On a Tight Leash (Commission)

Thanks to our Gold-tier patron PJChloro for commissioning this one!

***

"Umm, Miss Carnegie? I'm back with Greystoke now!" Terry's voice echoed through the gleaming corridor, but as no response was forthcoming, he tried again. "Miss Carnegie! You said I should come straight back after taking Greystoke for his walk. So, um, I'm back. Shall I just… leave him?"

Still no answer. Terry scratched his head in confusion and glanced down at the little Pekingese who was pacing about the floor, paying him no more mind now than he had during the walk. Hmm. This job was one hell of a plum; the middle-aged lady who owned it was clearly wealthy – almost obscenely so. Naturally, all he wanted to do was keep her happy: walk her silly little fur baby, and bring him back safe and sound, and get that much-needed cash in return.

"Miss Greystoke?" More uncertain than ever. He couldn't very well just head out – certainly not since she'd explicitly told him to come to her afterward. Maybe she was in one of those rooms down the hall? He didn't want to track any dirt in, so maybe he'd better just take his shoes off first…

There. Now he padded forward on stockinged feet, trying not to be awed by the elegant furnishings around him. Hmm, maybe past the staircase? Better not go too far, of course. But he really did need to find her-

So it was that the swift jerk and tightening of arms around him caught him completely off-guard. As did the vision-filling, rustling white mound of sweet-smelling tissues pressed unexpectedly over his face.

"Hey! Wha- Get off me- Hel-phhmmmmmph!" His outcry was silenced as quickly as it had arisen, as another slim yet strong hand clamped down across his spluttering mouth. "Mmm-mmmhhhhmmm!" Terry was fighting hard now,  adrenaline pulsing through his entire being against this unknown assailant. But even as he struggled, the sickly sweet fumes from the tissues were beginning to clog his mind and weigh down his limbs. He had to- had to break free. Had to thrust these awful, soft, crinkling tissues away and out of his mouth and nose and eyes…

Ohh… no. Here came the ground, slanting up to meet him. He slumped heavily to the floor, mind oozing out into darkening unconsciousness. But before quite everything went black, he would later recall hearing something: a feminine voice. Laughing. And asking whether Greystoke was ready for a new playmate.

***

"Come on. Wake up, baby! You can't just nap all day. Not just yet, anyway…"

Ugh. Wha- what the hell. What had even hap-? He… he'd been… walking. Walking that dog. Looking for that lady…

Terry's gritty eyes blinked open, and he found himself staring up into the face of the very woman he'd been searching for. Miss Carnegie, beaming from beneath her thick coat of mascara and lipstick, her dyed, blown-out waves swaying seductively as she shook her head in amusement. "Oh, there you are, honey! I was beginning to worry I'd overdone it with the chloroform! And really, that would have been too bad, wouldn't it?"

He struggled to sit up… and failed. Spectacularly. For as his bleary, wondering gaze darted upward, and he flexed his core to rise, and he tugged at his naked arms and legs, the panic began to well up within. His arms were… cuffed.  His ankles… likewise. He was splayed out spread-eagle, pinned down like a helpless bug to this bed. Or… was it a cage? A massive baby crib, perhaps? What else would those bars around him be for? But- but he wasn't a baby…

Not that his attire would have said differently. For – and as his frightened gaze soon informed him – while his ordinary clothes seemed to have vanished, there was a singular piece of clothing left to his name: a giant, oversized, weirdly puffy diaper. With a sickeningly babyish row of pastel blocks printed across the front spelling out "BABY."

Oh, but things were about to get even worse. For even as his widening eyes cast about in growing horror, Miss Carnegie was gleefully slipping an additional, open diaper beneath him. "Can't have my new little baby leaking and making puddles in his new crib, can we?", she smirked, and now she was holding aloft a box of tissues. One after another she produced them, crumpling them between her slender fingers, building a veritable cloud of rustling cotton… and then, before his very eyes, dropping them down to line the entire interior of the second diaper. "See?" she crowed in evident delight. "Now baby can have all the accidents he wants, and he'll stay all safe and dry in his lovely, crinkly double diapers! You really do have the best Mommy ever, don't you?"

Terry shuddered silently at her saccharine-sweet words. Mommy? Baby?! No, no, no! This was all so- so weird-

A moan escaped him – but little more, thanks to the massive pacifier-shaped gag he now realized was lodged between his jaws. "Aww, is my new little baby thirsty?" Miss Carnegie cooed, and as Terry writhed and struggled, she reached down with her long, manicured nails and began undoing the paci-gag's straps. "Here, why don't we get you a nice big ba-ba, hmm? And while you drink, Mommy can explain everything – and maybe give you an extra-special treat, too…"

"No, wha-? Please, let me go-hhhmmppphhh!" And silent he fell once more, muted behind the girthy, almost phallic rubber bottle nipple she now forced, giggling, into his mouth. "Not a chance, baby!" she tittered, and as the creamy, sickeningly sweet substance coated his tongue and drained down his unwillingly gulping throat, Terry found himself powerless to do anything but listen.

"Why ever would I let you go, baby?", Miss Carnegie wondered with a sweet smile, easing forward and slipping one leg over him so that she was straddling her bound and helpless captive. "It just gets so boring here by myself! Now that Frank is gone, I really don't know what to do with myself most days. And so… well, why not hire a new dog-walking boy to spice things up a bit?"

She let out another inane giggle, and Terry shivered and gulped to narrowly avoid choking on the formula. "See, I've always wondered what it would be like to have a baby of my own, you know. Not naturally, of course – pregnancy is, you know, yikes. But surely playing with a full-grown boy toy would work, surely. And well…" She leaned forward and planted a crimson-lipped kiss full on his sweating forehead. "Well, you came along at just the right time! You're just so stinking cute, you know. And I'm sure you're going to love being my baby – if not now, then certainly by the time I've finished with you…"

Her hand was reaching back now, and despite the thick cotton swaddling his imprisoned cock, Terry could feel her fingers teasingly rubbing and sliding along his hidden length. "Just think, honey. You're trapped here with me. You're tied up… utterly at my mercy. This beautiful woman can force you to do anything she likes… to drink anything she decides. You're going to end up pissing and shitting yourself, and there's nothing you can do about it. Isn't that… so hot?"

Was it? Terry was writhing, shaking his head in vehement denial, but even as he struggled he couldn't deny the sordid, humiliating arousal welling within him, already manifesting in his stiffening cock. "See, that's more like it!" Miss Carnegie laughed, and now he could hear a growl of throaty lust in her condescending tone. "You're going to be such a good baby boy for me, you know it. I'm already feeding you my special drugged formula. It's a lovely mixture, too: just right for weakening your bladder muscles and sending you off to sleep like a baby. Just think how lovely it's going to be, waking up in heavy, sagging pampers just like a real, genuine, bedwetting toddler!"

Terry choked, fought to spit the bottle out – but failed. And ended up only gulping even more of the dreadful formula from the nipple she was gleefully forcing deeper into his mouth. Which… horrifyingly enough, only seemed to intensify his infuriating hard-on.

"That's right!" she urged now, and he shuddered as her pressure on his tissue-enveloped cock intensified. "Be a good baby for me. Show Mommy how much you love your pretty pampers! Make a lovely big cummy mess in your pants for me, baby. Those tissues feel so good… so soft… so very nice and thick around you. You're going to make a great big mess in your diaper, and you can't even help it! Babies like you never can…"

He could fight. He could struggle. But In the end, he truly couldn't help it.

And after he'd moaned and gulped and squirmed in pathetic, helpless orgasm beneath his mistress, she giggled and removed the almost-empty bottle from his gasping mouth. "Good baby," she breathed, even as she slipped the pacifier gag back once more between his sticky lips. "Now hush up and go nite-nite for Mommy. Remember: with every minute, you're becoming more and more my baby…"

He blinked, and gulped, and blinked once more, fighting silently against the undeniable, mingled drowse of post-orgasmic fatigue and the already-growing effects of his drugged formula. But of course Miss Carnegie only smiled more broadly and slid off, patting his bulging crotch with maternal pride. "See? You're already sticky. You're going to keep on dribbling out your pee-pee now; believe me, the little catheter I slipped in there earlier will see to that. You're safe and sound, strapped down tight here in your new crib and your new nursery. You're already my baby… even if you don't know it just yet."

Of course he feebly wriggled. Of course he moaned. But all she did was chuckle and pull the crib rail up, locking it into place with a solid click of disturbing finality. "You're a dog walker, right? So you know all about keeping a tight leash," she giggled, reaching in and giving his nose a tweak. "See, I'm doing exactly the same thing with you, baby! Just a nice, lovely, short leash for my new little baby – until he learns that fighting Mommy is, well… impossible."

But the worst of it? Terry's drug-fogged brain was already whispering that she just might be right.