My First Story Road to Regresion (Prostrate Problems)

[naughty baby hubby]

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

[naughty baby hubby]

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.

[naughty baby hubby]

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

[naughty baby hubby]

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

[naughty baby hubby]

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.

[naughty baby hubby]

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

[babybunting]

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.