It was a long, miserable night. When she was "babysitting" the twins, she'd spent a lot of time in her crib, but even then, in a technically more babyish setting, she'd been able to move around some. Here, she really did feel like a doll, one still attached to her box, unable to get away. And there the worst she'd had to listen to was the parties the girls had thrown, knowing she could do nothing to stop them.
For quite a while, there was silence in her little room, other than the sound of her futile attempts at movement - the clinking of chains, the crinkling of plastic. There was, in fact, not much of anything in her room. Everywhere she looked was just pink, pink, and more pink. The only thing she could do, really, was look for the few places it wasn't, such as her own bare, sweaty skin, sticking to the plastic sheet beneath her, and the green and white of the packages of diapers stacked up against the far wall. Her diapers were white, too, but she tried her best not to look at them, wanting no more of a reminder that they existed than the feeling of them, hot and thick and wet against her. The rest of her body was sweating, too, but it was nothing compared to what was going on in her diapers, courtesy of all those layers of padding and the warm urine trapped inside - constantly added to by her traitorous bladder, too overextended by all the lemonade that had been forced into her to be able to resist a near constant dribbling.
She could see a bit of blue through her little window, too, but it was too high up on the wall for her to be able to see much more from where she was. After what felt like days, the blue began to darken, turning to night, which triggered a pink-shaded nightlight to click on, keeping the room just about as bright as the sun had. She wondered at first why they'd gotten one so bright, then realized it must be so they could still see her on the camera.
The thought made her blush furiously, but also made her wonder if they were back yet. Were they watching her right now? The thought was rather creepy, not least because there was nothing she could do about it. She was held there, on full display, all but naked, unable to cover herself. At most, she could turn her head, but that seemed silly, considering they both knew quite well who she was already, and even if they didn't, that motion wouldn't work terribly well to camouflage her identity.
The thought of Gail slobbering over her image as she got the attention she had so desperately craved made Barbara feel sick to her stomach, though, to be fair, she had a feeling some of that was coming from another source. The bloated feeling had slowly been making its way through her body, toward its inevitable end in the seat of her diaper. She was terrified that, like her bladder, once she let control slip away, she wouldn't fully get it back until it was empty, but she knew she couldn't hold it forever.
She was determined, however, to make it through the night. Who knew how long their anniversary lovemaking would go on? While she doubted they'd really be able to tell, she still refused to let them see her in a messy diaper as they did it. It was her own little act of defiance, a pitiful one, she knew, but all she could manage.
Even though she could no longer tell exactly where the camera was, she tried to keep from looking at it, wondering if she should try to get some sleep, if she even could get to sleep in this position. Her bottom was getting quite itchy by then, not helped in the least by the small amount of rubbing she could do by sliding it over her bed. This was diaper rash, she realized. She'd babysat plenty of kids with it... It was surreal to think she was the one with it, now. The little girl with the red bottom, doing her best to find a way to get rid of the unpleasant feeling there and helpless to do so - that was her.
In the middle of feeling sorry for herself, she heard a loud bang that might have made her jump, had she been able to move, then loud, drunken giggling. Her stomach fell as it was followed by a loud moan. They hadn't been watching her before, she realized, because they were home yet after all. It had felt like they should have been, by how much time she was sure had to have passed. Either they'd stayed out later than she expected, or it was still relatively early. Neither prospect made her particularly happy.
Her heart fluttered as she heard a voice, one that had to be his. It was too quiet to understand as more than a mumble, but just the sound of it stirred up the passion in her loins automatically, images of the way that afternoon should have gone popping into her head. She'd have met him there in the bedroom, dressed like a naughty schoolgirl, telling him she needed a punishment. He'd ask her why, and she'd lift up her skirt, as he'd made her do all those times in the store, but this time she'd take his hand, guide it to them, let him feel just what he did to her. His fingers would play over her wet privates, pressing the damp fabric against them, as he told her that she did, indeed, need to learn a lesson.
She heard the squeaking of bedsprings, her breath growing faster as she incorporated it into her little dream world, seeing him push her onto the bed. It was a little scary, sure, but she liked it when he took charge - didn't the fact that she'd let him talk her into changing her wardrobe prove that? She start to unbutton her shirt, but her fingers were too clumsy, too clammy from excitement over knowing what was going to come after such a long dry spell for her, so he'd take over, hands deftly stripping her, running over her naked body. She'd squirm up higher on the bed, giving him room to climb on as well, straddling her, one knee on either side of her tiny body, quivering in anticipation. He'd bend down, hands at his belt, kiss her neck, and then...
She snapped out of it, flushed and a little dazed, as the sound of Gail's moaning cut through her fantasy cruelly. None of that was happening, she knew, not to her. Not now, probably not ever, at least not with him. No, Gail was the one getting it, the woman who had drugged her, diapered her, chained her here. Who was probably watching her, the sight of her and her soggy diapers exciting her, making her kiss him all the harder, moan all the louder. Barbara wanted to give some sign of defiance, but in her mittens, she couldn't flip off the camera; with her pacifier, she couldn't even stick out her tongue, childish as that would have been. She couldn't even cover her ears to drown out the sounds, which stretched on and on.
It was almost a relief when the cramps started, giving her something else to concentrate on. Somewhat unsurprisingly, they started out quite large and painful, and only grew as the time passed, giving her her own reason to groan. It became quickly quite obvious that she wasn't going to make it until the morning, but she still fought to keep herself contained for as long as she could, feeling the smallest of victories as, other than her own desperate noises, the house grew quiet. At the very least, she thought to herself, she'd outlasted them. That was all she'd really wanted.
And then, to her horror, the door to the room flew open and Gail walked in, flipping on the light. She was wearing just a bathrobe now, a red one that came midway down her thighs and strained to pop open at top. "Ohh, Barbie," she said with a grin, "I don't know about you, but I can barely walk straight after that." Barbara blushed, eliciting a giggle from Gail, obviously still tipsy, as she made her way over to Barbara's bed and started to unhook the clips. "I thought I'd be a good mommy and let you have a little midnight snack," she said. Barbara looked around, confused, not seeing any food, or even a bottle, and nowhere the woman could be hiding it.
Barbara whimpered as she was wracked with another cramp, her now free hands clasping over her unhappy tummy with the sound of leather slapping lightly against flesh. "Oh, and you're going to make me an anniversary present, too?" Gail tittered. "You didn't have to do that! You ARE my present! But I won't say no!"
Still laughing, the woman sat down on the bed, pushing Barbara out of the way first, then yanking the girl over her lap. Barbara was still unsure just what was going on until Gail let the robe fall off of her shoulder, one enormous breast popping out. "N-No," she protested, trying to squirm away. That was too much...
"You be good!" Gail instructed her, smacking the back of her leg. "You don't know how long I've been working to get this ready for you... And you are going to drink it!" With that, Barbara felt herself being lifted, shoved against the woman's body.
Mumbling, horrified, she tried to squirm away, shuddering at the salty taste of sweat on her lips from the woman's skin, and the thought of why she was so sweaty. Her legs were swatted again, harder, then she felt her head being moved, positioned over Gail's nipple. She stared up, teary eyed, but the woman's expression was rapturous, only growing happier at Barbara's silent pleading for mercy.
"Suck," Gail ordered. Barbara sniffled, starting to cry, but another spank, even harder still, urged her on. Trying not to think of what her mouth was wrapped around, attempting to ignore the taste of flesh, she began to suck. The first time or two, nothing happened, and then, to her shock, she felt her mouth fill with warm milk. She gasped, nearly gagging, pulling away and letting most of that mouthful dribble down her chin before her face was shoved back into place.
It tasted too different from cow's milk for her to pretend it was that, even if the warmth of the woman's bosom pressed against her could let her forget where she was, and what she was doing. But, knowing there was no escape until Gail decided she was done with her, she had no choice but to keep at it, drinking it down, filling her belly with it. After a minute or two of her giving up on fighting it, she felt Gail rearranging her in her arms, holding her in place with one, which stretched down her back to pat the seat of her diaper, while the other seemed to just pull away. After another moment, however, Barbara could feel it lightly pushing past her body, down... All Barbara could see was Gail's breasts, but her suspicions on just where that hand had gone were confirmed as the woman's breath began picking up speed.
Barbara felt dirty, used, disgusting, knowing what was going on just inches from her, and knowing it was something denied to her. Another cramp hit her, and she gasped from the pain of it, pushing away automatically, only to be returned to her place roughly. Gail held her in place firmly, pressing her tummy against her other arm, which she could feel moving up and down methodically. Barbara whimpered at the motion, and the pressure, bowels aching for release.
And then, almost in slow motion, it came. She could feel it, warm and soft and thick, pouring into her diaper, yet somehow she couldn't quite accept it was coming from her. It had to be something else, she mused, though she had no idea what. As the smell hit her and she realized just what it was, it all clicked into place. She let out an unhappy, infantile wail as her stomach contracted, pushing out more of the mush, faster now. She felt it pushing against the tight, thick layers of her diaper, only to be pushed back by Gail's hand, squishing it against Barbara's tender butt cheeks. She could feel Gail's other hand picking up the pace now, and, as if in response, her body went quicker, seeming to realize that she couldn't stop it.
Panting, she stopped drinking, but Gail didn't seem to mind now. Instead, she dragged her across her lap, plopping Barbara down over her thigh, straddling it, diaper against her bare skin before returning one hand to between her legs, the other encircling Barbara's middle, sliding her further up Gail's leg and holding her tight. Barbara felt like a tube of toothpaste being squeezed, and her body seemed content to act like it.
As she finally finished, slumping forward, exhausted, Gail began to bounce her on her leg, ensuring any inch of her inside the diaper that wasn't already covered in her own filth would be. She felt weak, and a little dizzy - she wondered if some of the alcohol Gail had drunk had made its way into her breast milk. Even when Gail gave out a final, loud moan and loosened her grip in the throes of her own ecstasy, Barbara was too stunned to try and escape. When she was pushed off Gail's lap, to the floor, and the woman had to take a moment to fan herself, she could only stand there, legs wide, diaper sagging heavily below her. What else could she do? She was standing there, thoroughly soaked and messy, bottom tingling with diaper rash, stomach full of another woman's breast milk. She'd spent two whole weeks in daycare, and never felt half as much like a baby as she did now.
Gail recovered as Barbara pondered her sad state, reaching out and running her hand down the bulging down to the crotch, which she pushed up closer to Barbara's skin, delighting in watching her squirm. "You made me a nice, big present," she noted, standing and kissing the top of Barbara's head. "What a good girl. But I think I'll wait until tomorrow to open it."
Barbara couldn't even form words to protest this. All she could do was start crying while Gail pushed her back onto the bed and chained her there, replacing the pacifier that Barbara was quite horrified to find herself sucking on, and even more to realize it was calming her slightly. "Well," Gail said, standing back up, pulling her robe back over her shoulder, though not bothering to tie it. "I'm going to go see if he's ready to go again. I bet he is, after watching that performance. Thanks, Barbie - you're the best."