Saturday, August 20, 2016

Probation IV

It’s mid day. Peter works on the computer in his near empty house. The market is soft, not much trading needed. He daydreams. Then comes distraction. The sound of a heavy diesel engine... squeaky brakes. He moves to the curtainless window of his den. A tow truck is backing into his driveway. When the driver exits, Peter hastily moves to the front door, exiting cautiously, aware of his collar. He curses himself for not having it covered. There is not time to do so.

“Hey, that’s my car!”

The driver holds up paperwork.

“It’s to be confiscated. Probation Bureau demand, authorized by a judge. This copy’s for you.”

The burly driver, unkept, unshaven thrusts forth grease stained papers then begins hooking up the car. Peter reads. It appears all legit. And he need not get into an altercation while on probation. Still it is painful, the auto paid for in cash the year before... $65,000.

“Nice collar... woof, woof,” the driver mocks in pulling a lever.

The sardonic words bring awareness. Neighbors are not to see Peter Delano with electrified collar. As a winch turns to tighten a connecting cable, he retreats, nothing to be gained by further observing his car departing for the impound lot. His thoughts turn to a demand on the list of Probation Officer Abby Bates... title to the auto.


“There was no mention of my car being confiscated, Miss Abby,” Peter trying to sound as humble as possible.

“I decided it’s for the best. You’re not going anywhere. And funds will be required for... certain home improvements. The title?”

A shaking hand passes the demanded document.

“Empty the refrigerator. You’ll only have the food I provide. There will be wine, but it is only for me. Any amount missing from the bottle will be met with punishment.”

With that, a smirking Abby Bates makes a show of pointing the remote control and pressing. Peter feels somewhat grateful that only a reminder jolt bursts at his cerebral cortex.

“And was I not specific that all clothing was to be placed in storage... in your garage,” the tone rebuking.

“Well... it’s all there.”

“No it is not,” Abby scolds, her hand reaching to gather a fold of Peter’s shirt. “You need to learn discipline and obedience, Peter. Had the judge decided on jail time, that’s what you’d be subjected to... and that’s what’s going to happen during your probation. Your first infraction of the rules.”

“But I can’t... I need to work... and before you... without any...” Peter sputters.

“You’ll appear before me as I demand... as I desire. You certainly had no qualms exposing yourself to a young girl. And I’m an adult... with experience... with perverts. Now strip. You’ll wear what I want you to wear.”

“But there are no curtains... the neighbors!”

“Yes, they are close by... and you have many windows... large. Curious that you now find reservations in showing yourself. Well, I’ll offer a reprieve. Come to the basement. I want you naked... then I’ll dress you. And you’ll not be doing your lasso trick... disgusting boy.”

Peter finds himself oddly grateful to be led to his windowless basement. He notes Miss Abby brings with her a bag. And he also feels another reminder shock, the collar distressingly effective.

“Come, come... get those clothes off... now!” the command coming with a third jolt.

A panicking Peter complies, sloppily tossing aside pants, socks, shirt... pausing in his jockey shorts.

“Everything,” the menacing word hissed with another shock.

The briefs are added to the pile.

“Now, before dressing you, I’m going to talk. I have boys get very attentive when naked and vulnerable before a woman... a stern woman with directives.”

Peter finds himself nodding, compliance readily offered.

“First, you may wish to move your office... perhaps here in the basement. Your choice.”

“Second you’re to be diapered... and that’s all you are to wear for me. I will bathe and change you. When you receive a reminder shock at day’s end you are to come to the basement. You will put these about your wrists, Posey cuffs, comfortable yet ineluctable. Then don this hood over your head. I’ll want you blindfolded. Come do it for me... hurry up.”

A shocked Peter hastily obeys, discovering indeed that his wrists find surprising comfort with the foam lined cuffs. A black cloth hood follows, gratefully there is a large opening for the mouth and nose.

“Good boy. Now, there will be some men coming to install... well... certain apparatuses to augment my care. I’m going to have some plumbing done... paid for by the sale of your car. When the work is completed you will come to the basement and kneel. Steel bars will be installed for you to grasp. It is in that position you will await my arrival. You will not know precisely when I am expected... but I will find you here in the basement, kneeling, hooded and cuffed for me. Is that clear?”

“Yes Miss Abby.”

“So kneel... on all fours, thighs well apart.”

It is then that Abby finds herself pausing... admiring the amazingly long penis of the drunk flasher Peter Delano. It swings about heavily, Abby amused to see the tip just about grazing the basement floor. She is also amused to see it begin to firm, the intense humiliation of being under the command of a fully clothed woman having the expected effect on these miscreants... those with soft eyes and puppy dog looks.

“We have complementing penchants... you and I. I like caring for boys... like having them perform for me in gratitude. Like it when they beg a little... finding my attention to be... exciting,”

With her words Abby reaches to her bag. Therein is an absorbent cloth diaper. With her years, the many demented years of diapering her teenaged brother... the photo of him in make up and panties utilized for a long interval in extorting his abject obedience... Abby stoops, readily placing her charge in the soft fluffiness.

“It’s termed adult baby syndrome. And I think a pervert like you will readily adapt. But in case you don’t there are precautions.”

With that, Abby removes from the bag the coup de grace. A rugged outer diaper, canvas, lockable, shards of steel sown within to preclude cutting. With equal dexterity, Peter finds his waist encircled. Then comes discomfort. Abby gleefully palms the tip of his expanding penis and gruffly presses back, smiling in noting that the extraordinary length brings the tip past his anus.

He’ll suffer well in pooping on himself, she thinks with a laugh.

Working quickly, the locking strap, permanently attached to the front, is drawn between the thighs, up the gluteal cleft, pulled to breathtaking tightness, buckled and locked.

“It’s too tight,” the words coming as music to the ears of Peter’s defacto governess.

“It will be as tight as I want it... not as tight as you want. You’re no longer in control... of anything.”

“But I can’t pee... can’t use the toilet.”

“Yes, wonderfully daunting is it not. You’re going to soil yourself... and be in need. I will visit to care for you... every night. You’ll be bathed... offered some time out of your diaper so you can perform for me, then powdered and diapered again. Yes, it is wicked... and odd. But most oddly, you’ll come to enjoy. I know boys like you. Know of your needs. And you’ll be thanking me every day for addressing them.” 

“But I look ridiculous... in a diaper.”

“I agree. It’s temporary. We’ll be making some changes over the next few days... more of the exposure you so much enjoy. But for now I want to begin acclimating you. It takes time to mold the male psyche... have you cede to maternal care. But it can be done. I had my brother in diapers for years... until he went to college.” 

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