Baby Cage by Devon Shire Page A

peeing myself. Right then, right there, I wet my diaper for the first time since I had genuinely needed them as a baby girl.
    But then, that was how they saw me. I wasn’t an adult or a college student to Seth and Kayla. I was just a girl who needed to be trained how to behave. Right there, I couldn’t prove them wrong.
    A new sense of weight and heat soaked into my diaper. The hot urine got absorbed into the cotton lining, working its way over my most sensitive parts of my body. I tried to pull my legs together, but with the straps over my ankles, that was impossible. After another second, I tried to get myself to stop.
    I just had to stop wetting, and right as it seemed like I might succeed, Seth leaned down and tickled me some more. My flesh was too sensitive, too vulnerable, so when he touched me again, the newly restored sense of control I had struggled to rebuild broke down all at once, and I continued to wet myself.
    On and on, it went until I emptied my bladder and had to lay there in a wet diaper.
    I seethed and fought to keep myself from showing him just how humiliating I found this moment. I wanted it to end. I wanted to make him go away somehow. Blush burned up my chest and made it clear how ashamed I felt. A little tickling. That’s all it took to make me wet my diaper like a pathetic baby girl.
    Wetting was bad enough, but losing the bet made me feel so much more humiliated. I gritted my teeth and peeked back up at him.
    Seth chuckled at my humiliation, “Well, that really didn’t take much, did it? A little bit of tickling and you wet your diaper? Oh well, I guess that means you deserve to be on this changing table.”
    He leaned over and tore away my diaper. I lifted my butt, hoping he would take it away. Instead, Seth folded up my soaked diaper and dangled it in front of me. “Now, who wet her diaper?”
    I didn’t want to look at it anymore. I didn’t want to have to endure the scent of my own urine. Seth let the diaper hang a few scant inches in front of my face. If he swung it even a little, the diaper would touch the tip of my nose. I tried to pull away, but I only had so much room to maneuver with the straps locking me before him.
    “Who wet her diaper?” he nudged it a half inch closer to my nose. He was going to touch me with the dirty diaper unless I did what he wanted.
    As revulsion at my own weakness pummeled my weakened self-respect and I tried to explain this way, if only to myself, I swallowed, “I wet my diaper.”
    “You did. And now I’m going to have to change you. Isn’t that right?”
    “Yes. It’s right.”
    “And what does that make you again?”
    “It makes me a little girl.”
    “Oh no, Lena, it’s far worse than that,” he said, slowly pulling the diaper away. He still held it up, and somehow, I couldn’t take my eyes away from the symbol of my regression, my shame, and my humiliation. It held my attention even as Seth continued to drill me with the implications of a wet diaper.
    “It is?”
    “Oh yes,” he told me. “Little girls can wear little girl panties. They can be trusted in pretty little dresses and get to walk around. But you? No, you wet yourself. If you hadn’t worn this, what would have happened?”
    “I would have made a mess.”
    “Yes, you would have. You would have messed up your changing table. But you did have a diaper on because Kayla and I saw the truth. What truth was that?”
    “That I’m a baby girl,” I told him, biting through each word.
    “That’s right!” Seth gave my tummy a pat with one hand while he went through one of the drawers beneath the changing table. I leaned my head back and stared up at the ceiling. All of the fight left me for now. I couldn’t think of some way to deny what happened. He tickled me for a few seconds and suddenly I had to piss myself? My nostrils flared and I wanted to snarl or hit something. I gave my straps a little tug, but that didn’t satisfy the frustration boiling through my muscles.
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