Baby Training

(Note: This one is a bit different then my others. Rather then have a regular narrative, I instead have a series of settings with the story hopefully coming through. This is because its supposed to be the character remembering what happened to him, and since memories tend to be more general and less detailed I thought it would work. Please let me know if it does.)

(Also, this was meant to go along with an image linked below, with permission from the artist. I couldn’t find any rules about posting links to picture, so if that is an issue, let me know.)

Alex struggled in his binds. Stuck in a diaper and dress, gagged with an oversized pacifier, and with a bright red ribbon wrapped around, he could do nothing but wait. He supposed that was what he was a Christmas present for someone. The only question was for whom.

It was a question that had haunted him since the day he arrived at the training institute. Like everyone, he knew there was someone paying for him. Like most, he had no idea who they were, when he’d see them, or what they intended to use him for.

There were several reasons someone could end up in the institute. A scant few were volunteers- people choosing the submissive lifestyle, often for a kink, or out sheer laziness, giving up freedom to be guaranteed food and shelter rather then work their entire lives and risk homelessness. This, in Alex’s opinion, was a poor trade and a worse excuse for a career. Others seemed to think they eventually be guaranteed a place their anyway, and so volunteered. The advantage there was that they could at least pick the manner of their submissiveness, and have some control over who their eventual master was. Had Alex known that would be necessary for him, he’d have taken that route. He shifted uncomfortably in his binds, his arms getting stiff, and his diaper beginning to chaff his spanked bottom. He definitely would have.

Alex, for himself, was one of the many who had been chosen against their will. Some of them had obvious reasons for going. They had committed clear crimes, were put on trial, and plea-bargained out of jail or were sentenced directly. They stood out at first in the first days at the institute. Trying to look tough, with tattoos on their arms and glares on their faces, until they realized this just made them all the more ridiculous.

Alex was in a final category- those who had no idea at all why he was brought. He had simply went to bed one night after drinking at a bar, blacked out, and woken up already locked and dressed in the institute, with his form of submissiveness and master chosen for him. Many had similar stories, or were dragged from public places kicking and screaming, or got into cabs that went in completely the wrong directions… There was a long list. They were usually given a explanation. Vague allegations of minor crimes, poor behavior, a likeliness of future crimes or failures, internet search histories, having failed some kind of government test- there were plenty. Alex had a mix of these, with the same accusations of brattiness and immaturity that most who ended up in diapers got. They may be true, he knew, but he tended to believe the rumor that the institute simply needed to sell certain number of submissive to operate and did what was necessary to keep going. The government turned a blind eye and the public kept silent less they be chosen- they were fulfilling a needed service, anyway. For Alex, it was hard to argue. They seemed to know everything about him, and his trove of ‘secret’ stories about similar kinks was brought up time and time again as a reason. Whether they knew about them when they grabbed him or coincidently found out after searching was beyond him.

Alex moaned inwardly thinking of it. The struggled slightly, hearing the tissue paper and his diaper rustle, then stopped. He glanced at the paddle beside him. Tauntingly cute looking, but sharp and painful, he had been given a taste of it earlier and threatened with more if he woke anyone up. He was a Christmas present, and just like any other gift supposedly from Santa Clause, he would not be seen until morning. Waking them up would spoil the surprise, and he had been trained to obey.

That training itself had been a nightmare. When he first woke up that day long ago, he had no idea what was happening. He had woken up slowly at first, feeling a slight headach, then bolted up when he noticed he was in a strange room surrounded by bars.

“No” he had thought, “it can’t be…”

IN reality it was obvious- he had long known about the training program, and that the diapered subs were one of options, but like most, he had never thought it would happen to him. When it did, he did everything in his power to deny it to himself.

He had quickly glanced down at himself to see he was dressed in bright pink footed pyjamas and a bulky object he later realized was a diaper. He tried to scream out, only to find his mouth full of something he later realized was a pacifier. He tried to remove it, only to find his hands were wrapped in thick, fingerless mittens, leaving them useless. He looked around himself, and confirmed his suspicions. The bars he had once thought were for a cage were in fact part of a crib, and the room was a giant nursery, decorated cutely, with a changing table, high chair, and toys all clearly intended for him. A pit had begun to form in his stomach.

A woman, not much older then Alex, came in beaming. He still remembered the first words she said. “Hello, how’s my little baby doing?” She spoke in a sweet, familiar voice, as if he truly was a baby girl and there was nothing strange at all with him being there.

The rest of the day had followed suit. He was offered no explanation and given no chance to ask for one. He was carted helplessly from humiliation to humiliation, unable to get out of the arms, baby harnesses and strollers that held him, and unable to speak with the pacifier in his mouth, only leaving it for feedings.

That day he wasn’t even treated as a sub, but simply as a baby. Spankings or other punishments weren’t necessary yet- he was too restrained and bewildered to fight, he was simply there to learn his place. He was fed, talked to in baby gibberish or simply ignored, and changed. THAT was a memory that had stuck with him, not because of the teasing or punishment, but because of the lack there of.

“Do you smell something?” one has said calmly.

“I think the baby has a stinky butt” the other replied with no sign of surprise.

“Check him?”

Alex was bent over, his onesie undone.

“Yep,” then, in the high pitched joking voice used for infants, “has the baby made a stinky? Does she need to get her butt changed? YES SHE HAS! YES SHE DOES!”

The lack of mocking and teasing had made it seem all the worse, as if it was something natural that should be expected. The truth was, as he would learn, it soon would be. As Alex was lain on the floor in a main hallway and changed as the pair in front of him talked on as if nothing was wrong, he had even begun to wonder if he really was a baby, and the last few decades of his life were some bizarre dream. It seemed a better option then being a submissive.

The real training had started the next day.

Alex shifted again, and tried to pull his arms at least a bit loose. This position was far from comfortable, and his back was getting sore. He wondered what it said about his new masters that he was to be found this way. Did they know how uncomfortable it was? Did they want him to be sore? An answer either yes or no could mean a lot.

Of course, the fact that he was chosen as a sissy baby said a lot as it was.

There was something of an unspoken hierarchy at the training institute. It depended a lot person to person, but their were some general rules that could be said depended on the harshness, or embarrassment, related to the job.

At the top were the merely unstated submissives. They were there to serve, with no real, and as long as they behaved were treated well. After that came the ‘animals,’ either work horses intended to pull their masters around or pet kittens and puppies, they were treated well, if condescendingly. Then came the punishment subs, there to take spankings, be degraded, and tied for their masters pleasure.

Underneath them all were the babies. Some could live pretty good lives and be treated well, finding themselves essentially just living to be cuddled and coddled, but that was often not the case. It was hard to feel any sort of pride when all others were baking away from the smell of your diapers. Alex was the lowest from of these. Not just a baby, but a sissy baby and a punishment sub at that. He had become well acquainted with rope and paddles while there, and the diapers and dresses simply added a whole new level of humiliation.

Alex pondered slightly. As most had guessed, if that is what his masters wanted, it did not bode well for him. Whoever was paying want him degraded as much ass possible. Most ended up living essentially as their training had done. Some, however, were lucky. They were punished and trained to a low level then brought to their masters as if being rescued, receiving love and affection, and forming a strange form of bond from the knowledge of what they were being kept from. Others got the exact opposite. Even within the categories, the harshness, strictness and length of training varied. Some masters wanted subs with fight left in them that they could spank out over time. Others would switch their subs theme upon arriving, leaving the poor, bewildered submissive confused and having to go through training again. The ones that Alex pitied the most were, ironically, barely even punished at training. Their masters wanted the opposite idea then the rest received. They were praised, given freedoms, and given rewards to build up a sense of pride that the masters could have fun breaking. They were often even given authority over the other submissives, who were told to keep mum about the poor fools fates. Sometimes they’d come back with their masters later, tears streaming down their faces, their pride shattered, their delusions gone as they were laughed at by the ones they had looked down on. Alex himself had been spanked by a few confused submissives only to later see them crawling around In diapers themselves, now bigger bawling babies then anyone, their pride making the fall all the worse. Somehow they never seemed to learn until it was too late.

Alex groaned at the binds and his stiff muscles. He was beginning to feel hungry again. How long had he been there? He would have thought it was only one night, but there were no windows, and it felt like a lot longer. He prayed his masters were in the kindest category, hoping for him to see them as some kind of saviors, but he craved being untied whether or not they were. It was more likely that he was meant to be the baby he was dressed as anyway. This could still mean different things, as rumors always came back about what the babies got in the outside world. Some were treated merely as that, infants for their ‘parents’ to take care of, nothing more. Some existed for humiliation, spending long nights tied in messy diapers and over laps getting spanked in public. Some were there to work and please their masters, their clothing adding a form of mocking comedy to otherwise adult tasks. Some lived for pleasure, receiving toys and other benefits, others were deliberately denied it, being brought close to it then returned to whine and moan in their diapers. Some lived to train people to take care of real babies, used for diaper changing demonstrations, some were mascots for small sports teams and organizations or public draws to restaurants and game rooms. Others still were even given to younger people, treated as playthings, live in dolls for the amusement of children. Most did not know what it was going to be until they got there. He shuddered at the thought, and prayed it was one of the better ones.

He tried to think of the cruelty of someone who would subject him to it. Could he really blame them though? He had, after all, written all those stories… but those were fiction, not reality… was there a difference? Yet there he was, an adult, diapered, sissified…

The training varied from person to person, but for babies there were some general themes. The life in a nursery, the wearing diapers, and being given toys were all common. Most were fed, and most were taught to use their diapers. Some were deliberately made incontinent, being given pills and hypnosis to render them diaper dependent. Alex avoided this, though you never would tell from watching him. A messy diaper around his waist was a common theme in his life.

Like all babies, he slept in a crib, and was taken care of like a baby in his ‘home.’ This home was the residence while he stayed in the institute. As usual, he was the only baby there. The other themes were represented similarly, there were pets, work animals, slaves, sissies, and other kinds of submissives, but rarely more than one or two of each at a time. There were also groups of non submissives who went in and out of living there like a hostel, and more still that came by and paid to gawk and laugh. They usually paid to see due to their own sadistic kinks or schadenfreude, and the fact that they beleived the people there had earned their punishment made them all the more vicious in their laughing and teasing. This was for a serious, if subtle reason. If the submissive felt rare, and they were constantly faced with a new group of people, it kept the helplessness and embarrassment of their situation fresh. As had been explained to Alex, the reason a sissy male was embarrassed to be in a dress was because men didn’t wear dresses. If Alex had spent his life surrounded by other sissy babies, eventually it wouldn’t seem to be strange at all.

From the ‘homes,’ the submissive would be taken daily to training, this time along with the similarly dressed brethren. As a sissy baby, Alex would join a long and often smelly line of grown adults in diapers, feeling absolutely ridiculous as they were paraded, all holding a rope like children, toward class.

Once there, they were trained as a group, with variations for their individual master’s desires. They would be given kindergarten like classes on basic subjects to reduce them and bring their thinking to that of a babies. Sometimes they’d deliberately be given fake information, being forced to learn math wrong or memorize a made up alphabet. They’d then be tested on it, and have their place hammered home when they failed tests seemingly made for children.

From there it was more kink related training. They’d be taught to be submissive, with a long list of humiliating and painful punishments, from spankings and being tied up, to more childish such as time outs and mouth soaping’s. They were trained to behave as their masters wanted, forced to crawl around, play with children’s toys, and mess their diapers. They were even trained to act up from time to time, practicing throwing tantrums or acting as brats. Some were slowly rendered incontinent, some were given potty training which was deliberately made impossible, then told they were in diapers because they failed, and others were simply ignored until they messed themselves, and at times kept in them until they were used to the feeling. Whatever a master wanted, he could get, and the trainers bet their careers on making it happen.

Alex wasn’t given a chance. There was no effort to untrain or to pretend to train. This, he figured, meant whoever he was going to meet in the morning wanted someone who was able to control their functions, but still used to diapers. Did that mean they intended to some kind of joke potty training routine? Was it meant to be successful, with him finally getting out of the childish undergarments, or not? Would they go the opposite route, subjecting him to hypnosis and bizarre diets? He doubted that one, if they wanted that they could have done it already. There was a chance they’d keep him in diapers but let him use the toilet, or present themselves as the saviors of the degradation he had suffered… It was possible, and he hoped for it, but he had learned not to hope for too much. Something told him that wasn’t the case. The most likely was that they’d keep him in some variation of what he had before- continent, but with no way to tell that based on what he wore (or, he thought blushing, he smelled like), giving them control over when it happened and whether or not he’d be punished… he shuddered.

What else could tell him what to expect?


Re: Baby Training

Image as stated. The Gift That Keeps On Giving - Dress Clean by Swabbs on DeviantArt
If that doesn’t work the artist is Swabbs on DA. He drew and I wrote, so it seems unfair not to mention his drawing.


Re: Baby Training

ABAlex what a great start can’t wait for next part Kevin.

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That this opens en media res without superfluous exposition is a plus: it hooks the reader quickly. Moreover, your setting comes with clearly defined stakes (loss of freedom, loss of identity, etc.), and the hazy treatment of time is a good fit for the situation. However, your protaganist is too much of a cipher. We need to know him better to care about his plight. Perhaps weave some of the details of his existence into the narration going forward.

Thanks a lot! There will be more soon :slight_smile:
Why Kevin? Are you Kevin?

Thanks a lot for the comment/criticism!
I’m glad you appreciate the opening. Not something I normally go to with ABDL stories, as the stories tend to build to to build toward the point this one begins at. However it seemed to make sense here.

I can definitely see what you mean about the character :confused: He doesn’t really make many of his own decisions (thanks to the captive state), and their aren’t going to be real interactions described to create the character. Also, in the rare times I write myself into the stories I tend to be bland :confused: I’ll try to work on it, and hopefully the next portions will help explain his character. It is mainly about him giving up his own personalty and becoming what they want, so I guess there is that.

Thanks again!

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Alex, you might want to give this FAQ a quick read. It tells you how you can quote multiple posts in a single reply easily. :slight_smile:

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Oh. I missed that. Thanks! :slight_smile:

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No problem. It’s easy to miss that feature if you’re not used to seeing it. :slight_smile:

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:slight_smile: I’ll keep it in mind

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Another aspect of the training was physical exercise.

Prior to arriving, Alex had trained and competed in mixed martial arts, leaving him in decent shape. However, he’s be a fool to think that would have continued.

There were two things that changed it from the exercise he expected. The first was what was considered ‘in shape.’ Like all other parts, this varied from person to person.
The emphasis was on looking the way the master’s wanted, not on health and especially not on function. If anything, strength was discouraged. They used specific training, diet, and various skin care to achieve this. For some, like the ‘pack animals,’ as he called them, this could still mean being bulky, and strong enough to do whatever job their masters wanted. For the sissies, this usually meant the opposite, a slight, effeminate build. For Alex, it was a combination of this, along a youthful look gained with longish hair and soft skin.

The most important aspect of the exercise, however, was the feelings attached. It was important that, despite exercising, no sissy should ever feel powerful. Improving fitness normally had the side effect of building confidence and pride. For the master’s, this could be disastrous. Therefore, every exercise was made to remind the submissive of their place. Exercise by no means meant they were allowed out of the whatever garb their state required, and usually meant goofy combinations of work out clothes and fetish suits. They were constantly surrounded by the trainers, each holding switches to ‘encourage’ them, and speaking in condescending tones. No matter how much weight you lifted, it was hard to feel proud when your reward was being called a ‘good baby’, and punishment for stopping was being publicly spanked. The exercises themselves were made along the same lines, designed to make the sub look like whatever their ‘theme’ was. Like their ‘homes,’ this entire thing was open to the public, and the resulting ridiculous display was one of the more popular exhibits, after only the punishment room.

Alex dreaded these times. He’d be brought in, crawling. Exercise didn’t excuse him from diapers, and they were usually made to be extra thick, making any exercise occur in an awkward waddle. He’d meet up with the other ‘babies,’ and begin with a run. As the trainers explained, they needed to make up for all the time spent crawling or being pushed in strollers. He’d be attached by a leash to a baby harness and lead around by a trainer in a cart, having to keep going or be pulled over, ready to suffer whatever punishment the trainers gave him. He’d then be brought back in the gym. Here, it varied more. The ‘pack animals’ would carry carts of weights while someone lead them with reigns, the ‘dogs’ would play fetch, and the sissies had a mixture of ballet and pole dancing. Alex was occasionally put in the ballet classes, stumbling and kicking high awkwardly with the thick padding, but usually he was with the babies. They’d begin lying on the ground, squirming awkwardly in ways that provided core exercise, but to anyone else simply looked like infantile wiggling. They then would be given ‘toys.’ To the laughter of the onlookers, he’d swat at or kick colorful objects hanging over him, shake rattles, play with blocks. What they didn’t know was that each toy was weighted. This made everything he did seem laughably awkward and week while straining him.

The entire session normally ended with a game, again for the amusement of the paying crowed. The favorite was called ‘pat tag.’ The babies would be gathered on hands and legs on mats. They would then crawl around, the object being for whoever was ‘it’ to pat the others on the diaper. By this point, a combination of diet, the motion of exercise, and sometimes the deliberate actions of the trainers resulted in plenty of filled diaper, making the experience all the worse for the babies and better for the onlookers. The tagger would often cringe as they got closer to the back of their target, who themselves would cringe after being padded. Both would earn chuckles. The rules could change from time to time, but generally it was the same. Sometimes there would be just one or two people who were it, sometimes there would be two teams, each one trying to tag the others. Either way, winners and losers were determined, and the losers would be punished while the winners would be given ‘rewards’, such as being fed bottles by the audience or allowed to play with toys. Alex hated this all. It was a long way to fall from practicing kickboxing and talking about books to playing with rattles and begging for diaper changes.

The audience played another, very important role. For a price, they were allowed to ‘rent,’ the submissives. They could take them off the Institute, normally for a day, and essentially do whatever they wanted as long as they returned them in the same condition.

Alex was subject to this more then a few times. He’d normally end up being pushed around town in a stroller, play various games or have them played with him, and generally be shown off. Most of the people who did it wanted to be seen doing it, and would invite friends, or even have parties where he was essentially the entertainment. They’d all crowed around him, cooing and seeing if they could make him blush. This, to the trainers, served a few purposes aside from making more money. It gave the subs public exposure, letting them know they had been seen by more and more people. It taught them that they were submissive to anyone, not just their trainers, and they should obey anyone put over them. It also meant that anyone nearby would recognize them for what they were, making escape all but impossible. Overall, it added to their humiliation and sense of helplessness, and left them wanting to get back to the Institute, a place they otherwise hated. The sound of their laughter still dug into his dignity. He hated them all for their laughter. He didn’t deserve it, he had told himself. But he was a sub, and would get it. Could he blame them for doing something he’d do in the same place? Would he have?

Alex glanced around the room for a clock. It was very dark, and he had no idea what time it was. He was exhausted, by the position made it difficult to sleep. He had been fed just before being delivered, and he hoped whatever he had been given was normal. Was this part of the plan? Was he meant to be found, exhausted, disoriented, with no idea what time it was or when the light would finally be turned on?

His last few days were the worse. He had guessed that something was coming, probably being delivered to his owners, but it was never stated. Instead, he was kept up late and barely allowed sleep, leaving him exhausted. He was spanked and punished constantly, bringing him to tears again and again. He was denied diaper changes for hours at a time, leaving him with a horrible rash.

Then, when it finally came time, he was blindfolded and carted. He was finally given a change, but only to be spanked again, re diapered, and tied up. He was dressed and fed a supper of mush and water from a bottle, then tied and gagged. The blindfold was removed, and he was made to look at himself in a mirror p. He cringed and pouted. It was a pathetic sight, even to him. The first dream of being delivered in some better condition then he had been was gone. He was clearly meant to be a sissy baby, dressed in a Christmas elf like dress and thick diapers. THey had even put a bow in his hair, as if the rest wasn’t enough. He was clearly exhausted, and desperate. He was then delivered underneath a Christmas tree with a note, and given no explanation.

Part of him still hoped that this was a rouse, that his masters would take mercy on him. A glance around reminded him of the pile of diapers and cute by cruel looking paddle beside him. He doubted he’d be allowed to regain his adult hood, and the pink prints on the diapers removed any thoughts of at least keeping his masculinity. Glancing around futher showed another wrapped box with a note that read “from Santa, to Baby Alex.” He dreaded to think what was inside.

So this is how they meant to find him. Exhausted, spanked and sore, tied and uncomfortable, a man in a diaper and dress. He fought back the tears and tried to retain what dignity he had. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It did not bode well.

Alex was awake again.

This was worse. This was so, so much worse.

His stomach had started to grumble just as he was about to fall asleep. It came on quickly, clearly the result of something he had been fed, and clearly the intention of his masters. That was not a good sign.

It had only been moments until he had filled his diapers to the brim, a combination of long months of training and his feeding rendering him helpless. He now squirmed, even more uncomfortable and humiliated then before. The smell was disgusting, something he had never gotten used to. Worse, the rash and spank marks were inflamed anew, and it took everything he had to keep from screaming.

How long ago had that been? He didn’t know. It felt like hours, even days, and it was still just as dark. He had been fed just before arriving, but felt hungry again, and his stomach rumbled.

He no longer cared what his masters wanted. He knew it wasn’t going to be good. No one put someone through all this to be kind, and he was lying to himself otherwise. However, he realized he it didn’t matter to him anymore. It didn’t matter if they wanted to baby him, to sissyfy him, to display him, to humiliate him, to make him work, to punish him… He just wanted out of the ropes. He’d do any and all of it for a diaper change. That finally sunk into him, after everything, the only thing he wanted was to be changed. He’d give up all shreds of dignity without a second thought for it. He didn’t care about being… pretending to be… a grown man anymore. He wanted his masters… his mommy? daddy? Dominatrix? Owner? Whatever they wanted, he’d be.

Finally, he settled down into the box and stooped fighting the ropes. Instead, he reacted in the way he’d been trained to, the way that had hammered into him for months, and the way he knew his masters would want. He began to cry. His eyes teared and he moaned, calling for his masters to take care of him. He cried like the baby he knew he now was.


Re: Baby Training

Please continue

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[QUOTE=Baby boy 415;67008]Please continue[/QUOTE] Thank you, but that was the end for now. It was only meant to be a short story. I’ve considered writing more, either as a continuation of what happens when his
‘masters’ come, or as a more fluid narrative set during his training like a prologue, but that depends on time and interest. For now, this is likely the end.

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I liked the narrative, I think it worked overall.

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[QUOTE=Cute-Kitten;67171]I liked the narrative, I think it worked overall.[/QUOTE] Thank you! I have mixed feelings about it overall myself. I still do like the story, but I find in retrospect the character is harder to related too. I’m glad it worked for you :).

I am a adult baby and I want to be someone baby girl most of the time people like me don’t know they want to be a baby girl it took me a long time to realize that I wanted to wear baby girl dresses and clothes I like baby dolls and I hope one day I will have a mommy to treat me like a baby girl

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well good luck finding someone! You can also have fun on your own