Chapter 3
The turn of a key jolted Quinn awake, unlocking the door to her room. She yawned and blinked. Bright morning light filtered through the wire-mesh screen outside her window, the air still cool in the small room. In the high-security wing, a bed was the only piece of furniture – no desk, no chair, no closet, just a bed and bare walls painted in soft, soothing colors.
Others were up already; she heard steps in the corridor outside. It had to be between six and six thirty if they followed their usual schedule.
Ernesto hurried into the room. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said and threw back the blanket.
“Morning.”
As he started to unbuckle the straps that secured her to the bed, she glanced at her bare breasts. Her nipples looked incomplete without the barbells, rings, or other jewelry she normally wore. As usual, she was diapered and unable to move much: her hands were cuffed to the sides, a wide strap ran over her midsection and another above her breasts, and her legs were spread apart.
“I had the most amazing dream,” she said, yawning. “You were in it, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It was so vivid, I must have creamed my special panties.” She grinned, watching him work. “I was wearing this full-body latex outfit: open crotch, super sexy, like in Gangbang Gimp. Dozens of guys fucking me in every hole, it was glorious. You were one of them; I sucked you off.” Ernesto mumbled something under his breath, but she was undeterred. “Hey, do you like my tits?”
“Sure,” he said absentmindedly, unlocking her left foot. “They’re nice.”
“Just nice? You weren’t even looking.” She stared at the ceiling as he moved to her right foot. “Touch them if you like.”
“Feeling up inmates would be unprofessional, and I’m perfectly happy with my wife’s.”
“I bet she has great tits, too,” mused Quinn. “Handsome guy like you, I’m sure you got yourself someone pretty. How often do you fuck?”
He rolled his eyes. “None of your business.”
Not often enough, apparently.
Freed from all the straps that bound her, she stood up and stretched. Her diaper felt relatively light; she relieved her bladder with a content sigh, rubbing and pinching her nipples. When he didn’t lock on the canvas pants, she smiled.
“Oh, it’s shower day, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But if you make things harder for Janie, you’re gonna regret it. No pissing, no shitting, or you’re gonna spend another day in the straitjacket. And no dessert.”
“Hadn’t planned on it, tough guy.”
Quinn chuckled, clenching her buttocks as she fought back the urge to move her bowels. She really needed to go, but it was a lot more fun grossing out Moira during meals. After sniffing her armpit, she wrinkled her nose – it had been three days. With greasy hair and an itchy head, she yearned for a shower. Other than cake on Wednesday, getting hosed down with warm water was one of the rare luxuries in this place.
Ernesto escorted her to the bathroom at the end of the corridor. It was a large, humid room with white tiles, a few sinks, and no shower stalls. Lillian stood naked in the corner, her hands raised high above her head, cuffed to a chain dangling from the ceiling. Janie, a barely eighteen-year-old nurse assistant, had shower duty again. She wore a yellow apron with matching rubber boots and was soaping up Lillian with a sponge, gently running it along her legs.
“Wow, that’s a fat ass,” said Quinn, looking over. “And I always thought it was just your full diaper.”
Lillian’s head whipped around. She took a few steps forward, but her range of motion was limited. “Fuck you, stinky! Come here and I’m gonna beat the shit out of you!”
Ernesto sighed but said nothing. Quinn smirked as he grabbed her by the arm, dragging her away from Lillian to the opposite corner of the bathroom. In her week on the ward, she had never seen Lillian without a straitjacket and spit mask. The odds of getting into a fistfight with her were negligible.
“That’s something I’d like to see,” shouted Quinn. “You know where to find me.”
According to Moira – admittedly, not the most reliable source of information – Lillian and her boyfriend had robbed a series of banks in the northwest. Thanks to her explosive temper, she was in her third year at Hackney Heights, and if her behavior didn’t improve, she’d serve the rest of her twelve-year sentence on the high-security ward.
“Hands,” said Ernesto, motioning to the ceiling.
Quinn stood up tall and raised her arms, letting him lock the padded cuffs on her wrists. He pulled off her plastic diaper cover and undid the diaper’s adhesive straps, making it drop with a thud. Standing naked in front of him, she spread her legs, pushing her hips forward.
“How about it, big guy? If you fuck me, you can have my pudding.”
“You can have mine for a week,” shouted Lillian, yanking at the chain that anchored her to the ceiling. “Anything for a hard dick!”
Quinn scoffed. “Why take an amateur skank when you can have a professional? Someone with proper tits?”
Lillian spat, but the distance was too great.
“Shut up, both of you,” said Ernesto, rolling up the diaper and depositing it in the bin as he walked out. “Behave!”
Everybody liked sweet little Janie, so they kept their mouths shut, pointedly ignoring one another. When Lillian was finally toweled off, still chained in her corner, another orderly brought Sondra. Unable to close her legs due to her bulky overnight diaper, she waddled into the room, her bare, heavy breasts bouncing.
He secured her to another overhead chain, right next to Quinn, and judging from the stench wafting over, Janie had her work cut out for her. An innocent smile played on Sondra’s lips as if she had nothing to do with it.
With Lillian diapered, canvas pants locked on, and wearing her usual straitjacket and spit mask, the orderly led her out of the bathroom.
Janie shifted her attention to Quinn.
“I really love your hair,” she said, starting the ritual by rinsing Quinn’s long blonde mane with perfectly tempered water before shampooing it. “It’s beautiful. Or will be again, when we’re done.”
“It’s not bad. But I always thought my tits were my best feature.”
Janie gave her a shy smile. “Yeah, they’re really amazing.”
She poured a liquid from a bottle on the sponge, starting to soap them up. Quinn closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation – the rubbing of her breasts, the hand moving further down to her crotch, the extended scrubbing between her legs. A soft moan escaped her lips when she felt the sponge on her clit, but it was over too quickly to get her anywhere.
Damn. I could stand here all day.
“You like shower duty?” asked Quinn when Janie gave her breasts a thorough second pass. Her toes curled and she held her breath every time Janie brushed over her hard nipples.
Janie giggled. “It’s a lot better than changing your poopy diapers, that’s for sure.” As if she had needed a reminder, she scrubbed some more between Quinn’s buttocks. “It wouldn’t be such a mess if you went before bed.”
“As long as I don’t get to wear regular underwear, I go whenever I want.” She pulled herself up by her wrists and put her soapy legs on Janie’s shoulders. “At least you have a job the machines can’t take away.”
“No, no, we’re not doing that,” said Janie. She grabbed Quinn’s ankles and firmly pushed them away. “Let’s rinse you off before you get crazy ideas.”
“Any chance for a happy ending?” asked Quinn, closing her eyes as the warm water ran over her body. “I’m so turned on, it doesn’t take much to get me over the edge.”
Janie giggled again. “I’m sorry, that’s not allowed.”
“Damn. Some of the others, they’re getting themselves off in the common room when Ernesto isn’t watching. And me? I haven’t even touched my snatch in a week. Pretty please?”
“I could get fired. And you’d probably end up in that straitjacket again.”
Quinn exhaled sharply, squinting her eyes. “It’s torture, you know. All alone in my room at night, strapped to the bed, dreaming of Ernesto. Can’t even touch myself, all I can do is leak pussy juice. While you get to go home and fuck your boyfriend.”
“Girlfriend,” said Janie, blushing. “Ernesto is a great guy, but he wouldn’t get me to… uh… leak anything.”
“Huh. Didn’t peg you as a lezzie.”
Janie chuckled, adjusting the showerhead to a high-pressure stream. “How do we look in your opinion?” She aimed the water directly onto Quinn’s engorged clit, making her gasp. “Butch? Short hair?”
“No, no,” said Quinn, squirming until Janie relented. “That’s not what I meant. You know, when I was still making movies, I did plenty of lesbian scenes. Curious Cunts 7, Poopy Princess, stuff like that. Loved it, actually.”
“Was that… was that what I think it was?”
“Yep. In Poopy Princess, I served the princess in the bathroom.” Quinn smacked her lips and winked as Janie’s face turned red. “My place was on the receiving end under her, and I had to clean her up when she was done. It sure as hell wasn’t with a sponge.”
Janie stared at her with wide open eyes. “You were… eating it?”
“Not all of it; that would have been too much. I know it sounds gross, but the smell, the texture – it’s kinda hot. You were never curious?”
“Just because I got used to handling it – with gloves! – doesn’t mean I’d put it into my mouth!” She shuddered and turned off the water. “Seriously.”
“You’re missing out.”
“Everything good here?” asked Ernesto, back with another inmate. He put her in the corner where Lillian had been showered, closing the cuffs on her wrists.
“Yes, all good,” said Janie and quickly picked up a towel. “Almost done.”
Ernesto walked around the growing puddle Sondra was leaving on the floor, the urine trickling down her legs.
“Help me get her dressed?” asked Janie, wrapping Quinn’s wet hair in a towel. “I don’t quite trust this one. I’m a bit nervous when her pants aren’t locked.”
“Sure,” said Ernesto. “She didn’t go overnight, I’m sure something big’s coming.”
Quinn grinned, feeling the pressure in her bowels. “I have a little surprise for Moira. Not so little, actually. I think I’m gonna give it to her at breakfast.”