Nothing particular great to read here, but I suppose it’s not half bad. May continue, may not. Already have a little more written.
They called it “The Trade,” if you were privvy enough to be on their supply or demand lists. It had grown more in popularity in recent times, but everyone, even most media outlets remained skeptical of it’s true nature. Sex slaves were and have always been big business. Hundreds and thousands of men and women go missing, even children at times too. While some can end at the hand of a killer or be whisked away into a new life and identity with a jealous parent many end up servicing humans in the darkest of ways.
But I wasn’t to be used on such terms.
It was prom night, years ago now. I think by my estimation I’ve been here for at least five. Though I’ve stopped bothering to accurately count long ago. I remember getting into the limo with my date for an after dance party. The next thing I know I awoke in a diaper and footed pajamas, surrounded by bars in a nursery that was just perfect for a baby girl. But the baby in this case was me, and I was seventeen!
I began to cry, unaware of what was going on. A woman entered the room and cooed at me, asking me if I needed a diaper change. I protested, saying that I did not need a diaper and wanted to know what was going on. She explained that she and her husband wanted another daughter and had adopted me, a teen baby so they could always have a little one to take care of. Almost like a diapered pet, if you will. I told her that I didn’t know what a teen baby was, or where you could get one, but I was certainly not going to stand for being treated as if I was a toddler.
She retorted with a bit of anger, saying that they had adopted me under the belief I was a teen baby and so that is who I was going to be now. I got really upset and told her that I’d call the police but was told that there would be no proof as I was a minor still, and would be here until I was twenty five. “But you won’t make it to that age without DNA Resets, so don’t count on getting out of this nursery anytime soon,” she said. She then reached behind the crib and brought up top bars, locking them down so I couldn’t escape. There I sat, in pink fuzzy pajamas and a padded behind with no way out.
Reaching into the pocket of her dress she pulled out a colorful walkie talkie. “I’ve got the baby monitor on me, so when you decide to behave or if you need a diaper change you can cry for mommy. But I’ll only come when you accept your new life. You’re no longer where you think you are, and there’s no way out of this rabbit hole.”
I laid back down, tears beginning to stream from my eyes. What about my friends? My family? My boyfriend…my life! How did I get here? How was I going to get out of here?
I had so many questions, so much anger…but mostly, I was afraid. I was afraid that I would never see my family again and that these crazy people were going to eventual kill me. But that wasn’t going to be the case.
Nearly the first twenty four hours were spent locked up in the crib. I was trying to exert more will than I had previously known myself to have, refusing to use the bathroom in my pants. Or footed sleeper, as it was. I finally began to scream accusing her of being a sick demented bitch, then threatened to undo the footed sleeper and take off the diaper. She smirked at me, and then dared that I do it. Unbeknownst to her I was in gymnastics up til I was fourteen and still practiced regularly, so I’m an especially limber girl. I managed to get the zipper halfway down before she produced a remote from her pocket.
“What’s your name, little girl?” She asked, with a mischievous grin across her face.
“L–Laura” I said, wondering why she felt so confident.
“Well Laura I didn’t want to use this so early on, but I guess you need to know who has the upper hand.” I watched as she pressed down on the remote and immediately I began to have convulsions. My brain felt like it was on fire, a sustained censory overload shot through my spine and suddenly I felt both my bladder and bowels evacuate. “Sorry about that, it takes a few tries before it calibrates. By the third or fourth time it should be much more pleasant.” Dropping the remote control back into her dress she crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, does lil Laura want her diaper changed?”
I didn’t know how I could still be crying, I was so parched. But I couldn’t let her win. “Fuck you!”
The woman shook her head and sighed. “Laura, it’s not polite for a little lady to say such naughty words to their mothers.”
I had begun to heave and breathe heavily, almost violently. Out of no where I screamed at the top of my lungs. “You’re not my mother!” There was that control again, and I braced for the worst shock in my life. But it didn’t happen. In fact, I found myself paralyzed.
“This device has a few uses. You won’t be able to move for awhile, so try to relax and go with it.” She unlocked the crib top, swung it down and moved the bars towards the floor. Walking towards a changing table just my size, filled with various disposable diapers, and after several minutes of feeling my body involuntarily moved I had been stripped and brought to a point where my diaper could be changed. She tended to the ordeal as if I was a toddler, commenting on how much of a messy diaper I made. After several minutes I was back in the crib bed proper, freshly powdered and plastic panted. There was a chain now around my waist, a lock fastened in the back to keep me in my new mother approved bathroom habits. And then there were the mittens, locked around my wrists so I couldn’t really manipulate anything too intricately. “I’m going to re-initiate your nervous system, but when I do you better not get figidity young lady, understand?” I wanted to say something–but obviously that was out of the question.
Finally free again to move I recoiled away from her by instinct, although my bare breasts had been exposed to her for minutes already.
“Here,” the woman said as she motioned me to lift my arms. I did, and found myself now sitting in a pink satin night gown. “Are you thirsty?”
Saying nothing I meekly nodded. The woman smiled and held up her finger. “Just a few minutes, I’ll be right back.”
I waited there on the edge of the crib bed, bewildered. I was totally, absolutely, one hundred percent fucked.
The woman returned with a bottle of formula some ten minutes later, slightly heated for maximum affect. I had taken to exploring my new surroundings free of crib bars, unused to the extra padding between my legs and the rustle of plastic pants as I walked. There was everything a little girl could want here, from an E Z Bake Oven to Barbies and Playskool kitchen. “Come on baby girl, it’s past midnight. Time for you to go back to sleep.”
Letting the woman take my hand she lead me back to the crib and I hopped back up, the rustling of plastic pants and the smoothness of the satin feeling strange on my body. Because of being unable to really grasp anything I felt a firm hand push up on my butt and began settling into the bed with ease. A quick pats on my diapered bottom followed before I turned around and took the bottle handed to me. “Drink up and sleep tight, I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe you can meet your sister!”
I sighed as the crib bars were brought back. “I promise to be good, please don’t cage me.”
The woman looked down, as if to think for a few. “Maybe in a week or two sweetie, you’ve got to show me trust first.”
Sucking on the bottle in a carefree position I watched as the bars enclosed my world again. Cranking up a mobile far overhead I gawked at it languidly, still sucking down on the bottle. It was vaguely sweet, and not entirely nasty–but I couldn’t help feel as if there were something else in it because shortly after finishing the last drop I found myself falling asleep, my eyes opening and closing as the soft night light kept any monsters at bay.
Waking up the next day I felt slightly confused until I remember what had occurred. Underneath my satin nightgown were the plastic pants, opaque and snugly locked. I felt the diaper with a mittened hand and recoiled slightly as the wet material pressed against my loins. It was cold, I had done it unknowingly in my sleep.
And it was only a sign of things to come.
The woman entered shortly after bright and cheery, she pulled back curtains to a window that was adjacent to my crib. I looked out to see a tree, birds chirping and a new dawn in full swing. “Did mommy’s little princess sleep okay?”
I rubbed my eyes cursing myself for not being a morning person. It took every ounce of good in me to hold back the words that really wanted to escape my mouth, but I yawned and complained about being wet.
“Well! We can change you after you eat breakfast down stairs,” she said.
I sighed as the cage was deconstructed around me. “It’s kind of damp and cold, can’t I please be changed now?”
The woman started putting two and two together. “Oh my, did babykins wake up wet?”
Hanging my head I blushed several shades of rose and made no attempt to respond to that question, but she knew the answer and was down right pleased as punch. “That’s so cute! I didn’t think you would be bed wetting for awhile.”
I snapped, and lounged towards her throat. “You bitch! I don’t want to wet the bed!” She began to back peddle but made no effort to grab my arms—I had forgot about the remote! Seconds after remembering her secret weapon I hit the ground in convulsions as yet again my bladder excreted a warm flow and my bowels did it’s best to send something through.
That was it. I cried, cried, and cried some more. I sobbed so hard I had snot running out of my nose. There I laid in the center of some nursery, propped up on the floor with a strange woman cooing softly in my ear telling me it was going to be okay. She stuffed a pacifier in my mouth and I accepted it without thought, and then she slowly laid me on the floor as to change my diaper again.
Paralysed with by remote I laid listlessly trying not to fight whatever was being used to render me helpless. The woman proceeded to change me much as she did the night prior, my nervous system reflexively convulsing as a cold wipe was rubbed all through my intimate areas. Powdered, happily hearing tapes and finally feeling a new diaper snug around me. This time control returned sooner, and I was slowly helped up to a standing position and made to put my feet through the holes of the locking plastic pants. Still sucking my pacifier I listened to every command.
Eventually I was lead out into a hall, down some stairs, and into a high chair where a bubbly brunette fed me apple sauce and cereal making all sorts of noises. Prattling on about being so excited with having a baby sister, she told me how cute I was and how all her girlfriends couldn’t wait for the next slumber party. I wanted to gag, but was so hungry I kept taking each spoonful. “Mom, can I have a sleep over Friday?”
A man who had been sitting at the head of the table quietly drinking coffee put down his paper. “Not for awhile sweetie, your new baby sister still has to adjust.”
The woman came from behind and wiped off excess dribble from my face. My hands, still mitten bound, were not very practical for eating anyway. “That’s right. We’ll see how well she does at the store later today and maybe once she gets used to us she’ll be happy to meet your friends.”
I rolled my eyes and in between spoonfuls of apple sauce I droned out “I am so excited, I can’t wait.” While wholly sarcastic, the brunette smiled with glee.
“It’ll be so fun sissy! You’ll see! Now open wide, choo choo!” She brought up one last spoonful to my mouth and I took it most obligingly.
Despite her best efforts, the woman had a hard time convincing me I was going to appear like an everyday occurrence to random strangers as we drove to a store–TBRus, to be exact. I had taken the name to be some weird moniker for a chain perhaps once called ‘Teen Babies ‘R’ Us,’ and as we pulled into the strip mall I watched out the back seat window and found all sorts of advertisements for baby-like things in convenient adult sizes. I, at present, was wearing some sort of sun dress. It was a cotton color, a nice length to cover my diaper. We spent a couple of hours going up and down isles of infantilistic objects of youth long passed. I admit, it was fun to go baby clothes shopping–until reality sunk back in and I remembered who that baby was.
“Oh. My. Gosh! This is the cutest thing ever!” The woman held up a skirt, complete with frills. “It’s like baby pants and a skirt. Oh wow, you’re gonna look so cute in this!”
At this point, I spit out my pacifier (I had put it in so I wouldn’t be inclined to complain) and protested. “Oh no, there’s NO WAY!” Suddenly my urge to urinate became strong, and with a little effort I had voided into the diaper locked around my waist. My face had become blank, but almost reflexively I turned red again.
“Uh oh,” the woman said. She then squealed and through the skirt combo into the cart. “Looks like we’ll get to test these out on our way home!”
God no, I thought. Please, please, please…no! “No–wait! Please…tomorrow! Not in public!”
A few passer-bys stopped and stared, and I promptly put my pacifier back in. The woman looked over at the voyeuristic strangers and faked a laugh. “She’s a little picky with her outfits–you know how little girls are.”
Nodding and verbally agreeing the two onlookers sauntered off.
After standing silently next to the cart through the check out lane the cashier had smiled at my appearance. “Someone’s one lucky baby girl! Look at all this cute new stuff!”
I bowed my head trying to not react, the woman mentioning how shy I tended to be. The cashier thought that made me extra cute and cooed at me, waving good bye as I toddled off towards the exit. Before the bags of new stuff was loaded I would be changed in the back of the van, sporting my new pink fleece skirt that had lots of lovely ruffles protruding out just in case anyone couldn’t tell by the diaper brim poking out that I wasn’t one to visit the potty too often. With a rockin’ pink Hello Kitty cotton top, I sat quietly in the back sucking on the pacifier trying not to open my big mouth.
Here I was, in just a span of 48 hours reduced to riding in the back of a minivan sucking on a pacifier, outfitted in the most youthful looking clothes around–complete with a diapered bottom. Boy oh boy, I felt as young as ever! Hah.
We pulled into the garage and I feeling especially nice helped carry the bags into my nursery, and even helped the woman unpack them. As I finished hanging up the last article of clothing in the bag–another dress–apparently it’s warm year round here–I closed the door and stared at my pacifier sucking self in the mirror.
I stood there dazed, reaching my hand towards my reflection wondering exactly how this had happened and what I could do about it. I cringed as pressure built in the bowels down below, then looked over to the woman who was humming a song as she was gathering up the bags and placing them into each other. I had to go number two…but couldn’t, not like this. It was hard enough to wet myself. “Uhh…I need help. Please, let me use the toilet.”
The woman looked over with a concerned look. “Mommy told you sweetie you’re in diapers for now on, go there.”
Crying, I pleaded again explaining that I could barely wet myself much less fill my pants with poop. She sighed and reached into her pocket for the remote. “Do you want me to use this? The more we do the easier it gets.”
I shook my head, wiping tears from my face. “No, just…just leave me alone.”
She patted my head. “Okay sweetie, remember to call for Mommy when you’re done.”
Finally, alone, I had to think fast, because I was not about to fill my pants. I looked over to the window, and to the tree. In desperation, I tried to climb on top of some Playskool toys and push out the screen. As I exerted force enough to push said screen out, I felt my bowels give way and the back of my skirt fill. “Noooooooo!”