Sammy's New Family - Commissioned Caption!

Sammy laid in the crib her wife had placed him in.

He was thickly padded, wearing the most ridiculous clothes and hugging his favorite stuffed animals. The room where he was kept was that of a baby girl. There was a changing table, toys scattered everywhere, and changing supplies, and the walls were painted a soft pink. Right next to his crib was a baby monitor he knew his wife had placed particularly there so he could know what she did in what used to be their bed. So he could hear her moan whenever Bill came home. Bill, who had been his assistant not long ago, and the person that caused all of these. The one that turned him from a successful lawyer into a pathetic sissy baby.

Sammy's tummy growled, and he knew what it meant. 

"I think the baby's awake," he heard his wife say through the baby monitor. 

"So?" asked Bill. 

"Well, she must need a change." 

Bill laughed. 

"She knows to cry if she really needs something. Besides, the kids are here; they can handle their sissy father." 

"They don't like it," said Sammy's wife, "They never change her diapers. They only play with her sometimes. And I think Cole is still ashamed of having that as a father." 

Sammy blushed in his crib. His tummy still craving relief. 

Neither his son nor his daughter were happy when Bill and Morgan presented the new Sammy to them. Thickly diapered, with a pacifier in his mouth, and a baby girl dress so frilly it would put to shame any real babies. But Sammy wasn't a real baby. He was forty, and he looked ridiculous as Bill carried him to show everyone in the family the type of man he was. 

Or, well, the type of man he wasn't. 

"Well, Cole's about to be a father himself. He better learn how to change diapers soon."

"I know, but don't you think we've pushed Sammy too much? Maybe she does need some positive reinforcement," said Sammy's wife.

"Positive reinforcement?" 

"When was the last time she came?" 

"Perhaps before that day. I don't know; you're his wife. You tell me." 

Sammy's tummy was now screaming for release. But he held it. It was enough he was now wetting in his sleep, but he wasn't going to lose control of his bowels too. No. He would hold it until the very last. 

"Last time," continued Sammy's wife, "I think it was a week before he had that public accident in the office. The one you orchestrated." 

Sammy remembered it as if it had been so long ago, yet it had been only one month since that fateful day. And though Bill and Morgan kept talking, his mind drifted to a memory he had been wanting to forget. One he had buried so deep down that it felt more like a dream or a nightmare. 

A beautiful day when it happened. 

He left his wife that morning, knowing his kids had already agreed to return home for Thanksgiving. Everything was falling into place for Sam. And that day he was going to have an important meeting. Seal a deal with a client and get the promotion he had been looking forward to. Soon he would have it all. The big house of his dreams and the perfect American family. 

But little Sammy knew better now. 

Tears rolled down his eyes, and his tummy was now aching. He let out a wet fart to relieve some pressure, and a little bit of pee came out. It didn't matter; his diaper could hold still and would have to. It didn't seem like Mommy or Daddy cared about changing him anytime soon. 

"I love it when you tell the story," said Morgan, giggling, "Can you tell it again?"

Sammy blushed again, this time even redder. His wife knew he was listening. She knew that he hated that memory. Morgan knew that just thinking about that day made his shame so strong he could barely cope. And even then, his way of coping with it was submitting to his fate even deeper. There was no way of fighting back his new lifestyle. Why try?

And Bill spoke the words, and a rush of memories invaded Sammy's mind. 

He had arrived at his office early, like every day. Everyone greeted him with the proper respect. Even Bill, who was back then his most trusted subordinate. Sam knew Bill was ambitious and wanted his position, but he never imagined it. He never suspected to which point Bill was ready to take his greed and ambition. So, Sam didn't suspect a thing when Bill offered him some coffee. He had done it before. 

"It's your favorite," Bill said.

And it was. 

The day went by, and the meeting was getting closer, and Bill ensured that Sam kept himself hydrated the entire time. The excuse was simple. Hydration was the perfect way to ensure he was at his best during the meeting, and Sam wanted that. So he drank anything Bill gave him. And when he needed to pee so often, he thought it was just because he had been drinking so much. 

"Welcome, everyone," said Sam as he entered the meeting room where the clients were already waiting. 

He began exposing his case on why they should hire his firm and not others. He was doing so great that for a movement, he thought it was best to ignore his bladder. After all, Sam was an adult, and adults could hold it. But then, it wasn't just his bladder. His tummy began growling as he talked about his client's needs and why investing a bit more in their legal fees was better than other affordable options. The clients were almost on their feet because they were excited he made the presentation. 

This was it. 

It was Sam's moment, and he could already savor it. 

And then it happened. 

A pain in his stomach so sharp that it forced him to bend. Another one,  stronger, and he fell on his knees. 

"Are you okay?" asked some of the present. 

But Sam couldn't really talk, for as far as his body was concerned, he had lost the battle. A puddle of his own urine formed almost immediately around him, feeling the warmth of his pee against his skin and clothes. That alone was shameful enough. But it wasn't over. Cold sweat and then a fart, so loud and so clearly wet that everyone in the room knew what had happened. 

"Disgusting," he heard someone say, and tears rolled down his eyes.

Another fart, and then, his bowels let loose, and the biggest mess escaped his anus. Solid at first, but then soft and wet. So big it covered his entire underwear until it began leaking down his legs and into his shoes. 

When he was done, he looked up to see Bill grinning. 

That was it. 

After what happened, Bill took him to the bathroom despite his protests. But how could he protest when he was such a mess? He was still crying and wet and messy, and he didn't know what had happened. 

"Well, it will be a miracle if we manage to save the situation and land the client. But don't worry, I'll take care of it," said Bill, pushing Sam into the bathroom, "You, however, need a clean and some clothes. I'll take you to your home after I've spoken with clients."

"But they are my clients!"

Bill laughed. 

"Your clients just saw you shit yourself like a two-year-old. You'll be lucky if they don't go to the competition. You know what the big boss would do if that happened." 

"But, but. It wasn't my fault. I'm–I'm just sick. A tummy ache or something." 

Bill chuckled, "That wasn't a tummy ache. That was a little boy not knowing when to go to the potty. Now stay still."

"What?" 

And Bill removed Sam's clothes so fast; he was surprised to see his assistant wasn't disgusted by the smell. There he was, naked and dirty, in front of a man ten years his junior that was also bigger and stronger than him. 

"You know, I always thought the big office and car were because you like your comfort. But now I can see it was you trying to compensate. Were you bullied in school? Did they call you a sissy?" 

"Shut up!"

A sharp pain against his left cheek as Bill slapped him so hard it made Sam dizzy. 

And Sam began crying again; this time, it was pain and humiliation. 

"You better learn some respect and fast that I'm the only one trying to help you here." 

"Why?"

"Because that's what good assistants do," said Bill with a kind smile.

And part of Sam wanted to believe him, so he did as Bill told him to do. First, he let Bill clean him thoroughly, even when he was clearly paying too much attention to his butthole, which just made Sam blush. Bill used toilet paper at first, but he then convinced one of the secretaries to lend them some baby wipes she had with her. Then he continued the cleaning process. Metodically, yet warmly. And within ten minutes, Sam was clean. But then he realized something; he had no more clothes. 

"And what did he do then?" asked Sammy's wife.

Sammy was back in the present, his tummy grumbling and his diaper wet. 

"He had no choice but to accept what I could offer him. Or he would have to leave naked," said Bill, taking a pause to clearly kiss Morgan passionately, "And then I gave him the baby dress and the diaper and told him to choose." 

"He could've said no and called me, you know."

"Aye. But he didn't. And we know that's because part of him knew it was the most natural thing for someone like him." 

Bill's memory of the day was confusing after that, but he did remember the choice. 

There he was, talking to Bill, completely naked and with his hairless crotch on display. And Bill was there, imposing and masculine. Without his suits and shoes and watches, Sam was just a parody of a man. So when Bill forced him to choose, he thought it was better to get over with it and go back home. He couldn't know Bill had other plans in mind. 

He diapered Sam and put the dress on him, and then, without any effort, picked him up and took him to the office. Everyone saw it. Everyone saw the man who had been the firm's star being carried by his assistant. Not just that, being put back in diapers because he shit himself in front of important clients. 

It could've been the shock, but Sam was never the same after that. 

And now here he was, lying in his wet diaper, waiting to be changed by his Mommy or Daddy or even his son or daughter. A pathetic excuse of a man, and his tummy shouting that he couldn't hold it any longer. 

And then the door opened.