A Sissy's Progress - Chapter Fifteen

Meh. Food coma. I may be forced to eat like an infant, but I'm still blessed with the after-lunch energy dip that every white-collar office worker knows. Talk about the worst of both worlds.

I yawn, and my pacifier—until now forgotten within my mouth—tumbles free to land beside the keyboard. Huh. Actually, maybe it's not just a grown-up thing after all. Why else would babies and little kids be put down for naps in the afternoon? Makes sense, doesn't it?

Damn, I'm solving all of life's mysteries these days—one at a time, from right here in my crib!

I stare morosely, eyes unfocused and heavy, into the screen. The words dance before me as I wonder absently what Mommy will do to me if I don't actually finish my story before this evening. Enema? Nah, that's too common these days. Take me out in public? She's done that once or so, though not quite like this... Maybe something even worse?

Mommies are supposed to be nice to their babies, I muse pensively. I should be getting hugs and kisses and cuddles, not threats of punishment and force feeding and humiliation.

But then again, a second voice whispers in my mind... since when do real babies ever get a say in how their parent treats them? They just have to lay there and deal with it as best they can...

With that cheery thought in mind, I rub the sleepies from my eyes and set to work once more. Time to make Mommy proud.

***

After that unfortunate riding accident, Erica's treatment of me clearly seemed to become even more peremptory. Remember, I'd already been informed in no uncertain terms that I'd be back in diapers every night for the foreseeable future. After that, with no cage to keep me in check, I was currently stuck wearing them to the office every day as well. But now? Well, it was as if my opinion hardly even mattered any more.

"Shane, put this on." "Shane, your clothes are over here." "Shane, come eat... now." "Shane, you need a change."

She'd recently restocked my dresser drawer with a different type of diaper for some reason—god knows why. I don't suppose she thought I would notice, but I most certainly did. "Northshore," the print on the sides said. No idea what that meant, but I do know that the things seemed quite a bit thicker than the old ones. Thicker... which meant more bulk under my trousers, and even more anxiety on my part that one of my coworkers would finally notice my unsavory secret...

Not that they ever did. At least, not until- No, wait. I'm getting ahead of myself.

It must have been sometime in the first half of December, as the flurries began to swirl and the radios began to blare out the same, tired old Christmas carols, that it happened. The screw-up. The biggest screw-up I'd made since the affair, and the second-biggest of my entire life.

It wasn't intentional, I swear. Every time the thought of Julie came up in my mind, I swatted it away with all the angry impatience we normally reserve for mosquitoes. No. I was married. Julie had been a fling, a regrettable decision. I was on the straight and narrow now, and I needed to stay that way if I ever hoped to earn Erica's trust back.

Funny thing, how dreams and our subconscious don't really give a fuck about our decisions.

She was there, standing before me, glorious and naked and vulnerable... for me. The tips of her rosy breasts were already visibly erect as she smiled sweetly at me, her lips parted in undeniable arousal. And down there, between those beautiful thighs, beneath that soft blush of reddish fluff, I knew she was waiting for me—begging me wordlessly to slip inside, to let her take all of me deep within her...

And then she was turning, arcing downward over the bed in one unbearably graceful motion. Her head tipped back over her shoulder, beckoning me mysteriously with her heart-stopping grey eyes. "Ride me, darling," she was whispering... begging... pleading. And as the lovely curves of her buttocks swayed and danced before me, I felt my own hardness—the burning ache of primal desire—swelling helplessly within me. I was fully erect in that moment, poised to take her. I would- no, I was- plunging deep inside her, feeling her soft warmth so tight and wet and glorious around my engorged cock...

Oh, god, oh yes, yes, yes... Julie, baby, oh yes, oh Julie you're incredible... Yes, yes, yeessss....

It was the second and third slap that really shocked me awake. And as my sleep-encrusted eyes blinked open, the cold fury in Erica's eyes told me everything I needed to know.

***

Yet again I'd screwed up. Badly. Incredibly badly.

Even though a hidden part of me protested that I wasn't to blame for a silly wet dream—that I couldn't be held responsible for the heated fantasies of my subconscious—I simply couldn't bring myself to voice them. I'd already hurt Erica with a real, sustained, deliberate affair, and that knowledge snuffed out every protest I could make, reasonable or not. After cheating on my wife, what on earth made me think I could be excused for doing the same thing again, even in a dream?

It was only a few days later that my new cage arrived. That very evening, as I blushingly spread my legs and felt my wife's cool hands tugging the steel device firmly up around my now-limp cock and flaccid balls, I knew that this time it wasn't coming off. Not for a very long time... if ever.

And then came the diaper.

"Oh, I don't think so," she replied coldly to my timid protest that, since I was caged again for her, maybe I could go without the diaper. "You see, Shane, I'm simply fed up with your nonsense: the cheating, the pissing yourself, your shitty pants." She reached for the roll of clear tape and yanked it firmly open. "I can't trust you to keep your dick for me and only me. I can't trust you to keep your mind off that- that bitch. Hell, I can't even trust you to keep your fucking pants dry—or even clean!"

I stood up resignedly, feeling once more the familiar bulk between my legs, and waited while Erica wrapped my waist with the customary wraps of tape. But she was far from finished with her tirade. "Listen. I'm done being Mrs. Nice, okay? If you're going to stay in this house, buddy, you're playing by my rules from now on."

I didn't have to wait long for her to define exactly what those rules were.

She gave my padded crotch a swift swat. "Cage on that dick of yours until I take it off myself. Diapers at night, so you don't piss all over our bed again. Diapers during the day, since I bet you're gonna be dribbling anyway—and in case you, you know, casually decide to shit yourself again. And of course, the tape to keep you from even thinking about removing them, or trying to take off your cage."

I flushed. Both night and day, no matter what? And taped in the entire time? "Umm, but honey, what if I need to, you know..." "What? Use the toilet like a grown man?" She gave a short laugh. "What do you think, Shane? I clearly can't trust you, and I don't have time to take those diapers off and on and off and on again whenever you think you might need to take a dump." She shoved me back onto the bed and glared down at me. "I suggest you get used to the idea of using those diapers of yours... for everything."

My face must have betrayed my complete bafflement and displeasure. "Oh, don't you even think of complaining, Shane!" Erica tossed the tape back onto the dresser and planted her hands on her hips. "I've explained why I'm doing this, and you're going to get used to it, okay? It's not like having a husband in a stinky diaper is going to be a barrel of laughs for me, either. But there's no other solution, short of filing for divorce. Trust me... I wish there were."

As I, cowed by her cold fury, stooped to pull my trousers back up around my freshly diapered rear, I reflected that I'd better go along with this... at least for now. With luck, and maybe a smelly diaper or two at the worst, she'd cave in. She couldn't possibly intend to keep me like this indefinitely...

Right?