by Shire, Devon
My fingers coiled into fists again.
“Oh, are you getting grumpy again?”
“No,” I snapped.
“I think you might be.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m feeling!” I hissed and tried to slap him. I could have struck his butt or connected to his chest, but the chain went taut and kept me in my place.
“I’ll tell you whatever I want, Baby Claire.”
Realizing I couldn’t win this argument, I clamped my teeth shut. Locking my jaw, I glowered but stared ahead. I wouldn’t even bother making eye contact with him. My passive aggressive strategy only did a little bit, and it meant I couldn’t see him gather up supplies. I heard the cupboards open and close.
With a turn of the handle, the tub’s spigot shot a constant blast of water. I shuddered at first, thinking it would come out cold. No, it was pleasantly warm, and I wondered how much Trevor had to pay for this small luxury.
Trevor set his instruments down beside the tub. After picking up a bottle, he pooled some blue gel in his palms, rubbed them together, and made a thick lather. As he worked, Trevor explained, “This is a very special compound. I’m thinking about marketing it at some point, though I wonder if I could get more money by just taking payments from certain hygiene companies. They could bribe me into keeping this formula to myself.”
“You’re a jerk,” I said.
“Oh yeah,” he said, his eyes lit with excitement.
Trevor reached into the water. I traced his direction, hoping he would just rub my tummy or legs. No, he went straight for the spot between my legs. “What, what does it do?” I stammered, hating the note of fear in my voice.
Rather than give me a straightforward response, Trevor grinned again and asked, “Tell me, do baby girls have big girl hair down there?” He talked with those annoyingly trite euphemisms.
“No,” I mumbled. A spark of hope lit me up and compelled me to raise my eyes and meet Trevor’s gaze, “But I have big girl hair, so I’m an adult! There, you can see. I’m not a baby.”
“Not for long,” he said, and his hands dove beneath the rising level of water. He started to rub the gel into my skin, right above my slit. With each pass, his palms spread the stuff around my skin, and I felt the hair start to dissipate. “This is a great material. Once used, it’ll permanently remove your hair. From now on, you’ll look just like a little girl down there.”
“Please, stop,” I whimpered as he removed another symbol of my adulthood.
“I don’t think so,” he said and rubbed the last of the gel into my skin. Within seconds, the last strands of my big girl hair dissipated. I watched and looked down at the pinkish skin. I had to admit it. I really did look much younger down at the juncture of my thighs.
“Lift your arms,” he ordered and gathered up some more of the hair removal chemical.
He applied it to my underarms, again stripping me of another sign of adulthood. Once he finished, he rinsed me off. Moving on, Trevor cleaned off my legs. From then on, I wouldn’t look like an adult. Sure, the idea of never shaving my legs again seemed like a blessing, but the cost was too high. He made me look like a child. If anyone saw me naked, they’d first think of some prepubescent.
Too stunned at the prospect, I couldn’t struggle as he started to wash me down. He switched from the gel to a liquid soap. Washing my thoroughly, he started with my face and worked his way down to my neck. Trevor scrubbed my back, then worked his way around to my breasts. His hands crossed my breasts. Between his firm touch, the suds, and the warm water, my nipples hardened and I felt the excitement build at my core too.
Forgetting about the chains and shackles, I tried to slap his hands away, but he kept washing me. He took his time. A minute for my chest, another minute for my thighs and shins. He got down to my feet which made me giggle. I hoped he didn’t notice. Things could get a lot worse if he realized how sensitive my skin could be. Just a few simple grazes could make me laugh uncontrollably.
If he spotted my vulnerability, Trevor didn’t comment on it. He focused on cleaning me and saved my naughty bits for last.
“Are you still all wet and excited down there?”
“No,” I lied, eager to keep my expression straight and unreadable.
“Really?” he asked, sliding a soapy finger down into my slit again. “Then it won’t matter if I tease you again? It won’t have any effect on you at all, will it?” He challenged me and dared me to contradict him.
His digit worked deeper inside of me, spreading my lips and opening me up to the deluge of warm water. My lips opened a quarter inch as I gasped for air. Trying to block out the heat and excitement took a lot of effort. I failed as he teased me, working his finger back and forth, left to right, teasing me in ways I had never dared explore.
Despite the droplets running down my forehead, neck, and shoulders, a new heat darted across my skin, spreading like a storm. I bit at my lower lip and tried to think of something else, anything else. If only I could distract myself, then maybe I could keep from coming again. Resisting the orgasm took everything I had.
Only it turned out that everything I had wasn’t enough. Not even close.
The pleasure came in ripples at first. But those first tendrils working through my nervous system were just harbingers of something so much bigger and stronger. I clung to the hope that I could keep it from happening, but then the orgasm crashed down on me like a tsunami.
I whimpered until a cry was torn from my throat. The explosion of pleasure threw waves of delight through me, and I couldn’t even care about how it came to me. It didn’t matter that he diapered me or forced me to take a bath like a baby girl.
The rolling shivers of pleasure slowed, then dissipated altogether. I worked to catch my breath and slow the pounding of my heart. It only took a few seconds, but it felt much longer, especially with him watching me.
“There,” he announced proudly, “now you’re all clean. Doesn’t that feel better?”
“Yes,” I said, hoping a quick answer might spare me some additional humiliation.
Just as chipper as ever, Trevor brought me out of the tub and positioned me in the middle of the bathroom again. Naked and dripping, I was grateful for the hot air swirling through the enclosed space. My skin prickled at the thought of walking back through the house in this state.
“Arms up,” he ordered again.
I obeyed as he grabbed a towel. Big and fluffy, it was a bright shade of rose-petal pink and had imprinted hearts along one side. “Little girls are cute and deserve to have cute things.” This time, I didn’t rise to his challenge. I didn’t tell him I wasn’t a little girl.
Standing there quietly with my arms up, I endured his petting and teasing strokes as he ran the towel along my body. Trevor made sure to be very, very thorough. I hadn’t felt this clean or dry in a long time.
Taking my hand, he led me back through the house. Before, I had been diapered and wearing just my blouse. Now I had nothing at all. I peeked at the windows and was grateful that his house was basically in the middle of nowhere.
I hoped we were headed for the bedroom, even if it meant getting put back in another diaper. He disappointed again and took me right back to the nursery. I breathed a sigh of relief, silent and furtive until he nudged me back inside. At least this way I wouldn’t have to be diapered again, except I forgot something.
The changing table.
My eyes locked onto it the second I reentered the nursery. The babyish scent of powder, soap, and lotion filled my nose.
As though he could read my thoughts and my worries, Trevor put his hand on my shoulder, “Get on the changing table like a good little girl.” It had straps. He was going to strap me down, diaper me, and dress me up like a little girl. Or worse.
My patient snapped. Yanking myself out of Trevor’s reach, I twisted around and crossed my arms over my chest. “N
o. Not again! You had me in a diaper once, and it’s not going to happen again. You understand me?” I almost barred my teeth like some sort of animal.
He wasn’t going to get me on that platform.
“Do you need a spanking?” he asked breezily. He was patronizing me again, teasing and mocking me all in the same question. He wasn’t about to listen to me. While I had been so good at maintaining my sense of self-control and discipline, that all broke. I snapped and tried to dart from the room.
I took three steps and got my fingers on the door knob when I felt his arms loop around my waist. He picked me up, lifting me off the ground. My heels spun against the air, and I managed to connect to the wall. Throwing all my strength into my muscles, I almost knocked him over, but Trevor stayed on his feet and carried me back to the table.
My back touched the surface. Right away, I heard the outer plastic layer crinkle. The plastic lurked just beneath the bright pink sheets. He expected there to be a mess on this table. The thought only sped my frenzy and made it impossible to think straight.
He grabbed my wrist and forced it above my head. With another motion, he looped the Velcro restraint into place. It was better than the metal shackles he used during bath time but not by much. With my free arm, I beat down against Trevor’s shoulder and back, but he shrugged off those blows as if I were some rabid kitty out to lick him into submission.
Even as I bucked and struggled, I had to recognize one simple fact. He drugged me again, weakening me into near helplessness.
The restraint tightened, and my right wrist became stuck, trapped over my head, lifting my breasts and making them jiggle pathetically each time I yanked or tugged. He grabbed my other hand and pulled it over my head as well. I worked to wiggle my hand free from his grasp, but his grip stayed firm until my wrist came down and crinkled the plastic cover. He took up the second strap and secured it.
Velcro. My face blistered with shame an impotent frustration. It was just Velcro. As a little girl, Velcro straps kept my shoes on my feet. There weren’t any locks or sophisticated cages now. He kept me down with so little effort. One pull along the tab would have freed me, but he left me trapped.
I growled and snarled, but Trevor simply stood over me. With my feet still free, I kicked up and down and threw my body from side to side, not that those struggles accomplished anything at all.
Trevor took a step back from the changing table and watched me. With his arms lazily crossed, he smirked down at me as I gave my struggles everything I had. I worked to free my wrists, even thinking clearly enough to hope that I could slip free. My body grew hot and clusters of sweat covered my body.
Finally, my energy reserves gave out. It took minutes, but I didn’t have anything left. Drained and exhausted, I couldn’t get out of the straps. As my chest rose and fell, I turned my head and glared at him.
“Oh?” Trevor asked innocently. “Are you done?”
My eyes narrowed, but I didn’t speak. Anything I said would just be used against me, and I didn’t want to give him another opportunity to tease or humiliate me. It was already so easy.
Trevor came closer and smiled down at me. He touched his fingers to my neck and lowered them down to the space between my breasts. He started to circle, tracing his fingertips around the mounds of my chest. “You are going to be a good girl,” he explained. “Before we’re done here, you’re going to thank me for diapering you and feeding you from a bottle. You’ll be such a good toddler. And if you can’t handle that, I’ll make you crawl because really, you don’t know what’s best for you. No, you don’t. That’s because you’re just a little, tiny baby. Deep down, you know this, and in time, you’ll admit it.”
“Never,” I hissed back at him.
As my defiant remark dangled between us, unanswered, Trevor looped the two restraints over my ankles. He secured them with new Velcro straps, and I was trapped completely. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to torment myself further or if I just hoped for better information, but I pulled on the straps.
The ankle restraints held me just as well as those on my wrists. Now I couldn’t move more than a few inches. He had me trapped in this position. I couldn’t get free, not without his help.
Ignoring me, went walked back to one of the dressers, fished through it, and pulled something out. By then, I returned my stare to the ceiling. I didn’t want to look, and I didn’t want to know.
Within a couple heartbeats, my combined fear and curiosity got the better of me. I turned my head just in time to see Trevor return. He had a diaper, a small box of wipes, and a bottle of baby lotion.
I arched my back again, straining against the straps. The nylon strips stretched a tiny bit, but nowhere near enough to do me any good. I didn’t know how he had them secured, but it didn’t matter. In my drugged state, I was too weak. In reality, he probably didn’t need the straps at all. Maybe he wanted them to remind me who was in charge. Maybe he wanted to remove any illusion of independence on my part.
Trevor took out a wipe. Rather than start between my legs, he reached over and cleaned off my fingers, palms, and the back of her hands. He balled up the wipe and tossed it away. He took out a new one and used this one to clean my thighs and then down between my legs. My inner thighs shivered and I felt the quivers run up my spine. The wipe was cold, and the cleaning solution was impossible to ignore.
I raised my head and watched him. He returned my gaze and smiled because he was getting me clean and ready.
“Would you like some lotion?”
“No,” I remarked at once.
“Oh, that’s just because you’re shy. Let me get you taken care of, baby girl.” Trevor made it sound like a choice, as if I got a say in the matter, but I didn’t. He could play with me however he wanted. And that was exactly what he planned to do.
He picked up the bottle and squirted a liberal amount into his palm. He spread it across his skin, then rubbed it down between my legs, over my now smoothly bare pubis, and down along my lips. My stupid body answered his touch. The color danced through the surface of my skin, and I felt myself get wet again. I cursed myself, wishing I could shut down that part of my body.
Trevor smirked down at me. “You like that, don’t you?” He slipped his fingertips along my outer lips again until the heat got close to unbearable. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes,” I whispered, hating myself for it all the same.
“Too bad,” he said, removed his hand, and grabbed the diaper. With just a few inches to move my ankles back and forth, I kicked against the mattress. The blows were weak and pathetic.
Trevor unfolded the diaper and gave the side of my butt a little smack. The message was clear: obey or get punished. I remembered how it felt to get spanked before. The pain seared my nerves and my skin. No, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take another paddling.
Groaning with unsatisfied desire, I lifted my butt and felt him slide the fresh diaper under me. Trevor pulled the front over my bare slit and smoothed out the ruffles. He attached the taped sides, first my left, then my right.
“Okay, baby girl, you can lower your diapered butt again.”
I bit down and refused to speak, but I did let my back relax until the diaper touched the sheets again. The thick bulk felt almost familiar, and yet I resented every second in this stupid thing.
“Do you like your new diaper? Do you feel better, knowing you won’t make a mess?” He sounded so absurdly certain.
“No. I don’t make messes! I wouldn’t make a mess! I’m an adult, Trevor! I’m an adult, and I know how to take care of myself. It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. I don’t need a diaper.”
He grinned, “Not yet.”
“Never,” I spat back.
“So confident, so sure,” he told me. “Do you really think you can keep from using that diaper? Especially after so eagerly drinking your bottle.” The thinly veiled allusion remi
nded me of something. I felt a pressure between my legs. My bladder was full.
“I won’t use this diaper.”
“How about a little bet?”
I gazed back at him, uncertain of how I should respond. A bet meant I might win, but only if he didn’t cheat. Could I trust him? Hope brightened in me as I asked, “What if I win?”
He could tell I was tempted. Although we only met a few short hours before, Trevor seemed to read me easily. The idea bugged me, if only because I wanted to be mysterious, but then he saw me naked. He stripped me of my adult hairs.
“If you win,” he said slowly, “I’ll let you go.”
My heart jumped a beat. He knew I wanted this. He knew I wanted this so badly I could practically taste it.
“And if I lose?” I asked slowly, trying and failing to sound disinterested.
“If you lose, how about you pose for me? We could do a little photo shoot.”
I felt my blood pressure spike at the thought. I could imagine him posing me, putting me down on my knees or flashing my diaper from beneath some absurdly short skirt. The image set my teeth on edge, and yet, what choice did I have?
“How long do I have to hold it?” I couldn’t allow myself to imagine a wet diaper on me.
“Let’s say five minutes.”
“Just five?” That sounded too easy. There had to be a catch.
“Yup,” he said and took out his phone. With a couple swipes and clicks, he brought up a timer. The big numbers glowed white against a red background. He set it to five minutes. “Do you agree?”
There had to be some trick. I understood this completely, and yet I couldn’t think of what he might do. With time, he could have one. I mean, my bladder would make me wet eventually. It would be a simple question of biology, but he thought this could happen in five minutes.
