Baby Brendon 1
#1 of Baby Brendon
The main fetish involved in this story is age-play, although no actual minors are involved. It's quite weird, but not as harsh as my other stories thusfar, I don't think.
Tell me what you think.
The first unusual thing Brendon noticed as he woke up was that he could not move his arms, which were tucked against his chest under his chin.
The second thing, which jarred the normally slothful feline into rude wakefulness, was that there was something big and hard jammed into his mouth.
"Mmmm! Mmmmmmm!"
Brendon panicked. He couldn't spit out whatever it was. He thrashed around impulsively and fell out of bed onto cool, hard linoleum.
He groaned from behind the gag that was in his mouth, and frightened thoughts began to fly through his mind as he realised that a gag was exactly what it was. Where the hell was he? Why was he restrained and gagged? Had he been kidnapped? Had he been drugged? He couldn't remember anything... How he'd got here, or where he'd last been.
His eyes darted around from their position inches above the hard floor - blinking out white electrical light as they did. He could see that the linoleum floor he was lying on was a garish orange colour. Lying on his side, he could see nothing but a wall and a closed door opposite him. He appeared to be in some sort of cell. The walls were painted a light yellow colour, and the door was a lime green.
Had he lost his mind? Was this a mental hospital? The strange colours were vaguely institutional - reminding him of an old hospital he'd been to before, but couldn't quite remember when.
If this was an insane asylum, however, he should have been wearing a straight-jacket, or something, and he wasn't. At this point, he realised that he wasn't wearing a great deal at all - he could feel the cold floor pressing up directly against the soft fur on his arms, back and legs. He was wearing something which covered his pelvic area, but it felt very strange... Thick and insulated. If he didn't know any better (and he didn't, really) he'd swear it felt just like a diaper.
He groaned again and tried to get up. His wrists were clamped tightly together under his chin, and connected to something thick and hard around his neck which was preventing him from looking down and verifying whether he was actually wearing a diaper and nothing else. He seemed to be able to move fine otherwise, though, except that his ankles appeared to be hobbled together with a short chain - he could hear it clinking against the linoleum.
He managed to struggle onto his knees, but his chained feet prevented him from standing up. He hobbled around on his knees to survey the room he was in further. The collar, or whatever it was that was around his neck, prevented him from moving his head at all. He couldn't look up, down, left, or right more than a few millimetres, and so he couldn't see what it was, exactly, that was restraining him. Whatever it was, it was quite light, and so he presumed it was made of some type of strong plastic.
The cell he was in - for lack of a better term - was small. Only about seven feet by seven feet. It was lit by a double neon-tube light on the ceiling - there were no windows. The only access appeared to be the green door. Brendon may have tried to hobble over and open it, except for the fact that it had no visible handle. Against the wall opposite the door was the bed he had just fallen out of. This nondescript white bed appeared to be the only furniture in the tiny cell.
Fear and confusion still reigning in his mind, Brendon manoeuvred himself awkwardly into a sitting position on the floor, leaning against the bed and facing the door. Sitting down further added to his suspicions that he was wearing a diaper - it sounded and felt just like one. He leaned back against the bed and brought his knees up close to him. He probably would have hugged them, had his arms not been restrained. He was scared.
For the first time, he noticed a peculiar sweet smell in the air - scented talcum powder? That's what it smelt like.
Maybe he had lost his mind. His heart thudded and his breath came in short puffs through his nose - his mouth being gagged as it was. His darting eyes noticed a close-circuit television camera high on the ceiling in the corner of the room, and he focussed on it as he tried to make sense of his situation. Just what the hell was going on? Who had brought him here, and why?
Brendon must have dozed off somehow, because he was startled out of a light sleep by sounds coming from the other side of the green door. He had no idea how much time had elapsed, but the ache in his bones made him think it had been quite a while. His jaw had cramped itself into a dull, painful spasm - no doubt a result of the large gag forcing his mouth open too wide. He heard what sounded like keys being jangled, and the motions of a door unlocking. It had been the first sound he'd heard thus far in his cell aside from his own breathing and heartbeat, and the tinnitus buzz of the neon light. A knot of apprehension formed in his gut, and he shifted himself into a tighter position to meet whatever it was that was about to enter his cell - as if it would somehow make him less vulnerable.
The green door swung slowly to reveal the one who had opened it. A figure in white entered and smiled down at Brendon sitting on the floor. Cougar - Brendon thought. Maybe caracal. A fairly large male feline with yellowish fur, at any rate - not a lion. His smile appeared diabolical.
"Aww, poor little guy. You fell out of bed?"
Brendon didn't respond. He just looked the larger feline in the eye - scared, but waiting patiently for him to explain what the hell was going on.
The cougar gestured behind him, and a further two people entered Brendon's cell. They were timber wolves - a man and a woman. They beamed down unnervingly at the cat. These two weren't wearing any peculiar clothes - the man was in a collared shirt and black pants with shined shoes, and the woman was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. They appeared middle-aged. Brendon got the distinct impression they were married to each other. He'd been expecting something a bit more threatening - perhaps Arab-accented terrorists informing him of his ransom, or black-suited G-men demanding to know what income he wasn't declaring to the IRS. Somehow, this abnormally normal wolf couple staring down at him and grinning unnerved him more than anything else that could have emerged from that door.
"Shame. We'll have to strap this one to the bed from now on - if you don't take him, that is."
The cougar was talking to the wolves and smiling. They were all smiling. Why did they all keep smiling, for God's sake? Brendon whimpered behind his gag as he briefly reflected that things were going from pretty-damn-strange to wtf in short order.
"Ah, honey. Look how cute he is."
The female wolf was cooing at the man who was very likely her husband. The male wolf smirked.
"He is a cute little tyke, ain't he?"
"And you always wanted a little boy..."
What the hell were these people on about? Brendon was an 18-year-old cat studying at George Washington University for his bachelor's in international relations. And he didn't consider himself particularly cute either. He felt stranger and stranger... He tried to ascertain whether he was dreaming, but it was a very realistic dream if he was...
"This little guy only joined us recently. Poor thing is still a little nervous around other people, as you can see. He really needs a loving family to nurture him. We're worried that he won't raise well in an institutional environment. Parents is what he needs."
"Let's take this one, sweetie. I love him already."
The wolf female was appealing to her husband.
"Haha, but you haven't seen any others yet!"
"I don't want to see any others. I like this one, and I'll only feel guilty later if I see any others. I'll want to take them all home!"
"Well, we can't have that," the male wolf chuckled, turning to address the cougar.
"Is there anything we should know about this one before we commit ourselves to anything?"
The cougar paused before answering him, and for the first time he stopped smiling - a look of concern came over his features instead.
"Well... As you know, we are a home for cubs who are emotionally or psychologically unwell. This guy in particular... Well, we think he has some type of behavioural disorder. He just doesn't obey very well. It's not that he's rebellious or obstinate, as such... He usually just seems scared and confused all the time. He needs a loving, but firm, hand to raise him into a proper individual. We don't think social workers will be able to fill the space of a parent in this case, and so he's a priority adoption."
The wolf couple looked at each other again, and the male squeezed his wife's paw in his.
"Are you sure, honey?"
She smiled back at him.
"Yes. Oh Joe, we're going to have such a nice little family."
The male, smiling as ever, turned back to the cougar.
"Okay, doctor. Let's go sign the forms."
Brendon couldn't believe what was happening to him. He wasn't a damn orphaned kid in need of adoption! He was a legal adult who had a loving mother regardless, if that made any difference! He had a serious boyfriend too, for that matter.
Besides, what kind of orphanage keeps its charges gagged and bound in shackles, for pete's sake? He thought he must be dreaming, or tripping on some really weird drug like he'd never done before...
The cougar approached him.
"MMMMM!" "MMMMMM!"
He squirmed away from the good doctor as best he could. He wasn't going to play along with these freaks if he could help it, that was for sure.
"Now, Brendon! That's not very nice."
The cougar wasn't smiling anymore. Apparently these people knew Brendon's name. At this moment, he failed to find it surprising.
"These good people are going to love you and care for you! They're willing to take you into their home as their son. You're going to have a real family, Brendon!"
"MMMMK OUUGH!"
Brendon was attempting a "Fuck you", but it didn't come out well.
The cougar sighed and turned to the wolves.
"I must apologize for his behaviour. Like I said, he's nervous around people. A good, but firm, hand is what he needs."
The doctor unclipped a short, stout metal pole from his belt. Brendon thought that it looked quite a lot like a lightsaber hilt from the Star Wars movies - about the same size.
"I'm sorry, Brendon, but this is for your own good."
He lunged forward quickly. Brendon tried to dodge, but of course he couldn't turn his head. The cougar grabbed a fistful of Brendon's long headfur - painfully holding him totally immobile. He then reached behind Brendon's head with the lightsaber-thing and Brendon could feel him fiddling with the collar contraption around his neck.
Apparently he'd attached the thing to the back of Brendon's collar, because he pulled on it as he helped Brendon to his feet. It felt as though the pole had been rigidly attached - like a handle - to the back of Brendon's collar.
Once on his feet, Brendon tried to kick out at the "doctor", but was reminded of the chain hobble between his legs when his kick only went a few inches before being painfully stopped. The doctor noticed, however.
"Naughty boy! Honestly, this will teach you to kick people."
Brendon gasped as he felt a painful jerk from the stiff collar around his neck. He recognized the strange fluttering in his right temple as an electric shock... It left the right side of his neck and face numb, and him feeling light-headed. His left foot had also jerked and fluttered as the electricity grounded.
"Just a gentle shock to remind you to be good for your new family."
The cougar turned to face the couple and smiled.
"Of course, you get to keep all the things he's wearing at the moment. We can't have a little kid running around in public with no restraints."
"That's very nice of you," the female wolf smiled. Evidently unperturbed by her new "son" being shocked by the good doctor.
"It isn't a very advanced system anyway. Quite rudimentary. You'll probably want to upgrade it. It's only special feature is the built in shocker. This pole is quite nice, though... It increases in length telescopically, like this..."
Brendon felt pressure on the back of his collar. Apparently the doctor had somehow increased the length of the "handle" he'd attached, and now it was something of a rigid "leash".
"You can also administer shocks remotely - without the pole being attached. If you're sure you want him, we can go through to my office and sort out the papers now. It won't take long."
Brendon was forced out of his cell, and down brightly-coloured institutional corridors. The good doctor was pushing him along in front of him with the stiff metal pole attached to his collar. They weren't going fast - the doctor and wolves were strolling along casually behind him. However, the short chain hobbling Brendon's ankles together forced him to shuffle quickly to avoid being pushed off balance by the pole. Walking was much more of an effort than it usually was.
The corridor they travelled was coloured identically to Brendon's cell - horrible orange and yellow. Green doors punctuated the chipped yellow paint of the walls on either side. Dozens of them. They were plain green, except for small white numbers. All appeared to be locked, and they passed only one person on their silent journey - a fox dressed the same way as the good doctor. He smiled and nodded to the cougar as they passed him, but said nothing.
On the way to the doctor's office, they passed through what was clearly his examination room, complete with examination bed, instruments, anatomical posters, and a large mirror on one wall. Brendon caught a glimpse of himself in this mirror, and his breath caught in his throat. As he'd guessed, his hands were bound tightly under his chin by the same stiff collar contraption which held his head immobile - the pole held by the doctor jutted rigidly from the back of this collar. The gag in his mouth was a black plastic thing held tightly in place by a strap. Much more alarmingly, he was, in fact, totally nude but for what clearly was a large white diaper. Good grief. What god had he pissed off to invoke this peculiar punishment?
Otherwise, he appeared as he should... He had been born a white male cat, but had recently used semi-permanent die to turn himself an unusual sky-blue colour. It was fashionable in whatever world he'd gone to sleep in, but he had no idea about the strange universe he now found himself trapped in. Otherwise, he had fairly long, jet-black headfur which was messy, as usual. He was slim - almost skinny - and of average height for his age, which was 18... Despite what these lunatics seemed to think. His eyes were green, and they looked damn sorry for himself at that moment. They were also wide with fear.
He was left to stand alone in the doctor's non-descript and somewhat decrepit office while the cougar produced forms for his new "parents" to sign. The rigid pole leash pulled back on his collar uncomfortably as it bent towards the ground. Escape crossed his mind, but he was totally helpless and incapable of doing more than a hasty shuffle, so he dismissed the notion reluctantly.
After the brief paperwork, there were congratulations and thanks all around.
"For now, feed him that formula I recommended. A bottle three times daily. Maybe some juice when he's good, but nothing too acidic. We'll see if he can move onto mushy food when you bring him back in four weeks' time for his vaccinations..."
His new "parents" led him out of the building, with his "dad" pushing him along with the pole as the doctor had. They walked through a medium-sized lobby, and Brendon caught a brief glimpse of a fox - about the same age as he was - trussed up and gagged exactly the same way, with a diaper to boot. He was waiting together with an older female fox who was apparently trying to get him to drink from a baby's bottle...
"Come on shnukums, you'll feel better if you have your bottle... You know you will."
The fox was having none of it. He was crying - snivelling pathetically through his plastic gag and grunting vehemently - trying to avoid the approaching bottle. The scene disturbed Brendon profoundly, and his heart pounded in his chest. What the fuck? This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. Someone had finally convinced him to take acid, and he was tripping on some really bad shit. That must be it.
He was pushed out of automatically-opening glass doors and into bright sunlight. He could see trees, a small car park and a road beyond. In suburbia somewhere... He didn't recognize anything. The accursed collar around his neck prevented him from seeing anything other than what was in front of him.
Hot tarmac hurt his feet as he shuffled over it. He moaned unconsciously into his gag.
"Don't worry, Brendon, we'll be home soon and then you can take a nap."
His adoptive mother. Brendon tried to convince himself that he was buying time until he could escape - or until whatever drugs he was on wore off. Whichever came first.
The wolves' car was a generic European hatchback. His new mom opened a rear passenger door to reveal what looked like a normal baby's car-seat, except that it was bigger and stronger - robust enough to accommodate Brendon. He was more or less totally immobilized after being strapped in.
The car journey to wherever these crazy people lived was short - through quiet suburbia. Brendon couldn't turn his head to look out the window very well, but he saw one or two things which disturbed him even more than he already was. For example, he caught a glimpse of a road-sign which declared "CHILDREN CROSSING", with a silhouette of a person who appeared to be restrained.
"I can't wait to change my baby's diaper and install his first bum-plug."
Brendon whimpered quietly to himself.
The home the car stopped at was generically suburban, as far as Brendon could ascertain. Non-descript. One of those houses on a very quiet suburban street where they all looked the same. Not too big. Not too small. Postage stamp. Brendon could hear sprinklers watering green front lawns, and a lawn mower grumbling somewhere far away. He didn't recognize the neighbourhood specifically, and didn't even know if he was still in the DC area... He supposed some parts of Arlington looked a bit like this, but right then his exact location didn't seem terribly important. What disturbed him to his core was the fact that he wasn't being raped in some basement god-knows-where, but that his bizarre state of affairs seemed to be public and... normal, where ever he was. As much as he tried to convince himself that he was dreaming or hallucinating, he felt disturbingly lucid.
The inside of the house was also generic. Sitting room. Kitchen. There were stairs, but he wasn't led up them... He realised that his feet would have been too closely hobbled together to let him climb them anyway. Instead, he was led down a short passage and into what was apparently going to be his "nursery".
The walls of his nursery were wallpapered - a gay yellow colour decorated with alternating happy, smiling duck chicks and cartoonish cows. A mobile of colourful biplanes and triplanes hovered over what was apparently supposed to be his bed - a large cot with metal bars painting brightly in alternating red and blue. It was bigger than your traditional baby's cot, and the bars extended over the top as well as the sides. Brendon guessed you could probably lock it.
Aside from a bright blue bookcase, a wardrobe and a few colourful plastic chairs, the only other furniture in the room was what appeared to be a large raised table, of sorts, with a hard, clear plastic dome covering it. Its surface was home to some thick leather straps. It looked like a giant incubator of sorts. Brendon didn't permit himself to speculate further as to what it might have been - no doubt just a further diabolical invention of his tortured subconscious.
"Time to change your diaper!"
He was led over to the giant incubator. His new mother unlatched its big plastic lid and opened it. Without the lid, Brendon saw that it was just a big table with straps attached to restrain someone lying down upon it - him, no doubt. He had no idea what the lid was for.
He felt his new father shorten his pole-leash back to its original length.
"Be good and don't fidget while daddy unties you."
This was it. His wrists and ankles were going to be untied so that they could be strapped to the table. If he was going to escape from these crazies, it was going to be then.
The male wolf bent down and removed Brendon's shackles. Brendon didn't move, but to widen his feet slightly. He was waiting for his wrist's to be unclamped from under his chin. The wolf turned a dial on the back of his collar and the wrist restraints opened. Brendon let his free hands fall slowly to his sides and took a deep breath.
"MMMMMM!"
Screaming with rage through his plastic gag, he tried to punch the male wolf in the stomach. Brendon was no expert in close combat, but he thought that if he could stagger the old wolf, he could run out of the room and find something hard - like a frying pan - to use as a weapon against these two psychopaths.
His punch was too low, and it hit the wolf heavily in the thigh. The angle made his wrist bend painfully into a sprain. The wolf cried out in surprise, but it did him little harm. He slapped Brendon hard across the face and quickly grabbed the handle attached to the back of his collar. He must have depressed whatever button was there to administer electric shocks, because sharp jarring pain coursed across Brendon's face and into his temple. He jittered and collapsed to the ground stunned. The shock had paralyzed him like a tazer, and his senses were temporarily screwed.
"Naughty, bad boy! I should shock you again!"
"Honey, don't," his wife implored pathetically.
"He doesn't know how to behave. He's scared, and he's probably tired. You know how kids are when they're tired. Let's just change his diaper, and then we can put him into the incubator for an hour or two. That will calm him down."
So it really was an incubator. Brendon couldn't move very well after that shock, and so his adoptive wolf father manhandled him onto it. He was turned over onto his front, and his wrists were strapped to the table on either side of his head. He felt further straps go around his legs just below his knees, and around his ankles. He was strapped to the table face-down, his ass in the air and his nose pressing painfully against its surface.
Brendon felt hands undoing the Velcro fastenings for his diaper and he groaned softly into his gag. He didn't want to be stripped naked with his little ass in the air, but he had little choice in the matter.
"Good thing we're changing you. Silly boy just wet his diaper now!"
Brendon hadn't noticed, but he guessed that shock had made his bladder release. He felt wetness for the first time as a light breeze cooled his private parts when his "mother" removed the diaper.
"Now baby gets his first butt-plug!"
Brendon felt a cold, lubricated finger probe his naked anus, and a hand roughly grab the base of his feline tail and hold it out of the way. He gasped wetly into his gag and began to cry. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.
"Aaw, shh. It's okay, little bear. Mommy's not going to hurt you. This won't be sore, I promise."
Brendon didn't stop crying. He felt his "mother's" thick clawed finger rub copious quantities of cold lubricant around his anus, and then he felt her push something hard against it. It felt like a dildo. She shoved it in slowly, twisting it to ease it's passing. Brendon groaned as it slipped slimily into his rectum. Once in, he felt his "mother" turn some sort of screw on it and, much to his alarm, it began to expand inside him slowly. It filled his rectum, and just before it would have become injurious, it stopped. Now it was jammed firmly into his backside - swollen painfully inside him. It could not be removed unless it was first deflated by turning a key, which his "mother" removed from it.
His hindquarter was sprinkled with sweet-smelling baby powder, and a new diaper was placed over the huge plug in his ass. (He assumed quietly to himself that his diaper was only for capturing urine.) He was unstrapped, but did not attempt any futile resistance. He let his "father" turn him over so that he was lying flat on his back. His wrists were again strapped tightly to the table on either side of his head, and further straps were placed over his thighs and ankles.
"There's a good little boy. You can relax now in the incubator for a bit. Mommy will be back later to feed you."
They closed the clear plastic lid of the device he was lying on, and he was totally sealed off from the outside world. The thick, clear plastic was almost sound-proof. His mother pressed some switches on a keypad attached to the strange incubator, and then she disappeared with his father. Brendon was alone again.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Brendon sighed to himself, and he was almost about to begin quietly contemplating his situation when he felt a strong pulse from the huge thing jammed in his ass. It jerked quickly against his prostate, and made him gasp with surprise. Oh god. Was it going to keep doing this?
It was. It pulsed again, and then more regularly - winding itself up into a heartrate-like beat. Each time it pulsed like an oversized cellphone, he jerked slightly in his bonds and grunted into his gag. It wasn't painful... It was just a somewhat less-than-gentle throb against his prostate.
He began to feel greater anxiety as it continued to throb. It didn't maintain a regular rhythm - it would slow and hasten apparently at random - not allowing him to fall into the lull of a steady, predictable rhythm. Another disturbing development was that it was getting warmer in the incubator. It felt like, well... An incubator.
The temperature increased to unpleasant levels, and the beat in his ass was incessant. Brendon began to cry again, and he moaned into his gag. Tears ran down his face as he jerked from the vibration deep inside him. Oh god. Why? Why was this happening to him.
Much to his dismay, he felt his dick begin to get hard inside his thick diaper. The irregular rhythm inside him exciting his prostate against his own will. He wished it would stop. He prayed it would stop. He begged it to stop - crying into his plastic gag. But it didn't.
Meanwhile, the temperature was increasing. It must have been over 110 degrees... Brendon felt like he was in an oven.
Eventually he climaxed into his diaper - thrusting uselessly into the air as his seed was spent into soft cotton wool. He cried harder. He panted into the heat. The incessant throb would not stop. It did not go away. Oh god. What kind of hell had he been condemned to?