Million Diaper Baby: Chapter 5

BEEP! BEEP! BEE- 

The world was still dark at 4:48 AM when Matthew’s wake-up alarm went off. His hand slapped the clock apathetically as he rolled to the other side of the bed with his comforter held tightly in his hands. Typically, he’d be on his way to the kitchen right now to cook a protein-heavy breakfast before jumping into his morning cardio routine. Needless to say, his motivation had taken a serious dip after six grueling days of near-constant humiliation. His only solace was knowing that today’s end would mark the conclusion of his indentured servitude to Amy, though he was far from celebrating. There was zero doubt in his mind that the vindictive she-devil had something awful up her sleeve. 

Squinting his eyes shut, Matthew attempted to will himself past REM sleep in hopes of nodding off until his 7 AM shower alarm went off. Tragically, his body had other plans as his rise in consciousness triggered his natural need to urinate. He staved off the sensation for as long as he could but save for wetting himself, he had no choice but to slump out of bed. 

Harsh, white lights strained Matthew’s vision as he entered his dingy apartment bathroom. Dropping his boxer briefs and squaring up to the toilet, he winced as his fingers traced the edges of the small, plastic chastity cage Amy had left him in since Tuesday. Piss dribbled through the tiny slit at the head of his cage, forcing him to lean over the toilet in an awkward position to keep himself from soaking the tile floor. He muttered several obscenities as he mopped up his chastity with wads of toilet paper and returned to his bed, praying that his morning wood, which had plagued him with genital discomfort for five straight sunrises, would be mercifully mild today. 

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“Let’s go! C’mon! Gimme one more and make it burn!” shouted Amy’s personal trainer encouragingly. Hovering over Amy and the 75-pound curl bar in her hands, he pushed her to power through the third and final set of overhead curls. 

Pinching the crotch of her diaper between her monstrous thighs, Amy growled like a wild animal as she slowly lowered the bar past the top of her head before returning to a neutral, straight-armed position at the same, agonizing speed. “GAHHHH!” she yelled, high-fiving her trainer as she relaxed her aching biceps. 

Rising from the slanted bench, a hyped-up Amy checked the clock on her way toward the water fountain. It was officially twenty minutes past 8 AM. “Tsk, tsk, Matti. How unbecoming of a prize fighter,” she teased her absent rival, having gotten far too comfortable referring to Matthew by his sissified name. 

“Get out of my way!” 

Speaking of the devil, Amy was still rehydrating when Matthew made his ostentatious entrance. The sissified boxer shoved past a crowd of snickering muscleheads, whose amusement had only grown over the subsequent week. As much as he despised his feminine attire, arriving properly dressed kept him from a mortifying trip to the male changing room. “Something fricking funny?!” he barked aggressively, silencing the hum of giggles that droned throughout the gymnasium. His situation may have been comical to the gym at large but everyone knew he’d be out from under Amy’s talons by tomorrow morning. 

“Goddess-damn. I wouldn’t want to be the next person stepping into the ring with him,” quipped Amy’s trainer, offering Amy a sweat towel to wipe off her face. 

Accepting the towel, Amy was perhaps the only person in the gym unphased by Matthew’s angry posturing. Her confidence had only inflated with each passing day as she reveled in keeping Matthew tied around her thumb. Where others saw a dangerous animal waiting to be unleashed, she saw a sniveling sissy pouting that, for once, things didn’t work out his way. “Hey, Matti!” she called out snidely, dampening the perceived fear that Matthew was imposing. Approaching her scowling friend with a graceful sneer, she tossed her used towel at Matthew’s chest. If anyone was going to be brave enough to tango with a raging bull, it was going to be her, “You seem tense. Why don’t we swap for today?” 

Gripping Amy’s towel so tightly that his knuckles cracked, Matthew chucked the white strip of cloth to the floor. The thought of re-entering the ring with Amy had certainly lingered on his mind since the embarrassing upset, and while it may have only been to spar, the idea of throwing punches with Amy on the opposing side felt incredibly purgative. “Fine by me,” he said, staring callously into Amy’s unblinking eyes. 

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The target pads attached to Amy’s hands popped as loud as gunshots with each blow that Matthew delivered. It had been a full seven days since he’d last been able to lace up his boxing gloves and that time on the couch had left him fiercely riled up. “Ya know, I think the silk or satin or whatever this crap is helps me move so much FASTER!” he said, his fist striking Amy’s cushioned palm. 

Sure enough, the reduced friction created by the slippy fabric was doing wonders for Matthew’s velocity, much to Amy’s chagrin. “Oof! Maybe you should…start thanking me then,” she responded, slightly out of breath as she struggled to keep up with Matthew. Her wrists throbbed with each impact, though she refused to show it, refusing to let the smirk drop from her lips. Psyching Matthew out by dodging his next punch, she swung her target low and tapped him in the same shot that she landed her finishing blow, “Or…maybe you should keep your left arm tucked better.” 

GRUUUUMBLE! 

Reacting instinctually to being hit in the Hollow Point sweet spot, Matthew’s tummy rumbled in a very upsetting way. It wasn’t nearly enough to make him mess another diaper but that didn’t stop his intestines from trembling regardless. Blinded by the redness of rage filling his pupils, he threw a wild punch aimed directly at Amy’s lower gut. She managed to sneak the target mitt in between his boxing glove and her unguarded stomach. However, his jab was so strong that it knocked the back of her hand into her core anyway. Crashing to her knees, her eyes went wide as the machinations of her digestive tract were sent into a frenzy.  

SPLOOOOOOOOOOOORCH! 

Much like Matthew, Amy had been wearing diapers ever since the IBF made them mandatory for all boxers. And much like Matthew, despite proudly making the Hollow Point’s Revenge a central aspect of her move set, she had avoided filling one up to the moment they entered the ring together. “N-N-N…” she stuttered, unable to even get a simple “no” out as a vast variety of red hues descended upon her face. Her trainer immediately rushed to her aid. 

Standing center-ring and peering around the gym with a guilty expression, Matthew knew how bad this looked regardless of how much the tiny voice in the back of his head wanted him to enjoy this. His actions had been anything but intentional, though that mattered none whatsoever to scores of scornful fighters gathering near the ring to check on Amy. “I-I didn’t…I’m sorry,” he said, uncertain if placing a hand on Amy’s shoulder in comfort would be appropriate given the circumstances. 

“My, my…and just who do you think you are sucker punching my fighter like that.” 

Suddenly, all attention shifted to the female silhouette leaning against the gymnasium’s shadowy front door. With the light of the outside world to be back, the pink pantsuit-wearing woman with a pair of pitch-black sunglasses shielding her eyes and a ragged towel draped over her shoulders strode toward the boxing ring Matthew and Amy were stationed in. “Well? I expect an answer, kid,” said Master, Amy’s sponsor and the CEO of the CrissBaby Diaper Company. 

“I uh…i-it was just an accident. I swear I wasn’t trying to…oh, fuck,” lamented Matthew, too intimidated by Master’s domineering presence to form a complete explanation.  

Luckily for Matthew, Master had watched the entire incident unfold from the very beginning and was merely toying with the quivering sissy. Moreover, the familiar sights and smells of a boxing gym had placed her in a particularly good mood. “An accident? You’re telling me that perfect cross jab was an accident?” she said, slipping off her high heels, stretching the lower ropes wide, and stepping onto the canvas, “If that’s what you can do by accident, I have to admit I’m curious how much damage you could do on purpose.” 

Before Matthew could react to Master’s sudden change in tone, an arm snaked its way around his shoulder and pulled him in close. “I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you. 19 wins, no losses, and not a single sponsorship to show for it,” she said, exhibiting how much she already knew about Matthew and his boxing prowess as she escorted him to a corner of the ring where they could discuss things away from prying ears. Along the way, she passed by Amy, prompting her to pause herself mid-conversation, “Excuse me for a moment, my dear. I must speak with your sparring partner for a moment.” She placed a tender finger under Amy’s chin and nodded in approval. After all, she couldn’t have her ticket to the top of the female boxing world feeling neglected. 

Meanwhile, Matthew allowed himself to be lured by Master, his mind racing with vain thoughts all the while. Here was Amy’s sponsor complimenting his technique not even a minute after he landed a blow against the best fighter on her payroll. “Soon to be second best…” he pondered, grinding his teeth over the monetary potential lying at his feet. Perhaps his nightmarish week as Amy’s slave had been worth it all along. 

“Listen, kid. I’ve been on both sides of the ring all my life, so I can say with confidence that you’ve got something special,” said Master, buttering Matthew up as she continued where she left off, “If you’re interested, I think you might be just the kind of fighter CrissBaby has been looking to break into the world of male boxing. What do you say, kid?” 

With his jaw hanging past his clavicle, Matthew had yet to finish a complete sentence with Master, and yet here he was being offered the deal of a lifetime. “Oh my Goddess! Y-Yes! My answer is yes!” he said jubilantly, extending his hand to firmly shake Master’s without so much a second thought, “Trust me, just wait til you see what I can do when I get out of all this girly junk. If you’re available tomorrow, I’d be happy to demonstr-” 

“Oh…Oh, dear. I do believe we have a slight misunderstanding…” said Master, releasing her grip on Matthew’s shoulders to face him directly, “You see, our company is strictly interested in attracting the type of contender that our particular clientele would resonate with. When I saw you today, I assumed being a sissy and a boxer was your trademark as a fighter. Alas, it seems I’ll have to keep searching. 

“WAIT!” screamed Matthew, his heart resonating in his throat as he clung to Master’s hand. All at once, the culmination of his boxing career from childhood through to today replayed in his head as he grappled with the reality of being known worldwide as a crossdressing boxer. Worst of all, he had only a split second to decide. A faux, shaky smile quickly formed on his face, “O-Oh, you want a sissy boxer? Don’t worry, I was just being shy in case my…uh…lovely outfit was an issue for you. You can ask anyone here. I am…100% sissy.” His grimace did little to support his claims. 

Sandwiching Matthew’s hand between her own like a Venus fly trap, Master didn’t care how truthful her soon-to-be new acquisition was. If anything, an unwilling sissy would give him a significant ratings boost over someone happily complying. “Excellent, that’s exactly what I was hoping to hear,” she said, smiling cruelly like the deal-making devil she was, “Stick with me, kid, and I’ll take you places. Trust me.” 

SQUELCH! 

Seated awkwardly atop her messy pamper, Amy eavesdropped on Matthew and Master’s dialogue as she waited for her trainer to return with a fresh CrissBaby diaper for her. While pooping herself hadn’t been a part of her plan, the rest of her scheme had gone off without a hitch. Swap places with Matthew so he could show off his skills? Check. Entice Master to visit by sending her pictures of a sissified Matthew along with his boxing record? Check. Watch as he lets himself be transformed into a sissy baby boxer for the rest of his career? Check. Check. Check-a-roo. In spite of Matthew’s best efforts, it appeared as though his week as her prissy dress-up doll was about to receive an indefinite extension. “Welcome to the CrissBaby team, Matti.” 

THE END.