by Shire, Devon
“There. Now that I know you’ll be nice and safe, I can get your things ready.”
My things. He was going to wash my pants, I thought. The idea made sense at the time, but then he came back. “Oh, I forgot your panties. How silly of me.” He didn’t sound silly. If anything, he sounded more predatory, like a hunter who found easy prey. The conflicting ideas sent my heart into overdrive.
Rolling onto my back, I saw him come back to the bed. He seemed to move in slow motion. Again, it must have been whatever made me feel so unsteady, whatever made me drop my drink.
He inserted his fingers beneath the elastic of my bright blue panties. Realizing he saw them and smirked down at me, obviously amused, I blushed even brighter. The heat spread across my skin in pattered waves as my heart kept pounding. Guys never saw me like this. Before graduating, I only had one boyfriend, and we only had sex a couple times. The idea of this man, Trevor, getting to see me naked made me yank as hard as I could on the cord.
I wanted to snap it.
I wanted to hear the vinyl material stretch and snap.
I wanted to watch his expression jump from condescending to frightened.
Nothing happened. The cord stretched but kept my arm in place. Stuck there on my back, I tried to whack him with my hand. I swiped at him, hoping to slap him, but I kept missing. My hand eye coordination really had been reduced to a toddler’s. Maybe younger.
I moved like I hadn’t learned how to manage my own body yet.
Taking full advantage of my disorientation, Trevor yanked once and brought my panties down my legs, past my knees, and beyond my heels. Using my free hand, I tried to grab at the edge of my blouse and cover as much as I could.
It wasn’t much.
“Silly girl. Are you embarrassed? You shouldn’t be. Baby girls don’t have to worry about modesty,” he said, sounding very much like a preschool teacher. I seethed, glaring back and fighting again to get my blouse to stretch but it barely covered half of my pubic hair.
“No,” I mumbled again, struggling to make real words.
“Don’t worry. The drugs will wear off and you’ll get to talk again. But by then, we’ll have you dressed more appropriately.”
Drugs! The orange juice! The pieces slammed into place. Trevor watched my expressions shift from confusion and back to outrage. I wanted to threaten to sue him. I wanted to tell him his life would be ruined over this. Those and a hundred other perfectly articulate images flashed through my head, but when I tried to voice any of them, they sounded more like pathetic mewling.
Knowing he drugged me only added to my frantic struggles.
“Do you need to calm down, little girl?” Trevor asked me. In spite of my raging psyche, he smiled down helpfully. “Are you going to be fussy?”
Fussy? Who talked like that? Parents, I realized. Babysitters. The last thought burned especially bright as I thought of why I had come back home. Mia needed a babysitter, only now this guy had the gall to speak to me as though I were so much younger when in reality it was only three or four years.
“Here, let me help you calm down,” he said. With one hand, he pinned my free wrist. As my legs kicked against the air, he slipped his other hand between my legs. “A nice little treat should help you get nice and sleepy. Isn’t that right? Yes, it is. It is right because you’re just a sweet baby girl at heart.”
“No,” I answered back pathetically. “No, I’m a big girl.” My words lost their power right as I realized what he was about to do.
Trevor’s fingers made their way down to my pelvis. He stroked me, petting me almost soothingly. For a second, I thought he simply wanted to pet me into submission. Considering my already malleable state, he might have succeeded.
No, he had something else in mind.
Trevor’s fingers shifted lower, down between her legs. As she kicked up, I had spread my legs, which gave him the perfect opening. With his eyes on me, he stroked my vaginal lips.
The sensations cut through the fuzz and made me throw out a loud yelp. My whole body tensed up. It seemed like everything clenched as humiliation and pleasure pumped through me. Panting, I opened my mouth to say something else, to protest or demand he stop, but the time it took to formulate a response was too long.
Eyes on me still, Trevor stroked me again. He ran his fingers up and down the length of my slit. Breathing hard now, heart ramming against my rib cage, I bit down to keep from crying out again. In my head, I got the idea that I wouldn’t let him see how this affected me.
It was a dumb idea.
For one, he felt me get wet. To my eternal shame and embarrassment, the heat excited me, and I was damp by the second stroke. His touch was firm and light in the same motion. It didn’t seem possible. It was like he teased me with a delicious paradox. Part of me longed to slap his hand away, but I never managed to summon the will necessary.
Second, I started to writhe to his touch. When he dipped his fingers into me, my eyes widened to the size of quarters. I tensed up even more as he worked his fingers deeper into me. Those two digits discovered my clitoris, and he started to stroke and tease me. My breath turned to ragged little puffs as he tormented me to a delicious motion.
I felt his fingertips in pulsed movements. On, on, off, on, on, off, over and over again until passion and desire and pleasure swirled through my entire body. It was like every nerve ending I possessed had been lit. No one ever touched me like this. Every protest dissipated in my throat, unspoken.
Heck, I couldn’t talk at all, not anymore, not when he played me like a stupid instrument. It was like he knew all of my buttons although this was our first meeting.
The desire gained momentum, pounding through my blood to the same intense rhythm as my heart. It was like I had just become those two sequences: the percussion of my heart and the pulse of his fingertips.
“Do you want to come?” he asked.
My lips quivered through some unintelligible response. Even in the throes of intoxicated arousal, I managed to nod quickly. That must have been good enough because he sped up, pressing harder, working me over until the orgasm snapped into place. It felt like an explosion, like I heard one click somewhere far away before my world turned to deluge of pleasure.
It came over me like an avalanche, like the fabric of reality changed and enveloped me in heat and a perfectly warm glow at the same time.
In time, the pleasure faded and I tried to keep my eyes open, but the desire had been replaced by an intense fatigue. It was all I could do to pry my eyelids up and try to speak again.
“Silly girl. Babies don’t know how to talk yet. But maybe if you try really hard, you’ll be able to get something out tomorrow,” Trevor said to me as he cleaned his fingers off on a tissue. “But for now, I’m going to get you ready for bed.”
Bed? Somewhere far away in my head, I thought it wasn’t even noon yet.
“That’s right,” he said with the same patronizing nod. “Little girls need to nap. Otherwise they get all cranky and naughty.” Wrinkling his brow, he put on a faux glower, like something Oscar the Grouch might have worn.
Trevor moved out of my line of sight. I heard a drawer open, then close. I wanted to be interested. I knew this would be relevant to me, only I couldn’t make myself contrite. All the desire and focus in the world couldn’t command my body if it absolutely refused to obey me. And right then, it seemed more interested in following Trevor’s lead. It was like my physical form had become warmly submissive to my sister’s boyfriend.
He came back holding something. When I first glimpsed the item, I thought it was impossible. No, there was no way I was seeing it right. My vision had been distorted ever since I sipped that stupid orange juice. This had to be another symptom.
Because it looked like he was holding a pink diaper. Worse, it looked like it had been sized for an adult. It looked like it might fit me…
Panic set and I started to struggle, kicking the bed and the air and yanking on the cord that kept me there. With my free arm, I tried to wave him away, and the whole time, I couldn’t get my eyes off the diaper.
Bright pink, it had a pattern of stars along the front that curved all the way back to the butt. The inner thighs were lined with big ruffles. It seemed perfectly smooth, and when Trevor got closer, I caught the babyish scent. It would have been adorable on a little girl, but he wanted that on me.
“Silly girl. I can’t let you nap without a diaper. You might get yourself all wet again,” he said confidently. If I had been more coherent, I might have pointed out how I didn’t pee myself. I spilled something, a drink he drugged. But nothing like that came out. Instead, I shrieked one word.
“No!” I sounded like some snotty two-year-old and I could hardly believe I was the one who did it. Seriously, I had come here to scare this guy off, and less than an hour later, I was strapped to this bed as he approached with a diaper.
But he didn’t just put it on me. No, he took his time. He ran the diaper along the line of my legs. He made sure I felt its smooth outer surface. Trevor used it to tease me as I squirmed and kept mumbling how I didn’t want to be diapered. I didn’t want to be a baby!
Satisfied with my humiliation, Trevor unfolded the diaper. “Lift your legs,” he ordered. The mocking tone had vanished, replaced by the commanding authority of someone used to being in charge.
“No!”
“Do I need to spank you?” he asked.
“No spanking!” I longed to say something more articulate. Even then, I felt the fatigue press down on me. His expression softened and he touched his palm to my leg. He started to stroke me lightly. His fingertips left a sparking fizz of energy dancing at my nerve endings.
Only seconds before, I managed to sound almost fierce. Now his gentle petting started to relax me and the tiredness rammed down on me, full bore. My heart beat a soft, constant rhythm now. Every second seemed to make my body heavier. I tried to flex my fingers. I managed to lift my pinky.
“Shush, just relax. Relax, sweet girl. Just relax.” His calming voice should have pissed me off. On some level it did, but that part of me was shrinking, drifting down into relaxed sleep.
After a few minutes of stroking me, Trevor lifted my legs. I let him guide me, too exhausted now to really fight. I couldn’t tell if this weakness came from the drugs or the orgasm or his petting. It didn’t really matter because he lifted my legs and spread them a few inches apart.
He slipped the diaper beneath me, then lowered my butt down onto the gauze padding. The sensation rubbed me the wrong way, and for an instant, I managed to come back to semi-consciousness. I wiggled and writhed a bit. I even found the energy to tug on the cord again, but it didn’t budge.
“Silly girl. Fighting so, so hard,” he said, more to himself than to me. “It’s really not necessary. You can just let yourself go and you’ll wake up feeling refreshed and happy and we can start to play. Wouldn’t you like that?”
I tried to say no. I tried to tell him to release me at once. Nothing made it past my lips.
He pulled the diaper up to my pelvis. I wiggled my legs together and felt the thick padding and plastic crinkle. Knowing this covered my most adult body part made me bristle again, but the fatigue quickly washed away any semblance of rage. Trevor attached the taped tabs, effectively securing me in the diaper.
It didn’t matter, I consoled myself, not when I could just tear them off. These drugs couldn’t last forever, and then he would get it. He would suffer my wrath. Stripped, strapped down, and diapered, that idea would have made him laugh.
He left me alone and I was almost asleep. He came back, and I got my eyes open to tiny slits. I saw him holding something else. It looked like a plastic set of panties, but I didn’t understand when he already had me in a diaper. What was the point of another layer?
Trevor stretched the plastic panties and pulled them over my feet. “Up with your bottom,” he told me. In spite of myself, I obeyed. I didn’t know why I did it. I still don’t. I can only chalk it up to whatever drugs he used on me.
The plastic cover slipped over my shins, knees, and up to my crotch. He pulled it tight over the diaper. Once it got closer, I spotted something else. There were a set of cords around the leg and waist holes. They looked like plastic or rubber bands.
Once the cover was firmly in place, Trevor explained, “Sometimes little girls get curious. They want to feel what it’s like to get out of their diapers and then they make really bad messes for the grownups to clean. But that’s not fair, is it?” As usual, he answered his own question, “No. It’s not fair at all. No, it’s not.” I hated having this handsome man talk to me as though I was a simple child, but I couldn’t do anything to stop him.
I quickly learned what the bands were form. Trevor pulled them, tightening the waist band first. Then he secured it with a locking buckle. I heard it click into place. He pulled away a key, and I realized what he had planned for me. Before, I consoled myself with the prospect of simply slipping out of my diaper. I was an adult after all. A few strips of tape couldn’t really keep me in this infantile prison.
The lock changed everything.
I tried to thrash and buck against him. I wanted to kick him in the face or do anything to get out of his reach. None of it worked. For all of my tremendous exertions, my drained body only wiggled a bit. He smirked down at me, obviously able to guess how badly I didn’t want to be locked into the diaper.
Once he locked the waist band, Trevor went to work on the legs. Within a minute, he had two more locks set into place. Without the key he stowed in his pocket, I had zero chance of getting this thing off.
“There we go,” he said and gave my crotch a little pat. “There’s a good girl. All cute and diapered. You are going to be such a good girl, and we are going to have such a good time. Yes, we are!” He sounded so cheerful and positive, but I could tell he was mocking me. The corners of his eyes crinkled with nothing but patronizing disdain for me.
Right then, I felt it too. I showed up here to put him in his place only to find myself on this bed.
But it wasn’t a bed.
Trevor stroked my forehead again. He ran his hand down my bangs to the ridge of my nose and back again. I fought to stay awake, to remain conscious and aware of my surroundings, but his light ministrations made it more and more difficult. The weight of my body pulled me down, down, down, closer to sleep and lethargy by the second.
“Shush,” he told me whenever I tried to speak. He wouldn’t let me get a word out before I heard the same comforting remark. “Shush, baby girl.” His half-whispered response lulled me deeper into a state of relaxation.
My eyes closed, but I wasn’t asleep yet.
Trevor must have thought I was though because he stepped away. I got my eyes open, just fractionally. From the other side of the room, he retrieved a set of five grates. They were thick, big, and looked fairly heavy. Their edges were smooth and reminded me of the tough, industrial plastic little kids’ toys are made with.
After several seconds of trying to lift my head, I eventually had to give up and simply lie there. I almost never slept on my back, but for once this position actually felt pretty comfortable. It didn’t occur to me that I was about to fall asleep like an infant who hadn’t yet mastered the skill of rolling onto her side or stomach.
Ignoring my furtive struggles, Trevor brought the plastic gates over to the bed. He lowered one into a set of holes. The grate clicked into place and stood up like a fence. He took another gate and lifted it over me, connecting it into another set of openings. He repeated this process twice more until I was surrounded by heavy, plastic bars.
In spite of my lethargy, my breath caught in my throat. Oh my God, I thought. He was caging me in.
No, not a cage, I realized as I tried to bring my legs together. It wa
s a crib. Boxed in on four sides, I watched in horror as he brought the final piece up and lowered it down onto the top. One more set of clicks trapped me in a crib with a locking top.
“Sleep tight, baby girl.”
It didn’t matter how hard I fought. Before he left the room, my eyelids drooped down and sleep claimed me in another layer of bondage.
Waking up, I opened my eyes to meet a wave of disorientation. At first, I thought it had all been some bizarre dream like I only had to roll over and I would find myself in my bed or on the couch. Perhaps I fell asleep during a movie. That would have explained the ache in my arms and legs.
Before I really oriented myself, I rolled onto my side and felt the bulk between my legs. I assumed it had to be my blankets or a pillow. Some linens got caught between my thighs, no big deal.
But then my back hit something when I tried to roll over again to check the clock. It was heavy. It didn’t give. It wasn’t cold like metal. Shutting my eyes again to block out the mild dizziness, I reached out and felt something plastic and cool to the touch.
I ran my hand up and down: bars.
Bars!
It all came back in a burst of memory. I couldn’t believe it. Those images had to be wrong. It was a dream or a nightmare or something. C’mon, it just didn’t seem possible. There had to be a mistake. I must have hit my head or something, but when I finally got my eyes open and stared ahead, I saw them.
Bars.
They stood before me, completely undeniable. Swallowing, I worked to get a hold of myself. I couldn’t panic. I couldn’t freak out. So long as I remained calm and rational, then I could figure this out. I mean, there was no way Trevor really locked me into a cage.
No, I remembered this was a crib. Something else came to mind, but I shoved that detail aside. It was too terrible to imagine.
Forcing myself to calm down, I inhaled and exhaled. I pretended this was an exam, and although I had already finished college just a few days before, I could pretend this was another high stakes test. As my body started to settle down, I sat up. The top of the crib was too low, so standing was out of the question, but my hands were mostly free.