Bad Ass Toy

[diaperpt]

BAD-ASS TOY

It was Friday night and it had been a long week at work. On Saturday morning, I was supposed to pack up my stuff and get ready to move out of my apartment. I’d arranged for a storage shed and was set to move out of state and look for a new job. I’d been laid off and this had been my last day. My divorce was going to be final soon and I couldn’t even afford this crummy place I’d had for six months. My ex was pretty bitter and was working hard to drain me of any money I had. I’ll be pretty honest – my life sucked at that moment!

I decided to go out to my favorite watering hole one last time, so after showering and putting on some clean jeans and a shirt got in my car and headed out. The bar was just two exits up I-91 and as I signaled to turn off the exit, I noticed this little yellow jeep behind me. The thing that struck me about it was that there was lettering across the top of the windshield saying, “BAD-ASS GIRLS HAVE BAD-ASS TOYS.” I wondered what kind of woman would drive something like that and I thought about my ex. She wasn’t what you’d call ‘bad-ass’ – just plain bad. I looked ahead to several nice tall glasses of beer and trying to drink away the bad memories as I noticed the jeep taking the left into the parking lot of the bar.

I artificially took my time getting out of the car, so I could see what this ‘bad-ass’ girl looked like. She was fairly tall, slim, but obviously muscular for a woman. She was blond and had a cute, shy look.

I’d gawked enough and headed into the bar. As I walked in and sat alone at one end of the bar, a tall bottle of Coors Light was being placed in front of her at the other end of the bar. I ordered my usual Bass on tap and began to nurse it. I began watching the NBA game on the big TV over the bar and let my mind wander from this woman, from the events of the week, and most importantly, from all the shitty details of my life.

My third Bass was set in front of me, when I heard the voice behind me, “Say, would you mind if I sat here? I’m not from around here and it’s pretty lonely drinking by myself.” Her voice matched the cute, shy appearance of her face; it was the “bad-ass” girl in the jeep.

I nodded, she sat down next to me and we began to talk. I couldn’t resist asking about the logo on her windshield. She laughed a cute little laugh and explained she just thought it was funny – she said she really is pretty shy – it took all her courage to ask to sit with me. The catch of the logo, though, is that she works for a toy company up in Vermont. She was coming back from a toy show in NYC, had gotten hung up in major traffic and just decided to get a motel room. She hated the sterile motel bars and so asked about a local bar and had been steered here.

We hit it off pretty well. She certainly took my mind off my troubles and was making me feel good about myself for the first time in months. Things got even better as she began to turn romantic. She leaned in, kissed me on the lips and turned to whisper in my ear, “How about coming to my room? I’d love to get to know you better.” After expressing a little hesitation and explaining why I was hesitant about any romantic entanglement, I gave in. Why the hell not feel good for a little while? We’d have a roll in the sack, I’d go home to my misery and she’d be gone in the morning.

She ordered one last round while I went to the men’s room and relieved my bladder. When I returned, we kissed some more, finished our drinks and headed out. I followed her back one exit on I-91 to her motel. By the time I got there and parked, I could feel the exhaustion of the week. I began to think this wasn’t such a good idea – was I just going to fall asleep on this cute doll? I got out of my car and stood next to the passenger side of her jeep as she got out and came around to meet me. I was really getting fuzzy by then – this was more than just exhaustion. I didn’t feel well at all and began to think I might pass out. She took one look at me, opened the passenger door of her jeep and told me how pale I looked and to sit down. I practically fell into the seat. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what’s happening. I feel so faint. This is so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m going to take good care of you. Don’t worry. Just relax. I’m sure you’ll feel better in a little while and then we can play. Don’t worry…” I didn’t hear her finish the sentence as I slipped into a dark void.

Slowly I came to my senses again. The first thing I noticed was motion – I realized I had to be in a moving vehicle. Ann couldn’t be taking me back to my apartment because she had no idea where it was. The next thing I noticed was that I was terribly uncomfortable. I was lying on my stomach and my legs were pulled tightly together, bent at the knee. I could tell my hands were somehow fastened together behind my back. I tried to move, but I felt like I must be strapped down. As I opened my eyes, I realized I must be in the back of this jeep, strapped down tightly. I could only see one strap hooked to a bolt on the floor; there had to be three others holding me there efficiently. When I tried to speak, I found I could only mumble past a ball gag fastened by a strap around my head.

Ann’s voice came from in front of me. “We’re in the driveway right now, Baby. Almost time to begin to play!” This certainly wasn’t the play I had in mind. I knew a little about bondage but had never experienced it. I wondered what this outwardly cute and shy girl had in mind…maybe I would enjoy it.

Soon the jeep came to a stop and Ann got out of the jeep. I heard her say, “Here’s our latest. Take him out and get him set up. I’ll look in later on.”

The back of the jeep opened up and I felt the restraining belts loosen. Next I felt hands on my legs and I was dragged out roughly. All I could see was legs – silky stockinged legs in heels. I was being carried by two obviously strong women. Terror seized me and I began to sense that what I’d at first thought wasn’t a really smart idea was turning into a nightmare! I had no idea what was to come, nor could I possibly have imagined.

I was carried up a large set of stone steps into the house, then through a large vestibule and into a waiting elevator. I was placed onto the floor as I felt the elevator rise. This obviously wasn’t her hotel, but where was I?

When the elevator stopped, I was again picked up by these two women, carried down a hall and through a massive wooden doorway. The elegant hallway (well, the carpeting looked nice – that was all I could see!) gave way to a cold, sterile tiled floor in the glare of harsh fluorescent lighting. In an instant, I was lifted and set down on a long, narrow, well padded bench. I felt my legs and arms released only to be quickly flipped onto my back. It all happened so fast, I had no chance to react. Suddenly I was looking up at this pair of women as they quickly fastened straps across my body so I was again unable to move. They were both tall; 5 ½ feet or more and dressed in the proverbial French maid outfit; short flouncy skirts with lots of lace and a little white apron. Their hair was done up and they had the cute little maid’s hats perched on their well coifed hair. I decided these women were far from cute, however.

Their movements seemed well rehearsed and coordinated. Without saying a word they went about their work. My eyes bulged and I mumbled my protest into the ball gag filling my mouth. My belt was unbuckled and taken off, while my shoes and socks were removed. The strap around my legs was loosened and heavy duty sheers coursed up my legs, shredding my pants and soon I was lying there in only my boxers. That didn’t last either, as the sheers did their work and I was suddenly nude from the waist down. My shirt was next and I was now completely naked, strapped to this table by these two women.

Next, one of them stepped away and returned with a syringe which was unceremoniously plunged into my thigh. Things quickly faded to black.

My head hurt as fuzzy consciousness returned once more. I realized I was on my back with my arms at my sides and my legs somewhat spread. When I went to move, I realized I must be restrained again. I rolled my head to the side and slowly opened my eyes. Vertical lines began to focus in front of me and I slowly realized they were stainless steel bars. I looked up to see another set of stainless steel bars above me. Beneath me, as I struggled to move, I heard the hard crinkle of plastic. Beyond the bars, on the other side of the room, I saw open shelves stacked with white cloth and other stacks of what seemed to be multi-colored piles of plastic. Glass front cabinets above were well stocked with various jars, bottles and other containers. I could lift my head enough to see a short T-shirt on me with some sort of printing on the front, ending above my waist which seemed to bulge out in a bright yellow plastic ball. I could feel a thickness and warmth around my waist and even though my legs were splayed out at an angle, I could feel bulk holding them apart. The ball gag in my mouth had been replaced with a softer more flexible gag firmly attached by a set of straps around my head. I could squeeze the gag, but when I released my tongue, it again filled my mouth.

I lay there a while before I realized the pressure in my bladder. I had to go to the bathroom soon or I’d be in trouble. Whatever was going on wasn’t good, but I didn’t want to compound my problems by peeing myself.

As I tightened my muscles trying to control my needs, I heard a door open and Ann’s voice, “Hi Baby. How are you? Are you getting used to things at all?” I looked up between the bars to see her cute smile looking down at me. “You don’t know what happened, do you? Let me tell you just a little. Remember I told you I work for a toy company? Well I do. And I was on a trip to shop for toys. But the surprise for you is that YOU are the toy!”

“You see, our real business here is the purchase, training and sale of adult toys. We have a very silent network across the country set up to ‘acquire’ new toys like you. Your ex-wife found out about us and sold you to us for a very small amount. She realized you weren’t going to do her any good without a job and she didn’t want to let you slip off somewhere and escape alimony. So there you go. You are going into training to be an adult toy. Your ex set you up and I simply followed you from your apartment to the bar. Your last drink had a rather slow acting sedative and while I was prepared to bring you into the motel, you very nicely helped me by passing out right into my front seat. I won’t bother telling you where in Vermont we are. I will say, although very secluded and secure, we are just a few hours drive up 91 from your former home.

You’ve already met Brian and Al. Well, their names now are Brianna and Alison. They were purchased as raw material and have been trained to be workers here for us. So far they are still anatomically males, but they certainly look striking as the French maids they’ve become. Don’t you agree?”

“Now, if you hadn’t noticed, you are dressed in a cute little baby tee and are wearing thick diapers. Had you noticed that we’ve removed all your body hair? Yes, you are quite a cute little baby now and you’ll soon be acting the part as well. Your training will begin in the morning, although I can see by the look on your face that you may lose control of your bladder soon.”

My face reddened at this thought and when she reached through the bars to press against my stomach through the plastic pants covering the thick diaper cloth, it took little pressure for my bladder to explode. Suddenly a felt a surge of hot pee escape and flood the tight confines of my midsection. As my own pee flowed down between my legs, a damp warmth spread out from the head of my penis. Ann laughed as she witnessed me wetting myself for the first time in probably thirty years. “There you go, baby. That’s a good start!”

She turned but spoke to one of the ‘women’ who had just entered the room, “Alison, set him up with two quarts of juice, change his diaper and leave him for the night.” “Very well, Mistress Ann,” spoke the obviously male voice of this very strange French maid.

The top bars of this cage were flipped up and the front bars lowered, clanking ominously. I felt a tug at the sides of the plastic pants as “Alison’ unsnapped four snaps on each side, then proceeded to unpin the thick cloth diapers covering my midsection. “Want to see yourself, Baby?” she said. She propped up my head so I could look down at a hairless crotch and equally hairless legs. I felt disembodied, as I thought, this couldn’t really be me.

Still, I had felt the wet diaper cloth and plastic pants pulled away, I smelled the sweetly perfumed wipe and felt violated as it coursed around my balls and penis. I was forced to push my bottom up slightly and felt it wipe my butt cheeks. I sensed the softness of the triple thick diaper cloth slid beneath me. The feeling of violation continued as gentle hands applied baby scented oil to my groin area and rubbed it in. Next I felt the bulk of the cloth as it was drawn up through my legs and fastened very tightly with two pink headed diaper pins on each side. I was made to push my butt up again as I heard the crinkle of plastic pants slid beneath the thick cloth. I heard the snap, snap as I felt the elastic legs and waist of the pale blue diaper pants form a protective line around my body, locking in and securing the diaper around my now baby smooth body.

It was hard to believe, but this was my body – shaved, now diapered, strapped down, and finally as the bars clanked shut, locked into a cage not unlike a secure baby crib. ‘Alison’ stepped away for just a moment and when her shadow returned above me, I saw a huge clear bag hung on a pole at my head with a hose leading down and now being attached to the front of the gag in my mouth.

“Don’t try to fight your juice, Baby. Just swallow. You need the nourishment. You’ll figure out eventually what else it will do for you, but whatever else it does, it will help you fall asleep. Drink up, now and have a nice sleep!” The liquid flowed and instinctively I swallowed, only allowing more liquid into my mouth. It tasted sweet, but had an aftertaste which I could only sense as I was forced to continue drinking until all of it was gone. As I drank I felt every muscle in my body relax. The terror I’d felt since first waking in the back of the jeep faded into a fog of indifference. The lights went off, the door closed and soft soothing music further lulled me to the point where I remember thinking I just didn’t care what was happening to me. My eyes had shut and I felt consciousness slipping away, but not before I sensed the warm wet release of pee into the fresh diaper cloth.

As I slept, I dreamed calm dreams of wetting and not caring. I was in my old office standing at my desk talking to my boss as a wet spot appeared and spread down my leg. I was sitting at the breakfast table with my ex-wife and I ended sitting in a puddle with soaked pajamas. I sat at my favorite bar watching a football game as peed soaked my pants and dripped onto the floor. Scene after scene, I calmly allowed myself to void with no embarrassment or sense of there being anything wrong. In each scene, the two French maids would appear, lift me onto a flat surface; my desk, the kitchen table, the bar; take my clothes off me and diaper me. It all seemed so natural.

I had no sense of how long the dreams lasted or how long I slept, but as I woke slowly in this crib-cage I sensed from the light coming in the window that the sun was directly overhead. It had to be at least noon. My relaxed state had disappeared and I felt very agitated. I pulled at the bonds holding my arms at my sides and my legs at an angle into the corners of the crib. The elastic waist and legs of the plastic pants felt like they were biting me, the hot wet cloth beneath told me I’d humiliated myself by peeing voluminously without my conscious knowledge or approval. The efficient gag in my mouth prevented me from verbalizing my thoughts, but I grunted loudly in disgust and shame.

The door flew open and French maid Alison bustled into the room. “Good morning, Baby,” she said as she hung a huge bag of whitish liquid on the pole above my head and threaded a hose from it into my gag. “Here’s baby’s formula! You might not like the taste, but you get no choice. You won’t like what it does to you either, little one! I wasn’t thrilled to come here either, but you’ll get used to it. Although being able to inflict some of this onto you does make me feel a little better and your fate is to be a Baby-Slave. Oh well. No matter. Eat it all and I’ll be back soon for your bath.”

She (he?) was right; the taste was awful. I thought I’d never finish it as it seemed to bloat my stomach beyond capacity. Beyond whatever nutrition it contained, it obviously was drugged as well. Mentally I was alert and my sensitivity and emotions heightened while physically I felt all my strength drain out of me. As I finished the last of this formula and my bladder release involuntarily yet again, I began to cry; something I had not done since I was a little child. Not even my horrible divorce, nor my job loss and seeing my life go down the drain had brought me to tears. Now I balled and felt hot salty tears roll down my cheeks as I began to feel the meaning of the words “Baby Slave” infringe into my reality.

When would this end? Would it? Could they really make me a baby and keep me as a slave? In this day and age? It didn’t seem possible, but the facts of my weakened body locked into very wet diapers, locked into a crib stacked up against any hope I might have had.

My balling had subsided to misty tears, as two French Maids reappeared. They released me from the crib and in my weakened state, easily got me up and practically dragged me through a door on the other side of the room into a bathroom. A large tub had already been filled with warm water topped by foamy soap bubbles. As they removed my tee shirt, plastic pants and diapers, I noticed a large laundry sink and a tall stainless pail labeled clearly “Dirty Diapers.” I also noticed the lack of a toilet. It seemed strange to me at first, but I quickly remembered that these people had no thought of allowing me to use a toilet. I was diapered for a reason; I would have no need of a toilet.

My hope for the future sinking fast, I was helped into the tub where I felt the sweet soapy water wash away the residue of my own urine in which I’d been encased. They warned me about talking and removed the gag from my mouth.

“It’s nice. Your bath water has bubble bath for little baby, a little oil for lubrication and some liquid depilatory to keep your nasty pubic and body hair from coming back. All in all, it will give you nice smooth, baby soft skin. Isn’t that nice?” said Alison.

I cringed and begged, “Please don’t do this to me. You can let me go. Let me escape and we can all leave together. Please!”

“Now, we warned you about talking. We won’t punish you this time because it gives us a chance to explain something to you. Don’t even think of escape. It won’t happen. First of all, the drugs have made you so weak you would never make it to the edge of the property. But then, the locked and barred windows and heavy duty door locks will keep you in anyway. Next, unless you are good at three rows of razor wire on top of ten foot high chain link fence, you won’t be going far either.”

“Finally, as we found out from a guy who’d been caught like you as well who managed to get out before they added the razor wire, this place is registered with the government as a legitimate private home for mentally and emotionally troubled men. If you were to get out, the local residents would turn you over to the authorities in a heart beat. That one guy made it out in a diaper, plastic panties and a onesie. No one believed his story about being captured and forced into diapers. He was back here within three hours and spent the next three weeks in punishment.”

“No, I’ve had a couple opportunities to try an escape and believe me, that one guy convinced me it just wasn’t going to work. And then they put up the razor wire! I’m certainly not going to get caught letting you go! No way, Baby!”

Just when I had lost almost all hope, the last rays were snatched away. My heightened emotions caused me to break out in tears again. SMACK! “Stop crying, baby, STOP!” SMACK! My cheeks burned as one then the other has slapped by my French maid care-giver. Still, the tears came, as my manhood and my hope for the future went.

I did my best to stop crying and felt to pathetic sobs as I was lifted from the tub and roughly dried by thick towels. Tears continued to streak my cheeks as my gag – they insisted on calling it my pacifier – was put back in and I was led back to the room and a waiting exam table. I was made to lie down then strapped in. Stirrups were brought out and my legs awkwardly splayed into them, exposing my bottom. The snap of exam gloves pierced my consciousness and I felt sweet smelling baby lotion poured out and smoothed into the area I knew would soon be covered by a diaper. I cringed as a gloved finger began probing my exposed rosette. I’d always hated my annual rectal exam during my physical and now the humiliation was ten-fold as first one, then multiple fingers stretched and parted this private hole.

“You haven’t voided yet. We need to help you with that. Your formula and your juice will add the bulk you need and the stool softener to allow you to have free bowel movements, but this first time you need some help.”

She held up two silver bullet shaped objects and said, “See? One of these would do the job nicely, so just imagine how well two of these little suppositories will clean you out! They’ll only cramp you a little before they blast your insides right out into your cute little diapers!” She smiled and held each close so I couldn’t avoid watching her unwrap each little bullet. She took obvious pleasure in inserted each one, pushing it far, far into my rectum. She wiggled her finger inside me to add to my shame then pulled my diaper tight, pinned me in and snapped on two layers of plastic pants.

Even with the final snaps of the pants, I felt my insides begin to roil. “I’m going to stay and watch, so I’ll know if you let them slide out too soon. You are to hold them in for as long as you absolutely can. If you let them out too soon, you’ll also get an enema you’ll remember forever!”

My bowels gurgled and I felt I was going to explode immediately. As she led me, I waddled my way back to my crib and allowed myself to be restrained again. I squeezed my muscles as hard as I could trying to avoid expelling my bowels right then; both for my fear of an enema and for the feared embarrassment of what the two suppositories would inevitably do with the contents of my lower intestines. “Oh, Baby, I think you are in deep trouble! Look at you squirm and it’s only been five minutes! I want you to hold for 40 minutes. Don’t you have any control? I thought we were going to have to work hard to break you, but here you are; not even able to hold in your poop. Maybe you are just a little baby after all; maybe that’s all you ever were.” I shook my head side to side in denial of this, both aware that I was being taunted and determined to prove her wrong.

I squeezed my muscles more, but my efforts weren’t as effective as they might be because of the thick diapers between my legs and because my ankles were restrained so far apart. Still, I squeezed and I could feel the damaging bullets within me being sucked further inside. I felt a slight burn, a slide, and an urgent desire to push to which I’d squeeze again. Over and over the cycle ran. My tormentor and care-giver smiled down and said, “Keep trying, Baby. Even a five year old can hold his poop better than this; I can tell you aren’t going to make it.”

My face reddened more and with more resolve I squeezed harder. “Baby, it’s only been 15 minutes. Are you going to be able to last 25 more? You are pathetic. You know what? I’m going to just go ahead and start preparing the enema, OK?”

“Mmmmmmmpppppphhhhhhhhhhh” I mumbled into the gag. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmppppphhhhh!” I was screaming, “NO! NO! Not an enema!” All that came out was a pathetic “Mmmmmmmmmpppphhhhhh.”

“You are just such a little baby. I can’t believe it. Twenty minutes – halfway – can you hold it back? A five year old can hold his poop; you don’t consider yourself an adult, do you?” “Mmmmmmmmppphhhh.” I moaned. I wasn’t going to give in. I wasn’t going to poop into this diaper. I was an adult, not a little baby. Five year old wasn’t the issue; I was an adult. I squeezed, but this time I sensed my muscles actually worked against me and a felt a mass slip lower toward my anus. “Oh, you little Baby. It won’t be long now. I’ll wait and get the enema ready later; this is just too precious to miss!”

Another squeeze, but again counterproductive and this time I felt the mass nearing my sphincter. I prepared to squeeze one more time and as I did, I was surprised as the surge within me would not be stopped or even slowed. Suddenly I felt a bulge in the seat of my diaper; there was a short pause then the bulge grew. I felt a mountain of hot mush at my backsides and I knew I’d been defeated. The look on my face told it all.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! I think this is an all time record for our little babies here. I can’t believe you couldn’t even come close to holding your poop for 40 minutes. Twenty-six minutes and here you are, shitting your brains out into your diaper. What a little baby you are. Wait til I tell Mistress Ann! She may even shorten your training time, since you’re helping so much!”

As much as the humiliation of the turd in my diaper burned into my psyche, the thought that I might actually be helping my ‘baby-slave training’ crushed me. What I didn’t know was that most others in this same situation gave in to the relentless movement caused by even one suppository within 15 minutes. What I didn’t know didn’t help me; all I knew was that more and more I was being made to do the things a baby did.

Alison rushed out of the room saying she couldn’t wait to tell the others what a big baby I was becoming. Not only did I have to lie there in my own shit, which continued to squeeze its way into my diaper, but I peed twice without being able to control myself at all. On one level, I realized this was being caused by the drugs I was continually receiving. It didn’t matter though; my adulthood was being snatched away and I realized I was becoming truly dependent on diapers.

I lay there for what seemed to be hours before Alison and Brianna came into the room. I was given a thorough cleanup then re-diapered. My next meal was a double bag of thick formula followed by a double bag of juice. Again, I could tell this juice contained the drugs which both weakened my physical state and heightened my emotions. Soon I was sobbing, and the last of the juice trickled into my mouth. Brianna explained that I wouldn’t get my enema until first thing in the morning, after the bulk in the formula had a chance to work through my system. She continued on to humiliate me about my inability to control myself; she said she’d never seen someone lose both urine and bowel continence so easily and willingly. She implied strongly that I was actually cooperating and deep down must want to be incontinent; must want to become a baby. When she sensed I was at the very depths of despair, she leaned into my crib, kissed my forehead and slammed and locked the bars noisily as if to further slam into my consciousness what a baby I was becoming.

All too soon, lights were turned on and I was woken out of an incomplete and restless night’s sleep. I’d dreamed of wetting and pooping both in my old street clothes and in what I’d begun to think of as ‘my’ diapers. Unlike other times when I’d dreamed pleasant dreams of such, I was tormented and humiliated as my eyes forced themselves to open. There was Alison. “Oh I’m so excited! It’s almost enema time! Since you couldn’t hold two little suppositories for forty minutes, we’re going to use a double Bardex on you. Do you know what that is?”

I had no idea, but it seemed ominous and her joy only added to my dread. I was told I wouldn’t be changed yet, until it was actually time for my enema, so I was immediately given my breakfast; again a double bag of formula and a double bag of juice. On top of what I’d been given the previous evening, I thought I’d explode. I was able to stretch out the last bag of juice just a little, though the flow kept me swallowing faster than I wanted to.

When it was time, Alison and Brianna came in and together worked to remove my diaper and clean me up. Why, I didn’t know since I knew full well I’d be getting very messy all too soon.

Brianna brought out something I’d not seen here up to this time; two very thick disposable diapers. She poked holes in the plastic coverings as she explained I was going to have so much to expel that cloth diapers would both get too messy and wouldn’t be able to handle everything. This did little to ease my fear of what was to come.

I was placed onto the exam table on top of the double disposables which in turn were on top of a triple set of cloth, with my feet strapped into the stirrups. First baby oil, then a thick coating of diaper rash crème was applied and rubbed in thoroughly all over my diaper area. Next a huge cold glob of KY jelly was plopped onto my poor little rosette and while Alison ran a gloved finger in and out, preparing me, Brianna took more KY and being careful that I observed her, liberally applied it to a long nozzle with two small bulbs at the other end. “Here you go, Baby. Take a deep breath and relax. It won’t hurt so much.”

I felt the violator begin its entry. I gasped a little as it went further and further in. I’d never had any kind of enema before and this didn’t seem like it was going to be fun! Suddenly I realized how much fun this wasn’t to be, as Brianna forced the bulb in. I grunted into my pacifier as it seated with a plop. If that wasn’t bad enough, I thought I was going to split apart as I heard the whoosh of the bulb beginning to inflate and I felt the bulb grow within me. While I knew it couldn’t be very big, it might as well have been a grapefruit. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh and the outer bulb began to inflate. When Brianna felt it was secure, she gave a little tug; the nozzle was going nowhere fast.

Alison chuckled as she placed an enormous bag on a pole placed at the end of the exam table. With the hose connected, I suddenly felt a warm flood rage into me. They’d given me no warning and I lay there in terror with the enema flowing in so fiercely. Several times they stopped the flow and massaged my ever expanding belly, working the liquid further and further into my intestines to work its devious magic. More and more liquid was forced in and I began to see how much my belly had expanded. Just as I began to fear physical harm from taking in too much of the enema fluid, the flow stopped.

“OK, Baby. There you go. You couldn’t hold the suppositories for 40 minutes; do you think we’re giving you a choice now? Ha ha! With the Bardex in place, you won’t be getting rid of that enema until we say so; and we say it’s going to be 40 minutes.”

The end of the nozzle was worked around so the disposables could be taped on. Then the cloth diapers were pulled up tight; the angle of it made the nozzle hurt, but there was no way it was going to be dislodged. Finally two pair of plastic pants were pulled up my legs and over the largest set of diapers I’d ever seen. Finally, a huge pair of rubber bloomers were put over my legs and pulled up in preparation for the eventual removal of the nozzle.

My two French maids retreated with the promise that they would be gone at least forty minutes. They made sure to point to the large wall clock right in front of me and adjusted the time so I could easily keep track of the slow passage of time.

I lay in agony and no amount of movement would have eased my pain, but still I was strapped in tightly and could not move at all. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Time dragged but the fullness of my stomach from my large breakfast and the huge flood of enema fluid kept a steady, painful pressure within. Even though I was as full as I could possibly be, I could feel and hear the gurgling and churning of the contents of my bowels begging to be set free.

Fifteen minutes, then twenty; time dragged. I thought I was going to pass out. Finally, thirty-five, thirty-six minutes…exactly at forty minutes, I heard footsteps outside the door.

“Here we are Baby. Are you ready? You want us to take out the nozzle, don’t you? Oh, but do you realize what that’s going to mean? You think you were messy before! I tell you what, Baby. If there is any more adult left in you, you ought to be able to hold back the flow for five minutes. Don’t you think, Brianna?” “Only five minutes? That’s ridiculous. Even this little baby can hold it for five minutes!” said Brianna. “Well, anyway, Baby, if you can hold off for five minutes, I’ll clean you up a half hour after you’re done. If not, you wait two hours. Is that a deal?”

I didn’t even bother reacting. I knew I had no choice. I would do my best. At the same time, I began to realize this was just another opportunity to torment me and rub in the idea that I was no longer an adult, but a little baby who had no control.

Brianna released the air from the two bulbs and with a forceful tug pulled the nozzle clear of two pair of disposables, three layers of cloth and two pairs of plastic pants. As she pulled the nozzle out, Alison tugged at each set of diapers, adjusting them as best she could to prepare for the flood to come. Finally she pulled up the big rubber bloomers and tugged them over the huge ball around my middle.

I was making a determined effort to hold in the tide, but not a minute and a half had elapsed before the storm surge began. The pair of French maids laughed and laughed as I turned red from the embarrassment of the flood rushing out of my asshole and the resulting smell beginning to waft throughout the room.

“Oh Baby. No control at all. You are so pathetic. I think you like your diapers and plastic pants. You want to be a diaper slave, don’t you? Well, I guess you might as well want it, because you’ve got no choice in the matter. Still, what a little baby!”

When the major flow stopped, I could feel my diapers at more than capacity. Front and back of the disposables were soaked and filled with lumpy excrement. Just when I thought I’d expelled everything within me, more would flow out – at first in sporadic rushes, then in slow trickles. Two hours later, I was taken to the bathroom with brown liquid dripping down each leg. I was a total mess and very happy to have a bath. I was taken out immediately however, dried and placed back in a double disposable and double cloth diapers. As even more effluent trickled out over the rest of the day, I realized why.

I slept in slow spurts all that day as I recovered from the exhaustion of this cruel procedure. I couldn’t imagine that I’d need to poop again for days! That evening, after my dinner of formula and juice, I was bathed, dried and brought back to the exam table. I was placed with my legs in the stirrups and oiled, but before my diapers were pulled up and pinned, Brianna said, “You did just great today. The fact you couldn’t hold the enema just shows how ready you are to be a baby. Even so, we want to help you even more, so Mistress Ann wants us to help you with this.” She held up the largest dildo I’d ever seen. I was shown how even though it was tapered it was hollow. “This way, we can leave it in place longer and you can just shit straight through it!”

I was lubed and slowly the device was pressed in. I felt I was going to split in two before it finally seated itself with a plop. I was in pain and wasn’t going to find any relief soon.

“The idea is that this is going to help stretch your muscles so you won’t be able to control them. Your urinary continence is just about shot now; we’ve dropped the level of drugs and you’re still peeing like there’s no tomorrow.” I didn’t know that this wasn’t true, but another ploy to undermine me psychologically. It worked. I was devastated. Even as I lay there with the dildo up my butt and without a diaper on, I felt a dribble of pee escape involuntarily. “See. Even without the huge dose of drugs, you just can’t control. You are a baby, aren’t you?”

I was so upset I didn’t even realize I was nodding in agreement. Inside, I had given up. I was going to be a baby no matter how hard I fought against it. I wondered if maybe somewhere inside me I did want this; maybe I did want to be diapered and treated like a baby. Why else would I be losing control so easily, as they had pointed out to me?

As my diapers were pulled up and pinned, I began to sense a comfort from having them in place. The elastic legs and waist of the diaper pants seemed to hold me securely rather than bite into my skin. I needed my diaper and plastic pants and I was happier and more secure when they were in place. And if this were true, then just maybe I was the baby they were saying I was.

Ann had been in and out over the last several days to check on me, but hadn’t said much of anything. Later that day she came in and looked at me as I lay in the crib. “You really have become the little baby you always wanted to be, haven’t you?” I looked up at her and without questioning the part about always wanting to be, I nodded in acceptance of my defeat. “You really do need your diapers and plastic panties, don’t you? You’ve really come to like them, haven’t you?” Again, realizing I was beat, I nodded. At the same time, there really was a part of me that was beginning to like the security of wearing diapers. “OK. I’m going to take out your pacifier, so we can have a conversation. You may not speak except to answer me, do you understand?” I nodded. I wasn’t up for punishment and I knew if I disobeyed Ann I’d be in for severe treatment.

“Now that you’ve realized how much of a baby you really are, its time to begin the slave part of your training. We’ve found that it is so much easier to train someone who is at least willing to become the type of slave we need. For instance, once Brianna realized how much she needs diapers, she practically begged to become one of my maids.”

My eyes bulged. I’d never thought of either Brianna or Alison as being baby-slaves. I’d never seen any indication of diapers or anything of the sort. Ann saw the look in my eye and said, “Yes, it’s true. They are both baby-slaves trained to be French maids. Brianna! Come here, please!”

Brianna scurried into the room with a flourish, curtseyed and said, “Yes, Mistress Ann. What may I do for you?”

“Please lift up your skirt and petticoats.” Brianna complied, showing frilly panties. “Now pull down the panties so our little Baby here, can see that you too are nothing but a big Baby just trained to act grown up.” “Yes Mistress Ann.” The top of the frilly panties came down to expose a cute pair of pink plastic panties. Brianna then pulled down the top of the plastic panties to reveal what seemed to be a fairly wet cloth diaper.

Mistress Ann said, “Very well, Brianna, put yourself back together and get on with your chores. From the look of things, you ought to take your diaper break a little early. Be careful not to exceed your quota for the day, however. Have that sniveling little William change you and remind him I wasn’t happy with the results of his laundering the other day.” Brianna carefully lifted the plastic panties, then the frillies and adjusted her skirt and petticoats, curtseyed and left the room.

“So there. Would you like to be a French maid, like Brianna and Alison, who are in charge of our new babies? Would you like to be a French maid who dusts and cleans? I think I’ve seen some of your feminine side shining through; you might enjoy this.” I shook my head quickly. I had no inclination to cross dress. I knew I was now the baby I needed to be all my life, but I had no urge to dress as a woman. “Have you any cooking skills? Our present cook has a deposit on him from one of our prominent European clients and will be leaving us soon. We can always use warehouse workers, but you really are too little and weak for that. I shouldn’t have even brought that up.”

I listened in dread; especially to the part about the cook having a ‘deposit’ on him; we really were slaves to be bought and sold! “Have I mentioned anything you might be interested in, my little cutie?” Even when asked to talk, I was too afraid to actually speak. I lowered my eyes respectfully and shook my head. “Well, you are a little cutie. You’ve got some time before we have to make a decision for you. Think about some of the things I’ve offered you. Frankly, if you don’t come up with something, you may actually be trained to replace Alison. I do have someone who is interested in her. She may be sold as a domestic to a man out in Los Angeles. You are a little cutie; I can really see you with long hair, some nice make-up and with a hormone enhanced bust like Alison, you would look great. How would that be, little one?”

This time, I had the courage to look up and speak, “Mistress Ann, I really don’t want to be turned into a woman. Please, Mistress Ann. I’m not sure what you’ll do with me, but I want to stay a man…I mean a baby boy.”

“Hmmm. OK, we’ll see,” she said. She reached in between the bars of my crib and put her hand on my plastic pants. She stroked them lightly and I could feel an immediate swelling. “Hmmm. I see.” She stroked me more and I felt my penis stiffen struggling against its tight confines within my diaper. More stroking and I felt myself nearing a sexual release I’d not experience since I’d masturbated the night before my capture. I struggled to achieve what my body ached for, but Mistress Ann’s hand retreated outside the bars. “Hmmm. I see,” she said again. I looked at her with pleading eyes and began to buck in my restraints hoping to achieve just enough motion to finish what she’d cruelly left undone. “No, Baby. Not now. You are a slave and will only be allowed what Mistress says you may have. Stop the bucking, now.”

With the crinkling of the plastic sheet, I didn’t hear her and tried for release. “STOP! NOW!” This I heard, but too late.

“Alison. Come here at once.” Alison dashed into the room. “Put the dimple on him right now, then once an hour for the rest of today, I want you to come in and stimulate him to misery. Do you understand?” “Yes Mistress Ann.”

The ‘dimple’ was a plastic tube which was fit over my penis and secured with chains and belts around my waist and legs. Inside, as its name suggested, were dimples. Actually, not so much dimples as hard plastic points on the top and sides of the tube ready to dig into my flesh if even the faintest tumescence came about. Alison looked at me with pitying eyes as she fixed it in place and replaced my diapers and panties. She then began to stroke the front of my panties. With the inevitable hard on, I screamed in pain as the ‘dimples’ dug into my tender flesh. I went soft and then stimulated again, was in agony. Each hour for eight more hours, I was stroked to the cruelest agony my penis had ever known.

When Alison came in once more I looked up with pleading eyes. “No, Baby. It’s OK. I can take it off now.” After taking off the dreaded dimple, she reached over and began stoking me. The deep fear within of the pain which my suffering penis had endured through the day left me deflated. She continued stroking me tenderly however, and after a time, my penis stirred to life. I looked at Alison with fear in my eyes. “It’s OK. Mistress Ann is out tonight and your diapers are going straight to the laundry, so no one will know. This is the least I can do.”

I barely heard her words as my rigid pole strained for a long denied climax. Suddenly Alison grabbed a corner of my diaper and caught the explosion of semen that blasted me into an incredible orgasm. I don’t know why it should be, but this was more intense than any I’d ever experienced. Load after load of cum exploded out into the diaper and I nearly fainted as I lay there in ecstasy. Alison reached in, kissed me on my forehead, cleaned me up and diapered me. Before she gently closed the top and front of my crib, she kissed me again. I gave no thought to the understanding that she was really an anatomical male, other than for the hormones which gave her D-cup breasts. She had just given me the best orgasm of my entire life and was one of two people who took care of me. In my condition; being a big, diaper wetting, pooping baby; I was helpless and depended on either Alison or Brianna for all of my needs. I realized the love that this dependency had grown within me and I smiled as the lights went out and I slipped off to sleep.

All of a sudden the lights flashed on and I was snatched out of a deep sleep. My eyes adjusted to the light to see Mistress Ann standing over my crib. With a smile on her face, she folded back the top bars and lowered the front bars of the crib. She looked me in the eyes as she reached under her cute yellow mini-skirt and began pulling down her white silk thong. It slipped to the floor and she stepped out of it and into my crib. She straddled my chest and looking into my eyes said, “Baby, I want you to pleasure me with your tongue. Can you do that?” Still dragging myself into full consciousness I was confused as to why this was happening, but nodded agreement. She released my ever-present pacifier and slid herself up to sit on my face. I reached out with my tongue and felt her love lips. My tongue darted back and forth, sliding in and out until Mistress Ann bucked and moaned above me. “More, Baby. More! Keep it up. Deeper. Yes, that’s it. Yes!” She kept me going until I thought my tongue would fall off, but finally she gasped, arched her back and screamed. She collapsed on top of me and whispered, “Oh my little baby slave. I think I’ve found your future. Let me give you something as a little reward for that climax. It was exquisite.”

She slinked off of me and began stroking the front of my diaper panties. In spite of my earlier encounter, I quickly sprang to live and soon there was a diaper tent growing above my groin. “Oh little Baby, go ahead and finish. It’s OK. Go ahead,” she said as she continued stroking the outside of my panties. The pressure grew and for the second time in only a few hours, I exploded in an orgasm which exceeded any orgasm I’d had as a teen or adult. “See, you really do love your diapers, don’t you? That’s why it’s so good; I can tell from the look on your face. You’d rather have an orgasm in your diapers than one with any woman. You’re happy now, aren’t you Baby.” Probably for the first time since I’d been taken captive by this deceptively evil woman, I smiled. “Yes, Mistress Ann. I’m happy. Thank you so much, Mistress Ann. I know I didn’t deserve that, but thank you.” “Stop now, Baby. Go back to sleep and I’ll talk with you in the morning.”

After she’d gone and I lay in my crib, realizing I’d wet yet again, it occurred to me that she had said something about finding my future. What did she mean? Any doubts or questions I had drifted out of my mind, as I lay there remembering the intense pleasure of my orgasms. Soon I drifted off into a calm and relaxed sleep.

When I woke in the morning, the intense pleasures of the previous evening floated back in pleasant memories. Although I knew better than to expect such an experience again any time soon, I couldn’t help but lay there with a bright smile behind my pacifier. Later, after my breakfast, still formula and juice, still laced with unknown drugs keeping me weak and compliant and after my morning bath, Mistress Ann walked in just as Alison was putting up the crib bars. “Don’t lock it. He’ll be going with me this morning. Get him dressed in something nice – it’s warm today, so maybe a cute pair of shorts and a little tee-shirt. Then get a stroller and bring him out to the garage. I’ll be meeting a client at the motel out by the highway.”

Contrary to logic, rather than being excited about being taken out of this house; even out of this room, I became afraid. There was no fear of the inevitable humiliation of being seen in my diapers as a big baby; I’d been so humiliated during my stay that I couldn’t imagine anything that could do more damage to my psyche. Instead, I just didn’t feel safe. Here, in my crib, except for punishments I convinced myself I deserved, I knew I was safe. I was fed, diapered and kept clean and largely without diaper rash. I was allowed to sleep as much as I needed; those were my only needs and they had been met here. To go out of this house seemed like all this was put at risk.

I knew I had not choice and so I cooperated as I knew I must. Alison put me in a cute little pair of red shorts which bulged over my diaper and allowed the world to see the bottom of my diaper panties, even as the elastic of the top of the panties peeked out as well. A tee shirt with Grover from Sesame Street was pulled over my head and came almost to the top of my diaper panties Even so, these were the first items of clothing for me other than my diapers and an occasional onesie since I’d arrived. Alison even came in with little lacy baby socks and cute sneakers with Big Bird on them. Once I’d been completely dressed, I was helped into a stroller built for handicapped adults and wheeled out into the hall. My hands had been put into thumb-less locking mittens and fastened to the arms of the chair as my legs and waist were also strapped tightly. When we reached the garage, I was wheeled from a platform via a short ramp, into the back of a van. Clamps on the floor were engaged to keep the stroller from moving and a loose black cloth hood placed over my head. “You aren’t allowed to see where you are going or where you’ve been. It isn’t that Mistress doesn’t trust you; it’s just a precaution.” I sat there for some time until Mistress Ann arrived, pulled behind the steering wheel and guided us out of the garage.

It seemed strange to be in a moving vehicle again. The last time had brought me here. Even in my fear of what might be coming and nervousness of not being able to see, I thought about what had become of me. I barely remembered my previous life; the vague recollection of my unpleasant divorce and the loss of my job seemed like several lifetimes ago. I remembered that I’d been in deep financial trouble and my future had been in serious doubt. Now I was fully cared for, had no responsibility and no concerns short of my next diaper change. My mind came back to questions of what was to come and I was afraid.

Soon the van pulled to a stop and I was left alone for a while, until I heard the side door of the van open and Mistress Ann speak, “Here he is. Would you like to try him? I’ve got to tell you I found him quite satisfactory and am tempted to keep him for myself.”

In response to this, I was brought out of the van and sensed being wheeled into a building, into an elevator and finally through a doorway. My hood was removed and I found myself looking into the face of an older woman; maybe as old as 50. “He looks very pleasant, Ann. Let’s give him a shot.”

I was wheeled over to a king-sized bed in this hotel room. I jumped a little as Ann pulled out a syringe and injected the contents into my arm. “Don’t worry, Baby. This is just a precaution.” I remained entirely awake and alert, but lost any muscle strength I had remaining. I was helped out of the stroller and onto the bed where straps were brought up and tightened to restrain me firmly on my back. Mistress Ann spoke in low whispers to the woman, then walked out into the hall.

The woman slowly unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor as she also did with her panties. She smiled at me, then slid onto the bed straddled me and presented herself to my face. “OK Baby, do your thing. If you can do a good enough job, your future is guaranteed. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to report your failure to Mistress Ann. From what she said, I have every confidence you can fill the void of my philandering husband. I don’t want his penis; your tongue should be fine.”

She lowered herself onto me and I reached up with my tongue. In spite of her age, she responded like a twenty year old. My tongue slid back and forth; darted in and out and I found myself getting hard as I worked. Her sighs and moans of satisfaction kept me going and I almost came with no direct stimulation. I kept my tongue moving until her screams subsided and she collapsed in a lump on top of me. “Oh yes, little Baby. You’ll do just fine. You’re worth every penny Ann wants for you. I’ll complete the contract, arrange for your delivery and you’ll come to live with me and my husband at our place on Long Island. Since I already have Alison on deposit, you’ll have someone to take care of you and I’ll also have some more help around the house. What do you think of that, Baby?”

Having heard the part of Alison taking care of me, I grinned from ear to ear. I nodded yes and smiled as she replaced my pacifier. My smile didn’t disappear as she reached down and finished the job begun earlier. My erection was gently rubbed through my diaper panties in the only way I’d ever again reach a climax. The intensity was not a disappointment and a happiness and contentment I’d never before known slipped across me.

A month later, I was dressed and placed in the company van. I heard another stroller rolled in, though I saw nothing because of the hood. I heard several pieces of luggage placed in the van as well and we drove off. Hours later, the van pulled up for a final stop, the strollers released from the van and the hood removed. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw Alison in her French maid dress sitting in the other stroller. We were to be together! She was brought into the huge mansion first, then after about half an hour, Alison appeared smiled at me and said, “Time to go to your room.” She wheeled me through the house and in a room containing a crib cage, exam/changing table and shelves and shelves of diapers and panties. Alison changed me and put me into the crib. My dinner that evening was cut up tiny pieces of meat and vegetables fed to me by Alison as I sat in a big highchair. I was given an oversized baby bottle of juice; undoubtedly with the same formula of drugs as usual and place into my crib. I was strapped down, but the bars remained down. Soon my new mistress entered my room, removed her panties and slid onto my face. This was my future; I was a big diaper wearing baby. I had a care-taker who also wore and used diapers. We were bad-ass toys for a bad-ass girl! I didn’t want it to be anything different. I was home.

The end.

[Latexman]

Wow!!! What an incredible story!! Although it could use a bit of work with spelling and the addition of paragraphs, this could certainly be in the top 10% of all diaper stories i've ever read!

Thanks for your excellent work,

Latexman

[Cute Baby]

Fabulous story, I look forward to the next instalment, wish this could happen in real life. Dont be long in writing the next stage.