I couldn’t believe that my moment in court only took ten minutes. I’d been in custody, waiting for this day, for two weeks, and the whole thing was over in one horrible flash. Guilty on all charges for the theft of a very large sum of money from the firm where I worked. My ex-boss looked smug as they read out the final verdict and moved on to the sentencing.
I was numb and so wasn’t really listening as the sentence was being discussed. The Judge was saying something about a new offender’s program for first-time prisoners who hadn’t committed acts of violence, and, within a few minutes, my fate was sealed. I was declared a category 1 HumReg inmate with immediate effect. I had no idea what this was and was dragged from the courtroom and into a side area where the door connecting me to the rest of society was slammed resolutely shut.
The guards filled out some paperwork, undid the handcuffs, and asked me to strip out of my orange boiler suit. I stripped down to my tighty whiteys and looked around for whatever uniform they would provide, but this didn’t get a good reaction.
“Strip prisoner! Now!”
I took off the underwear and stood, covering my crotch, in front of the two men. I work out so I’m not shy about my body, but their gaze was intense; almost as if they were calculating something in their heads.
In the corner of the room was a shower stand, and I was led over and commanded to soap up and shower off. The squeezy bottle they gave me contained a thick, creamy shampoo and as I lathered up, the guards instructed me to avoid missing any areas. Where the product rested on my skin, I felt a tingling and was happy to step under the shower in order to rinse off, as I was worried that I was having an allergic reaction.
The water hit my head and something immediately felt wrong, but with my eyes shut against the spray, it took a moment to realise that my hair was being washed down my face. I rubbed my head under the water, and my hair came away with my hand, leaving me bald as a coot. I was in shock, holding on to tufts of my once proud mane and, as I looked down, I could see that all of my body hair was being rinsed off into the drain area.
“What the hell is this!?” I cried. The guards laughed, and one of them spoke,
“You’re a HumReg prisoner now, fella. Stands for humiliation and regression, and you are not going to have any fun on this programme. It always makes me laugh when you inmates get your first taste of this medicine”
The shower was turned off, and a towel was offered. As I dried myself, I realised my dick looked weird without any pubic hair and the coarse towel rubbed against my now-defenceless skin.
The guards then led me over to a large table and had me hop up onto my back. They then, to my horror, produced an adult diaper and started manhandling me into the huge, fluffy thing, diligently taping it up tightly. The mass of the diaper meant that I couldn’t properly close my legs, and I started to feel my butt and cock warm up – a strangely intense feeling without any hair.
“Stop! I don’t want this!” I pleaded. My request fell on deaf ears, and soon I was clothed in the crinkly padding. They then produced a pair of enormous transparent plastic underwear and slipped them on over the bulky item. There were belt loops in the transparent material, and a thick pink leather belt was fed through and fastened with a padlock so that getting them off would be impossible.
The men then moved on to my hands, and a pair of comical mitts was produced and fastened over my hands and buckled at the wrists. Again, a padlock ensured I wouldn’t be able to tamper with them. The mitts were soft and padded on the outside, but there was a solid piece to the garment that meant I couldn’t move my hands, and they lay flat within the shiny, pink, plastic gloves.
I was made to drink a bottle of water, but there was something off about the taste. Because of my position, I had no choice but to glug it back, and it was clear that they would have held my nose until I finished the damn thing.
One of the guards moved out of sight and then returned with a gag, and I recoiled violently but was unable to stop them holding me down and strapping the rubber ball into my mouth. I could no longer protest and couldn’t begin to process the situation in which I now found myself.
My final item of apparel was a white leather hood that they secured around my head and then tightened some straps in the back and at my neck. Frightened at first, I soon realised that there were tiny pinholes in the leather that allowed me to see, to some degree, as they prepared me for the next ordeal.
One of the guards left the room, and I could hear him moving something heavy that had at least one squeaky wheel. When he came back into my limited view, my heart froze in my chest. He was pushing a wooden pillory, twin vertical beams with horizontal stocks at ankle and head level. I panicked and lashed out to try and escape, but my predicament made resistance futile, and they manhandled me into the stocks, and I heard the click of further padlocks being applied. I was now trapped in a standing position with my head and hands through the top stock and my legs spread by the lower device.
The distance between the top stocks and the ankle restraints was a bit shorter than my own height, so I had to squat slightly. This fact upset me because it meant I was presenting my heavily padded butt more than I’d have liked. But then, none of this was good, and there was no way out of it.
They conferred for a few minutes, but it was quite hard to hear them under the leather hood. They then approached my helpless form and started wheeling me out of the room. There was literally nothing I could do about it as I was ceremoniously wheeled down a corridor and parked in the foyer of the large courthouse for all to see.
I drew an immediate crowd and was glad of the hood so that people couldn’t see my red face. They could take in everything else about my predicament, however, and the comments and laughter came thick and fast. I tried to scream for help, but any noises I made were just unintelligible grunts and groans to the audience I had amassed.
I flinched as someone swatted me on my butt and started to cry in shame as a young woman pointed and gestured at my huge diaper, laughing all the while, until her disgusted boyfriend dragged her away.
In spite of my bare torso, the padding and the hood meant I started to heat up, and sweat coursed down my hairless body. I was so uncomfortable but could do nothing to stop the torment as, all around me, people catcalled and jeered. My butt took a few more swats, and a guy stepped into my space and grabbed my crotch, squeezing my nuts through the plastic and padding while announcing that I wasn’t wet yet but that I probably soon would be.
My mind was reeling. Were they going to leave me here until I actually used the diaper? My current humiliation was appalling, but the thought of having to pee myself in front of all of these people was another level of abhorrent.
Again, I pleaded for help, but my grunts only provoked more laughter. I was truly in hell.
Time passed, and my position started to cause aches and pains in my thighs. The crowds came and went in front of me, always stopping to laugh and discuss my quandary. One guy even stepped up to me and playfully tweaked my left nipple before patting me on my crotch and sauntering away. My legs were shaking due to the awkward position I was in, and I shifted my body as much as I could in the stocks to get some relief.
I was contemplating how long this punishment would go on when I suddenly became aware that I needed to use the bathroom. The sensation came on really quickly and, to make matters worse, was a double urgency. My bladder felt suddenly, dangerously full, and my bowels seemed to go from nothing to horribly heavy in the space of minutes. I struggled against the creaking wood of the pillory, but there was no escape to be had. I became anxious and started shouting for the guards to come and get me, but no one was listening to the diapered convict on display, and about 50 people watched me as things went from bad to deplorable.
“Bees, epp meee!”
I could feel my urine starting to move down my tubes and tried to close my legs somewhat to squeeze them together and stop the flow. The thickness of the diaper made this all but impossible, but I was able to attract some increased attention from the crowd as I danced and squirmed in front of them. A couple of people had whipped out their phones and were filming my misery gleefully.
To make matters worse, my body decided that it needed to make room, and I started farting uncontrollably into the padding. All around me, the laughter and derision reached new heights as I fidgeted; my flatulence reverberating across the grand foyer. The weight of a huge bowel movement was pushing at my back door, and I was squatting like a toad trying to hold things in. By now, I was sweating like a pig, and I knew that, at any moment, I was likely to lose control and soil myself in front of all of these people. I could hear that there was quite a crowd behind me, commenting on my defenceless butt as I struggled to hold on.
“Bees epp meee! I goen poo myself!! Epp mee!”
A spurt of piss got away from me, and I knew that I was done for. The throng in front of me screamed in triumphant laughter as the white fabric started to stain yellow. At the same time, I unclenched my sphincter for a second, and a coil of poop flowed out into the diaper. This didn’t go unmissed, and I felt the fabric move and accommodate the load I had pushed into it.
Struggling between trying to hold my pee and my poop made life impossible. If I stopped bearing down for even a second on either function, I would lose control of the other. More pee sprayed into the diaper, and I grunted inan effort to try and stop myself and took my attention off my fight to hold my poop in. Another, really large, log forced its way out into the diaper, and the crowd went wild behind me.
My whole body was shaking from the effort of my exertions, and I could no longer even try to maintain a semblance of dignity. With a groan of disgusted relief, I let go of my fight to control my bowels and felt the warm mass surge out of my butt and crowd into the diaper. It just wasn’t stopping, and I could feel the crap pushing the diaper to its limits and squeezing into every crevice from just below my naked balls to up my butt crack towards my lower back. It came and it came; endless waves of poop stretching the diaper to new dimensions – all of which were narrated to me by the appalled yet fascinated crowd.
My bladder gave out completely at this point, and I gushed pee into the front of the hated garment, feeling the padding soak up the hot liquid and become heavier and heavier. Those in front of me were verbal in their appraisal of my rapidly yellowing diaper, and I felt the thing sag as the drenched padding shifted and moved. I was acutely aware that my pee was hitting my poop and mixing under my taint, but there was simply no way to stop either flo,w and my legs were pushed wider as the heavy material stretched to fill the gap in my thighs. Tears coursed down my face as I pushed out another enormous turd, complete with flatulent accompaniment.
Finally, the ordeal ended, and I stood, caked in my own filth, with my head hung low as my predicament was discussed with great mirth by those around me. The pressure of the contents on the diaper meant that I probably looked like I was wearing a balloon around my hips, and I knew, from the conversations around me, that there was no hiding my incontinence. A lot of the comments were about the dreadful staining of my previously white garment and the fetid stench emanating from my exhausted frame.
I remained like this, on soiled display, until it was closing time in the courthouse and I was unceremoniously wheeled off for my next ordeal.
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