A Sissy's Progress - Chapter Sixteen

Whaaa-?

I rub the sleep from my eyes, blearily eyeing the darkened screen before me. Shi- I mean, Poopy. I must have fallen asleep! Oh, no. Mommy wants me to finish the story before tonight, and I have so much more to say.

Strange, isn't it? I muse, tapping impatiently at the keyboard to wake the thing from its own power nap. Here the life of an infant is supposed to be so innocent and lazy and carefree. And yet, thanks to Mommy's orders, I—the closest thing to an infant in this household—am working under more stress and pressure than pretty much any day at the office. Ever.

Then again, I guess at the office I wouldn't be racing with the clock to avoid getting punished with an enema or public humiliation, would I?

Whatever. I've got to write. And happily enough, I've finally brought the story along all the way to the holidays! Nothing like a bit of Christmas cheer to brighten up my tale of complete, abject humiliation, right?

***

Yeah, things really went downhill for me after that unfortunate wet dream. Erica was having nothing but compliance with her rules, and that meant a life that was pretty much composed of equal parts discomfort, embarrassment, and frustration.

Discomfort? That was from the diapers that were my new underwear night and day, complete with the wetting and the pooing that this inevitably involved. Embarrassment? Oh, that one hardly needs definition. What self-respecting adult wouldn't be humiliated to find himself stuck in diapers round the clock? Forced to wear them in broad daylight, praying his own coworkers and friends won't notice? Then waddling homeward to be laid out and changed yet again by his smirking and stern-voiced wife? Dear reader, I can't imagine you wanting that any more than I did?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

And the frustration? Well... I was back in a cage again, remember. But you know what was even worse? The fact—and I blush even now to confess it—that thanks to Erica's previous regimen of diaper-wearing as alternative chastity, I was finding myself actually becoming aroused when... when I was in a diaper.

Yeah. No shit.

So maybe now you can imagine the mingled shame, self-loathing, and sex-deprived arousal that became my new modus operandi. Trapped in garments containing my own excrement, turned on by the swaddling soft embrace around my groin, and yet brought up painfully short as my vainly stiffening member found itself lodged within the steel confines of the new cage that was my constant companion...

I guess you'd be a little grumpy about all of that, too. Wouldn't you?

But at the same time, it was the holidays. You know, ho-ho-ho and mistletoe and the same tired old songs being blared out ceaselessly in every supermarket across the country. Not to be a scrooge or a grinch or any of those unsavory, crabbed characters. It was just that—well, what could I ever do or buy or say to get my wife to relent? To find my way back to some sense of decent normalcy?

Believe me, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to get her. A tropical vacation? Traveling in winter on non-refundable tickets was always risky—and besides, it wasn't like I was wild over the idea of being on the beach in my padded prison. Jewelry? Maybe... but I never seemed to find the right style for her. Sexy lingerie? Come on, this was Christmas, not Valentine's Day! But then again...

Yeah, I finally took a gamble. This present got rave reviews online, and people said it worked wonders for relationships. Women swore they'd kill for it, and heaped praise and adoration on those who got it for them. And for me, it would represent my repentance—my willingness to acknowledge her agency in the relationship—to let her know that she deserved happiness and pleasure that wasn't always tied to me...

I got her a Magic Wand. Plus some super fancy chocolates and a gift card to her favorite shoe store. You know, just for good measure.

If only I'd have known what she was getting me!

How shall I describe that unforgettable morning? Those moments when I realized at last that my wife was fully committed to my new condition, was taking charge of things even more than I'd initially feared? Those heart-sinking moments when I- I first saw those-

"Go on, open it!" Erica urged playfully. I was seated on the floor beside her, my recently soaked night diaper still warm under my pajama bottoms. In my lap was a demure, soft package wrapped in cartoonish holiday paper. "I have no idea what it is," I admitted, slipping my fingers under the seam. "Um... some new handkerchiefs?"

If only.

It look awhile for me to understand what they were. Wait, they actually made such things in adult sizes? "They're perfect for you, Shane!" Erica enthused, pulling the gleaming white plastic bundle from my lap and shaking them out with a deafening crinkle. "Look—plastic pants mean no leaks! And what's better... they've got this adorable little lock, too, see?" I stiffened as I reached over and my fingers felt the links of a steel chain running through the waistband. "See? Now we won't need any more tape!" Erica cheered, gleefully chucking me under the chin. "Come on, honey, you gotta admit they're pretty ingenious, don't you think? Don't tell me you don't like them..."

Of course I thanked her. I wouldn't have wanted her to feel bad for getting such a thoughtful... erm, practical, gift...

She loved the wand, by the way. "Oh my god, this is awesome, Shane! Really—I was just reading about these the other day. Almost got one, too. After all..." And here her eyes twinkled knowingly. "A girl has to do what a girl has to do, y'know? Oh, I bet you'd love to be the one running this for me, wouldn't you?" I felt her hand give my padded, caged crotch a squeeze, and I blushed as her laughter filled the air and I felt the familiar straining within my cage. As a matter of fact, I did like that idea. And at least she liked it, too...

But then I opened up my other gifts.

"It's -it's, um- pajamas?" I wasn't quite sure what to make of the soft bundle of navy fabric in my hands. "Oh, it's better than pajamas!" Erica giggled. "Look—it's a one-piece in exactly your size! Just look at that adorable little bear on the front. And isn't it soft? You'll be so snug and warm in this..." Oh, I supposed I would be, judging by those long sleeves and legs. Hey, at least I don't see a padlock or chain on it... I mused—but then she showed me the fasteners. "Zips up the back and closes with these lovely snaps. See? I don't think we'll have any issues with you trying to wiggle out of your nice thick padding now, will we? Will we, Shawn?"

No, I admitted quietly. I guessed we wouldn't.

And with that, it was over. "Merry Christmas, honey," I smiled, my gut sinking as I now surveyed our two heaps of gifts. In her stash: a Magic Wand, alcoholic chocolates, and the gift card for shoes. All the customary trappings of a confident, mature, sexy adult woman. And for me? An adult coloring book. A warm new set of apparently inescapable pajamas. And plastic pants with their own lock and chain. Never before had I seen such an embarrassing indication of the altered roles and balance of power in our relationship. But even now, I couldn't see any easy way to remedy it.

After all, I had to remind myself. I'd kind of earned it.

"Aww, Merry Christmas, baby!" Erica beamed, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. "Now, let's get you changed so we can get on with our day!"