4th kasarberang non-contest A Captive of my Heart's Desire

[justforfun]

This story was written for @kasarberang's 4th story non-con-test.

I do have to say that this is fantasy.  It was written specifically to the terms of the contest, and contains actions, themes, and ideas that I in no way support, condone, or suggest in real life.

Read at your own risk.

 

"In the embrace of stillness,
I find myself tethered to this sacred ground, 
a captive of my own heart's desire. 

Here I remain, suspended in time, 
waiting for the gentle touch of fate 
to guide my true love to me. 

Until she arrives, 
illuminating the shadows of my soul 
and revealing the depths that lie within, 

I cannot take flight. 

It is her presence alone that can set me free, 
transforming my quiet longing into a vibrant reality; 
I belong to her, and she shall claim me as her own,

entwining our destinies as one."

 

Oh. Shit.

 

The garage door was opening.

 

I pulled at my wrist, but I knew the ice lock had at least another hour. 

 

Shit shit shit.

 

I kept pulling, trying to think of a way to escape the bondage that I had put myself in, but I had been pretty thorough.  The cuffs were locked to the straps, and I couldn’t release the cuff itself with my hand in it.  The cuffs on my wrists and ankles held fast, and until that ice lock melted I couldn’t release the cuffs on my wrists.  I heard the door downstairs open, and close.

 

I heard her call from downstairs.  “Honey, are you there?”

 

Maybe she had just forgotten something, and if I was quiet she’d assume I was out exercising or something, grab what she needed, and then leave.  Maybe.

 

I tried to use my restrained hand to pull some of the top sheet, which was off to the side, over me.  Maybe I could at least cover the diaper I was wearing.  I could barely reach the sheet, though, and efforts to pull it were fruitless.  I was still just laying there, my choice of the last Princess Pink diaper from the sample pack I had coming back to haunt me in a big way.  I tried to sit up and could see the suitcase open on the other side of the room, the items I had hidden away mockingly highlighted in a beam of sun through a window.

 

“Honey?”  I could hear her coming up the stairs.  “My sister is here!  Are you in the shower?”

 

Her sister was here?  My mind froze.  The worst case had gone from embarrassment in front of my wife to far, far worse.  Her sister didn’t like me.  No, it was way beyond, “didn’t like”.  Her sister despised me.  Her sister thought that my wife could have done much, much better than me, and did everything she could to point out all my weaknesses, faults, and misdeeds as loudly and often as she could to anyone who would listen, seemingly ignoring the fact that my wife and I have been married for five years and are very happy together.  

 

She was, frankly, a bitch, and her consistent criticism of me had definitely driven a wedge between the siblings.  So why was she here now?  If her sister came in and saw me like this, it was game over.  I needed to try to minimize the damage.  And minimizing the damage meant that only my wife saw me like this.  

 

“Ah, Jenn?  Could you come into the bedroom?  Just you?”

 

“You’re in the bedroom, Greg?”

 

“Yeah.  Please come in.  Just you.”

 

The door opened.

[justforfun]

Yet when she arrives, her eyes widen with shock, 
for my true form is unveiled—a visage both wondrous and strange. 

Doubt clouds her gaze, her heart caught in a tempest of uncertainty. 
Can this be love, she wonders, 
or merely an illusion spun from the threads of destiny? 

She stands at the precipice of decision, 
her soul wavering between fear 
and the promise of a love profound and eternal. 

In this moment of revelation, 
we are both laid bare, 
our fates hanging in the balance, 

waiting for the courage 
to embrace the unknown 

and find solace in each other's arms."

 

“WHAT.”

 

“THE.”

 

“FUCK.”

 

My wife stood at the door, a look of horror and confusion spreading across her face.

 

“Are you OK up there?”  A voice I recognized came up the stairs from the kitchen.  “Jenn?”

 

I looked at her and whispered.  “Please come in and close the door.  Please.  Quickly.  Before she comes up.”

 

She moved slowly, coming into the room and closing the door.  As the door clicked shut, I thought that maybe I could still get past this with just some embarrassment.  Continuing to move slowly, she sat down on the chair across from the bed.  

 

“Can, you, um, help me, please?  The uh, keys are on the bureau.  If you can help me I can clean this up.”  I spoke quietly while attempting to sound confident as if it wasn’t a big deal.

 

She just sat there. Staring at me.  Thinking.

 

“Please, Jenn?  The keys?”

 

She paused.  She looked at the keys.  She looked at me.  “You said that you didn’t do this anymore.  You said that when we were married you put it behind you.”  She paused.  “You lied to me.”

 

I was silent.  I didn’t know what to say.  I pulled on the ice lock again, hoping it might release early.  It didn’t.

 

“You said that you would be looking for a new job.”  She looked heartbroken.  “You lied to me.”

 

“You said that you loved me”  she continued, looking at me sadly, a tear forming.  “I don’t know if you lied to me.”

 

I pulled on the arm held by the ice lock.  Jenn looked at it, her shoulders low.  “Is that how you get free? What is it.”

 

I nodded slowly.  “Yes.  It’s an ice lock.”

 

“It melts and then you can get out? So you expected to have all this hidden before I got home this evening.”  She looked at me.  I nodded.  “How much time before you can get loose?”

 

“I’m not sure.  An hour or so.  But you can unlock everything using the keys over there.”

 

She rose and walked over to the keys.  She saw the suitcase and walked over there.  She started rummaging through it, moving some of the diapers, clothing, and other things around to see what was there.  She paused, and a half smile crossed her face.  She pulled another leather strap out of the suitcase, along with a bag of locks.  Fiddling with the locks and keys, she opened the locks.

 

“I think I need time to think about what to do here.”  She placed the strap on the bed and looked at how I was fastened.  Taking a few locks, she locked the cuffs, and then locked the strap to the bed and my wrist cuff, ensuring that even when the ice lock melted I wasn’t going anywhere.

 

“Um, honey?  Could you let me go so we can talk?”  She smiled and kissed my forehead.

 

“No.  Abby and I are going to have lunch like we planned.  You can wait here.”  She squeezed my diaper, which was, I realized, a little wet.  She looked at me.  “Tell me why I shouldn’t just divorce you.”

 

Holy crap, what.  “Because… I really do love you, and we promised to be together forever.  And I’m sorry I 

screwed up, but I want to talk to you about it.  I love you.”

 

She continued to look at me for a moment, then turned to the door.  I was half expecting to see Abby with her ear to the door as Jen opened it, went through it, and closed it without another word.  Soon the garage door opened, closed, and I was alone again.

 

I wish I could say that I spent the next three hours escaping from the restraints and coming up with a well-reasoned set of discussion points that would convince my wife that I may have made a mistake, but I was a wonderful husband worthy of her love and trust.

 

Hah.

 

I thrashed briefly in my restraints but I knew they weren’t going to break.  I lay there, thinking about whose fault this was.  I blamed her for coming home early.  I blamed her sister for showing up unannounced.  I blamed the porn on the internet for getting me interested in self-bondage.  And finally, I blamed myself.  

 

And then I cried for a long time.  And then I slept.

---

 

“He’s sleeping like a baby.”  Abby’s voice had a sneer to it, and as I opened my eyes I saw her holding her phone, obviously taking a picture. 

 

I struggled in the restraints, but as before I wasn’t going anywhere.  “Hey, delete that!”

 

Abby just laughed and took another.  Sitting down on the side of the bed next to me, she squeezed the diaper.  “Well, Jen was right.  You really are wearing a pink diaper.  And it’s wet.”  She looked me in the eyes.  “Hope you like it.”

 

“Hey, don’t you touch me!  Where’s Jen?”  I struggled away from her touch.  Her smile was that of a cat about to educate a mouse in the ways of being food.

 

“Jen… your wife… for now… is really, really upset.  She sees this as a major breach of trust.  I see this as an… opportunity… to help you change your relationship with her.”  She smiled the cat smile.  “In a positive way, of course.  I think it will be good for you both.”

 

I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.  “What do you mean?”  

 

She leaned over and tousled my hair.  “Oh, don’t worry.  There are really no choices you need to make here so make yourself comfortable.  I’m going to be the bad guy here because you and Jen will need to love each other.”

 

“So, here’s the deal.  You told her you loved her and wanted to be with her forever.  She wants to love you but doesn’t trust you.  She feels you don’t need her for anything, be it money, comfort, or love.”  She put her hand on my now sodden diaper.  “Looks like you look elsewhere for love, eh?”  As she massaged the diaper, my back arched as I leaned into her hand.  

 

She stopped massaging me suddenly.  “I bet you’re as puny in that diaper as your 4-foot-tall body would suggest.  I bet Jen barely notices when you’re in, eh?  Does she have to help you?”

 

“I’m 5 feet tall.”  Yeah, I’m short.  I know.  I’ve always been short.  Abby picks on me all the time, never letting me live down that I’m shorter than her fifth-grade nephew.  And Jen had never complained about me.  I mean, I’m proportional I think.  It’s not like I’ve measured it.

 

“That’s not saying much.  How a six-foot girl ended up with a useless pipsqueak like you…”

“She’s not six feet.  She’s five-ten.”

 

Abby gave me a wry glance.  “Well, anyway, here’s what I convinced her to do.  I’m going to make you dependent on her.  She won’t have to trust you because you’re going to need her for her comfort, for her love, and even to change your diaper.  Won’t that be nice?”  

 

I looked at her, horrified.  I tried to think of what to say.  She was crazy.

 

There was a loud bang downstairs.  Abby looked at me.  “I think my sister needs a caregiver right now.  She had several margaritas…” She got up and went downstairs.  

 

This time I pulled on the restraints with all my strength and did my best to try to get free.  The cuffs and straps, though, didn’t yield, and in the end, I was still right where Abby left me.

 

It was a smiling Abby and red-eyed Jen who showed up a little later.  Jen was clearly still feeling the margaritas.  Abby helped her sit on the chair next to me and then sat beside

her.  

 

“Ok, let’s get the stuff ordered.  I’ll pay for it.  Let’s see when we can get everything.”  She started paging through her phone.

 

“Iodine, swabs, sterile field, gloves… oh yeah, need that… look at this, Abby, this one connects to HDMI… he can watch it himself!  Oh yeah, need those…”  After several minutes she finally seemed like she had everything.

 

“Alright, let’s see about delivery time.”  She looked up at me.  “Damn, Amazon is fucking amazing.  We can have most of this stuff here by 10 pm.  Let me see what we’re missing.”  Jen just put her head on Abby’s shoulder and watched.  I decided that staying quiet was probably the best thing for me, so I just watched nervously.

 

A few minutes later and, with a big smile, she said, “Buy!”.  She looked up at me.  “I had no idea that this stuff was available online.  Usually, it takes three levels of signatures, prescriptions, doctor’s sign-offs, and written care plans to get this stuff, but boom, here you just put a credit card in, select what you want, and wait until it shows up at your front door.”  She had a look of glee.  “Our nurses really need to try this!”

 

I nervously looked at her.  “So… can you tell me what’s happening?  And my shoulders hurt.”  I had been laying in that position since 9 am, and I was thirsty and hungry, and my diaper was about to leak, but I figured I’d address the most important needs first.

 

“That’s a good point, Jenn.  When we keep patients in restraints, we need to keep moving them to avoid bed sores and other issues.  Let’s reposition him.”  She paused.  “But I think he needs a diaper change first, and it’s probably easier if we do it with his hands there.  C’mon sis, this is all you.  Residents don’t change diapers.  That’s for nurses.  And moms, of course.”  She gave her sister a hand up from the chair.

 

I watched the sisters walk to the suitcase and pull out another diaper.  I didn’t have a huge selection, but what I did have were thick and effective.  Abby told Jen something, who went to the bathroom, while Abby turned around holding a thick pink diaper.  

 

“Glad you like pink.  It suits you.  Probably a good thing we can’t do anything about that tonight, but, you know maybe in the future…”  She laughed as I cringed.  

 

Abby returned, carrying a washcloth.  Abby guided Jen in opening the new diaper, putting it under me, and releasing the tapes.  

 

“Oh, it IS just as small as I thought it would be!”  As the cold air hit my groin I shrank, not helping any claim of “proportional” that I might seek to argue.  

 

Again, I stayed silent as Abby guided Jen in washing me down, the cold washcloth doing an efficient job of wiping me down in Jen’s hand.  Soon the wet princess diaper was slid out from under me, and the dry pink diaper was pulled up between my legs.  

 

“I hated changing diapers,” Abby said, as Abby showed Jenn how to position the tabs and make sure that the leak guards were well seated.  “We had to learn, of course, in my first rotation in geriatrics, but I almost always managed to get someone else to do it.  Diapering YOU, though,” she said, patting the front of the pink diaper, “could ALMOST get me to think it might be fun!  You know, certain patients were so annoying that the nurses would put them in diapers just because they deserved it.  Just like you, Greg!”

 

Abby went to the suitcase and dug around, looking at the contents.  Soon, she returned with a long leather strap.

 

“I think this will work.  Let’s put this at his waist level, and then we can attach his wrists to it.”  Soon, exactly that happened, and I found first one arm, and then the other, being moved from being outstretched over my head to my waist.  With the two of them holding me, there was no chance to fight it, and soon I was secured again.  

 

With no choice but to lay there, Jen and Abby left, turning off the light and closing the door.  Having slept a bunch during the day, and rather fearful of what was to come, I listened in trepidation to voices downstairs, the doorbell ring, someone left in the car and returned sometime later… There was a lot of activity.  The only activity I was participating in was making my diaper wetter.

 

It was dark outside when the door opened again and Jenn and Abby entered carrying several boxes and bags.  Taking two bandages, Abby fashioned a blindfold, and I listened to them prepare in darkness.  

 

I felt fingers touch my mouth and I accepted two pills being popped in.  Not sure if the fingers were Abby’s or Jenn’s fingers, I didn’t bite them.  “Have some water,” said Abby.  I should have bitten them, but I accepted the cup at my lips and quenched my thirst.  

 

The preparations continued in mostly silence, and soon I felt floaty.  Detached.  I couldn’t follow the voices or the movement.  Everything just felt… nice.  I relaxed.  It didn’t seem to matter that they were strapping my feet down.  I giggled as I felt a few little pricks on my feet, and then some more… something happened.  I don’t know.  It felt nice.  It didn’t matter.

 

I was still giggling as my diaper was opened.  I tried to make a joke about paying for it as they handled my penis, but there was a cold, and then pricks, and then a numb, and then a… I don’t know.  A funny feeling.  Like they were ticking my tummy from the inside.  I giggled.  They were saying things, but for all I knew they were harvesting my organs.  I was given another pill, and then another glass of water. 

 

And then something happened to my hands. 

 

It was funny.

 

-

This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.

 

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Please do not support them in any way, and pass the word.

 

[justforfun]

 

With trembling hands, 
she reaches out, her heart buoyed
by the whispers of friends 
and the wisdom of those who have walked this path before. 

They speak of love's true nature
—acceptance, empathy, and the strength 
to see beyond the surface. 

Encouraged by their faith 
and guided by a newfound resolve, 
she steps forward, 
her fears dissolving into the ether. 

 

Morning dawned.  I woke.  I went to sit up and… couldn’t.  I was still in the restraints… sort of.  There were what looked like casts on my hands.  The casts had D-rings that were clipped to the strap that went over my waist.  I had on a white diaper.  I had been changed, but the yellowing on the front of this one… wait, I had wet in my sleep?  Looking further down, there were bandages on my feet.  What the hell?

 

“Jenn?”  I called out.  No answer.  “Jenn?”  A little louder.  A creak of the guest bed, and some feet walking down the hall.  Jenn entered.  She was wearing a negligee, and I could see her large breasts and white underwear clearly through the sheer white fabric.  

 

I started to get excited, which was all the more pronounced when she sat next to me and squeezed my diaper.  “Did you just wet?” she asked me, prodding the yellow area.

 

“Uh, no… it was wet when I woke.”

 

Her smile expanded.  “Well, I guess it’s working then.”

 

“What’s working?” I asked with trepidation in my voice.

 

Abby’s head appeared in the door.  Her pajamas were less revealing but still didn’t leave much to the imagination.  I had never seen her like this before.

 

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell him.  Congratulations, you’re now dependent on Jenn.  She’ll need to clothe you, and feed you, and change your diapers.”

 

“What?  What do you mean she has to do that?  Just let me up already!  This has gone far enough!”  I started to yell, trying to sit up while jerking against the restraints, but Jenn put her hand on my chest and gently pushed me back down.

 

“Relax Greg.  Listen.”  Jenn’s voice was calming, and loving.  “Look, I’ve known you were doing this for a while.  I know about that suitcase, and I know about the other diapers in the attic.  I am… very hurt… that you wouldn’t share that with me.  And when I came home and saw you there, I got angry.  I thought about divorce.”  She paused, thoughtful.

 

“It was Abby that convinced me that we should stay together.  I think you truly do love me, and I know I love you, so it would break my heart to separate.  But, Abby convinced me that we needed to make a change.  A big change.”

 

Abby took over.  “So, last night we made a few changes.” Her cat-playing-with-the-mouse smile was back.  “First, and easiest to undo, is your hands.  I wanted to amputate, but your wife convinced me that we should just put them in casts for a few weeks.  So, no use of your hands.”

 

“Second,” she continued, moving down to my feet and examining the bandages, I inserted several titanium bearings into your foot.  I got the idea from a patient that came in… someone had shot him with a BB gun years ago, and it had migrated so it was right under his heel.  Poor guy couldn’t walk for all the pain from the single BB.  So, I inserted a few into your feet.  Once the incisions heal in a few days you’ll probably be able to stand for a short time, but I think a lot of crawling and strollers are in your future!”

 

“And last, of course… this is permanent.”

  

“WHAT?”  I shouted.  “What did you do to me?!?!”

 

“Well, my current rotation is a surgery rotation with a urological focus.  Mostly I’m trying to dig out cancers and not make the patient incontinent.  It’s a hell of a lot easier when all you want to do is make them incontinent!  A snip snip here, a snip snip there, and suddenly the muscles that make you potty trained… well… your diaper is wet.  You should get used to that.”  She smirked.

 

“You’re a…” I wanted to say ‘monster’ but that didn’t sound right.  “You’re insane.  You did surgery on me?  Without my permission?  Without even telling me??”  I was aghast.

 

“Well, I do take my Hippocratic oath very seriously, and, honestly, I’m a very good doctor.  My attending tells me he would rather have me do some of the tricky stuff because I have better hands than he does.”  Her self-satisfied air seemed out of place as I contemplated what she had done to me.

 

“But while I do my best as a Doctor, this is my sister.  And you, Greg, were not fit for her.  You’re not good enough for her.  You have no job, you’re a lousy cook, and you don’t satisfy her in bed, but for some reason she still loves you.  So I did this for her.  Hate me for it, I don’t care because it’s not like you liked me before, but you now need her, and you have no choice.”

 

As I tried to struggle again and sputter a retort, Abby left the room.  Jenn looked at me, a kind and caring look for the first time since this had started a day ago.  She leaned over and kissed me on the lips.  

 

“I do love you, Greg.  This is what I want, and I’ll always be here for you.”  She sat up with a smile.  “And one more thing.  Sit up.”

 

One more thing?   But I sat up and she hopped up on the bed.  She gently pulled me back, and I found my head lying on her lap.  Abby returned.  She was holding, I was dismayed to see, a large baby bottle, which she handed to Jenn.  “You haven’t eaten for a long time,” she said, “so have this shake.”  She saw my look.  “Don’t worry, it’s Ensure, not formula.  This time.”  

 

She ducked back out again, and Jenn cradled my head to her chest and brought the nipple to my lips.  Honestly, I was starving.  I took the nipple into my mouth and waited.

 

“Nuphingsumingoup,” I said around the nipple, as I waited.

 

“You have to suck on it.  Pretend you’re playing with my nipples.”

 

Ah.  I did like sucking on Jenn’s nipples, and I tried again, giving a suck.  A little came out.  I tried again.

 

“Try with your tongue, baby.”

 

I tried rolling my tongue around the nipple and didn’t get anything even when I sucked.  Then I ran my tongue along the nipple and suddenly got a squirt.  I did it again and got another squirt.  After a minute or so I figured out the motion with my tongue, almost like a wave, I thought and managed to get a good supply of the liquid into my mouth.  It took a lot of effort, but as hungry as I was I went at it with gusto.  Soon I realized I was sucking air.  

 

“Was that good?”

 

“Um.  It was OK.  Tasted like a vanilla milkshake.  I’m still hungry though.”

 

Jenn smiled down at me.  She pulled open the negligee and suddenly her breast… her nipple… was right there.  “While I ask Abby to bring another, why don’t you practice a little more?”

 

Well, that wasn’t so bad.  Soon I was making the same tongue motion on her nipple, and I could feel her getting flushed.  I heard a ding, and she adjusted, moving me to her other breast, where I went back to work.  Her smell, her touch, her hand on my head… after the last day I lost myself in her smell and softness.  Everything felt like it would be ok. 

 

There was another ding, and I felt her breast being carefully extracted from my mouth as another bottle nipple was inserted, and my tongue tasted the vanilla milkshake again.  After a few minutes, I got air again.

--

 

“Kristin said yes!” I heard Abby telling Jenn as they stood outside the master bedroom where I was still locked in the restraints on the bed.

 

“That’s great.  When can she come over?”

 

“She and Danny can both come this evening.  They’ll come for a drink after dinner and we can talk about plans.”

 

“Uh, Jenn?  What plans is Abby talking about?”  I had a bad feeling about this.  “And who are Kristin and Danny?”

 

Jenn and Abby stepped around the corner.  “Oh, you’re awake.  Good.  We need to change your bandages… and you…” Abby said as she gathered some supplies.

 

“What’s going on?” I asked again.

 

“Kristin is a friend of mine that I met in college.  Her boyfriend Dan… Danny… happens to be an Adult Baby.  I always thought that he was… well, she’s a good friend, and his input will be useful.”

 

“But I don’t want anyone to see me like this!  What the hell!”

 

Abby was removing the bandages on my foot, looking carefully at the incisions, and came away happy.  “Don’t worry, you’ll stay up here, and they won’t come up.  As long as you’re quiet, we’re going to imply that this is a surprise for you.”

 

“What’s a surprise for me.”

 

She finished replacing the second bandage.  “It’s a surprise.  Ok, Jenn, the diaper is all yours.”

 

Jenn appeared with another diaper.  This one looked thicker, and I didn’t think I had any other plain white diapers.  As Jenn went through the machinations of cleaning and replacing the wet diaper with a dry one, Abby returned and without any warning stuck a gloved finger up my butt.

 

“What the hell, Abby?”  I yelled, as I tried to sit up and watched Abby strip off the glove.

 

“You haven’t pooped your diaper yet.  That will help.”

 

Jenn gently cooed and patted me as she brought the diaper up between my legs and fastened it.  It was thick, definitely thicker than anything I had.  They had gotten me new diapers.

 

“It’s funny,” Abby said.  “Jenn wanted to know if I was going to make you poop your diaper without control, as she put it… well, no,” she said with a smile on her face.  “I think it’s better to have a choice, right?  I mean, it’s not your choice.  Jenn can decide whether she helps you get to the toilet, or just lets you poop your diaper.”

 

I gave a hopeful look to Jenn.  “Can I…”

 

Abby interrupted with a laugh.  “Not today, of course.  You’re staying in that bed for a few more days until everything is healed.  Today you poop in your diaper.”

 

As I lay there, Abby helped Jenn change the bedsheet under me and adjust my arms and legs a little.  The straps were left a little longer.  I still couldn’t get out of bed, but at least I could adjust the position of my limbs a little.   

 

Soon, they were finished in the room.  Abby left, and Jenn hopped up on the bed.  She bared a breast and I relaxed into her chest.  As before, her smell and touch calmed me, and I felt my fear and anxiety about the situation I was in melt away.  After a few minutes, there was a ding and her nipple was replaced by a bottle, with the same vanilla taste as before.  After I had emptied two bottles and sucked on her breasts for a while, I was sleepy, and she let me doze off.

 

 

 

-

This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.

 

[mushy bottom]

Caught by wife.  Check.  Sadistic relation takes over.  Check.  Having them be medical professionals is a plus.  Pace could be slower.  

[babyheadspace]

Great story thanks loving it

[Babypants]

These women are six kinds of stupid.  Performing surgery without consent and using a credit card to pay for everything required, never mind having it delivered to the door.  As soon as Greg gets his hands back and can reach a phone, he is one call away from owning these two for life.  If the story was set in Minneapolis around 1980, Aardvark, Platypus and Twinkletoes would do him right.  Want Abigail rendered incontinent as part of the settlement?  Consider it done!

[justforfun]

3 hours ago, mushy bottom said:

Caught by wife.  Check.  Sadistic relation takes over.  Check.  Having them be medical professionals is a plus.  Pace could be slower.  

1 hour ago, Babypants said:

These women are six kinds of stupid.  Performing surgery without consent and using a credit card to pay for everything required, never mind having it delivered to the door.  As soon as Greg gets his hands back and can reach a phone, he is one call away from owning these two for life.  If the story was set in Minneapolis around 1980, Aardvark, Platypus and Twinkletoes would do him right.  Want Abigail rendered incontinent as part of the settlement?  Consider it done!

😀

Oh yeah, I completely do not deny the trope-y and unrealistic nature of the story!  Non-consensual stories are pretty limited given that non-consensual is... well... it's fantasy at best.  I wouldn't say it *can't* happen in the real world, but, well... it was written to the requirements and terms of the contest.

So yeah, I accept and embrace the comments like these.  Completely agree.  Thanks for reading and commenting.

(Also, I agree pace could be slower.  I wrote this all this weekend when I was down with Covid... so, there you go.)

 

[justforfun]

 

As I surrender myself to her love, 
my 
identity begins to shift and transform. 

Like mist dissipating 
in the warmth of the morning sun, 
the boundaries of 
my 
self starts to blur and fade. 

My essence, 
once contained within the vessel of my being, 
now flows freely into 
her, 
a river merging with the vast ocean of her soul.

 

Of course, I waited as long as I could, but the suppository Abby had inserted was not to be denied.  Of course, my delay meant that I heard the guests chatting below as I arched my back and released the foul mess into my diaper, trying to keep my grunts as quiet as possible as I tried to not alert the guests to my situation.  Soon, I had no choice but to gently lower my now very full and smelling diaper to the bed.  It was awful.  

 

It felt like days before I finally heard the sounds of guests departing, and soon after the bedroom door opened.  Abby’s face immediately contorted into disgust.  “Oh Jenn,” she called in a sing-song voice, “you have a diaper to change…” and she shut the door.

 

A few minutes later Jenn entered, her face making a similar contortion as the smell hit.  “That pill really worked, huh?”  She looked at me, clearly imagining the task and not looking forward to it. Eventually, she concluded that it had to be done, and she had to do it.  Her face set, she went to the bathroom.  

 

The next few minutes were pleasant for no one.  The disgusting mess was soon confined to a garbage bag, double-bagged, and then put outside, and soon only a lingering shadow of a bad smell remained.

 

“I think we BOTH need this,” I said as Jenn sat on the bed and I placed my head in her lap, eager to re-experience the zen state I experienced when I was at her breast.  The calm, close contact experience wasn’t sexual, but it was very intimate, and it was fast becoming my anchor of sanity in this insane situation I found myself in.

 

The next few days were much the same.  I was never allowed to leave the bed, but I was kept clean, bandages were changed, diapers were changed, and every few hours Jenn and I had what I was quickly starting to consider our quality time as I was fed and had time to suck at her breasts.  At some point, I figured out that there must be something in the bottles that I was being fed because I was way too calm. There was no way I should be as relaxed as I was being kept restrained in a bed and having had surgery done on me.  

 

At some point, a few days in, I was aware that there were people delivering things and working downstairs.  Jenn had put my noise-canceling earbuds in and put on an audiobook for me, so the occasional banging and the smell of paint was the only hint I had that the warning Abby had given me about not calling out or making any noise was serious if I didn’t want to anyone to find me like this.  So I enjoyed the audiobook, knowing that every few hours Jenn would come to feed me.  She wouldn’t tell me anything about what was happening though.  I waited.

 

When Jenn came up the stairs at the end of the day, she was clearly exhausted.  Wearing her grungy work clothes, she was carrying two bottles as she plopped on the bed in her usual position, arranging the pillows so she could sit up.  I tried to ask her what was going on, but she wouldn’t answer, only telling me that it was almost done, just a little to finish up tomorrow, and maybe I’d be able to see it tomorrow.  

 

The scent of her sweat enveloped me as she lifted her shirt, and I was a little surprised as she opened up the cup which was clearly a new nursing bra.  With a smile, she guided my head in, and when she gently placed her shirt back down I was immersed in her scent and touch, lost to the rest of the world.  After some time she pulled me gently away and switched breasts.  I had started to nod off when I felt the nipple of the bottle on my lips, and I continued the same sucking motion, now drawing the familiar vanilla shake taste.

 

Soon, two bottles were down, and she was sitting up and getting herself back together.  She looked down at me as she adjusted her boob in the bra.  “It’s nice getting this time with you. I hope you like it.  Abby is downstairs still working, so you were my excuse to get away.”

 

“Of course, I like being with you," I said, and then proceeded to let out a wet belch, which she dabbed at with a white cloth that was on her shoulder, “but what is happening?  You can’t keep me here like this.”

 

She paused.  “You’re right, I can’t keep you like this, but things will become clearer tomorrow, I think.”  She kissed my forehead.  “I’ll be back in a few hours.  You want the TV remote?”

 

For the first time in several days, I could control something in my environment, and I gleefully clicked on the TV and started looking for something to watch, rather studiously ignoring that Jenn was efficiently changing my diaper.

 

Whatever was in the shakes, though, soon blurred my mind and the TV turned into noise and colors and then black as my eyes closed.  In the middle of the night, Jenn came in, and I again sucked at her breasts, a mix of dreams and reality as night came and went.

 

 

-

This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.

 

[Babypants]

15 hours ago, justforfun said:

Oh yeah, I completely do not deny the trope-y and unrealistic nature of the story!  Non-consensual stories are pretty limited given that non-consensual is... well... it's fantasy at best.  I wouldn't say it *can't* happen in the real world, but, well... it was written to the requirements and terms of the contest.

So yeah, I accept and embrace the comments like these.  Completely agree. 

I hear you!  The contest rules make writing a story that is fresh and free of the usual tropes a challenge akin to climbing Mount Everest.  I suppose the first order of business should be avoiding unforced errors.  Two have emerged here so far.  First, you are condemning him to crawling, but this is a common mistake in stories here.  The baby can crawl because the patella takes the form of cartilage, which is soft and flexible.  The adult knee, which is bone, cannot take this pounding for very long before all sorts of bad things begin to happen (I speak from personal experience here, having been reduced to crawling by sciatica attacks on multiple occasions).  High quality knee pads may spoil the baby look, but who knows?  Maybe they come in pink.  Second, you cannot leave someone spreadeagled on a bed with their arms immobilized above their head for an extended period of time.  Unless the person in control is very experienced, there is too great a risk that blood flow will be interrupted, and/or  nerves damaged.  Shoulder damage sufficiently serious to require physical therapy often results.   And no competent master/mistress would ever leave a fully restrained sub unattended.  At the very least, there should be a camera in the room monitoring the sub at all times.

One of the advantages of publishing between covers is that you have an editor looking out for this sort of thing, with a Rolodex full of experts in this, that, and the other thing to do the heavy lifting when the author gets in over his/her head.  The rest of us are on our own, but a multi-generational crowd of incontinent folk, adult babies and diaper lovers is so diverse that it makes for an informed audience.  In this demographic, it's hard to make an unforced error that isn't going to be caught by somebody!  Some will pass over them in silence, while others will bring them to the author's attention, from a conviction that this is how a writer ups his/her game.  

  

 

[justforfun]

1 hour ago, Babypants said:

First, you are condemning him to crawling, but this is a common mistake in stories here. 

Well, he's being condemned to not be able to walk... but he's not really expected to crawl much.  I'll accept a yellow card on this one.

1 hour ago, Babypants said:

Second, you cannot leave someone spreadeagled on a bed with their arms immobilized above their head for an extended period of time.  [...]   And no competent master/mistress would ever leave a fully restrained sub unattended.

Agree with the comment on spreadeagled for a long time not being viable.  I actually thought about that, but in my Covid-muddled mind I shrugged and moved on.  As far as being monitored I thought about making a comment about the baby monitor that was added... but I didn't.  Perhaps in the re-write.  

Edited to add:  Hey, I did put a comment in there!

I had been laying in that position since 9 am, and I was thirsty and hungry, and my diaper was about to leak, but I figured I’d address the most important needs first.

 

“That’s a good point, Jenn.  When we keep patients in restraints, we need to keep moving them to avoid bed sores and other issues.  Let’s reposition him.” 

 

Also, "competent mistress" is, as they say, doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.  Abby is incredibly cruel, but I don't think she is an experienced mistress or really at all aware of what's considered wise in these ways.  She is not doing this as a "scene".  After all, she just did non-consensual surgery on the poor guy.  Frankly I'm not sure that the risks of leaving him alone upstairs is really something she's concerned about.

1 hour ago, Babypants said:

One of the advantages of publishing between covers is that you have an editor looking out for this sort of thing, with a Rolodex full of experts in this, that, and the other thing to do the heavy lifting when the author gets in over his/her head. 

Completely agree here, and one of the advantages of posting chapters over time is that input from the group can be considered, allowing the author to correct mid-course if things are going off the rails, or "ret-con" something to fix an error.  In this case, though, I wrote the complete story, so opportunities for changes are pretty minimal.  I definitely appreciate the feedback and dialog, as it's something that I'll keep in mind for next time.  I also started another story that has a much longer arc, and I've already tweaked something there based on your feedback.  So thank you!

[Babypants]

When someone gives you a basket of lemons, as the saying goes, you gotta get busy making lemonade!  And this contest is a lemon of the first order-- on the surface at least.  Since the rules governing seem designed to inspire stereotypical mush, the person ponying up the prizes is either addicted to jabberwocky, or very clever indeed.  It seems to me, therefore, that anyone participating needs first to step back and ask: what's going on here?  Why would anyone solicit more trope riddled stories to stash alongside the hundreds if not thousands already in the files?  Being devious by nature, and a person very much taken with Plato's Allegory of the Cave, I would gamble that he/she is being clever, and opt to go in the opposite direction, with a story that pushes back.  For example, "forced into babyhood" doesn't necessarily mean "permanently forced into babyhood."  Find wiggle room, and exploit it.  Use humor, and don't hesitate to take it to the extremes of absurdity.  Keeping in mind that human breast milk contains about 20% more lactose than cow's milk, wouldn't it be hilarious if someone like Jenn went to all the trouble of lactating, only to discover that that extra 20% is the difference between being lactose tolerant and lactose intolerant?  Oops!

   

[justforfun]

 

With each passing moment, 
I feel the layers of 
my 
individual existence peeling away, 
revealing the core of my being 
that yearns to be one with her. 

My 
thoughts, my dreams, 
my 
very essence begins to intertwine with 
hers, 
creating a tapestry of shared consciousness. 

The 'I' that once was becomes 'we,' 
a union so complete that the lines 
between 
us 
cease to exist.

In this metamorphosis, 
I am both lost and found. 
Lost is the solitary self that once stood apart, 
but found is a greater purpose, 
a deeper meaning within 
her 
love. Like a phoenix rising 
from the ashes of my former self, 

I am reborn in the crucible of our connection, 
my identity now inextricably linked with 
hers.

 

The only break from the boredom of the next day was the visits from Jenn and the TV.  Mostly I lay there, staring only partly comprehendingly at the TV, waiting for the feeding, attention, and diaper change that she provided every few hours.  In the evening, she informed me that they were close to finished, but not quite, so my release would have to wait for tomorrow.  She informed me this with my head cradled in her breast, sucking on her nipple, so I took it like everything else that week.  With no way to change or affect the decision, I kept sucking and relaxed.

 

The next morning I was roused by a flurry of activity in the room.  I realized that I was still lying in Jenn’s lap, her pajama top over my head, and I was at her breast.  Had I been there last night or had she gotten me like this without waking?  Out of the corner of my eye, through the cloth of the pajamas, I could see an indistinct shape moving in the early morning light.

 

The indistinct shape, Abby, soon started opening my diaper.  This was a first, normally she make Jenn do this.  Jenn just pulled my head in tighter to her bosom as I was held silent with my lips latched to her nipple.  I felt cold around my groin as she washed me, and then some fumbling with my penis.  She taped up a dry diaper.

 

“Ok Jenn, get your nipple out of his mouth.”  I felt my head being gently pulled away, and then suddenly I felt like I had been stabbed in the groin.  My back arched and I pulled hard at the restraints, my hands trying futilely to get to my crotch.

 

“AW FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT WAS THAT?!  YOU BImmmmph” came out of my mouth before Jenn pulled me back into her breasts, holding me tightly.

 

Abby laughed, and as Jenn slowly released her hold on my head I could see the remote control Abby held.  “Your sister is probably too nice to use this to start with, but I convinced her it was a good insurance policy.  That was just a 10 out of 99!”  Abby’s face had a look of glee, and her finger moved toward a button.  “Want to try higher?”

 

“No!”, Jenn and I yelled in unison.

 

“That’s enough, Abby,” Jenn said.  “It works.  You have your backup plan.  Now let’s get him off this bed, OK?”

 

Abby grinned, her finger menacingly hovering over the button.  “Here’s the deal.  We’re going to bring you downstairs and show you how things are going to go from now on.  If you so much as flick an eyebrow that makes me think you might consider doing something stupid, I’m going to zap you.  And then probably zap you again.  Kapiche?”

 

I nodded slowly.  My mental calendar on when I could try to escape moved out a while.  As long as Abby was here and that thing was on my balls…

 

“Ok, so, nice and easy, let’s get you up.”  She stepped out of the room for a moment and came back with what looked like a large stroller.  “I don’t want you to test your feet yet, so you can ride in here to the stairs, and then scoot down the stairs on your bottom.”  

 

“On my bottom?”  

 

Abby shrugged.  “Sorry, best we could come up with.  Do you want out here, or not?  If you’re cooperative, we’ll help and things will be easy.  If you’re not cooperative…” She held up the remote.  “Ready?”

 

I did want out, and decided that, for now, cooperation was most likely to be the right move to get out of the restraints that I’d been in for what I realized had been a week.  I nodded, and soon the locks were removed and I could move freely.  I swung my arms, feeling the stiffness in my joints.  

 

Abby tensed, her finger going to the remote.   “Careful now…” she warned.

 

I stopped, my arms out.  “Just stretching…”

 

“I know, but don’t hit Jenn with those casts.  OK, slide over and we’ll help you in.”

 

Naked except for the diaper I wore, I moved myself to the side of the bed and Abby and Jen helped lift me into the stroller.  I didn’t have much time to get used to it, though, as soon we were at the top of the stairs and I was lifted back out and placed on my diaper-padded bottom.  Awkwardly and slowly, the sisters helped me down a stair at a time until I was at the bottom.  Out of habit I tried to put my feet down, but was quickly and painfully reminded that my feet were off limits as stabbing pains radiated through the soles of my feet.

 

“Try crawling,” said Jenn, her phone up to take pictures.  The remote was still in her hand and she held it for me to see.  “Crawl to the guest wing.”

 

Our house was set up with the master bedroom upstairs, and two wings downstairs.  On one side of the staircase was the living room, kitchen, and so on, and on the other side were the guest rooms, which we hoped someday to have as kids' rooms.  Abby was gesturing me down the hall in the direction of the guest rooms.

 

With a sigh, I rolled over.  My hands in the casts slipped on the wooden floor and I winced as my knees pressed on the hard surface, but I made it a few feet to the plush carpet where things were easier, and I made my way down the dark hallway towards the closed doors to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Jenn walked ahead, waiting with a broad smile next to the closed door of the back bedroom.

 

She looked down at me.  My knees already hurt from the short crawl, and it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t going to be racing away from this nightmare under my own power anytime soon.  “Ready to see what we’ve done for you?”  She opened the door.

 

Light flowed into the hall.  Not just from the bright sun pouring in through the windows, causing me to squint, but from the pastel blues, greens, and yellows that assaulted my eyes.

 

“Do you like it?” she asked, her enthusiasm giving a strong hint about the expected answer.  I just knew that Abby, behind me, had her finger on the button.

 

“Um.  Of course,” I lied, not even sure what I was looking at.  I realized it was a nursery.  One side had what looked like the bars of a giant playpen.  On the other side was a giant crib.  Between them, under the windows, a table with a padded top.  A changing table, I realized, the shelves loaded with diapers, wipes, and clothes.

 

“Uh, wow,” I continued, taking it all in, “where did you get all this… stuff?”  I moved forward into the room, my hands and knees sinking into what I realized was a floor covered in foam puzzle squares.  My knees immediately felt better.

 

“Well, Kristin was a great help,” said Abby behind me.  “It turns out that she knew someone trying to sell off a bunch of adult baby furniture, and well,”  she gestured.

 

“But I’m not a b…”  I started when Abby laughed.  

 

“See, I knew you’d say that.  That’s why we placed a reminder over your crib!”  Abby pointed at the big “BABY” sign in blue bubble letters hanging on the wall.  A camera sat blinking prominently in the “A”.

 

 “Ok, tour time.  I’m so proud of this.  You are so lucky that you have so many people who care enough to do this for you!”

 

She walked over to the crib.  She stepped on a lever on the floor and the part of the bars on the front swung open like a door.  I could see the blue sheets inside, decorated with airplanes and trucks, and some stuffed animals arranged around.  “Here’s a nice comfy place for you to sleep, and easy for you to get into and out of!  Moving to her left she gestured at a couch with some cushions and an ottoman.  “Here’s a day bed, set up for your num nums, and a comfy place for mommy to sleep if she needs to.  

 

“And of course,” she said, walking to the table in front of me, a place to change dirty diapers!  Since we just changed you, we’ll get to that later.  But we do have some clothes… she reached to a shelf on the table and pulled out what looked like a light blue T-shirt.”

 

Walking in front of me she went to the barred area and opened a door.  “And a big playpen to keep you out of the way during the day.  There are even a bunch of toys in there for you!  And you can see the TV if mommy lets you watch that.  Why don’t you check it out?”

 

Mesmerized and horrified by what I saw, I didn’t move.  Suddenly I was stabbed in the groin by knives. 

 

“ARGH!!!!” I wailed, curing up into a ball.  Tears came to my eyes as the pain washed through me.  She held the button down and for several seconds I was immobilized, focused only on the shock in my groin.  When it ended I lay there, whimpering.

 

“I don’t usually ask twice,” Abby chastised me, as she grabbed a shoulder and directed me towards the playpen.  As I got to the door she stopped me and then held the shirt out.  “Put your hands in,” she said as she held the shirt with the arms available, and I quickly put my arms and head through the appropriate holes.  She surprised me as she knelt down in front of me, and then pulled the back of the shirt to the front and fastened some snaps.  I realized I was wearing a onesie.  She patted my diaper.  “Helps hold all this in place for big babies as well as small babies.”

 

She stood up and looked me over.  “Ok, now you’re stylish.  Into your playpen!” Not wanting to risk another shock, I crawled forward.  As I entered, I realized the top was covered with a mesh from side to side.  The wooden bars were about four feet high so I could kneel, but wouldn’t have been able to stand even if I could.  I crawled to the side and tried to stick my arm out, but the mesh kept me from getting anywhere near the release latch.  It was a cage I was stuck in.  A baby cage.  I couldn’t believe what was happening to me.

 

Abby quickly took Jenn out of the room, and as soon as the door was closed I broke down, sobbing.  I wanted to wear normal clothes.  I wanted Abby gone.  I wanted Jenn as a wife.  I wanted my old life back.

 

I sobbed.  Soon, a feeling in my gut told me what I had been getting used to all week, and I knew that soon I would fill my diaper.  I sobbed.  I filled my diaper.  I sobbed some more.  I fell asleep.

 

Sometime later I heard the gate open and a zipper sound as the mesh on the top was peeled back a little.  Jenn entered.

 

“You ok, babe?” she said softly, lovingly, caringly.  I woke slowly, her hand gently brushing the crusty tears from my eyes as I lay on the floor.  I didn’t respond.

 

“Let’s get you changed, ok?  Can you work with me?”  I still didn’t respond.  She was part of the cause of this, even if Abby had done most of the damage.

 

“C’mon, babe, I love you, time to get that stinky diaper changed.  Wouldn’t that feel better?  And then you might be hungry for some lunch?  Lunch with me?”

 

Ok, that did it.  The promise of her breast was indeed something I’d like.  I slowly pulled myself to my knees and crawled out as she guided me to the changing table.  She pulled out something from the side and I realized that it was some steps, helping me crawl up onto the white padded plastic surface.  She helped me roll over, the disgusting mess squelching as it spread over the rear of the diaper.

 

As she had for the last week, she put on her, “I can do this” face and with the help of a pair of gloves, a lot of wipes, some washcloths, some small talk, and a lot of grit she managed to get me cleaned up.  Soon, I was wearing another thick disposable diaper and a new onesie, the old one having been consigned to the “wash with bleach” pile.

 

Helping me down from the changing table we made our way to the couch, where I now eagerly scampered up and waited for her to make herself ready.  It wasn’t long before her scent filled my nose, he breast was on my cheek, and I was sucking contentedly on her nipple.  She held me close and I relaxed into her, as I always did.  

 

Soon Abby made an appearance and delivered two bottles, which I downed.  As I started sucking air from the second bottle, Jen pulled it away.  “Alright, I know you were just sleeping, but it’s nap time.  Let’s try out your crib.”

 

I did not want to do that.  “I want to stay here with you.”

 

“No, Greg.  Abby and I have some things that we need to do this afternoon before her vacation is over and she needs to leave.  You need to get in your crib, now.”

 

I looked at her pleadingly and whined, “No, not the crib.  Can I just stay here?”

 

“Greg, get in the crib now.”  Her voice had changed.  The tone had lost a lot of the loving.  I saw a little bit of Abby in her stern face.  I didn’t want her to be Abby.  I wanted her to be my Jenn.  I relented and got off the couch and crawled to the crib.  Jenn walked beside me and helped me into the open door, which was quickly closed.  The bars I saw overhead were not a surprise at all.  I lay there, able to stretch out but not really move much, and realized how much more confining the crib was than the playpen.  I tossed around a bit to find a good position, finally cuddling a stuffed bear to me as I looked for comfort.  Whatever was in the drinks was effective, and even though I wasn’t really tired I passed out soon.

 

 

-

This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.

 

 

[mushy bottom]

Missed a golden opportunity to kill her.  2 blows with the cast and she's dead.  Only way out.

[Babypants]

2 hours ago, mushy bottom said:

Missed a golden opportunity to kill her.  2 blows with the cast and she's dead.  Only way out.

Bit premature.  Wait for the sister to depart, then try and reason with wife.  Try to explain the difference between play time and life style, and if she is not amenable to reason, agree to a divorce.  If she refuses, go inert.  Do nothing, and let her have a go at looking after a 100 pound plus baby who doesn't play along.  What you want to find out is whether she is so far gone that she will zap you.  If she does, then pretend to capitulate and go back to sucking her tits.  She'll probably have the control device in hand, but once her finger wanders, bite down hard on her tit.  Literally, try and tear it off.  She will recoil as you pull away, greatly increasing the pain as she goes into shock.  Use the cast on either mandible to get her down, then an overhead hammer blow to the bridge of the nose  to kill her (strike above the mandible).  Use the cast to break a window and call for help.  If no one responds, grab diapers with your mouth to line the sill, then crawl outside.  Next stop the hospital.

Sister ends up in an asylum for the criminally insane.  You join daily diapers, find a true soul mate, and live happily ever after.

Author collects prize money for being the first writer around here actually to kill somebody off in a "forced into babyhood" contest.

[justforfun]

1 hour ago, Babypants said:

Author collects prize money for being the first writer around here actually to kill somebody off in a "forced into babyhood" contest.

Ok, that was truly a LOL. 😂  If I hadn't already finished this I would definitely go in that direction!  Maybe I'll have to go back and do an alternate "Black Mirror" ending.

[mushy bottom]

Sorry, but I don't see any pushback here, so how is the guy being forced into babyhood?  He needs to use his casts to kick some ass.

[justforfun]

2 hours ago, mushy bottom said:

Sorry, but I don't see any pushback here, so how is the guy being forced into babyhood?  He needs to use his casts to kick some ass.

I guess not everyone wants to go all Misery on their wife.  Maybe he is just a non-violent guy.  Maybe he thinks that attacking one of the sisters will go very badly when the other sister sees him trying to escape and amputates his genitalia, arms, and legs with a sawzall.  *shrug*

 

[justforfun]

In her embrace, 
I find that all my strength is 
hers, 
and I give all that I am to 
her. 

My essence flows into 
her 
being, as rivers merge with the sea, 
losing their identity yet 
becoming part of something greater. 

As I surrender myself entirely, 
my individual identity fades, 
and I become whole in her love. 

No longer am I a solitary soul, 
but a part of 
her, 
dependent as a newborn, 

cradled in the warmth of her unwavering 
affection.

 

The sun had shifted when I awoke, and it was warm lying in the sun.  I sat up, both my diaper and the mattress crinkling under me.  I took a minute to take stock of my situation.  I pulled up a foot and looked at the bottom.  Several little wounds, mostly healed, were over some bumps on my foot.  I pressed gently and felt the little balls under my skin.  Walking would be out of the question until I could get those out.  My wrists were in casts that went forward under my fingers,  largely open on the top of my hand but with several bars that went across, immobilizing my fingers.  

 

And, of course, the diaper.  It was covered by the onesie, appearing just as a bulge on my crotch and a wet feeling in my groin.  Wet.  I really hoped that was reversible, but I hadn’t so much as felt a twinge of needing to pee in a week, and my diaper was wet every time I was checked.  

 

I looked outside the crib.  The changing table, the playpen… the only thing that I liked was the little couch with the pillows where Jen and I had sat.  

 

And that was that.  I couldn’t open the crib door, of course.  The bars kept me from being able to get to the lever, even if I could have done something with it.  I sat there, the stuffed bear in my lap.

 

“Jenn?”  I called out.  “Jenn?”  Nothing.  I could see the cameras, one on each side of the room, looking down at me, but I couldn’t tell whether they were active, or whether anyone was actually looking.  

 

A little louder.  “Jenn?”  

 

A few minutes later, Jenn showed up.  “Sorry, baby, we were busy.  Let’s get you changed, and then Abby wants to talk to you before she has to leave tomorrow.”

 

Abby leaving tomorrow was the first good news I heard in a week, but her wanting to talk to me… Well, THAT wasn’t a good thing.  Jenn was kind and gentle, though, so I managed to get out of the crib after Jenn opened the door and followed her on my knees to the changing table where she was quick and efficient at getting me in a dry diaper.

 

“Where should we talk to Abby?” Jenn asked as she finished taping up the thick white diaper and snapping the onesie back shut between my legs.

 

“Um, what kind of discussion is this?” I asked nervously.

 

Jenn’s hand rested on my chest, and she looked directly at me.  “You need to decide your future.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“I’ll let Abby explain… why don’t we go to the living room?  That’s a long craw for you, though.  Hold on a minute,” and she left the room as I sat up on the changing table.  

 

A minute later she was back with the stroller I had been transported in upstairs.  Jenn positioned it near me and then, without warning, picked me up off the changing table.  Now, I knew she could lift me, as our, um, wrestling matches had proven many times, but I didn’t like it and she had never done it outside of a bedtime context.  It didn’t seem she strained that hard, even, as she lifted my frame, turned, and deposited me in the stroller.  

 

“Ooof,” I let out, “are you ok?”  

 

She smiled as her hand dug between my legs, getting another “eek” out of me, as she pulled a strap up.  “You’re not that heavy.  I wouldn’t want to carry you all over, but it’s easier this way.”  She pulled straps over my shoulders and clicked them to the strap at my crotch.  As she adjusted the straps I realized that with my hands in the casts, I was trapped here.

 

“Alright, let’s try this out.  Comfy?”  I nodded.  It wasn’t all that bad as we made our way out of what I could only call the nursery toward the living room.  

 

Abby was waiting for us there and Jenn parked me in an open area.  Leaning back as I was in the low stroller, I felt at a distinct disadvantage, looking up at both of them as they stood next to me.  Luckily, they took chairs, which made it not quite as awkward.

 

“So,” Abby began after a moment, “Jenn wanted me to give you a choice.  I wasn’t in favor of that,” she said, as she took a sip of wine from a glass, “but she’s my sister and your wife, so I guess what she says, goes.”

 

“Here’s the choice I’ll offer you.  The first is divorce.”  Jenn looked sharply at Abby.  I guess they hadn’t discussed this.  “That’s your out clause.  I will drop you at an institution someplace and Jenn, and I and a bunch of friends will wail about how your self-harm tendencies finally got to be too much, and how you wanted to be a baby, and harmed yourself behind poor Jenn’s back.  You can tell any stories you want about a crazy doctor sister that made you incontinent, but who the hell will believe that?”  She smiled and sipped her wine.  

 

“But, I promised Jenn I’d give you an out, so that’s your out. The second choice, you sign legal papers that make you a dependent of Jenn.  You and she will be together forever, or, at least until she finally gets sick of you and puts you in a care home.  You will sign a power of attorney, medical permission, and anything else my lawyer friend can think of that will legally bind you to her until she tires of you.  So what will it be.”

 

I thought.  “Or,” I began slowly, “There’s a third choice, which is Jenn convinces you top stop this, I forget about your crazy crap and Jenn and I go on living as we had, happy together.”

 

“Diaper boy,” Abby smirked, “there are only two choices.  You need to choose one or the other, or I’ll find something else to do to make you regret not choosing.”  A swig of wine and she looked at Jenn with a smirk.  “You know, it’s kind of annoying to put someone with a penis in diapers.  It’s always pointing in the wrong direction, and causing leaks all over.  Maybe I could, you know, give you a little hygiene help.  With a scalpel.”

 

Jenn, to her credit, almost managed to match my horrified look.  Abby just laughed.

 

“Look, make a decision.”  She pulled out the remote and paused.  I looked at her.  She pushed the button and the knives went through my groin.  She looked at me.  I looked at her.  She showed me the remote as she pushed the plus pushed a button several times and looked at me again.  She pushed the red button.  This time it was a rusty serrated set of knives that jabbed me in the groin. I tried to scream but only a grunt came out.   “That was 20,” she said and pushed the plus button a bunch more times.  She looked at me.  “Goes to 99, you know, and now we’re at 30.”  She went to push the shock button again.

 

“Stop!”  I finally blubbered.  “Ok, ok, I’ll choose, you fucking monster!”  I gasped for breath and Abby meanancly moved her thumb toward the shock button again.

 

“Spit it out, baby, what’s your choice?”

 

“Of course, I don’t want a divorce, I want to stay with Jenn!”

 

“And you agree to sign papers to that effect?  With a notary?”

 

“Yes!  Just, don’t shock me, please!!”

 

Abby put down the remote and picked up her cell phone.  She dialed.  “Hi, Jill!  Yes, we’re going to need the power of attorney docs and the others that I sent to you…  That would be great… Yes, they will both be here.  I’ll text you the address… Great, thanks, see you soon!”

 

Abby smiled.  “Ok, Jenn will be over in about thirty minutes.  She’s a friend of mine who is a notary.  Here’s the deal.”  She looked at us both.  “Jill doesn’t know what’s going on, and she won’t find out.  As far as she knows you’re suffering from a degenerative neurological disease, and you need to get some paperwork done to make medical care easier.  OK?”

 

Jenn nodded.

 

Abby looked at me.  “Ok?”  She held up the remote.  I nodded.

 

“So I will remove the cast on your left hand.  You can use your thumbprint to sign.  You can sit in this stroller, and we’ll cover you with a blanket to be a little more, you know, discreet.  About your debilitating condition, and all.”  She smirked.

 

“And if you so much as think that you might want to do something dumb, like trying to get her involved by telling her something you shouldn’t, you will have several of the most painful neurological spasms you’ve ever had and we will immediately whisk you away for your medication.  I suggest not talking at all unless you’re given a direct question, just in case I misinterpret what you’re trying to say, OK?”  She showed me the remote, and the shock was now set to 99.

 

And that’s what happened.  My cast was removed, a blanket covered me to give a little discretion, and soon the doorbell rang.  Jill was a heavy-set woman carrying a bag and was clearly in a hurry.  I watched her pull a stack of papers from the bag and place them on the table.

 

“We have a bunch of papers to sign, so let’s get started.  I received these from your lawyer, so you’ve already reviewed them and know what you’re signing?”   Abby nodded, and Jenn nodded.  Jill looked at me.  I stayed still.  Jill looked at me and then moved on, perhaps a little shaken by a small man in a stroller.

 

“First, IDs.  You have your’s, Jennifer, as well as Greg’s?”  IDs were handed over.  Thumbprints were taken, including mine when Jill brought the book to me.

 

“First paper, a petition for a name change for Greg.”  My eyes lit up, and I saw Abby’s hand, already in her pocket, shift slightly.  I stayed quiet.  

 

“Yeah, Jennifer didn’t take Greg’s name when they were married, so they’re worried that may complicate things in the hospital, so he’s going to take her last name.”

 

“No problem.  Greg, I need you to put your thumbprint here, first next to Greg Jones Addison. Good, and then here, next to Greg Addison Avery… I like how you are keeping your last name as a middle name.  It’s a nice name.  Ok, that will apply for the rest of these signings, and when that gets recorded at the court tomorrow morning, you’ll officially be Greg Addison Avery.”  She filed away the paper.  I looked at my thumb.  It had just given away my name.

 

“Ok, second paper, and this is the big one.  Power of Attorney.  Greg, you are signing the Power of Attorney document, naming Jennifer Avery.  This is Durable power of attorney, including for legal, medical, and financial decisions. Correct?”  Abby’s hand moved in her pocket as she looked at me meaningfully.  

 

I nodded.  “Yes, that’s correct,” I said quietly. The paper was provided, and then my thumb gave away Greg Addison Avery’s life to his wife.

 

“And now we have a big stack.  Since Jennifer has power of attorney, we’ll just have her do these, OK?” Jill looked at me as if I was a child.  I guess I was now.  She signed papers giving her sole access to all the bank accounts, the retirement accounts, and even my frequent flyer accounts.  I watched Jenn sign a paper requesting the DMV revoke my driver's license.  Abby had been thorough.

 

A tear formed in my eye, and Abby, with a soft look for once, wheeled me back to the nursery.  I didn’t put up any fight as she helped me into the crib and then put a padded mitten on my free hand, securing it with a strap around my wrist. I was too destroyed to even bother to protest. I heard the front door close as the papers representing the end of my independence left the house.

 

As the crib door clicked shut, I realized how screwed I was.  Even if I could get out of the house, the legal bonds that had just been created with my thumb print represented a whole additional layer of dependency on Jenn. I had no idea if it would be even possible to untangle that web, or what Abby would do to me if I tried. I realized what I really wanted was for Jenn to come in and hold me to her breast and tell me it was all just a bad dream and everything would all be OK.  Quietly, I sobbed myself to sleep.

 

 

-

This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.

 

[Babypants]

Hopefully, there's more to come, but my problem at this point is structural.  Fiction centers on conflict, in the absence of which the "story" is mere description.  The way you've set it up, the potential for conflict is limited by the fact that you have 3 characters, one a sadist who exhibits no internal conflict, and one a victim positioned from the outset to be effectively a quadriplegic with no say in determining his fate.  This makes the wife, whom I would type as the pawn, the critical player because she is the only one with a capacity for internal conflict that would lead her to act in a way that rescues the victim from his fate.  You have hinted that she has doubts about the wisdom of her actions, and I encourage you to continue down this path.  It's looks to be the only potential source of conflict that could lift this from descriptive text to story telling. 

[littlebopeeper]

This made me smile.  I would expect the Durable Power of Attorney to harbor fiduciary language that prevents transfer of property to the person executing in order to avoid conflict of interest.  Dive into this a bit, and you will probably come upon criminal as well as civil penalties.  I have twiddled my thumbs in Family Court on many an occasion waiting for cases to clear that involve activating this document outside of an end of life situation or when dealing with an elderly person formally diagnosed as afflicted with dementia or Alzheimer's.  In the case of a young person, a neurological disorder would not qualify unless the individual was otherwise demonstrated to be non compos mentis.  Severe ALS did not, for example, prevent Dr. Stephen Hawking from managing his own affairs.  Sorry, but I cannot conceive of a jurisdiction in which someone could be deprived of their rights to property in this fashion without going through a formal court hearing. 

[justforfun]

In response to comments I wrote two additional epilogues.  Call it a choose-your-own-ending.

The first here is the one I wrote originally.  Haven't decided if I space out the posting of the two alternates or just post them together tomorrow. 

Without further ado, the original:

 

Epilogue 1 - The Original

And so, in this unity, 
we 
find our happiness. 

I am reborn in her love, 
as she nurtures me with the 
tenderness of a 
mother 
and the passion of a lover. 

Together, 
we 
navigate the tapestry of life, 
our hearts beating in perfect harmony, 
forever entwined in the sacred dance of 
love."

 

Six weeks later, Abby returned.  Life had changed.  Jenn and I were on the nursing couch when I heard the door open and Jenn gave a “Shh….” to the new arrival.

 

“Hu isch ut?”  I tried to ask around Jenn’s nipple.  My view was obstructed by the light blanket she had placed over my head to keep me from trying to see her phone as she browsed during my feeding.  Her breasts were much larger now, engorged with milk that was now a substantial part of my diet.  I went back to the wave rhythm with my tongue and I felt her give a little quiver, and her milk came strongly into my mouth.

 

“Hi, Abby.  C’mon in.  We’re feeding,” Jenn said a little breathlessly as the mini-orgasm of the let-down flowed through her.

 

“I can see that.  Wow, your boobs look even bigger in real life than in the pictures you sent.  Nice!”

 

“Thanks!” Jenn responded above me.  “We’ll be done in a few minutes.  Grab some wine from the fridge.”  My world was confined to the smell and feel of Jenn’s breasts and the feeling of the milk seemingly going straight to warming my diaper, so I continued my job as Jenn and Abby enjoyed a glass of wine.

 

Soon her breasts were empty and we were done.  “Time for a diaper change!”  Jenn said, patting the front of my diaper and helping me over to the changing table.  Over the course of the last six weeks, I had gotten much better about getting around as the tiny balls in my feet kept me on my knees.  I moved quickly to the table, eager for a dry diaper to replace the sodden mess currently bunching between my legs.  Abby sauntered over, her glass of wine still in hand, as Jenn clipped the D-rings on the mittens I wore to the top of the table.  “He tried to get off the table once, so now we just don’t take any chances,” Jen said, pulling a strap firmly over my chest.

 

“Oh, and cloth diapers now.  Very progressive,”  Abby noted approvingly.

 

Jenn unsnapped the crotch of the onesie I was wearing and removed the plastic pants.  “Yeah, Kristin convinced me to try the cloth diapers.  It’s been a lot easier than I expected.  She has been a great help.  She’s been doing some babysitting so I can get out and knows so much about all this.  She’s been great to have around.”  

 

The thick cloth diapers bulged and cooled in the air.  Suddenly I felt myself peeing, much to the delight of the sisters.  I rolled my eyes.  It’s not like I had anything to do with it.

 

As Jenn unpinned the diaper and started to open it, Abby looked over expectantly.  “There it is!  Wow, it’s so tiny.  I wouldn’t have expected that he could fit in there.  You should start calling him Little Addy.”  The chastity cage Jenn had put on me occasionally for the first few weeks, but more and more often recently, stood out, restraining what was trying to become an erection.

 

“No, he’s still Greg.  Well, what you said about the pee going everywhere and leaking was true.  And a few times I caught him humping his diaper, and I was thinking about what he did to get in this position in the first place, so, well…” she shrugged.  “But I do feel a little bad.  He’s so darn horny.”

 

I felt my face redden.  It was true.  With no outlet, I was going nuts.  Jenn had taught me how to put my tongue, strengthened by breastfeeding, to uses that I wouldn’t have done for her before I had become her baby, but I was left horny and desperate.  

 

“Well, that’s why I’m here, sis.  Let’s show you how to do this.  Let’s try it without removing his cute little cage.”

 

I was curious.  What were they trying?  I tried to lift my head but with my arms over my head and the strap on my chest, I couldn’t see much.  When Jenn unfolded a clean cloth diaper and put it over my head, my attempts were ended.

 

I would feel them lift my legs… pushing my knees back… and then “Hey!” I cried out, as something went into my butt.  There was motion… and more motion inside me… and they were talking quietly, and something wiggled, and there was a pleasurable feeling, and then I heard Jenn say, “Hey look!”

 

“Here, use this to catch it!” I heard Abby say, as I felt something fumbling with the chastity cage.  

 

“There is so much!”

 

“Ok, that’s it.  Let’s get this out… and legs down…”

 

My butt was lowered onto the familiar feeling of a dry cloth diaper which was quickly pulled between my legs, pinned, and then encapsulated in plastic pants.  The onesie was re-snapped, and I was back to what passed for normal these days.

 

“Where are you going with that?” Jenn asked, but Abby didn’t answer as she left the room before the diaper over my head was removed and the restraints were released.  “Could you grab the two feeding bottles?”  Jenn yelled to the departing Abby as she guided me back to our couch.  

 

I felt… Relaxed?  Drained?  Something was different.  

 

Abby returned a few minutes later with the bottles.  “Here you go,” and she handed Jenn the bottle.  At Kristin’s suggestion, even when I was drinking from the bottle these days Jenn lifted her shirt and put me against the skin of her breast, her nipple at my nose as the bottle’s nipple entered my mouth.  The now-boring taste of the vanilla shake entered my mouth.  I sucked.  It seemed off.  I sucked some more.  Salty.  I sucked some more.

 

Suddenly I realized why it tasted off.  I knew what I was drinking.  I thrashed, but Jenn’s strong arms kept me in place and the nipple in my mouth as the liquid ran down my throat.  Soon I tired and gave in, crying around the nipple invading my mouth, delivering the polluted shake.  I heard Jenn and Abby talking above me.

 

“So, at least you don’t have to worry about that now.  Next time will be easier. You don’t even have to give it to him in the very next bottle… dilute it, and spread it around.  He needed more protein in his diet anyway.”  They both laughed.  I was crying a little.   

 

“Tell me, Jenn, how good friends are you and Kristin getting to be?”  I could hear to coyness in Abby’s voice.

 

“Pretty good friends.”

 

“Pretty good?  Like, friends, friends?”

 

“She’s been so helpful.  She’s been babysitting a lot, like I said, and, well, we kind of hit it off.”  I closed my eyes.

 

“Like hit it off, hit it off?  I know she and Danny broke up.”

 

“Knock it off, Abby.”  She paused.  “Yes, we’re seeing each other.”

 

I heard a little clap.  I had known this, but hearing it out loud…

 

“Oh, you HAVE to tell me the story!”

 

Jenn laughed. “Well, the last six weeks have been pretty crazy.  But it’s a long story.  I think this one…” she bent her head down as she lifted the blanket and kissed me on the forehead, “has finished his bottle and needs to go to bed.  Go pour more wine while I put him in his crib, and I’ll tell you about it in the kitchen?”

 

I slowly got up from the couch as Jenn helped me to the crib, giving me a maternal kiss again before she closed the barred crib door with a click.  “Good night, baby.  I love you,” she whispered as she left.

 

 “I love you too,”  I whispered as the nursery room door closed softly behind her.

 

-

This story is copyright by me, justforfun, and no rights are given to re-publish this story anywhere other than Daily Diapers unless you get my explicit permission.

 

[Babypants]

Okay, further thoughts.  First, it has never risen from descriptive text to a story because at no point was there any conflict here, and that is the sine qua non of writing fiction.  Here are the specifics:

1) Setting:  This entire story takes place inside three rooms of an undefined home.  Where is it?  Is there a house just beyond the nursery window?  An open field?  You do a great job of detailing both the bedroom and the nursery (the bit about the open suitcase in the bedroom is a master touch), but you don't give us enough information to allow the reader to judge whether he should try to escape or not.  This is easily repaired, but as it reads it really magnifies the problems with the characters.

2) Characters: there are only three, the villain, the pawn, and the victim.  

Victim: the weak link in the text.  A de facto quadriplegic as the story opens, he needs to rely on his mind to win over his wife, but you never allow him to do so.  Indeed, one of the most striking features of the test is the lack of dialogue given to him.  He never attempts to engage his wife, who repeatedly seduces him by allowing him to access her tits.  Really?  From start to finish, he's a phantom; we don't even know what he did to rack up all those frequent flyer miles.  I want to root for him but I can't because I don't even remember his name.  He is about as active a participant here as a pillow.  And how do you hiss the villain when there is no hero to cheer for?

Villain: without a hero to joist with her, the villain is reduced to a caricature.  We are looking at a robot programmed to destroy this marriage, and she sets about it with great single mindedness-- and with no pushback.  This is the fatal flaw.  As one of my mentors, the late Robert Towne of Chinatown fame puts it so well at the beginning of MI2, every hero needs a villain.  Without Medusa, there is no Bellerophon.  Well, conversely, without Bellerophon there is no Medusa.  Abigail offers zero possibility of internal conflict, and the husband offers no possibility of external conflict, so two of your characters die on the vine.

Pawn: because you hint at her hidden doubts about her actions, and because she is the only independent actor of the three, the wife is the pivotal character.  She alone offers the possibility of internal conflict projected into real life.  But you tell us nothing about a character that med schools work very hard to detect and run out of town because they are acutely aware of the damage that these personalities can do.  You never explain how an intelligent, well educated professional woman could possibly defend her actions beyond sheer spite.  What in her life history would allow us to go "oh, sure, that explains it.  That's why she thinks that torturing her husband is an act of love."

Granted, one of the flaws of this contest is the late date at which the requirements are set out, but you now have the opportunity to review the text, and revise it.  If you were doing this for publication, and it passed across your editor's desk, this is what would happen next.  The next draft.  I would love to see another draft because I think that you have the ability to turn this into a high quality piece of work.  It is not, and I want to emphasize this, it is not the ending that has to be changed.  It is how you got there.    

[justforfun]

Hi @Babypants, I really appreciate that you've read and commented on this. 

[edited to remove drunken screed]

 

Anyway, thank you all for listening to my rant.  Try a proper Dark and Stormy.  I think I will see if the next one is still as good.

I'm done.  Here are the additional endings.  Do with them as you wish.

Epilogue B - A Redemption

Six weeks later, Abby returned.  Life had changed.  Jenn and I were on the nursing couch when I heard the door open and Jenn gave a “Shh….” to the new arrival.

 

“Hu isch ut?”  I tried to ask around Jenn’s nipple.  My view was obstructed by the light blanket she had placed over my head to keep me from trying to see her phone as she browsed during my feeding.  Her breasts were much larger now, engorged with milk that was now a substantial part of my diet.  I went back to the wave rhythm with my tongue and I felt her give a little quiver, and her milk came strongly into my mouth.

 

“Hi, Abby.  C’mon in.  We’re feeding,” Jenn said a little breathlessly as the mini-orgasm of the let-down flowed through her.

 

“I can see that.  Wow, your boobs look even bigger in real life than in the pictures you sent.  Nice!”

 

 “Yeah, I guess that this is one good thing that came out of this.”

 

“What do you mean?” Abby asked.  “Things aren’t good?”

 

“Well, this has been harder than I thought.  I shouldn’t have let you convince me to do this.  Why did you do it?”

 

“Oh c’mon, Jenn.  He deserves it.  He’s such a pathetic little baby.  As a doctor, I help people all day, and this is just another kind of help.  He needed this.  You needed him to need you.”

 

“Well, you put those balls in his feet, right?  So now I have to carry him.”

 

“Of course I put the balls in his feet, otherwise he’d be able to run away.  This way he’s harmless.”

 

“And you were the one who wanted to make him incontinent.”  Jenn’s voice was quiet, regretful.

 

“Well, yeah, I mean, he’s a baby.  Babies use their diapers.  Hence, roto-rooter!  You’re not having second thoughts are you?”  Abby was the voice of confidence.

 

“How did you know what you were doing?  I mean, that operation isn’t exactly a normal operation.”

 

“Well, in our training we spend a lot of time learning what to avoid when we’re working to remove a problem with the prostate, or bladder.  I just did the opposite.  If there was a line in a textbook or journal that said, ‘be careful as incontinence may result’, I did it.”

 

“But was that safe?”

 

Abby must have shrugged.  “He’s fine, right.”

 

“It wasn’t right.  You were wrong.”

 

“Whatever,” Abby retorted disdainfully.  “Blame it on me.  Get over it.  It’s done, and I did such a good job that he’ll be like that forever.”

 

Jenn pulled back the blanket over my head, the signal that we were done.  “Let’s get his diaper changed, she said, as she helped me up.”

 

Abby’s face changed when I stood up.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Why… are you standing?”

 

“It’s over, Abby, I said.   You can come in now.”

 

Confusion crossed Abby’s face as the door opened and two police officers entered.  One was holding handcuffs ready, and swiftly advanced towards Abby.  Abby’s eyes went wide and she shuffled back.  “Jenn, what the hell!  What’s going on?”

 

“I’m sorry Abby, but what you did was wrong.  When Kristin realized that he wasn’t here consensually she helped me see just how wrong it was.  I had been too involved in what was going on… I had forgotten what ‘right’ was.  Together, we went to the authorities and, well, they thought hearing it in your own words would help.  Especially because I was complicit in this.”  Jenn turned to me. “Luckily we’ve at least managed to have a competent doctor fix his feet, but you’re right.  He’ll be incontinent for the rest of his life.  At least all those legal papers were meaningless.  The lawyer’s comment was that it looked like an idiot had written them as a fantasy.”

 

The officer had reached Abby and gotten her hands secured behind her.  “You BITCH!” Abby started to yell.  “YOU did this to ME!  I tried to help you and now YOU’RE going to ruin MY life???”  Abby struggled futility as the officers dragged her from the room.  

 

I looked at Jenn.  She really had just put her sister in jail.  She looked at me, tears in her eyes.  “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Greg.  I’m so sorry.”  She hugged me.  

 

I looked up at her.  “I know Jenn, I know.  Remember what the therapist said.  We’ll own this on our terms, not hers.  Together.  I love you so much.”  We stood there, embracing, for what felt like forever.

 

“Jenn?  Love?”  I said quietly.

 

“Yes, babe?”

 

“My, uh, diaper is leaking and, well, I’m still hungry.”

 

She sniffled, and laughed a little.  “Yeah, let’s get you cleaned up.” We started walking to the changing table. “Do you want real food?  I can pump if you do.  I would certainly understand wanting adult food.”

 

I knew what I wanted, and I knew what she wanted, but I thought about it.  I wanted to make sure I was right.  I climbed on the changing table, and she started wiping me up.  “You know, I think I’d really like to nurse.  And a glass of wine after.”

 

She smiled and kissed my lips.  “As you wish.”

 

Epilogue III.  The Dark One

Six weeks later, Abby returned.  Life had changed.  Jenn and I were on the nursing couch when I heard the door open and Jenn gave a “Shh….” to the new arrival.

 

“Hu isch ut?”  I tried to ask around Jenn’s nipple.  My view was obstructed by the light blanket she had placed over my head to keep me from trying to see her phone as she browsed during my feeding.  Her breasts were much larger now, engorged with milk that was now a substantial part of my diet.  I went back to the wave rhythm with my tongue and I felt her give a little quiver, and her milk came strongly into my mouth.

 

“Hi, Abby.  C’mon in.  We’re feeding,” Jenn said a little breathlessly as the mini-orgasm of the let-down flowed through her.

 

“I can see that.  Wow, your boobs look even bigger in real life than in the pictures you sent.  Nice!”

 

I heard Abby step closer, and I made my move.  I flipped the blanket up over Jenn’s head, rolled off the couch, and bull-rushed Abby. Caught completely by surprise, I drove her back and she stumbled on the soft floor.  There was a loud “WHACK” from her head hitting the corner of the door as she fell into the playpen, and I quickly popped up and closed the door behind me.

 

Turning to Jenn, who was just getting the blanket off her head, I had fire in my eyes, the adrenaline still surging.  “GET IN THE CRIB,” I yelled, “NOW!”

 

Jenn sat there, her eyes wide.  “What the…”

 

“NOW!” I yelled, walking to her.  She was quite a bit taller than I was, but the sight of me walking, fuming, towards her as she sat must have been an imposing sight.  She slowly got up, moving slowly towards the crib.  

 

“GET. IN.”

 

Her voice was shaky, scared.  “C’mon Greg, let’s talk about this.  This wasn’t my fault.”  

 

“BULLSHIT it wasn’t your fault.  The crazy bitch did this to me six weeks ago.  I’ve been digging those fucking balls out of my feet with tweezers and all you did to help change my diaper.  Do you know how much it fucking hurts to dig into your foot with tweezers?  And you didn’t even notice?  You are as guilty as she is because you didn’t stop her and you didn’t help fix it.  Now GET IN THE CRIB.”

 

There was a whimper behind me, and I turned just long enough to see Abby, now laying in a pool of blood, try to move her fingers.  I turned back.  “Your sister needs medical care.  You can get in the crib and I’ll call 911 and get her help, or you can watch her bleed to death.  Your choice.”

 

She looked, and then slowly climbed into the crib.  She flinched as I slammed the barred door shut.  

 

True to my word I took Jenn’s cell phone and dialed the emergency number, and only a few minutes later Abby was getting wheeled out on a stretcher.  Some time after that, there were a LOT more people in the house, Jenn was in handcuffs, and I had told my side of the story many, many times to many people, each as incredulous as the last.

 

I was exhausted.  Finally, only one person was left, a woman detective investigating domestic violence claims.  “I’ve never seen, or even heard of anything like this,” she had said, shaking her head.  “You’ll need to get a lawyer, of course, but I expect that any legal documents you may have signed would be invalid, and if there was any question there’s no way any judge wouldn’t immediately invalidate everything that your wife tried to do to you.”  

 

That was one of my biggest questions… what had happened to my money, and how could I survive or even buy groceries tomorrow?

 

“In the meantime,” she continued, “Is there anyone that you can call for support?  Anyone you trust?”  

 

I thought about it.  I really didn’t want the few friends I had to see me like this.  I had no brothers or sisters, and my parents had passed.  Who could I call?  A name came to mind.

 

It took some time to figure out her phone number, but Kristin agreed to come over, and the detective and I explained what had happened.  Kristin was horrified, especially when she realized that she had unwittingly helped to construct this room.  

 

“So, after all that, I need some help,” I explained.  I have no friends, no family, I don’t have any money, or a car, or anything, until I can get that all fixed.  You were the only one I could think of reaching out to.”

 

“I mean, sure, of course I’ll help,” Kristin replied, “I’ll do whatever I can.  I’ll start by ordering some pizza.  Pepperoni OK?”  

 

The thought of real food, rather than a shake or breast milk as I had been subsisting on for six weeks, sounded amazing, and I quickly agreed.  Soon, the pizza was on it’s way.

 

“Everything OK here for now?”  the detective asked.  Kristin and I both agreed.  “I’ll check in tomorrow,” the detective said, glancing at Kristin.

 

As the front door closed, Kristin looked at me, and then at my crotch.  “I suppose the fact that you knew I changed diapers had nothing to do with the call.”

 

I smiled a wry smile.  “Well… I’ve never actually changed my diaper.  And…”

 

Kristin laughed. “No problem.  Let’s get you changed and things will be all better.”

 

Soon, with a dry diaper and a pizza in front of me on the table, I was able to feel a little more human.  A little more adult.  I carried on the first conversation I had had with someone other than Jenn in six weeks, and it felt good.  It would take time for me to recover, but for the first time in weeks I thought that things were getting better.  

 

(Well, my stomach wasn’t better with the spicy pepperoni after six weeks of bland liquid food, but that was predictable!)

 

 

--Eh, the forum decided to merge them all.  Whatever. 

[mushy bottom]

Not bad as S/M.  Dump the wife, and sis and hubbie make a cute couple.  Don't see this as forced since he doesn't fight back.