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I returned to the office, feeling the back of my nappy sagging. The guy must have pissed a whole lake in the back of it. My lunch time drinking also meant that I pretty full too. While I walked, I tried to concentrate on other things, but it was no use. I needed to piss.
I walked through the reception and into the lift. Other people crammed in and, while the lift climbed, I pissed myself, the nappy absorbing it. I was trying to piss in little spurts to prevent the nappy from flooding, but it was no use - once I started, it just kept going. The familiar warmth and `squishy' feeling between my legs let me know that my nappy was doing its job. By the time I got to my office, the nappy was full and I was empty.
By about four, I started to worry that my nappy would leak on the way home. A subtle nappy check mid-afternoon has shown it to be very full. I decided to send Him a message asking if I could change. I got a message back almost immediately: "No. Drink 2 litres between now and when you leave the office. Start now. Send pictures as proof".
My heart sank: there was no way that my nappy could support that much liquid. I thought I would stagger my drinking and bias the amount towards the end of the remaining hour - but two litres!
I grabbed my `phone and a 1.5 litre pop bottle, filled the bottle with water and took a photograph. Then, I sent several pictures of the bottle gradually emptying through the course of the next hour or so. Just as I was nearing the end of the bottle, I received another message from Him: "Not fast enough. You have a 1.5 litre bottle. Fill it and drink the contents. You have 20 minutes. For taking too long, you will now remove your socks."
I groaned internally! I slipped my shoes off and removed my socks, putting them in my back-pack. Then I put my shoes back on and grabbed the bottle to filled it again. 20 minutes later, I was bloated but had managed to drink it all. I took a picture of my hairless and sock-less legs, another the empty bottle, the I closed the office and headed for home.
As I left the office, I received a text telling me to let Him know when I was out of the building. I replied almost immediately that I was already leaving.
A few minutes later, I received a message containing a media clip. I plugged my earphones into my `phone and opened the clip. Big mistake! It was a clip of Him singing "RIVER deep, mountain high" and laughing. I felt my the sphincter at the base of my bladder open and I was pissing. The more I tried to stop it, somehow, the more it seemed to go on. Worse, it didn't seem to close - it felt like I was now pissing continually. I had to get home and fast!
I grabbed a taxi and gave the driver my address. Through the evening rush-hour, we made slow progress and it took some time to get home. When I got out of the taxi, I saw (to my horror) that the seat was wet. I used my coat to wipe the surface down as subtly as I could and then paid the driver, trying to keep my bag and coat in front of me to hide the wet patch gradually appearing at the front. Worse still, I felt myself dribbling more piss into the already-full nappy. As I walked up to the front door, I could feel piss dribbling down my hairless legs.
Inside, I immediately stooped to remove my shoes. This action made me compress the nappy more, and my pants got a soaking. I took them off and sent a picture of them to Him. I got a message back telling me to put holes in the soaked nappy and put another one on top. I would stay in both nappies overnight, putting a third on, if the second started leaking. This was punishment for not drinking as quickly as I should. By bed time, I needed the third nappy.
The following morning, I woke to a wet bed – even with three nappies absorbing my output, I had produced too much to protect my bedding. As had become normal, I took a photograph of it, and sent it to Him. I have no expectations of being allowed to change my bedding as nappy boys have little choice over how wet their bedding gets.
After showering, I put on a fresh nappy and dressed for work. My trousers from the previous day would need cleaning, so I put them on top of the laundry basket in the bedroom. Just I finished tidying round, the doorbell rang; I had a delivery. Actually, I had several items delivered: my onepiece onesies, crotch-fastening polo shirt onesie, and a pair of dungarees. Having opened them, I took photographs of them all, and sent the picture to Him. I realised I was now hard in my cage. I must be looking forward to wearing these items more than I thought.
I received a message saying that I should wear the polo shirt onesie and dungarees to travel to Him on Friday when I would be catheterised. From now on, I should only wear nappy-friendly clothing when at home, or out and about. The onepiece onesies should now become the standard when at home. In fact, that the last part of the message was explicit: "For home wear, you should be in you cage, a plug, a nappy (or nappies) - wet, and your onepiece only. Nothing else. Got it?". I confirmed his instructions.
The next couple of days fell into a sort of routine. I changed my (soaked) nappy at lunch time, keeping the old one available in case He sprang a surprise inspection.When I got home, I changed nappy again, putting both of the days used nappies into the nappy-bin in the bedroom. Then, I climbed into a onepice and settled, listening to the hypnosis recordings a couple of times each evening, and running them overnight on a loop.
I was also getting used to being caged. My cock was going hard and then softening throughout the day - but - it made me continuously horny. My nappies always contained a fair amount of pre-cum. Being plugged when at home and overnight merely added to the sexual frustration.
On the Thursday morning, a couple of shirts arrived - these looked like normal shirts at the top but down below had integral pants to accommodate a full nappy and elastic legs. Effectively, a onesie that looked like a shirt. Of course, I was told to wear one to work that day. On Thursday evening, I was inspected via FaceTime as He was working that night. I was told to go to my wardrobe and remove all the shirts. I counted them - and then ordered a set of onesie shirts to replace the ones in my wardrobe. Then, still on camera, I packaged up all the normal shirts, sealed them in a bag and put them outside for charity collection.
Apart from a few short sweatshirts and t-shirts, my entire wardrobe now supported my newly found nappy fetish. Onesie shirts for work; onepiece jumpsuits for home; onesie t-shirts and polo-shirts for when out and about. The t-shirts and polo-shirts had crotch fastenings, making it relatively easy to change my nappy. The work-shirts, however, didn't - meaning that I had to strip almost completely to change my nappy in the cubicles at work.
Thursday seemed to be a nappy-clothing day: I finally received an email back from the custom-clothing website. They said they could adapt any clothing to accommodate a nappy. They sent a few pictures of snap-crotch dungarees, shorts similarly modified and trousers with a removable central section (similar to chaps, I guess), to either check/change, or exposit the nappy. They also sent a few pictures of locking shorts: locking waistband and legs that would prevent unauthorised removal. I forwarded the email to Him so that he could see the reply.
And then Friday arrived. I was dozing gently to one of the hypnosis recordings when His morning message came in: "Report here at 7:30PM for catheterisation. When you get back from work, shower well, fresh nappy and drink 3 litres of water. Wear exactly: trainers (no socks), Bambino nappy, cage, largest plug, white polo-shirt onesie, snap-crotch dungarees.". I replied with an "Ok" and prepared for my day at work.
I couldn't concentrate on much at all. It seemed like I was hard for the whole day. By the time I got back home, my balls ached and I had flooded my nappy with precum.
As instructed, I showered. For safety's-sake, I gave myself a quick enema too: I wanted to ensure I was clean inside and out! After a couple of cycles, everything ran out clear, and I went through to the bedroom.
I grabbed the largest plug and lubricated it well. Being the largest plug, my hole wasn't used to an invasion of that size. Gradually I worked it up inside me. Having learned from previous times with plugs that stretched me, I held it for a while at its widest point before removing it slowly. Then I re-inserted it to the widest point again, and removed it again. I continued with this slow fucking motion for about 20 minutes, by which time my hole was greedily accepting the plug and my caged erection had oozed a massive amount of precum, which pooled on my abdomen.
With the plug in place, I lay down on a Bambino nappy and put it around me. Once the tapes were fastened, I stood up and walked through to the kitchen to get the first of my required 3 litres of water. I hand't realised how noisy a plastic-backed nappy was until then.
Over the next hour or so, I drank slightly over 3 litres of water. As I had some time left, I also listened to one of the hypnosis recordings and came back from it wet. Once again, I had pissed without knowing anything about it; the recordings had started to work.
It was time to go to His - I fetched the white polo-shirt onesie and the dungarees. Pulling both on, I then bent down to put my trainers on. As I did, the plug moved against my prostate and I felt precum push into my nappy. I was beginning to understand the importance of the cage: it kept me very focussed on my state!
Being without socks is one of those weird things: a little thing that makes you aware that someone else has taken control of you. Combine that with being hairless, and you feel that people know something's going on. Socks at least hide the hairless lower-leg and ankle. The whole setup had an `almost' normal look - but look again and you could start to strip down what I was actually wearing - the dungarees looked normal at first glance, but look again and you'd notice the snap fastenings up both legs and around the crotch; look at the top and I'm wearing a polo-shirt, until you really look and notice it goes down the sides of the dungarees where you can see the waistband of my nappy along with the bulge created by the cage and wetting. Really look and you'd notice my smooth arms and legs, and when you listen, you'd hear the crinkle of my nappy as I walk.
I arrived slightly before 7:30, so waited outside for the remaining time. At exactly 7:30, I pressed the buzzer and was told to come up to the apartment. As usual, the door was ajar, so I knocked, went in and removed my trainers before closing the door behind me.
"Go through to the bedroom", He said from the living room.
As I went into the bedroom, I noticed a collection of items on the bed: a large towel, a sterile pack containing a catheter, several small bottles, a syringe, and some antibacterial hand-cleaner.
He came in with Jason. He carried a bowl filled with iced water; ice-cubes floated on the top. He walked up to me, and without saying a word, undid the clasps on my Dungarees. They fell to the floor with a thud.
He then pulled at my crotch-fastenings and unsnapped the onesie before pulling it up and over my head. My nappy was wet, but not soaked. It sagged nicely when the onesie came off.
"Right", said Jason, "let's get started. Cleanliness is absolutely key, so get the wet nappy off him"
He gently unfastened the Bambino tapes - by the way He did, I knew I would be going back in that nappy at some point: it wasn't full enough yet.
The cold air hit my caged cock and caused it to swell in its plastic container. Once again, my balls yearned for emptying but I knew that was unlikely to happen any time soon.
"Now", Jason said, "We'll want the front part of the cage off. We can feed the cath tube through it once we have sterilised everywhere, but it has to come off initially. Nice to see you keep him smooth - that also helps prevent infection."
He went to fetch his keys and then unlocked the padlock holding my cage in place. As soon as the cage came off, my cock sprang to attention. Jason plunged his hands into the iced water and brought out a few ice-cubes. With a seamless movement, he encased my erection in icy water. I yelped but went soft instantly.
"Good", said Jason, "it's easier when it's soft".
With that he gave instructions about how to clean me properly - I was told to lie down on the towel, put a fresh nappy underneath me and then had sterilising liquid applied to the whole of my frontal nappy region. As part of the cleaning, both He and Jason cleaned their hands thoroughly and sterilised the CB6000S thoroughly.
Jason then opened the bottom part of the catheter packaging and passed it to Him.
"Thread that through the cage slit, then apply some sterile lubricant. I have two types here - this one", he said pointing to the first bottle, "contains a local anaesthetic, while this", pointing to the other, "doesn't." He smiled. "I suggest we go for the one without for the first insertion, perhaps using the other for larger catheters later".
Jason gave Him further instructions about lubricating the inside of my penis and the catheter tube.
Then it started: I felt a gentle pressure on the tip of my cock and saw the end of the tube start to go inside me. My heart was pounding and I kept holding my breath as, little by little, the tube disappeared into me. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt some pressure building up inside me. I tensed up. Jason told me to relax and told Him to keep a gentle pressure going.
"You're reaching the sphincter now. With gentle pressure, it will yield. You might want to clamp the end to prevent your bed getting wet, but for the first time, I would prefer to see piss coming out so we know we're there ...".
With that, I felt something give inside me and immediately piss started pouring out of the free end of the catheter. Jason grabbed a small plug and used it to stop the flow.
"Well done", Jason said, "now to make sure it doesn't fall out - we use the syringe to fill the balloon now inside his bladder".
After filling the balloon, He gave a gentle tug to make sure the catheter had seated itself properly and then locked the cage back on.
"No pain or discomfort?", Asked Jason.
I shook my head and said "no".
"Good. So, now we'll add a non-return valve. We need this to prevent anything going back up from the nappy into the bladder. This ensures that anything can come out, but nothing can go back inside". I leaked a little more piss while he applied the valve and then replugged the end of the tube.
"And, we're done", said Jason, "I suggest you get him nappied and then we can remove the cath plug. He will then have lost any control he might have had ... and, I guess, the weekend fun can begin ..."