Prequel To Sweet Captivity

[diaperpt]

Sweet Captivity – How it came to be…

You may have read about the little boy’s Sweet Captivity. This is the prequel. He doesn’t remember much of this himself, but it all really happened.

Some parts of the story will be inconsistent, but I changed them to make the story more interesting (at least to me!). The first part is semi-autobiographical – though I haven’t been caught (yet…) by my wife. And I doubt severely she’d react even as well as ‘Mistress!’

Chapter One: Beginnings

It all started when he was in seventh grade. He was a shy kid and while he had a lot of friends who were girls, He didn’t have a girl friend and probably wouldn’t have known what to do if he did – few seventh graders did back then. At any rate, he used to look forward to gym class or any chance he had to pass along outside the gym and look in at the girls’ gym classes. It wasn’t the girls so much, but their cute blue gym suits. Yeah, that may sound strange, but he loved to see their gym suits. They were a skirted suit – the top with little short sleeves and a little collar with snaps down the front and an attached skirt. It was tied at the waist with a belt. Some of the skirts hung down almost to the girl’s knees but others were pretty short. Underneath there were little bloomer panties – elastic at the legs and three buttons part way down one side holding together the elasticized waist.

He used to love to watch the girls when one might do a cartwheel or when they’d be made to do handstands. At times like those, he could get a great view of their bloomers! Of course the girls hated the gym suits, but they just fascinated him. On the last day of school that year, he was asked to empty the trash can in his homeroom. The trip took him all the way down toward the custodian’s office. Imagine his thrill, when he noticed that someone had tossed a pair of bloomers in the trash! Of course, he snuck them into his locker and then home. How lucky he was that they fit him perfectly! The elastic around the legs felt delicious and he loved doing up the buttons on the side to lock him in. He’d slip on a pair of pants over them then sneak to the bathroom to masturbate. How he loved his bloomers! Guilt eventually caused him to toss them, but he couldn’t rid himself of his desire.

Later as an adult, he managed to find ads for gym suits and eventually bought one through the mail – they didn’t have the same skirted suit, but it still excited him to slip it on. Soon he realized his outfit wasn’t complete without girl panties, so he got up my nerve and bought his first pair. They were pretty much ‘granny-pants’ and not very exciting but it got him started.

As time went on, he found that the Salvation Army thrift stores were a good place to shop for old used gym suits. He bought several – of many different styles, finally getting one just like he’d drooled over in junior high and high school. Of course, he needed more panties and gradually got up his courage to buy nice silky pairs at fancy department stores and even Victoria’s Secret. You just know that he’d have to graduate to bras as well, and so he did. He’d developed quite a stash of gym suits and underwear. He’d wear every time his wife went out and he took to taking sick days as well, just to be able to dress up in his silky, slinky bra and panties and then slide on one of his gym suits. In time, he finally added a set of breast enhancers to his wardrobe to fill his bra and while he never looked overly endowed, it completed the picture in his own imagination. He loved it!

He’d dress up every chance he got. Whenever he got his special clothes out, he’d immediately get a hard-on. He’d stretch things out as long as he could and then give himself a delicious treat – he’d stroke his ‘breasts’ with one hand while his other hand would raise the skirt of his gym suit and slip into the elastic waist of the bloomers to caress the sweet silk of his panties. He’d carefully avoid dirtying them but even so, often ended up having to wash and iron his cute little gym suits because of the explosive orgasms he would enjoy.

There were times when he was afraid he’d been found out. His wife would come home unexpectedly and he’d have to dash to change out of his special outfits. A few times he was almost positive she’d seen him, but she never said a thing, so he figured his secret was safe. He’d hidden his stash pretty well, but still there were times when he wondered if his wife could tell. Finally guilt got the better of him and he rid himself of all his gym suits – he told himself he’d outgrown them and would have a better marriage without them. Hah!

As we all know, people like him suffer these binge and purge cycles. The problem was that years had passed and these old style gym suits just weren’t around anywhere. He’d scope out ebay only to be outbid on the very few he found. Finally he settled for a cute little mini skirt. He’d scoffed up an old bra his wife had thrown out – the elastic was a little shot but worked for him. His breast forms had been tossed with the gym suits, so he’d stuff the cups with socks. He’d found some really nice panties on ebay and had stocked up on those. He’d even wear those to work now and then. He had quite a collection of colors and styles; he just loved the feeling of soft, silky panties.

Chapter Two: A Surprise!

Things all came to a head when he found himself at home alone one day dressed in his cute little mini-skirt with smooth creamy satin panties on. He had one of his own tee-shirts on but with his bra underneath. He was wondering around the house, when all of a sudden, the door to the garage opened and his wife walked in! He hadn’t heard her car or the door on the garage. It didn’t matter! There he stood, frozen in his best outfit!

She looked at him with a surprised look (to say the least) and said, “So, you’ve finally decided to come out of the closet and wear in front of me, huh?”

“What? I…I…umm…well…” he stammered. His face was a blur of red. He was so embarrassed. He loved my wife and never wanted to hurt her. This urge to dress was stronger than he could handle, though. He’d thrown out his gym suits partly because he’d been afraid something would happen to him and his stash would be found in his absence. He didn’t want his wife to have to go through that. Now here he was standing in front of her dressed in miniskirt, panties and bra.

“Well,” she said with a smirk, “I’ve got to admit you’re kind of cute like that!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” was all he could say.

“Oh don’t give me that. You’re only sorry I caught you. You had to know it was inevitable. I’ve done my best to ignore your little games – now it’s too bad you’ve thrown out all your nice gym suits. I’d love to see how they looked on you.”

“Wha… Huh…”

“Are you kidding me? You thought I didn’t know about you? You’re as clueless as you thought I was! Actually, I’ve been kind of anxious for you to slip up and get caught. Now you won’t have to sneak around.”

“I won’t wear this stuff again. I promise. I’ll throw it all out. We can start all over…”

She interrupted him, “No, you won’t throw it out. I said I think you’re cute dressed like that. Remember when I said I’d walk out on you if I ever caught you in my bra and panties? Well, I just didn’t want you stretching out my underwear! I like the way you look and so from now on, you’ve got my permission to dress like that.”

He was so confused he didn’t know what to say. He was still terrified and worried about her reaction, but as he listened to her he just didn’t know what to think. “Y..You mean you want me to wear this stuff? Really? You don’t mind?”

“Mind? No. It’s who you are inside that counts. Not what you wear on the outside. Really. Now why don’t you get us each a glass of wine and let’s sit down and have some girl talk.”

He was in too much shock to pick up on the idea that she wanted him to get her some wine; let alone the part about ‘girl talk.’ Even though the thought of being able to wear in front of her excited him, something bothered him. “No, I can’t. I’ve got to take this stuff off. I’m so sorry. I can’t do this in front of you,” he stammered.

“No. You’ll get the wine and you’ll sit down with me. Now. I mean it,” she said sternly.

“I’m so embarrassed. This is crazy. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I’ll make it up to you. I’m so sorry. Let me go change and I’ll get your wine. Really. We need to talk.”

“Oh, we’ll talk alright. NOW! Get the wine NOW. Sit down NOW. You are in no position to argue with me unless you want your little tricks to get out to your boss and your friends. I’m NOT mad now, but if you don’t stop being a baby about this, I’ll be plenty mad and you’ll be plenty sorry. I’ve got pictures of all your stuff. Do you want me showing them around?” she said sharply. Then she lightened up and smiled, “Let’s let this be our little secret. Now relax and get the wine.”

As uncomfortable as he was, he got two glasses and poured some Chardonnay – her favorite – and brought it to her in the family room. “There, was that so bad? That skirt is cute. You look sexy in a nice short skirt like that, but we can shop for some other things for you as well. Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to go out of the house dressed – well, except for your panties. We’ll throw away all your silly man undies. Tomorrow is Saturday and we can go shopping together. I could use some new lingerie too. Won’t that be fun?”

He was still in shock. “Uhhh…I don’t know. I’m not sure I can do this. Are…are you sure about this? You really want me to wear panties?”

“All the time. And while you’re home, a bra and either a blouse and skirt or a dress. Yes. That little skirt is cute for some times and we’ll get some other little kilts and other miniskirts. I won’t make you wear heels, but we’ll get you some nice girly flats at least. We’ll work up to it. Are you OK with that?” she asked.

“I’m not sure if I can get used to wearing women’s clothes in front of you. It has always been something ‘naughty’ I’ve done – exciting because it’s taboo. But I’m kind of excited by the idea as well,” he said, sipping on his wine.

She came over and sat next to him. She sipped her wine and put her hand on his knee. It electrified him. She looked into his eyes and he felt her hand slide up his leg – up under his skirt. He shivered as he felt her hand touch his panties. She moved her head to his and they kissed. “Come on, Sweetie, let’s go do something about this lump in your panties,” she said.

After they got up from having the wildest sex in months, she looked at him and said, “Wow! That was great! If I’d known it would be like this I would have put you in a bra and panties on our honeymoon! But, if you’re going to be wearing a skirt, even just around here, you’d better shave those legs.”

He looked at her and said, “Are you sure? I don’t know. Someone is going to notice.” Secretly he was excited. He had wanted to shave all his body hair, but knew it could never happen.

“Oh, absolutely. And under your arms as well – all us girls shave under our arms. Come to think of it, you should just shave it all. Lots of guys do that now anyway. No one will think a thing about it. Come on. Let’s shower together and I’ll help you right now.”

They got half way through shaving and they were having sex in the shower again. He was hornier than he could imagine. Finally, sated sexually and completely shaved, he got out of the shower. Without thinking he went to my drawers and got out a pair of boxers.

“Silly, not those! Where are your panties?” she said. She walked over, took the boxers out of his hand and tossed them into the trash can.

“Oh, yeah,” he said as he went to his closet where his stash of panties sat.

“Oh put on the little pink ones. Those are so cute!” she said.

He slid them on and tingled as he felt the sensation of his silk panties on his shaved body. He reached over and put on his little sports skirt – he was almost exploding with the sensation of the skirt on his shaved legs. He was in heaven.

“Now your bra. Maybe we can get you some breast forms later, but for now I guess those socks will have to do. And I guess your tee shirts will have to do for this evening. Tomorrow we go shopping!” She helped him adjust the bra and stuff the socks so it gave a more realistic impression of breasts as he slid his tee-shirt on.

Chapter Three: Not what he expected…

It felt so strange to be dressed this way in front of his wife, but she seemed to be adjusting well. They walked downstairs together and into the kitchen.

“Well, what’s for dinner, dear?” she asked.

“I don’t know. What did you have planned?” He replied.

“What? You want to dress the role, but not play the role? What’s for dinner? If you’re going to dress up like I dress, then it’s going to become your job to fix dinner. Oh, I’ll do it tonight, but it’s your job from now on.”

“Oh come on. That’s just silly. You can’t really want me to fix dinner do you?” he laughed.

“It’s no laughing matter. You can and you will be fixing dinner from now on or the picture I snapped of you upstairs before we came down and the shots of your other clothes will be broadcast to a lot of people.”

He hadn’t seen her take a picture, but he’d turned for a moment and he was sure she had a good opportunity to take a picture of him in his skirt. Besides, it was a small price to pay to be able to fulfill his fantasy. “OK. If you’ll give me advice and maybe some help.”

“At least to start, sister,” she laughed.

They’d bought a few more panties and bras for him the next day. Over the next few weeks, she picked up some more skirts – mostly informal for around the house, but a few frilly, flouncy ones as well. It took a little getting used to wearing panties every day to work – he had to be careful about dribbling in them because they didn’t absorb like his normal underwear would. He began sitting down to pee and then wiping so he didn’t dribble into his panties.

At first their sex was frequent and wild – like that first night, but then gradually over the next several weeks, things slowed down. The excitement of doing something naughty slacked off as he got used to wearing his bra, panties and skirts in front of her. He’d begun making dinners. At first he thought they were going to take turns – share equally. That was a mistake. She’d taken more and more pictures of him in his various outfits – some in just bra and panties – others in his little nighties – all showing him in poses which would certainly cause him enough embarrassment so he could never face people anywhere any more.

She was usually pleasant with him, but developed more and more demands. He began to rebel. Their sex life was declining and he was beginning to resent her demands more and more. Often she would expect oral sex from him and not allow him any gratification himself. Finally, one night he came home and said, “I’ve had it. I can’t live like this any more. I’m not going to wear these clothes any more and I’m not going to do all your silly chores. I’m going to buy myself some underwear tomorrow and throw away all this women’s clothes. No more of this for me.”

“Oh really, Sweety? You think so? What about the pictures I have of you?” she asked.

“You aren’t going to embarrass yourself by showing those around. You know as well as I do that they would cause you as much trouble as they would me.” He was showing some false bravado, but he thought he was carrying it off pretty well.

“Well, we’ll see. If you don’t want to change into your bra and skirt today, just leave on your clothes from work. We can talk in the morning.”

He couldn’t believe she’d accepted this so easily. She remained cool, but everything seemed OK as they went to bed. She even allowed him to wear a tee shirt instead of a nightie, but since he had no other underwear he wore his panties. He fell into an uneasy sleep, worried a little about how they would work out the transition in their relationship. Little did he know what awaited him at the other end of his sleep.

Chapter Four: A Change

As he began a slow rise from what he thought had been just a long night’s sleep, he felt his head pound. He went to reach for his head, but he couldn’t move his hand. He tried to move his other hand, but for some reason it didn’t seem to work either. He tried to roll over, but that didn’t work. He felt awful. He felt a heaviness that he couldn’t seem to shed. As his eyes opened slowly, the shadows in the room told him it was late afternoon – not morning. His consciousness rose and he began to sense that his hands couldn’t move because they were bound. He felt a series of straps on his body and he surmised that this was why he couldn’t roll over. He felt so awful he was more concerned about how he felt than why he felt this way.

He lay there, feeling weak and queasy with his head pounding, unable to move. Even his legs were restrained somehow. His head was about all he could move and that hurt too much to try to move. Finally she came in, “Oooh, looks like you’re finally awake. I guess maybe I dosed you a little high last night. Oh well. Sorry.”

“Let me up. My head is killing me. I need some Tylenol and I need to go to the bathroom.” He said this all casually as if being bound in his bed was just a natural occurrence and now it was time for him to be let up.

“No, no, miss prissy pants. Not so fast. First you wanted to be a girl. You wanted to wear your little school girl gym suits, then cute little panties and bras and then blouses and skirts. You wanted to be a girl. You didn’t want to be my husband, but more like a lesbian lover. Well that got old, didn’t it? I played your game, but you got tired of it. A good thing wasn’t good enough – or was it me that wasn’t good enough? Do you have any idea how much it hurt me to watch you dress up like that? How much it demeaned me? And now you’re tired of it? YOU’RE tired of it? Well, how do you think I feel?

I’d throw you out on your ear, but I want payback! You hear me? This is all your fault you shit and now you are going to pay!”

She continued to rant and even in his pain and shock at her reaction he realized how badly he had to pee. Finally he broke in and said, “Honey, please let me up. I’ve got to pee really badly. Let me up.”

His words stopped her short for a moment. “Don’t you dare wet in my bed! Don’t you dare! You’d better hold it. I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare let out one drop!”

“No…Let me up...quick,” he pleaded as he felt just a drip in his panties. He tightened and stopped the flow knowing he couldn’t hold out too much longer. Soon she dashed back in the room waving what looked like a huge white sheet of plastic. She tossed it on the bed and tackled his panties ripping them down his legs. She grabbed the plastic thing and pushed up his rear to slide it under him. It felt papery not like plastic. Soon, she reached down and he sensed his midsection being wrapped. He heard rips, then pressure on his front. Whatever this thing was, it was being attached to him.

She stood up and smiled, saying, “There, go ahead and pee. Your diaper will soak it all up.”

“What? Let me up! I have to pee. I’ve got to go to the bathroom!”

She smiled, “Silly, you’ve got a diaper on. You don’t need a bathroom. Bathrooms are for big boys. Bathrooms are for well behaved big boys. You aren’t either. You don’t act like a big boy and you certainly aren’t very well behaved.”

“Please. Get real. Let me up. Go ahead. Show your damn pictures. I don’t care. Let me up. I’m out of here – forever.”

“Oh silly little baby. You are not out of here at all. As a matter of fact, you’re here forever. No, I don’t need the pictures. You are right. I realized they’d humiliate me as much as they would you. So I went online and found some rather unconventional counseling. I realized how much you’ve used me all this time and I’ve decided to stop that cycle. You’ve brought this on yourself. Now you are going to be my little baby and serve me.”

As he looked up into her face and realized just how serious she was, his bladder gave way and he filled the diaper with pee. He felt the warm, wet flow of pee soak into the diaper and felt humiliation wash over him as well. Whether she heard it or saw the effects of the flow, she smiled. “There, that’s the way. Get used to it. You didn’t want big boy panties, so you wore girl’s panties. Then you changed your mind. I guess diapers are the only thing left, huh? I hope you like them. I’m going to see to it that that’s all you ever wear again for the rest of your life.

You’ve acted like a jerk and now I’m going to treat you that way. I could throw you out on your ear, but that would be too good for you. I’m going to keep you. I’m going to dominate you. I will be your mistress and you will be my slave.”

He looked at her, stunned both by her words and by the soggy diaper in which he lay. “You can’t do that. You can’t get away with it. You’re not strong enough to confine me for a day, let alone forever. Who do you think you’re kidding?” …false bravado again.

This time it didn’t have any impression on her.

“Oh, with the drugs I’ve ordered and the equipment I’ve ordered and kept in storage for this moment, you’ll see. And I want you to realize, you’ve brought this on yourself. I’m going to give you something to drink now. Partly because you’re going to become a big baby and partly because you couldn’t drink out of a glass where you are, I’m giving it to you in a baby bottle. Get used to it.”

He heard her go to the kitchen and she returned with an oversized bottle with an oversized nipple on the top. He resisted at first, but as she held his nose, he opened my mouth out of reflex and the nipple was firmly placed in his mouth. He realized he was very thirsty and out of desperation finally got the hang out of sucking on the nipple to fill his mouth. The liquid tasted a little like a sports drink and he sucked it down quickly. As he finished he began to regret his enthusiasm as the room darkened and went black.

Chapter Five: A Rude Awakening

When he awoke again, he could again feel his arms and legs bound, but as he wiggled in his bonds, he heard the crinkle of plastic beneath him. As he opened his eyes, he saw bright vertical bars to either side – and bars above him as well. It was as if he was locked down in an oversized baby crib, but with bars on the top as well. His legs were spread wide and he could feel an unfamiliar bulk even unlike the disposable diaper she’d put on him before.

Looking around the room, he realized he was in what had been the guest room of their house. As he realized how badly he needed to pee, the door opened and she came into the room, smiling at him. “This is what is going to happen to you, little baby. You’ve brought it on yourself. You deserve to be treated like a little baby, because you’ve acted like a spoiled little baby. You loved your gym suits. You loved your panties and bras and dressing up like a little school girl. But when you found out that I’d known, you decided you’d changed your mind. I tried to help you live your fantasy, but that wasn’t good enough for you either. You’re just a spoiled little baby. You can’t make up your mind what you want, so I’m going to do all that for you.

You are now just a little baby. I’m going to keep you in diapers and little plastic panties and little baby outfits. Here you are in your brand new cribby. It has a nice, protective plastic sheet under your baby sheet so if you leak, you won’t ruin the mattress. I’ve put you in your new cloth diapers; they will be much more economical. You have many, many pairs of plastic panties to keep all your peepee in and your baby outfits dry. I’ll show you how it works!”

She reached through the bars and put a little pressure on his belly – he couldn’t help it and pee began pouring out of him into his cloth diapers. He felt the hot pee as it shot out and was absorbed by his diapers. He looked away from her and turned red.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, little baby! That’s what babies do! Don’t be ashamed. You can’t help it. You can’t help it, because you’re just a stupid, worthless, little shit! I’d kick you out and divorce you, but I’ve got a better idea. You are going to be my pissy little diaper baby slave. I’m going to be your mistress – not your wife – not your mommy – your mistress. You’ll treat me with total respect and subjugation. You are quitting your job in just a few moments and from then on, you’ll never leave this house unless I decide you will. If you think otherwise, you’re mistaken. I’ve got a ready supply of drugs to keep you weak and docile. I’ve already arranged for extra security throughout the house so escape will never be possible.”

He looked up and started to talk, “You can’t do this…” She reached in and slapped him hard across the mouth. “Shut up,” she yelled. “You will not talk to your mistress like that.” When he tried to speak again, she slapped him again, only harder. As he opened his mouth to speak again, he found a huge bulb plopped into his open mouth. Attached straps went around his head and held it in. With his hands bound, he had no hope of taking it out. He could only mumble into it now – unable to speak.

Chapter Six: She Can Do This!

He found out the hard way that what she had said was true. As he lay there, she brought in a phone from the other room. She dialed his boss, identified herself and explained that he had had a mental breakdown and was being institutionalized. His boss said he wasn’t surprised; he’d seemed to act strange and aloof for months now. He knew something was different and had tried to talk with him, but he’d been cool about it. What he didn’t know was that the aloofness revolved around being self-conscious about his new underwear.

She said he was not going to be able to return to his job and that his last paycheck should be made out to her and sent in the mail. Anything of a personal nature at his office could be thrown out. No one should bother inquiring about him or try to visit as this would not be allowed by his doctor. He could only lie there and wet his diaper as he mumbled into the gag while she talked. His boss expressed his sympathy, but he hadn’t had any real friends at work anyway, so he realized no one there would push the issue. He had no close family and he began to realize that his wife could easily sell this story to the few close friends he had.

He also found out that the rest of her threats were more than just words, as well. There was an opening in the front of this gag where she would attach a hose running from bags of soupy baby formula, juice or water. Whatever she decided to give him forced its way into his mouth. He could resist only so long before having to swallow. The contents of the bags kept him nourished, but drugged as well.

He didn’t know and slowly didn’t care that he was consuming drugs to leave him weak and unresisting. Diuretics helped him pee, bulk in the formula helped him with his first diaper poops…even in spite of his drugged state, he was horribly embarrassed as he felt the warm goo slip into his diapers and spread out around his bottom. He barely heard the tapes she played to him as he slept – the tapes which told him over and over what a bad little baby he was; how he’d brought this on himself; how he was nothing but a big worthless baby.

Chapter Seven: Begging for Diapers!

At first, when it was time to clean up her big baby, she’d drug him to unconsciousness, clean him and change him. Gradually the doses of drugs left him weak enough so she’d keep him bound, but open the crib cage to change him.

For several days, she dressed him in a pair of his girl panties, then diapered him over the top of his panties. When he inevitably wet, she would force him to tell her that he had wet his panties. “Mistress. Mistress. I’m so embarrassed,” he’d say.

“Whatever do you mean little baby? What happened?”

“I had an accident. I peed my pretty girl panties.”

“You what?” she’d ask for emphasis.

“I wet my panties. I need a change. My girl panties are wet,” he would say.

“What? Did you pee your panties again? I thought you were a big girl; not a baby. Now Mistress has to change you again! Are you a big girl or just a pissy little diaper baby?”

If he failed to follow the prescribed script, she’d pretend to discover that he’d wet and then berate him to tears. “You pissy little baby! Have you wet again? I don’t understand your lack of control, little girl. What has gotten into you? You are going to ruin your little panties!” She would strip him, turn him over in his crib and spank him until he apologized for wetting his panties.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” she’d say. Then she’d put him in another pair of silky panties and cover it with a diaper and plastic panties. “If you can stay dry, now, I’ll take away the diaper and you can wear your big girl panties. But if you wet, you’re going to be in big trouble. Can you stay dry, little baby?”

“Yes, Mistress, I’ll try to stay dry. I’ll try not to wet my panties again,” he would say. Of course, he knew it was hopeless and this only made things worse for him. Finally he began begging her not to put the girl panties on him.

“Please, Mistress. I don’t want the girl panties. I just wet them every time. I don’t deserve big girl panties. Please Mistress, let me just wear my diaper and plastic panties. I don’t deserve big girl panties. I’m just a pissy little baby. I need my diaper.” Of course, this was all a script for him, but as he repeated it with each diaper change, he began to believe it more and more. This lasted several days until he finally ‘convinced’ her that he was just a diaper baby and couldn’t be trusted without a diaper.

She would treat him tenderly most of the time, but also demean him in every way possible as she changed his wet, messy diapers. “What a bad baby you are. You are worthless to me. All you do is lie there and pee and poop into your diapers. I’ve got to feed you. I’ve got to change you. I’ve got to wash your dirty smelling diapers and I’ve got to take care of the whole house in addition to continuing my life. Well, I’ve taken these two weeks off from work to get you started, but its time for you to start pulling your own baby weight!”

Chapter Eight: New Tasks

Over the next few days, she weakened him with drugs just enough so she trusted to let him up from his crib to learn how to wash, dry and put away his own diapers. He’d rinse out his plastic panties and hang them on the shower rod in the upstairs bathroom – where he was allowed to shower once a day to clean himself up, shave himself and ready himself for his diapers. At first, he was only allowed to do this under her direct supervision and he was locked in his crib at all other times – most days bound also by his wrists and legs. Each night while he slept, tapes continued to bombard his psyche with messages meant to program him to forget his past and accept that he had caused his present situation – he deserved every punishment he got – he deserved to be in diapers and have to use them – he didn’t really deserve the good grace of his mistress, but he was indeed lucky to be her slave. He continued to receive drugs, formula and drink through his gag which was almost always in place.

Gradually security in the house was tightened. No one could get in or out of the house without keys to redundant locks and silent alarm systems – and ‘mistress’ as he came to think of her – was the only one with the keys. She had gotten him a full supply of cloth diapers, plastic panties and other baby outfits. Among them were locking diaper pins, locking plastic pants and baby rompers which could be locked as well. She would rig little thin chains around his waist and over the rompers, then lock them so it was totally impossible for him to even contemplate removing his own diapers. The redundancy of the security was successful in its intent – to make him miserably hopeless of any relief from the treatment she chose for him.

As she felt him slip into his role as diaper slave more and more, he was ‘allowed’ more and more responsibility. This meant simply that he was trusted out of his crib cage during the day to dust, vacuum, do dishes, prepare her meals (his were always fed through the feeding gag while he was locked in his crib cage), and other demeaning jobs around the house. One of her favorite chores for him was to rinse out ‘her’ favorite panties by hand – many of these were the very ones he’d bought for himself before he got caught. He’d rinse them out – loving the touch and feel of them – and he would remember vaguely that they had been his at one time, but now hers.

Chapter Nine: Bad Little Diaper Boy - Forever

At night he was always put into a disposable diaper, with holes punched in the plastic cover to drain out into the cloth place over the top. He was to poop during the night or in the early morning so he could shower and be clean during the day. He was NOT to poop in the cloth diapers. If he did, he’d have to wait until she cleaned him up. She didn’t like having to clean a poopy cloth diaper when she came home for lunch – she barely had time to eat the lunch he’d prepare for her and then change his wet diapers. If he did poop, he’d often be left til evening which caused bad diaper rash. Sometimes she’d change him, then give him enemas, suppositories and those nasty drugs used to totally clean out your bowels before procedures. He’d be made to endure extra long ‘exercise periods’ – downstairs on the treadmill – extra time of walking in very wet or maybe poopy diapers. Sometimes he’d be hogtied in a messy diaper and locked in his crib cage. She had many, many punishments for him, never seeming to fail in coming up with yet another new punishment.

Eventually, he was trained to change his own baby clothes and diapers, but of course, she had to be present in order to unlock the several sets of redundant locks keeping him bound securely in his diapers, panties and baby clothes. All this added to his humiliation and embarrassment, but he knew it was necessary. After all, he knew, he couldn’t be trusted.

The mental training of her humiliation of him and of the tapes which continued to plant subliminal messages was effective and complete. He was a tortured soul. He hated his diapers and plastic panties, but knew he deserved them and now needed them. Over the months he’d gradually given over control of his peeing and pooping and came to accept that he’d never regain that control – nor need he worry about it. He was a worthless, diaper slave and he was lucky to have a mistress who would have him. It was demeaning to have to serve her, but he had to be the luckiest person alive to have a mistress who understood him so well; allowed the pathetic little baby that he was to serve her.

He’d look out the windows of the house and remember that at some point in his past he’d been out there, but knew he’d never be allowed out again; he deserved it. He’d rinse her panties, clean her house and do her other chores. He’d remember vaguely another past that he didn’t ever deserve; he was nothing but a dirty little baby slave and this is what he deserved. He wasn’t happy, but he accepted his fate.

The End