Click.
That last padlock sounded loud, a vicious confirmation that I was now stuck here, unable to move about, arms held away from my body, the chains unbreakable, the leather cuffs comfortable but unrelenting, the diaper impossible to remove.
I knew I’d have to use it. I wanted to use it, but the timer was set for eight hours, four large glasses of water to wash down a tablespoon of castor oil meant I wouldn’t be able to wait that long, didn’t have a choice now anyway.
The timer ticked. The initial rush of adrenalin wore off. I realised I’d forgotten to put the TV on, couldn’t reach the remote. A cat came to sleep by my feet but I couldn’t stroke it, couldn’t play with it. I could just lie there, arms out, locked in place.
I got bored, tried to drift off to sleep, but my body wanted to curl up. Not possible, not for another… I’d forgotten to put a clock in sight, couldn’t see the timer, didn’t know when the key by my hand would release, would let me free myself.
I got very bored. My stomach gurgled. That distracted me, but not in a good way. Rapidly the gurgling became churning, a disquieting discomfort. I knew there was no point holding it so pushed, tried to gain some relief, but nothing happened.
Boredom joined by discomfort became pain and distress. I writhed on my bed, the cat getting annoyed and abandoning me, and eventually managed to convince my body to expel the torment.
It didn’t help. I was now bored and suffering discomfort, but I was uncomfortable outside now as well as in, an all round miserable situation.
My stomach continued to churn. I continued to try and seek relief. My diaper started to make wet noises as I writhed, my waste too solid to absorb, too liquid to stay in place, and that paused the boredom, replaced it with horniness.
I’d achieved my goal. Forced to soil myself, forced to wait to be changed, my desires irrelevant, stuck in a dirty diaper. I tugged at my restraints, tried to bring my hands closer, add touch to the sensations on my skin. It didn’t help, I’d planned them too well, been too effective.
So I lay there, aroused and unsatiated, uncomfortable and still suffering within, uncomfortable and now clearly smelly without, and boredom returned.
Time passed. More waste in my diaper but still no relief in my digestive system. The room now smelled rank, looking down I could see a revolting brown leak onto my bed, and I was getting thirsty, couldn’t get a drink. That ended my arousal but left me even more bored, now regretting my impetuous attempts to play.
I lay there, bored, uncomfortable, smelly, thirsty, regretful and still occasionally wracked by muscles tensing to try and purge, add to the sewer wrapped around me. It was then that I decided: Next time I’d definitely make sure the TV was on.