A Sissy's Progress - Chapter Fourteen

Ugh. I feel absolutely sick to my stomach from all that food. I guess lying on your tummy after such a big meal isn't quite the best play, is it?

And so, mattress crinkling, I roll onto my back, feeling the soft—and already damp once more—bulk of diapers yielding beneath my weight. I feel fat. Bloated. Chubby. Mommy's been feeding me well, and it's not like I really get a lot of exercise in this state. I've even heard her giggling to a friend of hers recently about how big her chubby sissy baby is getting - how round his cheeks are now, how thick and chubby his legs...

Why do the very words that form nothing but compliments for an infant become such a horrible blow to an adult's ego?

I'm not a sissy baby, really, I tell myself. I'm simply a grown man who is being treated in this revolting way. Actions don't really make you into something else, after all. If someone makes me stand in a clay pot, I don't become a ficus plant. If they wrap a collar around my neck and tell me to bark, that doesn't make me a Rottweiler, right?

No, of course not. But, when I actually comply, it does make me an idiot.

Yep, that's me: the diapered, sniveling, pathetic little sissy baby idiot who deserves every bit of cheek-inflaming shame that comes his way. For not only did he give his wife every reason to loathe and despise and treat him this way, but he actually acquiesced in every step of this treatment. If that isn't laughably pathetic, I don't know what is...

Oof. My bloated tummy is back to gurgling, its growing pressure an appropriate accompaniment to the story I'm about to tell. What a lovely little chapter this is going to be!

***

It was Black Friday—the day after Thanksgiving. I remember it well. Erica and I had taken advantage of the short break and headed up to the mountains, there to escape the madness of holiday shoppers and simply to enjoy the idyllic calm that only a wilderness could provide. Oh, we weren't backwoods experts by any means. But we both knew our way around horses, and we both had camped and hiked plenty of times before. So what better way to unwind than to pick your way through the woods astride a lovely bay?

"Pretty view from here." I heard Erica's voice tinged with amusement from behind me. It struck me as a strange thing to say, here amid the pines. It wasn't like we had reached the top of the ridge yet or anything- "So nice and plump and soft-looking. I bet it makes the ride softer too, hmm?" I winced. "Shh, Erica! You don't have to be talking about, you know..." "What, about your diaper?" She snickered and trotted up beside me even as I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder.

"Honey, we're in the middle of the freaking mountains. We're half an hour's ride from the nearest cabin. I highly doubt you have to worry that folks are going overhear me, let alone size up that butt of yours and notice your special underwear. Okay?" I blushed and ducked evasively beneath a low-hanging bough. "Hey, you never know." And then after a few moments' silence, I relented. "But... yeah. It does kind of help with the bumpiness."

"Aha, I knew it!" Erica was laughing openly now. "Not to mention, it must be so nice not to have to worry about finding a bathroom, hey? Just, you know... relax... Just like you do at night now..." God, it must the fresh air addling her brain and making her like this. I could have denied it—corrected her—reminded her that I had actually only wet the bed once. But what good would it have done? Any protests to the contrary would have just egged her on, just as if she was some hyperactive kid.

And here I was the one in diapers. Talk about ironic.

It was a lovely ride, really. We got to take in plenty of scenic overlooks, watch dozens of birds flitting about their birdy business, and once even caught sight of what could only have been a fox. (Which, naturally enough, set us both off asking what it actually is that the fox says.) It was almost as if we were a happy young couple again, carefree and thoroughly caught up in the delight of one another's company...

Except for the fact that I felt my padded ass crinkling with every lurch of the horse beneath me. Not to mention the growing pressure and urgency in my belly.

Yeah, about that. You see, we'd had a great Thanksgiving dinner the day before: turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, pie, the works. Erica might have had her faults, but her cooking abilities were not among them. And of course I'd loaded up, burping companionably, and thanked her sincerely for such a good meal.

Unfortunately for me, all that food was still inside me. And after a good twenty-four hours, it was ready to move onward and out.

"Honey..." We'd been riding for what seemed like an hour at least, heading back to the trailhead through scrubby pines and birches. "We'll be back soon, right?" Erica, now in the lead, cast a bemused glance backward over her shoulder. "Maybe, I don't know. Why? Is something wrong, babe?"

I shifted uneasily in my saddle, feeling my gut gurgle ominously yet again. "No, not- I mean..." I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. "Actually, yeah. I really have to use the bathroom, you know..." "But you're all prepared for that, honey!" Erica winked. "What, so now you're shy about making a little tinkle in your pants? After all this time?"

Dammit, she was really going to make me say it, wasn't she?

"Um, no, it's just... I need to go, like, the other way," I muttered in embarrassment. "Bad." Erica reined up, her face alight with sudden comprehension. "Ooohh, I see! That kind of bathroom use, hmm?" She appeared to muse a bit, then shrugged suddenly. "Welp, nothing to do about it right now, babe! Surely a grown man can wait until we're back at the lodge..."

Oh, if only that were the truth.

I didn't mean to, really. I was sure that I'd be able to hold it, painful as it might be. But then there was the wrong turn we took, and the rough bit where we had to dismount and lead the horses... and at last, when I was least expecting it, my mare shieing at a grouse that burst out almost underneath her hooves.

"Whoa, easy there!" Erica was calling behind her, attempting to soothe my horse as it pranced sideways. As for me?

I was frozen in place, feeling the sudden rush and warm pressure of my own fecal matter as it erupted beneath me and expanded softly through the seat of my already damp diaper.

***

"Shane, please, it's-" "Shut up," I snapped. There was the lodge at long last, slowly appearing through the undergrowth. And here I was, bobbing up and down in my saddle, as with every single step of my horse the leather beneath me rose up and slapped my thoroughly poo-covered backside within its soiled and clearly well-filled diaper.

I was, as you might put it, shit out of luck.

With no spare diaper in sight, a three-hour drive home, and a concerned yet still-grinning wife beside me, I already knew it was going to be one hell of a ride back. The windows went down—out of necessity. The painful silence grew. The miles slipped by, even as the pressure mounted yet again within my still-churning gut...

And so, it was finally a relief when Erica burst out laughing and shook her head in sheer amazement. "Holy shit, Shane. I guess you really need those things more than I thought!"