Book Excerpt for Pink Panty Stories

Pink Panty Stories -- Extract

Wendy

Cover graphic design by Drew at idrewdesign on Fiverr.com.

The right of Wendy to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure

Chapter Three

No Escape Now

Sybille opened the apartment door with an electronic key similar to a car key. Once they were inside, it closed with a solid thump.

"The button is computer-coded to work only if it's my finger prints," she told Paul. "A thief couldn't make it work even he knew exactly what to do. Same on the inside. That door won't open again until I say so."

Paul laughed. "So I'm trapped in here?"

"That's right. There's no escape for you now."

Paul put both arms around her waist, pulled her close and tried to kiss her. She stopped him with a finger to his mouth.

"Remember -- the drink comes first," she said.

He released her, stepped back and nodded in mock humility. "My apologies. I forgot. It won't happen again."

"That's true."

Sybille slipped off her shoes and turned off all the lights in the living room except for one small lamp on the side opposite them. Then she went into the kitchen, returning with a carafe of gold but nameless liquid. She poured some into two tall wine glasses.

Paul took a sip and grimaced. "I'm not much of a wine drinker. Got a can of Bud?"

Sybille sat down close beside him, letting him feel her warmth, and waved her glass in front of his face.

"Drink it, Paul. It's what you need."

He took a long sip. It tasted sweet and powerful. Not bad, really.

"How's it taste now?"

"Better."

"Go on, drink it all down. You don't need to sip it like you like it."

"It's not so bad," Paul said, drinking more. "But what's it matter?"

He was starting to feel dizzy. Maybe it was a lot stronger than it tasted. He'd had enough beers at The Daze Inn to feel high, but not that many.

He noticed that she wasn't drinking anything from her glass, and had a momentary thought that might be important, but he couldn't think why, and then he was distracted by her foot rubbing his leg.

Sybille put her arm around his shoulders. "Drink up," she whispered in that throaty, long drawn out voice, like a hypnotist in a movie. "Drink uppppppppppp."

The faint flow of the distant lamp swirled around Paul's eyes. Oh he was drunker than he'd thought . . . much, much drunker.

So drunk he didn't notice when he slid from a sitting position to lying on his back on the rich brown leather sofa, Sybille's face just above his. She was rubbing his chest in long, slow smooth circles.

He couldn't remember, but she must have unbutton his shirt, because her fingers and palm were smooth and warm against his bare skin, brushing through his chest hairs.

"Whahhhhhhh" Paul tried to talk, but his tongue and lips felt so heavy, filled with Novacaine at the dentist.

"Shhhhhhh," Sybille said. "I'm taking you back home."

"Back . . . home?" Paul felt a surge of emotion at the last word, and he couldn't keep it out of his voice.

Home.

Sounded like hope.

Home . . growing up with his family. Safe and warm. Loved and protected.

Kept sheltered . . . all his needs satisfied.

"Yes, back home. Go back, baby. Go back . . . go waaaaaaay back."

Paul nodded and closed his eyes. The years fell away from him. He was no longer a grown man, but a teenaged boy, and then a young boy, and then even days of school and sports fell from him and he slipped into a dream of lying naked in a bassinet, washed naked by hands connected to a loving voice . . . and rubbed oil and powder on him and then put cloth all around him . . .

. . . so he ate when those hands placed a warm nipple in his mouth so he could suck the sweet milk . . .

. . . and when it passed through him, the water squirted out of his tiny penis and shit squeezed though his asshole and he'd cry but soon was dry and warm and clean again . . .

Chapter Four

Baby Bondage Dreams

One part of Paul's mind remained a grownup who remembered everything, but he could only look on helplessly as the rest of Paul experienced a delirious, fever dream brought on by the mysterious drug Sybille gave him.

It was a mixture of a deep dream, an acid trip and deep memories of babyhood.

The pretty face crooned. "My pretty, pretty baby. You're deep, deep under my control now."

"Mommy," Paul gurgled with delight.

The pretty face smiled, the bright red lipstick glowing bright.

"I'm not Mommy," she said. "But your Mommy gave you to me to take care of for her. I'm going to take good care of my baby girl."

Something the pretty lady said sounded wrong to Paul, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"So now you're my pretty, pretty baby," she said. "And you'll always be my sweet little baby."

She snapped her fingers in a peculiar way. "Whenever I make that noise, you'll go back . . . way back . . . and you'll be my sweet adorable baby girl Wendy."

Paul nodded his head. He loved the crooning warmth of her voice, her hands on his naked body . . .

"Now it's time for Wendy to go to her room. My baby needs her beddy bye time."

Paul felt the lady's arm around him, helping him to stand. He left babyhood just enough to toddle to the steps and walk upstairs to his bedroom.

It was a large room specially made for a baby girl. It was decorated in pink and white, with fairy tale and cartoon animals and creatures all over.

A big, strong crib sat on the floor against the wall, make of strong solid wood. Paul dimly realized it had been made big enough to hold an adult.

The lady put down one side and helped Paul to lie down in the crib. The mattress was big and firm, but soft enough to be comfortable.

"You're such a pretty, pretty baby," she said softly over and over. "Now it's time for you to go beddy bye. But first I have to get you ready."

She left his side and came back with a pink nylon nightie decorated with lace and ruffles. She put his head through the top, then helped his arms through the puffy sleeves.

"Now my pretty baby Wendy looks so gorgeous in her sweet adorable pink nightie."

Paul hardly noticed when the lady (Sybille? Somewhere in his mind, he remembered that name.) put each of his wrists into manacles connected to chains connected to a corner of the bed and snapped them shut.

Chapter Five

Sweet Baby Wendy

"Don't worry, baby," she said. "I'm going to take real good care of my pretty baby. Your Mommy told me to take care of you, and I'm going to do that."

She pulled out a piece of large, fluffy white square cloth and placed it under Paul's ass.

"Now that you're in that pretty pink nightie, you're such a pretty baby. And tomorrow we'll have all sorts of fun together. We'll play all kinds of naughty games. But tonight we start your potty training."

She pulled up the nightie to his waist, then squirted baby oil all over his groin area. She rubbed him all over, then pulled the thick, fluffy white cloth up from between his legs and fastened it to the front, so now he was wearing snugly fitting diapers.

She then brought out a pair of pink plastic panties with a fringe of white ruffles around them, and slipped Paul's feet into them. She pulled them up his legs and fit them over his diapers. The rubber leg bands fit exactly.

Then she put a pink bootie on each one of his feet.

Then she was next to him again, her hand gently rubbing his belly under the silky smooth pink nightie.

"We're starting your potty training," she said in a whispery voice. "You remember how to use a potty, Wendy?"

Although not sure why she kept calling him Wendy, Paul nodded. He was too deep in this drug-induced trance.

"Yes, many years ago you learned. You sat down and stood up and conditioned your bladder muscles and your rectum muscles to hold tight unless you were in position over or on a potty."

Paul lay motionless, but inside his head was spinning farther and farther down.

"Now you can forget how to use the potty. Forget everything you learned after you were a year old. It's falling away from you, falling away . . . now your inner muscles remember how to relax, relax, relaaaaaaaax just as they did a long, long time ago . . .

"Relax, pretty baby Wendy . . . relax . . . When your urine builds up in your bladder and it feels full that's no longer a signal for you to go to the potty, that's a signal for your bladder muscles to relax, just relax and let go, and let that urine go, just let it go, relax and let it go . . .

"Squirt out your wee wee. Just relax and feel loose and warm and wet inside, warm and wet inside . . . relax and feel loose, and feel the overwhelming joy of your urine flowing free, flowing free . . .

"Just like it used to do, when Mommy took care of you . . . you didn't worry . . . you just let the warm wet feeling take care of itself, and Mommy changed your diapers . . .

"And now your sphincter muscle is forgetting how to clench hard . . . it's remembering how to feel loose and free, relax and feel loose and free . . .

"When your bowels feel full they just push and out comes the poo poo. And Mommy takes care of you and cleans your diapers."

Paul's mind kept swirling and swirling, down and down, while she rubbed his tummy with the palm of her hand and kept whispering to him over and over.

"Relax, relax. Your muscles remember how to relax and feel free and loose, free and loose, and let your tinkle and poo poo come right out, come right out . . ."

Her fingers made that funny snapping sound again. "Remember, whenever you hear this sound, you are my pretty little baby girl Wendy, my sweet adorable baby doll . . . my sweet, sweet baby girl Wendy . . . "

Paul was too far gone to realize when the drug dreams turned into real dreams.

Chapter Six

Waking Up in Diapers

He woke up when daylight began streaming through the white lace curtains framing the windows.

At first he couldn't figure out why his wrists were shackled to chains. He stirred around, feeling so strange.

Suddenly adrenaline and memory shot through his body.

He remembered everything!

For a moment it was such a nightmare he thought it couldn't be true, but as he looked around, he saw he was indeed lying in a big, adult-sized crib.

With both his arms chained to it.

Wearing nothing but a frilly pink little girl's nightie.

And diapers.

And he could feel the cooling liquid against his groin and feel the squishiness of shit against his ass.

"Help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he screamed, then started pulling at the chains. This hurt his wrists, so he began kicking the sides of the crib with his feet, though they were still wearing pink baby booties.

"Help! Get me out of here, somebody! I'll kill you!"

Then Sybille was there with frizzled hair, but wearing a black nightgown that made her look even sexier than she had in the bar last night.

At the memory, Paul kicked the crib even harder.

"Take it easy," Sybille said. "That crib is made of very strong hardwood. You can't break it."

"Are you crazy? What the hell is this shit? This is kidnapping. This is murder. I'll see you in jail."

She stood with her arms on her waist and gave him a hard look. "Oh, you want to go to police, do you? And have everybody in the world read about the man who let a woman dress him in a little girl's pink nightie and diapers? I took plenty of pictures and videos. I'm sure people will love to see the look on your face when I put those diapers on you -- it'll make the most popular video on YouTube since Paris Hilton first got laid."

Paul continued to struggle. "I'll kill you."

"Oh stop it! You're a bigger baby when you think you're grown up than when you let me put you in diapers."

She bent down close to him. "Speaking of which . . ."

She lifted the waist band of the pink plastic diapers and sniffed. "Yes, your potty training has started. Good."

Paul started thrashing around. "Potty training?"

"Maybe I should call it UN-potty training. It's training you to forget your potty training, and just piss and shit in your diapers like you did when you were a real baby."

"You're crazy. This is kidnapping."

"No, it's not. Your wife hired me for this job, so it's all fair and square."