Mr. and Mrs. Cage part 8
Author: Deewet, Dec/17/2003 12:16:44 [-04]
I woke up confused and afraid. Falling asleep had been so easy in my thick diapers and suc-king on my pacifier. The problem was the vivid, unsettling dream. I was wondering the streets of a city, dressed in only a diaper and plastic pants. People were stopping and laughing, most of them familiar faces, although after awaking I couldn’t recall who they were. I was holding a pair of jeans so I ducked in an alley to pull them on. Unfortunately, my diaper was so large than I couldn’t pull the jeans over them. I tried and tried, whimpering with embarrassment. The diaper pins wouldn’t unlock, so I was stuck in my diapers for everyone to see that I was a sissy baby. Then I started peeing uncontrollably and everyone knew.
Awake in my baby bed, trapped by the bars, I wanted to go back to my life before the Cages. It was like after masturbating in my sister’s panties; I was ashamed and wanted nothing to do with my offending fetish.
I could hear Mrs. Cage talking downstairs, her voice light and somewhat reassuring. I’d tell her that I have had enough of this game and wished to go home.
While I waited, I tried to calm myself and stop the tears running down my cheeks. What kind of man was I: My romper bulging from thick wet diapers and plastic pants, ruffled socks on my feet, my hands helpless in thumb less mittens.
Finally, Mrs. Cage came to get me up from my nap. When she saw my tears, she rushed over. “What’s the matter, Mandy? Did you have a bad dream?”
I nodded and let the pacifier drop from my mouth. “I want to go home. I don’t want to be dressed as a baby girl anymore.”
She lowered my crib bars and held out her arms for a hug. I felt so lost that I rushed to her arms. I felt a little better as she lifted me out of the crib and over to the changing table.
“It’s just a dream, mommy’s here to make you fell better.”
I started to tell her more, but she stuck the pacifier back in my mouth. It wasn’t as if I were being forced to stay, but her soothing voice made my resolute melt. “Let’s get you into a dry diaper, you’ll feel much better.” She unsnapped the crotch of my romper. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about being my baby. It’s so much better than being alone.” My plastic pants were noisy as she pulled them down my smooth, hairless legs. I lifted my feet in the air so she could pull them over my feet. “Besides, where would you go? Is being homeless better than sleeping in a warm bed with no worries, everything being taken care of for you?”
She unpinned my soaked pink diaper. Cool air flowed around my bottom. It felt strange after the trapped heat of my wet diaper. I had to admit she was right. As she powdered me and pinned me in a new fluffy diaper, the anxiety after my dream faded. By the time she pulled my plastic pants back up my legs, she was telling me that most men would love to be small like me and to be babied. “Isn’t it so nice to not worry about going to the bathroom?” she asked me.
Ten minutes later, I was in a new outfit and so in love with Mrs. Cage. A baby love and trust that she would protect and care for me. My outfit was a pink sweater with white snowflakes, a plastic skirt that was pink and decorated with baby animals and balloons. Under the vinyl skirt, she put me in a fluffy petticoat. While she brushed out my hair, I started to actually worry about the end of the summer and about that lady earlier saying something about me want to stay longer.
“Let’s go see Daddy,” she said as she tied a ribbon in my hair.
Mr. Cage was in the television room, watching a basketball game. I was sat down on a blanket on the floor with several dolls. I loved basketball, but dressed like this I was retreating into another world and wished that he would switch to some cartoons. There was a long awkward silence when Mrs. Cage left, saying she was going to take a long bath. “Mandy’s just been changed,” she said as she left.
I didn’t look at Mr. Cage, instead I looked around the room. This was my first time in here. I suc-ked harder on my pacifier when I saw the wooden rocking horse in the corner. In the middle of the saddle protruded a rubber dil-do. I looked away quickly, but the image stayed with me. Would I be able to handle something like that?
Mr. Cage closed the door and sat back down on the couch. My heart raced. Was he expect another blow job or would I be riding that horse soon.