Baby Cage (7 page)

“Okay honey, let’s get some food in you,” she told me and reached out for my hand. I still only had on the diaper. I glanced around, expecting more clothes, but neither of them paid any attention to my quizzical gaze.

When I didn’t move fast enough, Kayla took my hand and pulled me off the changing table. My bare feet hit the thick carpet, only my muscles couldn’t handle my weight and I tumbled down onto my hands and knees.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, looking up. I tried to push myself up, harder this time. It took an extraordinary amount of effort, as though I were lifting hundreds of pounds rather than my lithe frame.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, it’s just a side effect from the collar.”

I doubted it was so much a side effect as its intended purpose. Within another three or four seconds, I managed to force myself back onto my feet. There was no choice now. I had to crinkle my diaper as I brought my legs together. The thick material between my legs left me flustered, but with Seth and Kayla right there, I had no choice but to endure this indignity.

Kayla pulled me out of the room and back down the hall for something to eat. I imagined them cutting up little hot dogs for me. Also, I doubted I would be allowed a fork or knife. As I waddled after my professor turned babysitter, I tried to brace myself for whatever else they had planned. When we passed the front door, I glanced at it longingly, wishing I could just step outside.

We passed the kitchen which confused me. Kayla instead took me over to the living room where she had me sit down. “Be a good girl and wait right here,” she said, leaning forward and reverting back to her preschool teacher’s voice.

Kayla left me there. I froze, wondering if I shouldn’t try to make a break for it. Once or twice, I tensed my muscles and started to lift myself from the couch cushions. But then I felt and heard the sound of my diaper and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t simply rush outside dressed like this. I would look too absurd, too bizarre.

Trapped by indecision and hesitation, I waited even as I listened. Kayla was humming gently, the sounds wafting back into the living room. I heard the microwave come on as it heated something. Again, my stomach tightened with hunger.

As I waited, I peeked down at my crotch. Part of me still couldn’t believe it. How did this happen? How did they do this to me? I longed to reach down and tear away the tape. The diaper was snug and warm, but I wanted it off. Every movement proved to be another reminder of what happened.

Finally, Kayla returned and I peeked up. My eyes widened. “You’re kidding. C’mon, please, the diaper has to be enough.”

“It’s not,” she assured me with a condescending grin. She wiggled the baby bottle. The diaper seemed bad, but getting fed with a bottle? No, I couldn’t do it. I refused. As Kayla approached, holding it out for me to see, I started to scoot back. Before long, I backed myself into the corner of the couch.

With nowhere to go and too weak to run, I bolted my mouth shut. But Kayla had a strategy to use against me. Why change it when it worked so well the first time? Holding the bottle with one hand, she pulled out her phone again and clicked another picture.

“Oh! This one is really cute! You’re all pouty,” she said and turned the phone around for me to see. With my arms locked across my chest and my hair pulled back into a ponytail, I really did look like a baby. The diaper was clear. Anyone who saw this would think I wanted to dress this way.

“Please, don’t make…” I whined, knowing that I had already lost.

Kayla must have realized it as well. She sat down and patted her lap. It took me a moment to realize what she wanted. Even then, I refused for several more seconds. “It would be a shame if your other teachers saw how you have to wear diapers.”

“I don’t.”

My professor just smirked back at me. I noticed a mean girl viciousness in her expression. Sadistically, she loved my humiliation. She loved seeing me brought low like this because I had no choice. Again, I crawled across the lap. I was going to sit on her lap, but Kayla clicked her tongue, shook her head, and helped me lay down across her thighs.

With my back pressed against her legs, I stared up at her and felt my legs swing uselessly against the air. “Open up for your ba ba,” she told me, lowering the bottle of milk. I wanted food. I wanted to eat like a grownup, only Kayla must have guessed my thoughts, “This is what babies drink. And who’s a baby girl?”

“I’m an adult!”

“No,” she said with an exaggerated shake of her head, “You’re cute and you’re in diapers. Who’s cute? Who wears diapers? That’s right!” Kayla didn’t wait for me to respond, “Babies are cute and wear diapers, just like you. So you must be a baby girl! And so pretty!” She pinched my cheek again. I wanted to smack her hand away, but when I tried, I could barely lift my arm. Clearly, the collar robbed me of most of my strength.

I didn’t fight her this time when she pressed the bottle’s nipple against my lips. I took the nipple and started to suck. A fresh wave of shame descended on me as I suckled the bottle. Warm milk dripped into my mouth as I pulled in more and more. It filled my stomach and my hunger started to fade.

Kayla started to hum, and the sense of humiliation began to fade. Although I tried to cling to my sense of outraged degradation, I couldn’t do it. Her tones relaxed me, and it had been years since I had warm milk. The gentle liquid teased my tongue and I slipped into an easy rhythm: suck, suck, suck, swallow. Again and again, I worked for my milk.

Halfway through, I tried to spit out the nipple. I gave a little shake of my head which prompted Kayla to peek down at me again. She grinned, and it seemed her face occupied the whole of my vision. There was Kayla and nothing else even as she held the bottle upright for me to drink. In turn, she gave her own little shake and tapped my nose.

“Drink your entire bottle and maybe I’ll have a little treat for you.”

I didn’t know what she meant and with the nipple still between my lips, I had no way of asking. But I had my answer. I had to drink all of my milk, and she wasn’t about to remove the bottle, so I had no choice. I continued to drink and found myself relaxing even faster this time. My muscles settled down. My thoughts started to drift. They didn’t go to anything specific or concrete though.

Instead, I simply closed my eyes and wandered through a sense of comfortable haze. Kayla continued to coo her little songs. They should have irritated or annoyed me, but they were so sweet. I found myself singing along inside my head, but not with any skill, really. I just followed the sounds as I drank and drifted. I didn’t have any concerns or fears or worries or ambitions. My life had simplified into suck, suck, suck, swallow, taste and sound. That was my whole world.

It took a long time to empty the baby bottle. And once I sucked and found air rather than the taste and texture of warm milk, I found myself oddly full. I imagined this was how a baby must have felt. They didn’t care about the difference between solid and liquid. They couldn’t, not with so little experience, and now I didn’t seem to mind the difference either.

Kayla pulled away the bottle. A stray drop dribbled down my chin. Before I could wipe it away with my wrist, she dabbed it off with her fingertip. I glared at her for a moment, remembering how I wasn’t supposed to enjoy this. She must have seen the conflict play out on my face because she cuddled me closer and said, “You’re a good girl. You drank your entire bottle with hardly any fuss.”

I didn’t want her praise. I didn’t want her to tell me I had behaved. The thought galled me because it meant they were winning. No, I couldn’t accept this. I couldn’t let them lull me into submission.

“Do you want your treat?” she asked.

My nostrils flared as hesitancy and annoyance fought for control. This was the first choice they allowed me. In one sense, I wanted to tell her no. I wanted to be negative all the time and show my resistance through raw petulance. But then I would just sound like an angry two-year-old. Refusing to act the way they treated me, I asked, “What sort of treat?”

“You’ll find out, sweetie. It’s a surprise!” She leaned down and whispered as though this actually was special and not simply another way to humiliate me, “But if you ask really nice, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Such a well behaved little girl!” Kayla patted me on the head again. I watched her fingertips and the red of her nails for a moment. That’s why I didn’t notice her free hand as she slipped it into my diaper. “Oh, you’re still nice and dry. Don’t worry. I don’t think that’ll last long.”

I wanted to hiss back some sharp retort, but then my eyes widened as she slipped her fingers against my vagina. Her fingertip barely grazed my outer lips before retreating back to dance along my inner thighs. I bit down, shocked at the sudden burst of arousal thundering through my body.

I was supposed to be outraged. I was supposed to be angry. But all of that tense emotion must have bottled down my other instincts, turning me into a powder keg. Now Kayla exploited that intensity, teasing me.

“Do you want a reward? After all, you’ve been so well behaved for Seth and me. At this rate, we might just keep you forever!” she said in her singsong tones. I should have been outraged at the thought. They couldn’t keep me like this; I wasn’t a slave. They couldn’t own me, and yet my brain whitened out into nothing but the colors of excitement while she played with me.

Kayla slipped her finger a bit deeper. She was gentle and let me get wet. My body opened up to her as the heat of excitement started to pulse along with my heartbeat. I couldn’t believe she was touching me like this. Again, I searched out some sense of disgust or defiance. I didn’t find any. Instead, I started to savor her touch. I cracked my eyes open for a second and found her smiling down at me.

She looked like a babysitter happy to give her charge so easy treat. Only instead of a cookie, she offered me something so much more intense.

Her finger plunged deeper into my inner recesses. I gasped, my lungs tightening and locking up as the pleasures swirled through me. They got so intense, like pulsating magma, thick and energetic and so alive. The heat burrowed its way to and from my core. My face flushed and I started to wiggle. I no longer cared about the crinkle of my diaper, and it didn’t occur to me to act in anyway.

I was the recipient of her touch and her treatment. Kayla had total control over me. All I could do was lie across her lap and enjoy the sensations she offered. I had to hope she wouldn’t stop.

Kayla giggled down at me, “Such a good girl! There’s my little baby girl! Yes, you’re just a happy little baby, aren’t you?” I bit down, retaining just a sliver of my dignity. I knew I wasn’t supposed to like this or the way she touched me, but I couldn’t help it!

The pad of her fingertip found my clit and I gasped again. I let out a slow, shivering moan. A small orgasm shivered through my body. Kayla must have noticed, but she didn’t stop. She continued to tease, stroke, and massage my most sensitive parts. The desires only burned brighter and hotter through me until I started to wiggle my hips back and forth.

I didn’t think of the diaper or the pictures. I didn’t think of how she demeaned me with every word and gesture. I only thought of how it felt to be full of warm milk and touched in this way. No one ever made me feel like
this
, this
good
.

The next orgasm bloomed bright and slow and I felt the whole of my body clench down. Even my pussy tightened as Kayla slipped her now soaked finger back out. I shuddered as my heart pounded and the pleasure danced between my nerves. It felt so good and so right. Perfectly excited contentment settled down on me until I curled up into a ball.

I didn’t want to move and Kayla didn’t make me. She started to stroke my back and another sense of contentment fell over me. That felt so incredibly wonderful. Again, the little voice at the back of my head cried out for me to be enraged at what they had done. But I couldn’t. This felt too good and too right, and I didn’t have the will to summon any genuine anger.

Seth strong arms picked me up. He cradled me, and I heard the crinkle of my diaper, and I felt its bulge sticking out like a reminder. Those thoughts passed though, forgotten and discarded almost as quickly as they flickered through me. Seth carried me through the house; I left my eyes closed until I felt him lay me down on something soft. I moved and heard a crinkle.

In seconds, I fell asleep.

I slept totally and completely. I didn’t dream, or if I did, I couldn’t remember the images. It’s always like that here, when I sleep in my baby cage. Sometimes I fall asleep between Kayla and Seth. At other times, the put me down for naps or make me go to bed around six or seven at night.

But for the first nap, I woke up refreshed and disoriented. I remember thinking of the assignments I had to complete. And as I tallied the pages and writing assignments, I rolled over and hit something. It wasn’t the wall of my dorm room. No, this felt like bars.

Bars? I tried to understand it, but then my body stiffened as I refused to believe those memories were real. They bubbled up: being late for class, the interview, the diaper, the bottle, and the echoed pleasures of Kayla’s teasing fingertip.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and found the bars of my crib. This was the first time I awoke there. I glanced between them and spotted the changing table. As each memory flared back, so did my resolve. I couldn’t believe I had allowed Kayla to master and dominate me so easily. All it took was a bottle of warm milk? No, I was better than that. I was better than this stupid crib and—my diaper.

I glanced back down and felt it there between my legs. I pulled away the thin blanket Seth must have pulled across my body and found white symbol of my regression. The ruffles, the prints, the weight, and the noise all reminded me of how this was neither a dream, nor a nightmare.