I'm a fag who wants to be used abused humiliated.

We played around online at first, giving me orders and tasks to perform and send picture proof, he got me to buy some gear of his choosing, i spent the occasional weekends or even extended weekends in gear like this, but at some point i also visited him, shorter long weekends but also some smaller holiday periods, there he forced his dress codes on me even more strictly, adding more gear, locking me inside without breaks much longer than i did on my own.

But what i still cannot believe, sitting here like this… i retired two weeks ago and we had agreed to celebrate that day together. At my arrival he insisted of course we’d keep me packed proper for that celebration, i never spent days at his place without gear like that, so this would not be an exception.

As always, i got plugged, locked in a tiny chastity device, heavy padded and stuffed into 4 layers of heavy plastic and rainwear, heavy wader boots, most of the gear locked on so i would not be tempted to even try to get out of it.

And today.. i am still wearing all of the gear as i have done every day with just one hour every other day out for cleaning. In those two weeks since that day he donated all my other clothing, sold everything i had inside my house, the house itself is on the market for sale also. While he did not say anything about it the first two days, when i got re=packed after the cleaning hour, he revealed it, since i no longer had to work, i no longer needed to wear anything else but this, permanent, forever…

When i saw this stocks construction i was fascinated, when one of the guys there asked if i was interested, i told him that it surely was out o my price range, nevertheless i loved what i saw.

He surprisingly then asked if i wanted to give it a try, how could i say no, still early with almost nobody around it would not be a big deal either i thought. He insited thogh for legal bla bla to sign a waver before i could get locked in. Not uncommon practice, so i did not even wonder and signed it, i wanted to get that feel....

Together with another clerk he then unlocked the top part and invitingly pointed at it so i could get in position and place my neck and wrists into it. The moment i did, the two carefully but quickly had the top mounted in place again and not only bolted it in place but padlocked those bolts as well.

Before i could get the 'feel' and enjoy the trying out, he stood in front of me with a gag, waving it, telling me that this would complete the image, i agreed and opened my mouth, just to get the massive ball squeezed and pushed behind my teeth before he buckled that gag strap behind my head and padlocked it also.

i tried them, not just unable to talk, a few moans and grunts still were possible while i felt my dick slightly grown after i tried pulling my head or wrists out of those stocks, both failing, the fit seemed almost perfect to avoid any chance of getting out.

They left me to my own for a while, watch me try yet fail and laughing about that from behind the counter behind me, but then i heard one of them: 'Having it occupied makes it look so much better, advertises us better to passing people also, should we just keep him there, do you think he'd agree?'

The other then did not eve hesitate and replied: 'Well, we have to prepare it then, some precautions that also will make the looks more interesting, and to be honest.. he volunteered to get into it , i do not think he should have a say in what happens while he's there.'

i gargled and grunted into the gag after hearing that, but they did not seem to respond to that, instead i suddenly felt my jeans and undies pulled forcefully down to my ankles, which then prevented me from using my legs for defense. The next happening was then the cutting off of my tee, not that it was a special one, i still would not have agreed to that anyway.

standing naked in the stocks then, one was on my back , the other on my front. Simultaneously they worked on both sides, a tiny =nub cage was locked on my dick while a luckily not too large plug went up my butt.

But then the humiliation went further, a thick baby printed plastic diaper with thick inlays was placed between my legs and peorp fastened taped shut around my waste then, hiding chastity and plug again. Finally they pulled my jeans and undies off my legs, i stood then gagged, naked in diapers and my sneaks and socks helpless locked into that device.

I kept grunting into the massive gag in protest, but at no time did they even hesitate to perform all that. One of them then, he seemed to be the boss, was behind me and added a collar around my neck, but i also immediately felt it, the contacts of the embedded tens unit dug into my skin... and i was right as he then came to my front and told me:

'Now, you're going to be part of the display now for the duration of today's event. Visitors are free to touch as they want, take pictures with or of you, however there is no release until the end of the event tonight. Additionally the three of us running this stand here will also make use of your diapers as our personal pissoir, we'll be filling it whenever we need to go, that way none of us has to actually leave the stand throughout the day and you will have... well... a good useful function next to being a display.

It's almost noon now, but we'll start dismantling the stand around 10pm, done by roughly 10.30 pm then, that's when you get released here.

We have your wallet and hotel key, so we'll bring your own stuff into your hotel room and will place the key to the gag there also together with a business card of us, you can keep the gag as little reward for the fun you have being locked in here the coming ten hours.

Now... You can complain and think there is somehting you can do, but you did sign the waver, which was not jsut about general liability but also the totality of your use and duration, so you signed off on all of that.

But, if you let us pack you up together with our goods here, spend the night in our stock room at the store and then the day in those stocks at our store again, you can choose two clothing and three accessory items of your choice in the store for free as reward for your ... let's call it services... but you have the coming 10-11 hours time to think about that.

Now this collar however... (he held a remote demonstratively in front of me), we don't need our display to make disturbing noises that could be understood as dislike or complaint, so the tens embedded in that collar is active.... (he pushed a button on the remote) NOW.

It responds to the vibrations you make when your vocal cords are active, any moans, grunt or attempt to talk will set it off, while surrounding noises actually do not impact it. You have one try , one only, it will last just 3 seconds and stop, but it will show you what you're in fro when you fail to remain silent, after this one time try, the duration of the shocks will be a full minute each time, and i know you won't want to feel that for sure, so go ahead...'

I did not know what to say, but wanted to voice my disagreement to all of that, the gag didn't allow much so only a grunt escaped it, that however was enough to set off that collar and man, what a pain i was hit with then immediately, causing me to spasm frantically while unable to even shout out in pain, luckily it was over quickly, but i kept panting for quite a while after that, f*ck..

He stood there watching and after it happened confirmed again: 'Any time you grunt, moan or try talking, a full mnute of that, remmeber!'

Then he left back to the counter, me still panting, now staring outward, helpless, fucked to remain in those stocks in this humiliating diaper for.. damn... all day.... and not able to make any noise... this would be... damn....

FOOTBALL TEAM’S BITCH

It had been a filthy, bone-breaking practice, and our white practice pants were caked with mud, our jerseys soaked through by the cold, spitting rain. But I didn’t complain. Junior varsity freshmen don’t complain, not if they want a chance to ever play in a real game. I wasn’t a big guy, not by a long shot. I still looked like a teenager - but then again, I was. I was slight and had to look up to most of the other guys on the team, but I was fast and wiry and surprisingly hard to plant in the turf once I got my feet under me, so I had a thought that I might be a pretty good running back. I had been, back in high school, but I was quickly learning that college is a whole other story. As the smallest guy on the junior varsity team, I was just about invisible to the larger, first-string players. I kept it that way, figuring the best way to show myself was on the field, by taking the pain of practice and never complaining, and the coaches at least had started, I hoped, to see something in me. It was early in the year, the other students hadn’t even arrived on campus, and classes hadn’t started. That’s how early we began football practice.

I had just begun to lift the pads from my shoulders, trailing wet nylon over my face, when a loud hoot echoed off the locker-room walls. I didn’t think much of it. There was always a lot of noise in the lockers, howling and bragging and yelling. But this shout was a signal. I’m hard to plant, but only on the field and only if I know what’s coming. Plus, they didn’t even try to plant me. Hands - one pair still wearing a pair of sticky wide receiver gloves - grabbed at me, two pair on my arms, two on my legs, and they lifted me from the ground as easily as pulling a weed. I flailed, but I still had my pads half-off, half-on, and the clammy nylon practice jersey clung to my face. A storm of laughing voices drowned out my own cries. The quality of the sound changed, and they yanked my pads off, baring my chest with its wet, clinging under layer of tight Lycra.

They’d carried me into the storage closet, a room filled with various bits of gear, uniforms, pads, elastic bands and other workout gear. It was a room we mostly stayed out of, on coach’s orders. Jeering faces looked down at me, smeared with mud, a couple with helmets still on. Jarrett was a wide-bodied fullback who probably had a good eighty pounds on me. He had my legs, both of them, and while I tried to twist and kick at him with my muddy cleats, I got nowhere. He just grinned up at me, a shaved-headed ape with a vicious glint in his eye. Nate had one of my arms, the first-string quarterback, a blond stud who never had trouble getting his dick wet on the weekends - at least, judging from his locker room talk. And the Chad pinned my other arm, a tight end that could bench-press me. A grinning second-string running back, Keith, was digging at the laces of my pants. I gulped air, considered screaming. But Nate must have seen it in my eyes. He pinned my arm between his thighs and clamped a hand over my mouth. I tasted mud and rain and sweat on his skin. I tried to pull my hand free, pressed between the smooth, wet fabric of his practice pants, but I couldn’t get it out. His legs were too strong. They were all too strong. And I didn’t want them to get my pants off, because once they did, they'd see my dirty little secret. I flailed and blushed and twisted and got nowhere, and the running back yanked down my practice pants. Jarrett got my cleats off, one at a time, holding both ankles tight in one massive, meaty hand while he worked the laces with the other. Then they raked my pants off, and with them my wet football girdle, the lycra sliding smoothly down my hairless thighs and that was it… my little caged cock was now exposed to all of the football team. “wooow look, what the fuck is that!” said Jarrett, and the others mainly laughed and repeated the same sentence even louder. “I was sure he was a fag, look at his tiny little locked numb, how pathetic!”. They continued laughing for quite some time and I was completely red of shame. Keith flicked my locked cock. It was bobbing in the cool air. I flinched from his touch, but my cock didn’t shrivel. Their laughter was almost a solid thing, holding me down as firmly as the hands.

Duct tape ripped behind me, and they looped it around my wrists, then around my ankles, all the way up to my knees. I did have some hair on my calves, but I figured I wouldn’t once I got out of this tape. Nate leaned down, neatly sculpted blond eyebrows drawn together. “You a faggot?” he asked. I grunted negation into his palm. But he didn’t look convinced. “I think it’s pretty obvious now that you’re a faggot” he said. “Don’t know if we have any use for a faggot on the team. Huh, what do you think, guys?” They howled and barked, more animal than human. Someone looped more duct tape around me, binding my upper arms to my chest, my lower arms to my abs - I was helpless, completely mummified in it. I even felt more layer being added to my already mummified body. Soon all of my skin disappeared under layers and layers of thick duct tape, making me completely powerless and at the mercy of my team; there was absolutely nothing I could do except breathing.

I tried to struggle, but that just made my cock harder in my cage. Keith kept flicking my dick and balls. He was a sneering little punk with knuckle tattoos that said LOVE and HATE and a slicked-back high and tight that was almost a mohawk. No one really liked him; even the coaches didn’t care much for him. But he was a hell of a running back and one of the hottest guy on the team. They laid me down on a lifting bench, then flipped me. My drooling cock rubbed the torn plastic surface of the bench, and fingers rubbed and probed at my ass. “You can always tell if they’re fags” Keith said, “’Cause they’ll have loose, soggy assholes like a girl’s pussy.” “Don’t know what girls’ pussies you been playing with” Jarrett grumbled. “Just your mom’s” he said. A finger - I have no idea whose - brushed my hole, and a warm spasm flickered over me, uncomfortably close to orgasm. I didn’t know why this was turning me on, if that’s what was happening, or if this was just a reaction to fear. I struggled, but could barely move, and each wiggle or twist just rubbed my cock against the bench, bringing me closer to a humiliating caged orgasm. “Seems pretty tight to me” was the verdict, and the finger withdrew. They flipped me back over.

Someone had taken off their sweaty, very smelly, and dirty football sock, wadded it into a thick ball, and they shoved that into my mouth, well Keith violently shoved it into my mouth looking at me with the same little smirk “can’t have you making too much noise right faggot”. A thick strip of duct-tape went over that, and nearly five times around my head. “enjoy your little faggot meal” said Keith. Then the team decided to tape me to the bench to make me even more immobile and powerless. They started to put layers and layers of duct tape efficiently taping me to the bench and making me even more immobile than before. Even my taped mouth and head was strapped to the bench with more tape, then I saw Nate’s beautiful face again “that should keep you in place haha, in your faggot bitch place!”.

About half the team was either in the room or watching from the locker room, and almost all of them had their phones in hand, recording this, maybe putting it on the internet. But then Nate leaned over my face. “You got a little dirty during practice huh bitch” he said. “Time for your shower” He gathered a big wad of spit in his mouth, rumbled in his throat to augment it with snot, and launched it to splat right against the side of my nose. It trickled down my face slowly, tickling, but I couldn’t wipe it away. They followed the leader, then, each of them adding a gob of slimy spit to my face, until I had to hold my breath to keep from inhaling it up my nose and drowning in the team’s saliva. It seemed everyone on the team contributed a wad of spit to my face. Spattering me, jeering at me, laughing at me. I was no longer invisible to them, that was for sure. I thought it would never end, spit and insults and occasional slaps at my treacherously caged cock and taped face.

But then they left, and on the way out, Nate flicked off the light. “Sleep tight little faggot bitch and enjoy your homemade facemask!” he said. I figured that’d be the end, that it’d be over. I figured they’d leave me there for a while, until either I was rescued by the cleaning people or, more likely, Nate would come back and untape me and let me go and we’d all have a laugh about it. But it was barely the beginning. Because while they still shouted and howled and cranked the music in the locker room, they hadn’t forgotten me.

In fact, a few minutes later, the door opened and the lights came back on. Jarrett stood over me, still caked in mud. Didn’t these fuckers have classes to get to? I had bio of cells in a half an hour, and if I didn’t get out of this duct tape and shit I’d miss it. Jarrett smiled big, broad face and square jaw, like a politician seeking votes. “Hey, little bitch.” He’d taken off all his clothes except his football girdle, tight white fabric stretched over his broad thighs and ass, a substantial bulge in the front. They did nothing to hide the line of his penis against his soft, thick balls. His body was hard with muscle, but a soft layer of fat covered them, smoothed them out “like what you see huh?”. I grunted in the tape. Something like “let me go” but it came out all in vowels. The sock against my tongue and teeth was gritty and salty. Someone’s foot sweat. I didn’t even know whose.

Jarrett stood over me, turned around and started straddling my face “now you’re gonna love this as much as I do fag”. Then he lowered his fat, muscled and magnificent ass. Sweat had soaked through the spandex, making it translucent, and the dark line of his ass crack descended over my face, my nose and covered mouth. I tossed my head, but he rested some of his weight on me, trapping me with my nose in his crack. “Sniff it,” he said. “Come on bitch, do a buddy a favour and sniff my ass.” I couldn’t do anything but obey.

The tape and sock in my mouth prevented me from breathing other than through my nose, and now I smelled the dank, rich stink of his ass after a long and grueling practice. He wiggled, grinding himself against me. Then he put more weight on me. I tried to draw breath, couldn’t - only a thin thread of air slid between his clenching ass and my face. And that air was dank with sweat. I thrashed, helplessly, uselessly. I was going to suffocate here, I thought. He was going to kill me in the storage closet in the back of the football locker room. It’d be in the news. But just as my lungs burned and my breath began to slide into panic, he stood up. “You got spit all over my butt,” he said. Not my own, of course. The team’s. “Nasty.” I sucked sweet air through my nose, refilling my lungs. My heart thudded, but began to calm.

“you’re a pretty good ass sniffer, right little bitch” he said, turning around facing me again a casually slapping my duct taped face, “better ass sniffer than player should I say, glad I found you a way to be useful for us men right” he added before pinching my nose, effectively preventing me from breathing at all. He was still smiling, enjoying having me in this predicament. Then, when I thought I was about to pass out, he released my nostrils, and I was able to draw laborious breathing… but not for long… soon after, he turned around again and positioned his marvellous ass right above my face. “Ready for round two fag?” I tried shouting again, I really wanted out, but it was pointless as the sock was transforming everything into muffled cries. Then it happened again, and Jarrett lowered his big ass right onto my face. His positioned his crack right on my nose and put some weight on it, effectively forcing it closer to his asshole.

This time the smell was even stronger. It nearly made me wanna puke to think that I had my nose buried into Jarrett ass, nearly touching his dirty hole. My beautiful captor on the other hand seemed to enjoy what was going on and moaned. “nice and deep breath right bitch, must make you hard in your little faggot cage, enjoy the funkiness!”.

Because some people have been asking for it, here's the second part to my little cuckold ABDL story.

The plastic crinkled beneath him as Ethan shifted his weight in the crib, the sound echoing in his ears. His fingers trembled against the crib rails—he could climb out right now, rip this stupid onesie off, and storm out. But something kept him rooted in place, his thighs pressing together against the thick padding between them. Curiosity? Desire? Jared’s words looped in his head: "Soaked. Messy. However you wanna get there." The humiliation burned, but deeper still, a traitorous heat coiled low in his stomach and in the spreading blush across his face.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth around the pacifier. It shouldn’t feel this good—the way the diaper bunched between his legs, the way Jared’s hands had lingered on his hips like he was something precious. He wasn’t supposed to like this. But the thought of Jared’s approval—his deep, rumbling praise—sent a jolt through him. What would it look like, to be a good boy for another man?

A tear slid down his cheek, and he hated himself for it. He was crying—actually crying—like some over-tired toddler. He sucked harder on the pacifier, the rhythmic motion steadying him against the storm in his chest. The crib smelled faintly of baby powder, and god, why did that make his throat tighten?

The diaper rustled as he pressed his thighs together, testing the sensation. Thick and undeniable. He could almost hear Jared’s voice again, that teasing lilt: "You’re being such a good boy." Ethan bit down on the pacifier, a whimper escaping him. He hated how much he wanted to hear that again.

His stomach twisted. Was he really considering this? He could feel himself teetering on the edge—one moment away from giving in or bolting. Fine. Fine. He’d do it—just to see. Just to know. His stomach clenched as he let go, the warmth spreading between his legs slowly. The scent hit him immediately—earthy and his—and he buried his face in the crib mattress with a choked noise. He was a baby. A baby with a messy diaper.

The diaper sagged heavier now, clinging to him in ways he couldn’t ignore. He shuddered, pressing his thighs tight together as the humiliation—and something darker, hotter—settled deep in his belly. His pacifier bobbed as he swallowed hard. Jared would know, immediately. He’d come back and see—and god, Ethan didn’t know if he wanted to die or melt into the crib.

Footsteps echoed down the hall—heavy, deliberate. Ethan’s breath caught. The doorknob turned with a soft click. Jared alone filled the doorway, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat before his lips curled into a slow, approving smile. "Well, well," he murmured, stepping inside. "Look who chose right." His fingers brushed Ethan’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "Good boy." The praise sent a jolt through Ethan’s spine, his toes curling against the crib bars.

Jared’s hands slid under Ethan’s armpits, lifting him from the crib with effortless strength. The diaper felt heavy between his thighs, the scent of powder doing little to mask the sharper, more intimate smell beneath. Ethan squirmed, but Jared just chuckled, adjusting his grip like Ethan’s resistance was nothing more than a kitten’s fussing. "Shh, shh," Jared murmured, his breath warm against Ethan’s ear as he carried him to the oversized rocking chair in the corner. "Daddy’s got you."

The chair creaked under their combined weight as Jared settled in, pulling Ethan onto his lap with a firm hand on the small of his back. Then—deliberately, inexorably—Jared pressed down, forcing Ethan’s weight fully into the filled diaper. The squish was immediate, the mess pressing back against Ethan’s skin in a way that made his stomach flip. He gasped around the pacifier, his face burning. Jared’s arm curled around his waist, holding him close. "There we go," Jared rumbled, his voice vibrating through Ethan’s chest. "Feel that? That’s what happens when Daddy’s little boy... just... let's... go."

The words shouldn’t have sent a jolt of heat through him—shouldn’t have made his fingers curl into Jared’s shirt. But they did. Jared’s thumb brushed over Ethan’s lower lip, nudging the pacifier aside just enough to see his mouth. "You’re blushing," Jared observed, amused. "Cute." He tapped the front of Ethan’s diaper, making the plastic crinkle. "But this? This is proof. Proof you’re just a baby. My baby." His hand slid up Ethan’s spine, possessive and warm. "And babies need their daddies to clean up their messes. Don't they?"

The rocking chair swayed gently, the rhythm almost soothing despite the humiliation simmering under Ethan’s skin. Jared’s fingers trailed down to the waistband of the onesie, popping the snaps open one by one with agonizing slowness. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, but Jared tutted, tilting his chin up. "No. Look at me." Ethan’s eyelids fluttered open, meeting Jared’s dark, knowing gaze. "Good boy," Jared murmured, and the praise settled in Ethan’s chest like a brand.

Jared’s fingers traced idle circles over the soaked padding, pressing just enough to make Ethan squirm. The rocking chair creaked beneath them, a slow, rhythmic sound that somehow made everything feel more intimate. Jared leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Feel that mess in there?" he murmured, his voice thick with something between amusement and tenderness. "That’s because you belong in diapers, little one. Your body knows it, even if your big boy brain hasn’t caught up yet."

The mess between his legs was impossible to ignore now—every shift in Jared’s lap sent a fresh wave of humiliation through him. Jared chuckled, low and rich, as if he could hear the frantic pulse of Ethan’s thoughts. "Oh, sweetheart," he sighed, palming the front of the diaper with deliberate pressure. "You’re so embarrassed, aren’t you? But you’re also hard as a rock."

The observation landed like a slap. Ethan’s hips jerked involuntarily, and Jared’s grin widened. "There it is," he crooned, fingers dipping under the waistband just enough to tease. "That’s the part of you that gets it. The part that knows you’re mine."

Ethan whimpered as Jared’s hands settled on his hips, guiding him forward until he straddled Jared’s thick thigh. Jared’s grip tightened, fingers digging into the softness of Ethan’s onesie-covered hips. "Giddy-up, little cowboy," Jared murmured, his voice a dark rumble that sent shivers down Ethan’s spine.

Jared shifted, lifting his knee just enough to press it firmly against the soaked padding between Ethan’s thighs. Ethan gasped, his hands flying to Jared’s shoulders for balance as the motion forced him to rock forward, the friction sending a jolt of heat through him. Jared’s grin was wolfish, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched Ethan squirm. "That’s it," he coaxed, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Ride Daddy’s leg like a good little buckaroo."

Ethan’s face burned, his breath coming in short bursts as Jared’s knee nudged him into a slow, rhythmic grind. The diaper bunched with every movement, the mess inside pressing against him in ways that made his stomach turn with humiliation—and something else, something hotter and far more shameful. Jared’s hands slid up his sides, thumbs brushing the underside of his ribs. "You’re gonna love your new life, baby boy," he purred, his breath warm against Ethan’s ear. "Huggies, bottles for bedtime, and Daddy’s lap for whenever you need a little… attention."

The words sent a fresh wavethrough Ethan, his hips stuttering forward despite himself. Jared chuckled again as he pressed his knee up harder, the pressure just shy of unbearable. "See?" Jared murmured, his lips grazing Ethan’s temple. "You’re made for this. Made to be small and helpless and mine. And Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you."

Ethan's thighs trembled as Jared's knee nudged insistently against his padded crotch, forcing him into a slow, rhythmic rock. His onesie hung open now, the snaps undone, exposing the swollen front of his diaper. Jared's thumb traced the wet plastic "You're gonna wake up like this every morning," Jared continued, his voice a dark purr. "Diaper soaked and full, cock aching for Daddy's attention." He tilted Ethan's chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. "And you know what happens then?"

Ethan shook his head, his pulse hammering in his throat. Jared grinned. "Daddy changes you," he said, punctuating each word with a sharp upward thrust of his knee. "Cleans you up nice and gentle. Then…" His fingers trailed down to the waistband of the diaper, hooking under the elastic. "Maybe rubs a little lotion on that pretty little cock of yours. Just to take the edge off."

Ethan’s breath hitched as Jared’s fingers teased the waistband of his diaper, the plastic crinkling with every slight tug. The mess between his legs was warm and inescapable, but worse—so much worse—was the way his body arched into Jared’s touch, betraying him completely.

Ethan’s hips stuttered forward helplessly, his fingers clawing at Jared’s shoulders as the pressure built. Jared’s smile was all teeth. "Go on, baby boy. Ride it out." His hands slid down to grip Ethan’s waist, guiding him into a relentless rhythm.

Ethan's vision blurred at the edges, his body moving on autopilot as Jared's hands steered him through each humiliating rock of his hips. The pacifier muffled his whimpers, but nothing could hide the way his thighs trembled or how his cock twitched against the wet padding with every grind. The smell—warm and intimate—filled the space between them.

"Almost there," Jared murmured, his palm pressing flat against Ethan's stomach as if he could feel the tension coiling inside him. His other hand slid down to cup the swollen front of the diaper, fingers kneading the plastic just enough to make Ethan's breath hitch. "Daddy knows. Daddy always knows."

The words shouldn't have unraveled him. But when Jared's thumb pressed down in one firm circle, Ethan's back arched violently, his toes curling as pleasure ripped through him. The diaper grew damp in a whole new way, warmth spreading in sticky pulses as Ethan shuddered, his fingers gripping Jared's shirt like a lifeline. "DADDY!! OH!!"

Jared rocked Ethan through the aftershocks, his touch gentling but never stopping. "There's my good boy," he crooned. "Daddy's perfect little mess."

The rocking chair stilled as Jared cradled Ethan against his chest, his heartbeat steady and slow beneath Ethan’s ear. The pacifier slipped from Ethan’s slack mouth, landing with a soft plop. Jared didn’t seem to mind—just pressed a kiss to Ethan’s sweat-damp forehead and murmured, "Daddy’s got you."

Ethan’s limbs felt boneless, his thoughts syrupy and slow. He should’ve been scrambling away, should’ve been furious, but all he could manage was a weak fist against Jared’s shoulder. Jared caught his wrist effortlessly, bringing Ethan’s fingers to his lips for a teasing nibble. "Uh-uh," he chided. "No hitting. Babies use their words."

Ethan’s cheeks burned. Words. Right. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a hoarse, "Why?"

Jared’s smile was indulgent, like Ethan had asked why the sky was blue. "Because you need this," he said simply, his thumb tracing the waistband of Ethan’s ruined diaper. "Because deep down, you’ve always needed someone to take care of you. To own you." His fingers tightened possessively around Ethan’s hip. "Lucky for you, Daddy loves taking care of his playthings."

The diaper sagged between Ethan’s thighs, warm and heavy, as Jared lifted him effortlessly from the rocking chair. Ethan’s legs dangled, toes brushing the carpet, his onesie hanging open where Jared had unsnapped it earlier. Jared’s hands spanned his waist like he was something delicate—something precious. "Time for a change, baby boy," Jared murmured, his breath hot against Ethan’s temple.

Ethan’s stomach flipped as Jared carried him to the changing table, the vinyl crinkling beneath him as he was laid out like an offering. The overhead light was too bright, too clinical, casting Jared’s shadow over Ethan’s body in a way that made him feel impossibly small. Jared’s fingers hooked under the waistband of the ruined diaper, peeling it back with a slow, deliberate drag that sent a shiver up Ethan’s spine. The cool air hit his damp skin, and he twitched, his cock lying half-hard against his stomach.

Jared hummed, running a thumb along the inside of Ethan’s thigh. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. "All messy for Daddy." His fingers trailed higher, brushing the crease of Ethan’s hip, and Ethan’s breath hitched. Jared’s smile was slow, predatory. "First time a man’s touched you like this, isn’t it?"

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, but Jared’s fingers caught his chin, forcing his gaze up. "Uh-uh. Eyes on Daddy." Jared’s thumb pressed against Ethan’s lower lip, dragging it down just enough to expose the pink beneath. "You’re gonna watch. Gonna learn." His other hand slid down Ethan’s stomach, fingers tracing the outline of his cock with feather-light touches that made Ethan’s hips jerk involuntarily.

Jared chuckled, wrapping his fingers around Ethan’s shaft in a firm grip. "There it is," he murmured, his thumb swiping over the head, smearing pre-come in slow circles. "Daddy’s gonna teach you how good it feels." His strokes were steady, relentless, each one sending jolts of pleasure.

Jared leaned in, his lips brushing Ethan’s ear. "You’re gonna come a second time for Daddy," he whispered, his voice rough with promise. "Gonna let Daddy see how pretty you look when you fall apart in your mess." His thumb pressed against the slit of Ethan’s cock, twisting on the upstroke, and Ethan gasped, his back arching off the table.

Ethan’s vision blurred as the tension snapped, his body shuddering as he came with a broken cry, stripes of white painting his stomach. Jared’s hand didn’t stop, milking him through it until Ethan whimpered, oversensitive and trembling.

Jared peeled the useddiaper away, tossing it into the waiting pail with a wet plop. He didn’t seem to mind the explosion of poop against Ethan's skin—just grabbed a wipe and began cleaning with slow, methodical strokes. "There we go," he murmured, his fingers lingering in the crease of Ethan’s hip. "Daddy’s got baby all nice and fresh."

Ethan shivered, his skin pebbling under Jared’s touch. The cool air bit at his damp flesh, but worse was the way Jared’s gaze lingered—like he was memorizing every twitch, every flush of Ethan’s skin. Jared reached for a fresh diaper, unfolding it with a practiced flick. Ethan’s stomach dropped when he saw the print: Lion King characters frolicking across the padding, Simba’s cartoon face grinning up at him like this was some adorable joke. HUGGIES.

“UHHH?!? UHHH!! UHH!?!”

…his cock straining…as these men seal him up…

(Fiction) I took a relaxing walk through the woods outside of the city here during my business trip, but 20 minutes in, I stumbled over this guy… I could not actually believe it, sneaks and white socks, some boxers, a brim cap, but he sat under a branch of a fallen tree, sitting, ropes on his ankles connected to his neck visible, his arms over his head tied to that branch and a quite severe black tape gag keeping him grunt almost unheard from the far.

When he noticed me and saw I was approaching he clearly grunted louder and struggled quite a bit. Standing in front of him at the end I asked if this was a fun game or if he needed to get free, but he just kept grunting and shaking his head. I removed the tape from his head then and he was immediately swearing in his language, but also then begged me to release him.

The ropes were quickly removed, and while rubbing his sore wrists and mumbling in his language some stuff I did not understand, I looked at the scenario I just saw before and wondered, telling him then that I am sure there was a way to get free, it did not look that extensive. He shook his head and confirmed he tried for the last few hours, but could 'just' not reach what was needed. I kept shaking my head, bragging I am sure I'd have been out there in a whim.

He seemed upset and shouted back at me, if I was so certain about that, why would I not show it to him then, I will sit there in his shorts the way he did, then I can find out how futile it is.

I calmed him down, but could not let go of it, I was certain, so I told him that I'd be happy to demonstrate. I wasn't fully aware of his intent to also swap all of the outfits, but he stood there kicking off his sneaks, getting his socks off and taking down the boxers, looking at me with an expecting expression on his face. I decided to go along, why not, I did have a slight fancy for wearing other guys clothes anyway, so that was not an issue then.

Wearing his boxers, socks, sneaks and even the brim cap the way backwards he had it prior, he positioned me sitting under that branch then where he was before. While doing so he made even small talk, where I was from, what I did here and such, I told him about the business trip and the relaxing walk I took after quite a day of stressful meetings.

He placed during that my hands above my head, crossed wrists, then started to tie them to that branch the same way he had them, tight enough not to be able to get free but also not be able to move those arms from the x-crossed posture much, plenty rope wound around the branch, barely any space between hands and branch and then knotted shut, tight and just between crossed wrists and branch, my hands certainly would not reach them, but I still was confident.

He then attended the ankles, feet tight next to each other, plenty rounds of rope around the ankles and also between the roped ankles to tighten it a little more even, he then folded up my legs so my thighs touched my chest, then started pressing them even tighter against my chest, only then he used the long ends of the ankle ropes to lead those behind my neck, pushing down my head a little even before winding it twice around the neck, and then leading it back to the ankles where the knotted it expertly shut again.

He then looked around and went over to a near tree stump, behind it then, whoever did it to him threw away the roll duct tape, he grabbed it and went to work on my head. The rag he had in his mouth, still very wet from his saliva, went into my mouth and he started taping over mouth and around my head several times, covering from just under the nose to just under the chin, but then also continued, just like he had, to wind more tape over my head and under the chin until I figured that I had almost no movement in my jaw, that tape kept it firmly shut.

He then ditched the tape back where he picked it up and stood in front of me, still actually naked, arms crossed in front of his chest, grinning, telling me to show him how to escape from it. I started my struggled, the way I envisioned it earlier, get on my tip toes, that should allow me to reach the tape and pull it off, which then allows me to use my teeth to free my hands.

I used my tied arms above to support me pulling myself up on tip toes, but immediately also noticed the rope around neck connected to the ankles was quite a hindrance. The way it was tightened earlier kept my legs firmly on my chest, so even on tip toes finally after quite some struggles, my head was still firmly pulled downward towards those ankles. With my hands having barely any room to move downward or get out of the crossed posture, I did try stretching myself upwards a lot, to the extent where the ropes around my neck tightened too much and I felt air and blood getting thinner to the extent of soon passing out if I continued.

But no matter how hard and how far I went with pulling myself towards the hands, I just could not reach that tape, my head was still at least two inches away from my fingers, additionally the balancing act I needed to perform to stay on tip toes in this predicament did not help either, forcing me to use the wrists tied to stabilize, and once I tried making use of those hands again I was finding my balled up body on tip toes tumble around again. Still… Whatever force I applied, however far I dared going to cut off blood and air with the neck rope, there was always that inch distance left at the end.

He watched me struggle for about ten minutes, kept grinning, then while I continued, he started getting dressed in my stuff. Undies, socks, sweatpants and hoodie, finally the sneaks as well. He even then checked my pockets, found my wallet and my hotel keys. I could not do anything about that, did not actually agree with it, but my struggling also exhausted me quickly, so at the end I decided to sit back as I was for a moment, I'd give it another shot soon.

He then said: 'I got as far as you got many times, but believe me, that is the extent of reach you have, 'just' not enough. And now that I am standing here, I think I should actually not get you off that spot. You see, I wasn't here for a few hours, I was here like this for the last three weeks already.

This used to be a cruising area, but because it was marked AYOR a long time ago, people started avoiding it. Gangs came along regular, robbed, abused, beat up the guys around here for fun. I came here out of curiosity, just to check the place out, but I ran into one of those gangs and they jumped me, stripped me down to that (pointing at me) and tied me here like this.

They come around every day, well some of them, not always the same, but they are all from the same gang. They pulled me regular on to my knees, pulled down the boxers and fucked me, other times they removed the gag and mouth fucked me, or it happened at the same time even. They did feed me every other day, but once they were done with having their fun, I ended up gagged sitting like that once again. Sometimes they showed up once day, sometimes more of them showed up during day or evening, but the purpose was always the same, fuck the crap out of my ass and mouth.

During all that time, I found out they had occupied my apartment, made it their home base, used my cards, money, gear, but they also posted clips and images of me being their toy all over the media, which led to what started a week ago, they brought strangers to use me the same way and I have seen them cash in for that at the end then also.

So when they come back either later today or tomorrow, if I am not siting here, I don't know what they would do, they have my name, my apartment, they are feared by everyone around here, so I guess if I leave them another toy behind, they might not go after me, or at least not so quick.

I'll go to your hotel, enjoy a long warm bath for sure, your ticket in your wallet said you are due to fly the day after tomorrow, giving me another extra day enjoying your hotel before I will use the night shift, likely not knowing your face, to check you out of the hotel. I know some guys and am pretty sure that I will be able to sell your cards and passport for good money to them, enough for me to move to the other side of the country and never run into that gang here again, and I am sure the content of your suitcase is enough to start fresh again.

Given how much those guys here enjoy abusing their victim, that being you from now on, and how they started making money off that as well, added to the fact that nobody else dares coming into this area anymore since a long time, I would say you are stuck here for as long as they can make money off you, which probably is a long time. They had no intention of releasing me ever as I heard them say many times, so I guess you're going to become just another 'disappeared' unsolved case at the end.

Well, I am off, a nice hot bath is waiting for me, you keep trying, as you said, it is easy to get out, well… enjoy the months and potentially years to come here.'

With that he disappeared and I grunted in protest for a while, but with him far already, he unlikely even heard it. Was that it? Was I to be stuck here like him forever? I had to get out, so I started again…

But…

We're a year further, I lost count how many hundreds dicks were in my ass and mouth so far and have given up expecting a change also by now. While they were initially surprised to find someone else sit here instead, they just took more clips and images to post and I became simply the 'replacement' with no change otherwise. The fact that they make even more money from a 'western foreigner' being available to abuse did not help in the futile hopes of a release at any time. Obviously I tried in the beginning, but the times without the gag I have learned to remain silent and resistance of any kind is futile, their punishments were torture of an extremely cruel kind whenever I did, so by now I am just a compliant helpless fuck toy they sell to anyone who pays enough.