Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Menu => Active Sissy Stories => Topic started by: naughty baby hubby on March 25, 2024, 04:03:29 AM
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The Characters Roy aman in his early 60s meak in manner, his wife Avril a big burly woman in her late 50s bossy and a bit of a plain jane. Roy shuffled to the bathroom for the third time that night. His prostate, a once loyal companion, had morphed into a grumpy gatekeeper, constantly demanding attention. Each trip was a symphony of creaking knees, fumbling fumbles, and the inevitable sigh of relief. Unfortunately, Roy's nocturnal orchestra had a rude awakening for his wife, Avril.
Avril, a woman who could rival a drill sergeant in decibel output, lay awake with a battlefield brewing in her stomach. Each rustle, each groan, chipped away at her precious sleep. By the third bathroom escapade, she'd reached her limit.
"Roy!" Avril's voice was a weaponized ice pick. "Is tonight the Royal Rumble of urination?"
Roy, fumbling with his pajamas, mumbled through the bathroom door, "Sorry, love. This darn prostate..."
"Prostate this, prostate that!" Avril stormed into the bathroom, eyes narrowed. "There's gotta be a solution besides your nightly victory lap around the porcelain throne!"
Roy, shrunk under Avril's glare, stammered, "They have these pills, but..."
"But nothing!" Avril cut him off. "There's gotta be... a more dignified solution."
A mischievous glint entered Avril's eyes. Roy, sensing a trap, squeaked, "Like what?"
Avril's lips twitched. "Like... maybe some... adult diapers?"
Roy's face contorted in a mixture of horror and disbelief. "Adult diapers? Avril, I'm not some toddler!"
Avril crossed her arms. "Look, honey, either you wear the diapers or I wear earplugs. And trust me, you don't want to see a woman with sleep deprivation and earplugs."
Roy considered his options. Sleepless nights with Avril on the warpath or a slight hit to his pride? With a resigned sigh, he mumbled, "Alright, alright. But these better be the most comfortable, discreet adult diapers ever invented."
The next night, Roy hesitantly donned his new "armor." He shuffled to the bathroom, a hint of self-consciousness clinging to him like a shadow. But to his surprise, there were no leaks, no embarrassing sounds. He returned to bed, whispering, "Thank you, Avril."
Avril, surprisingly, smiled. "See? Now we can both get some shut-eye."
The next morning, Roy woke up feeling surprisingly well-rested. He glanced at Avril, who was still peacefully slumbering. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. Maybe, just maybe, adult diapers weren't such a bad idea after all. Perhaps, this detour wasn't a sign of regression, but a chance for a second wind, a chance to prioritize their well-being together.
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I like to know that I am going in the right direction please advise and comment
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Looks like a promising start, nice to hear how older hubbies get regressed and maybe wife takes new man to see to her every needs.
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More, please. I hope the direction is one of control and humiliation
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Excellent start. I have a feeling that his prostate is going to receive a good deal of attention…
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Roy shuffled towards the bathroom, the familiar nighttime pressure building. Tonight, however, a new hurdle awaited him. Avril, a sly grin plastered on her face, stood by the bedroom door, arms crossed.
"Hold on there, champ," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "New rule: bedtime in your armor means bedtime business in your armor."
Roy's jaw dropped. "But Avril, I..."
"Nope," she cut him off, a glint in her eye. "We both get a good night's sleep, remember? No more victory laps."
Roy's bladder protested, a frantic drum solo against his insides. He pleaded, "But Avril, come on, this is..."
"Uncomfortable? A little embarrassing?" she finished his sentence, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Well, honey, that's the point, isn't it? A little payback for all those nights you woke me up."
Roy felt a wave of humiliation wash over him. He shuffled back to bed, the urge to go growing stronger with each passing minute. He tossed and turned, his pleas ignored by Avril who feigned sleep with exaggerated snores.
The pressure became unbearable. Shame battled with desperation, and finally, a trickle escaped, soaking into the diaper. A wave of relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a burning sensation and the indignity of the situation.
Avril, however, wasn't done. Her eyes snapped open, a triumphant glint in them. "Looks like someone finally lost the battle," she chuckled, reaching over and squeezing the front of his diaper. "My, my, quite the accomplishment for a grown man, wouldn't you say?"
Roy flinched at the cold touch and the condescending tone. A tear welled up in his eye, a mix of frustration and a strange sense of vulnerability he hadn't felt in years.
Seeing his reaction, a flicker of something akin to remorse crossed Avril's face. Maybe she'd gone too far. But before she could speak, a soft sigh escaped Roy's lips. "Alright, Avril," he said, a hint of defeat in his voice. "You win. But can we at least talk about this in the morning?"
Avril hesitated, then nodded curtly. "Fine," she mumbled, turning away. "But tomorrow night, same rules apply."
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The morning light painted the room in a pale, unforgiving glow, highlighting the crumpled remains of the previous night's battle. Roy, his body a map of aches from holding back for so long, dreaded the conversation he knew was coming. He tried to gather his thoughts, to formulate a plan, but all he felt was a dull ache of humiliation and a simmering anger towards Avril's harsh treatment.
As he shuffled into the kitchen, Avril was already at the table, a steaming pot of tea and a steely glint in her eye. "Morning, sleepyhead," she greeted, her voice devoid of warmth. Roy mumbled a response, avoiding eye contact.
"So," Avril continued, pushing a plate of toast towards him, "about last night."
Roy braced himself. "Avril, I think we need to—"
"There's nothing to discuss," she cut him off, her voice hard. "We had a deal. You wear these" – she gestured dismissively towards the pack of adult diapers on the counter – "every night, no more bathroom breaks. Simple, effective."
Roy's frustration bubbled to the surface. "But it's degrading! Surely, there are other options. Medication, perhaps?"
Avril's lips thinned into a disapproving line. "Maybe," she conceded grudgingly. "But this works. And frankly," she continued, her voice dropping to a low growl, "you haven't exactly been Mr. Independent lately, have you, Roy? Your bladder's a traitor. Time to face reality."
She tossed a diaper at him, the plastic crinkling with a sound that echoed in the tense silence of the room. Roy flinched, the childish fear of being scolded mixing with a newfound anger – an anger he couldn't quite understand.
"And no more getting up," she added, a cruel amusement dancing in her eyes. "Use it like a little baby, alright? I'll even be the judge of how good a boy you were in the morning."
The last sentence hung heavy in the air, dripping with condescension. A childish defiance welled up within Roy. "A little boy?" he scoffed, his voice laced with a tremor of hurt and anger. "I'm a grown man, Avril!"
Avril met his gaze, her eyes devoid of the warmth he knew and cherished. "Looks like that man couldn't hold his water," she retorted. "Maybe a little discipline is what you need."
Roy slumped back in his chair, the fight draining out of him. This wasn't the Avril he knew, the woman who, despite her gruff exterior, had always been his partner, his confidante. This felt like a power play, a dominance game he didn't understand, and it terrified him.
The day stretched before him, filled with a tense silence that spoke volumes. Roy retreated into himself, his mind churning with a confusing mix of emotions. As dusk approached, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Avril reappeared with a determined glint in her eye.
"Time for your new bedtime routine, little man," she announced, holding up the diaper pack.
Roy stared at her, a wave of despair washing over him. Was this their new normal? A battle of wills fought with adult diapers as ammunition? Or was there a way to bridge the gap, to find a solution that respected both their needs? He looked at Avril, a silent plea in his eyes. Would she listen, or was this just the beginning of a strange, humiliating new chapter in their lives?
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The clock on the nightstand mocked Roy with its glowing red digits: 7:00 PM. An absurdly early bedtime, even for a toddler, which was precisely the point Avril seemed determined to make.
"But the soaps don't even start for another hour!" Roy protested, the indignity of the situation fueling a spark of defiance.
Avril crossed her arms, her usual bluster tinged with a hint of unease. "You never like them anyway, Roy. Always complain about the melodramatic plots and predictable storylines." There was a truth to that, but it felt weaponized now. "Besides," she continued, her voice softening a fraction, "an early night might help you get used to... the new routine."
She tossed the diaper pack at him, the plastic crinkling with a disdainful sound. "Go on, use the loo. Put them on properly this time. I'll check."
Roy caught the package, his jaw clenched. He shuffled to the bathroom, the indignity a bitter pill to swallow. He completed the task with a practiced efficiency, the frustration boiling within him.
Avril stood by the door, her arms crossed, a critical eye inspecting his work. She poked and prodded with a coldness that sent shivers down his spine. Satisfied, she gave a curt nod. "Alright, back to bed."
Resigned, Roy climbed back under the covers, the scratchy fabric of the diaper a constant reminder of his new reality. He watched Avril switch off the light, her silhouette lingering in the doorway for a moment too long.
By 10:30 PM, the house was shrouded in an oppressive silence. The only sound was the relentless drone of the late-night news filtering from the living room. Roy, wide awake and fuming, snuck a peek at Avril. She was fast asleep, a peaceful sigh escaping her lips.
This was his chance. He tiptoed out of bed, his bladder threatening to burst. But as he reached for the bathroom door, the knob wouldn't budge. Panic flared in his chest. He rattled the handle, a silent scream trapped in his throat.
A creak on the stairs. Avril.
She appeared in the doorway, her face a mask of fury. She grabbed his arm, surprisingly strong for a woman her size, and dragged him back to bed.
A single, stinging slap landed on his thigh. A punishment, a humiliation. "Stay in bed, Roy," she growled. "I told you no more bathroom breaks."
Tears welled up in Roy's eyes, a mix of anger and despair. He whimpered, his voice choked with emotion. Avril hesitated, a flicker of something akin to regret crossing her face. But before she could speak, a dampness spread through the diaper, a silent testament to his defiance and her cruelty.
The room fell silent once more, heavy with unspoken emotions. Roy lay there, his body a prisoner, his spirit broken. He didn't know how he would endure this new normal, but one thing was clear: this wasn't the solution. He had to find his voice, to fight for his dignity, even if it meant fighting Avril
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oy lay in a crumpled heap, the scratchy diaper a constant reminder of his defiance and its consequences. Shame burned in his gut, hotter than the dampness spreading through the layers. Sleep was a distant prospect. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle from Avril's side of the bed, sent a jolt of fear through him.
The night stretched on in an agonizing loop. Each time the pressure in his bladder became unbearable, he'd inch towards the edge of the bed, only to remember the locked door, the echo of Avril's harsh voice. He'd clench his jaw, willing the feeling away, but his body had other plans. The diaper, initially a symbol of rebellion, became his reluctant prison. Each successive leak felt like a surrender, a tear in the already frayed fabric of his dignity.
By morning, a cold dread settled in Roy's stomach. He knew the inspection was coming, a ritual as humiliating as it was necessary. As the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, Avril stirred. Her movements were deliberate, each rustle a harbinger of the coming indignity.
"Alright, sleepyhead," she announced, her voice laced with a sharp edge that sliced through the morning quiet. "Time to see if you held your water like a big boy."
Roy remained silent, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Shame coiled around him, a suffocating presence that threatened to steal his voice. He deserved her scorn, he knew, for disobeying her rule. But the constant belittlement, the reduction of him to a child being scolded for wetting his pants, was a bitter pill to swallow.
Avril pulled off the diaper with a practiced efficiency, the plastic crinkling loudly. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Well, you certainly didn't win any gold stars," she said, her voice dripping with disdain.
Despite himself, Roy flinched. He knew he deserved it, but the constant belittlement stung.
"Alright," she continued, her tone clipped. "Bathroom. Now. And this time, try to do a proper job. I'm sick and tired of finding skid marks in your underwear."
Roy shuffled to the bathroom, the sting of her words echoing in his ears. He did his business, a small victory in the face of his larger humiliation. Returning to the bedroom, he stood awkwardly, naked and exposed, the vulnerability a stark contrast to Avril's commanding presence.
"Let's see," Avril commanded, gesturing for him to turn around.
This wasn't just about the diapers anymore. It was about his dignity, his voice, his right to be treated with respect even in this vulnerable state. A surge of rebellion battled with the ingrained respect he held for his wife. But somewhere, a spark of defiance ignited.
"Avril," he started, his voice hoarse but firm. "Don't."
"Don't argue," she snapped. "This is about hygiene, not your bruised ego."
Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. This wasn't the woman he knew, the woman who, despite her gruff exterior, had always been his partner. He felt like a small child, being scolded for a childish mistake. But this wasn't a mistake; it was a consequence of her harsh control.Roy squeezed his eyes shut, his voice catching in his throat. This wasn't about hygiene anymore, and they both knew it. It was about power, and Avril wielding it like a weapon. His defiance, however shaky, had shifted the dynamic, and Avril, used to being in control, was lashing out.
He took a deep breath, the vulnerability a raw ache in his chest. "Avril," he began again, his voice steadier this time. "We need to talk about this… about everything."
Avril's face hardened, but a flicker of uncertainty danced in her eyes. She opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions.
Suddenly, a noise broke the tension. A wet, squelching sound. Roy's cheeks burned with shame as he realized the indignity wasn't over. He hadn't cleaned himself properly in his haste to return to bed.
Avril's face contorted in disgust. "Honestly, Roy!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with a mix of anger and something akin to disappointment. The disappointment stung more than the anger. This wasn't the Avril who used to take care of him, even in his most vulnerable moments.
Before Roy could stammer an apology, Avril grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, her movements brisk and efficient. "Here," she said, shoving it into his hand. "Clean yourself up properly. This is getting ridiculous."
Roy took the damp cloth, his hands shaking. He couldn't believe he was being treated like a child, but the alternative, another humiliating inspection, was unthinkable. Just as he finished cleaning, a stinging slap landed on his backside. The pain was sharp, but the emotional blow was worse.
Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. "Avril," he choked out, his voice thick with hurt and anger. "That wasn't necessary."
Avril crossed her arms, her face unreadable. "Maybe not," she conceded grudgingly. "But maybe it is. You seem to have forgotten how to take care of yourself, Roy. Maybe you need a reminder." Shame burned in Roy's cheeks like a branding iron. He stood awkwardly before Avril, the discarded adult diaper a testament to his failure. The smell, faint but undeniable, filled the air, a constant reminder of his humiliation.
"Don't even think about putting those boxer shorts on," Avril said, her voice clipped but laced with a concern that surprised him. She gestured towards a pile of clothes on the chair. "Put these on instead."
Roy peered at the offering. It was a pair of floral print, worn-out granny panties. A wave of nausea hit him, a combination of disgust and a strange vulnerability.
"Avril, I…" he stammered, his voice thick with embarrassment.
"No arguments," she cut him off, her tone leaving no room for debate. "These are the only things that won't get ruined until you learn how to clean yourself up properly."
There was a raw edge to her voice, a fear that peeked through the anger. Roy realized this wasn't just about the mess; it was about something deeper, something that scared her.
He took the panties, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the scratchy diaper. Slipping them on felt like another layer of humiliation, a symbol of his dependence. But as he did, a strange sense of resolve settled over him.
The indignity burned in Roy's cheeks like a branding iron. Standing before Avril in nothing but the floral granny panties felt like a public shaming. The thin fabric offered no privacy, no security, and the constant reminder of his situation was gnawing at him.
"All day?" he croaked, his voice thick with disbelief. "But what about…"
"Don't worry," Avril cut him off, a smirk playing on her lips. This wasn't just about his incontinence anymore; it felt like a power play, a way to humiliate him further.
The rest of the day stretched on in a tense silence. Roy felt like an exhibit on display, every movement self-conscious, every noise amplified. He longed for the privacy of his own clothes, the feeling of normalcy, however fleeting it might be.
The sound of the doorbell announcing Avril's return ripped him from his reverie. He braced himself for her inspection, for the inevitable scorn.
But as she entered, a brown paper bag clutched in her hand, a different kind of humiliation awaited him. She pulled out the contents with a flourish, revealing a McDonald's Happy Meal. A childish grin stretched across her face.
"Dinner time, little boy," she cooed, the saccharine tone dripping with sarcasm. "Did you miss your chicken nuggets?"
Shame burned hotter than ever. He wasn't a child, and this wasn't a game. The urge to lash out, to scream at her cruelty, warred with the fear of further punishment.
"Just put your diaper on and sit on the rug," she commanded, gesturing towards the living room floor.
Tears welled up in Roy's eyes, blurring his vision. He shuffled to the bathroom, the childish meal a stark contrast to the adult diaper he was forced to wear. He completed the task with a mechanical efficiency, the indignity a weight on his chest.
Returning to the living room, he sat on the rug, the scratchy fabric a poor substitute for the comfort of the sofa. Across from him, Avril devoured her Big Mac, her every bite a cruel reminder of his childish meal.
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Weeks bled into one another, each sunrise revealing the same grim routine. The childish meal, the forced diaper change, the banishment to bed – a constant reminder of his dependency and Avril's dominance. The indignity gnawed at him, festering into a silent rebellion.
One morning, Avril stormed into the bedroom, her usual controlled demeanor replaced by frustration. "These disposable diapers are costing a fortune, Roy!" she exclaimed, tossing a receipt on the bed.
Roy flinched, the sound of money a fresh source of anxiety. He understood her frustration, but the way she phrased it felt like another jab.
"So?" he mumbled, trying to sound indifferent.
"So, we're finding a cheaper option," she said, her voice clipped. "Reusable terry cloth nappies and plastic pants. Consider it an investment in your… condition."
Humiliation washed over him in waves. Terry cloth nappies – the kind used for infants. The image of himself in those bulky contraptions sent a shiver down his spine.
The change was immediate. Each night, a ritual of forced vulnerability unfolded. Stripped bare, he'd stand awkwardly as Avril inspected him, a cruel amusement dancing in her eyes. She'd make a snide comment about his "little man" if he was aroused, another layer of shame heaped upon the indignity.
Then came the struggle with the terry cloth monstrosity. Unlike the pull-ups, this required her assistance. He'd hold his breath, hating the way his body felt so exposed, so utterly dependent on her. The plastic pants that followed only compounded the humiliation, the crinkling sound a constant reminder of his infantile state.
The mornings were no better. Waking up in the damp, clammy terry cloth, the need for a change was undeniable. Yet, the shame of requesting help kept him silent for as long as he could bear it. Finally, the discomfort would force his hand.
"Avril," he'd call out, his voice thick with shame. "Can you… can you help me?"
She'd appear in the doorway, a smirk playing on her lips. "About time, little one," she'd say, her voice dripping with forced sweetness.
The changing process would be slow, deliberate, her eyes lingering on him a second too long. Each touch felt invasive, a violation of his privacy. He'd clench his jaw, willing himself invisible, his resentment building with every forced smile.
One morning, as she finished cleaning him with a condescending sigh, Roy snapped. "That's enough, Avril! This isn't funny anymore!"
Avril looked at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. Perhaps she hadn't anticipated his outburst. "Funny? Roy, this is serious," she said, her voice losing its edge.
"Serious? You treat me like a child!" he retorted, his voice gaining strength with every word. "These stupid nappies, the inspections… it's degrading!"
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This story has really caught my attention, I'm looking forward to see where it goes from here.
Keep up the good work.
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Roy had settled, albeit reluctantly, into his new reality. Avril, surprisingly adept at the nightly ritual of terry cloth and plastic, became a constant reminder of his dependence. He, in turn, had resigned himself to the nightly wetting, finding a sliver of solace in the fact that the diapers were only required during sleep.
His prostate, however, remained a constant source of worry. It demanded a delicate balance – too much fluid, and disaster struck; too little, and sleep became a battle against discomfort. This precarious equilibrium reached a critical point during a trip to Tesco's.
Wandering the aisles, Roy felt a familiar pressure building in his bladder. He tried to ignore it, focusing on Avril's excited chatter about a sale on their favorite brand of tea. But the pressure grew, turning into a dull ache. He nudged Avril, his voice a strained whisper.
"Avril, love, I need the loo urgently."
A frown creased her forehead. "Can't you hold it a bit longer? We're almost done here."
Panic clawed at Roy's throat. He couldn't hold it any longer. His bladder felt like it was about to burst.
"No, Avril, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "I can't."
Seeing the urgency in his eyes, Avril finally relented. "Alright, alright," she sighed, steering him towards the restroom signs.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans. The toilets, illuminated by an ominous 'Out of Order' sign, mocked them. Roy felt a wave of despair wash over him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a desperate attempt to contain the inevitable.
The shopping list crumpled in his hand as he reached the checkout line, his bladder a ticking time bomb. He stole a glance at Avril, her face etched with worry, but also a hint of annoyance. He understood. This wasn't ideal.
Then, it happened. A warm dampness spread across his backside, a sickening confirmation of his worst fear. Shame burned hotter than the spreading wetness. He froze, a statue of mortification amidst the hum of the checkout.
The cashier, a kind-faced woman with a nametag reading 'Margaret,' seemed to take an eternity to scan their groceries. With each beep, Roy felt like shrinking into the floor.
Finally, the receipt printed. Margaret, with a practiced smile, chimed, "There you go, love. Looks like someone had a little accident!"
Her amusement, though seemingly innocent, was the final blow. Tears welled up in Roy's eyes, blurring his vision. He mumbled an apology, his voice choked with shame.
Avril, her face contorted in anger, grabbed him by the arm. "Come on, Roy!" she hissed, practically dragging him out of the store.
Outside, in the cool evening air, Avril turned on him, her voice laced with ice. "Honestly, Roy! How could you be so… careless?"
Tears streamed down Roy's face. It wasn't carelessness, it was a malfunctioning body betraying him at the worst possible moment. The humiliation, the public exposure, it felt like a punishment far exceeding the crime.
But amidst the anger and shame, a spark of defiance flickered within Roy. He wouldn't let this break him. He wouldn't let Avril control him through his fear and insecurity.
He took a deep breath, wiping his tears with a shaky hand. "Avril," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "This isn't my fault. We need to talk about this… about a solution. There has to be something we can do."
Avril's lips were pressed into a thin line, her anger battling with a flicker of concern in her eyes. The Tesco's debacle had been a wake-up call for them both.The humiliation piled on Roy like a suffocating blanket. Avril, her anger simmering, marched him out to the car park, the distance a cruel extension of his punishment. He stumbled out, the dampness in his pants clinging to him like a shameful secret.
As Avril, opened the rear car door to give Roy some privacy and with a cold efficiency, pulled down his trousers and the wet pants, a spark of rebellion flared within him. This wasn't just about the accident; it was about the complete lack of respect for his dignity. But trapped in his vulnerable state, all he could do was clench his jaw, shame burning in his cheeks.
She placed a Tesco carrier on the rear seat of the car and sat Roy now naked from the waist down on it.The indignity of the Tesco's carrier bag, a flimsy barrier between his bare skin and the plastic seat, was almost unbearable. He felt like an exposed child, left to stew in his own misery. The slam of the car door echoed in the empty car park, a punctuation mark on his humiliation.
Time stretched on, each minute an eternity. Then, a car pulled up next door, two elderly women stepping out. Roy froze, his heart pounding against his ribs. He couldn't risk a glance, the fear of their gaze scorching him too much to bear.
Suddenly, Avril reappeared, her face a mask of forced cheer. He braced himself for another verbal lashing, but instead, she turned to the women, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face.
"Oh, hello ladies!" she chirped, her voice dripping with forced cheer. "Just dealing with a little accident. My big, silly husband here wet his pants!"
Roy wanted to crawl under the car seat, to disappear into the asphalt. The casual cruelty of her words, the way she infantilized him in front of strangers, was the final blow. He could have died of embarrassment, a slow, agonizing death by public humiliation.
The women, thankfully, seemed more bemused than judgmental. They exchanged awkward smiles with Avril, then hurried into the store, leaving Roy in his personal hell.
Finally, Avril drove off , her smile gone, replaced by a steely glint in her eyes. This wasn't victory, just another skirmish in their escalating war.
"Alright, Mr. Big Stuff," she said, her voice cold. "Let's get you cleaned up."
Roy remained silent, his body stiff with defiance. He wouldn't play her games anymore. He wouldn't be her little boy to humiliate and control. He would fight for his dignity, even if it meant a battle.
-
The car screeched to a halt in their driveway, the gravel crunching under their tires a harsh counterpoint to the suffocating silence between them. As Avril flung open the car door, the familiar scent of their home offered no comfort.
"Get out," she hissed, her voice taut with barely controlled fury.
Roy, numb with shame, stumbled out, the damp Tesco's bag clinging to him like a second skin. He longed for the anonymity of the car park, for the indifference of strangers compared to Avril's cold, calculating anger.
Inside the house, Avril grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him towards the stairs. His bare legs scraped against the carpet, each step a fresh scrape on his already raw dignity.
"Straight to the bathroom," she commanded, shoving him towards the shower. "Clean yourself up. We'll deal with this… mess… later."
The water, usually a source of comfort, felt like needles pricking his exposed skin. He scrubbed himself clean, the memory of the car park, the pitying stares of the women, burning into his mind.
Emerging from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist like a flimsy shield, he found Avril waiting by his bedroom door. Not their bedroom, but the small, unused spare room at the end of the hall.
"In there," she ordered, pointing towards the spare bedroom that was use when Avrils grandchildren stayed.
He entered the room, a child's room, the remnants of a forgotten childhood taunting him with its innocence. The single bed, adorned with a cartoon spaceship duvet, felt absurdly small for his adult frame.
Avril followed him in, her eyes scanning him with a dispassionate coldness. She picked up his wet pants and trousers, tossing them disdainfully into the bin. you will not be needing them again she said coldly
"Alright, Roy," she began, her voice devoid of warmth, "let's see the damage."
He recoiled, his hands instinctively flying to cover himself. The shame was a physical weight, pressing down on him.
"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "This isn't a game. Let me see if you've learned anything from this little… escapade."
Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He felt like a small child being inspected, judged for his failures. With a trembling hand, he pulled down the towel, revealing the vulnerability that felt like his greatest weakness.
Avril's lips pursed with disapproval, but there was a hint of something else – a flicker of something that might have been satisfaction, or maybe even control.
The rest unfolded in a humiliating blur. A stern lecture, a forced change into a terry nappy and plastic pants, the indignity of being tucked into the small bed like a disobedient child at 5.30 in the evening.
As he lay there, the scratchy fabric of the sheets a constant reminder of his helplessness, Roy knew this wasn't over. The car park might have been the stage for his public humiliation, but this, this was the true battleground for his dignity
The enforced slumber felt less like rest and more like a cruel form of solitary confinement. The indignity of the terry cloth nappy chafed against his skin, a constant reminder of his helplessness. Sleep, when it finally came, was fitful, haunted by dreams of public humiliation and Avril's cold, calculating gaze.
At the first sliver of dawn filtering through the blinds, Roy woke with a start. His bladder, already strained from the day's ordeal, sent a sharp pang of urgency. He winced, remembering the locked door. Avril's twisted game was clear – another layer of humiliation, another reminder of his dependence.
The hours ticked by in agonizing slowness. The urge to use the bathroom became a dull ache, then a throbbing throb. Shame turned to a cold, steely anger. He wouldn't let her break him. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the sound of his own breathing, on anything to distract from the growing discomfort but to no avial. First a trickle then full flow his nappy filled.
Finally, a sound – the unmistakable click of the lock turning. The door creaked open, revealing Avril, a smug smile plastered on her face.
"Well, well, well," she drawled, her voice dripping with mock concern. "Look who decided to grow up again."
Roy swallowed the retort that burned on his tongue. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He simply stared at her, his jaw clenched tight.
"Seems like you had another little accident," she continued, her eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"
She approached him, her movements slow and deliberate. He braced himself, the vulnerability a raw ache in his core.
"Hold still," she commanded, her voice cold.
With a practiced efficiency, she removed the sodden nappy, the stench hitting him like a physical blow. Shame flooded his cheeks, but this time, it was laced with a simmering defiance.
"Shower, now," she barked, pointing towards the bathroom.
He complied, the hot water a welcome relief against the stinging dampness. As he washed, a plan, fragile but potent, began to form in his mind.
Emerging from the shower, Avril called him to the master bedroom he found a fresh set of clothes laid out on the bed. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. Reaching for his underwear drawer, he found it empty.
"Avril, where are my underpants?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"Underwear?" she echoed, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Oh, those. I thought a little… change might be in order. Something more… appropriate for your little… regression."
She sashayed towards the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of brightly colored Spider-Man pants.
"There you go," she chirped, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "These should do the trick, wouldn't you say?"
Roy stared at the childish underwear, a wave of nausea washing over him. This wasn't just humiliation anymore; it was a blatant attack on his masculinity, a cruel attempt to reduce him to a helpless child.
"Absolutely not," he growled, his voice laced with a newfound steel. "I will not wear those."
Avril's smile faltered for a second, surprised by his defiance. Then, a dangerous glint entered her eyes. She marched towards his drawers, yanked them open, and grabbed all of his adult boxers. With a pair of scissors she kept on the bedside table, she began to snip them into shreds before his very eyes.
"These are the only options, Roy," she hissed, her voice tight with controlled fury. "Those childish underpants or nothing. The choice is yours."
Roy stared at her, his mind racing. He wouldn't give in to her rage. He wouldn't be a puppet anymore. Taking a deep breath, he met her gaze, his voice steady.
"Fine," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. "I'll wear the stupid underwear. The Spider-Man pants felt ridiculous enough, clinging to his skin like a second childhood. But the sight of his empty wardrobe sent a jolt of fresh humiliation through him. He stared at Avril, his jaw clenched tight.
"Where are my trousers?" he demanded, his voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in his hands.
Avril's smile widened, malicious and triumphant. "Oh, those? Seems you needed a fashion upgrade as well. Something a little… more playful."
On the bed lay a pair of pale blue dungarees, the kind usually worn by toddlers. They looked absurdly small, the pastel color adding a final touch of childishness.
"No," Roy choked out, the word a desperate plea.
"Absolutely," Avril countered, her voice hard as steel. "These or nothing, Roy. Your choice."
He knew it was a trap, another layer of humiliation designed to break him. The image of himself in those ridiculous overalls was almost unbearable. He could already picture the smirks and whispers if he ever dared step outside like that.
Shame battled with a simmering anger. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him completely broken. He took a deep breath, trying to project a semblance of defiance.
"Fine," he spat out, the word laced with bitterness. "But this is a joke, Avril. A sick joke."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, replaced quickly by a smug smile. She grabbed the dungarees and approached him.
"Let's get you dressed, little boy," she purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.
There was nothing he could do. He stood stiffly as she maneuvered him into the overalls, the childish fabric brushing against his skin. She fussed with the straps, her touch lingering unnecessarily long on his bare shoulders.
The indignity of it all was almost suffocating. He felt like a small child being dressed by his mother, stripped of any semblance of control or dignity. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.
As she clipped the last buckle, Avril stepped back, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "There we go," she cooed. "Doesn't that look adorable?"Avril took Roy in to the consevatory she returned with a tray, the aroma of sizzling bacon and sausage filling the room. Roy's stomach growled, a traitor in his time of need. But on the tray, instead of a plate, sat a bright yellow bowl filled with Cheerios and a plastic sippy cup overflowing with milk.
"Breakfast," Avril announced, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness.
Roy stared at the childish meal, a wave of nausea washing over him. "I… I can't eat that," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
"Oh, come on now, Roy," Avril cooed, her voice dripping with mock concern. "You wouldn't want to upset your tummy, would you? Those sausages might be a bit too spicy for a little boy like you."
Her words were a cruel twist of the knife. He wasn't a little boy. He was a grown man, a prisoner in his own home, forced to wear childish clothes and drink from a sippy cup.
He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. He knew what awaited him.
As if on cue, Avril's hand shot out, a sharp slap stinging his cheek. He recoiled, his face burning with shame and a fresh wave of anger.
"Don't make me repeat myself, Roy," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "Eat your breakfast, or there will be consequences."
Tears pricked at his eyes, blurring his vision. He was trapped. He could fight back, endure the pain, and potentially face worse punishment. Or, he could play along, swallow his pride, and bide his time.
With a trembling hand, he reached for the sippy cup, the plastic feeling alien against his lips. He took a small sip, the cloying sweetness of the milk a stark contrast to the bitterness blooming in his heart.
"Good boy," Avril chirped, her voice dripping with false praise. "Now, finish that up, and then we can see if you've earned a little reward." The click of the camera shutter echoed in the tense silence of the kitchen. Roy flinched, the childish cereal tasting like ash in his mouth. Avril held her phone up, a triumphant smile lighting up her face. "There, perfect for the 'regression album,'" she said, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness.
Roy felt a surge of anger, hot and suffocating. The idea of this picture, this grotesque mockery of his life, circulating among her friends, was unbearable. He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out a primal scream.
"Don't even think about it, Roy," Avril warned, her voice sharp. "Unless you want a repeat of last night, complete with a locked door and… well, let's just say your new outfit gets a little more… messy."
Shame and anger warred within him. He knew she was right. He wasn't strong enough, not yet, to fight her head-on. But that didn't mean he had to surrender completely.
Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile, sickly sweet to match hers. "Baby album, huh? Sounds charming. Can't wait to see the captions."
Avril's smile faltered for a second, thrown off by his unexpected compliance. "Captions? Well, there's 'Roy's first taste of freedom,' or maybe 'Learning to eat like a big boy again.'"
He nodded slowly, playing along. "Perfect. Just be sure to get a good shot of the… full ensemble," he added, gesturing towards his ridiculous outfit, the plastic pants peeking out from under the overalls.As he forced a bite down, Avril disappeared into the living room, returning a moment later with a large, fluffy teddy bear cradled in her arms. It was a sickly pink color, its oversized smile mocking him.
"Look what I found," Avril cooed, her voice dripping with forced sweetness. "This is your new best friend! His name is Mr. Snuggles."
Roy's stomach churned. A teddy bear, a name so saccharine it made him grit his teeth. This was more than just humiliation; it was the complete erasure of his identity.
"Mr. Snuggles?" he echoed, his voice tight.
"Yes, darling," Avril chirped, oblivious to his discomfort. "He'll be there for you whenever you need him. Now, give him a big kiss, just like a good boy."
Roy's body rebelled. The thought of kissing this childish symbol of his captivity was unbearable. But defiance would only lead to punishment.
Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile and leaned forward, planting a dry peck on the bear's oversized snout. Shame burned his cheeks like fire.
"See?" Avril beamed. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now hold Mr. Snuggles close, alright? And don't you dare let him go."
She placed the teddy in his lap, its weight smothering. He felt like a child being forced to hold onto a security blanket he didn't want.
"And since you've been such a good boy," Avril continued, her voice taking on a patronizing tone, "here's a little something for you."
She pulled out a brightly colored baby rattle and a pink pacifier. The indignity of it all flooded through him. He wasn't a baby, he was a man!
"These are for if you need anything," she explained, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Just shake the rattle and I'll come running. And if you start to feel… fussy, just pop this in your mouth."
She held out the pacifier, its plastic form looking alien and grotesque.
Roy stared at it, his jaw clenched. Giving in felt like surrendering, but the glint in Avril's eyes told him refusal wouldn't be tolerated. He took the pacifier, the plastic cold against his skin, and shoved it into his mouth.
The childish feeling was overwhelming. He felt like a caricature of himself, a man stripped of his dignity and reduced to a babbling infant. A single tear escaped his eye, tracing a path down his cheek.
Avril, oblivious to his silent struggle, snapped a picture on her phone. "Such a good boy," she crooned, her voice laced with satisfaction. "Mr. Snuggles and his new friend. This is going straight into your 'regression album.'"The indignity burned in Roy's throat like cheap candy. He sat stiffly on the living room floor, Mr. Snuggles – an unwelcome companion – pressed against his side. The pacifier felt like a physical barrier, muffling his words and forcing him to breathe shallowly.
Across from him, the television blared an endless stream of brightly colored cartoons, the childish images doing nothing to soothe his simmering anger. Every now and then, Avril would glance his way, a cruel amusement flickering in her eyes. She seemed to take perverse pleasure in his forced regression.
Hours crawled by, each one a test of his endurance. Roy clenched his jaw, focusing on the distant memory of freedom, of coffee in the morning and adult conversations that didn't involve stuffed animals.
As the afternoon sun began to dip below the horizon, a familiar pressure built in his stomach. He hated to give her the satisfaction, but his body wouldn't be ignored.
He mumbled something into the pacifier, hoping Avril wouldn't catch on. She did, of course.
"What was that, Roy?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.
Roy felt a flush creep up his neck. He hated this game, this constant decoding of his muffled words. He rattled the baby rattle weakly, a pathetic attempt at communication.
Avril let out a high-pitched giggle that grated on his nerves. "Does Mr. Snuggles need a new friend?" she cooed, leaning closer.
Roy shook his head, finally pulling the pacifier out of his mouth.
"M-mum," he stammered, hating the childish word. "I need to..." Shame choked the rest of the sentence.
Avril's amusement morphed into a smirk. "Need to what, Roy? Can't you use your big boy words?"
Roy gritted his teeth. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of victory. He pointed towards the bathroom, hoping the gesture would be clear.
"Ah, I see," Avril said, her voice laced with fake understanding. "You mean you need to go potty? No, no, darling. Big boys use the grown-up word. Say it properly."
Her voice held a taunting edge, pushing him to his limit. He clenched and unclenched his fists, a primal urge to lash out threatening to boil over.
Just then, an idea sparked in his mind. A risky gamble, but maybe, just maybe, it would work.
He looked up at Avril, a forced innocence in his eyes. "Poo-poo," he said, his voice mimicking the childish way she used the word.
A look of surprise crossed her face, replaced quickly by a strained smile. "That's a good boy," she said, her voice clipped. "Now hold on to Mr. Snuggles while I take you to the big boy bathroom."
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Wonderful story, Keep going, you are very talented.
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Roy shuffled behind Avril to the bathroom, Mr. Snuggles clutched awkwardly against his chest. The teddy felt like a constant reminder of his humiliation, its oversized plushness mocking his predicament. Avril's giggles echoed behind him, each one like a needle pricking at his already frayed nerves.
The bathroom held another surprise – not one, but two potties. A smaller, brightly colored one sat on the floor, next to a normal toilet seat with a child-sized adapter. Avril placed Mr. Snuggles on the smaller potty, her voice dripping with forced cheer.
"Here you go, Mr. Snuggles," she said, her voice high-pitched and childish. "Show Roy how it's done! Go poo-poo!"
Roy winced, the absurdity of the situation pushing him closer to his breaking point. He wasn't a child, and the idea of mimicking this ridiculous scene was almost unbearable.
Avril's amusement faltered slightly. She knelt before him, her eyes searching his face. "Alright, alright," she said in a dismissive tone. "You win this round. Just get it done quickly, okay?"
Her tone was sharp, a hint of frustration breaking through her facade. Roy took a small measure of satisfaction in that. He wasn't completely powerless.
She unbuckled his dungarees and yanked down his Spider-Man pants with a rough tug. The cold air against his bare legs sent a shiver down his spine. He hated the way she treated him like a doll, a puppet to be manipulated.
As she plopped him on the cold plastic seat next to Mr. Snuggles, their eyes met for a brief moment. A flicker of defiance, a silent understanding, passed between them. It was a small thing, but it gave Roy a tiny spark of hope.
"There you go," Avril said, her voice strained. "Shake that rattle when you're finished, okay?"
She slammed the bathroom door shut behind her, leaving Roy alone with his thoughts and the indignity of the situation. He closed his eyes, focusing on the task at hand. The shame was still there, but a new determination simmered beneath it.
He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him break. He would endure this, play her game, but he wouldn't let it crush him. With a strained grunt, he managed to finish his business, the childish rattle clutched tightly in his hand. He wasn't a child, and he wouldn't be treated like one forever.
He shook the rattle with a force that surprised even himself, the sound echoing through the small bathroom. A moment later, the door creaked open and Avril peered in.
"Done already?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.
Roy met her gaze, a newfound steely glint in his eyes. "Yes," he said, his voice firm despite the lingering shame. "Can I wash my hands now?"
Avril hesitated, taken aback by his unexpected show of defiance. "Fine," she muttered, leading him to the sink.The indignity of it all threatened to overwhelm Roy. Here he was, a grown man, forced to bend over like a scolded child while Avril inspected his work. He clenched his fists, the anger a hot coal burning in his stomach.
Avril's movements were rough and impersonal, the baby wipes a stark contrast to the luxurious bath products he once used. Each swipe was a violation, a reminder of his reduced state. He winced, unable to control the sharp intake of breath.
"See?" Avril said, her voice laced with a smug satisfaction. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Just like a good boy."
The praise felt like another layer of humiliation. He wasn't a good boy; he was a prisoner in his own body, forced to play a role he didn't want. But beneath the anger, a thought flickered in his mind.
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This is a great story. Very well written. I love the way it expresses the emotions they experience
-
Shame burned in Roy's cheeks as Avril finished the demeaning task. Every touch was a violation, a constant reminder of his helplessness. He gritted his teeth, vowing to find a way out of this twisted game.
"Alright, then," Avril chirped, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness that did little to hide the tension in her eyes. "Let's see what we've got here in this little potty."
She reached down with a theatrical flourish, grabbing the plastic pot as if it were a prize. Roy's stomach churned. The thought of her parading the contents of his most private business in front of him, and potentially capturing it for her grotesque "baby album," was unbearable.
"There's no need for that," he forced out, his voice tight.
Avril's smile faltered for a second, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "No need?" she echoed, the sweetness in her voice replaced by a dangerous edge. "But how will we know if you've been a good boy? We need to see if you've done your 'poo-poo.'"
She reached for her phone with a predatory glint in her eyes. "Alright, show me when you're done," Avril chirped, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness that did little to mask the underlying tension.
Roy clenched his jaw, the childish command a fresh humiliation. He closed his eyes, focusing on the task at hand, all the while vowing to find a way out of this twisted charade.
A moment later, a wave of relief washed over him. He opened his eyes, meeting Avril's gaze with a flicker of defiance.
"Done," he said curtly, holding the potty out in front of him like a shield.
Avril's smile faltered for a second, surprise flickering across her face. "Already?" she echoed, a hint of something akin to disappointment in her voice.
Roy held the potty firm, refusing to let her dictate the pace of this game. "Yes," he repeated, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands.
He knew what was coming next – the dreaded photo for the so-called "baby album." The very thought of it filled him with dread.
"Alright, alright," Avril said, a touch of impatience creeping into her voice. "Let's see what we've got here." We need to see if you've done your 'poo-poo.'"
She reached out for the potty, but Roy instinctively recoiled. "No pictures," he blurted out, the words Roy felt a surge of terror as Avril whipped out her phone. Holding a full potty was humiliating enough, but having a picture of it immortalized in her twisted "baby album" was a nightmare. Shame burned in his throat like acid.
"Don't you dare," he choked out, his voice a mix of anger and fear. He knew he was pushing his luck, but the thought of that picture being used against him in the future was unbearable.
Avril's smile faltered for a second, surprise flickering in her eyes. This wasn't the passive compliance she was used to. "But Roy," she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness, "it'll be a perfect picture for the album! 'Look at little Roy, all grown up and using his potty!' Everyone will love it.Roy's world went white hot with anger. Avril might have faltered, but a new voice chimed in, even more grating. "Apple," he snarled, his voice laced with venom, "don't you dare!"
Avrils phone, flashed its glowing screen, the picture of his humiliation captured for eternity. A wave of nausea washed over him, the weight of the full potty suddenly unbearable.
Avril, emboldened by the phone's compliance, snatched the potty from his grasp. "There, there, Roy," she cooed, her voice dripping with saccharine sympathy. "See, Avril thinks you're a big boy for using the potty! Now, empty it and clean it up nicely. We don't want any messes, do we?"
Roy stood frozen, a silent scream trapped in his throat. Shame burned through him, but beneath it, a spark of defiance flickered, refusing to be extinguished. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him completely broken.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "Fine," he muttered, his voice tight with loathing. He took the cleaning supplies Avril thrust at him, his movements robotic. As he scrubbed at the plastic pot, the indignity of it all fueled his simmering anger.
"Why are you doing this?" he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.
Avril paused, a flicker of something crossing her face – annoyance? Uncertainty? "Because you need to be taken care of, Roy," she said finally, her voice clipped. "You're not a grown man anymore."Roy shuffled towards the bedroom, the sting of humiliation from the picture still fresh. He grasped the doorknob, a sliver of defiance warring with the ingrained obedience. He wouldn't let them break him, not entirely.
Opening the door, he scanned the dresser. His stomach lurched. There were no Captain America pajamas, no other superhero options. Just a single pair of his beloved Spider-Man pajamas and a stack of… pink princess pajamas adorned with sparkly unicorns and frills.
Disgust battled with confusion. This wasn't a mistake, it had to be deliberate. But why? Was Avril trying to taunt him further? Or was there something else at play?
He hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the Spider-Man pants. Defiance simmered within him, but complete rebellion felt unwise. He needed a plan, and a single pair of superhero pants wouldn't be enough.
He picked up one of the pink princess pants as well, the garish fabric a stark contrast to the red and blue of Spider-Man. Holding them both, he returned to the living room, a silent challenge in his eyes.
Avril, perched on the sofa, looked up as he entered. A flicker of surprise crossed her face when she saw the mismatch, replaced by a cruel smile as she saw the princess pants.
"Well, well," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Look at you, Roy! Picking out your outfits just like a big boy!"
Roy ignored her, his jaw clenched tight. He held out the Spider-Man pajamas.
"Spider-Man for me," he declared, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands.
Avril's smile faltered for a second, but she recovered quickly. "Oh no course not," she said, snatching the Spider-Man pajamas and shoving them onto the teddy bear. "But what about you, Roy? Don't you want to look pretty like a princess?"
Her voice dripped with forced cheer, the implication clear. Roy met her gaze, his defiance hardening into a silent vow.
"No," he said simply, his voice surprisingly steady. She held up the pink princess pants, the fabric mocking him with its absurdity. "I don't wear pink."
Avril's smile faltered for a real moment this time. A flicker of something akin to uncertainty crossed her face. Was he actually defying her?
Before she could respond, Roy thrust the princess pajamas at her. "Here," he said, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. But I'm not wearing them."
The air crackled with tension. Avril stared at him, the princess pants a flimsy barrier between them. For a moment, it felt like they were locked in a silent battle of wills.
The indignity of it all burned in Roy's throat, but beneath the shame, a flicker of hope danced. He had pushed back, defied her in a small way, and she hadn't broken him.Roy's blood ran cold as Avril's grip tightened on his arm, dragging him towards the princess pants. Mortification burned through him, hotter and more painful than any physical slap. He felt like a puppet, his body being manipulated against his will.
"No!" he roared, his voice raw with defiance. He dug his heels in, resisting her pull. "I won't wear them! I'm not a little girl!"
Avril's smile, once sugary sweet, twisted into a sneer. "Oh, but in my house, Roy," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, "you are exactly what I say you are."
She yanked him harder, and with a stumble, he landed in front of the pile of pink nightmares. Tears welled in his eyes, a mix of anger and humiliation. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him cry, though.
Anvril then yanked the pants up to his waist swiftly follow by his pale blue dungries Now thats better dinner is nearly ready bring Mr Snuggles with you and get in to the kitchen. Roy's stomach churned, not just from hunger but from the impending humiliation. He watched with a mixture of disgust and resignation as Avril bustled around the kitchen, preparing "baby Roy's" dinner. It wasn't real food – pureed mush in a bowl with a cutesy cartoon spoon. The indignity of it all burned in his throat.
"Alright, open wide, baby Roy," Avril cooed, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness. She strapped a bib adorned with cartoon animals around his neck, the whole scene a grotesque parody of childhood.
Roy clenched his jaw, refusing to cooperate. He wouldn't play her game any further.
"Come on, now," Avril chirped, her voice losing its forced cheer. "Don't be difficult. Airplane coming in for a landing!"
She hovered the spoon towards his mouth, the contents threatening to spill. Roy shut his mouth tight, a silent rebellion forming in his chest.
"Roy," Avril's voice turned hard. "Open your mouth or there will be consequences."
The threat hung heavy in the air. Roy knew she wasn't bluffing. But giving in felt like surrendering the last shred of his dignity.
He locked eyes with her, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. "I'm not a baby," he said. "I can feed myself."
Avril's smile faltered for a second, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Then, a cruel smile twisted her lips. "Oh, but Roy," she purred, her voice dripping with mock concern, "you're much too messy to feed yourself. Remember the last time? Spilled food everywhere! We can't have that, can we?"
She held up her phone, a silent threat. The picture of him holding the overflowing potty flashed in his mind. He gritted his teeth. He hated giving in, but the thought of that picture being used against him again was unbearable.
With a defeated sigh, he opened his mouth a fraction. Avril practically shoved the spoon in, the mush a bland, tasteless paste. She forced another spoonful in, then another, her smile widening with each successful feed.
"See, Roy," she cooed, wiping a non-existent smear from his cheek with the bib, "that wasn't so hard, was it? Such a good boy!"
As she snapped a picture of him, his face smeared with food, Roy felt a surge of shame and anger
Instead, he locked eyes with her, his voice firm despite the tremor running through him. "You can force me to wear these," he said, gesturing at the pajamas, "but you can't force me to break. I won't be your puppet."
As he sat there, the smell of food wafting from the kitchen, Roy knew this was fa
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Loving this story. And cant wait until he accepts his new position in the home.
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Roy's stomach clenched as Saturday bled into a seemingly endless afternoon. The thought of work on Monday, a return to normalcy, was the only thing keeping him going. The promise of a reprieve, even a temporary one, fueled a flicker of hope within him.
Around 6:30, Avril's chillingly cheerful voice shattered the silence. "Bath time for baby Roy!" she declared, a saccharine sweetness coating her words. Dread coiled in Roy's gut. He knew the routine – the indignity of being stripped naked, the childish bath toys, the constant reminder of his forced regression.
He watched with apprehension as Avril ran the bath, the sound of rushing water filling the room. Then, with a sickeningly sweet smile, she turned towards him.
"Since you've been such a good boy today, Roy," she cooed, her voice dripping with forced cheer, "you get a special reward before your bath."
Roy's heart hammered against his ribs. He knew this "reward" wouldn't be anything good. In Avril's twisted world, rewards often came with a heavy price.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice wary.
"Well," Avril drawled, her eyes glinting with something cruel, "since you've been so good at wearing your big boy clothes, maybe you're ready for something a little… less restrictive."
A cold dread washed over Roy. He knew exactly what she was implying. His breath hitched in his throat, a silent plea forming in his eyes. But Avril ignored it, a predatory smile playing on her lips.
"Off with the clothes, then, Roy," she chirped, her voice laced with forced sweetness. "Let's get you ready for your bath… and your reward."
-
Roy's blood ran cold. The indignity of being forced naked on the bathroom floor was already excruciating, but the addition of gloves and lubricant jar sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through him. This was a new level of violation, a boundary that Avril hadn't dared to cross before. His mind raced, searching for a way out, a defense against this new humiliation.
"No!" he roared, his voice raw with a mixture of fear and defiance. He scrambled back on his hands and knees, putting as much distance between himself and Avril as possible. "I won't let you do that! You can't!"
Avril's smile faltered for a second, surprise flickering in her eyes. She hadn't expected such a fierce reaction. "But Roy," she cooed, her voice laced with fake sweetness, "this is just part of your hygiene routine. Like a baby needs diaper cream, you need this to stay comfortable."
"This isn't diaper cream!" he retorted, his voice shaking with a primal fear. "This is wrong! And I won't be a part of it!"
The air crackled with tension. For a moment, they stood frozen in a bizarre tableau, a silent battle of wills unfolding. A flicker of something akin to fear crossed Avril's face for the first time. Was he bluffing? Would he dare defy her directly, on something this personal?
The moment stretched on, filled with a suffocating silence. Finally, with a defeated sigh, Avril peeled off the gloves, the rubber snapping with a satisfying pop. The jar of vasoline landed on the counter with a dull thud.There did Roy enjoy that her finger pushing against his enlarged prostate.She noticed Roy had been pushing back on to her fat finger. She smiled to herself when she saw Roys small linp willy dribbling semen o to the bathroom tiles. Oh my Roy did enjoy that!!! She gave his bottom a playfull slap You see Roy when your a good boy you get rewarded
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The air crackled with a tension so thick it felt suffocating. Roy remained on his hands and knees, his body a statue carved from shame. A strangled sob escaped his throat, a pathetic sound that echoed in the sterile bathroom.
Across from him, Avril's face contorted in disgust. She ripped off the gloves, the rubber snapping with a satisfying pop that seemed to hang heavy in the air.
"What is this?" she shrieked, her voice laced with a fury that sent shivers down Roy's spine. "You disgusting little...you pooped on my finger" She trailed off, her face contorted in a mask of revulsion.
Shame burned through Roy, a white-hot fire that consumed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to disappear. This wasn't just humiliation anymore; it was a complete and utter rejection of his being.
"You don't deserve any rewards after this, Roy!" Avril roared, her voice shaking with fury. "You're a filthy, disgusting little boy who needs to be punished!"
A spark of defiance flickered in the ashes of Roy's despair. He wouldn't let her break him completely. He forced his eyes open, meeting her gaze with a newfound resolve.
"It was an accident," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I didn't mean to."
Avril's eyes narrowed, her face a mask of cold fury. "Accidents happen to babies, Roy," she snarled. "But big boys know how to take care of themselves… or they face the consequences."
She grabbed his arm, her grip like a vice. "We're going to have a little chat about responsibility, young man," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "And this time, you're going to learn your lesson."
As she dragged him out of the bathroom, a cold dread gripped Roy. The humiliation was one thing, but the look in Avril's eyes promised something far worse. He had a sickening feeling that this "lesson" would push him to the very edge, a test of his will to resist, his sanity.
-
Roy stumbled out of the bathroom, the harsh light of the kitchen blinding him momentarily. The cold air stung his bare skin, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the bathroom. Avril shoved him roughly towards the corner, her face contorted in a mask of disgust.
"You think you can get away with this?" she spat, her voice laced with venom. "You'll learn to take care of yourself, Roy, one way or another."
She stormed over to a cupboard, yanking open the doors with a bang. Roy watched her movements with a mixture of fear and defiance. He knew this wasn't over.
Avril reappeared, a bottle of pungent liquid and a large spoon clutched in her hands. Roy's blood ran cold. He recognized the castor oil, a vile-tasting purgative used as a punishment in his younger years.
"Open your mouth," Avril commanded, her voice cold.
Roy squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched tight. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of his obedience.
A cruel smile played on Avril's lips. She pinched his nose shut with a vice-like grip. Panic surged through Roy, the primal need for air overriding his defiance. He gasped, his mouth involuntarily falling open.
Avril seized the opportunity, shoving the spoonful of oil down his throat. The sickly sweet, oily taste flooded his senses, triggering a gag reflex. He sputtered and choked, tears streaming down his face.
As Avril forced another spoonful in, a primal scream ripped from his throat. Shame and humiliation burned through him, but beneath it all, a flicker of defiance remained.
He wouldn't break. He would find a way to fight back, a way to escape this twisted nightmare.
Avril shoved the spoon back into the bottle, her face flushed with exertion and a hint of sadistic satisfaction. "There," she sneered. "That should teach you some manners."
She shoved him back towards the corner, the rest of the castor oil bottle glinting ominously in her hand.
Roy stood there, his body trembling, the vile aftertaste of the oil coating his mouth.
-
Roy doubled over in the corner, his stomach churning in a violent rebellion against the vile concoction forced upon him. Cramps twisted his insides with a relentless grip, each wave of pain punctuated by a choked gasp escaping his lips. Panic gnawed at the edges of his reason, the primal need for relief overriding any shred of remaining pride.
"A-Avril," he stammered, his voice raw with a mixture of shame and desperation. "Please... the potty..."
Avril, arms crossed and face etched with a chilling indifference, watched him writhe. "I told you," she said, her voice dripping with a cruel satisfaction that sent shivers down Roy's spine. "This is what happens when you disobey."
His pleas devolved into whimpers, tears blurring his vision into a watery mess. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold back the inevitable, but the pain became a relentless tide he could no longer resist. A choked sob escaped his lips as a warm, wet sensation spread down his legs, the unmistakable evidence of his defeat staining the cold, sterile floor.
Shame burned through him like a white-hot fire, consuming him from the inside out. He had failed. He had been reduced to this – a helpless child, humiliated and broken in the sterile corner of the kitchen. The childish clothes he was forced to wear hung limply on his thin frame, mocking him with their absurdity.
As the violent cramps subsided, leaving behind a dull ache and a chilling emptiness, Roy dared to open his eyes. He expected to see either gloating triumph or cold satisfaction on Avril's face. Instead, a flicker of something far more complex crossed her features – an emotion he couldn't quite decipher. Was it disgust? Disappointment? It was a fleeting expression, quickly replaced by a steely resolve that sent a fresh jolt of fear through him.
"Clean yourself up," she commanded, her voice devoid of warmth, laced only with icy finality. "And don't you dare think you're getting out of this punishment. There's more where that came from."
She tossed a roll of paper towels at him with a disdainful flick of her wrist, the plastic wrapper making a hollow sound as it landed at his feet. Then, with a swish of her skirt, she disappeared from the kitchen, leaving him alone with the weight of his humiliation and the sickening reminder of his helplessness.
Roy sat there, the damp clothes clinging uncomfortably to him. The defiance that had flickered within him moments ago dimmed considerably, replaced by a crushing sense of despair so profound it threatened to suffocate him. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own body and in this twisted reality Avril had constructed.
-
Roy stared at the mess on the floor, shame a bitter taste in his mouth. The urge to crawl into a corner and disappear was strong, but a flicker of defiance pushed him forward. He wouldn't let her see him completely broken.
Grasping the paper towels with trembling hands, he began to clean, the harsh texture scraping against his raw skin. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he blinked them back, determined to maintain some semblance of dignity.
The minutes stretched into an eternity as he scrubbed at the stain, the paper towels disintegrating in his grip. Just as he finished, Avril reappeared in the doorway.
"Took you long enough," she sneered, her voice devoid of any sympathy. "Now get in the bath. The water's getting cold."
Roy's heart sank. Another indignity awaited him. He longed to defy her, to scream at her for the humiliation, but the memory of the castor oil and the fear in his gut kept him silent.
He shuffled towards the bathroom, the oversized clothes he was forced to wear flapping around his ankles. The cold air sent shivers down his spine, but it was nothing compared to the dread pooling in his stomach.
As he stepped into the bathroom, a wave of stale steam hit him. The bathtub, overflowing with lukewarm water, looked like a prison. A razor and shaving cream sat on the edge, glinting under the harsh light.
"Get in," Avril commanded, her voice cold.
Roy hesitated, a silent plea in his eyes. Anything but this.
"Don't make me repeat myself," she growled, taking a menacing step towards him.
He climbed into the tub, the lukewarm water barely offering any comfort. Avril knelt beside him, her gaze sharp and predatory.
"We're going to get rid of all that unnecessary hair," she said, her voice laced with a twisted sense of pleasure.
Roy watched in horror as she picked up the razor, the sharp blade reflecting the harsh light. Panic surged through him, the threat of another violation adding to the humiliation he already felt.
"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Don't argue," she snapped, her grip tightening around the razor. "This is for your own good."
As the cold metal touched his skin, a primal scream ripped from Roy's throat. The world blurred into a nightmarish kaleidoscope of fear and helplessness. He was trapped, a puppet at the mercy of her cruel whims.
-
Roy emerged from the bath, his skin raw and exposed, feeling utterly vulnerable. Despite the room's warmth, he shivered uncontrollably, the cold of the experience clinging to him more than the water droplets that trickled down his hairless body.
Avril, a grim expression etched on her face, roughly dried him off with a towel, her touch impersonal and clinical. As she fumbled with the oversized terry cloth nappy and plastic pants, a sickening feeling of regression washed over Roy.
Without a word, she led him down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the cold floor. He felt like a small child being dragged to punishment, a feeling amplified by the oversize clothes hanging loosely on his thin frame.
They arrived at a spare room, a space usually reserved for guests. But on the single bed lay Mr. Snuggle, his oversized teddy bear form a cruel mockery of comfort in this oppressive situation.
"This is your room now," Avril said, her voice cold and clipped. "No more messes in my bathroom or kitchen. Do you understand?"
Roy nodded mutely, unable to tear his eyes away from the bear. The familiar object in this unfamiliar setting felt like a twisted attempt to manipulate him back into a submissive child. He yearned to scream, to lash out, but the fear that had become his constant companion kept him silent.
-
Avril tucked the thin sheet around Roy's shivering form. Her touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, sending chills down his spine.
"Now, listen closely, Roy," she said, her voice a chilling whisper. "Since Mr. Snuggles is your responsibility now, you need to make sure he's kept clean. Just like everything else in this house."
Roy's heart hammered against his ribs. This was a new kind of cruelty, a twisted attempt to burden him with the responsibility of mimicking the violation he himself had just endured. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
He looked at Mr. Snuggle, the once comforting teddy bear now a symbol of her twisted control. The thought of replicating what Avril had done, of participating in this charade, filled him with a horrifying dread.
"I... I don't know how," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
"Don't be ridiculous, Roy," Avril's voice turned hard. "It's not rocket science. Surely you can manage to keep your precious teddy bear clean."
Her words were laced with a cruel mockery, deliberately blurring the lines between reality and her twisted game. Tears pricked at Roy's eyes, blurring his vision. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him cry, wouldn't let her witness the complete breakdown she seemed determined to orchestrate.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing down the rising tide of nausea. "Mr. Snuggle doesn't need a bath," he mumbled, his voice surprisingly firm.
"Doesn't he?" Avril's voice turned sharp, the playful facade slipping momentarily. "Perhaps you need a refresher then, don't you?"
She took a menacing step closer, her shadow falling over him. But this time, a flicker of something akin to fear crossed her features, a fleeting emotion quickly replaced by a renewed coldness.
"We'll discuss this in the morning," she said curtly. "Goodnight, Roy."
-
So lovely. The humiliations grow more and more. I love seeing him forced to poo
-
Roy woke up on Sunday morning, a familiar dampness reminding him it was time for a bathroom trip. He glanced over at Mr. Snuggles, his giant teddy bear, who was still nestled close beside him. Roy remembered how much fun they had playing yesterday, and how Mr. Snuggles always felt soft and comforting to cuddle.
Suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open and Avril peeked in, her eyes blinking sleepily. "Good morning, sleepyhead!" she chirped.
Roy, caught a little off guard by Avril's arrival, fumbled slightly under the covers. "Good morning, Avril."
Avril noticed him looking a little flustered and his arms wrapped around Mr. Snuggles. She smiled playfully. "Looks like you and Mr. Snuggles had a real cuddle party last night! Did he keep you warm?"
Roy peeked out from under the covers, a touch of red creeping up his cheeks. "Yeah, Mr. Snuggles is the best cuddler ever!"Avril knelt beside Roy's bed, a gentle smile on her face. "Good morning, sleepyhead! Did you sleep well?"
Roy, still a little shy from being caught cuddling Mr. Snuggles, mumbled a greeting. "Yeah, I slept okay."
Avril noticed a slight dampness around Roy's pajamas. "Looks like Mr. Snuggles kept you so warm last night, you might have had a little accident," she said in a kind and understanding voice.
"Don't worry, these things happen sometimes, especially with all the fun you were having!"
Roy's cheeks flushed a little red, but he felt relieved Avril wasn't angry. "Oh," he mumbled, looking down at his lap.
"How about this," Avril continued cheerfully. "Since you're already a bit damp, why don't we see if you need to use the potty? Sometimes after a long night's sleep, our bodies need to go poo poo even before we wake up completely."
Roy peeked up at Avril, considering her suggestion. He did feel a familiar pressure in his tummy. "Okay," he agreed shyly.
Avril helped Roy out of bed and took him to the bathroom. "Let's see if you can go on the potty," she encouraged him.
Roy sat on the potty, a little unsure at first. But after a few moments, he felt a sense of relief as he managed to poop in the potty.
"Great job, Roy!" Avril cheered, clapping her hands gently. "You used the potty all by yourself!" Now then bend over and let me wipe that poopy bum. Roy bend over Avril parted his cheeks and wipe his bum clean. there that was not bad was it. Now lets get you dressed
-
Avril helped Roy get dressed for the day. He loved his cozy terry cloth diapers and familiar pale blue dungarees. They made him feel safe and comfortable."
"Let's head to the kitchen, Roy," Avril chirped. "I have a delicious surprise for breakfast!"
The kitchen was filled with the warm smell of something yummy. Roy's eyes widened with delight. He loved surprises, especially when they involved breakfast.
Avril helped him climb into a highchair she had just bought for him, which was adjusted to a comfortable height for him. She strapped him in, knowing he was getting older and learning to sit up straight on his own.
"Look, Roy!" Avril said, pointing towards the center of the table. "What do you see?"
Roy gasped. In the middle of the table was a colorful plate filled with what looked like green goo but was in fact liquidised brusell spouts and orange juice. Oh no please avril no Roy pleaded. But Avril was having none of it she held his nose and roughly spooned the whole bowl in his mouth make sure a good ammont was smeaed over Roys face. Then out came her phone snap another picture for the album.
"Wow!" Roy exclaimed
-
A satisfied burp escaped Roy's lips as Avril patted his back with a dishcloth. At sixty-eight, Roy's memory wasn't what it used to be, but the warmth of a full belly and the familiar scent of lavender soap stirred a comfortable familiarity. Avril, a formidable woman with a laugh that could rival a foghorn, beamed down at him.
"Alright, big fella," she declared, her voice booming. "Time for a change!!
Avril chuckled, oblivious to his confusion. With surprising strength for her age, she wrestled him into a new pink pair of dungarees, the kind with a cute little embroidered duck on the pocket. He felt a blush creep up his neck as she then proceeded to fasten a thick, disposable nappy around him.
"There you go, my darling," she cooed, pinching his cheek. Roy mumbled a protest, but it died in his throat. Avril, in her resolute way, was unstoppable. She gently propelled him towards the conservatory, a sun-drenched room filled with overflowing plant pots and a single, looming object in the center – a brightly colored playpen.
As he entered the pen, Roy felt a wave of childish apprehension. The floor was padded with soft mats Mr Snuggles the giant, grinning teddy bear stood sentinel in one corner, Avril followed him in, securing the gate with a firm click.
Roy looked up at her, a mixture of confusion and hurt clouding his eyes. Avril's smile faltered for a moment. Then, she knelt down on the padded floor, her eyes meeting his. "I know, Roy," she said softly, her voice thick with unshed tears. "This isn't the life you wanted. But it's the best I can do to keep you safe. As the day went on The sun, a relentless tyrant, beat down on the conservatory roof, transforming the playpen into a stifling oven. Roy, clad in his ill-fitting dungarees and the indignity of a nappy, slumped against the padded wall. Boredom, thick and suffocating, settled over him like a heavy blanket.
A shadow flickered across the fence. It was Avril, her bright eyes peering in with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Hey, Mr. Grumpy-gills," she chirped. "How's jail?"
Roy mumbled a disgruntled reply. "It's hot," he managed, his voice rusty from disuse. "And I'm thirsty."
Avril's smile widened. "Thirsty, huh?" she said, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. She disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a tiny, cartoon emblazoned bottle filled with bright red liquid.
"Here you go," she announced, holding it just out of Roy's reach. "Apple juice, the finest vintage for distinguished gentlemen like yourself."
Roy's eyes narrowed. The bottle was clearly meant for a much younger occupant of the playpen. "This is ridiculous, Apple," he croaked. "Give me a proper glass."
Avril tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sorry, Mr. Grumpy-gills," she teased. "Safety regulations and all that. Besides, this way, I get a picture for posterity."
Before he could protest further, she whipped out her phone and snapped a photo. The flash momentarily blinded him, and he grumbled under his breath. Defeated, he reached for the tiny bottle, feeling a surge of childish frustration.
As he took a hesitant sip, the sickly sweet juice flooded his mouth. It was lukewarm and tasted vaguely of plastic, a far cry from the cool glass of water he craved. Yet, with each reluctant gulp, a tiny spark of defiance flickered within him. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wouldn't let this situation break him. Roy drained the last drop of the overly sweet juice, a wave of nausea washing over him. On top of the stifling heat and soul-crushing boredom, his bladder was now screaming in protest. He looked up at Avril, his face flushed.
"Avril," he rasped, his voice laced with a newfound urgency. "I... I need to use the bathroom."
Avril's smile faltered for a moment. "Oh," she mumbled, a touch of seriousness entering her voice. "Right, well, you're wearing a nappy, remember?"
Roy's face contorted in disgust. The thought of using the nappy was unbearable. "No, no, not that!" he exclaimed, his voice rising. "I can't... I won't use that."
Avril sighed, a hint of exasperation creeping in. "Look, Mr. Grumpy-gills," she said, her voice firm. "You're not exactly mobile enough to make it to the bathroom on your own. The nappy is for wetting, that's what it's there for."
Roy felt a flicker of defiance. He wouldn't go down without a fight. Taking a deep breath, he tried to explain, his voice shaky but determined. "Listen, Avril," he began. "I appreciate you trying to help, but I can still hold it. For a while at least. But if I... if I need to go number two..."
His voice trailed off, hoping she'd understand. Avril 's expression softened as the realization dawned on her. "Oh," she said, her voice small. "Right, that's different."
Disappearing again for a moment, she reappeared with a brightly colored rattle, adorned with a cartoonish monkey face. "Here," she declared, handing it to him with a hesitant smile. "This is your... poo rattle. If you need to go number two, you just shake it real hard. Okay?"
Roy stared at the rattle, a mixture of amusement and disappointment warring within him. A rattle? Really? But then, a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. Perhaps this ridiculous situation could be turned to his advantage after all.
"A rattle, huh?" he chuckled, taking the brightly colored object from her hand.Abandoned in the stifling heat of the playpen, Roy's bravado quickly wilted. The pressure in his bladder grew, a relentless tide threatening to breach the dam of his pride. Shame burned in his throat as a warm dampness spread through his nappy. He squeezed his eyes shut, a sob escaping his lips.
Mr. Snuggles, the oversized teddy bear with its eternally cheerful grin, became an unlikely source of comfort. Roy slumped against it, burying his face in its plush fur. The tears came then, hot and silent, a maelstrom of frustration and indignity swirling within him.
Exhaustion, however, proved a stronger foe than humiliation. Sleep, a heavy, leaden blanket, descended upon him. He awoke with a start, the conservatory bathed in the orange glow of late afternoon. Avril stood before him, a large bowl of green, unidentifiable mush balanced precariously on her hip.
"Look who's awake!" she chirped, her voice strained but cheerful. "Time for dinner, big boy!"
Roy's stomach lurched. The memory of the lukewarm juice sent shivers down his spine. He opened his mouth to protest, but Avril cut him off.
"No arguments," she said, her voice firm. "You wouldn't want to be a big boy who doesn't eat his dinner, would you? And remember..." she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "...no more pictures if you're a good boy."
Roy flinched at the veiled threat. Defiance simmered within him, but it was quickly extinguished by a wave of fatigue and a gnawing emptiness in his stomach. He resigned himself to his fate, accepting the mush with a grimace. Each bite was a struggle, the bland, vaguely vegetable-like flavor coating his tongue. With every swallow, his stomach felt like a balloon on the verge of bursting.
"There you go, my champ!" Avril beamed, wiping a speck of mush from his chin. "All finished! Now, you can stay in your nappy until tea time. How does that sound?"
Roy opened his mouth to plead, the urgency to be changed burning in his bladder, but the words died in his throat. "You... you haven't been a very good boy today, Roy," Avril continued, her voice losing its earlier cheer. "So, playpen it is."
Disheartened and defeated, Roy slumped back against Mr. Snuggles. The indignity of it all threatened to overwhelm him. As Avril turned to leave, the stench of his own wetness filled his senses, a final humiliation in a day overflowing with them. He squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek, and surrendered to the suffocating confines of the playpen. Roy drifted in and out of consciousness, the oppressive heat of the conservatory clinging to him like a second skin. His stomach felt like a drum about to burst, the memory of the green mush churning uncomfortably. A dull ache settled in his lower abdomen, growing steadily into a series of sharp cramps that doubled him over.
Panic surged through him. He remembered the rattle, his "poo alert" as Apple had so helpfully dubbed it. But a quick scan of the playpen revealed it missing. Gone. Had Avril taken it? A wave of betrayal washed over him.
He tried to call out, but his voice emerged as a hoarse croak. Shame burned in his throat, thick and metallic. He couldn't stay like this. He couldn't use the nappy, not after the indignity of earlier. But the cramps intensified, leaving him with no choice.
With a grunt of exertion, Roy pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The world tilted precariously, the green mush churning in his stomach threatening to erupt. He couldn't sit down. It would be a disaster. A desperate plan formed in his mind.
He shuffled towards the farthest corner of the playpen, away from Mr. Snuggles, the only source of comfort he had left. The feeling intensified, an agonizing pressure building within him. There was no time for dignity, no room for pride. He braced himself, a strangled cry escaping his lips.
A warm, unwelcome sensation spread down his legs. Shame washed over him in a sickening wave, but it was quickly eclipsed by a wave of relief so intense it brought tears to his eyes. He stayed on his hands and knees, panting, the stench of his own waste filling the air.
There was no cleaning up. No way to call for help. He simply collapsed back onto the padded floor, defeated. The once cheerful Mr. Snuggles now loomed over him, a silent witness to his humiliation. The warmth from the accident seeped into the nappy, a cold comfort in the oppressive heat. As exhaustion finally overtook him, a single tear rolled down his cheek, a silent plea for this nightmare to end.Avril's cheerful humming died abruptly as she entered the conservatory. A wrinkle formed between her brows as she caught a whiff of something decidedly unpleasant. Her gaze fell upon Roy, slumped on the playpen floor, a picture of utter misery. But it was the sight of Mr. Snuggles, now sporting a decidedly less cheerful brown stain on his side, that confirmed her suspicions.
"Roy!" she bellowed, her voice laced with a fury he hadn't heard before. "What have you done?"
Roy flinched, his head snapping up. Shame burned in his throat, acrid and suffocating. He tried to stammer out an apology, but the words wouldn't come.
Avril marched towards him, the rattle clutched triumphantly in her hand. "Why didn't you use the poo rattle?" she demanded, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and disappointment.
Roy's eyes widened. The rattle. He vaguely remembered searching for it earlier, a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of control. "I... I looked for it," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "But it wasn't there."
A flicker of suspicion crossed Avril's face. She glanced down at the rattle in her hand, then back at Roy. Her shoulders slumped slightly, the anger draining away to be replaced by a weary resignation.
"Oh, Roy," she sighed, her voice softer now. "I... I took it away earlier. I thought..." she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Shame turned to a bitter anger in Roy's gut. So, it wasn't just humiliation, it was a deliberate act of control. He opened his mouth to retort, but a wave of nausea washed over him.Here's how we can continue the story while maintaining a more mature and respectful tone:
Avril, her face grim, found Roy slumped in the playpen, the smell of his accident hanging heavy in the air. She sighed, a deep weariness settling in her shoulders. This wasn't how she pictured their golden years.
"Alright, Roy," she announced, her voice firm but devoid of anger. "Time for a bath."
Without waiting for a response, she scooped him up, her movements surprisingly strong despite her age. Roy, feeling a wave of dizziness, looked away, shame burning in his cheeks.
The coolness of the bathroom tiles greeted him as Avril deposited him on the edge of the bathtub. He watched as she filled it with warm water, the simple act somehow comforting.
"I'm going to help you get cleaned up," Avril said, her voice soft. "Then we can talk about what happened."
Roy nodded mutely, a flicker of hope battling with the humiliation. As she helped him out of his clothes, his vulnerability was laid bare, not just physically, but emotionally. Yet, Avril's touch was gentle, her movements respectful.
In the warm water, shame began to recede, replaced by a sense of relief and a flicker of gratitude. As she washed him, Avril spoke softly, reminiscing about their younger days, the days before memory lapses and accidents. She spoke of their shared dreams, their adventures, weaving a tapestry of a life well-lived.
When she finished, she helped him out of the bath and wrapped him in a warm towel. He sat on the edge of the tub, his head bowed, waiting for the inevitable reprimand. But the reprimand did not come. Avril decided that it would be best if Roy worked from home. So she drafted an email and sent. it to Roy's boss Trudy. She showed it to Roy Whilst he still sat naked on the edge of the band. All you have to do is press send. But if you don't, I may send another pictures of you. that are going to go in the baby of them. So if you know what's best for you.
-
Dear Trudy,
I am writing to request a temporary work-from-home arrangement for the next few weeks.
I am currently in the midst of potty training at home, my wife Arvrl is fully supporting this process. This would allow me to be more readily resolve my issue ensuring that I can complete my work effectively and efficiently.
I am committed to maintaining my usual level of focus and productivity while working from home. I will be sure to designate a quiet workspace with minimal distractions to ensure uninterrupted work time.
Avril is happy to discuss any adjustments to my schedule that might be necessary to facilitate a smooth transition to working from home. Please her know if you'd like to schedule a quick call to discuss the logistics further.
Thank you for your understanding and flexibility.
Sincerely,
Roy
-
The phone rang, shattering the fragile peace Avril had built. It was Trudy. Avril's stomach lurched. Trudy wasn't just her boss; she'd been Avril's friend for years. This call could shatter both aspects of their relationship.
With a trembling hand, Avril answered. "Hello, Trudy."
Trudy's voice was a low murmur, laced with a concern that sent shivers down Avril's spine. "Avril, listen. This is difficult for me to say, and..." Trudy hesitated.
"Just say it, Trudy," Avril forced out, her voice tight.
Trudy took a deep breath. "There have been some... incidents at the office involving Roy. Wetting incidents, like before. But this time..." Her voice trailed off.
Avril's heart hammered against her ribs. Had their plan failed? Was Roy still having accidents? But Trudy's next words shattered that hope entirely.
"This time," Trudy continued, her voice grim, "it wasn't just accidents. There have been reports of Roy...peeping up women's skirts."
The blood drained from Avril's face. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. This wasn't the medical issue they'd prepared for. This was a whole new level of horrifying.
"Peeping?" Avril stammered, the word a foreign sound in her own ears. "Roy? That's impossible!"
"I wish it were, Avril," Trudy said sadly. "There have been multiple reports, and security footage confirms it. Look, I know you two are going through something, and I understand Roy might need help. But this behavior is unacceptable. I can't have it in my workplace, and frankly, it's a safety issue."
Avril's mind raced. Protect Roy? Expose him? Neither option felt good. But protecting him could put other women at risk.
"Trudy," Avril finally managed, her voice trembling, "I need some time to process this. Can I call you back?"
"Of course," Trudy said. "But Avril, we need a plan. And Roy needs help. Professional help." The line went dead.
The shrill ring of the phone pierced the tense silence Avril shared with Roy. She exchanged a worried glance with him before answering, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
"Avril, it's Trudy," Trudy's voice boomed through the receiver, laced with a controlled fury. "Look, under the circ-umstances, working from home seems like the only option for Roy right now. But don't think for a second this is him getting off scot-free."
The phone pressed against Avril's ear felt hot and heavy. Trudy's voice, usually friendly and warm, crackled with a cold fury.
"Avril, listen," Trudy said, her voice clipped. "While I understand the whole wetting thing must be humiliating for Roy, what happened afterwards... that's a whole different story.
Trudy's voice, usually warm and friendly, softened with concern come on Avril tell me what been going on. Avril recounted the weekend's events. "So, the incontinence hasn't improved, then?" Trudy asked sympathetically.
Avril sighed, a weary sound. "No, Trudy. In fact, it's gotten a bit worse. There have been a few accidents at home, and..." she hesitated, a blush creeping up her neck, "well, we had a bit of an incident at Tesco."
Trudy chuckled humorlessly. "Oh dear. What happened?"
"We were in the cereal aisle," Avril explained, "and Roy just...let go. Right there, in front of everyone." Shame laced her voice.
"Oh, Avril," Trudy said, her voice laced with empathy. "That must have been mortifying."
"It was awful," Avril admitted. "Everyone was staring. I just wanted to crawl into a hole."
Avril took a deep breath and continued, "That's when I made a decision. I know it might sound strange, but..." she hesitated again, "I decided to try adult diapers with Roy."
Trudy, ever the pragmatist, surprised Avril with her response. "Actually, that might not be a bad idea," she said. "It could minimize the accidents and the public embarrassment."
Emboldened by Trudy's understanding, Avril continued, "And there was another thing a freind suggested positive reinforcement for using the potty. So, I, well..." she trailed off again.
Trudy, you won't believe what happened this morning!"
"Roy did it, Trudy! He actually did it!" Avril practically shouted, barely containing her excitement. "He pooped on the potty!"
Trudy's voice perked up at the other end. "Really? Avril! A small victory, but a victory nonetheless."
Avril filled Trudy in on the details – how Roy had toddled over to the potty with a determined look, and the triumphant moment when he finally produced results.
Trudy chuckled on the other end. The point is, he used the potty!
The conversation took a slightly more subdued turn when Avril confessed another detail. "There was... another incident this morning, though," she admitted hesitantly.
"Oh?" Trudy asked, her concern returning.
"Well," Avril explained, "after his potty triumph, I put him in a fresh nappy on Sunday and put him in the playpen. A few minutes later, I heard a rather…distinctive sound."
Trudy winced in sympathy. "Don't tell me."
"Yup," Avril sighed. "He managed to mess his nappy too."
"I'll keep you updated on how it goes, Trudy," Avril promised. "
"Of course," Trudy replied. "That goes without saying. In the meantime, take care of yourselves, Avril. , maybe we can brainstorm some even more outrageous ideas together." I will email you with some suggestion Trudy said giggling
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Avril's blood ran cold as she absorbed her conversation with Trudy. Fury, hot and raw, bubbled up within her. The revelation of Roy's peeping wasn't just another layer of humiliation; it felt like a betrayal of their entire relationship. Here she was, grappling with his bedwetting and the public shame at Tesco's, and all the while, he was engaging in predatory behavior towards his colleagues.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the screen. This wasn't the man she thought she knew. This wasn't the future they'd built together. Wiping her face with a trembling hand, she knew what she had to do. Reset.
Stomping towards the bedroom, her vision narrowed in on Roy, oblivious, sprawled on the bed. "Get up, now!" she barked, her voice laced with a dangerous edge.
Roy startled awake, blinking at her in confusion. Before he could form a question, she grabbed his arm, the anger lending her a strength she hadn't known she possessed. He yelped in surprised protest as she dragged him, bare-legged and bewildered, across the hallway.
The bathroom door slammed shut behind them with a resounding crack. Ignoring his pleas of explanation, she ripped open a pack of nappies, the garish pink of the cartoon dinosaurs glaring back at her. With a roughness born of frustration, she wrestled the wet underwear off him and shoved him onto the changing mat.
"Hold still, Roy!" she snapped, her voice tight. Fumbling with the fasteners, she secured a fresh nappy around him, the lack of Mr. Snuggles a glaring reminder of their dwindling supplies. " Now get in to bed no mr snuggles for you.
You're not coming out until the morning," she declared, her voice a low growl. She needed space, time to process this new betrayal, this horrifying revelation that shattered the carefully constructed image of the man she loved.
Collapsing onto the bed, she wrapped her arms around herself, the deafening silence of the room broken only by her ragged sobs. The future, once a hopeful horizon, stretched before her now, a vast, uncertain landscape. Could she rebuild trust with Roy? Could their relationship survive the weight of his actions, the violation of her colleagues' safety? The questions echoed in the emptiness of her heart, and as sleep finally claimed her, there were no answers, only the cold sting of betrayal and the heavy weight of a future filled with doubt.
Roy woke with a jolt, the plastic crinkling beneath him a stark reminder of his situation. His bare skin itched, and the dampness of his nappy sent shivers down his spine. Sleep had been a fitful affair, punctuated by the worry of a morning washboard session promised by Avril's icy demeanor.
As the first rays of sunlight peeked through the blinds, the bathroom door creaked open. Avril stood there, her face a mask of stony anger. Without a word, she grabbed his arm and marched him, naked and shivering, towards the bathroom.
The change was swift and unceremonious. She ripped his soggy nappy off and tossed it on the floor and pointed at the potty. "Poo in that now," she said, her voice devoid of warmth, devoid of the love he once knew.
Roy, defeated, knew arguing was pointless. He sighed and squatted on the potty, pushing and grunting as instructed. A moment later, a satisfying plop filled the small space. Relief, however, was short-lived.
Avril said nothing. She grabbed him roughly by the hair, the pain momentarily silencing his gasp. Pushing him to the floor with a shove, she barked, "Dirty Boy?"
Shame burned through Roy. He deserved this, he knew. The peeping, the wetting, it all came crashing down on him in a wave of self-loathing. But this harshness, this sudden transformation of the woman he loved, it was terrifying.
Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision. He opened his mouth to speak, to plead, but no words came out. Avril simply glared at him, her face devoid of any emotion he could recognize. In that moment, Roy felt utterly alone, adrift in a sea of his own mistakes.
Roy slumped onto the cold floor, Avril grabbed him by the ear and dragged him in to the lounge. Avril loomed over him, her face an unreadable mask. He longed for the warmth of her touch, the familiar spark in her eyes, but all he saw was cold fury.
"Kneel on that rug," she said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. Roy obeyed, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. This wasn't the Avril he knew. This was a stranger, her eyes filled with a disappointment so profound it felt like a physical blow.
"Things are going to change, Roy," she began, her voice laced with steel. "And it starts now."
As she spoke, her voice grew colder with each word.
"Trudy has called me “She told me what you've been doing. Peeping at the women at work." Shame burned through him, a searing fire that choked back any attempt at denial.
"And that's not all," she continued, her voice dropping to a low growl. "She also told me about the wetting incident, how the women mocked you. You made them feel unsafe, Roy. Humiliated. “The memory of that day flooded back Roy’s faced turned red.
"As a result," Avril said, her voice clipped, "you're now effectively suspended from work. And we'll be working from home for the foreseeable future. You have a few days of grace to sort things out, but rest assured, this won't be the end of it with HR."
Roy's mind reeled. Suspension? This was worse than he'd imagined. How would he face his colleagues? How would he explain this to his everyone? The future he'd envisioned, a future built on stability and love, was crumbling around him.
The stark command shattered the fragile silence. "Get up, Roy," Avril ordered, her voice laced with a steely resolve. Roy, still numb from the earlier revelation and punishment, looked up at her with a mixture of fear and confusion.
"Conservatory. Now," she added, gesturing towards the glass room attached to the back of the house.
Roy obeyed, the coolness of the air hitting him like a slap as he stepped out of the living room. Standing naked in the conservatory felt oddly humiliating, the expanse of glass offering little privacy from Avril's watchful gaze.
Avril in her voice cold. "Hands on your head. Face the garden."
Roy complied, his body trembling slightly from the chill and the weight of his shame. He couldn't understand the logic behind this new punishment, but he was too cowed to argue. Minutes ticked by in an agonizing silence, broken only by the chirping of birds outside.
Suddenly, the conservatory door creaked open and Avril reappeared, a determined glint in her eyes. She was carrying a bundle of black bin bags, their plastic rustling ominously. A horrifying realization dawned on Roy as he watched her approach.
Without a word, she marched to the far end of the conservatory, where a pile of dry leaves lay waiting for their next burning session. Avril knelt down, shoving a handful of leaves into one of the black bags. Reaching into another bag, she pulled out a garment – a familiar, well-tailored suit, Roy's best.
Her actions were methodical, almost ritualistic. She stuffed the suit into the bag with the leaves, then reached back in, pulling out another piece of clothing – a shirt, a pair of trousers. Each item of Roy's clothing followed the same path, stuffed unceremoniously into the black bags with the dry leaves.
Panic clawed at Roy's throat. "Avril, what are you doing?" he croaked, his voice hoarse. But she ignored him, her face set in a mask of grim determination.
Finally, with the last bag filled, Avril grabbed a lighter from her pocket. Roy's breath hitched. She wouldn't... she couldn't...
But Avril did. With a flick of her wrist, the lighter sparked to life, illuminating her face in an eerie orange glow. She held the flame to the pile of leaves and black bags, setting them ablaze.
Flames danced and flickered, casting long shadows across the conservatory. The acrid smell of burning plastic filled the air, stinging Roy's eyes. He watched in horrified fascination as his clothes, his entire wardrobe, turned to ash and smoke.
"What will I wear?" he finally managed to gasp, his voice barely a whisper.
. Roy slumped against the cool glass of the conservatory, the remnants of his life smoldering in the distance. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the image of the dancing flames consuming his clothes, his identity. Trapped, both physically by Avril's decree and emotionally by his own shame, he felt utterly broken.
A mechanical click announced Avril's return. No mercy flickered in her eyes, only a resolute coldness. "Now that that's done," she began, her voice devoid of warmth, "let's discuss the new rules of the house."
Roy opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Don't," she said, her voice laced with a barely suppressed anger. "No excuses, no justifications. You've had your chance to explain yourself, and frankly, your actions speak louder than any feeble attempts at apologies."
He flinched under her withering gaze. The childish desire to plead, to lash out, died on his lips. He knew he deserved this – the public humiliation, the loss of his clothes, the complete control she now exerted over him. But the way she treated him, like a scolded child, stung more than any physical punishment.
"Firstly," Avril continued, enunciating each word carefully, "you will be up at seven o'clock sharp every morning. No more late starts, no more wallowing in self-pity."
She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in before continuing. "Secondly, there will be a designated 'potty time'. You will use the potty, and I will check. No more accidents, no more wetting yourself like a baby."
Roy winced at the last statement. It was a low blow, a verbal reminder of his deepest shame. But he could offer no rebuttal. His actions, his inability to control himself, had invited this treatment.
Her tone softened slightly, but a steely resolve remained. "Finally, you will be completing a daily chore list. Cleaning, gardening, anything to contribute to this household instead of being a drain on it."
As she finished listing the new rules, Roy looked down at his bare skin, the stark reality of his situation hitting him like a physical blow. No clothes, no job, no freedom. He was at Avril's complete mercy, and the future stretched before him, a daunting landscape of strict schedules, forced therapy, and a constant reminder of his failures.
A single, choked sob escaped his lips. Shame burned through him, a searing heat that threatened to consume him whole. He knew this was his rock bottom, the consequence of his actions. But somewhere, beneath the layers of humiliation and despair, a flicker of hope remained. Perhaps, just perhaps, this harsh regimen was not just punishment, but a path to redemption, a chance to rebuild himself, piece by broken piece.
Avril's words hung in the air, heavy with malice. "This is day one of your new life, Roy," she declared, a twisted glint in her eyes. "And we're starting with a baby album."
Roy's stomach churned. A baby album? What kind of twisted punishment was this? The humiliation felt endless.
"Maybe the girls at work will like to see this," Avril continued, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "A visual reminder of what happens when you peep at them, wouldn't you say? A 'screw you' punishment instead of just saying 'screw you'."
Roy's mind raced. This wasn't about punishment; it was about revenge, a public shaming fueled by her anger. He wanted to scream, to plead, but the words wouldn't come. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own shame.
"But maybe I'm being too subtle," Avril mused, a sickeningly playful tone creeping into her voice. "Maybe a picture of you fully dressed wouldn't quite drive the point home. What do you say to showcasing the new baby clothes in all their glory?"
Her words were a monstrous proposal, a violation of his last shred of privacy. He wouldn't be just humiliated, he'd be objectified, turned into a spectacle for her amusement, and maybe, just maybe, for the amusement of her colleagues.
"However," she continued, her voice taking on a dismissive tone, "for now, let's start simple. Lie down on the floor in the conservatory with your legs open."
Roy's body recoiled in horror. This wasn't just humiliation, it was a blatant disregard for his dignity as a human being. He opened his mouth to protest, to beg for mercy, but the words died in his throat.
Avril didn't wait for a response. She grabbed her camera, the flash momentarily blinding him in the dimly lit conservatory. The click of the shutter echoed in the silence, a chilling reminder of the violation taking place.
Shame burned through Roy, a relentless fire consuming him from within. He squeezed his eyes shut, the image of his naked vulnerability etched onto his mind. He felt like a broken doll, stripped bare and posed for a cruel and twisted audience.
As Avril continued her cruel photoshoot, a flicker of defiance sparked within Roy. He wouldn't stay broken forever. He would fight for his dignity, for his freedom, and maybe, just maybe, for a chance at reconciliation with Avril, if she was even willing.
Roy felt utterly violated as Avril orchestrated her twisted photoshoot. His naked body, once a source of self-confidence, was now a canvas for her humiliation. Shame burned through him, a relentless fire scorching his insides.
Avril, however, seemed to relish her role as director. She barked orders, demanding ridiculous and degrading poses. Spread your legs wider. suc-k your thumb and look innocent. Crawl on all fours like a naughty baby. Each command was a fresh assault on his dignity, a step further into the abyss.
Despite the crushing humiliation, a spark of defiance flickered within him. He wouldn't give her the complete satisfaction of seeing him utterly broken. He gritted his teeth, forcing a semblance of defiance into his eyes with every forced pose.
As Avril commanded him to bend over, exposing his bare bottom yet again, a thought struck him. Maybe this wasn't just about revenge; maybe it was about control. Maybe by breaking him down to this infantile state, she was trying to assert complete dominion over him.
Avril seemed to relish her role. Her eyes gleamed with a predatory amusement as she barked out instructions, each one more ridiculous and demeaning than the last. suc-k your thumb harder, Roy. Look more innocent! Now crawl on all fours like a good little baby. "Alright, Roy," Avril purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Time to show the ladies what happens when you peep at them, wouldn't you say?"
She gestured towards the floor with a cruel smile. "Roll over on all fours, spread your legs wide, and show us your dirty bottom. Let's see how well you can behave like a good baby."
The words were a sickening combination of degrading and infantilizing. Roy's throat clenched tight, the urge to rebel warring with the fear of further humiliation.
Roy's blood ran cold. Rolling over on all fours, exposing his bare bottom - not just to Avril, but to an unseen audience of "ladies" - felt like the ultimate violation. Shame burned through him, a scorching fire that threatened to consume him. Yet, a flicker of defiance, a tiny ember fanned by the mention of his actions, refused to be extinguished.
Roy was mortified at the thought of the ladies at work and in particular Trudy seeing the photographs. He begged Avril not to show their photographs to the ladies at. Avril smiled Well, of course not. They’re gone in your baby album, and that’s our little a secret. But if you’re a naughty boy, the baby album might get shown around at work, and you wouldn’t like that, would you? Roy’s lip quivered with the thought of the extra humiliation. Avil demanded that the answer. Well, would you like that? Roy hesitated and muttered. No, I wouldn’t like that. And I think you should start calling me Nana. Now let me hear you say it. Come on, speak up. No, I wouldn't like that. Nana. Roy, now feeling tilted, totally defeated and trapped, crawled into the front room, totally naked. To see Avril holding. The dreaded princess pants. Come on, put these on. Let’s get your nice pink dungarees on you Then we can have breakfast. Can’t we I wonder what it is.
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Please can anybody let me know how I'm doing with this story? It's my first one. It's getting quite involved. and I hope everybody likes it. Please can somebody give me some suggestions as to where it can go
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naughty baby hubby you are doing extremely well, this story is excellent, I for one an enjoying it immensely, I ca't wait for more.
Thank you so much.
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I do love the direction of this story. Complete subjugation and humiliation. One bit of minor constructive criticism. You have a tendency to repeat certain phrases and lines, often close together. You could use an editor. And Avril's reactions are confusing. She is described as sometimes feeling fear or similar emotions, without any explanation for why she would be feeling that way. But otherwise this story is quite enjoyable. Thanks for writing it
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I'm always hesitant to comment too much on others' writing because I don't want to discourage anyone from contributing here. I also understand, however, that it's nice to get feedback so I'll make some brief notes that I hope you find useful. These are intended to be constructive and positive, so please disregard anything you find unhelpful!
First, thanks for contributing. It's a creative storyline. Although there are aspects of it I don't personally care for, that's strictly a matter of different tastes and not a reflection on the writing. I won't comment on that.
I echo mommasboy's comment that some of the emotional reactions seem to be a bit "unearned" in my opinion. It might be helpful to think more about what led up to a particular emotional reaction so that readers can understand where the character's head is at.
As far as the repetitive language, I think that's something we all have to work at. I know there are certain words I overuse in my own writing, but I try to use my computer software to help find when I'm being overly repetitive. Also always make use of whatever spelling and grammar software you may have available. I haven't picked up many spelling problems in your writing, but there are some occasional grammar slips.
Lastly, I would recommend you use the "preview" button before posting. I often find that the line spacing and line breaks I had in my offline file get messed up when I paste it into a post here. I always have to go back and add spaces, etc. to make it look right on the screen.
I hope these are helpful and encouraging. That's certainly how they are intended. Thanks again for your efforts.
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More, please?
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I’m really enjoying this story. In hope you are able to write more soon. x
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Please carry on with this lovely story, i am enjoying it very much
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It looks like this story has been abandoned, sadly