Jacqueline Isn't Here - Chapter 2

Jacqueline blinked. 

She wasn’t on camera this time. The room was the same, a windowless interior space roughly fifteen feet across, but that was about all that was similar. There was no streaming set up, no bed. She wasn’t bound to anything. 

She was bound, just not to anything. 

A gag was in her mouth, hard rubber holding her jaw open. It didn’t silence her, but it rendered her words into mere noise, and with straps going around and above her head, there was no way to spit it out. 

The straightjacket over her body, pinning her arms to her body, gave her an instant sense of claustrophobia. She jerked and twisted, but her arms were held fast, with only a hint of wiggle room. 

It almost distracted from the diaper around her waist. 

It was only damp, at least. Just a little wet, held in place with four sticky tapes and one strap from the straightjacket. Not much of a smell, and it certainly wasn’t the sagging mess that her last diaper had been, though her bladder felt ready to add more to it. 

She sat up sharply, looking around. 

The room was empty. Just a door with a metal latch and a combination lock holding it shut. Next to the lock, there was a stickynote. 

Jacqueline frowned, fighting off the urge to just keep struggling in the jacket. It was difficult to stand without using her arms to balance. She pressed her back against the wall, using it for support, pushing up with ler legs.

Upright, she wobbled for a moment, then waddled to the door to read the stickynote.

‘Combination is 626 - A big girl should have no trouble opening it - Be sure to hurry, you don’t want another spanking! - <3 Mommy’ 

Her eyes widened and her brow furrowed as Jacqueline read the note. 

It carried an implicit message. If she entered the combination, she could leave. If she didn’t, well… 

She needed to enter the combination. 

She inspected the combination lock. It had a spring-loaded cover over the combination. She tried pushing at the cover with her nose, but it wouldn’t move, and even if she could get the cover to the side, there was no way to turn the numbers. 

Jacqueline needed her hands.

She stepped back, breathing deeply. Escaping before she had to use her diaper again was her goal. She didn’t know what ‘hurry’ meant. 

Shutting her eyes, Jacqueline took a few deep breaths. 

There weren’t any tools in the room she could use. Nothing sharp or hard that could be used for leverage. It was totally empty, except for the door and the sticky note and the things she was wearing on her person. 

She tried wriggling again. There was a little room for her arms to shimmy from side to side, and when she did, she could feel the strap around her back moving. 

Squirming, Jacqueline struggled with the jacket. With the little amount of play she had in it, there was enough room to-

“Mmmph!” She squeaked, suddenly, as she felt an alarming buzz start up in the front of the diaper. 

Bending over, she looked down and saw what she’d missed before - stuck to the back of the strap that held her diaper snugly in place, a flat, plastic vibrator was stuck in place, and something had triggered it to start. 

She bit down on the gag, cheeks flushing as the sensation distracted her from her task.

There was only so much she could focus on at once. The claustrophobia, the restriction, and now the vibrator buzzing away, she had to stop again, sliding down the wall into a sitting position. 

Deep breaths. 

After a minute or so, the vibration stopped, and the concern that it might kick back into place was just more motivation to keep trying. 

The strap. It had play. Sitting against the wall, she tried lifting her legs and moving her arms, shimmying side to side to get it out from beneath her, but there wasn’t that much play. The strap holding her sleeves together wouldn’t go past her waist. 

She tried the other way. Pushing against the wall for support again, she stood, wobbled, and then pulled up. 

Bingo. It took a lot of wriggling and effort, but the sleeves moved over her head. 

Her arms weren’t free, but they had mobility. Sleeves covered her hands and a strap held her arms together. With them in front of her body, though, she had a range of motion that she’d previously lacked. 

Before she could celebrate this victory, though…

Her face flushed, and she was once again distracted from escaping her situation. 

It was hard to tell if things had gotten more intense or not. The vibrator sent pulses of sensation up her back, and she bit down on the gag, taking deep breaths through her nose. 

Another minute passed, and when it was done, she needed a few moments to recover. The pressure on her bladder had grown more intense, but it wasn’t yet at desperation levels. 

Getting back to her feet, Jacqueline found that it was easier to move around when she could use her arms for balance. She didn’t need to use the wall for support, she was able to just stand upright. 

Waddling back to the padlock, she tried again, pressing the sleeves of the straightjacket into the combination cover. 

No dice. She could sort of get the cover to slide to the side, but then she couldn’t get the combination dials to spin. 

Back to the jacket. 

She could open and close her hand. It didn’t give her much control, but it gave her enough to grab things, sort of. Fumbling at her back, she felt at the straps holding the jacket over her body. It was hard to tell, but by wriggling and moving her back, she guessed that there were three buckled straps. If she could get those loose, there’d be enough play that she’d be able to get the crotch strap free, and once that was free, the jacket would just slide right off. 

And all that was going to take was effort. 

Jacqueline was determined to escape. The pressure on her bladder reminded her of the ticking clock, but it wasn’t awful. Besides, she cared less about wetting herself, and more about the prospect of another spanking. 

So, she got to work, pawing at her back. Going by sense of feel was hard, especially when she was feeling everything through a thick layer of cotton fabric, and her only way to manipulate things was to fumble through the jacket and try to squeeze whatever she could get her paws on. 

Grumbling into her gag, she worked at it, spinning in place to try and get a better angle like a dog chasing its own tail, until…

The sound of the metal buckle rattling as she pulled it free was relief. Just two to-

“MMpHH!” She squeaked, loudly, jumping in the air as she felt the vibrator kick into high gear. 

The mixed sensation, frustration, and simple burning feelings that it brought up from deep inside Jacqueline were enough to drop her to the floor. It was definitely stronger this time, and her concentration shattered. It wasn’t just that there was a vibrator pressed to her diaper, there was something… more. She wasn’t sure. 

And, just before she could be pushed into climax, the vibration stopped.

She sat up.

Someone was watching. They had to be. The timing was too perfect for it to be anything else - how would they know she’d just gotten free from a buckle? 

But… though she walked a circle of the room to look for one, she couldn’t see a camera, or a viewport, or anywhere to hide and watch. The door didn’t even have a gap beneath it or a keyhole to peer through. 

People do know what she was up to, though, even if she couldn’t perceive any observers. 

If that was how it was going to be, it was how it would be. She proceeded to work on the next buckle. It was harder in some ways, having to reach further down her back, but with the first buckle free, she had a lot more range of motion for the jacket. With only a few minutes of squirming, it came free, and she braced herself for the inevitable vibration.

It came, right on queue, and she leaned back against the wall, biting down on the gag and riding it out. 

Only one buckle to go. 

She was going to make it, easily, without needing to use the diaper. It seemed like she was moving quickly, which made the threat of the spanking a non-issue, too. She just had to get the last buckle, which, now that she had a high range of motion with most of the jacket loose, was not difficult at all. 

Jacqueline braced herself, expecting the vibrator to kick in at whatever it’s highest setting was, but nothing happened. It stayed dormant. 

Frowning, she reached down, pulling the last buckle free from around her damp diaper. It wasn’t hard, with the other three buckles all open. 

As she got it free, though, she suddenly felt her bladder release. 

There was no warning. No building of sensation. She just started to pee in her diaper, helplessly wetting herself. 

That was concerning, but she didn’t take the time to worry about it. She pulled the straightjacket over her head, and was finally, mercifully, free.

The gag had no lock, and with access to her fingers, she could unbuckle it in a heartbeat. 

“Ffffuuuck,” she said, moving her jaw once the hard ball was gone, working out the soreness. Just one last thing to remove. She didn’t precisely want to be naked, but she wasn’t going to be stuck in a diaper.

Bending over, she pulled the tapes free, letting the sodden padding fall to the

She stood up, blinking a few times, then stretched. “Goddamn I’m good,” she said, stepping up to the door and entering the combination on the padlock with free, dextrous. It popped free, and she was able to open the door.

Her mommy was on the other side, with an amused expression and a fully charged hitachi. “Hi there, Heidi. Has someone been naughty?” 

Heidi grinned. “How fast was I?” 

“Thirty five minutes,” Mommy said, raising the hitachi for emphasis. “I think someone deserves a little reward, don’t you?” 

Jacqueline Isn't Here
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon.
This story was originally going to be the first part of a novel that would be Patreon exclusive. However, after Patreon's decisions about this type of content, it's now going to be a public novel. Other than that, the story should remain the same.

As I said on Patreon:
Please, feel free to leave your commentary and thoughts in the comments! I want to know how you feel about this story. I've put a lot of though and effort into outlining it, and I'm very excited to tell it. I hope you enjoy!

Also, I don't always do this, and I'm not going to put a reminder at the start of every chapter, but this whole story needs a content warning.
The plot will delve heavily into CNC play, and may involve coercion and blur the lines into non-consent at certain points as the main character explores kink play in extreme ways. It will get VERY mean. I know that's not for everyone.
I'd like to remind you that this is a work of fiction. The ultimate safeword lies with *you*. If at any point you feel uncomfortable while reading this, please stop reading and wait until you feel ready to continue. Just because something's really kinky and fun to read, doesn't mean it can't also be intense and even unhealthy.

(I also don't want to overblow it and make it sound like I've written the most shocking work of fiction ever. This isn't a shock horror story. It's still a work of AB/DL erotica, and I still wrote it with the purpose of being kinky and fun to read. There will be scenes where characters are punished to the point of tears, though, so fair warning.)

The comments were buzzing as Dolly spoke into the camera. She was naked, laying on her back, positioned in such a way that the viewers could easily see between her legs. “Now, you all have to promise not to tell my Mommy that I’m doing this, okay?” 

For a fairly new performer, she had a surprisingly large audience. Some aggressive pre-video marketing, and paying some of her peers, had ensured that Dolly would get a lot of people watching her tonight. The live video had several dozen people who’d all paid to watch, and the recording would likely do pretty well. It wasn’t record breaking numbers, but ‘Dolly’ didn’t want record breaking numbers. 

She just wanted enough people watching that it was unmistakably an audience. And enough people that she could have her vibrator hooked up to a bot that would run whenever she got a one dollar donation. It was low, but that’s because she wanted it to be low. It would only be a short pulse, but people could chain donations as much as they wanted, like potato chips. 

“I’m not supposed to play on my own,” Dolly said, winking. “Mommy says I could get stuck, and that’d just be no good, but you’ll keep my secret, right?” 

It was a performance, but one that the audience was willing to buy into. Spreading her legs, Dolly displayed the diaper she was laying on, but she didn’t tape it up just yet. There was preparation she had to do. 

Holding it up so the camera could see, she unwrapped a little wax bullet that could defeat even the most stubborn of potty training in about twenty minutes. Dolly wasn’t just relying on the suppository, though; she’d taken an oral laxative a few hours prior that she could feel gurgling inside. She didn’t want to leave this up to chance. 

Showing herself off, she inserted the suppository, moaning slightly as she pushed it deep up inside herself. 

“Now,” she said, reaching off camera and seizing her bullet vibrator, which she’d already lubricated before starting. She held it up. “Since I’ve got nobody else to play with, you’ll play with me, right? Just a little donation and this thing will buzz and make me feel so good.” She winked, then slid it in herself.

Unsurprisingly, the vibrator started buzzing almost immediately, and she grinned and bit her lip, moaning loudly. “Mmm-mmph! Oh, yes.” 

This was no place to stop, though. She had to time it right. Wriggling her butt so that she was centered just right on the diaper, she reached down, folding it into place, moving it snugly so that it was wrapped around her waist, taping it tightly and running her hand over the front, making it crinkle as she pressed the padding into herself. 

“I really hope Mommy doesn’t catch me like this,” she said. “It’d just be awful. She might punish me! Oh well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” 

Reaching off camera again, she produced a long, rubber dildo gag. Like everything else, she’d picked it out very carefully. So many gags were purely decorative, looking nice but only working for the illusion of restraint - she could spit them out easily. This one, though, had an extra strap that went over her nose and down the back of her head, and it was six inches long so that it’d almost touch the back of her throat. She’d be rendered almost completely mute, only able to mumble and moan incoherently. 

Of course, her Mommy wasn’t ‘gone’. She was in the next room, waiting for her cue to come in and continue the roleplay. They’d arranged a safeword beforehand; if Dolly snapped her fingers three times, they would cut the video and end the game. Dolly didn’t expect that she would. 

The audience didn’t need to know any of this. They could piece it together, sure, and it was in a disclaimer deep in the video description, but to the casual viewer she was going to be helpless. 

Once the gag was in her mouth and buckled tightly over her face, Dolly reached down, wrapping a pair of leather cuffs around her feet. There was no need to lock these, but she did anyways, making a loud ‘click’ for the microphone. 

While she was doing this, someone watching turned on the vibrator. “Mmm-mmm,” Dolly moaned, closing her eyes and groaning in pleasure. She couldn’t say much in thank you, but she arched her back in pleasure, making it obvious that she was enjoying this. 

Next, she held up a handcuff key, right up for the camera to see. She palmed it between her fingers, making it obvious that she’d have it on hand the whole time. 

That established, she leaned back, reaching up to one of the cuffs on the corner of her bedframe. With a click, she locked one hand in place, then leaned back. This was tricky, because the last cuff went around the hand that was holding the key, and she had to carefully maneuver her wrist so that she could-

Click. 

Ding. 

She blinked. The key had slipped out of her hand, falling very visibly onto the floor, to an open patch on the ground where it would be visible on camera. 

Her eyes went wide, and she looked at the camera, trying to convey as clearly as possible what she wanted the audience to know. Oh no! I’m actually stuck! 

Naturally, one of her viewers used this moment to donate, making the vibrator buzz inside her. She moaned in pleasure, yet again. She was ‘trapped’, and ‘helpless’, for her viewers to ‘torment’. 

And, with the suppository brewing inside her, soon her diaper would be full and heavy, too. Before that happened, there was just one more thing for Dolly to do. 

Tensing her muscles, Dolly released her bladder… 

The front of her diaper quickly drank up the liquid, the blue stripe on front fading instantly and turning to a yellow stain. Wet and hot, the accident was accompanied by a pulse of the bullet vibrator. 

The woman on camera’s eyes went wide and she squirmed, making ambiguous noises into the gag. “MMM! MMM!” 

She tugged at the handcuffs, but they were solid and real. No fake props. Her steel bedframe held up without bending, leaving her locked down and unable to resist or escape. 

Now that the show had begun, the donations came in hot and fast. It was programmed so that if donations overlapped, the vibration speed would increase, and now they were coming in so much that three and four overlapped at once. The sensation was intense, and as she yanked against her restraints, trying desperately to wriggle free, the rapid-fire donations overtook her senses. Her whole body tensed and strained as they ripped an orgasm out of her. 

The people watching weren’t merciful. There was no rest period for her. The vibrator kept going, even as the sensation was unbearably intense, going well past the point of pleasure. She gasped, sucking in air through her nose, legs twisting and kicking against the leather restraints. 

And, all the while, the suppository was melting inside her, working with the other drugs she’d taken to demolish her control. 

The pulsing vibrator ripped another orgasm out of her. And another. There was no stopping it, even though they’d long since passed ‘pleasure’ and it was just heat and overwhelming sensation. 

She couldn’t track time, except by the building pressure, and the string of rising and falling vibration that she had absolutely no control over. Her eyes watered and she started to cry, but those cries were accompanied by helpless sounds that could only be interpreted as moans. 

When ten minutes had passed, she was almost incoherent, and the audience was starting to lose interest. She was, finally, given a moment to breathe, panting into the deep-throating gag, tears running down her cheeks. 

It was Dolly’s fantasy, of course. If she snapped her fingers three times, the torture would end instantly. 

There was just one more element to complete it. 

Her body couldn’t resist anymore. The suppository won out, and while she panted and whimpered on the bed, a loud, persistent blrrrttghhhbht echoed from beneath her diaper. It was easy to hear in the video, even if her squirm of discomfort and wrinkling nose didn’t indicate what was happening. Her diaper swelled around the seat, bulging ever so slightly as it was filled with a tidal wave of foul muck. 

That got the interest of the viewers, and the donation stream resumed once again. The vibrator fired up once more, more intense than ever. 

“MMMMMM!” 

The sound was louder than any before. She was screaming into the gag as, finally, Mommy opened the door and walked in.

This was planned out, too. Mommy stepped in so that she was visible on camera, looking down at the struggling, whimpering, sobbing form on the bed, then over at the camera, pinching her nose. Looking down, she said, “Yuck, you stink. Did you make a mess in your diaper? You know I warned you about this, but you didn’t listen! And now look at you!” 

Bending down, she picked up the handcuff key, but she didn’t move to unlock the cuffs.

Instead, Mommy said, “If you’re going to be this irresponsible, then I’ve got no choice but to punish you.” 

Grabbing her arm, Mommy lifted and twisted. The ankle restraints and handcuffs had enough slack that she could be rolled over, though it meant she had to cross her arms, and put her heavy, brown diaper seat in the air for the camera to see. 

“This!” Mommy said, raising her hand and smacking the back of the diaper hard, eliciting a loud SMACK! “Is!” SMACK! “What!” SMACK! “Babies!” SMACK! “Get!” SMACK! “When!” SMACK! “They!” SMACK! “Don’t!” SMACK! “Listen!” SMACK! “To!” SMACK! “Mommy!” 

The sobs got louder. The viewers were donating so fast that the buzz of the vibrator sounded like someone was running a lawnmower inside her diaper. Even with the padding of the diaper and the layer of muck that squelched with every impact, the spanks had to be painful. Mommy knew how to leave bruises when she wanted to, and before this scene, Dolly had requested that she hit as hard as she could. 

The woman on the bed was a sobbing wreck. 

Her diaper was filthy and heavy, sagging around her ankles, over a butt that would be bright red and bruising if it was visible. The orgasm torture had gone on for fifteen minutes now, utterly relentless. 

Utterly humiliating. 

Utterly helpless. 

Mommy hesitated, for a moment. Giving a moment where she could have snapped three times, indicating her safeword. 

No safeword came. 

Taking that as permission to move forward with the scene, Mommy pressed her hand into the seat of the diaper, smushing the mess hard into the tender bottom beneath. “Ugh, you can’t even keep your diapers clean, you smelly, filthy little baby.” 

Pushing, Mommy rolled her over again, so that her arms and legs were twisted up, pressing her thighs together and making the diaper squelch even more. Reaching off camera, Mommy retrieved a tube of IcyHot, then stepped up onto the bed, mounting the sobbing form and sitting on her, so that her thighs straddled the outside of the abused diaper. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do, to make sure you learn your lesson,” she said, squirting the contents of the tube into her hands. “You’re going to be perfectly still and perfectly quiet for ten seconds. Then, I’ll change your diaper and let you out.”

The woman barely responded, but her head nodded a little and she seemed to tense. 

It took a few moments for her to properly fall silent, her choked, gagged whimpers trailing off, so that it was just the sound of the buzzing vibrator. The audience, it seemed, wanted to make this challenge as hard as possible. 

She fought, anyways, holding perfectly still.

“One, two, three-” Mommy started counting off, before rubbing the viscous liquid from her hands onto the hard tips of the woman’s exposed nipples. Heat and cold on such a sensitive place made her yelp, and that yelp was accompanied by more whimpers and cries as the sensory overload continued to pummel her. 

Mommy shook her head. “No. Again. One, two, three…”

Holding tight and tense, she fought. Her will was almost completely broken, but she resisted the vibrating bullet, the pain from her spanking, the heat that was burning on her exposed breasts, even the awful stink and weight of her diaper. 

“... Ten.” 

Mommy stood up, leaned over, and looked away from the figure on the bed. 

“Now I bet you all enjoyed that, didn’t you? Or do you think I should be meaner next time?”

Reaching up, she pressed a button on the stream setup, killing the connection to the vibrator.

Abused as it was by all of the wriggling, it flopped off of Dolly’s waist, onto the bed. Next, Mommy moved up and pulled away the gag in her mouth, so that she could finally speak. 

“How’s my naughty girl?” Mommy asked, as she started undoing the restraints.

Her lips were soaked with drool, and it took Dolly a long moment to find her voice. “Oh my goddd…” she purred. “That was incredible.”

Nobody except her knew the truth. 

Virtual Reality
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is, quite possibly, the most unfair story I've ever written, and CW for claustrophobia and general extreme BDSM. 

Angela blushed, looking down at her blouse. “I have to-” 

Leslie smirked, tapping their clipboard. “Well, yeah. It’s completely immersive. Did you think you’d just sit down and put on a headset?” 

To be honest, Angela didn’t have any expectations at all. She wasn’t much into the Virtual Reality scene, she was just doing this as a favor for a… well, not a friend, exactly. And not a favor. More like ‘recompense’ for past troubles. 

That was, hopefully, all behind them. Leslie had asked for a favor testing their new VR pod, and Angela was more than happy to assist them. 

The pod itself looked like… a prototype. That was putting it charitably. Leslie had apparently started with a plain box slightly larger than a coffin, then built the internal workings themselves. All that Angela could see was the plasticy interior that would separate her from the electronics and sensory input, with a clear visor area where her face would go. 

She had to admit, it was a little intimidating, but Leslie had assured her that, once she was inside, it’d feel just like walking around in the real world. 

“So…” she looked down at herself. “Just the blouse, then?” 

“It’s a prototype,” Leslie explained. “A few features are still in progress. For now, you’ll need to strip out of everything.” When Angela still looked hesitant, they added, “Hey, it’s not like I’ve never seen your naked ass before. At least this time-” 

“Fine.” Angela didn’t want to get into that argument again. Kicking off her shoes seemed like the most modest way to start, and Leslie at least gave her the pretense of modesty by pretending to fiddle with their phone while she pulled off her blouse, shrugged out of her jean shorts, and finally lingered over her panties and bra before slipping out of them as well. “Now what? I just… get in?” 

“Not quite.” Leslie smirked. “This is an eight hour test, to ensure that the long-term user experience is comfortable and safe. I’ll be monitoring you remotely, of course, but… well, we haven’t implemented the waste reclamation features yet.” 

Angela tilted her head, frowning. “Is this dangerous? I feel like-” 

“You’ll have an emergency release button at hand,” Leslie assured her, quickly. “If it feels like it’s too much, you can just press a button and you’ll be let out.” 

“Okay. So, without waste reclamation…” Angela trailed off, thinking about what that could mean. “Oh.” 

Leslie smirked, pointing to a metal filing cabinet by the wall. “In there, I assume you can probably put them on yourself.” 

Walking to the cabinet, Angela checked its interior, and sure enough… “These seem a little… big.” She picked up one of the diapers, unfolding it. 

She wasn’t super familiar with how adult diapers looked, but she’d expected the padding to be on par with a scaled up baby diaper. This material looked far thicker, like what she’d expect from three, maybe four diapers layered on top of one another.

Leslie shrugged. “I got a premium brand so you don’t leak on the electronics. Trust me, once you’re in the pod, you won’t feel it anyways.” 

That was fair enough. Angela was willing to trust them on that, and if it turned out not to be true, she’d have the panic button on hand. 

Propping herself up against the wall, Angela held the diaper between her legs, fiddling with the tapes. She managed to get one down, though it was a little crooked, and-

“You’re terrible at that,” Leslie ‘tssked’. Walking over, they took charge, adjusting the diaper and pulling the remaining five tapes snugly in place, and re-sticking the last one. 

Angela felt like she had a pillow strapped securely between her legs. It’d stop leaks, for sure. She idly thought it might even stop a smallish river, or a large creek. 

“Anything else?” she asked, covering her bare chest with her arms. “You’re not going to tell me that I need to put in a pacifier or something for the pod to work?” 

Leslie rolled their eyes. “Nope. Just climb in, lay down, and keep your mouth open when the pod closes so that the water hose gets between your lips. Eight hours is a long time, and you don’t want to end up dehydrated.” 

“Fair, I guess…” Angela looked at the black interior of the pod, still feeling hesitant. “And you’re sure that it’ll just feel like the real world?” 

At that, Leslie almost seemed offended. “You’re not the first person that’s tested my system, Angel. I just need to do an incremental time test. Everything will be fine, and even if it isn’t, you’ll have the panic button. Trust me. There’s nothing that can go wrong here. You’re not gonna back out and screw me on this, are you? Because-” 

“No!” Angela threw up her hands. “Fine, I’m getting in. Sue me for being cautious, I guess.” 

Putting her hands on the side of the rough-looking VR pod, Angela hopped up, legs splaying slightly on account of all the padding forcing them apart. Orienting her body with the pods smooth, latex interior, she laid down her head, spread out her arms and legs, and opened her mouth. 

“Good?” 

Leslie looked down at her, nodding. “Perfect. Now, just hold still. It’ll take just a minute or so for things to boot up, so be patient.” 

They reached up, took the top of the pod, and pulled it down. Angela was surprised as she felt the water tube insert into her mouth - she’d expected a small little hose, like a straw, but it was more than an inch around and long enough to go halfway down her throat. 

She heard a little ‘click’ as the pod was latched shut. 

Then, she couldn’t hear anything at all. Or see anything, for that matter. The latex on her skin felt a little sticky and warm, but that would presumably go away as soon as the VR started and the simulated atmosphere effects kicked in. 

She couldn’t move at all. In her left hand, she felt a little button, and she could press down on it if she wanted to, but the rest of her body was totally immobile. 

Okay, Leslie. Any time now. This isn’t exactly comfortable. 

Angela would have shifted uncomfortably, but she couldn’t really shift around at all. 

To pass the time, she counted off seconds in her head. Leslie had said it would only take a minute to get things booted up, so Angela counted backwards from sixty. 

Fifty nine. Fifty eight. Fifty seven... 

She wondered if Leslie was saying anything, and she just couldn’t hear it through the pod. 

It occurred to her that she didn’t know how Leslie was controlling the simulation, or even what sim she’d be inside. 

… three… two… one… zero… 

Nothing had happened yet. Leslie must have been talking out of their ass when they said ‘just a minute’, exaggerating to put her at ease. So, she kept counting. 

… minus a hundred. Minus a hundred and one. What the hell is taking them so long? 

She gave up counting. Clearly, something was wrong. She pressed the panic button. 

Nothing happened. 

Angela pressed it again. When she got no response, she held it down, counting off ten seconds, then started hammering it rapidly. 

Nothing at all. So far as she could tell, the pod didn’t respond in any way, and neither did Leslie. 

She tried to move, pressing against the latex material that kept her pressed down, but it was too tight, and she had no leverage. It was like trying to move while buried alive. 

Don’t panic. Leslie will get you out of here, any moment. It just takes them a moment to see the alert, I’m sure. 

She tried waiting. Nothing happened. 

Angela started to panic. 

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see, or hear, and the only sensations she could feel was the pressure of the hose pressing into her throat, making her choke when she tried to move her mouth. 

‘Thrashing’ was hardly a descriptor for what she did. She tried to thrash, tensing her muscles and pushing against the latex, but it made absolutely no difference. 

She screamed, but it was so muffled that she could barely hear it in her own ears. 

Did Leslie get hurt? Are they in trouble? Why is nobody- 

Finally, she felt something. A system in the pod came to life. 

It was little reprieve. A cold trickle of something - definitely not water - started to dribble into her mouth. It was thick, and a little chalky, and had a bitter, vegetable taste to it. If she had to place it, the flavor reminded her most of mashed peas, but more artificial, and with something else mixed in. 

She had no choice but to choke it down. The sludge kept flowing, and if she didn’t swallow it all, she would be choked. 

Angela didn’t know how long it lasted. Maybe a minute. Maybe half an hour. She was having trouble telling time. Either way, by the time the mush ceased to creep down her throat, her belly felt intensely full, the sort of full that only came with continuing to eat well after even the barest common sense said to stop. 

In the absence of other sensations, it was all she could focus on, as the intense fullness slowly resolved itself, her body digesting and managing the food, and…

She felt a gurgle in her belly. Nothing intense, just a little pressure, but it had come out of nowhere. She had used the bathroom before all this. There was no reason for her… 

The faint residual chalkiness on her lips came to mind. Medicine, or drugs. Something was mixed in her food, and whatever it was, it was making her body churn to expel it. 

Time passed. Angela wasn’t sure if the drugs in her body were really so fast acting, or if her perception was just that unsound, but she could feel the pressure building inside her quickly. There was nothing she could do, except to clench and fight and wish that she could close her legs or ball her fists. 

In the end, the pressure won. It wasn’t even close. She lost the ability, or maybe just the will, to keep holding it, and a tidal wave of muck spilled out into her diaper. With little room to spread out, it was pressed into her cheeks and up between her legs, smearing around under the weight of her body and the confining pressure of the pod. 

She wriggled, and realized only then that, though the pod was a tight, closed system, the air she was breathing was being circulated inside the pod. If it had been coming from an outside source, she wouldn’t have been able to smell the sudden stench that was radiating off from her still-filling padding. As it was, the overwhelming odor of a very dirty diaper was added to her extremely limited repertoire of sensory inputs. The tube gagging her throat, the mush squelching between her legs, and now the smell filling her nostrils. 

It wasn’t all foul. A subtle hint of baby powder and plastic was mixed in, but the overwhelming majority was from the stinky mess stewing in her diaper. 

Minutes passed, and she gave up on taking shallow breaths. There was no avoiding the smell, except to desensitize herself to it. 

And then, finally, the other parts of the pod came alive. 

Lights flashed in her eyes, and the visor proved not to be a high-definition virtual reality display, but a simple LED like you’d find on an alarm clock. Words flashed in rapid succession, moving back and forth between ‘SLUT’ and ‘BABY’, the words filling her vision. 

SLUT

Vibration suddenly kicked in, with a whirring buzz that she could just barely hear, making the front of her padding suddenly begin to thrumm. She was the opposite of aroused, but it came at her with a delicate balance of force and speed, working up and then dropping, teasing her, making the vibration impossible to forget or ignore. It was one of the few sensations she could feel, and the only pleasant one, and she was quickly dripping wet in spite of everything else. 

BABY 

Another force, creating suction around her breasts, gently pulling at her nipples. It built, and then released, and then built again, in time with the vibration. 

SLUT

The hose in her mouth began to move, and only now could she feel the texture to it. It retracted and then thrust its way into her throat, and then retracted, and thrust, building in speed slowly as it fucked her mouth with greater and greater intensity

BABY

Sound began to play. A loud mix of moans, and whimpers, and whispered words echoed in her ears. In time with the LED display, a quiet voice reinforced what was being said, over the sounds of sex and pleasure. 

“SLUT.” 

She couldn’t moan herself, even as the rhythm of the vibration picked up, pressing harder, making her whole body tremble with sensation. It wasn’t pleasure, there was nothing pleasurable about this, but the burning arousal couldn’t be ignored. Panting, she inhaled deeply, acutely aware of the stench of her diaper and the pinpoints of sensation up and down her body.

“BABY.” 

The thrusting in her mouth grew faster, pushing deeper, until- 

“SLUT.” 

She screamed again as the orgasm was ripped out of her, and in the same moment, the hose in her mouth stopped thrusting and quivered, more of the foul-tasting sludge suddenly rushing into her mouth. She had to swallow as it spurted, trying to keep from choking as the slime went down her throat, making her cheeks puff out with the volume. 

“BABY.” 

The vibration against her sex didn’t cease, and the suction on her breasts only increased, as she squirted into the diaper, fluids getting absorbed by the thirsty, incredibly thick padding. She quivered, her whole body shaking as she choked down the last of the sludge. Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. Words and sounds flashed in her mind, whether her eyes were open or closed. 

Finally, the vibration stopped. With it, the suction, the flashing words, the sounds, all went away. 

She was left alone, without sensation, save for the smell of her diaper, now a little sweatier, and with a tinge of sex to highlight the overpowering stink of her mess. 

Her own panting was the only sound she could hear. A thin trickle of water started to pour into her mouth, a genuine relief. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. 

In her belly, there was a little gurgle as the drugs from the recent round of sludge started to do their work. She didn’t even try to fight it this time, pushing out more smelly mush into her diaper just so the cramping wouldn’t last as long. 

Time passed. How long, she couldn’t tell. Before she was hungry again, though, she felt sudden, unexpected vibrations begin to build. 

“BABY.” 

The suction resumed. The thrusting down her throat returned. 

“SLUT.” 

The orgasm torture resumed. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it lasted longer this time, teasing her, fucking her mouth, making things go on for minutes more than it had the last time. 

And then it ended again. She wet her diaper when she had to pee. As the drugs churned in her belly, she added to the growing mess. She took deep breaths, trying to stay calm, not even trying to ignore the stench anymore. 

Time passed. The process repeated, and this time she was sure it was longer than before. By the time her orgasm came, she was pleading with the device to give her release. 

The cycle repeated. 

Longer, again. 

Her diaper grew so full that she could feel its weight, even inside the enclosed machine. She couldn’t remember what fresh air smelled like. 

She was exhausted. 

The process repeated. 

The process repeated.

The process repeated. 

Happy Baby Day
I'm starting by re-uploading all the content that had to be removed from Patreon. This is part an old gift for HofBondage, featuring an AB/DL parody spin on a horror film.

Day 27. 

“I’m being stalked. I need your help.” 

Cindi stared at me, blinking a few times in surprise. I had stepped into the lunch line a space behind her, cutting in front of a few students, but I had bigger things to worry about than ruffling some feathers. “Uh… hi, Jasmine. It is Jasmine, right?” 

“Call me Jazz,” I replied, sticking out my hand to shake. “We’re roommates, but you haven’t had the chance to meet me yet. You got onto campus a day late, because your truck got a flat coming here.” 

The uncertain stare continued, and I started to notice a hint of fear in her expression. Not good. If you scare her off, she won’t help you. She looked past me, towards the exit. “Yeah… look, now’s not a good time.” 

I kept my hand extended, implacable. I knew she’d give in to my stubbornness, so I didn’t feel uncertain about being so forward with her. “Just hear me out, it’ll take five minutes. I’ll even buy your lunch. If you still think I’m crazy when I’m done, you can get up and leave.” 

Cindi eyed me, still convinced I was off my rocker, but then she adjusted her grip on her lunch tray so she could shake my hand. “Deal. You said you’re being stalked?” 

I nodded, stepping forward in the lunch line. “I’ll explain it once we’re sitting down.” I wasn’t really hungry, but I knew that if I didn’t eat now I wouldn’t get a chance later, so I took a cellophane-wrapped sandwich and an apple while Cindi filled her tray. 

Two punches on my lunch card later, we were sitting across from each other, at a table I’d chosen so my back could be against a wall. “Sorry for all this being kind of weird, I just don’t have time to explain better and it’s… a lot.” 

Watching me, Cindi popped the tab on a soda. “Just… start from the beginning, I guess.” 

“It’s…” I flushed. I hadn’t practiced explaining this beforehand. “I woke up this morning, went about my day, and this freak in a baby mask grabbed me and pulled me off to some sort of… a bad place. I don’t want to talk about what they did, but… when they were done, I woke up back in my bed.” 

“That sounds like a bad dream, Jazz,” Cindi said, skeptically. “Not a stalker.” 

I look around, half expecting to see my abductor charging towards me, but the cafeteria hall is only populated by students. “Well, I thought that too, but… then it happened again.” 

“The same dream?” 

I shake my head. “The same day.” 

Cindi frowned. “I don’t follow.” 

“I woke up, and everything was the same. I got the same good-morning text from my dad, I bumped into the same person as I left our dorm room, the same songs were playing on the radio in the cafeteria when I got breakfast. I tried to brush it off as deja-vu, but then, that afternoon, they grabbed me again.” 

Furrowing her brow, Cindi asked, “And… tortured you?” 

“Yes. And then I woke up, and it all started over again.” 

Cindi glanced at her phone, then at her mostly-unfinished lunch. “Look, it sounds like you need to go to the police. Or maybe a psychiatrist.” 

“I tried that, the sixth time this happened,” I explained, shaking my head, imploring her not to leave. “They wouldn’t help. When I told them I’d been living the same day over and over, they thought I was crazy. When I tried going in and just telling them I was being stalked, they wouldn’t help me without evidence.”

My roommate stared at me, calculating, trying to determine if I was sincere, if I was pulling her leg, or if I’d just gone off the deep end. 

“I’ve had to live out this day twenty six times,” I say, going in for the kill. “And I can prove it. In about five seconds, a guy in a white t-shirt is going to drop his lunch tray.” I pointed towards an intersection of tables a few paces away. 

Cindi raised an eyebrow, watching skeptically until a gangly freshman tripped on his shoelaces, staggered, and sent his meal skittering across the floor. She blinked in surprise, but tried to conceal it. “Maybe you paid him to do that.” 

I could tell I had her then. Checking my phone for the time, I say, “Upstairs, in five minutes and seventeen seconds, someone’s going to put a nylon backpack in one of the dryers and it’ll melt and they’ll have to call maintenance. In twenty three minutes, our RA is going to text with information about the floor meeting tonight. Do I need to keep going?” 

Shaking her head, Cindi said, “No, I believe you, but… why do you think I’m the person who has to help you?” 

“I trust you.” It would sound silly to her, given that she’d just met me, but I’d met her twenty six times and I had a good sense of her character. “You’ve been willing to hear me. You’re determined, you’re willing to take me at my word, and you’ve tried to help me before.” 

“Right, when the day was repeating. What am I supposed to be helping with, exactly?” 

“It’s… complicated,” I replied, blushing again. “Every time, the day ends and I wake up in bed after a certain thing that the stalker does to me. I think, if I can keep that thing from happening, then the day won’t start over.” 

Cindi frowns, pushing her lunch tray to the side. “You want my help, but you’re not going to tell me any details?” 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

Tapping her fingers on the table, she said, “Well, if what you say is true, then either I’ll forget about this conversation, or you’ll break the cycle, which I think would be worth a little embarrassment.” 

“It’s…” my face turned pink. I really, really didn’t want to get into the details of what my kidnapper had done to me for the past twenty six days, so I decided to give her as little information as I could. “Once they’ve grabbed me, they take me back to this room, and make me…” 

Fuck.

Cindi read my expression, blinking in comprehension. “Oh. I mean, I guess it could be worse, then.”

I shook my head. “I don’t… that is, I wake up just before… never mind. Will you help me?” 

Looking at her lunch tray, Cindi pushed it aside and stood, nodding. “Sure. What do you need me to do?” 

Relief washed over me as she confirmed her willingness to lend a hand. “I think I know where this freak set everything up. It’s an abandoned building on the side of campus. If we can get there, and either find proof for the cops or just get the drop on them, they won’t be able to grab me and I won’t have to… that is, I won’t restart the day again.” 

Cindi frowned. “What, the old Jefferson building? Nobody’s in there, they keep that place locked up.” 

“That’s not entirely true.” I smiled, using a bit more of my knowledge of the day. “There’s a way in where we won’t be seen, if we leave here in just a minute, and the two times I’ve tried to explore it by myself, my stalker found me right away. If they weren’t already there, it’s one hell of a coincidence.” 

“Unless they were just following you around, like stalkers are known to do,” Cindi pointed out, sounding skeptical. “It just seems like a longshot, if there was anywhere else you wanted to check out first.” 

“If I’m wrong, we can try again when the day loops,” I pointed out, walking towards the exit. “But I’ve got a good gut feeling about this, and I need to stop this from going on without letting the day repeat any more than it already has.”

Holding the door for me, Cindi asked, “Why’s that?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Stepping out into the campus, I started following the sidewalk towards the far side of the college campus, trying not to rush too much. With Cindi’s help, I felt like I finally had a real chance at getting out of this without being grabbed, but I didn’t want to make a mistake in my haste. 

Cindi stopped, a few paces behind me, and I looked over my shoulder at her. “What?” 

“Are you…” She trailed off, and I realized that she was staring at my ass. My cheeks flushed, and she finished, “Are you wearing a diaper?” 

Embarrassment filling me, I looked around to make sure nobody had heard her, tugging at the back of my shirt in alarm to hide the waistband poking up from beneath my jeans. “Shhh!” I implored, taking a couple steps closer. “It’s… just pullups.” 

“You didn’t say anything about that on your roommate agreement,” Cindi pointed out, doing very little to keep her voice down. “I didn’t know you needed-”

“I don’t!” I snapped, before lowering my voice. “Since this groundhog day freaky shit started, though… I’ve just been having a little trouble. It’s no problem.”

Cindi smirked and started walking again, but she didn’t drop the topic, and she didn’t keep her voice down in the slightest. “So you’ve been peeing your pants?” 

“No! Shut up! People can hear you.” 

Looking around at the other students walking by, Cindi rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s listening to us. If you haven’t been having accidents, why would you need diapers?” 

“Pullup,” I repeated, gritting my teeth. “The package from Wal-Mart said they were for ages twelve and up. And… it’s just been getting harder to hold it, and a couple times I haven’t made it, and…” 

“And you peed your pants,” Cindi snickered. 

I shoved her arm, just enough to make her step to the side. “Shut up!” 

Covering her mouth to conceal a laugh, Cindi said, “You asked for my help, diaper girl.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be an asshole about it.” 

She frowned to one side, amusement still plain in her eyes. “Sorry. It’s just funny.” 

I glared, but there was no heat to it. Cindi was the only person who’d agreed to help me so far, and I couldn’t risk losing her support. “Not for me.” 

Cindi shrugged and we kept walking. I tried not to think about the subtle crinkle as my thin padding shifted between my legs, but now that Cindi had brought it up, it was hard to forget. 

“So, have you used this to do anything useful?” Cindi asked me, filling the quiet time as we walked. 

“Useful like what?” I replied, checking over my shoulder. The last time I’d come to this building, my stalker had found me before I could do any investigation. I was hoping that with my backup, they wouldn’t get another chance, but that didn’t make me less paranoid about an ambush. 

Cindi shrugged. “Like, looking up the lottery numbers or something.” 

“I haven’t had the chance,” I admitted. “They don’t draw the numbers today until the evening, and I have yet to make it past four or five before…” 

“Before they get you?” Cindi looked around as well. “Hey, you’re with me now. Want to go wait at a coffee shop or something for a few hours until it gets dark, check the numbers, then come back here afterwards?” 

“If this works, the day won’t loop again,” I pointed out. “And I’m not going to make it loop again on purpose. It’s been worse every time they get me, and no amount of money is worth that.” 

“If you say so.” Cindi pointed as we rounded a bend in the sidewalk. “That’s the building, right?” 

“Yeah.” The old arts building loomed over us, four stories of solid brick architecture with boarded-over windows. I’d found it a few repeated days prior when I was looking for places to hide a sex dungeon on campus, but I’d never gotten past the first floor before my stalker found me. Given how far aside from campus it was, with minimal security and no visibility to the inside from the outside, it’d be a great place for my stalker to set up. 

Looking for an entrance, Cindi asked, “Think we’ll catch them off guard?” 

“I think we’ve got a better shot than I have so far.” We walked up to it, and I led Cindi off to the north side, where we’d be out of view from the rest of campus. 

Cindi scanned the side of the building, frowning skeptically. “So, what’s the plan to get in? Smash a window?” 

“That’s one option,” I explained, smirking. “I checked the building out a few todays ago. There are a couple ways in, but the easiest is just to go in through the back door.” Pressing the handlebar, the door swung open, letting us into a long, unlit hallway.

“Oh.” Cindi peered in behind me, frowning. “It’s dark in there. Are you sure this is a good idea?” 

I unslung my backpack from my shoulder, pulling out two brand new jumbo flashlights and passing one to Cindi. “I planned ahead.” 

She took the light, clicking it on. “I guess there’s no good excuse to back out then.” 

“Hey, help me out here, and I’ll owe you one,” I pointed out. “Or, hell, if something goes wrong you won’t even remember, so no harm no foul.” 

“Unless time-loop-icitis is infectious.” She chuckled, nervously, and we walked inside the building, letting the door thud shut behind us. 

“We’ll stick together,” I explained, using my light to gesture at the doors. “Check the place out methodically. As long as we have each other’s backs, they won’t be able to grab us.” 

Cindi shiverred, pointing her flashlight nervously into the first classroom on the right. “What if campus security finds us?” 

“They won’t. I’ve been here before, remember?” I pointed down the hall, towards a T intersection. “We can skip this first hallway, I’ve already looked around here.”  

“Whatever you say, Jazz.” 

It was less creepy than the last time I’d explored the building. With Cindi at my side, I felt a lot safer, less anxious at every turn. We checked rooms one at a time, exploring just enough to ensure that there was no hidden bondage gear behind old desks and lecterns before moving on to the next. 

Even as fast as we were moving, though, it took most of half an hour to clear the first floor and find the stairs up to the second. 

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything,” Cindi said, as we headed up. “If I were a creepy stalker, I’d have gone for the first floor. Can you imagine hauling all that gear up the stairs? Makes me tired, just thinking about it.” 

“There’s only a few floors, and I’m not giving up,” I insisted, as we rounded the stairwell. “If you want to take a break, that’s okay, but we’re not giving up.” 

Cindi opened her mouth, then closed it, squinting and pointing her flashlight down the hall. “Did you see that?” 

“See what?” I asked, frowning. 

“Thought I saw something moving,” Cindi said, taking a few steps further. “It was probably just a weird shadow from your flashlight, though. I’m not worried about it.” 

“If you… oh.” I paused, getting a sinking feeling in my belly. “Oh no.” 

“Oh no?” Cindi’s voice was alarmed. “What’s wrong?” 

“I gotta pee,” I said, looking around. “I… I don’t think this building has working plumbing.”

Sighing in relief, my partner in crime asked, “So? You’re wearing a diaper.” 

“Pull-up,” I corrected, peering down the hall, shifting my weight back and forth in an anxious potty dance. “And that’s not the point. I’m still potty trained, and I’m damned sure that I’m not going to pee my pants.” 

Cindi shrugged, looking back down the hall. “Suit yourself. I think the closest campus building with a toilet you could use was only a few minutes away. I guess we’re taking that break after all.” 

“I… don’t know if I can hold it that long,” I conceded, leaning to look further down the hall. “I’m just going to find a toilet, I don’t care if it flushes.” 

“Gross,” Cindi said, but she rolled her eyes and started walking down the hall. “Whatever you say, I guess.” 

“Here, I think the bathrooms are this way.” I guided our walk with my flashlight, still mindful of my surroundings. “You sure you saw something earlier?” 

Cindi walked backwards for a moment, checking behind us. “Like I said, it was probably a trick of the light.” Spinning to face forward, she pointed her flashlight at my backside and giggled. “That’s a cute potty dance.”  

I blushed, realizing I was walking with my thighs pressed together to try and hold back the suddenly mounting pressure. “Shut up.” 

“Just an observation. Y’know, if you wanted to hide your pullups, you should have worn a longer shirt.” Cindi’s tone was innocent, but her expression showed a broad smirk. 

Groaning, I rounded the corner and pointed my flashlight towards the large ‘W’ mounted over a door. Feeling the pressure in my bladder surge at the sight of a bathroom, I hurried to it, trying the pull handle. 

“Shit.” 

“What’s wrong?” Cindi asked, walking up behind me and leaning against the wall by the door. 

I pulled a second time, but it didn’t budge. “Locked.” Desperation mounting, I pressed a hand into my crotch, hopping back and forth on the balls of my feet. 

Cindi frowned, and I half expected her to make a quip, but instead she pointed her light at a far office door. “Just… go piss in a trash can or something.” 

“What?” I asked, caught off guard by the suggestion.” 

“It’s not like the toilets would actually work. Unless you changed your mind about that whole ‘I’m a big girl, I don’t pee my pants’ speech you gave a minute ago.” 

I considered it for a half second, deciding that anything was better than conceding the loss of my potty training. Waddling across the hall, I opened the door, stepped forward, then glanced back at Cindi. She was still leaning against the wall. 

“Aren’t you coming?” 

She chuckled. “To watch the “Jazz pisses in a trash can” show? Ew. I’ll wait out here, thanks.” 

There was no time to argue. Rushing into the classroom, I let the door swing shut behind me, looking around for a trash bin, a janitor’s bucket, anything. Fiddling with my jeans’ snap, I shuffled over to the teacher’s desk, checking under it for- 

Outside the door, Cindi screamed. 

I spun in alarm, half expecting to see my stalker coming through the door in a baby mask, but instead I saw only a brief flash of light come from under the door, followed by darkness. 

“Cindi!” I ran to the door and threw it open, looking around the hallway. 

She was gone. 

Also, the pressure on my bladder had vanished, replaced by a growing warmth around my crotch. 

My attention was split between concern for Cindi, fear for myself, and frustrated humiliation as I soaked the thin padding of my Disney Princess pull-up. 

I stepped into the hallway, shining my light around, but there was nobody in sight. Cindi was gone, vanishing like she’d never even been there.

Worse, I could feel wet warmth trickling down my thighs. I’d flooded my pullup, and looking down, I could see crescent-shaped marks highlighting the shape of my overwhelmed padding. 

“Dammit.” I stepped back into the classroom, putting the door to my back. My bladder was just starting to trail off, and I could feel my socks squishing around my heels, suggesting that maybe I should have gotten incontinence protection for adults instead of the cheap children’s variety. 

My stalker had gotten Cindi. I’d dragged her into this to protect myself, but I’d never considered how it might put her in danger. Now, she was about to be put through the same humiliations and torture that I’d been suffering. 

A selfish part of me considered that, if I just left, my stalker might be content with only one victim. I could run away, be free, escape the time loop and never look back. I’d have to walk across the campus in soggy jeans, the outline of my pullup standing out like a spotlight, but I’d have escaped. 

If I did that, though, Cindi might be held captive forever. She might not get the same chances I had, to try again over and over until she got a version where she didn’t get grabbed. 

As much as I hated it, I couldn’t give up now. I had to find my stalker and free Cindi. 

So, leaving wet footprints in my wake, I raised my flashlight, braced myself, and strode towards the door. 

“Cindi!” I cried out, looking to my right, towards the stairs. “I’m coming to get you! Don’t worry!” 

I moved carefully, mimicking how I’d seen spies move in action films. It was maybe a bad sign that I was basing my actions based off of outlandish fiction, but I didn’t have anything better to draw on. It also probably didn’t help that, instead of moving silently, my shoes were squelching and my sodden pullup was crinkling with every movement of my hips and thighs. 

A felt a different kind of warmth that had nothing to do with temperature and stopped to get annoyed with myself. “Goddammit,” I said, directing my words between my legs. “No. We’re in peril here. I know it’s been a while, but now is not a good time.” 

My sex-starved body disagreed. I couldn’t blame it, no matter how inconvenient the circumstances. I’d effectively been edged twenty six days in a row with no hope of release, and most of those times, I’d had some variety of soggy protection rubbing between my legs. 

I tried not to let it worry me that I was being conditioned to get hot and bothered by dirty diapers.

“We get through this without getting grabbed, and I promise we’ll have some fun tomorrow,” I assured myself. “Normal fun. And I’ll get my potty training back, and put all this behind me, and-”

I didn’t hear the figure that had crept up behind me. I only knew they were there when a hand had snaked around my face, pressing a wet towel over my mouth and nose. 

“Shh,” a voice said in my ear, such a low whisper that I couldn’t make out anything distinguishing about it. “Go to sleep.” 

I sucked in a panicked breath, which was the wrong decision. The chloroform kicked in instantly, and I didn’t even feel it when my body hit the ground. 

…

It was hard to tell when exactly I came to, because the world was still black. Something was pulled over my face, covering my head from the neck up, blocking my vision and distorting my hearing. My mouth was open, held that way by something metallic and cold, so that I couldn’t help but gape. 

I was lying down. I tried to get up, to pry the hood from over my face, but my wrists were strapped down by my side, and my ankles were similarly fastened down. Judging by the cold air I could feel, the rest of my body was naked. 

Fingers touched me, running down the side of my body gently. I tensed, as though my captor wouldn’t be able to see me if I held perfectly still. 

“The baby’s awake,” they whispered, quiet and toneless. I identified them at once as my captor, doing their signature affectation to make their voice unrecognizable. Gender, age, and accent were all lost to me. “It was sweet of you to bring me another plaything, but she’s a little occupied right now, so we can play together instead.” 

Fear for Cindi’s wellbeing fizzled and died at the back of my mind. I wanted to care about my friend, but as soon as the day reset, none of this would matter to her. I, on the other hand, would remember every detail and lose even more potty training as soon as this was over. 

“I’m not sure what you were doing on that side of campus, but it was an interesting challenge having to carry you all the way over here.” The fingers reached my hips and trailed over my thighs, then stopped. “I was going to have so much fun making you wet your diapers for the first time since you were a baby, but I guess you beat me to that. It was so cute watching you have your little potty accident.” 

They could see me? My blood turned cold and I shivered again, except that this time it had nothing to do with the cold. 

Their hand left my body and I could barely hear footsteps through my hood, leaving me alone for a moment. Though I was sure it was futile, I tested my restraints one more time, tugging at the cuffs and hoping for an unprecedented mistake that would let me slip free and run while they were a few paces away. 

I had no luck, and before I could try anything else, I heard them return, little caster wheels rattling on the floor as they dragged something over with them. 

“After an accident like that, little baby, you have to be dehydrated,” they said, and I felt my stomach sink as I realized what they’d dragged over. 

My mouth was still held open, and there was nothing I could do as they leaned over me, fixing a rubber hose to the opening in my hood. I was forced to breathe through my nose, little airholes ensuring that I didn’t pass out from oxygen deprivation. 

I expected a flood of some sort of fluids, be it baby formula or prune juice, but no such sensation came, and the footsteps echoed away for a second time. I held still, trying to puzzle out why my captor hadn’t gone through with the force-feeding, but they returned a moment later, the sound of more casters following them. 

“Hold still,” they warned, and I knew better than to disobey. I had an idea what was coming, and I didn’t want them to spank my ass raw first. 

With no vision and only muted hearing, I could only shiver in anticipation and wait, deprived of any senses that would let me know what was coming next. 

A cold, slippery something pressed against my back door, with enough force to slip in quickly. It felt obtrusive, but it wasn’t anything close to the largest plug that had been used inside me these past few weeks. 

“Can you breathe?” they asked, stepping back. 

I inhaled through my nose in reflex. It smelled like dust and leather, but I could, and I nodded. Lying to my captor was a bad idea. 

“Good.” 

I received no warning before a stream of chalky baby formula filled my mouth, tasting like something had been mixed in with it, filling my mouth and threatening to choke me if I didn’t swallow it down. 

At the same time, warm water flooded into my other end, as the enema nozzle pushed water up my body. 

I twisted in discomfort, but the hose was placed securely inside me, and it was all I could do to gulp down the formula and squirm. My captor laughed mirthlessly, taking delight in watching my helpless discomfort as I was filled with fluids from both ends. 

With no way of knowing how much she meant to feed me or the size of the enema being pumped inside my body, I had to brace myself for the worst, choking down the formula and trying not to think about what drugs were being fed to me. I could feel my bowels swelling as they were filled to the brim, painfully full with the water, as well as… the stuff that had already been in there. 

Only when I was certain I was about to burst from being so full did the floods both stop, in almost exactly the same moment. A second later, the feeding hose was unclipped from the hood, and the brace holding my mouth open was taken away. 

“How are you feeling, baby? A little less thirsty?” my captor crooned, taunting me.

I knew better than to respond with any sort of venom. If I chewed them out, yelled insults or swear words, they would have no problem making my tortures infinitely worse. Helplessly, I gave in to what they wanted. “Yes.”  

Standing at the end of the table, they pushed my legs open. “I’m going to take out the nozzle. If you have an accident before I give you permission, I’ll fill you up again with twice as much.” 

The threat was genuine. I clamped down, struggling to keep everything inside me as the lubed-up nozzle was removed. I expected to have a diaper wrapped around me a moment later, but instead, the nozzle was replaced by another object, something longer and much, much wider, pressed hard enough to slide inside me and then stay there. 

Even as full as I was already, the plug managed to feel massive inside me, making the cramps in my belly grow worse. Only then, with the plug firmly lodged inside my body, did I smell a puff of baby powder and hear an all-too-familiar crinkle. 

Knowing the orders that were about to follow, I lifted up, using the tiny bit of leverage I had to raise my body so that they could slide the diaper under my waist without having to be told. There was a surprised pause before my captor slid the protection in place. 

“You knew what was coming next,” they commented, applying enough sweetly-scented baby powder that it made me cough. “Is my baby secretly enjoying herself? Am I stirring up fantasies you’ve kept hidden from everyone, of being a pathetic little diaper slut?” 

I shook my head. I could have lied, but acting as though I had wanted this all along had only made things worse when I’d tried it before. 

“I don’t believe you,” they taunted. “How else would you be so good at getting your diaper changed? You must have been desperate for someone to make you into the little diapered plaything you so clearly are meant to be.” 

There was no use trying to explain that I’d done this a couple dozen times already, even if it was possible that they would believe me, so I kept my mouth shut. 

They didn’t linger on the topic. “It doesn’t matter, but I suppose since you’re being such an obedient baby, I just might have to reward you.” 

I knew that was a lie, or that the ‘reward’ would be something I would hate, but I didn’t say as much as the comically thick diaper was folded over my body and taped snugly in place. 

Only then did my captor walk to the head of the bed, release two straps, and pull the hood away from my face. 

I looked at them, looming over me, loose clothes and a disturbing baby mask covering their body and face. I’d seen this costume far too many times, but it still made me shiver in fear as I looked into the mask’s lifeless eyes.

“Now, baby, let’s see if you really are a good girl,” they whispered. Even without the hood, their voice still sounded strange. I wasn’t sure if they were just good at voice acting, or if the mask had something installed to warp their voice like Batman in the movies, but the result was the same. “If you want something, you’re going to have to ask me nicely for it.” 

We’d done this before. My captor was about to produce a vibrator, or another toy, and tease me until I begged for climax. It was humiliating, but now that I knew the rules, it was simpler to just obey and ask immediately. The day would reset, and- 

“I’ve filled your enema with a few little surprises,” they said. “It’s going to start getting uncomfortable, very quickly, but with that plug you’ll never be able to release it. If you want to use your diaper, you’ll have to ask for it.” 

As if on cue, another cramp racked my body. I drew in a sharp breath, grunting in discomfort as the enema reminded me of its presence. 

“Go ahead, baby,” they taunted, moving to my side and placing a hand over my midsection. “Ask. Beg. Tell me you want to fill up your diapers like a little baby.” 

Color rose in my cheeks, and my instincts told me to fight it. I could hold it off, ride out the cramps, and I wouldn’t have to- 

I groaned in pain as another surge of discomfort rose up from inside me. Loathing myself, I whispered, “P-please.” 

They leaned in, ever so slightly, applying a bit of weight down on my belly. I squirmed as the pressure redoubled, squeezing against the plug that stayed firmly in place. “Please, what? Be specific, baby.” 

“I… I want to use my diaper,” I whimpered, face flush with humiliation. “Please let me use my diaper.” 

“Hmm,” my captor mused, applying more weight onto me, heightening the pressure to torturous levels. I wriggled as the cramps hit me again. Facing me from behind the mask, they said, “That’s not good enough, baby. Ask me properly.” 

Tears were starting to well up in my eyes, but there was no relief unless I gave into their demands and admitted what I wanted. Laying on a toddlerish lisp to try and put myself in their good graces, I looked their baby mask in the face. 

“Pwease,” I whimpered, crossing my fingers that they would be generous if I went above and beyond, trying to think of the words that they wanted to hear. “Pwease wet me fiww up my diapers. I want dem to b-be squishy, and smewwy, and… I wanna be a diaper baby!” 

There was a second of pause as the mask stared back at me, expressionless. Then, my captor laughed, their voice full of mirth and mockery. “Good baby! You really do know what it takes to make me happy, don’t you?” 

Still standing by my side, my captor reached their hand down through the front of my diaper, one finger hooking the handle of the plug and pulling sharply. There was a moment of pressure as the plug resisted being removed. Then, in an instant, it was free and they’d pulled their hand away, leaving the plug in the seat of my diaper rather than try to fish it out. 

Even had I wanted to, there was no holding it in any longer. The enema rushed out, flooding my diaper with warmth. The padding, as absorbant and thick as it was, could barely hold it all in and was sagging within a second, the moisture being wicked up to soak the front of the diaper, squelching between my legs and up against my sex. 

My captor wasted no time. Even as I was still filling up my diaper, the water giving way to foul-smelling mush, they pressed the end of a wand to the front of my diaper and kicked it up to full. 

Sensations of discomfort and humiliation were pushed aside as my sex-starved body registered the sensation. Grunts and whimpers were interrupted by an involuntary moan, pleasure making my body tense and relax all over. 

They laughed again, pressing the wand harder into my swollen padding, and as the smell of my mess hit me I moaned again, back arching in pleasure as they took advantage of my helpless humiliation. 

“Tell me you like it,” They instructed, as my full, heavy diaper rumbled against me. “Tell me-”

“I like it!” I cried out, moaning loudly. “I love… i...” My words were cut off by another moan as they adjusted the wand, so that it was closer than ever to my most sensitive parts. Heat and pleasure were building, growing up to a precipice of pleasure and-

I sat up in bed, the pleasure vanishing to be replaced by frustration so intense that it made me miss being tied to that bed. 

I was still wet between my legs, but as I looked down, I saw that it wasn’t because of anything fun. For the first time in any of the repeat days, I’d wet the bed. 

…

Cindi stood in line at the cafeteria, minding her own business, planning out the rest of her day. She was tired from the day before, having had to do a whole lot of setup and preparation without being seen, but now excitement was overcoming her fatigue. 

Someone cut into line behind her and she spun, surprised to see her roommate, Jasmine. Just the person that Cindi wanted to see, though she hadn’t been expecting to run into her this early in the day. She didn’t have any of her supplies on hand, and they were too public. She would just have to play this off for now. 

“Uh… hi, Jasmine. It is Jasmine, right?” Cindi said, uncertainly, trying to act as though she hadn’t recognized her roommate immediately. 

“Call me Jazz,” Jazz replied, sticking out her hand to shake. “We’re roommates, but you haven’t had the chance to meet me yet. You got onto campus a day late, because your truck got a flat coming here. I’m being stalked, and I need your help.” 

Cindi felt cold and afraid, thinking she’d been found out. How did she know about that? 

Looking at the exit, half expecting the cops to come bursting through the door to come to Jazz’s aid, she tried to play dumb and innocent. “Yeah… look, now’s not a good time.” 

Jazz kept her hand extended, implacable, practically forcing Cindi to take it. “Just hear me out, it’ll take five minutes. I need your help, so that neither of us get grabbed this time. Can I buy you lunch?” 

What the hell is she talking about? Cindi thought, frowning. As she thought about it, though, she realized it didn’t matter. She doesn’t know anything. If I go along with this, it might end up working better than I’d even planned. 

If Cindi had her way, she’d have her roommate moaning in diapers before the end of the day.