A Sissy's Progress - Chapter Thirteen

"Time for nummy-nums, baby! Come on, let's get you fed now." And with a soft metallic click, Mommy unlocks my crib latch and raises the wooden bars that have been holding me as her infantile hostage. Funny how such a tiny bit of metal can do such much, isn't it?

"Ooh, you've been hard at work, haven't you?" she coos as I, stiff from my confinement, take my first waddling steps into the nursery. "No, no, you know the rules, sissy! Little babies like you have to crawl to their high chairs." She giggles as I drop to my knees, flushing as I feel the heavy weight of my saturated diapers swaying beneath me. "Yes, indeed! Hard at work piddling your pants as well as writing, huh?" I nod mechanically as I trundle along at her heels out into the hallway and toward the dining room. "Don't worry - I'm sure they'll hold a lot more yet..."

Scarcely a minute later, there I am: an overgrown sissy baby being buckled securely into my feeding chair, the seven-point harness slipping over my frame and pulling me rigid in the padded seat. Once the cuffs have been slipped on, my bib tied, and the tray lowered, I'm exactly as she likes me: helpless, simply a passive body waiting to be stuffed with whatever she decides to spoon into my mouth. How infantile. How humiliating...

And yet how incredibly, unnervingly normal it all is now.

As she shovels spoon after spoon of mush - perhaps squash, carrot and mashed potato, judging by its color and tastelessness - into my compliant mouth, Mommy keeps up an equally steady stream of commentary on my morning's efforts. "I think you've been doing a lovely job with your story, honey," she smiles, even as she thrusts another laden spoon between my messy lips. "Though I do think you will need to start telling us all more about just how nice your Mommy has been to you through all this. We don't want your readers to think I'm being mean to you! And after all," she grins wolfishly, "I could have been so much harder on you than I've been. Don't you agree?"

I can't do more than grunt and gurgle through the spoon-feeding, but that plus a sheepish nod seems to satisfy her.

And finally, when I, stuffed full with my lunch, have been firmly led back into my room, Mommy gives me what I so desperately need: she changes me out of my sodden diapers and into a fresh set, for which I am silently, deeply grateful. Then, locked into my crib once more, I sit up on my strangely dry tush, heave a sigh, and open my laptop. Time to get back to work. There are so many more humiliating details that have yet to be recounted, and I'm certain now that Mommy won't let me rest until I've written them all in excruciating details...

***

Well, what could I do? I'd already slipped deeply under Erica's assertive control. She had me choosing either the cage or a diaper during the day, and now I couldn't even escape the diapers at night. Oh, sure, I'd protested the first night. But once she'd informed me in no uncertain terms that I'd be sleeping on a tarp in the garage if I didn't wear one, I had to give in. Naturally I tried to persuade myself that I didn't really need them, that I was just doing it to humor Erica. And yet the memory of that one wet morning haunted me like a malevolent ghost. What if my dream of peeing wasn't just the extraordinary fluke I wanted it to be? What if I was actually going to start needing them?

And so, in those first few days after that wet bed incident, I swore off the diapers completely during the day. Even a cage and thick training pants were preferable to losing continence - to becoming, horror or horrors, a bedwetter who actually needed the diapers my wife was using to keep tabs on me. Sure, that meant I couldn't have the fun at work I'd been enjoying. But then again, since I was padded but uncaged at night now, I could at least focus on finding sexual release together with Erica...

Funny how my cage chose that precise week to break.

"Oh, dear. This is unfortunate!" Erica was holding aloft the cage she'd been about to put me into for my day at the office. There, just at the top where the hasp and the lock belonged, was a clean break in the pink plastic that so often had held me her captive. "Shane, you didn't- You didn't do this, did you?"

"Of course not, honey!" I was aghast at the idea. Did she really think I'd do something so underhanded? Then again, I had cheated on her... "Honey, I swear I didn't touch it since yesterday! Maybe it just snapped when you set it down last night?"

"It was on the floor, I guess..." She frowned, then tossed it lightly onto the bed. "Well, whatever the case, won't be using that anymore! I'm just glad we have another solution, aren't you?" She stepped to the dresser and withdrew another folded square of plastic and cotton - a sight I now knew all too well.

She'd restocked recently.

"But, I mean, can't we, I don't know..." I trailed off, eyes sliding over to the cage beside me. "Can't we just fix it? Or- or get another?" "Honey," and her tone was amused as, with a flurry of familiar crinkles, she began opening the diaper in preparation - for me. "Are you telling me you'd rather be in a cage than a diaper? Really?" "Well, no, I mean, yes..." I sputtered. "Honey, come on! You know I'd rather be in neither - if you'd let me!"

"And have you slipping off to work and falling into the temptation of shagging another woman? Not a chance," she returned evenly. "So lay down, mister. It's one or the other. That's our deal, and you know it." I sighed as I felt the familiar touch of bulky, cottony softness tugged tightly around me. "Listen: whether or not we get a replacement, it'll be awhile until it arrives. So I'd suggest you just quit pouting about it, okay?" She chuckled and gave the final tape a pat before reaching for the clear packing tape that would seal me away. "It's not like you've never worn one before—or asked me to put you in one, either!"

Well, there wasn't much else I could do, was there? I had agreed to wear one or the other. And when the one was no longer available, it wasn't like I could just renegotiate, right? I'd been asking for a diaper pretty regularly until last week, after all. Until that cold, smelly morning when I'd been brought face to face with the idea that all this might actually have a more lasting effect than I'd imagined...

So, heart sinking, I crinkled off to work, ironically feeling more trapped than ever. Sure, I was free of the cage that had been the bane of my existence these past months. But I was trapped in diapers, at least until we could get another cage for me. It sucked, completely and utterly.

Yet not even that could prevent me from taking my guilty pleasures in the bathroom once more that afternoon. As heated imaginings of bared breasts and whimpers of pleasure filled my mind, I stroked my damp, padded crotch to the point of shivering ecstasy and beautiful, beautiful release...

It was only then in the post-orgasmic glow that, deep in the recesses of my mind, I heard the dark voices of suspicion whispering that maybe, just maybe, the cage hadn't really broken of its own accord.