Loving Care: The Stories of Lola Trechlyn

Chapter 7
VII - Losing Control

Chapter Description: F on M, Bondage, Genital Reduction, Physical AR. / Originally published on July 1st, 2007.

based on 2002’s "Overzealous" by dioscuri

James shifted uncomfortably, hazy with confusion. He lay upon a soft surface, but the world had not yet come into focus. The 18-year-old brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed away the crust. As a few rays of sunlight pierced his corneas, a slight feeling of panic arose within him; he had no recollection of the previous night.

This doesn’t feel like a hangover...

James’s eyes adjusted to the daylight. He realized that he was in a heretofore-unvisited, yet comfortable, room. The only sound he heard was that of a rattling heating vent. The sunlight cascading through a nearby window cast striped shadows upon his face.

Am I in jail?

The teenager was, in fact, in an oversized wooden crib. Bars were raised on both sides, and an additional set was laid the top. The high school senior felt that, though he was in a house and not the county jail, the sensation of imprisonment may as well have been the same.

What the hell is going on here...

James scratched the stubble on his chin as he realized that his head rested comfortably on a soft, downy pillow. His tall, slender body was covered in a fleece blanket, pulled up to his neck and tucked expertly around his torso. The aura of discomfort to which the boy had awakened gave way to serenity, though he continued to find his amnesia unnerving.

He disentangled himself from the blanket and pulled it down to his waist. The unmistakable crinkling sound of a plastic sheet assaulted his ears. James took some solace in the fact that he was still wearing his favorite t-shirt: the one he was wearing the previous night. Perhaps his memory was returning.

But, if life is a game of trades, his memory had returned at the expense of his pants. To his horror, James found that he was securely taped into a plain, white, disposable diaper. The thick fabric and crinkly plastic separated his muscular legs into a humiliating splay.

Um...

James slid his hands down to the virgin white diaper and touched the soft plastic covering. Confusion quickly turned into anger. Was this a hazing? Some sort of sick practical joke? Most importantly...who had the balls to treat a varsity football player like a common infant?

He shifted his position, causing his butt to slide across the shamefully comfortable hug of the diaper. Given his amnesia and the mystery surrounding his circumstances, James decided he’d rather be wearing a diaper than leaving himself naked and exposed to whoever had put him in such a state.

He laid back, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and tried to piece together all that had come before.

() () ()

James rang the doorbell.

SHIT! I forgot to bring her something!

The teenager dove for a nearby flower and pulled it out of the ground, wiping the dirt from its stem just in time for the front door to open.

“Hey, babe,” James offered with a slight chuckle. “I brought you a flower.”

“Hi, James!” Liz replied. “Aww... that’s so sweet of you!” She took the flower from James’s hand and brought it to her nose, inhaling the flowery petals’ scent.

James sat on the couch and watched his girlfriend as she prepared their drinks. He licked his lips as he gazed at her tight, denim-wrapped butt; it extruded suggestively every time she bent over. The boy was horny... as always.

“Hard to believe,” said Liz, derailing James’s train of thought. “We’ve been going out for exactly one month now. Seems like only yesterday that you’d mustered up the courage to ask me out to that dance.”

James blushed and accepted his drink. He had earned a reputation of being smooth and experienced with women, but, for some reason, Liz was different - James had actually had reservations about asking her out. She had seemed out of his league, as if she were a challenge to be met. The day he finally decided to ask her to the dance, he felt as if he had become a shy, insecure 13-year-old, confronting a secret crush for the very first time. His success was a coup. Liz tended to have that effect on the boys of Willowbrook High.

The teenager sipped from his drink. “I love you, Liz,” he said, offering a sheepish, insecure smile.

“I love you too, hon,” she replied. “Now drink your drink like a good little boy.”

James was nervous. He hoped that Liz would agree with him that their one-month anniversary would be ample reason to consummate their puppy love with a sexual episode. No...he wanted her to give in to his sexual desires; the lust he had for her was indescribable. He would take her, come hell or high water.

Every night, James would stretch out under the covers and try to fall asleep... and, invariably, he would masturbate to orgasm, all the while thinking of Liz’s perfect figure, her slender legs, her perky, perfectly-shaped breasts. His original intention had been to nurture the relationship, taking it slow and letting it blossom of its own accord, simply because he valued it. But his lust was reaching a breaking point. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out without sharing a long, hot night of sweaty passion with Liz.

Absorbed within his anxious thought pattern, James failed to notice that he had downed his entire drink in less than a minute.

Liz inched closer to her boyfriend and rested her head on his shoulder. Instinctively, James put his arm around her. He was overcome by a sudden feeling of exhaustion; the alcohol was affecting him more quickly than he had expected. He wondered to himself just how much booze Liz had mixed into his drink.

The buxom young blonde leaned her head upwards and pressed her lips softly to James’s. They began to make out, James slipping his tongue into Liz’s mouth and wrapping his limply tired arms around her. As the explored each other’s mouths, James felt himself begin to lose consciousness. Confused, hazy, he mentally kicked himself for not getting enough sleep the previous night.

James lay on top of Liz, both of them sprawled out sensuously upon the couch, still fully clothed, still kissing with unbridled passion. The last thing James heard before he passed out was the soft, loving voice of his girlfriend, whispering in his ear.

“Happy anniversary, my sweet little baby.”

() () ()

That bitch!

The diapered and very confused James reflexively snuggled deeper into his blanket as he recalled each and every detail of the events which had led him to his current condition.

What the hell did I do to deserve this?

Soon, his confusion was replaced by anger. Resentment. And then, to his horror, James’s anger transformed into another, far more urgent impulse.

He needed to piss. Really, really badly.

An overwhelming feeling of dread swept over James as he realized that he barely had enough strength to sit up. Every motion he made caused his diaper to crinkle audibly, reminding him of his humiliating condition. The teenager’s remaining strength allowed him only to raise the crib’s top set of bars a couple of inches before it came clattering down into its original position. Escape was denied him.

“Liz,” he called quietly, half-heartedly, shamefully. As hard as it was for James to accept, his girlfriend was his only ticket out of the crib. Amassing every last modicum of his courage, James called Liz’s name a few more times, louder with each attempt. Soon enough, she appeared at the threshold.

“Aww,” said Liz, with more than a little condescension. She sauntered into the room and looked down at James’s form. “How’s my little baby Jamie doing this morning?”

“Liz, I don’t know what you’ve done to me, or why, but the joke is over. You have to let me out of this crib. Right now.”

“And why is that, Jamie?”

“Because...” James stopped. He just didn’t know how to phrase it. He had never before conceived of himself being in such a helpless position. “Because I have to take a leak. Let me out.”

Liz paced toward the crib nonchalantly. “I don’t know if you realize this, Jamie, but, um... you are wearing a diaper.”

James seethed. “I realize that, Liz. But this isn’t funny anymore. Let me out!”

“Not funny anymore?” Liz chuckled. “I think it’s hilarious. And very, very cute. Now make peepees in your diaper like a good little baby.”

James’s stomach twisted into knots. The very idea of using his - er, the - diaper for its intended purpose disturbed and humiliated the teenager. He couldn’t pee in a diaper. He wouldn’t.

“Let me out of this crib, you fucking bitch.”

Liz’s smile disappeared. “Such language!” she chastised. “Such naughty words to come from such a naughty baby!”

James barely could control his rage. “Listen, Liz. I am 18 years old, and I...”

“No, you listen, Jamie,” Liz interrupted. “Listen very, very carefully. The drug I slipped into your drink last night - the one that caused you to pass out - also weakened your muscles considerably. Before long, you’ll be pissing and shitting yourself just like a tiny widdle baby. And, quite frankly, I’m amazed you’ve been able to hold your bladder for as long as you have.”

Liz opened the top of the crib, and, despite his most zealous attempts, James lacked the energy to make his escape. He simply lay there impotently, swaddled in his blanket, fearing the worst. Liz snatched the blanket away from her boyfriend and tossed it across the room, leaving the deeply-ashamed teenager wearing only his t-shirt and diaper. James felt more naked, more exposed, than he ever had in his life.

Without missing a beat, Liz grabbed James’s ankles and held one in each hand, quickly guiding them to either side of the crib and opening his diapered crotch almost to a right angle. The sudden movement caused James’s bladder to shudder, and he reflexively clutched his hands to the front of his thick, crinkly diaper, squeezing the soft padding against his flaccid penis and silently hoping that he was applying enough pressure to avert disaster, and the ultimate humiliation.

Liz sighed and rolled her eyes. “Jamie, don’t make me tie your wrists to the sides of the crib.”

The very thought of it horrified the teen. James let go of his diaper and held his hands to his sides, closing his eyes tightly in a feeble attempt to alleviate his mounting pain.

“Now, Jamie, let go. There’s no use holding it. You’re not getting out. You’re not going to get a chance to use the potty like a big boy. So just let go. Wet your diaper for me like a good little baby.”

James whined, a look of abject sadness crossing his face. “Please don’t make me pee my diaper, Liz. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, just, please, don’t make me pee my diaper.”

The grinning girl held James’s ankles fast to the sides of the crib. “Looks like it’s a little late for that,” she replied.

Liz was right. James sobbed in defeat as he felt the first few spurts of urine dribble from his penis and quickly absorb into the thirsty fabric of the babyish, white diaper. His girlfriend nodded with approval as the front of James’s diaper began to tint yellow in a small, slowly-growing circle.

James made one final effort to hold back, but the dam had already been broken. He was pissing full-force into his diaper now, as if his bladder was struggling to empty itself as quickly as possible. The unmistakable hiss of hot urine hammering uncontrollably into the confines of James’s diaper punctuated the air as the teenager whined in utter dejection.

He writhed in pitiful shame, his legs still being held wide apart, as the teenager felt his warm urine cascade over his wrapped testicles and settle in the seat of his sopping-wet diaper. James could feel the infantile garb absorb some of his pee, but because he was emptying his bladder with such urgency, most of his urine pooled in the seat of his diaper and caused his butt to become soaking wet. Three contractions sent a final few spurts of urine onto James’s diaper, and then, it was over.

“Aww, that’s better,” cooed Liz, staring at the beet-red form of her once-confident boyfriend. Where once there would have been a pair of loose-fitting boxer shorts, where once a proud, seven-inch cock would be reaching into the air, desperate for feminine satisfaction, there was now an emasculating, puffy diaper, yellowed and soaking wet, clinging to the 18-year-old’s loins and sex organs like a waterlogged rag. He looked just as a toddler would have in the same situation.

James began to cry.

“Oh, please,” said Liz, once again rolling her eyes. “You really are a baby!”

James sniffled. Maybe it was true. Maybe he really was a “widdle-bitty” baby, trapped in a clunky, big boy’s body.

Liz reached into her jeans pocket and removed a small white pacifier, decorated with a teddy bear driving a speedboat, with a baby-blue ribbon securely attached to it. She gently tied the ribbon around her boyfriend’s head and fitted the nipple of the pacifier into his waiting mouth. Dignity precluded James from nursing on the nipple, but he was too tired to struggle. He merely let the pacifier rest in his closed mouth as Liz leaned over him.

“So,” Liz said, sighing, “I’m sure that, by now, you’re wondering why I’ve done this to you.” She retrieved a small book from a desk in the corner of the room and held it up to James’s line of sight. The boy stared in horror at what he saw.

“That’s right, Jamie. It’s your ?private’ journal. Your mother found it while she was going through your room, and she felt that I deserved to see what you had to say. Believe me, it made for some incredibly interesting reading. Let me share one particular passage with you.”

The girl shuffled through a few pages and began to read aloud. “?Our one-month anniversary is next week. I hope Liz finally puts out this time. I’ve been trying so hard, and I’m starting to go fucking insane. I know about a hundred girls who would give anything to jump my bones. I don’t know why Liz is being so difficult about it.’”

Liz threw the journal to the floor in disgust. “Well, Jamie,” she said, “I was being difficult about it because I respect us. I respected you. And, most importantly, I respected myself.

“But you’ve proven to me that you’re nothing more than an oversexed adolescent. You were overzealous, little Jamie. You think with your dick instead of your brain. Which is why I felt justified in wrapping it in a diaper. Maybe then you’d have a chance to ignore it for a while and think about me for once.”

James was terrified. His girlfriend had him exactly where she wanted him. Fear washed into the boy’s mind. He began, quite unconsciously, to suck on the pacifier.

Liz removed a small syringe from her pocket. “And, speaking of ignoring your dick...”

The girl grabbed James’s left ankle and, in one fluid motion, injected the contents of the syringe into the webbing between his big and index toes. The teenager didn’t even have time to react.

“This is my favorite part,” Liz said with a smirk. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, too.”

She moved her soft, feminine hands to the front of James’s wet diaper and began to knead the saturated fabric. The boy shut his eyes, bit down on the nipple of the pacifier, and moaned in surprise and pleasure. What was Liz doing to him? Had this been her idea of some bizarre sex game all along?

In but a handful of seconds, James had developed a powerful, throbbing erection. Liz untaped his diaper and unfolded it, allowing the teenager’s stiff cock to spring free. She wrapped one hand around its shaft and began to masturbate her boyfriend, nodding in approval as he reacted by producing a droplet of pre-cum on his slit. She used it as lubrication as she stroked, and stroked, and stroked.

Suddenly, James felt a sudden sucking in his groin, like a powerful cramp. At first, he thought he was having an orgasm, but this was different. The boy opened his eyes and looked down to see the dreadful truth.

His pubic hair was the first to go. What started as rough, coily black strands curled up into soft, pubescent wisps, then disappeared into the follicles of James’s crotch. Then his penis began to shrink. The boy watched in terror as Liz’s hand seemed to grow bigger; his proud, seven-inch cock disappeared within her fist, going from six inches, to five, to four. As the cells of his penis regressed in age, independent of the rest of his body, James realized he could derive no more sexual pleasure from Liz’s touch.

“Liz, oh God... stop this!!”

The girl laughed cruelly and pulled her hand away. James groaned dejectedly as his penis became that of a five-year-old’s, hairless and totally bereft of mature, sexual intensity. It shrank into a toddler’s finger, than an infant’s nub. And, when his half-inch penis became that of a six-month-old’s, James’s tiny testicles left his scrotum and ascended into his body, coming to rest in his abdomen and forever depriving the boy of any semblance of manhood.

“No... no!!” he wailed. “Put them back! Give me my cock back!”

When the regression ceased, Liz replied, “I’m afraid I can’t. The effect is permanent. I just don’t think you have a right to one anymore, James. As far as I’m concerned, yours is only fit for peeing your diapers.”

James burst into tears, howling in despair and beating his fists and heels on the mattress. This couldn’t be happening. This just couldn’t.

Liz replaced the front of her boyfriend’s diaper, sealing the tapes anew, then closed the bars over the top of the crib and latched them into position. “What I’ve injected you with does more than just that, dear boyfriend. It’s a new drug my father has been honing to perfection for the past decade. Basically, it reinvigorates your body, replacing old and worn cells with flawless new ones. It will revolutionize the world of medicine. Unfortunately, it has a few unsavory side-effects; that one, for example. And, since it systematically replaces the cells in the recipient’s body, the subject, at last, begins to regress in age. His mind, however, remains completely intact.

“The regression works instantaneously,” the girl declared, bringing a small vial out of her pocket. “This is the antidote. When the required amount of cells in the subject’s body exhibit rejuvenation, this is administered to cease the regression. The subject’s only option, then, is to regain his or her age the old-fashioned way... with time and patience. Some people are willing to give up so much for a cure. My father has theorized that some fully-mature adults may be willing to regress to an age as early as eleven or twelve years, if it meant the end of their terminal illnesses. The target age -- and, ergo, the amount of healing the subject receives -- is the patient’s prerogative.

“Except in your case, little Jamie,” said Liz, gripping the vial in her fist so that it couldn’t be seen. “I think I’ll be making that decision for you.”

Overcome with trepidation, the 18-year-old established a very rhythmic sucking motion with his pacifier... one to which he was growing an inexplicable attachment to with each passing second. James adjusted his position and winced with discomfort. His wet diaper was beginning to grow cold, and it felt slimy and unwelcome clinging to his miniscule penis. He tried to take his mind off of it, but his train of thought had stalled on the tracks.

“The process has already begun,” Liz remarked, smiling with approval. “Go ahead, touch your face.”

Shivering uncontrollably, James brought his hand to his face. The stubble that had covered his chin and cheeks no more than thirty seconds ago was gone.

“You look like you’re about 16 now, Jamie,” Liz said, eyeing the antidote in her hand and feigning deep thought. “I was originally going to give you the antidote at this point -- you know, make you repeat the past couple of years, give you some more experience with the opposite sex so you could learn to respect us a little bit more. But, then, I realized that things would go much more smoothly if you had to go through puberty all over again... whatever use it would be to you, with that ridiculous excuse for a penis you’ve got now.”

James stared through his tears at his quickly-shrinking body. It looked just as it had on his twelfth birthday. His shoulders slumped and virtually all traces of his muscularity had disappeared, leaving him a skinny, awkward-looking boy teetering on the edge of a tumultuous coming-of-age. His t-shirt, which seemed noticeably larger to him, dangled slackly at his sides, spilling haphazardly onto the crib mattress. James’s cold, soaking diaper hung loosely at his hips as his legs retracted into the leg bands.

Liz smiled down victoriously at her shrinking, fear-wracked lover. “As cute as you look as a 12-year-old, I still just wasn’t satisfied with that idea. I figured that, the more time you have to correct your attitude, the more you’ll be prepared to shoulder the responsibility of being a fine, upstanding young man.”

The terrified eight-year-old in the crib realized that Liz had no intention of giving him the antidote any time soon. He clutched onto his last few memories of being a virile, sexually-charged teenager as he regressed further, causing his t-shirt to cover both his torso and the top half of his legs, as if it were a blanket. James noted, to his great distress, that he would be doomed to relive these memories -- to acknowledge what he had been and what he had become -- until he grew old enough to act upon them once again.

“Hmm,” said Liz, observing the changes James was experiencing. “Eight years old, seven years old, six years old... this is working far better than I had expected.”

She chuckled as James tried to grab onto something -- anything -- but it was too late. His body had already lapsed into the latter stages of toddlerhood, and he furiously crawled out of his oversized t-shirt and diaper so that he could get some fresh air. The naked four-year-old sat in the corner of the crib, pulling his knees up to his chin and sobbing hysterically.

Liz approached the crib, lifted its top, and opened the vial of antidote. As soon as she saw that James had regressed to an age which appeared to be approximately one year, she gently forced his tiny mouth open and poured in the antidote. James eagerly swallowed, anxious to awaken from his ultimate nightmare.

The antidote worked with haste, and James’s regression slowed to a stop. In the place of a well-defined 18-year-old with an attractive and maintained head of brown, spiky hair sat a small, confused one-year-old with only a fine layer of baby-blonde strands topping his saddened face.

Silently, James dropped his gaze and stared at his new body. His muscular arms and legs had atrophied into tiny limbs ending in pudgy hands and feet and padded with baby fat. Not a sliver of body hair was to be found. And, worst of all, his hilariously tiny penis and empty scrotum now seemed to be perfect fits.

James screwed up his face and began to cry, sending his pacifier to the mattress between his legs, a long line of baby drool connecting the nipple to his toothless gums. But the sound that came out of him wasn’t the despaired sobbing of a teenager whose girlfriend had just betrayed him... it was the piercing, impotent wail of a baby who had lost his paci.

Liz picked up the infant and held him to her chest. “Aww, what’s wrong, little Jamie?”

James sniffed, struggling adamantly to regain his composure. “Pwease... pwease turn me back into a big boy, Wiz.” He winced at his babyish voice and infantile speech patterns.

“Tsk-tsk... you know I can’t do that, Jamie,” Liz said, stroking her ex-boyfriend’s soft, baby-fine hair. “Only time can return you to your original self. Nothing else. Don’t worry... everything will be back to normal in about seventeen years. Well-- almost everything, of course.”

James kicked his weak little legs in frustration.

“Unless, of course, I don’t see any noticeable improvement in your attitude within a few years. Then you’ll just have to go back to being a little baby again.”

The infant in Liz’s arms broke out into another ear-piercing wail. James knew that he was her prisoner. He knew that he would be her little baby, her subservient little child, for as long as she wanted.

She may very well never let me grow up.

“Goodness,” Liz said in mock surprise. “I almost forgot! We need to get you back into diapers before you make a terrible mess all over everything.”

If James could have cried any louder, he would have. But he was tiring himself out. Verbalizing the level of his frustration was physiologically impossible.

Liz brought James over to the changing table and set his crying form down upon a warm towel. She retrieved a duffel bag from the corner of the room and brought it to the table. After unzipping and shuffling through its supplies, the girl selected a small white Huggies diaper, a bottle of lotion, and some baby powder.

James showed no sign of calming down, but his ex-girlfriend was not without ideas. Gently, she grasped James’s tiny left hand, clenched it into a fist, and brought his thumb towards his mouth. The boy had acknowledged how much serenity sucking on the pacifier had brought to him, so he elected not to resist, choosing instead to accept his thumb and suck on it with steely determination. His will was going to win out. He would not entertain the notion of defeat.

As little James sucked his thumb, Liz squirted a dollop of lotion onto her hand and lifted her ex-boyfriend’s legs by the ankles. She rubbed the lotion into the soft skin of his butt, and in between his little legs. James took little note of this humiliating ordeal as he sucked his thumb, his eyes closed tightly, as if he could make himself disappear by bathing his subjective reality in total and merciful darkness.

Liz rubbed the lotion in between both of her hands and applied it to James’s crotch. The infant giggled despite himself as he felt his girlfriend’s warm hands caress his genitals.

That bitch won’t be so smug if she thinks I’m enjoying myself.

James grinned as Liz once again lifted the boy’s legs, sliding the soft diaper underneath his bottom and spreading powder over his groin. In a few seconds, the diaper was pulled up between James’s pudgy limbs and fastened together securely. Liz tucked in the legbands of the Huggies and pronounced her ex diapered.

The boy was still sucking his thumb when Liz lifted him up and carried him out of the room. She took him into her bedroom, then sat in her favorite chair and spread the infant out on her lap. James opened his eyes.

“Gootchie-gootchie-goo!” cooed Liz, tickling James under the chin. The baby popped his thumb out of his mouth and giggled, squirming around in his fresh, crinkly diaper.

Liz smiled in response. “Little Jamie is beginning to enjoy his new baby life, isn’t he?”

If that’s what it takes to keep you from getting off on this, you frigid bitch.

And so it was that Liz and her new baby spent many more years together, their relationship locked into a new and fascinating dynamic, with little Baby Jamie getting the ultimate revenge on his vindictive lover-- by loving every minute of his second infancy.

But, really, who’s fooling who?

Retrospective

Seeking to recover from the "thud" that was the dropping of "Little Champion II" upon a disinterested readership, I decided to take the more popular of the two stories I had written in 2002 as dioscuri and make it not crappy. In the five years since its original publication I had nailed an English degree and practiced my typing fingers bloody. So, the revision came out really quite different from its progenitor; the general backbone of it remained the same, but the writing became smoother and more detailed, scenes were added (who doesn’t love a good shrinking penis?), and the ending was changed.

Having come out on July 1st, one week after "Champion II," "Losing Control" met with a positive but relatively muted reaction. It was bounded on either side by commissions, the first of which had completely overshadowed it. (That story came out first, but is the next in this collection.) And, considering I had to dive into my archives to find an idea worthy of publication, it was becoming increasingly evident to me that I had just about told every story I’d set out to tell. The spectre of creative burnout haunted me and, ultimately, "Control" would be Lola Trechlyn’s final original story.

But now, on to THE COMMISSIONS!!

Thanks for reading. -lt