A Sissy's Progress - Chapter Ten

Phew. I guess that's what they in the writing business call a cliffhanger, isn't it?

Not that I was really trying for it. It's just that I need a change of position, almost as badly as I need a change of pants. Squish. I sit back up onto my saturated diapers, feeling cool trickles against my skin as I do so and wondering absently if the plastic pants are going to hold up. It's not my business if I leak, though, and honestly at this point I'm beyond caring. If I, the helpless little sissy baby, do end up leaving a soggy patch for Mommy to clean, so much the better.

After all, it's the one absurdly petty way in which I can get back at her.

But I'm not writing about Erica the Mommy. Not yet. I'm writing about Erica the wife, Erica the seductress, Erica the woman who was only beginning to sense dimly the intoxicating rush of power that commanding her husband would bring her...

Yes. That's the Erica I see in my memory now. It's her that I want to memorialize, too - not only to do her justice, but also, I suppose, to explain my own predicament. It's selfish of me, I know. But I need to explain—to myself as much as to my readers—how it was that she managed to coax me into such a state, how she wheedled and commanded and twisted me so inextricably around her fingers...

Simple. She exploited my weak spot: sex.

***

I don't suppose my dear readers have ever experienced the sort of confinement I was in at that point, have you? Very well. Try not touching yourself for a week. Not one bit, not even accidentally. Then do that for another week. And another. And then another after that. Keep going until you've not had anything remotely close to masturbation—let alone sex—for maybe eight or nine weeks straight.

And now, imagine your beloved partner offering to free you from your torment. Not just for one night, but forever. You'll be free to touch and grind and fuck yourself silly... as long as you wear just one little thing for them.

Yeah, I don't think you'd fare one bit better than I did.

Erica's eyes were dancing with suppressed mirth that evening as I struggled out of my work clothes. "Aww, is hubby feeling a little horny already?" she teased, lifting the folded padding once more from my dresser drawer. "It certainly looks like you're in a rush for something..." "Just get the key," I growled as the thick training pants landed unceremoniously on the floor. But Erica, smiling once more, plucked them up and poked at them tentatively. "Hmm, a bit damp still," she murmured, before tossing them lightly into the hamper. "But hey! That's not going to matter one bit once we get this on you, is it?"

Damn, it felt so odd once that little key had turned in the lock and the dastardly plastic cage—my constant companion for the last two months—finally slipped free. How bare it all felt. How light. How strangely loose... and flaccid. "You know, to hear you whine I'd have thought you'd be cumming within minutes of the cage coming off!" Erica seemed amused to see how limp my cock was, dangling between my bare, hairy thighs. I flushed hotly. "It's just because of, of, you know-"

"This?" And she, now openly smirking, began unfolding the diaper before my eyes.

I eyed the thing in trepidation as it began to unfurl and grow in her hands. Christ, I had had no idea these things would be so big—and noisy. "Okay, I think we'll need to lay this on the bed first," she observed. "And then have you climb up and lay down on it. Yeah. That's pretty much how they did it in the video..."

"Video?" I was nervously clambering onto the bed when the meaning of her words hit me. "Wait, you were, like, looking up stuff online about this?" "Well, duh," Erica shrugged, pushing me unceremoniously down onto the crinkling monstrosity. "I've never dealt with diapers this big before, you know! Nothing like a little YouTube tutorial to help out..."

Well, then. What shall I say? Did some dark premonition flash through me as my wife, for the first time ever, began to tape me into an actual diaper? Did the heavens open and lightning flicker in ominous foreboding? Did I suddenly spot my diapered future revealing itself before my horror-struck eyes?

Not at all.

It was a diaper. A medical-grade disposable, none too expertly taped. I shivered a bit at the idea, though it felt soft enough around my now-hardening penis. Yeah, thanks, ol' buddy. Better late than never, huh? I was blushing, of course—certainly once Erica began giggling under her breath.

"Hey, enough of that!" I snapped, even as I felt my cheeks reddening. "We made a deal, honey. And you know, even though I haven't the slightest idea how you think sexy times will work while I'm wearing this, I'm still going to hold you to your word!" "Of course, baby," she told me sweetly, handing my pajama pants to me with an innocent smile. "But please, let's eat first, okay? Aren't you hungry? I made your favorite lasagna, too..."

Well, fuck me. Or rather, don't—because I was too busy pulling on my pajama pants and crinkling off to the dining room in my brand-new, ahem, undergarment.

Even now I can recall that evening's array of wild and novel sensations. The lasagna was great, of course, but not even the best lasagna in the world could distract me from the incredible sensation of my dick's unaccustomed freedom. Of the cottony padding swaddling my nether regions. Of the unfamiliar bulk beneath my ass. Of the thickness and crinkle between my legs as Erica pulled me from my seat and led me back to our bedroom, there to have her way with me.

I say her way, because that was precisely what it was.

Oh, I climaxed, all right. I'd never in a thousand years imagined how I, a grown man, might cum while wearing something as shameful and incongruous as a disposable adult diaper. And yet, I did. Not even a saint could have borne with the tension that two months of abstinence bred in a man. And once Erica slipped into that sexy lingerie of hers—once she pushed me back onto our shared bed—once she began kneading the quietly crinkling front of my new garment—well, there was only one natural result.

"God, Erica, yes, yes, please- Oh, Christ, yes, I'm gonna- I'm, I'm-"

It was only once the grinning Erica had headed back out to clean up the dishes that I, in my post-coital clarity of mind, began to reflect on what had just happened. To coin a phrase, I'd slipped out of the cage and directly into the diaper. And while I might still be able to reverse that humiliating change and nix these crinkling absurdities once and for all, they were currently my only shot at being out of chastity. And quite frankly, there was nothing I loathed more vehemently than the idea of letting Erica slip that torture device of a cage back over my now-flaccid penis...

Perhaps if I begged nicely... perhaps if I used my tongue well—in many ways... Perhaps then Erica would relent and not make me wear those things after all...