Alternative Sentence Ch. 08: Stroll

Hello everyone! This is the eight chapter of my short story series. I advise reading the stories before it before it, the characters are all above 18 years of age, and, as always, have a good read.

Emily's eyes slowly blinked open. She counted 45 days since her admission into the facility.

She was a month and a half through a 96-month sentence. And it quite definitely had not flown by.

That being said, she had quite definitely fallen into a routine of observing every detail around her and trying to piece together an escape plan. Which was not rendered easier by the aphrodisiac-induced mist which enveloped her mind almost constantly. Every morning she woke up burning with need, then had breakfast. A short-lived burst of vibration from her belt would signal to her if she had behaved properly. She would then move on to the playroom. She had found that the optimal strategy to make sure that she was rewarded with an orgasm as early as possible was to play with the toys she was provided with, be they building blocks, stacking rings, toy cars or anything of the sorts she could find in the baskets in the playroom; babbling or otherwise speaking in babyish words; sucking on her pacifier whenever she wasn't babbling; and, most importantly, splitting up when she peed into as many short bursts as possible. Whenever she followed this "protocol", she was able to achieve a climax shortly after lunchtime (unless she tried to convey any vaguely elaborate concept to her fellow prisoners). That seemed to attract the disapproval of her belt just as much as Isabella's stern looks. Whatever Pavlovian-conditioning effect this behaviour was having on her, she would deal with it after she had gotten out.

And it was so that, after breakfast, she waddled over to the corner which normally contained the toy basket, only to be surprised by the presence of a second one, containing somewhat more elaborate games.

While she was peering into the container, her pacifier dropped from her mouth, bouncing on the inside of the basket, as she let out a prolonged moan. The faint buzzing of her vibrator mixed with the crinkle of her diaper rubbing in shallow humps against her hands. She didn't dare to push any deeper for fear of punishment, but the action did give her at least some psychological relief. Alas, the vibrations slowly started weakening after the initial shock until Emily could barely feel them. She took back control of her body, took a deep, frustrated breath and extracted the most interesting-looking game from the bunch: a box of "Sorry!"

She placed the box on the ground, opened it with some difficulty, and prepared the board. To her relief, the pieces were much larger than normal, so handling them was no challenge even with mittens on.

Meanwhile, attracted by the promise of a game more intellectually stimulating than sorting rings on poles (and perhaps even another kind of stimulation), the other girls approached the board.

Luckily, everyone already knew the rules of the game (Rebecca too, unless she didn't and just couldn't get it through her pacigag), and so they started playing. It was all fun, games and occasional diaper wetting followed by moans and crinkling until Emily's piece ate one of Rebecca's, which was close to finding its base. Before, they were both close to winning, but now Emily could practically already feel her reward. She could not tell if the vibrator had slowly started ramping up its bursts as she got closer to winning or if it was just her expectation tricking her, but she did not ponder on the matter for long. All she needed now was a total of 5 or a 7 on the dice, and she would win. She had even been preparing to wet herself since the start of the game, in order to ensure that the stimulation would go on long enough for her to climax.

Her hand had a slight tremble to it as she picked up the dice. But, just as she was about to throw, Rebecca, whose face had been getting increasingly red and scrunched up, snapped.

She threw herself on her back and started kicking her legs and flailing her arms, flipping the board in the process and sending all of the pieces flying.

"Ieesss nof feeeih! You are cheating! Wahhhh..."

The other girls looked at her, astonished. Not even Mary and Sophie, in their passionate and often slightly leg-humping ridden hugs, had ever reached such a level of self-debasement. Rebecca was having a full-on tantrum!

As she rolled on her stomach, still emitting a mix between a groan and a scream, Becky's breathing slowly became heavier and more laboured.

The three girls wrinkled their noses at the smell of their playmate "relaxing" herself and turned away. But they all knew that the real reason for their refusal to keep looking at her wasn't the state of their diaper but rather the fact she was climaxing after denying them the same treat. Emily, in particular, was more pissed than the others, having been the closest one to winning. Distracted by her frustration and anger, she accidentally lost control of her bladder and emptied it all at once, essentially ruining her chance of climaxing early and perhaps at all, as Rebecca's moans only got stronger. The mild and short-lived vibrations did little more than make her feel mocked.

No one wanted to play another game after that (as a matter of fact, stacking rings on each other and pushing all of the shapes through the square hole seemed to have become the most interesting thing in the world to Mary and Sophie).

Many hours of pacifier sucking later, interrupted only by the occasional diaper change, they were all strapped into their strollers and brought back to the breakfast room for lunch.

The lunch consisted of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and peas. The peas seemingly constituted an issue for Rebecca, as not only did she want to eat them, but she also objected to them even being present on her plate. Her complaints and refusals to open her mouth even when confronted with the "aeroplane" suddenly ended when she became a lot more agreeable, and her unfocused eyes and slow blinking told Emily the why of that. This did nothing but deepen her jealousy-fuelled disdain of her. Were they TRYING to turn her into a spoiled brat? Why wasn't she getting spanked raw every other day like before...? Her train of thought was derailed by her vibrator briefly turning on. She spent the next few minutes absent-mindedly chewing the food which was handed to her whilst squirming in her high chair.

As the lunch ended, Gabrielle came into the room. Without saying a word, she strapped Rebecca into her stroller and carted her off. Oh, so she WAS in trouble...

Afterwards, they were all given their milk bottles (Emily was none too happy about having to take more aphrodisiacs than she already had swirling in her brain, but the choice was not up to her), and the girls climbed back into their prams and were soon pushed out of the room.

Whilst Mary and Sophie were brought back towards the playroom, Isabella instead pushed Emily in the other direction, down the corridor and through a new door. She struggled to figure out what was happening. She had already been forced to take a bath with Rebecca a couple of days back, and even if it were once again time for a bath, they were always washed in pairs. She did not have to wander for long, as they entered the same room where they had watched Rebecca get taken down a peg a couple weeks back. As she saw the transparent training potty in the corner, she hoped a similar fate was not about to befall her.

Isabella shut the door behind them and stood in front of the stroller. She then squatted until she was almost level with Emily and said:

"You're a little pouty that your game got ruined by Becky, aren't you?" Isabella affectionately caressed her cheek. "Well, how about we go on a little walk to cheer you up?"

The prospect of seeing the outside of the facility would have been of great help to her escape plans. She gathered all the glee she could muster, widened her mouth into a smile while holding her pacifier with her teeth and answered:

"YESHH PWEESE"

"Ok then, champ. We're going for a walk. We just need to change that wet nappy of yours beforehand."

The statement caught Emily by surprise. She looked downwards and noticed that the pattern on her diaper was slightly faded. She didn't quite feel the dampness because, well, being kept in permanent chastity had gotten her used to some amount of wetness being permanently around her crotch. She guessed she must have simply forgotten about the last time she had CHOSEN to wet herself and had simply not noticed.

She climbed onto the changing table and lay down. Isabella strapped the usual belt over her waist and secured her mittens above her head. She then placed the legs of the girl in the usual stirrups.

"Before we go any further, is there anything else you'd like to do in your diaper?"

Emily blushed slightly. She then shook her head in denial. Messing herself was already unpleasant enough without anyone watching.

"Ok then. Let's get this soggy thing off of you..."

Isabella unfastened the tape, balled up the soiled undergarment and disposed of it in a nearby pail.

"If we're going on a walk, there is a new friend you will have to meet. Say hello to your very own... Mister Plug."

Isabella presented Sophie with what was unmistakably a bright yellow butt plug. The object had a shiny metal base and an odd-looking knot about midway through. It was significantly smaller than Rebecca's punishment plug but only slightly less scary for someone who had never received anal penetration.

"Do you want to give Mr Plug a little kiss to help him on his way?"

Emily understood what was being asked of her. She spat out her pacifier and started sucking on the plug, trying to coat as much of it in saliva as possible. She swallowed it up to where she almost started gagging, at which point Isabella pulled it back.

"That's quite enough. Now, deep breath, sweetie!"

Isabella proceeded to slide the plug between her buttcheeks and into her pucker. Thanks to its diminutive girth, it was only slightly uncomfortable.

"Now, let's check if this works..."

Isabella extracted a remote from one of her pockets and flipped a switch. Emily felt something expand inside of her. The caretaker tugged at the plug's base for a while, pulling it in a few different directions, and it did not slip out.

"Locking mechanism seems to work. Now let's put you in a pull-up..."

Whilst a pull-up was definitely an upgrade over her usual nappies, Emily was anything except comfortable with the idea of having an expanding plug "locked" in her anus. At least it wasn't hollow, like the one Rebecca had to wear, but it didn't help her worsening horniness.

"Ok, cutie, now you can climb down."

As Isabella undid the straps keeping her in place, she hopped off the changing table and took a few steps. The pull-up was a lot less bulky than the nappies she had gotten used to, with a Disney princess print on the front. Whilst still a childish attire, it felt like a step up from her previous attire. But as she paced around, the novelty of the pull-ups was rapidly overtaken by another new feeling, slightly deeper down. She would have been lying if she said she didn't like the feeling of the plug moving around in her nethers. She doubted she could have come from it alone, but it was a pleasant distraction.

"Well, I'm glad you like your outside attire. Now, hop into your outside stroller, and let's do a few laps around the building whilst Gabrielle gets the game ready."

Emily was about to ask what game she was talking about when she noticed the new stroller Isabella had retrieved. It was significantly wider, having enough sitting space for two small-frame adults, with a divider in the middle and an individual tray for each of the two seats.

Slightly unsettling were the many straps obviously intended to secure the passengers' hands and feet, and more unsettling still was a round metal circle visible under the padding of both seats.

Sophie took one awkward step towards the vehicle. She gulped, took a deep breath, gave a few comforting suckles to her pacifier, and walked up to the leftmost seat. Isabella grabbed her gently by the shoulders and sat her slowly down. Halfway through the motion, Emily felt a slight shift in the orientation of the plug. Then it was a short flash of discomfort until she sat down with a click.

She figured out what had happened. The base of the plug must have been a magnet, and she was now locked into the stroller. Any attempt to move would be met with discomfort and then pain. She was, in essence, completely helpless even before her mittens were strapped to the pram's tray. Isabella then pulled the tray upwards until it was pushing deep against the silicon plate of her chastity belt. Finally, her legs were secured, one to the left side and another to the centre of the stroller, keeping them spread out. Because, of course they were.

"Everything ok?"

Isabella peeked from beyond the bonnet of the stroller. A flustered Emily could only nod.

"Ok then, let's roll!"

This was the moment Emily had been waiting for. She would remember every single twist and turn leading to the exit, drawing a blueprint which would one day bring her to freedom.

As she took the first turn, something under her clicked. The small metal magnet keeping her locked to the stroller started vibrating, slowly at first, then with more intensity. A few seconds later, the crotch bar pressing between her legs started trembling.

The hunger for a climax which she had been slowly suppressing resurfaced in a few instants. She dropped once more her pacifier as her eyes rolled.

Her mind was torn between the part which wanted to distance itself from the ocean of pleasure slowly rising from her lower cavities and concentrate on memorising the way out of the facility and the part which desperately wanted to take a dive.

For a few seconds, she managed to shut out the pleasure, but by that time the stroller had already reached an exit room, and she had no idea what way it took.

She observed Isabella take a key from her duffle bag and use it to open a door. The door clicked open, and Emily went almost completely blind.

Here you might ask for a bit of an explanation. You see, she had not been exposed to natural sunlight for more than a month. Vitamin D supplements in her milk staved off most of the symptoms of this, but they did not help her eyes stay accustomed to the sun. The blinding light shattered her concentration. As the stroller went over the sill of the door, the plug jolted slightly upwards inside of her body, which was enough to drag her back to where all she could feel was pleasure.

Minutes passed. Emily had no idea of where she was. She was barely conscious of the wheels of the stroller rolling under her.

And yet, something was amiss. She was right on the precipice of a climax, where just a single touch or rub could send her tumbling into an orgasm, but she had no way of achieving that. She tried to lean in against the crotch bar. The plug and the belt stopped her. She tried pushing the dildo further in, but the seat was in the way, and pressing herself into the padding moved her away from the vibrator.

Her last resort was scooching sideways in the seat in an attempt to move the plug around, but she was strapped in too tight for that. Desperation started setting in, and that brought her back to consciousness.

Or awareness, at least. She tried her best to isolate her thoughts from her more primal self and had some success. She noticed the walls of the facility to her right and a perimeter fence to her left. Considering it was likely two or three in the afternoon and her estimated latitude (the trip to the facility couldn't have lasted more than two hours), she was able to use the sun to calculate that that wall of the facility was about facing west. Having established the cardinal directions, she tried looking further around. The bonnet of the stroller blocked most of her vision, so she leaned forward and noticed, to what she estimated to be northeast, a small town, about a couple of kilometres away. She smiled at the discovery. Likely the best place to run to for disguise and cover if she escaped. As she tried to find an exit to the outside perimeter to her left, the stroller went over a rock. The plug jolted slightly, and Emily's mind returned to being focused solely on her ever-approaching yet just out of reach orgasm.

The vibrations stopped. This was the first coherent thought Emily had. Her head was tilted to the side, and a string of saliva connected her mouth to her thigh. She realised she was once again inside, in the same room she had been changed in earlier. She tried to still her laboured breathing. Her eyes had trouble focusing, but she perceived Isabella pushing the tray of the stroller back down. Although now conscious, a burning lust still permeated all of her thoughts. As soon as the harness was undone, she tried bouncing up and down on the plug by leveraging her tied-up arms and legs, which only made her hornier. Isabella placed an open hand on her stomach to keep her still.

Emily started sniffling, then crying. After untying her arms and legs, Isabella picked her up from the stroller. She was limp as a rag doll.

On the changing table, Emily was still shedding tears. Isabella tried caressing her cheeks. She did not stop, but her breathing became more regular. She then placed the pacifier in her open mouth. Emily started suckling on it, slowly, but didn't stop sobbing. As Emily slowly brought parts of her brain back online, she became more and more self-conscious of her situation. A vicious cycle of crying and then the embarrassment caused by the crying causing her to cry more ensued. The pacifier helped but at the same time just added fuel to the fire. The sobbing got louder once more.

Slightly out of ideas, Isabella sighed and put on an exaggerated smile. She placed her hands in front of her face, palms on her eyes, and opened them rapidly, screaming "peekaboo!"

Emily was so shocked she suddenly stopped crying. Isabella repeated the gesture two or three times. Emily started giggling at the absurdity of the situation.

After they had both settled down, and Emily was calmly nursing from her binky, Isabella started changing her pull-up. As it was dragged down her legs, she realised it was positively soaked. She looked towards the stroller. A trail of wet spots marked her path. Either she had wet herself without realising or she was just leaking that much vaginal fluid. Neither of the options was particularly appealing, but she didn't really care anymore. All that she could feel was the cold of the wet wipes on her legs and the heat of Isabella's hands caressing her stomach under her pink shirt.

The door to the room opened, and Gabrielle strolled in, wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses. She turned to Isabella, smiled and asked:

"Is our precious little girl ready for her playdate?"

To be continued