(Note: This one is a bit different then my others. Rather then have a regular narrative, I instead have a series of settings with the story hopefully coming through. This is because its supposed to be the character remembering what happened to him, and since memories tend to be more general and less detailed I thought it would work. Please let me know if it does.)
(Also, this was meant to go along with an image linked below, with permission from the artist. I couldn’t find any rules about posting links to picture, so if that is an issue, let me know.)
Alex struggled in his binds. Stuck in a diaper and dress, gagged with an oversized pacifier, and with a bright red ribbon wrapped around, he could do nothing but wait. He supposed that was what he was a Christmas present for someone. The only question was for whom.
It was a question that had haunted him since the day he arrived at the training institute. Like everyone, he knew there was someone paying for him. Like most, he had no idea who they were, when he’d see them, or what they intended to use him for.
There were several reasons someone could end up in the institute. A scant few were volunteers- people choosing the submissive lifestyle, often for a kink, or out sheer laziness, giving up freedom to be guaranteed food and shelter rather then work their entire lives and risk homelessness. This, in Alex’s opinion, was a poor trade and a worse excuse for a career. Others seemed to think they eventually be guaranteed a place their anyway, and so volunteered. The advantage there was that they could at least pick the manner of their submissiveness, and have some control over who their eventual master was. Had Alex known that would be necessary for him, he’d have taken that route. He shifted uncomfortably in his binds, his arms getting stiff, and his diaper beginning to chaff his spanked bottom. He definitely would have.
Alex, for himself, was one of the many who had been chosen against their will. Some of them had obvious reasons for going. They had committed clear crimes, were put on trial, and plea-bargained out of jail or were sentenced directly. They stood out at first in the first days at the institute. Trying to look tough, with tattoos on their arms and glares on their faces, until they realized this just made them all the more ridiculous.
Alex was in a final category- those who had no idea at all why he was brought. He had simply went to bed one night after drinking at a bar, blacked out, and woken up already locked and dressed in the institute, with his form of submissiveness and master chosen for him. Many had similar stories, or were dragged from public places kicking and screaming, or got into cabs that went in completely the wrong directions… There was a long list. They were usually given a explanation. Vague allegations of minor crimes, poor behavior, a likeliness of future crimes or failures, internet search histories, having failed some kind of government test- there were plenty. Alex had a mix of these, with the same accusations of brattiness and immaturity that most who ended up in diapers got. They may be true, he knew, but he tended to believe the rumor that the institute simply needed to sell certain number of submissive to operate and did what was necessary to keep going. The government turned a blind eye and the public kept silent less they be chosen- they were fulfilling a needed service, anyway. For Alex, it was hard to argue. They seemed to know everything about him, and his trove of ‘secret’ stories about similar kinks was brought up time and time again as a reason. Whether they knew about them when they grabbed him or coincidently found out after searching was beyond him.
Alex moaned inwardly thinking of it. The struggled slightly, hearing the tissue paper and his diaper rustle, then stopped. He glanced at the paddle beside him. Tauntingly cute looking, but sharp and painful, he had been given a taste of it earlier and threatened with more if he woke anyone up. He was a Christmas present, and just like any other gift supposedly from Santa Clause, he would not be seen until morning. Waking them up would spoil the surprise, and he had been trained to obey.
That training itself had been a nightmare. When he first woke up that day long ago, he had no idea what was happening. He had woken up slowly at first, feeling a slight headach, then bolted up when he noticed he was in a strange room surrounded by bars.
“No” he had thought, “it can’t be…”
IN reality it was obvious- he had long known about the training program, and that the diapered subs were one of options, but like most, he had never thought it would happen to him. When it did, he did everything in his power to deny it to himself.
He had quickly glanced down at himself to see he was dressed in bright pink footed pyjamas and a bulky object he later realized was a diaper. He tried to scream out, only to find his mouth full of something he later realized was a pacifier. He tried to remove it, only to find his hands were wrapped in thick, fingerless mittens, leaving them useless. He looked around himself, and confirmed his suspicions. The bars he had once thought were for a cage were in fact part of a crib, and the room was a giant nursery, decorated cutely, with a changing table, high chair, and toys all clearly intended for him. A pit had begun to form in his stomach.
A woman, not much older then Alex, came in beaming. He still remembered the first words she said. “Hello, how’s my little baby doing?” She spoke in a sweet, familiar voice, as if he truly was a baby girl and there was nothing strange at all with him being there.
The rest of the day had followed suit. He was offered no explanation and given no chance to ask for one. He was carted helplessly from humiliation to humiliation, unable to get out of the arms, baby harnesses and strollers that held him, and unable to speak with the pacifier in his mouth, only leaving it for feedings.
That day he wasn’t even treated as a sub, but simply as a baby. Spankings or other punishments weren’t necessary yet- he was too restrained and bewildered to fight, he was simply there to learn his place. He was fed, talked to in baby gibberish or simply ignored, and changed. THAT was a memory that had stuck with him, not because of the teasing or punishment, but because of the lack there of.
“Do you smell something?” one has said calmly.
“I think the baby has a stinky butt” the other replied with no sign of surprise.
Alex was bent over, his onesie undone.
“Yep,” then, in the high pitched joking voice used for infants, “has the baby made a stinky? Does she need to get her butt changed? YES SHE HAS! YES SHE DOES!”
The lack of mocking and teasing had made it seem all the worse, as if it was something natural that should be expected. The truth was, as he would learn, it soon would be. As Alex was lain on the floor in a main hallway and changed as the pair in front of him talked on as if nothing was wrong, he had even begun to wonder if he really was a baby, and the last few decades of his life were some bizarre dream. It seemed a better option then being a submissive.
The real training had started the next day.
Alex shifted again, and tried to pull his arms at least a bit loose. This position was far from comfortable, and his back was getting sore. He wondered what it said about his new masters that he was to be found this way. Did they know how uncomfortable it was? Did they want him to be sore? An answer either yes or no could mean a lot.
Of course, the fact that he was chosen as a sissy baby said a lot as it was.
There was something of an unspoken hierarchy at the training institute. It depended a lot person to person, but their were some general rules that could be said depended on the harshness, or embarrassment, related to the job.
At the top were the merely unstated submissives. They were there to serve, with no real, and as long as they behaved were treated well. After that came the ‘animals,’ either work horses intended to pull their masters around or pet kittens and puppies, they were treated well, if condescendingly. Then came the punishment subs, there to take spankings, be degraded, and tied for their masters pleasure.
Underneath them all were the babies. Some could live pretty good lives and be treated well, finding themselves essentially just living to be cuddled and coddled, but that was often not the case. It was hard to feel any sort of pride when all others were baking away from the smell of your diapers. Alex was the lowest from of these. Not just a baby, but a sissy baby and a punishment sub at that. He had become well acquainted with rope and paddles while there, and the diapers and dresses simply added a whole new level of humiliation.
Alex pondered slightly. As most had guessed, if that is what his masters wanted, it did not bode well for him. Whoever was paying want him degraded as much ass possible. Most ended up living essentially as their training had done. Some, however, were lucky. They were punished and trained to a low level then brought to their masters as if being rescued, receiving love and affection, and forming a strange form of bond from the knowledge of what they were being kept from. Others got the exact opposite. Even within the categories, the harshness, strictness and length of training varied. Some masters wanted subs with fight left in them that they could spank out over time. Others would switch their subs theme upon arriving, leaving the poor, bewildered submissive confused and having to go through training again. The ones that Alex pitied the most were, ironically, barely even punished at training. Their masters wanted the opposite idea then the rest received. They were praised, given freedoms, and given rewards to build up a sense of pride that the masters could have fun breaking. They were often even given authority over the other submissives, who were told to keep mum about the poor fools fates. Sometimes they’d come back with their masters later, tears streaming down their faces, their pride shattered, their delusions gone as they were laughed at by the ones they had looked down on. Alex himself had been spanked by a few confused submissives only to later see them crawling around In diapers themselves, now bigger bawling babies then anyone, their pride making the fall all the worse. Somehow they never seemed to learn until it was too late.
Alex groaned at the binds and his stiff muscles. He was beginning to feel hungry again. How long had he been there? He would have thought it was only one night, but there were no windows, and it felt like a lot longer. He prayed his masters were in the kindest category, hoping for him to see them as some kind of saviors, but he craved being untied whether or not they were. It was more likely that he was meant to be the baby he was dressed as anyway. This could still mean different things, as rumors always came back about what the babies got in the outside world. Some were treated merely as that, infants for their ‘parents’ to take care of, nothing more. Some existed for humiliation, spending long nights tied in messy diapers and over laps getting spanked in public. Some were there to work and please their masters, their clothing adding a form of mocking comedy to otherwise adult tasks. Some lived for pleasure, receiving toys and other benefits, others were deliberately denied it, being brought close to it then returned to whine and moan in their diapers. Some lived to train people to take care of real babies, used for diaper changing demonstrations, some were mascots for small sports teams and organizations or public draws to restaurants and game rooms. Others still were even given to younger people, treated as playthings, live in dolls for the amusement of children. Most did not know what it was going to be until they got there. He shuddered at the thought, and prayed it was one of the better ones.
He tried to think of the cruelty of someone who would subject him to it. Could he really blame them though? He had, after all, written all those stories… but those were fiction, not reality… was there a difference? Yet there he was, an adult, diapered, sissified…
The training varied from person to person, but for babies there were some general themes. The life in a nursery, the wearing diapers, and being given toys were all common. Most were fed, and most were taught to use their diapers. Some were deliberately made incontinent, being given pills and hypnosis to render them diaper dependent. Alex avoided this, though you never would tell from watching him. A messy diaper around his waist was a common theme in his life.
Like all babies, he slept in a crib, and was taken care of like a baby in his ‘home.’ This home was the residence while he stayed in the institute. As usual, he was the only baby there. The other themes were represented similarly, there were pets, work animals, slaves, sissies, and other kinds of submissives, but rarely more than one or two of each at a time. There were also groups of non submissives who went in and out of living there like a hostel, and more still that came by and paid to gawk and laugh. They usually paid to see due to their own sadistic kinks or schadenfreude, and the fact that they beleived the people there had earned their punishment made them all the more vicious in their laughing and teasing. This was for a serious, if subtle reason. If the submissive felt rare, and they were constantly faced with a new group of people, it kept the helplessness and embarrassment of their situation fresh. As had been explained to Alex, the reason a sissy male was embarrassed to be in a dress was because men didn’t wear dresses. If Alex had spent his life surrounded by other sissy babies, eventually it wouldn’t seem to be strange at all.
From the ‘homes,’ the submissive would be taken daily to training, this time along with the similarly dressed brethren. As a sissy baby, Alex would join a long and often smelly line of grown adults in diapers, feeling absolutely ridiculous as they were paraded, all holding a rope like children, toward class.
Once there, they were trained as a group, with variations for their individual master’s desires. They would be given kindergarten like classes on basic subjects to reduce them and bring their thinking to that of a babies. Sometimes they’d deliberately be given fake information, being forced to learn math wrong or memorize a made up alphabet. They’d then be tested on it, and have their place hammered home when they failed tests seemingly made for children.
From there it was more kink related training. They’d be taught to be submissive, with a long list of humiliating and painful punishments, from spankings and being tied up, to more childish such as time outs and mouth soaping’s. They were trained to behave as their masters wanted, forced to crawl around, play with children’s toys, and mess their diapers. They were even trained to act up from time to time, practicing throwing tantrums or acting as brats. Some were slowly rendered incontinent, some were given potty training which was deliberately made impossible, then told they were in diapers because they failed, and others were simply ignored until they messed themselves, and at times kept in them until they were used to the feeling. Whatever a master wanted, he could get, and the trainers bet their careers on making it happen.
Alex wasn’t given a chance. There was no effort to untrain or to pretend to train. This, he figured, meant whoever he was going to meet in the morning wanted someone who was able to control their functions, but still used to diapers. Did that mean they intended to some kind of joke potty training routine? Was it meant to be successful, with him finally getting out of the childish undergarments, or not? Would they go the opposite route, subjecting him to hypnosis and bizarre diets? He doubted that one, if they wanted that they could have done it already. There was a chance they’d keep him in diapers but let him use the toilet, or present themselves as the saviors of the degradation he had suffered… It was possible, and he hoped for it, but he had learned not to hope for too much. Something told him that wasn’t the case. The most likely was that they’d keep him in some variation of what he had before- continent, but with no way to tell that based on what he wore (or, he thought blushing, he smelled like), giving them control over when it happened and whether or not he’d be punished… he shuddered.
What else could tell him what to expect?