The Hero's New Costume
The captured superhero tugged at his restraints, but it was no use. He had super-human strength, but these cuffs and chains were hero-proof. When he saw the villain approaching with a pair of bandage scissors, he stopped struggling. It was best to lie still while the villain cut away his spandex hero outfit.
“Allow me to show you your new hero costume,” said the villain. He held up a disposable diaper. It was plain white and very thick.
A motor whirred. A machine lifted the hero's bound ankles. The whirring stopped. There was a crinkling sound, and the hero felt something moving under his hips. The whirring started again, and the machine lowered the hero's rear onto the diaper. The villain lifted the front of the diaper, pulled the leg elastics tight into the hero's groin, and taped the diaper up snugly.
The villain gave the front of the hero's diaper a pat. “Someone's enjoying this!” said the villain. “But we're not done.”
The machine lifted the hero's ankles again. The villain reached up and grabbed a pair of plastic pants that was hanging from a hook. The chains attached to the hero's ankle restraints were already threaded through the leg holes. The villain pulled the plastic pants around the hero's diaper. There was a rattling sound, then a click. The machine let the hero's legs down.
“Now I've really got you,” said the villain. “These plastic pants are made of a bulletproof polymer. Knives and scissors can't cut it. The chain is made of the world's toughest alloy. Bolt cutters won't break it. Only I and my minions can remove your diaper cover. We'll only change you or bathe you when you're securely bound. You'll never escape!”
“I'm sure I could find someone who could get these pants off me,” said the hero.
“No, you couldn't,” said the villain. “And even if you could, you don't want to.”
The hero was silent. Speechless.
“You want this,” said the villain.
“How did you find out...about my...um...my ABDL fantasies?”
“You've been posting online about your little fantasies for years. It was easy to figure out which screen name was yours.”
The villain released the hero's wrist and ankle restraints and helped him to his feet. “How do you like your new hero costume, so far?”
The hero looked down at the diaper. His diaper. “I like it.”
The villain raised his eyebrows.
“I really like it.”
The villain kept silent, eyebrows still raised.
“I really like it, sir?”
“I really like it, Daddy?”
“That's a good boy,” said the villain. “We're still not done.” He held up a midnight blue footed sleeper with lightning bolts on it.
“I love it!” said the hero. “Daddy.”
The villain helped the muscular hero into the sleeper. “Time for your nap, little boy. I'll take you to your crib.”
“I have a crib?” said the hero, a grin on his face.
“Yes. A locking one. And a high chair. Oh, I almost forgot about these. Mittens, made of an electric insulator. Only for a few weeks, while you're learning to be a good little boy. Don't worry, I'll let you use your power later on.”
The hero paused. This was his last chance to resist. With his hands in those mittens, he'd be defenseless. Like a muzzled dog.
He held out his hands and let the villain lock on the mittens. No more zapping anybody. But he was beaming. His dreams were coming true!
“Let's be quiet as we go into the nursery,” said the villain. “Your older brothers are already asleep.”
There were five giant cribs in the nursery, made of metal bars. Two of them were occupied by strong, sleeping men in footed pajamas. One of the footed sleepers was red with pictures of swirling orange and yellow flames. The other was baby blue with pictures of clouds. The hero recognized the man in blue. A crime-fighting storm summoner who'd disappeared without a trace three years ago.
The hero climbed into one of the empty cribs—his crib—and lied down. There were bars on top of the crib. The villain pulled up the side of the crib. A lock snapped shut.
“Sleep well, little boy,” whispered the villain.
“Thank you, Daddy!” the hero whispered back.
As the villain tiptoed out of the room, he suppressed a wicked laugh. He had a fantasy, too: a room full of defeated heroes in cages. Heroes who would never, ever escape. Who cares what kept them there?