"I don't think you can do it!" My lady's eyes had a daring look in them
as she let the challenge sink in. "You can't last 30 consecutive days
in diapers."My brain, fogged by the wine and more than a little pre-occupied with
the erection between my legs, tried to get a grip on reality.Let me confess. I'm a diaper lover. Ever since I can remember I've
been fascinated by the idea of being in diapers, especially being
confined in them. Lucky for me my lady understands and even cooperates
with me from time to time. This was something different. She was
daring me to spend the next month in diapers, 24 hours a day, seven days
a week, no exceptions allowed."No exceptions at all?" I asked, trying to buy time.She sat back with a grin of satisfaction. She could already sense
victory. She knew I would find the prospect hard to resist despite the
risks. Instead of answering she just shook her head from side to side."What if I want to back out?""That's the whole point. I'll make sure you won't be able to," she
paused to light a cigarette, "but if you want to make it more
interesting we could bet a $1,000 on it."My head was beginning to spin. I should have left the martinis alone.
I quickly reviewed our commitments and decided that despite some hairy
spots it just might work. Then I contemplated the other side of the
coin. None of our friends or our families knew of my little hobby. It
would take a lot of tough explaining if we were found out. Her voice
jerked me out of my contemplations."And I call the shots on accepting or cancelling engagements."That made it more interesting. Those hairy spots were getting more
interesting. My erection, which had rose to attention at the mere
thought of such an experience, decided to exert its full influence on my
inebriated state. Even though it terrified me, I nodded and told her I
accepted."Keep a diary," she said by way of ending the subject. "It will make
interesting reading."DAY ONEBefore beginning this first day of my narrative I should explain to you
that I'm no novice when it comes to this diaper confinement thing. I've
written about and in some cases built a wide variety of interesting
little devices, each of which is intended to make sure that a diapered
adult is relieved of all ability to influence his bound and tormented
condition. I also have a wide assortment of both cloth and disposable
diapers and enough plastic pants to equip a geriatric ward.It didn't take long for Dee to bring the plan into action. Observant of
my impaired condition she drove us home from the restaurant and
immediately sent me to the bathroom to shave my legs and pubic hair. I
wasn't too keen on this but decided not to object too early. There were
worse fates after all.It wasn't until after all the hair had been dispatched down the drain
that it occurred to my soggy brain that the month was July and that
unless I wanted to die of heat stroke in long pants I was going to have
to get used to showing my hair-less legs. A tremor of fear passed down
my spine but my erection became even stiffer.I walked naked into the bedroom to find her in her heels, garter belt,
stockings and a big smile. The diapers lay ready and waiting for me;
two toddler disposables taped end-to-end, a cloth soaker diaper folded
into a narrow rectangle, all laid out on a large flannel diaper. A
clean pair of plastic pants waited near by.I've always experienced a curious reaction to seeing the diapers laid
out like that. It's as if some giant hand is about to cup my lower
regions and not let go. My spirits always go for a spin at the sight
but my erections always rise to the occasion.I looked a little farther and realized that she had prepared the wrist
and ankle restraints that are a permanent feature at the corners of our
bed. This made me gulp."Lie down!" she commanded. Her smile seemed a little colder but I was
getting into the mood of it.I did as I was told.As soon as she had me tied down spreadeagled she began her little
torture routine. First came the cock-ring, tight enough to make sure I
wasn't going to come without her cooperation. A little voice inside me
suggested that I might not be allowed to come at all. First she used
her tongue. It was delicious torture. I love being helpless and as she
did all of her favourite little tricks I lost my apprehension and
swooned with it. Right on cue she stopped the tonguing and mounted me,
letting my hardness slip into her warm wet tunnel until I began to
notice the effect of the cock ring. At first it was bearable. However,
as she increased her stroking and approached her own orgasm my own
hydraulic system screamed out its protest at not being able to get past
the cock ring. I moaned and began to plead with her for release but she
just looked down at me from her high perch and smiled the cruellest
smile I've ever seen."I didn't say anything about you having any fun during the next month,
did I?"I felt my heart sinking. My erection would have followed but the cock
ring had other effects. Losing excitement by the second I was sober and
sore by the time she had finished her fourth orgasm and slumped back to
catch her breath. She glared down at me, all business, "Taking this a
little more seriously now, are we?"I nodded, too dumbfounded for words.Once she had recovered, she removed the cock ring and pulled the diapers
up between my legs and pinned them very tightly. I protested about my
own lost orgasm but she ignored me."I'll tighten them when they get wet and loose," she promised.It was a little detail I had used in many my diaper short stories and it
made me wonder what other little details she had planned for me.Next she released my feet and fitted the plastic pants over my ankles.
By now I was getting scared so I cooperated when it came time to raise
my hips for the final placement. My arms were still tied to the
headboard and I knew she couldn't sleep in the same bed with them that
way.The prayer collar, we hadn't used it in so long that I had almost
forgotten about it. It is quite a simple idea, really. Take a large dog
collar and attach it to a pair of leather cuffs joined by a short
chain. Once installed, the wearer can sleep but is quite helpless about
what is or what is or is not done to his body. She was careful to
release only one of my wrists at a time and she sat on my chest while
she transferred each wrist to the cuffs. I wasn't in any position to
give her a fight. Once this device was secure she stood back to admire
her work."Comfy?" she asked in a teasing tone.I elected to keep silent and just nodded."I told you that I wouldn't let you back out. This is just a sample of
what you can expect over the next month. And by the way, I've been
reading your literature. You really are quite gifted with a sense of
invention. I should have no difficulty following your directions."She left me alone for a few minutes. When she came back, she carried
the oversized baby bottle and it was full of water. Reminding me that
the booze would likely make me thirsty before morning she put it into my
bound hands and advised me to finish it before she decided to come to
bed. It didn't take much of a guess to figure her game but I was
thirsty.DAY TWOWet. I woke up just as the sun was brightening the room. The bottle and
the booze had done their work. I was floating in a sea of pee inside
the ever-efficient plastic pants.What scared me the most was that I could only remember waking up to wet
once. This was the result of more than one wetting. Part of me decided
that I had better get used to it.Sleeping in a prayer collar is not fun. Lying on one's back is the only
comfortable position and that becomes boring in a hurry. I didn't sleep
very well and I was very wide awake at dawn. As was my custom, I got up
carefully so as not to wake her and went to the living room to read.Coffee. How I wanted a cup of coffee! Making it with my hands tied to
my neck presented a whole new realm of challenges. For one thing, I
could no longer reach into the cup-board for the coffee or the filters.
It took a while for me to figure it out but I finally managed it with
the help of a kitchen chair. All in all it took me almost an hour
before the gurgle of the coffee maker signalled success and reminded me
of my own soggy condition.As I listened to the water gurgling through its cycle, I realized just
how helpless I was. I needed to pee very badly but from experience I
also knew that the diapers had taken all they ever would. One more
flood from me and the floors would be the worst for it. I wandered
about for a few minutes trying to stem the tide but I sensed it was a
futile battle. Then I spied a pile of old newspapers near the door and
with a gasp of relief, squatted over them while releasing the waiting
torrent. Sure enough, it was only seconds before a steady dripping
sound signalled that my diapers were beyond capacity.If my hands had been free I would have taken the opportunity to tighten
the cloth diaper and reduce the sagging, but my hands were useless. I
waddled back into the living room, hoping that the drips from my
over-loaded crotch wouldn't stain the carpet.As the coffee maker gasped it's last I realized that sitting down
presented a problem. Our new dining room chairs had cloth seats as did
all the living room furniture. I went back to the hall, grabbed a pile
of newspapers and put them in the living room.I felt very infantile as I carefully sat down on the papers, coffee in
bound hands. I heard the squish of the diaper and felt a new wave of
wetness escape past the protective seal of the plastic pants. I was
hard again and the lost orgasm from the night before wanted release.There was nothing I could do about it and that made me even harder.Reading the Saturday paper turned out to be a challenge. I had to lean
forward and turn the pages with both bound hands. It was hard work and
I found myself reading many articles I normally would have ignored, just
to save the strain on my back.I went back for a second cup of coffee just as the first was finding its
way to my bladder. After years of diaper wearing, I was conditioned not
to restrain my bladder while "bundled" and so it was hard to hold the
water in while I carefully made my way back to my soggy pad of papers.Tired of the paper my now sober mind began to explore the predicament I
had gotten myself into. My computer was full of nasty little ideas for
the confinement of adults in diapers. I had even built some of the
better ones. Dee would have no shortage of toys to amuse herself with.
I glanced down at my bound hands and realized that I was the biggest toy
of all.When Dee finally got up she was in her usual pre-coffee mood. She
stumbled into the living room, took one look at me and mumbled, "There
had better be coffee ready if you know what's good for you."Fortunately there was and she came out and sat at the dining room table
and stared at me while waking up.She stared at me while the coffee did its job. I knew she was coming up
to steam when that same cruel smile began to cross her face."I've really got you, don't I?" she asked rhetorically.I was getting scared and decided to answer only with a nod."Let's see, you can't masturbate, you can't change yourself, you're even
forced to sit on a pile of old newspapers until I decide to make you
comfortable again."Her grin was getting brighter and I was getting more distressed."A bet is a bet, okay?" was all I could think of to say and that sounded
hollow."Oh no, buster. I've waited a long time for this. All your nastiest
fantasies are about to come true!"She wasn't kidding. She gave me my breakfast where I was and then left
me alone while she took a shower. It seemed to take forever for her to
dry her hair and while I was waiting a new thought dawned on me, my
bowels. We hadn't discussed that part of it. If she was serious about
this full-time diaper thing then I had a problem. It's one thing to wet
oneself in public. It's another thing altogether to soil oneself. The
smell gives you away instantly and if you're not careful, the brown
stains leave a trail of embarrassment. I shuddered at the thought of it
all, especially since I felt the need to relieve myself in that way.By the time she emerged all fresh, feminine and desirable in her satin
gown I was getting desperate. Both cups of coffee were leaking out of
me at flood tide and I was beginning to wonder how reliable the papers
could be. I was grateful when she helped me up and took me to the
bathroom."Please," I asked nicely/ "I need to use the potty."Even before the question had left my lips I knew the answer. She
flashed that famous smile and shook her head."No dice. You wanted to be confined in diapers for a month and so you
will be. That means the toilet is off limits for the duration. You'll
be in diapers. Let them take care of it. Now let's get you into the
shower."She turned on the shower, helped me in and let me get wet. Then she shut
off the spray, soaped me down and turned the spray on again. I
marvelled at her ingenuity. I got clean but had no chance to use the
toilet or touch myself. She draped a towel around me and led me to the
bedroom.There is nothing as humiliating as having to watch while one's diapers
are laid out and made ready, especially if one's hands are locked at
neck level and all the delicate parts are fully exposed.She had learned well in the months we had been together. First the
flannel diaper that would cover and bind all else confined within it.Then the soaker panel, actually two infant cloth diapers folded
lengthwise. On top of these went two Ultra's, toddler size infant
disposables, taped lengthwise with a diaper doubler pad on top.Finally came the `penis pad', a toddler disposable cut in half and
intended for placement between the male organ and the abdomen. Two pins
and a pair of plastic pants and she was ready for me.Was I ready for her? This was a `house' diaper, intended for use when
no external clothing would be necessary. It was bulky but efficient.
It was designed to last the day even with excessive amounts of liquid
in the diet. Being Saturday however, it was unlikely that I would be
spending the day indoors and the thought of having that much bulk under
my clothes sent a major shiver down my spine. Then I remembered the
distress in my bowels and true fear set in."Isn't that a bit much for public viewing?" I asked hopefully.I partly expected her cruel little smile but the seriousness of her face
when she replied was worse, far worse."I think it's time you learned the true meaning of public humiliation.
Frankly, I don't care if people stare at you. Now get your butt onto
these diapers before I decide to add a suppository or two for interest's
sake."I didn't feel like testing her threats. I did as I was told and tried
very hard not to show my discomfort as she pulled the very thick padding
up between my legs and pinned it tightly. When I stood up to let her
put the plastic pants on me I knew it was going to be a long day.I took a few trial steps around the bedroom while she rummaged through
her drawers looking for something. I was so preoccupied with the
padding between my legs that I had missed the obvious next step. How
was she going to prevent me from altering her carefully contrived,
tortuous measures?She called my name and I turned around to see her holding up a one-piece
gym suit. I think it's called a leotard. This one was dark blue and
from seeing her wear it I knew it was made of spandex.She helped me into it. I had to step into it like a pair of shorts and
then she pulled it up my legs and my torso until it was time to release
my hands so I could put them through the shoulder straps. It was
already tight but once the shoulder straps added their pull it was
almost unbearable. The entire garment seemed to be designed to do
nothing but pull my super-thick diapers snugly up between my legs. Each
step, every little movement reminded me of my condition in a most
uncomfortable manner.To be continued ...