Shipped Away

This is based on an old short story, available here, which I always thought made for a pretty interesting plot.

Usual themes for my stuff - forced diapering, adult baby play, unfair endings likely.

---

Shipped Away
by AusDpr
Part 1 - The Writer

Clara dragged herself into her bedroom, exhausted after a long day at work. Groaning with dramatic flair, she kicked her heels against the wall and collapsed face first onto her bed.

After a moment she sighed and rolled onto her back, realising that she couldn't just fall asleep there, not still dressed as she was. It was dark out, but at least it was Friday she realised, and the thought gave her new energy as she smiled and sat back up. Loosening her tight pencil skirt and blouse, she sloppily made her way over to her computer, and collapsed into the chair in front of her desk.

She stared at her blank monitor for a long moment, before realising that she already knew exactly what she wanted to do. Within moments she had opened several browser tabs for her favourite fetish sites, and took a deep breath in anticipation. She was home alone, and nobody would interrupt her, but it always gave her a chill to access content so blatantly perverted, and she glanced around her room to make sure that all her curtains were definitely closed, that her door hadn't magically swung open.

She noticed one site which was being advertised as having been updated, a particularly perverted goldmine which rarely updated. She bit her lower lip and realised that she was smiling, she already knew that she would love whatever their new stuff was. Reaching for the water bottle which she kept on her desk, she began taking long sips out of habit as the page loaded.

A splash screen appeared and welcomed her back, addressing her by her login name which she used around the community. She wondered when they had added that or when she even had logged into that site, but shrugged it off as a gallery of thumbnails appeared before her. Her heart beat faster as she wore a subtle grin, as pictures of women in dark fetishtic scenarios lined her screen.

There was one of a girl yelling furiously as she lay naked draped across the knee of a larger woman in nanny attire, who was spanking her mercilessly - currently mid swing. The girl's bottom was glowing red, and she looked equal parts furious and helpless. They always managed such perfectly crafted scenes, thought Clara with her small grin.

In the next picture the same girl sat on a floor, surrounded by toys, naked except for what anybody would instantly recognise as a giant oversized baby diaper. Yellow and Pink frilled underwear covered the bulge around her intimates, and she sat with her arms folded covering her breasts in what looked like a perfect child's pout.

Clara was a little jealous, but it was all fictional, and she knew that she'd never want her liberty actually taken away and forced to act like a baby full-time like that - but still, the fantasy gnawed at her.

In another, a woman was on all fours, crawling up carpeted stairs in a sagging diaper, seemingly in search of somebody who would change her. The next picture had two girls blushing as they lay on their backs with their knees pulled above their chests, matching pink and yellow dresses flipped up, while a larger woman worked at their changing table to remove their soiled underthings. Both sucked on pacifiers while blushing beet red, seemingly trying to look anywhere but at each other or the woman changing their diaper, while an almost full diaper pail next to the table showed that this definitely wasn't the first change which had been done there lately.

Clara shook her head in amazement, wishing that they would put out content more frequently - they were definitely some of the best around. The scenes look so real, the embarrassment so real.

Her moment was interrupted when a chat popup window emerged from the lower right of the screen. Clara felt some tiredness creep back in, and noted with annoyance that they'd added one of those invasive chat bars. It was from somebody called "Admin" she realised, which piqued her interest. All it said however was "Fancy seeing you here.", which was rather boring, and Clara was in no mood to be chatting to anybody just then.

"Yeah.." she replied, "I was just heading off.", while she looked for a way to go into an offline mode with the chat.

"Before you go -" came a quick reply, "Do you have any suggestions for our site? We're pretty big fans of your dark stories here, we've recently thought about incorporating some of your scenes."

Clara stopped, realising that this could be interesting, though was throwing off her rhythm. She did indeed write some fairly twisted fetish stories, and knew that she had a few fans, but was a little surprised by such an offer out of the blue.


"Oh?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Indeed" replied 'Admin', "You've written some fantastic fetishtic stuff - you have a very dirty mind."

Clara stared, unsure how to take it, when 'Admin' continued.

"For example," said the mysterious stranger, "We liked your stories about older women being babysat by stern teens who take complete authority - we've wanted to bring in some teen sitters, 18 year olds in school uniforms for example, to babysit our older girls, ordering them over for a diaper inspection, etcetera. We think that it'd be pretty hot."

"That does sound pretty good..." Clara replied, before realising that she sounded like a bedazzled simpleton. "Maybe you could do a few things like overnight naps in really messy diapers? Stuff like that too."

"Oh yes, we've done some of that internally," came the reply, "Though none of it has made it to the web so far."

Clara was a little surprised, it sounded like amazing content, and she wondered why they would be making such scenes which they didn't publish.

Clara was getting drowsy, and while she enjoyed the idea of getting to direct a little of the content, she also wished that she could have this conversation some other time when she was more awake.

The user called Admin broke the silence again. "How about a scene where a nerdy author of fetish stories gets forced into diapers? A little retribution for all that she's done to her characters."

Clara thought about it, and it didn't appeal to her for some reason - it was a little close to home. "I'm not sure," she replied, "you mean somebody like me?"

"Oh yes, you could do it. We had you in mind."

She blushed. "I um don't model." Clara replied, a little taken aback by the sudden offer. "It's just a fun fantasy, but I could never have my face on the web or anything, nothing like that"

"Oh it wouldn't be a willing scenario" Admin responded, "It wouldn't really work if it was." "No, we'd come get you."

She stared at the words, then rolled her eyes - was he roleplaying with her?

"Oh yeah?" she asked, "and what would you do?"

"You'd be put into the training program, along with another regular batch of girls, forced to become a full time baby like any of of the others.

Clara had to admit that the roleplay was kind of intriguing, but she wished she knew whether the earlier part about filming parts from her stories was still true or just part of the game. She waited for a moment, before responding. "You'd have to find where I live first."

"Oh we'd have tracked you down months before our move, waiting for when we decided that we were bored of your stories, and wanted you for the larger permanent step of our plan."

Clara was unsure what she was supposed to say at this point, and just let Admin continue. She was getting so tired.

"We'd plant webcams in your room. Analyse you naked and prepare everything for your measurements." the pervert said, but the idea tickled Clara.


"We'd even lace your water bottle on your desk, with a sleeping drug which would kick in when your heart rate increased."

Clara froze - how the hell did they know about her water bottle on her desk? Did she mention that in one of her stories? She must have, she decided, but still, she was suddenly wondering and a little nervous...

"And then after your long training we'd sell you to one of our richer clients - you'd be a very lucrative slave to own after all. We'd probably aim to put you with a particularly abusive mother type, to who you'd have to beg to get your diaper changed. You'd like that, wouldn't you Clara?"

At the mention of her name, her stomach leaped into her chest, or so it felt. Looking frantically around her room, she wondered whether somebody was messing with her - Surely they must have taken her name from some site sign up or IP record or such. She lifted the corner of her curtain, and saw for a second time the ominous removal truck which was silently parked outside of her house, which she now remembered seeing when she arrived - the truck seemingly doing nothing.

Still unsure whether it was a dream, she turned frantically looking for her phone - she wanted it on hand all the same right now in her sudden panic. But as her anxiety increased, she found herself getting drowsy. So drowsy. She let out several slurred cusses as she fell to her knees, and then was on her all fours, before laying down face first on the floor - falling into a deep welcoming slumber.


Part 2 - The Journey

Clara woke from a dreamless sleep. She was vaguely aware that she was swaying, ever so gently, but couldn't make sense of much.

She began to recognise that she was in near-darkness, but was sitting. Only a dim light emanated from a glow worm which lay beside her - a plastic toy perhaps.

Her head cleared suddenly and she realised that she was in a box - a large wooden box - and that she was half-sitting, half-laying, in a backwards-leaning bouncer seat. Her last moments at home before passing out came rushing back in a panic, and terrified, she began to struggle. Two straps went over each of her shoulders and arrived at her crotch, where they joined a buckle, which pulled a third strap up taut between her legs - over her enormous diaper, she realised, almost fainting. Her hands went instantly to the buckle over her padded crotch, but she discovered that they were in mittens which rendered them useless, and she could make out a small padlock on the buckle over her crotch anyway.

She was largely helpless as she lay there on her back, thickly diapered and bouncing slightly in the springy chair, realising that it was all really happening to her. A flannel onesie ran from short sleeves to a one piece catch over her diaper, her bare thighs and legs naked until the thick booties at her feet. She moaned, realising that she was unable to speak, and that a ring gag held her mouth open by her teeth, which had her drooling slightly. A few wild calls for help came out as muffled shrilled nonsense, and she already knew that nobody could hear her anyway.

Still struggling in futility, and hating herself for being just that little bit aroused - as her diaper, easily 5 or 6 layers thick with some soaker pads to boot, was pulled tightly against her privates, the taut third strap between her legs taking most of her body weight and transferring into her crotch. Futile kicks against the air in front of her achieved nothing, and she lay back panting, still thoroughly strapped into her seat.

Above her, hoses at the edge of the box hissed with air, and she realised that she was in an otherwise sealed container. Her eyes continued to adjust, and she noticed that to her right sat several comically oversized baby bottles, seemingly filled with water, and to her left were strewn various childish toys - a spring centipede, an animal noises machine, a rattle, a tambourine, and a potty training book.

She drooled helplessly and made another attempt at calling for help before giving up, hating how stupid she sounded. From far away she could hear the distant muffled sound of heavy machinery and surf. She was at sea, she realised, as her world continued to sway in various directions ever so slightly.

She was stuck, with no chance of getting herself out of the spring chair. After a time she cried, before finally deciding that that wasn't helping either.

Hours later, squirming on her thickly padded rump, she turned to take one of the giant baby bottles which sat alongside her. With her padded mittens she couldn't remove the lid of the bottle, despite her best efforts. She couldn't even bring her thighs together to hold the thing, she discovered, as the humiliating padding between her legs was just too thick - like a sandbag waiting for her to embarrass herself into. She took the nipple to her mouth and clumsily suckled, despite the ring gag holding her teeth apart, crying again after she finished, knowing what a stupid oversized baby she must have looked like.

She had no sense of time in her box, and didn't know when days began and ended, or how long she slept. The rocking of the seemingly giant cargo ship kept her constantly teased by the taut strap below, and she still refused to think about the part of herself that enjoyed it. It was just too humiliating to admit, and she was otherwise genuinely scared.

What could have been days passed, and she had to wet herself eventually. Despite her long struggle to hold out, the rocking of the ship got to her - along with the distant sound of surf, and the thirsty sand bag between her legs, which all conspired to have her humiliate herself thoroughly.


She cried herself to exhaustion for a time, but then lost control with a trickle, and then a flood. The diapers were thick, and happily took the heavy wetting, and she found herself desperately hoping that her captors had at least oiled her well down there, or else she might be in for a hell of a rash if she stayed here for much longer. The thought struck her with the sudden realisation that they must have touched her quite thoroughly down there, which made her blush anew with humiliation.

Still time went on, and in the dim light of her glow worm she took to poking at the childish toys, unsure what else she could really do with herself, bound in her chair and wet diaper as she was. She's hold the centipede toy and watch how it stretched under gravity and swayed against the movement of the ship, toyed with the animal noises board a few times, just to hear the deep mooing of cows, and even bounced the rattle against the thick bulge of her crotch a few times, tempted to masturbate, but too embarrassed to go through with it, considering her larger situation. Again she wet, and eventually with much despair, soiled herself. Clara soon found herself sitting in a thoroughly used diaper, staring helplessly at the roof, while drooling in silence from her gagged gaping mouth.

It could have been a week, or a month, for all she knew, but one day the ship came to an obvious final stop. The box shuddered as it was moved several times to various new spots, during which she tried to make a few pleaful attempts at calls for help to the outside world, but knew that nobody could hear her. Her box finally came to rest somewhere quiet and still, and she waited. Again she cried, dry snot caking her face, but tears wouldn't and couldn't help her, she knew, sniffling away like a helpless toddler.

Then quite unexpectedly, the tubes which had fed air into her container popped from one side, and an edge of the box was removed. Light appeared as the edge of the shipping container was pulled away, and Clara blinked against the sudden bright outside world, having to turn her head away. Kicking the air again and struggling against her bonds in her thick and soiled diapers, she moaned helplessly through her gag, hoping that it was, by some miracle, that somebody had come to rescue her, and not the more likely option of whoever had put her in the box was now there to claim her.

Pressure appeared on her crotch, and suddenly the tight straps relaxed as the buckle unclicked. The chair was tipped and she fell forward, still squinting with the new light, and something was attached from the rear waist of her onesie to the ankles of her booties, pulling tight and forcing her into a crawl position.

She turned desperate eyes against the light, and saw legs ending in army-like boots, which then stepped away, leaving her there on all fours in a heavily soiled diaper, drooling against her mouth ring, and squinting into the light. There were other noises, but they sounded distant outside of her box, and after a moment of recoiling away from the bright exit, she decided that all she wanted just then was a desperately needed diaper change.

She crawled weakly out of the box, arriving on concrete and feeling too exhausted to even look up, realising that she was in some sort of large shed or warehouse. Through the mess of her hair, she saw heels which led to a woman's legs above that. The feet turned and faced her, and then the legs crouched, bringing a striking regal middle-aged brunette into her vision, who looked at her without pity, and even a little contempt. After a moment of inspecting her, the woman slapped Clara on the face, lightly, and pointed behind her, simply ordering "crawl".

Clara moved one knee forward nervously, then stopped, unsure whether she wanted to obey this woman, but then let out a muffled yelp and moan as a huge paddle landed on her padded rear with a loud smack, also catching a bit of her exposed thigh.

"Crawl." repeated the woman's commanding voice.

With wide eyes, Clara began to crawl forward in a frenzy, slowing after a moment with small tears in her vision. It was then that she noticed the other opened shipping boxes.

Two more women were on all fours, thickly diapered and drooling from beneath the mess of their hair. One, a redhead, with the shredded remains of a small sexy dress, had a huge diapered butt in the air, and was panting while staring at the ground in exhaustion. The other, a brunette in the shredded remains of a powerful looking business suit, crawled slowly and seemed to be trying to say something to the man who watched over her. The men in heavy boots and army pants - possibly a militia, thought Clara - herded them into single file, and they soon were crawling purposefully towards the far wall.

Clara came second in their line. In front of her, the redhead had obviously soiled herself terribly, Clara saw with disgust. Her exposed diaper sagged around the girl's butt, and was visibly darker there too. She must have needed to go badly, even before the trip, Clara realised, and had stood no chance of making the journey unmessed. She knew that the third girl behind her must be getting a full view of her diapered rear too, but at least she had the onesie on to give her some privacy, but guessed that the stench was probably a telltale sign in itself.

The regal woman also noticed the redhead's soiled state, and halted the line by touching the girl's back. Reaching around to cup the girl's sagging diaper, she cooed to the shackled woman, with words which were inaudible or may have even been in another language for all that Clara could tell, while the wide-eyed redhead looked up in a fearful state. After a moment of sweet cooing and gentle stroking of the girl's face, the woman's demeanour suddenly hardened, and she delivered a stinging smack to the girl's bottom which got the line moving again.

As they began shuffling with the loud crinkling sounds of their diapers, Clara drooled while wondering whether this could truly be real, whether it was some joke or whether was her life now. She knew that it was the second, she suddenly knew where that fantastic site got all of its models, and why their twisted diaper training scenes look so realistic.

She was really going to go into a nightmareish diaper-slave program, likely to then be sold to domineering "parents" who would truly own her, like an oversized toddler pet.

They reached the wall, all struggling to look around now - bound as they were on all fours - and each clumsily turned so that their butts faced the wall, and they looked out into the warehouse. Clara got a good look at her surroundings then, and could see the three opened shipping crates - each with the oversized toddler bouncers in them, with bottles and toys laying vaguely visible in the deep shadows. Two men in militia like gear stood ready, looking entirely unfriendly, and the scowling woman in black had a large paddle attached to her belt.

"Sit" she ordered, glaring, and the girls looked side to side at each other in a panic, then moaned as they lowered their rears and privates to the concrete, now kneeling in their mess, with their hands still on the concrete.

The woman approached with a small doctor's instrument, and shone light into their mouths, ears, and eyes, and investigated each of them, while the girls sat on all fours and drooled hopelessly under the embarrassing investigation, almost as if they were pet merchandise.

When satisfied, the woman pointed further down the empty warehouse, and again ordered "crawl."

Exhausted, they made their way, until they reached a waiting van which had its windows covered and its side door pulled open. One by one the girls let out small moans as their ankles were unbuckled from their waists, and they were led into the van where oversized baby seats awaited them. Each was strapped in tightly with no chance of escape - pressed well into their soiled diapers - and they watched wide eyed as the door was closed, taking them to their fate.

They sat facing the back of the van, the brunette moaning slightly and seemingly wetting herself yet again with a loud audible hiss. The vehicle began moving, and Clara sunk back into her seat and looked at the roof in resignation, listening to the third girl attempt to make some sort of request around her ringed gag, which made it all but impossible to vocalise anything useful.

The regal trainer woman took out a container, from which she produced three large needles, of which she began flicking their sides. "You are each going to learn to be the most obedient baby girls" was all that she said, before injecting the contents of the needles into their thighs, and one by one they drifted into another deep slumber.


Part 3 - Training

Clara awoke from another dreamless sleep. She was initially unsure of where she was, when somebody stirred beside her. With a start she realised that she was in a tall white crib, sleeping besides the naked forms of the other two women from the warehouse. Still gagged with the frustrating ring piece, she looked at herself and her crib partners in a panic. They were all naked, except for thick towelled diapers under translucent plastic pants, hand mittens, and the ring gags in their mouths, all pressed up against each other in a sleeping huddle. They each seemed to be waking at the same time, and were situated near the middle of an unexciting carpeted room with large high windows, and various cupboards and drawers lining the walls.

They were at least clean, Clara realised, nauseated at the knowledge that she had again been naked and thoroughly touched by the intruders while so. Their combined weight in the crib served to sink the mattress into a central dip which they now found themselves struggling to back out of and untangle themselves. None were enthusiastic to be pressed up against other's naked forms. It proved to be hopeless, and Clara took a slight blow to her stomach, while she found herself pressed up against somebody's bare breasts

They had almost untangled on the slippery plastic-covered mattress, when a door opened, and a flurry of women in nurse-nanny uniforms entered the room. Three women carried a short white babydoll sundress each, and Clara moaned knowing that she was in for training the same as all the others, despite well having written this scene herself. She was no more enthusiastic for it now that it had arrived, though still found herself a little horny, and could do nothing as the side of the crib was lowered and each of the mortified girls was removed from the crib by a large trainer.

The girls were dressed, moaning and glancing about with wide-eyed pleadings, and then sat in the laps of a nanny each, where they were given bottles of a warm milky substance. They were each fed by the loving woman who rocked them in her lap, each quite sure that she was going to die from embarrassment. They were burped, had their diapers checked, and were introduced to a world of toys, spankings, highchairs, bottles, crawling, and fulltime diapers - a life which quickly defeated each of them.

--

Three weeks later, Clara stood against the wall of the nursery room which she had not yet left since arriving, her bottom aglow after a recent spanking, and her diaper around her ankles. The other two girls - who's names she still didn't know, as none of them could speak - were playing obediently on the floor behind her. The suckles of their pacifiers echoed in unison around the room, which had large enough nipples to fill their mouths and fit quite snugly despite the ring gags, which remained.

Clara herself just drooled, not missing her pacifier now that she was against the wall, but willed herself to stand there in complete obedient silence, as to not risk another enema. The girls behind her were sulking, all three of them always were, but not wanting spankings of their own, they played unenthusiastically, making small notes on a xylophone and with a shakeable rattle.

Finally the nanny nurse who had scolded Clara returned, pulling the shorter girl into a hug which buried her in the woman's large breasts. She cooed and forgave Clara for her earlier disobedience in the highchair, where she had thrown her bowl of food against the wall in a sudden fit of exhausted rage. Clara sniffed as the woman hugged her, before finally being released from the warm envelopment of the woman's bosom.

She allowed herself to be rediapered, and was ready to play obediently with the others. But instead of being set on the floor, she was put into the crib for an early bedtime. She knew not to moan or beg, but looked up sheepishly at the nanny, hoping that she would somehow change her mind - the sun was still up after all. Alas she was left there, forced to watch her partners play with their toys, a small bit of freedom which now seemed enviable. Clara learned not to throw her food from her highchair.

--

At the end of the fourth week, after an enema, temperature taking, and bath, the three girls were finally led from the small nursery room which had been their life since arriving at the docks - wherever they were in the world. Blushing, they passed staff who they'd never seen, and waddled while in the grip of the hands of the nurse-nannies, finally stepping into a side office which looked like a minimal doctor's inspection room.

The stern woman, who they hadn't seen since their time at the warehouse, appeared, and each girl went weak at the knees, knowing that she emanated raw administrative power. Even the third woman in their group, the brunette, who had initially been a force of indignant pride and rage to be reckoned with, now stood meekly with the other two, eyes down and giving a small curtsey to the woman, revealing her pink princess pullup which they had miraculously been allowed to wear.

The regal woman seemed pleased - in that, she didn't immediately frown, but certainly didn't smile - and circled each of them several times, looking them up and down, grabbing their diapered crotches to see how they would react, and generally treating them either like stock or naughty children who had been well reprimanded.

For their part, Clara and her two companions stood silently with their hands on their heads, trying not to even breath too loudly in the presence of this frightening woman. Finally the woman stopped behind the brunette, and began undoing the poor girl's mouth gag, which had been there for over a month.

The brunette's shock was palpable, with the first time that she'd been able to move her jaw in weeks obviously coming as a long forgotten and difficult to control sensation.

The administrator circled the perky brunette, and took the weak-willed girl's chin in her hand.

"You gave us some trouble there, didn't you, but I think that we've tamed you - like so many strong-willed ones before you." She looked at the slave, as if still somewhat unimpressed, and then smirked, ordering "Kiss my feet."

The brunette grimaced, looked worried, but then awkwardly lowered herself to her hands and knees - thankfully only in the light pullup today - and with her butt in the air, she kissed the woman's feet.

The woman nodded in approval, while watching the grovelling form in front of her. "Good. Your group has passed the initiation stage." she said, as if they had any idea what that was. "You will each be advanced to the nursery proper now."

Clara and the redhead exchanged sidelong glances, hands still on their head and mouths still gaping from their gags, each with a hint of fear in their eyes.

The regal woman circled them, and removed both of their mouth rings as well, much to the sudden relief of Clara, who felt like she'd never closed her mouth in her life.

She was licking her lips in amazement, and so distracted that she didn't even notice that the regal woman had moved in front of her, and was standing there, expectantly waiting.

"Look at me when I am in your presence" the woman barked, causing Clara to jump. The woman smiled as Clara sheepishly met her gaze - quite sure that the woman could dole out something far worse than any of the combined spankings or enemas or early bed times of the past four weeks combined.

Grinning sadistically, the taller woman looked down her nose at the weakling diapered form of Clara, seemed to be happy with what she saw, and instructed "Thank me for turning you into a proper baby girl."

Clara could have fainted. She was already humiliated beyond all measures that she imagined, but still would prefer that the others never know about her past wishes and cravings for such treatments - she would take it all back now if she could. The mistress hadn't revealed it yet, but Clara knew that she was supposed to thank her for fulfilling her twisted submission fantasies.

"Say it." growled the regal woman, as Clara stood paralysed.

She found it hard to speak, and required a few murmuring false starts, but finally managed to croak out "Thank you for making me into a proper baby girl, mistress..."

The woman smiled her sadistic smile again, and kissed Clara once on the lips, before opening the office door and allowing the nanny-nurses to come fetch their defeated charges. They were lead away, and Clara sobbed silently a little, feeling herself being led away by grownups, who were truly in charge, as a weak willed child hoping for a chance to escape into some quiet shadow somewhere, and be her own boss.
 
To be continued. 

Some various pictures from the training program, of girls unknown, though they may well be some of our protagonists.