Roy's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he nervously clicked through the website. Images of adorable young women dressed in diapers and pacifiers filled the screen, each one a visual embodiment of his deepest, darkest secret. For years, he'd harbored a fantasy of being cared for like a helpless baby, a desire he could never share with his imposing wife, Avril.
Avril was a force of nature – tall, strong, and with a voice that could silence a room. Roy, on the other hand, was the quiet counterpart - short, slender, and easily flustered by her bossy demeanor. They were an unlikely pair, yet a strangely functional one. Today, however, that functionality hung by a thread.
Lost in the virtual world of professional caregivers, Roy didn't hear the familiar click of the front door. A shadow fell across the laptop screen, making him jump. There stood Avril, a dark cloud gathered over her usually vibrant face.
"Roy, what in the world is this?" she said, her voice dangerously low.
The shame washed over Roy in a tidal wave. He stammered, trying to explain, to deny, but the evidence was damning. The open webpage, the frantic search history, it all painted a clear, humiliating picture.
Avril's face contorted in a mix of anger and hurt. "A nanny service? You want to be...babied?"
Roy, his face burning red, could only manage a weak nod.
The silence that followed was worse than any outburst. Finally, Avril spoke, her voice trembling slightly. "I need some air." With that, she swept out of the room, leaving Roy drowning in his own shame.
He spent the rest of the evening in a state of jittery despair. Later that night, Avril returned, her emotions simmering just beneath the surface.
"I went to see Mum," she confessed, her voice tight.
Stephanie, Avril's mother, was another force to be reckoned with – a large, formidable woman who wielded her opinions like a battle axe. Roy's stomach lurched; facing Avril was bad enough, but Stephanie's judgment would be a whole new level of terrifying.
"What did she say?" Roy asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"She says men are like that sometimes," Avril replied, a hint of defiance lacing her tone. "She thinks it's just a fantasy, a way to relax. She says you're not being unfaithful, just… indulging a silly wish."
Relief, tinged with confusion, flooded Roy. "So… what does this mean?" he asked cautiously.
Avril squared her broad shoulders, her gaze unwavering. "It means," she said, her voice firm, "that you can have your fantasy, but it will be on my terms." She outlined her conditions – he would be a baby in the house, but only in a controlled environment. There would be no public humiliation, but it would be a secret kept within the family.
Roy stared at her, his mind reeling. This was far from the professional care he'd envisioned, yet the prospect of being cared for by Avril, his powerful wife, sent a strange thrill through him.
Roy gulped, a mix of trepidation and excitement bubbling in his stomach. Little did he know, Stephanie wasn't done interfering. Her plan to "help" her daughter and genderson had only just begun.
One more thing I will taking over all of the financial dealings bank accounts credit cards everything
A steely glint entered Avril's eyes. "Everything, Roy. No more hiding behind credit cards to pay professional Nannys or those confusing spreadsheets you always stress over. Think of it as part of the 'care package.' I'll take care of everything, just like a good mommy takes care of her little one."
Roy swallowed hard. He understood her point. Money always caused tension between them, but handing over complete control felt…unmanly. Yet, the alternative – Avril walking out, exposing his secret fantasy to the world – chilled him to the bone.
"What about trust, Avril?" he ventured, his voice barely a whisper.
"Trust?" she echoed, a sharp edge to her voice. "Funny you should mention that. Trust is a two-way street, Roy. You were about to spend a hefty sum indulging a very specific fantasy, completely behind my back."
The guilt washed over him in waves. Avril was right. He'd been selfish, secretive. Yet, a part of him clung to the remnants of his independence.
Avril leaned down, her voice softer now, but no less firm. "Look, Roy, I'm willing to play along with this. We can explore your… desires, within the boundaries I set. But it has to be all in, completely honest. No hidden accounts, no secret stashes. Deal?"
Roy stared at her, his mind racing. The power play was undeniable. He, the grown man, was being offered a chance at his fantasy, but only under Avril's strict terms of submission.
He took a deep breath, "What if… what if I say no?"
Avril's smile vanished. "Then," she said, her voice cold, "I walk. And everyone gets to know exactly what kind of little games you like to play, Roy. You wouldn't want your colleagues, your friends… especially your mother-in-law to know, would you?"
The image of Stephanie's judgmental glare flashed in his mind. Defeated, Roy nodded. "Alright, Avril. You win. Everything."
A triumphant smile curved her lips. "Excellent. Roy winced internally. He wasn't sure what he'd gotten himself into, but one thing was clear – his life as an adult was over. He was now Roy, the little boy, completely at the financial and emotional mercy of his very capable, very controlling wife.
The next morning, Avril, ever practical, sat Roy down at the kitchen table. Sprawled out before them were bank statements and credit card bills. Roy's stomach churned, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
"Alright, Roy-boy," Avril began, her voice surprisingly gentle considering the circ-umstances. "We need to talk about finances."
Roy gulped, his hand instinctively reaching for his wallet, which felt strangely empty. He realized, with a jolt of panic, that it wasn't there. He looked at Avril, a silent question hanging in the air.
"Your wallet," she explained, holding it up. "We need to discuss some things. As Baby Roy, you won't need access to all this money."
Roy's face flushed. This wasn't part of the plan. He'd envisioned a playful regression, not a complete financial surrender. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. He was Baby Roy, at least in their eyes, and babies didn't have arguments.
Avril explained their new system. He would be given a weekly allowance of five pounds, enough for a lollipop or a small toy at the corner shop."It's not about taking away your freedom, Roy," Avril soothed, sensing his internal struggle. "It's about making sure your needs are met. You don't need to worry about bills or budgeting. I will take care of all that."
Roy wanted to argue, to insist on some semblance of financial independence. But a part of him, the part that embraced this regression, understood. He was a baby, a dependent. Perhaps, he reasoned, this complete surrender of control held its own perverse kind of… comfort.
After a tense silence, Roy nodded in agreement. He felt a strange sense of defeat, an emasculation that was both infuriating and strangely… liberating.
Roy looked at her, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He was a baby now, financially dependent, with a meager allowance.
The date for Roy's official regression loomed large on the calendar. The financial restrictions, while irksome, were manageable. But the idea of a set bedtime, complete with baths and nappies, sent a shiver of apprehension down his spine.
The day before the start, Avril sat him down with a gentle smile. "Alright, Roy-boy," she began, her voice surprisingly soothing. "Tomorrow's the big day. The start of your regression journey."
Roy nodded, a lump forming in his throat. He wasn't sure what he was more nervous about – the loss of control, or the strange anticipation bubbling within him.
"Don't worry," Avril continued, "we're going to take things slowly. we'll just start with a new bedtime routine. Bath time at seven, followed by a story and cuddles."
Roy listened, a flicker of relief washing over him. A bath and a story didn't seem so bad. It was almost… comforting.
"And for bedtime," she added, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "we'll be introducing a new nightwear ensemble."
Roy's stomach churned. Nightwear? He couldn't imagine anything more humiliating than adult pajamas.
"Don't worry," Avril assured him, reading his apprehension. "It's nothing drastic. Just a nighttime terry nappy and plastic pants. We're taking things slow, remember?"
Roy forced a smile. Terry nappy and plastic pants. It was very exciting
The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly, each tick echoing the hammering of Roy's heart. Monday evening had arrived, marking the official start of his regression. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch, his adult clothes feeling alien against his skin. Across from him, Avril hummed cheerfully, putting the finishing touches on a brightly colored plastic tub filled with bubbly water.
"Alright, Roy," she announced, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, "bath time!"
Roy swallowed hard. The idea of a bath wasn't unwelcome, but the prospect of being stripped down and put in a tiny tub, surrounded by baby toys, sent a wave of heat creeping up his neck.
"Can't I just take a regular shower?" he mumbled, his voice barely a squeak.
Avril's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something akin to disappointment crossing her face. "Not tonight, sweetie," she said gently but firmly. "Tonight, we're starting fresh. A clean slate, like a brand new baby."
Roy knew arguing was pointless. He sighed, a defeated puff of air escaping his lips. Avril approached him slowly, her eyes holding a curious mix of amusement and something deeper, something he couldn't quite decipher.
"Alright," she said softly, "let's get you undressed."
One by one, Avril removed his clothes, her touch surprisingly gentle despite her bossy demeanor. As each piece fell away, Roy felt a growing sense of vulnerability, a strange mix of shame and a bizarre sense of liberation.
Finally, he stood before her, clad only in his birthday suit, feeling absurdly exposed. Avril's gaze lingered on him for a fleeting moment, a hint of something warm flickering in her eyes before she quickly averted them.
"Hop in, Roy" she instructed, guiding him towards the plastic tub.
The water was pleasantly warm, enveloping him in a comforting embrace. Avril knelt beside the tub, arranging an assortment of brightly colored rubber duckies and squirting whales around him.
"See?" she said, her voice softening. "Bath toys, just like when you were a little one."
Roy looked down at the childish objects, a lump forming in his throat. This wasn't how he'd envisioned his fantasy, yet there was an undeniable comfort in the warm water and the gentle way Avril was handling him.
"Is this okay?" she asked hesitantly, her voice laced with concern.
Roy looked up at her, his heart overflowing with a mix of emotions. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a small, choked sob.
Avril didn't seem surprised. Instead, she reached out, her touch feather-light as she wiped away a stray tear. "It's okay to be scared, Roy," she whispered, her voice surprisingly gentle. "This is all new. But I'm here. I'll take care of you."
In that moment, surrounded by childish toys in a plastic tub, Roy felt a dam break within him. Years of unspoken desires, of yearning for a simpler time, came flooding to the surface. He buried his face in his hands, his body wracked with silent sobs.
Avril didn't try to stop him. She simply sat beside him, a silent pillar of support, until the storm subsided, leaving behind a strange sense of calm and a glimmer of… hope
The warmth of the bath was starting to lull Roy into a state of unexpected peace. The childish toys, once a source of embarrassment, now seemed strangely comforting as he splashed them around in the water. Avril sat beside him, a gentle smile gracing her lips.
Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open, shattering the fragile sense of calm. Roy froze, his heart leaping into his throat. There, framed in the doorway, stood Stephanie, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Well, well, well," she boomed, her voice carrying a hint of amusement, "look at our little man all tubby and clean!"
Roy wanted to melt into the bathwater, to disappear from the prying eyes of his overbearing mother-in-law. Here, in this vulnerable state, her presence felt like a violation.
"Mum!" Avril exclaimed, a touch of surprise laced with a hint of… delight? "What are you doing here?"
"Just checking in on my favorite new grandchild, of course!" Stephanie declared, her gaze fixed on Roy.
Roy squirmed under her scrutiny, his cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and indignation.
"Isn't he adorable?" Avril cooed, her voice laced with a possessiveness that surprised even Roy.
"He certainly is," Stephanie agreed, her eyes narrowing as they swept over Roy's bare chest. "Though, I must say, a little baby shouldn't be so… hairy."
Roy's mortification reached new heights. He hadn't even considered that aspect.
"Don't worry, Mum," Avril said, a sly smile spreading across her face. "We've got that covered."
Before Roy could protest, Avril reached for a washcloth and a bottle of what looked suspiciously like shaving cream.
"Now, now, little man," she said, her voice taking on a playful edge, "time to get rid of all that grown-up fuzz."
Roy's jaw dropped. This wasn't part of the plan! He opened his mouth to object, but the words died in his throat. Stephanie chuckled, her amusement evident.
"Don't worry, Roy-boy," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle for a moment. "Sometimes, a little pampering is just what the doctor ordered."
Trapped between his wife and his overbearing mother-in-law, Roy felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. He was about to embark on a whole new level of regression, one he hadn't anticipated, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. As the shaving cream was lathered onto his chest, a single tear rolled down his cheek, a silent plea lost in the cheerful chatter of the two women. His fantasy of being a cared-for baby was quickly morphing into something far more complex, far more… humiliating. But somewhere deep down, beneath the fear and shame, a tiny spark of curiosity flickered to life. What other surprises did this journey hold?
She plucked the razor from Avril's hand, the sharp metal glinting under the bathroom light. Roy gulped, a tremor running down his spine. This was getting far too real, far too intimate.
"Don't worry, Roy-boy," Stephanie said, her voice surprisingly gentle considering the situation. "We'll be very careful."
Her words did little to ease his apprehension. As Stephanie lathered the shaving cream across his chest, the coolness sent shivers down his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the first swipe of the razor.
The sensation wasn't as painful as he'd feared, but it was undeniably strange. The familiar scratch of stubble disappearing, replaced by an unfamiliar smoothness. It felt… exposed. Vulnerable. Yet, there was a undeniable sense of… relaxation washing over him.
With practiced ease, Stephanie moved on to his arms, her touch surprisingly gentle despite her imposing size. As each stroke of the razor removed another patch of hair, a strange sense of calm settled over Roy. The tension that had coiled in his muscles began to ease, replaced by a sense of passive surrender.
He stole a glance at Avril, who watched the scene with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something he couldn't quite decipher. Perhaps it was a hint of… satisfaction?
The shaving continued, a methodical process that left Roy feeling strangely… exposed, yet strangely cared for. It was a bizarre sensation, a coc-ktail of conflicting emotions that left him confused yet oddly content. With his legs, arms, arm pits and chest shaved Stephanie turned her attention to more private areas. She had Avril spread Roys legs wide while she shaved off his pubic hair. Lifting his limp willy to shave his little ball bag. She then had Roy get on all fours and hold on to the taps, Avril parted Roy bottom whie Stephanie shave his hairy bum hole.
As Stephanie finished the last stroke, she patted his arm dry with a towel. "There you go," she declared, her voice booming with satisfaction. "All smooth and baby-fresh."
Roy looked down at his hairless chest and arms, an unfamiliar sight that sent a wave of self-consciousness washing over him. Yet, beneath the unease, there was a glimmer of… something else. A sense of anticipation for what came next in this unexpected journey of regression. He was no longer just Roy, the husband. He was Baby Roy, a blank slate being moulded by the hands of his wife and his ever-present mother-in-law. The question was, what kind of baby would they create?
Topic: Hubbys Fantasy Indulged (Read 5507 times)
