated the process. Tyler could feel Derek's glare but ignored it. He hadn't made the guy do anything. You roll the dice, and sometimes they come up snake-eyes. 

"There," Elanor said. "Punishment panties let you stay in your messy diaper longer without worrying about leaks. They help contain a bit of the smell. But only a bit. Don't be surprised if some of the other boys avoid you and your stinky britches."

The two women Elanor had sent off wheeled two massive plastic-and-metal contraptions to the front of the line. Circular, they had white plastic trays on the front with red vinyl seats dangling in the center. Eight wheels ringed the bottom.

"These are our special walkers. Maybe you've heard them called exercise saucers? You can still attend classes, eat your lunch, and nearly everything else the other boys will be doing. But you'll be easier to keep an eye on." Elanor put her hand up. "And before you complain, know that you won't change my mind. Arguing will just extend the time." 

The two women stepped forward. They lifted Tyler by each arm, like a couple of bouncers preparing to throw someone out of a nightclub, then dropped him into the walker seat unceremoniously. 

"Ah!" he cried out as the foul mess in his diaper squelched further into the front and up the back of the diaper. He'd seen Monica's nephew in something like this once. The kid had just barely been able to reach his toes down to the floor and push himself around. This one had the opposite problem: Tyler's knees shoved up against the bottom of the tray. Every time he'd try to move, they'd be knocking against it.

Derek landed with a thud in the walker next to him, his face livid with rage now. He seethed and stared, as if this was all Tyler's fault. 

Elanor looked down at them both. "Now let's get you boys to your next class. Miss Holly is teaching today and I'm sure you'll both be excited to learn whatever she has to teach you, hhhhmmm?" 
 

[dirtydingus84]

glad to see this story again and hope to see more updates sooner

[keith60]

i hope there is more of this story soon

 

[deewet]

Interesting turn of events, but I was wondering, the walker they were put into, why don't the just stand up to move around, as opposed to bumping their knees on the tray to move.  No mention of any restraint system in play so that would be the logical thing to do I suspect?  

In any case, just a small point to a really great story, please  keep it going as I am sure our hero has a lot more in store for him before he gets to leave this facility.

[Victoria Green Books]

Thanks @dirtydingus84 @keith60 and @deewet ! Glad you're enjoying the story. 

Deewet - While I'd love to provide a great, in-universe explanation, the truth is...it was an oversight on my part. Good catch!