From Kennel to Crib (Commission)

Thanks to an anonymous Gold-tier patron for commissioning this short story!

***

Today's the day!

I wriggle within the encircling confines of my kennel, staring out through the bars into the room that used to be my own living room. Well, my and my husband Dave's living room, that is. The room that we've spent so many good times together in: laughing, and snuggling, and watching TV…

It's the room that is now home to me and my kennel. Me, Molly. Me, the little puppy girl of the family.

See, Dave and I were husband and wife – as indeed we still are. For three whole years we've shared everything, living an ordinary, albeit increasingly spicy life together. But then, about a year ago, we'd switched it up. A couple of gags and floggers and cuffs in the bedroom hadn't been enough to satisfy us both anymore: not my submissive cravings, and definitely not Dave's sadistic tendencies. And so, we'd finally given in to our mutual desire… for a third person.

Oh, we'd initially thought of Trish as a one-time addition. I can still recall that first incredible night: the mind-blowing pleasure of kneeling naked before another woman… of the taste of her womanly musk on my eager tongue… of the aching need and desire rocking my vulnerable body as Dave had gripped my hips in his strong hands and mercilessly rammed his manly length into me from behind, over and over and over again…

Yeah. Maybe that first night should have shown me my proper place in the dynamic that soon unfolded.

I shake myself back out of my reverie, gazing once more out at the adult human world from which I am now literally barred. No more making breakfast for Dave. No more getting dressed, or reading the news on my phone, or washing up the dishes. No, that's all Trish's domain now. All I've been allowed to do these past eight months is behave like a good, collared, obedient little puppy girl: lapping at her water bowl, and burying her bare face into her food dish, and tossing her chew toys with her pigtails flopping aimlessly around her face, and barking shamefully at the door whenever I need to relieve myself…

Ugh, that last bit has been the absolute worst: crawling out into the sun-filled yard on my leash, and squatting there behind the protective cover of our high back fence, and feeling the hot urine hiss and splash out into the grass between my splayed legs while Dave or Trish watch with smiling eyes. Not to mention the times when I need to do a number two: grunting and straining, forcing my mess out onto the ground in full view of everyone, exactly like some real-life puppy would…

But all that ends today. Because today's the day Master and Mistress have promised to give me a break.

"No more using the bathroom outside, right?" I'd asked that evening last week after having used my safe word and begun the conversation with my master and mistress. "And you'll even let me wear clothes again? I mean, I like being your submissive, really. It's just… you know…"

And naturally they'd agreed. "Of course – no more outside pottying! Though I do think we should be the ones choosing clothes for you," Dave had assured me with a reassuring – and slightly sadistic – twinkle in his eye. "After all, you're still willing to let us take control, right? You still trust us to keep you safe and well-fed and properly under our control?"

Yes, yes, I'd agreed with a blush and a nod of my head. Of course I trusted them. Of course I'd let them choose for me. Just so long as I could be a person again and no longer a pet…

***

"Okay, then! Come on, Dave, let's get little Molly dressed, shall we?"

Uh-oh. Maybe I should have specified a bit more about what they would be allowed to do with me!

I wriggle impotently from my face-down position on the bed, the wrist and ankle cuffs holding my naked body firmly in spread-eagle submission. The collar I've worn these past months is gone, leaving a strangely light, bare sensation around my neck as I crane it backward to watch from the corner of my eye what my dominants are about to do. "Wait, Mas- I mean, Dave," I begin, gazing uncomfortably at the stack of pastel and white fabric he's bearing in his arms. "You- What are are-"

"Hush, baby," he commands, and I instinctively seal my lips shut in obedience as he gives a rueful shake of his head. "Hey, Trish, this should be everything. But hang on for just a few minutes, okay? I've got an extra-special something in mind for our little Molly today…"

Our little Molly. Poor, bound little Molly is unsure of what's about to happen, but as lubed fingers probe my upturned ass and I feel something rubbery slip within, I'm guessing that they want to plug me. Ehh, fair. Whatever. I do kind of like the sensation of being full back there-

Though I'm not at all prepared for the sudden, warm rush of fluid into my lower gut.

"No whining," Trish commands in response to the little yelp that escapes my lips. A sharp, stinging swat to my thigh reminds me that I am utterly at their mercy – and so I bite my lip and bury my face in the mattress, awash in the uncomfortable sensation of the enema flooding irresistibly into my belly. Enemas. God, I dislike them. I've only had them a few times, but they make me feel so bloated… so crampy… so pathetic and helpless and ready to burst…

"Good girl," Dave commends at last, and then the tube is slipping out while Trish undoes my wrists and ankles. God, I'm so ready for it, too! I can't wait to rush over to the toilet for the first time in eight long months. How good it will feel to relax and let everything blast and burble out of me-

"On your back." I stare up, stunned, as Trish thrusts me back onto the mattress with one easy push. "Time to get dressed, little one."

"Bu- but-" I know better than to protest, and indeed even as the syllables leave my mouth her hand is clamping down on my mouth. "Shut it, baby doll," she commands, and I whimper and sink uneasily down onto the bed, the cramps already welling from within my bloated belly. I- I'm not sure how long I can hold it-

"And now for your diaper."

"Wha- no- no-" Again, I know better than to talk back – but then again, never in my life have I seen something quite so appallingly infantile and oversized as the white, pastel-decorated diaper being unfolded within my husband's capable hands. "Trish, I think it's high time we find that pacifier for her, don't you?" he observes, and within seconds my mouth is being pried open by her strong fingers, the giant rubber teat of an oversized pacifier forcing its way deep within. "There. Now keep that in, baby, or you'll wish you had!"

Baby?! No- no, I didn't- I hadn't asked for this- But even as the thick cotton padding slips underneath my trembling bum, and the powder descends like snow to coat my shaven vulva and groin, I can hear the conversation replaying in my mind. No more outside pottying. Wear clothes again. Of course they are technically keeping their word, I now realize, while Trish giggles and tugs the diaper tapes tight around my waist. They really are… but in a more humiliating way than I ever imagined possible.

It's as if my husband can read my mind. "See? No more outside potty runs!" Dave chortles, dealing my now-padded crotch a pair of affectionate smacks. "And you wanted clothes too, right? Oh, just wait until you see the outfit we've found for you, you adorable little baby…"

Not that I have a choice. I can't help but stare at them as they materialize around me and my unwilling body is thrust within their cottony embrace. First comes the onesie: a white T-shirt complete with five sturdy snaps at the crotch – meant to hold up my diaper, I realize as another, even more intense wave of cramps rocks my abdomen. Then comes the baby-doll dress: frilly and pink beyond all reason, with a tightly shirred bodice, a peter-pan collar, and a perilously short skirt that seems deliberately designed to show the entire world my padded rump. Said padded rump receives its own cover… a ruffle-covered diaper cover to match the dress and to complement the high stockings that are pulled up my feebly kicking legs.

"And now… just to make sure she knows her place and doesn't try anything naughty…"

Onto my hands they slide, buckling tightly around the wrists. They're giant mittens, swaddling my fingers and immobilizing them within thick folds of fabric. Snug as they are around my wrists, there is no question of removing them, not even with my teeth – which in any event are occupied with the giant pacifier. And so, as they help me off the bed and lead me to the floor-length mirror – the mirror in which, once upon a time, I would gaze and admire my sexy curves swelling provocatively within my low-cut lingerie. Now, however…

Now I see not a woman, nor even a puppy. I see a grotesquely overgrown baby girl, staring helplessly back over the shield of the giant pacifier filling her mouth. Her legs are thrust comically apart by the thick bulk of her diaper, and now she can't help but stare with flaming red cheeks as her daddy pats her still-pigtailed head and her mommy reaches down to put her bulging, diapered crotch on full display.

"See? Aww, you look so perfect now, baby! I know you're going to love being our little baby even more than being our little puppy!"

I can only whimper as they laugh and lead me away: half-waddling from the unfamiliar bulk between my legs, and half-hobbling from the cramps now racking my poor gut. Fuck, I need to expel this enema – badly. I can't hold on much longer. Experienced as I am with Dave's sadistic streak, I'm beginning to sense that this is exactly what he and Trish want, of course… and yet- No, no I can't give in just yet-

Focused as I am on my desperate urgency, I barely even notice the baby bottle Trish produces, nor the toy-strewn play mat to which she leads me. "Come on, baby dear," she urges, and I wince as I drop awkwardly to the mat amid a rustle and crinkle of my babyish garb. "Now, lie back and relax for me. Let Mommy feed her pretty little darling…"

Feed?! No, not more! Not more liquid- not more stuff in my system- But out goes the pacifier, and in goes the bottle nipple, and I find myself blinking up through my sweat and humiliation at the grinning faces above me. "Drink up, baby," Dave urges me. "Go on. You know you have to. And besides… we both know how much you love sucking on things…"

Well… what can I say? With this bottle in my mouth, not much. All I can do is gulp… and shudder… and feel my own stupid arousal welling within me at the realization of what they've done to me. They've humiliated me beyond all expectation – and yet all while giving me exactly what I asked for. They haven't violated my consent. They've merely taken my stupid subby impulses and used them against me to devastating effect. So strangely enough, even as I feel my mind beginning to accept what's about to happen as inevitable… deep within me I feel a quiet, submissive little voice of grateful assent.

It echoes in my brain as the first hot burst of molten poo and water explodes into my diaper, and as the two adults above me burst into laughter at my pathetic loss of control. Yes. I am a good girl. I'm just a good, dumb little baby now. Daddy and Mommy control me… They always control their little baby. Always.

Yes, today has certainly been the day. The first day of my second babyhood, that is – but judging by their beaming faces and the flutter my own sordid arousal… definitely not my last.