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Stirrups really are loathsome things. Waiting on a table with your legs splayed open like a turkey waiting to be stuffed is embarrassing enough under ordinary medical circumstances. Being restrained to the table under court order is humiliation on an almost cosmic level.
They used to punish criminals in prisons but those days are over. Someone finally figured out that it made them tougher and was a badge of honor. So some genius decided to try the exact reverse: compulsory tenderness. Thugs and hooligans found themselves confined to oversized nurseries with motherly matrons (and one or two oversized daddies for behavior
problems) where they were kept in a state of regression until they unlearned their aggressive ways.
At least, that was the idea. The success of the idea was as much a matter of pure humiliation as it was of behavior modification. Street toughs found the process so destructive to their sense of self and status that they would do anything to avoid it. . .even obey the law.
In time, the idea was expanded to non-violent lawbreakers until some form of regression was the
expected sentence for convicted felons. This is how
I found myself strapped into stirrups at the local correctional nursery. I had been caught embezzling and convicted.
Six months. I was to spend six months diapered like a
9 month old. As a non-violent offender I was to serve my sentence while free to walk the streets, with an ankle monitor, and a curfew, and a bedtime I had to obey if I wanted to stay out of a full time nursery.
Twice each day I was to report to the nursery for changing. Once a day I would be given an enema. Four times a week I was to be paddled. These paddlings would be given during changing times and would be assigned at random so I’d never know if I was to simply be changed or put over a matron’s lap as well.
At least I got to keep my job despite my pilfering. I kept the privilege of going to work every day with people who knew what I did and what price I was paying.
I reported to the nursery first thing in the morning on the day after my sentencing and was warmly welcomed by Matron Emily (she gently asked me to call her Emy).
I had been assigned to her and she would be overseeing my compliance.
“I have a new baby, how splendid!” Emy cooed as she embraced me in a bear hug that lifted my feet from the floor. She had the air of kindly grandmother but outweighed me by about three stones and I knew I couldn’t resist even if wanted to do so. She led me into a powder blue papered room containing a couple shelves of teddy bears, a few stools, a dresser and a table topped with a jar of cream, a hair brush, a few wide ribbons, some slippers and no door. We sat on the stools, went through a few short paperwork checks then Emy got to her feet.
“Right then, let’s get straight to business. Shall we? We’ll need to get you out of those clothes for a start. Please stand up.”
I got to my feet and my legs felt strangely weak.
They trembled slightly as Emy tenderly helped me to undress. She removed my blouse and placed it, neatly folded, in the dresser. The same was done with my shoes, socks and pants. I stood barefoot and goose pimpled in my bra and panties and found myself unable to look Emy in the eyes.
“You’ll need to remove the rest yourself, dear.” Emy sweetly directed as she sat on the stool and watched me.
I removed my bra and stepped out of my panties then tried to fold them as neatly as I could manage with my shaking hands before handing them to her. She took them and placed them in the dresser before turning to examine me. I almost fainted when she reached out and took a pinch of my pubic hair in her fingers.
“Now, this just won’t do but we’ll fix it later. It’s time for your binky. Open up.”
She held out what looked like a cross between a oversized pacifier and a mouthgaurd. . .soft pink with a loose ring in the front. I allowed my mouth to fall open and she gently inserted it then used her fingertips to softly raise my jaw and bring my teeth together. As soon as my mouth was closed the mouthgaurd part bonded to my teeth so I could not open my mouth although my teeth were held apart. I felt the bulb swell inside my mouth until the soft material filled it from cheek to cheek. Finally, the front part pressed itself down and sealed itself around my mouth. My hands reflexively moved to my mouth and found that the edges of the front completely covered
my lips and then some. And, while the front was made
of a very pliable material, I could not even slightly peel it away from my face. Emy made no attempt to stop me but simply watched me with a syrupy smile until I had finished and my hands dropped to my sides.
I glanced at Emy with beseeching but not expecting eyes.
She had put away my undergarments in the dresser and produced a pair of panties that she held forth for me to step into. I complied and she pulled them up my legs and over my hips as she hummed a little ditty.
They were full cut white cotton panties with little red dots. My hands ran over my backside and found the back panel was made of portentously thin material.
Emy again let me explore my dilemma while she got the ribbons from the table.
“Turn around, dearie.” She said as she motioned her hands.
I nervously suckled on the binky as I willed my bare feet to turn on the soft carpet. Emy then bound my hands together and I found the ribbon was made of some soft material that felt like a small child could effortlessly shred. That was until I tried to pull my hands apart.
“These new restraints are simply marvelous. Perfectly comfy if you stay still but the harder you pull, the stronger they get. And yet the coating still stays nice and soft so as not to injure tender baby’s skin.”
While she said this I watched as she put a stool in the middle of room and got the jar, hairbrush and a slipper as my eyes widened with shock.
It had been many years, not since I was a very little girl, since I had had a spanking. And never had it been with anything other than a bare hand. Emy effortlessly pulled me over her lap and clamped her left arm to my waist so my backside was helplessly exposed. I was already starting to cry.
The hairbrush made contact with no warning. The sharp swat was followed by a second on the other side. It was a while before another fell. It was the first paddling of my life and I was given a few moments to think about what it felt like. My skin felt compressed and a fiery prickling was smoldering over my bottom. My eyes were clamped shut and I was making ragged breath through my nose. I found my knees crossing each other as my body tried to absorb the throbbing pain.
Then the real spanking began. One smack after another fell on each inch of my searing bottom. I was struggling to get away and my legs were kicking the air but I was held resolutely in place as the nonstop chastisement continued until my tears turned into gulping sobs silenced by the pacifier.
Emy then switched from the brush to the slipper and resumed spanking me. The slipper didn’t have the deeper impact of the brush but it stung my already roasting skin. My legs still occasionally kicked out or stomped the floor but I mostly lay limp as my bawling tears wet the carpet.
I don’t know how long she had stopped before I noticed. I just realized at some point that my wrists had been freed and my arms were around her as she held me to her. Her blouse had been soaked by my tears.
She opened the jar of cream and pulled me back over her lap. I eagerly fell into place, desperate for something to cool my blistered bottom. She pulled down my panties and generously applied the cream. She then had me stand up with my panties around my ankles and step out of them before taking my hand and walking me, naked but for the binky, to a nearby room. Though my head was swimming by then and I could barely think I did realized for the first time that there were many people who could see me now and that my spanking had been fully in view to anyone who passed by. I also realized that the cream didn’t seem to be making my bottom feel any better. Emy seemed to have read my mind.
“That cream is wonderful for helping baby girls learn their lessons. It holds in the heat for now and keeps the skin nice and soft for later spankings.”
I whimpered a little at this news as we entered the new room. While it was still colored in soft pastels, it was more of a medical room with a malevolent looking table in the center and what looked like a medium sized generator except for the tubing coming from it. I had no chance to ask what was happening before I was on the table face down. My torso was angled downhill while my legs were kneeling over the end. Straps made of the same material as the ribbons were used to bind me to the table. My hips and thighs were especially restrained to the table which seemed to have molded itself my body and was soft yet rigid everywhere except for some kid of rubber diaphragm under my belly.
Having trussed me so completely, she pulled on gloves and began to apply jelly to my anus. I had started to regain my composure after the spanking and this sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. Adding to the distress was the fact that I now was aware of how exposed I was to anyone passing by. . .as they seemed to be doing on a regular basis. I was trying to protest but the pacifier made my efforts utterly pointless. I was blushing halfway down my chest when I felt the nozzle enter my bottom.
It seemed like a small nozzle and easily slid into place but then it seemed to expand. Rings on each side of my anus widened and then moved together to create a watertight seal. Emy then pressed a button on the machine and I heard it come to life.
She placed a stool by my head and lowered my head support. As the machine began to work, she embraced my head in her breasts.
The machine worked with the mechanical efficiency of a automatic car wash. A hot stream was flooded into my vulnerable body followed by agitating waves. I was then drained and refilled with even more fluid. I soon realized the rubber diaphragm was intended to allow my belly to swell under the increasing aquatic loads. I found myself sobbing onto Emy’s blouse again.
The machine had drained me again and I was bracing myself for a larger load when I heard it make a cheery little tune that got Emy’s attention.
“Ah good, all done. The first one is always the worst. So much naughtiness to clean out.” She chimed as she extracted the nozzle and unbound me. As she helped me up she reached between my legs and pinched my pubic hair again. “Now, let’s take care of this nonsense.”
And so I found myself unclothed and strapped to that table with my feet in the stirrups for all to see.
Emy left me like that for a while whilst she went to get what I knew she would use to remove my poor pubic hair. It started with an old-fashioned razor that she used to remove the surface hair. She sat between my legs and applied a hot towel that she rubbed in small circles for several minutes. I began to grow aroused despite myself as she applied gel over my bikini area and smiled at me as she waited a few minutes for the gel to soak in. Then she started to shave me. Long strokes and short daps wiped away any sign of maturity. She took a long time as she tugged on my most tender parts to assure a smooth shave. I only wished that I could close my legs as I felt my nipples harden.
She then applied the cream. The cream would work its way into the skin where it would dissolve the hair then disable the follicle. One application would leave you bare for a year or two. A second could mean the hair would never grow again. Of course it had to be rubbed in well. Emy applied a substantial layer and massaged it around my swollen and soaking parts taking no trouble to avoid brushing them over and over. I was overwhelmed by shame when I realized I was perilously close to the edge and would have begged her to put her tongue between my thighs if only I could have talked.
“No, no. Maybe some other time if you earn it. For now, let’s get you in your diaper.”
I was released from my restraints but my hands were bound again before I was marched, naked as a jaybird (even more so with my shorn and still very engorged mound on display) to a diapering chamber. On the way we passed through a set of double secured doors marked “secured nursery”.
Viewing the machine for the first time, I almost fainted as I wholly realized I actually was going to spend six months in diapers. The entire place had a lingering aroma of baby powder and oil but the scent permeated this room. It was, of course entirely open to observation. The walls were a pale pink and it had the usual babyish touches of a couple of teddy bears and a rattle. In the center was the diapering machine. It seemed like a well padded examination table, was obviously designed to hold its occupant securely and was currently occupied.
A young man was restrained to the table with an open diaper under his bottom. He might have been in his 20’s but looked pre-pubescent in his state. He had no body hair at all, his hands were wearing mittens that made them useless and his feet were wrapped in some kind of booties that maked him to keep his toes pointed down. He also, of course, had a binky in his mouth. We had entered just as it had finished powdering him. It then brought the diaper up between his legs and sealed it.
When it was done, his matron released him and helped him to the floor. With those booties on, he could only crawl. As he was starting to be led away he noticed me for the first time. As he looked up at me I remembered that I was stark naked and tried to cover myself only to be reminded of my restraints.
Embarrassed as I was, as I saw him crawl away in his fresh diaper, I felt a little less sorry for myself.
Of course now it was my turn. As I watched the boy leave, the machine had sterilized itself and was ready for a fresh occupant. Emy led me to the machine and had me lay down on it. As Emy strapped me in place the table, like the one in the enema room, took a few seconds to mold itself to my body for extra security.
I found myself with my arms overhead, my torso secured and my legs bound to several multi-jointed arms.
“I used to do the diapering by hand and I really miss it. Still, I must admit this does it so well. At least I can set it to manual so I can control the process.” As she said this she produced what looked like a remote control.
She took a seat behind me where she was hidden from my view but could see every inch of me. I heard her click on a button. Fluid was sprayed onto my diaper area and a soft rotating brush began to clean me.
This seemed unnecessary since it was my first time and I didn’t need to be cleaned. But Emy seemed to enjoy watching me writhe as it spent an extended time cleaning between my lips then cleaning my bottom which turned me on far more than I’d care to admit. When it was done polishing me, a light scanned my body before a female voice declared “Size: small, Shape: 7”. My ankles were brought together and lifted up so my bottom rose up a few inches from the table. The machine extracted a diaper on a tray from the wall. I knew it was futile but I still tried to pull away as I saw the diaper slide into place under my bottom.
Another few clicks and a nozzle appeared that sprayed a generous amount of powder onto my bottom. The arms then set me down and I felt contact with a diaper for the first time in decades. It then spread my legs open and sprayed powder over my front. Some more clicks and clamps took hold of the bottom half of the diaper and lifted it up so that it wrapped itself around my bottom and cradled it. Another set of clamps took hold of the front half of the diaper. I knew this was it. I shut my eyes and tried to pretend I wasn’t about to be imprisoned in that diaper.
But Emy wasn’t done playing yet. A few more clicks and a soft cloth began to oil me. Right between my lips. A second brush applied oil between my cheeks with frequent stops at the entrance. Emy seemed to have direct control over them as the first one was tracing my lips with maddening thoroughness and even slipping inside me. I tried to hide that I was about to come so she wouldn’t stop it but she did anyway.
“Now just remember why you want to be a good baby girl for Emy.” She whispered in my ear as I struggled to touch my button to the cloth now inches away.
Another click and the headrest rose so that I was maked to look down at my diaper area. Then the restraints stiffened as if I had been struggling and my legs were spread open wider. The front of the diaper moved up. It advanced with deliberate speed so I could feel each inch press between my legs as I watched my body being imprisoned. The front settled into place on my belly and the back was stretched around my sides until it joined the front. A blue light was shone over the seams that set the adhesive along the entire seam so the diaper became wholly joined. The light was then passed over the waist and leg holes causing the edges to seal themselves to my skin. It was done.
Emy released me from the restraints, brought me to my feet and bound my hands again. I felt the weight of the diaper and the bulk between my legs as I meekly allowed myself to be led away. At least I did until realized that I wasn’t returning to the front area but deeper into the secured nursery. There had to be a mistake. I was supposed to go home now not get put into lock up. I tried to pull away but Emy stopped me at once.
“Now you be good or you’ll regret it. You’ve been a very good baby so far and I want it to stay that way.”
I knew it was hopeless. My head dropped and I submitted to being led away with the hope that it would be corrected soon. We passed through another set of double doors and entered an inmate nursery. I was surprised to see men and women until I realized that sex was simply not an option here and embarrassment is the basis of the system. Cribs were set in the walls around the room and much of the area was set up for play with toys. The inmates were, of course, all diapered and in various states of restraint ranging from simple mittens to elaborate devices enmaking babyish postures. Most had pacifiers although a few particularly docile inmates did not.
I was taken to a rocking chair where Emy made me drink a bottle on her lap as she rocked us. I was then taken directly to a crib were I was placed. Once inside, the bars were brought up and I heard them lock shut. A flat and heavy blanket was lowered in front of the cage that shut out light and most noise.
Exhausted and defeated from the long morning, I curled up under the blanket and cried myself to sleep.
I couldn’t tell if I had slept for minutes or hours but I was woken by the need to use the girl’s room.
It wasn’t very bad and I could have ignored it for a while except that I remembered that I couldn’t go to the girl’s room since I was wearing a diaper. And I was locked in a crib. Under a blanket. In a correctional nursery.
I touched my diaper for the first time. The seams were perfectly sealed. I tried to pull at the shell but it was far to tough for me to tear or even warp despite being buttery soft to the touch. The inside lining was soft against my skin. The problem was the filler. It was made of some semi-solid gel that made the diaper about an inch thick. Unless I wore very loose skirt, there was no way I’d conceal this thing.
And, while it wasn’t actually heavy, it did weigh enough to be a constant reminder of it presence. And it was just waiting for me to wet myself. I rubbed the outside of the diaper and found that, between the thickness of the filler and the give of the shell, I couldn’t play with myself through it. Desperately horny from the teasing, I tried to slide my hand inside the diaper and found that I couldn’t get past the seal. The glue holding the diaper to my skin was as strong as that sealing the seams. A quick check of the leg holes found them just as impervious to my attempts.
And I still had to go. It was getting worse. I knew that I’d have to give in and use that diaper in due course but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I sat back against the rear bars of the crib to rock myself and try to hold it in.
Then a small light clicked on over the crib. It was a dim light but I could see around. As I rocked myself and examined the baby bears decorating the walls the light got brighter. When Emy lifted the blanket I realized that it was to let me get used to the light before the blanket was lifted and the daylight flooded in. She lowered the bars and took me to the feeding area where she spoon fed me lunch. It was halfway through the peas that I did it. I hid my face as I wet my diaper there where dozens of people could see.
Emy held me as I broke down again.
After lunch, I was taken back to the diapering machine. The wetness added noticeable weight to my diaper as we walked. As I passed a clock, I saw that it was evening and I had been there for almost twelve hours. After I was strapped down, the machine scanned my diaper before it cut it open.
“It checks for tampering before each change. Pray it never finds any.”
I was cleaned for real this time, powdered and sealed into a fresh diaper. I was then, with a breath of relief, led back to the first room where Emy sat me down for a talk to explain the rules.
“We always keep our new babies locked up until their first changing. This is to let you know what will happen if you break a rule so if you ever think you don’t like being free to go home remember what will happen. Also, I like to see it when a baby wets for the first time. It’s such a special moment. I don’t think you’ll be a bad girl so I just let you nap most of your time away but do know that it can be much worse than that.
“You are to report here for a diaper change and enema every morning at 8:30 and a second change every evening at 8:30. Do not be late. You never know when you’ll also be paddled so be sure to schedule extra time for it. You are to be home every night by 9:30 so be sure to hurry home when you leave here tonight.
And you are to be in bed by 10 where you will stay without exception until 6. Also, you will put your binky in your mouth before going to bed. It will automatically release in the morning. . .just don’t accidentally put it in before bed or you’ll be stuck with it until the next 6 AM. You will be monitored and, if you so much as fall out of bed by accident, it will be a violation so I’d get some rails if I were you. Further, you are allowed no smoking, alcohol, restricted movies or any right or privilege that requires you to be a legal adult. And you are absolutely not to tamper with your diapers.
“A first violation means you’ll spend two days as an inmate. A second means a week and it will be doubled for every violation thereafter. And you will serve all inmate time you earn even if it goes beyond your set sentence. I should note, very few go six months without a violation since we are so strict. You be very careful, then.
“This being your first night, you will be sent home with your binky in place where it will stay until the morning. You should also know that we will be monitoring you for your safety as well as your compliance. We are responsible for you while you are my baby. Anyone who so much as grabs your bottom will find themselves in one of our cribs for a long time.
Now, get dressed and I will see you in the morning dear.”
Emy walked out. Now, I am on my own to get dressed and leave alone. I can barely get my pants to close over the bulk of my diaper. I will need to get some new clothes tomorrow. For tonight, I will walk home past crowds of people who might not touch me but would see my disgrace. Tomorrow, I have to return here for a fresh diaper and maybe a paddling then I have to go to work and look into the eyes of people I betrayed.
Tonight, I will sleep with my teddy in a bed I can’t leave. I wonder how I’ll get to the bathroom? Oh, right. I won’t have to worry about that for a long time.
Why can’t I stop crying?
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