Fibs and Fumbles

Chapter 6
Ch 6 Rise and shine!

Chapter Description: Jack awakes and he's in for some horrible surprises. His new "Daddy" is eager to explain. Tags: ABDL, Diapers, Kidnapping, Forced Feminization, Forced Regression, Bondage, Body Modification, and Humiliation.

Something foul-smelling jolted Jack awake. His eyes burned from the sudden brightness of the room, and as he instinctively inhaled, he panicked as he felt an item lodged in his mouth. Disoriented, he tried to raise his hands to his face, only to discover they were completely restrained as, apparently, was the rest of his body. He couldn’t even unclench his fingers.

Blinking furiously, he breathed hard and fast through his nose whilst he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He heard movement - someone else was nearby.

“Aww, look at the little baby, she’s finally awake!”

Jack turned toward the voice, squinting at the figure standing close to him.

“Well, nearly anyway. I’ll give you a minute,” the man spoke with a flamboyant, Germanic accent, but was obscured by shadow.

As the fuzziness began to fade from Jack’s vision, he noticed a ringlet of hair hanging in front of his face, partially obscuring his view. He tried to move, to speak, but whatever was lodged in his mouth acted as an effective gag.

He still felt disorientated. His mind felt foggy, like he was surfacing from a deep, drugged sleep. Still, he tried to piece together how he’d ended up here - wherever here was. Fragments of memory flittered back to him: the walk to the park, the car ride…but everything after that was a blur.

Jack began to look around at what little he could see from his current position. The room was dim, lit only by a harsh, bright light directly overhead. The walls and floor appeared to be made of dull, grey concrete, but the rest of the space was difficult to make out in the gloom. He could the man opening and closing cupboard doors, and the rattle of utensils.

He wriggled, testing his restraints, but couldn’t budge. It felt like he was strapped into a dentist’s chair. Something thick was wrapped tightly around his head, and a gag of some sort was wedged into his mouth, forcing his lips into a permanent pucker around the intruder. A stiff collar restricted the movement of his neck, making even the act of looking down an effort. Looking down, all he could see were thick straps crossing over his chest and some sort of glossy, pink bodysuit clinging to his torso.

Opposite him, a camera was mounted on a tripod, its lens angled down at his restrained form. Watching. Recording.  As he strained against the restraints, he felt the ache and stiffness of muscles that had been idle for too long.

“Oh, that’s long enough. I can tell you are confused - maybe this will help.”

The man moved behind him and flicked a switch. With a mechanical whir, the chair shifted, slowly raising Jack into an upright position. A moment later, the man disappeared back into the shadows, only to return wheeling over a large mirror.

Jack stared, horrified.

Confirming his suspicions, he could now see that he was strapped into what looked like a medical chair, restrained at multiple points along his arms, legs, and torso. But far more shocking was what lay beneath the straps - he had been transformed into something that, to his horror, resembled a twisted version of a baby doll.

Bizarre pink PVC baby booties with white plastic frills encased his feet. Pink leather straps wrapped around his ankles, keeping the booties secured, and tiny padlocks ensured they could not be removed. Pale rose stockings adorned with little love hearts climbed up his legs, ending at his upper thighs. Close to his privates, a pair of semi-translucent plastic pants peeked out from beneath a glossy pink PVC romper.

The romper covered his body from his chest down to his groin, but it bulged awkwardly at the crotch, forcing his legs apart. He didn’t need to see what lay underneath - he knew that in addition to the plastic pants, he’d been thickly diapered. The PVC clung to his form with a stiff sheen, the bright pink material adorned at the centre with a white love heart, boldly lettered in pastel: "BABY SLAVE." White plastic frills jutted from the cuffs, and the sleeves puffed outward like something from an outdated princess costume.

His hairless arms, ended in mittens made of the same pink PVC and white frills. Like his booties, these too were locked on with leather straps and small padlocks. He tried once again to flex his fingers but found his hands immobilized - clenched into soft, useless fists, padded and stuffed to render them completely ineffective.

Around his neck, a pink leather collar decorated with heart motifs was fastened snugly. It was embossed with pastel baby blocks that spelled out the word "ABI".

But by far the most shocking discovery was his face. A huge pacifier gag, glittery pink and festooned with sparkling decorations, was strapped tightly over his mouth. The leather straps securing it mirrored those of his ankle and wrist restraints. Behind the bulb, he could just glimpse the outline of his lips dyed a pastel pink and feeling unnaturally sore and bloated. His entire face was covered in an exaggerated layer of makeup: bright blush smeared across his cheeks and nose, fake freckles dotted haphazardly over his skin, and thick false eyelashes glued awkwardly to his lids. His eyebrows were gone - shaved clean - and replaced with drawn-on arches.

The ringlets he had noticed earlier were seemingly part of his own hair, styled into bouncy curls, though he couldn't tell how much was real under the oversized PVC baby bonnet that now crowned his head.

Jack didn’t just look like a baby…he looked like a joke. A doll. A toy.

He tried to scream, to shout through the pacifier, muffled, panicked, frantic. Mewling noises escaped, but they only drew delighted laughter from the shadows.

“Oh yes, this is good… Abi’s first tantrum...” the man cooed as he strolled over to the tripod and detached the camera, his voice lilting with theatrical amusement.

“Ja, we’re going to have to expect a few of these as Abi adjusts to her new lifestyle,” he added, circling Jack slowly, angling the camera to zoom in on his tear-streaked face.

Jack was trembling, his body wracked with sobs. Genuine terror bled through the muffled cries and squeals escaping his gag. He couldn’t stop shaking. As the man moved under the overhead light, Jack finally got a clearer look at him.

He was tall and slender, with short-cropped hair streaked with bleach-blonde highlights and long manicured nails for a man. He wore a tight, faded black T-shirt that clung to his frame and showed off the tattoos on his arms. His skinny jeans were worn and frayed, chains dangling casually from the pockets. Piercings decorated his nose and ears, and his eyebrows were carefully shaped and trimmed. Though his face was softened by light makeup, signs of age still peeked through: crow’s feet, tired eyes, deepening smile lines. There was nothing overtly remarkable about his alternative style in isolation, but something about him radiated a kind of sinister eccentricity.

There was something strangely soft about his features - features that, in a different context, Jack might have found gentle. But the way he grinned, the glint in his eye, the sickly-sweet mockery in his tone - it all twisted his appearance into something sinister. He looked unhinged. Predatory. Psychotic.

“Oh, crying? Poor Abi is crying,” the man taunted in a sing-song tone. “It’s okay, it’s okay, little girl. You’ve been asleep for a while - we expected this to be emotional.”

Jack couldn’t contain it anymore. He was bawling, his gag muffling the choked sobs that wracked his chest. His mind spiralled as he stared at his reflection, listened to this lunatic, and tried to comprehend the full weight of what was happening. It was all so deeply wrong.

Adding to it all he was keenly aware that body didn’t feel right.

He was sore all over - as if he’d been unconscious for days. His limbs ached, his muscles felt weak and foreign, and there was a strange numbness to his lips. Worse still were the unfamiliar sensations emerging from below. His penis and testicles felt strange, as if they were confined and there was an aching pressure inside him, a dull, stretched discomfort from his rear. He didn’t know what had been done to him, but everything felt so messed up.

As Jack squirmed helplessly, the man placed the camera back onto the tripod, apparently satisfied with his close-ups.

“Abi, you must be so confused…” he said with a long, theatrical sigh, his voice laced with exaggerated sympathy.

“…You probably noticed, I am not the Daddy you met, he’s just getting things ready for you. Daddy Tom will be back soon though. You can call me Daddy Eli. And aren’t you just the luckiest little girl to have two daddies?  I know, I know… we had to be a tiny bit deceitful. But really, Schnucki, were you not doing the same to others? Lying, manipulating, hurting people?” He turned toward the camera and muttered something in German, followed by an insincere laugh.

His gaze snapped back to Jack.

“Well, let me make this clear: from this moment on, your daddies are everything. Your world. Your keepers. Your masters.” The sarcastic teasing tone had stopped, replaced by a cold, controlling voice. Jack kept his eyes shut as ‘Daddy’ Eli talked, hoping this was all a nightmare.  

Eli, noticing Jack’s refusal to look at him, stepped forward and seized his jaw with manicured fingers, squeezing hard enough to make him wince, forcing him to face him.

“We decide when you eat. When you sleep. When you wake up. What goes in your mouth, and what comes out. How you spend every single second of your day. Who you are. Everything. You don’t function without us anymore.” He was only a few centimetres from Jacks face as he delivered those words, pausing at the end to let them sink in. Jack whimpered with a pitiful, guttural sound.

“Now what about you? You were such a bad, rotten little thing. A disgusting….” The man briefly released his face as he broke off into what Jack could only guess were slurs from the venomous tone delivered in his native tongue.

“Now though…now you get to start fresh. As Baby Abi.” He said the name like he was delivering a sentence.

He reached down, gripping Jack’s jaw once more, this time turning his face toward the mirror.

“We even dressed you for your debut. Isn’t that precious?” His voice mocked empathy, but his nails dug into Jacks cheeks as he spoke.

“From now on, I decide how you’re presented to the world. Get used to this look, sweetheart. Because this?” He tapped the mirror glass with one finger. “This is your truth now. And I think you know that. Look closer - does it seem… familiar?”

Jack stared at the reflection. Somewhere in the frazzled corners of his mind, the outfit sparked recognition. One of the many rompers he’d claimed to want. One of the many lies he’d told to get what he wanted. Now, he was wearing it.

“Ja, don’t worry we have a good idea of all the outfits you picked out. You are probably also feeling a bit sore under your padding huh? Don’t worry about that we can talk about it when you get a change, but you will have to prove you can behave to earn one.” After months in the community Jack could guess what the man wanted. He struggled to comprehend what he meant about the soreness though.

“You know, I was pleased to see you kept your hair long. It makes it so much easier to bring Abi - the new you - to life. I hope you like what I’ve done with it…”
The man slowly began undoing the straps beneath Jack’s chin, releasing the ridiculous bonnet that had kept his head bound. As soon as it came free, Jack’s hair seemed to spring loose from its confined state.

The humiliations kept coming. With slow, almost tender movements, the man ran his fingers through Jack’s curls, smoothing and arranging them like he was playing dress-up with a doll.

“…Ah, bonnet head. Honestly, your hair is such a pleasure to work with. I’m going to enjoy trying out all sorts of styles on you. For now, a little perm felt most appropriate. Cute, no?”

Jack stared at his reflection, horrified. He saw a hollow mockery of a man turned into something soft and obscene. His masculinity erased with nothing but a makeover, a hairstyle, and that absurd outfit.

“Don’t worry, I’m a real professional.” the man continued cheerfully. “I’ll make sure you always look beautiful. You’ve got a good foundation to work from…though there’s always room for improvement.”
He moved back to Jack’s head, fingers finding the buckles of the pacifier gag. Jack felt the tight straps begin to loosen.

“Ja, I think you might be a bit sore,” the man added, “but just in case - if I hear anything but widdle baby talk, this goes right back in.”
His patronising tone made it clear: he knew Jack wasn’t going to comply, but he’d enjoy the performance no less.

As the gag was finally eased from his mouth, Jack caught sight of the pacifier bulb. It was ridiculously oversized, even more so than the last one he’d been forced to use, and now glistened with saliva. The man held it up triumphantly, letting Jack see just how absurd it looked.

But the real shock hit a moment later. Jack caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, of his lips, and recoiled. They had swollen to nearly double their size, and were dyed a soft, unnatural pastel pink.
Up until now, the makeover, the hair, and the outfit all felt like part of some twisted performance, something he could escape eventually. But this… this seemed permanent. The pain, the soreness around his mouth, it wasn’t just from the gag.

His lips looked like pillows. Artificial. Embarrassingly huge.
Something had been done to him.

His reflection stared back, unblinking. A stranger’s face in his skin.

Such was the shock Jack was in, that any attempts to coherently plead with the man went out of the window. It was the last straw. Everything hurt. The stifling outfit clung to him tightly, suffocating and hot. His limbs throbbed with pain every time he tried to struggle against the restraints. His jaw was stiff, his lips radiated a dull, pulsing ache, and his head felt foreign - weighted down by long eyelashes and the unnatural bounce of styled curls. And then there were the awful, unfamiliar sensations coming from his groin and rectum - an ever-present reminder that something had been done to him, something invasive and humiliating.

For the next minute, Jack wasn’t really present as he fell into an impotent tantrum.

He screamed. He sobbed. He wailed and begged incoherently, the word “please” spilling from his mouth over and over between gasping, choked cries.

Just moments ago, he’d tried to think of what he could say - how to reason with the man, how to curse him, threaten him, bargain. But now? None of that was left.

Were his lips permanently altered? What else had they done to him? What else were they planning?

Even Eli was caught off guard. He had expected rage, some pleading, maybe a few tears- but this complete, uncontrollable collapse? He had perhaps underestimated just how deeply mortified “Abi” would be at seeing her new look.

"Eesh, we’ll have to cut this," Eli muttered as he walked over to the camera. Abi continued to sob, her face streaked with snot and smeared makeup, saliva dripping from her lips. The man noticed she was struggling to close her mouth properly; her speech was slurred, her jaw slack. Her voice, still unmistakably male, grated harshly - but that, he thought, could be worn down with time.

“Ja, okay Abi, I expected all of this. Well… maybe not something quite this pathetic.” He spoke casually, almost amused, his voice rising over her broken murmurs. She was crying more softly now, mumbling about her lips, her face. He figured he’d let her burn it all out before silencing her again with the pacifier.

“Wow. You’re really going to fall apart over a perm and a bit of filler, huh baby? My god.” He chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. “You need to understand something - you're going to be here for a long time. This? This is nothing. I know everything you’ve promised people. Every little manipulation, every lie. We’re going to make all of it real. And if you don’t play along… things will get worse.”

His tone was flat, matter-of-fact.

Abi tried to listen, tried to quiet herself, to swallow her sobs and find some thread of control. She wanted to speak - needed to - but Eli had already turned his back, fussing with something just out of sight.

After a few long seconds and a few shallow breaths, she managed to rasp a question:

“W-where… am I?”

Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, her throat raw and dry. Eli turned to her then, and just for a fleeting moment, something like pity flickered across his face. But it was gone just as quickly.

Mercy, whatever version she had been hoping for, was not on the table.

He returned holding a baby bottle filled with clear liquid. Abi eyed it with suspicion. Faint memories stirred - something about the moments before she blacked out.

“You’re dehydrated. Don’t fight it. It’s just water,” he said evenly.

He could see her hesitate, could sense the doubt in her wide, wet eyes. But when he raised the bottle to her lips, she didn’t resist. Despite everything, despite the fear tightening in her chest, she opened her mouth and accepted the nipple without a word.

“Good girl. Since you played nice, I’ll answer your question just this once…”
The man held the bottle steady as Abi suckled, desperate to quench her thirst.

“You are far, far away from your home. In the middle of nowhere, miles from anyone who might know you, or who might care if you vanished. Where exactly doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you forget any foolish hope of running or crawling away. You’re surrounded by fields, forests, and hills. No neighbours to hear you shout, scream, or cry. You're not going anywhere. And no one is coming to save you.”

He spoke with chilling calm. The only sounds were Abi’s soft gulps through the long teat of the bottle and the quiet rustling of her restraints. She just sat there, drinking, tears still streaming silently down her cheeks.

It wasn’t the reaction Eli had expected.

When they first learned who Jack was, they'd assumed they’d need to break him. Swearing, biting, kicking, screaming…they were ready for a fight. But now, looking down at the trembling figure before him - Abi, sucking obediently at the bottle, avoiding his gaze, crying uncontrollably - he found himself caught with conflicting emotions.

Part of him was disappointed. Her earlier outburst had been spectacular, a raw, explosive tantrum. But now? Was she already submitting? And this was just the beginning. How would she react once they really started to mess with her?

And yet… in this moment, something about her struck him. There was something almost delicate, and beautiful about her - at least, before the snot and screeching. Not his usual type, no, but he couldn’t deny a flicker of attraction.

They hadn’t expected Jack to agree to the car ride, let alone drink the drugged bottle. Both Thomas and he had quietly wondered whether the young man was feeling genuine guilt, especially as they discussed their “success” on the phone with him strapped in the backseat, half lucid and whining.

It didn’t matter. They had made a pact long before this: Jack’s conscience, his apologies, his state of mind didn’t matter. None of it changed what he’d done, or who they believed he really was. They would carry on with their revenge, no matter how accepting or guilt ridden he was.

After Jack passed out, the operation moved quickly. Thomas carried out the kidnapping with cold efficiency: swapping number plates, switching vehicles with a prepped getaway car, and carefully fitting Jack into a custom compartment beneath the rear seats, padded to avoid detection.

Then came the long journey home.

Surprisingly, the ferry crossing and subsequent border checks passed without incident. But for Eli, the wait was agonising - the silence stretching endlessly as he paced, dreading the worst, until finally the call came: the all-clear.

By the time Thomas arrived at the house, everything was in place. Every lock, every camera, every prop they’d need to begin the transformation.

In just over a day, his partner had turned weeks of planning into reality and delivered the object of their hateful obsession, drugged, helpless, and ready to be remade.

Now, as Eli watched the girl in front of him - not Jack, Abi - drain the bottle without protest, he felt a strange stillness settle over him. She wasn’t fighting. Just soft, shuddering breaths between gulps of water. After all that planning, all those elaborate contingencies, she was… compliant.

She looks almost peaceful like this, he thought, tilting his head. The flushed cheeks. The pink lips. The lowered gaze. She looked like the beginning of the doll they wanted. Not yet perfect. Not yet finished. But close.

Still, he reminded himself, appearances could deceive. He exchanged the empty bottle for another and watched her take it without hesitation.

Compliant or not, she hadn’t yet seen what they truly had in store.

Better to stay vigilant.

“My, my, you’re going to be filling that big diaper in no time, huh?”

Jack stared up at him. The tears had slowed, the sobbing faded, replaced by shallow breaths as he suckled the last of the water. He hadn’t cared what the drink was in, whether it be a baby bottle, a sippy cup, whatever - nor whether it was drugged. He had been too desperate, too parched to resist. But now, with his thirst momentarily quenched, he felt the fog in his head beginning to lift.

He’d been kidnapped. Drugged. Presumably smuggled into another country or equally far away. Transformed into some infantilized parody of himself by a man who treated his pleading like the babble of a toddler. It was deranged. All of it.

And it wasn’t over. Not even close.

Jack couldn’t begin to understand how this had all spun out of control, or how some lost money had led to this. It was psychotic. Still despite his current weakened and ensnared state he had the presence of mind to now try and stay calm. He had to think clearly. Assess the full extent of the hell he was trapped in. Because if he didn’t, if he lost himself again, they’d win. And whatever this man had planned for him next… he had to find a way out before this went further.