The Abatement of Kyle Trinter, Chapter 15 (Patreon)

Chapter 15

When Kyle woke up the next morning, he came to slowly, gradually becoming aware of the blank white ceiling high above him.  His entire body was sore from Martha’s voracious assault on his nether-regions from the previous night…but really, that in and of itself wasn’t anything new.  What was unique about last night was that she had kept going, even after he had passed out, hungrily sucking on his cock and draining every last drop of cum that his outsized, outmatched, and outclassed body could muster.  But of course, Kyle had no idea what had happened after he felt the darkness descending over his eyes, his orgasmic squeals drowned out by Martha’s hungry growling as she snarled into his cock.  And all of this after she had breastfed him so much of her milk, letting him suck on her fat, drooling nipple, a nipple so huge that it completely filled his mouth, shooting that thick, warm milk down his throat as she petted his head with her gigantic hand, scratching the back of his neck with those ferocious black-clawed nails.  As he blinked up at the ceiling, Kyle could only relive the sheer transporting pleasure of gulping down that milk, of succumbing to Martha’s power, of just letting go…and that blowjob at the end of the night, it had been especially intense, because she was rewarding him, commending him for being such a good boy when his parents came over –

His parents!!

Kyle snapped fully awake, and he felt his breath catch in his chest.  His parents had come over last night, and, abruptly, the crazy memories came flooding back into his brain, a deluge of shock, embarrassment, and pain.  Martha had breastfed him in front of his parents!  Changed his diaper!  And worst of all, she had claimed him as her “son” in front of them, severing his connection with them, point-blank telling his own mother that she, Martha, had usurped her position for good…and Kyle had just lain there, sunken deep in the warm, voluptuous flesh of Martha’s thighs, her nipple stretching his cheeks, and taken it.  No, he hadn’t just “taken it” – he had visibly assented to it!  He could hear Martha’s immense, feminine voice now: “Your son is mine now…isn’t that right, dear?”

He had nodded.  With his own parents watching, he had nodded his head.  And they had turned heel and left, recognizing that there was nothing that they could emotionally access in their son anymore.  Now the next morning, as Kyle thought back to these awful events, he felt a shame, a disgust, rising up from deep within his stomach, a revulsion and a repugnance for what he had become like he had never experienced before.  There was “post-nut clarity,” and then there was this.  Minutes passed as Kyle just stared up at the ceiling, the whole terrible crush of last night’s memories seeming to build up on his chest, pressing him down into the soft bedding of his crib.

His crib…

‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ Kyle thought desperately, the panic setting in.  ‘Martha’s turned me into this…this pathetic little child, this…baby…and I’m not a baby!  I’m an adult man who…who got confused, who got manipulated by this conniving, evil woman!  I don’t want to live here anymore; I don’t want to be around her anymore; I want her out of my life!  I can put all this behind me!  I can go to my parents and tell them that…that she drugged me, or something…and even though it’s not really true, it’s…I mean, it’s kind of true, isn’t it!?  She’s been using her…her body, and, uh…and her crazy mind tricks to just…to mislead me, to confuse me…to make me feel like I couldn’t escape from her.  And the violence too!  Oh god…yeah – I can use that when I’m explaining myself to my parents!  I can tell them that she was violent with me, and…and forced me to do all these things!  That would work…that would be believable!  And then I could finally, uhm…finally start a new life…somewhere else…far away from here, and…and put all of this behind me!’

It took Kyle about 10 minutes to reach this mental stage, where he had, once again, somehow managed to talk himself into a rational explanation for how he had gotten into this position in the first place.  As his mind feverishly worked, he was still looking up at the white ceiling, disconnected from his body minus the dull, aching pain he felt throughout his muscles.  When at last he had arrived at the conclusion that he needed to plot a way out of Martha’s house, he finally “snapped back” into his body and decided that the first step was to get out of this ridiculous crib.  He realized that he hadn’t heard Martha anywhere in the house – none of her customary, cheery whistling from the kitchen, none of her heavy workouts from the living room, and, crucially, none of her heavy footsteps on the wooden floorboards.

A hope rose in Kyle’s chest.  Maybe…just maybe…Martha was out of the house!  Perhaps she had gone shopping or something, and, flush with the success from the previous night, she had left him home alone, confident that her newly-proclaimed “son” now knew his true place and could be trusted to not escape.  This could be his chance!  No doubt she had deadbolted the doors as usual, but he could get out through a window or something…and if she had bolted those too, he could always just break it!  His heart quickened as he moved to stand up and begin his escape.

But when he tried to move his arms and legs, he found that he couldn’t move…not one inch.  In desperation, he looked down at his body, and found that he had been tightly swaddled in white cloth, so that his entire figure looked like a helplessly-wriggling cocoon.

“Wh-what!?” he choked out, squirming around as he tried to free his arms.  But Martha had swaddled him so tightly that, after a minute’s struggle, it had become clear that he had no hope of freeing himself.  He switched tactics, wildly attempting to kick his legs out of the compact cloth.  But the result was only more vigorous squirming; he could barely even move his toes, let alone his feet or legs.  How had he not realized that he had been swaddled up like this!?  He had actually lain awake in bed – for ten whole minutes – without knowing.

‘It’s because this is your natural state,’ said a voice in his head.  Whose voice, though?  Martha’s voice?  His voice!?  It was becoming impossible to distinguish between the two.  It wasn’t just that Martha had physically dominated and subjugated him – over the last few weeks and months, ever since she had laid eyes on him, Martha had slowly, inexorably broken him down mentally, so that he wasn’t even sure anymore who he was…or if he actually had a “personality” anymore.  When he tried to delve deep into himself, into the labyrinth of his own thoughts, her huge, smiling visage was waiting for him around every corner, and behind every closed door.  Everywhere he tried to turn…there she was.  It was a horrible, crushing thing to realize, making him feel completely helpless and empty; and yet, at the same time, her complete dominance of his entire person, physical and mental, made him so aroused, so transported by a desire to latch his lips onto one of those fat, jutting nipples, or to have those plush, hungry lips wrap themselves around his cock and suck his cum straight out of his defeated body, over and over, until he passed out.  As he lay there, helplessly swaddled in the crib, Kyle tried his hardest to pretend that Martha had somehow tricked him, or corrupted him, where he had been pure before.  But there was no getting around it now.  She hadn’t “corrupted” anything in him – no, she had exposed everything in him.  His submissive nature, his desire to be dwarfed and dominated, his longing to be teased, bullied, and humiliated, and, most importantly, his fervent wish to be subjugated by a huge, overbearing, powerful female who would treat him like her own long-lost son, who would breastfeed him, change his diaper, and otherwise treat exactly like the child he was.

‘This is what I've come to,’ Kyle thought miserably, staring down helplessly at his captive body.  ‘This is all I am…’

For over an hour more, he just lay there, despairing, allowing the crushing reality of his present condition to fully sink into his bones.  There was no hope of escaping…Laura was a distant memory…the mere idea of working a job or having a girlfriend now seemed absurd…and even the shocked expressions of his parents were beginning to fade in his mind.  What did it matter that they were shocked – he had a new caretaker, one who owned him, body and soul.

But the longer Kyle lay there, the more he felt something else rising to the surface of his mind, something that stood in opposition to this overwhelming sensation of despair.  He had realized one important thing: he wasn’t happy about any of this.  Yes, he could submit to his new life, his new identity, and his new “mother,” but the act of submission didn’t make him feel happy, or even begrudgingly content.  No – it made him feel hopeless, miserable, and despairing.  And, strangely, noticing these awful feelings in himself gave him an injection of hope.

‘If I was actually a true submissive,’ he thought to himself, ‘If I actually wanted to be Martha’s “baby,” then wouldn’t I be happy now?  I mean, maybe I wouldn’t be happy at first, since it would take me time to get used to, but wouldn’t I at least feel…kind of good?  Maybe unsure, or nervous…but not like this!  Not this horrible misery!  It’s like my mind is trying to remind itself that this isn’t who I am!  And…it’s…it’s NOT who I am!  I’m Kyle!  Not “Kyla!”  And…and I’m an ADULT, who CAN work a job, who CAN go out with Laura, who CAN pay rent and pay bills and…and do ALL the other stuff that adults can do!  Martha’s just been…uhhh…what’s the term…gaslighting me!  Yeah, that’s it.  Gaslighting me…the whole time!  And I’ve been falling for it!’

It had taken him a while to work his mind around to this conclusion, but after an hour he had finally managed to do it.  There were still murmurings in the back of his mind, whispering to him that this WAS what he really wanted, and that his misery was all the result of his “adult” self trying in vain to assert itself against the reality of his true nature…that Martha hadn’t yet fully “trained” him to stop resisting.  But, for the moment, Kyle managed to push these misgivings out of his mind, and to settle instead on the only thing that gave him hope: somehow escaping Martha’s clutches.  He knew that he had no hope of overpowering her physically…not the slightest hope, at least as things stood now.  He would have to gain about 40 pounds and train for weeks or months just to get into anything approaching an adequate physical condition to oppose her.  And even then…he shuddered to think…

‘No,’ he thought, feeling the weight pressing on his chest, the weight of what he needed to do.  ‘I’ve got to somehow convince her to let me go.  I can’t try and trick her…she’s insane, but she’s not stupid.  She’ll smell out anything clever I try to do, and then…she’ll punish me.’

He couldn’t believe he had reached this point, but right now, he could think of no other way out.

‘I’ve got to beg her,’ he thought, staring up at the ceiling.  ‘I’ve got to get on my knees and just…BEG her to let me go.  I’ve got to say that this has been all my fault, and that I’ve made a terrible mistake, and that…that I’m not the right pick to be her “son,” that it doesn’t make me happy, and that I’m pleading with her to let me go.’

At first, this plan didn’t seem good at all.  Kyle was afraid, terribly afraid, of how Martha would react.  She might hurt him.  Or…even worse…she might decide to just END him, right then and there.  But the more Kyle thought about it, the more he felt that it was a chance he had to take.  In any case, he didn’t really think she would go that far…would she?!

‘But even if she does,’ he thought grimly as he stared at his swaddle, ‘It would be better than living like…like THIS.’

Right around this time, Kyle noticed something that had been steadily more and more apparent the longer he lay there: Martha wasn’t home.  It had been well over an hour since he had woken up, and he hadn’t heard the slightest sound from her.  Either she was home and was asleep (not likely, since she always woke up very early and never napped), or she was home and was sitting somewhere very quietly, not moving an inch…this option seemed especially unsettling, and so Kyle tried not to dwell on it too much.

‘No, no, she’s huge,’ he thought to himself.  ‘If she were home, I’d have heard SOMETHING, at least…she can’t even walk or shift slightly in a chair without making noise.  She must be out running errands.  Plus, of course, it’d be just like her to swaddle me up like this and leave the house…like, in a show of power over me.’

All he could do now was wait for her to get home, and Kyle used this time to try and practice his pleading pitch to Martha for his freedom.  As he suspected before he started, though, practicing didn’t help too much, nor did it make the task seem any less daunting and terrifying.  But his resolve had solidified – this was what he was going to do.

Finally, in a moment that made his stomach roil in a sickening clench, Kyle felt Martha’s footsteps as she walked up to her front porch.  He didn’t even hear her footsteps first – he felt them, even though the crib he was in was raised up off the floor.  It didn’t matter; the four wooden legs of the crib carried the deep vibrations of her huge platform heels…a few seconds later, Kyle could be sure that she was wearing those monstrous 6-inch boots.  The dull, thudding energy of her footsteps was all he needed to hear; the next moment, she was unlocking all the numerous deadbolts on her front door.  Instinctively, Kyle squirmed in place, trying one last time to somehow free himself, but it was all useless.  And in any case (as he reminded himself), that wasn’t part of his current plan.  Despite the sick feeling in his stomach, and despite the rapid cadence his heart was hammering away in his chest, he had to keep his cool…he HAD to.

“Helloooooo!” came Martha’s deep, sing-song voice from the foyer, followed by the powerful hammer-stroke of the heavy front door shutting.  From the rustling sound that accompanied her movements, it sounded like she was carrying a load of plastic bags.  “Is my little Kyla still asleep?  Hrrmmmm?  After SUCH a big night, I bet she issssss!  I bet she…”

But Martha cut herself off as she strode into the living room.  At a fearsome 7’1 in her platform boots, she could see from across the room that Kyle was wide awake.  She stopped for an instant, blinking, and for a second, Kyle actually thought that she looked surprised.  He had never seen that expression on her face before, and even witnessing a flicker of it gave him a much-needed injection of confidence.  But when he took in her whole figure, that confidence faded as quickly as Martha’s look of surprise – an almost-impossibly tight red t-shirt was stretched across her enormous torso, threatening to tear down the middle of her huge, weighty breasts.  The red t-shirt was gigantic, in and of itself, but it was stretched so thin that Kyle could see the warm, fleshy expanse of her belly poking out underneath.  Martha had huge, powerful muscles, of course, but she also had a luscious, feminine shape, which somehow made her look even more imposing. That, and the way that her thick, powerful thighs were squeezed into her skin-tight black jeans.  Kyle could literally see her massive ass bulging out behind her, even though she was facing him.  She grinned warmly down at him and shifted her weight to one booted foot.  The ten to fifteen plastic bags on her big forearm rustled ominously.

“Had a good sleep, little baby?” Martha asked sweetly.  “I certainly hope so – you were tuckered out last night, haha!”

“I…I did…y-yes,” nodded Klyle.  He could already feel his resolve slipping, but he tried his best to shove down his fears.

“Mmmm, that’s wonderful to hear,” Martha purred, shifting her weight again slightly as she reached her free hand down to the bottom of her tight red shirt.  Kyle felt his heart skip a beat as she slowly, sensually, lifted her shirt up, revealing her fleshy stomach, and then…BOING! Her left tit came bounding out, happy to be free.  She cupped it in her huge hand, bouncing it up and down and winking at him as the tip of her massive, engorged nipple started oozing milk.

“I think someone’s ready for her breakfast,” Martha cooed.  She slowly approached Kyle’s crib, not even bothering to put the plastic bags down, and, in one swift, clean motion, scooped him up out of the crib with one arm and brought his mouth up to her fat nipple.  Kyle didn’t resist…he couldn’t.  Even with all his pent-up resolve, with that drooling nipple in front of his mouth, his instincts took over, and he took it in his mouth and sucked, his eyes rolling back in his head, until he was full.  But when Martha laid him back down in his crib, and began to unwrap his swaddle, all Kyle’s emotions from before rushed back into his mind.  It was now or never.

“P-please…please…Martha…” he began, his voice shaking as he climbed out of his loose swaddle and fell on his knees before her in his crib.  Martha stepped back a bit, staring down at him carefully.  She could tell he was about to say something he had been thinking about for a while.

“Yes, baby?” she asked sweetly.

“I’m…I’m b-begging you Martha…please…” Kyle pleaded.  His heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest; his lungs were burning like fire.  But he kept going.  “I...I’ve made a mistake…a t-terrible mistake!  It’s not y-your fault at all!  It’s all my fault…all of it!  I n-never wanted this…any of this.  I got confused, I–I…I thought I felt a certain way but…b-but I don’t actually feel that way, and…and I don’t think I’m the right person for…t-to, to fill the role that you want from me.  I’m begging you Martha – please…PLEASE let me go!  I’m not what you want…I’m not!  Y-you…you deserve someone else who…who WANTS this kind of thing.  Please…please let me walk out of here…please…”

As his pleading became more and more animated, Kyle actually clasped his hands together and held them up to Martha like he was praying to her.  And, in a very real sense, that’s exactly what he was doing.  There was nothing to prevent her from keeping him there forever, from hurting him, or even from taking his life away.  In every sense, he was begging, pleading, praying, to a higher authority, to an entity so much greater and more powerful than himself.  For long moments after he forced out those final words, Kyle held this position, kneeling in his crib, his shaking hands clasped together and outstretched towards his gigantic captor, hanging by a thread of sanity on her response.

Martha just stood there, unmoving.  Her expression was impossible to decipher.  At first, it seemed to Kyle that her dark eyes turned black and burned like coals…but then he wondered if that was just all in his imagination.  As the silent seconds ticked by, he could feel himself becoming more and more terrified.  This was NOT what he had expected at all.  If anything, he had expected her to get angry with him, even violently so…or perhaps to be hurt that he would actually want to leave her.  But this…this silence…and her expressionless face…it was giving him the creeps.  It was making him feel like something else was going on.  Something that he couldn’t even begin to guess at.

“Okay sweetheart,” Martha said suddenly, her voice as sweet as ever.  “Whatever you say.”

Kyle was stunned.  He just mouthed at the air for a few moments, like a fish out of water, before he finally found his voice.

“S-So you’re…you’re okay with…letting me go?!”  A wild hope had suddenly risen up in his chest.

“Of course,” Martha said simply, shrugging as she smiled a bit sadly down at him.  “I’d really hate to hold you here against your will, Kyle.  It’s just that, your constant arousal around me, you know?  And the way you just seemed to LOVE drinking my milk…?”

“Y-yeah…it was, uhhh…I was…I know it was a l-little confusing,” Kyle stammered, overcome with joy.  He exhaled and, for the first time in a long time, there was a big smile on his face.  “I was confused…so confused…s-so like I said, uhhh…not your fault at all!”

“Mhm…well,” Martha sighed a little regretfully, reaching into one of the plastic bags and pulling out a small pink dress, adorned with little synthetic roses and bumblebees.  “I guess you won’t be wanting to try on any of the clothes I bought for you this morning, huh?”

Kyle blinked at the little dress shining in the late morning sun streaming in through the windows.  He felt another pull on his conscience, but this time it was from the other direction.

‘Look at all those bags,’ he thought to himself, his eyes going over them.  ‘They’re full of clothes that she bought for me…she spent all that money…on me.’  And in that moment, in an extraordinary twist, Kyle felt sorry for Martha.  She cared for him, she really did.  And if he left her, that care would be gone – no one would cook for him like she did, or feed him like she did.  No one would make him cum like she did.  No one would EVER devote such complete time and energy to making him feel good…and safe...and happy.

‘But I’m NOT happy!’ he reminded himself, trying to shake off these remnant doubts swirling around in his mind.  ‘This ISN’T what I want!’

“N-no…uhm…I’m s-sorry, Martha,” Kyle stuttered.  “But that’s, uhh…no thank you.”

“Oh that’s alright,” said Martha cheerily, putting the dress back in the bag.  “I can return all these, no problem.”

Kyle could hardly believe his ears as he shakily climbed down out of the crib.  He still had a diaper on, and an oversized white shirt from the previous night, but he barely even noticed that now.  All he was concerned with, in this moment, was getting out of Martha’s house.  But when his bare feet reached the floor, he found himself staring up at Martha’s huge, looming form, in her tight red shirt, thigh black jeans, and those fearsome 6-inch platform heels.  She TOWERED over him, to the point where he was staring straight forward into the exposed flesh of her lower stomach, peeking out underneath her shirt.  He swallowed nervously, mustering up the courage to actually make the move to leave.  Meanwhile, Martha just stood there, smiling down at him, waiting patiently.

“So I guess I’ll…uhh…I’ll just be on my way then,” Kyle mumbled awkwardly.  This whole situation was so weird, so totally unlike anything he had prepared himself for – it felt bizarrely anti-climactic.  After hesitating once…then twice…he finally marshaled the courage to step towards the door.  But then he felt a cold shadow pass over him, and he saw Martha’s huge legs stepping in between him and his freedom.  He looked up at her, confused; in an instant, the panic had returned.

“Oh no, Kyle,” smiled Martha, slowly shaking her head.  She had put all the plastic bags down, and now she had her hands on her hips.  Kyle noticed that she  had painted her long, claw-like nails blood-red today.  “I think you’ve misunderstood me.”

“I…I have?” he squeaked.  It felt like his joy had been made of tissue paper, and was now caught in a torrential downpour.

“Mhm,” intoned Martha meaningfully.  “Look, Kyle – I’ve got no problem with you wanting to leave.”

“Y-you…you don’t?”  Kyle was totally stupefied.  He didn’t know whether to hope or despair.  In the meantime, he just held his breath.

“Absolutely not,” Martha declared matter-of-factly.  “But Kyle…come on.  Let’s be real here.  I can’t just let you out into the world like this!”

“Oh…the, uh…haha, right, the diaper!” Kyle laughed strangely.  “I can just change out of it and –”

“No Kyle,” interrupted Martha, “It’s not just the diaper I’m talking about.  It’s everything.  I’ve spent the last few weeks totally BABYING you!  When was the last time you ate solid food?  When was the last time you had any nutrition except my breastmilk, for godsakes!?  And just LOOK at you!  It’s not just that you’re short, Kyle – you’re short AND scrawny…super-skinny!  I can’t just let a little waif like you, who’s gotten used to my babying, out into the world!  You’ll get eaten alive out there, Kyle!  The real world is a harsh, unforgiving place!  Oh no…I’m not going to let that happen to you.”

“Th-then…then what are…what are you going to do!?” asked Kyle desperately.

“It’s very simple,” Martha stated, stepping towards him even closer, so that their size difference was even more pronounced.  “I’m going to spend the next couple weeks toughening you up!  You want to live in the real world?  Fine by me!  But I’m going to make sure that you’re ready for it – I’m gonna put you through a strict conditioning program, Kyle.  Lifting weights, lots of push-ups and sit-ups, and so forth.  And I’m gonna feed you a lot of good, hearty food – real people food – that’ll make you big and strong!  And then, after a couple weeks, when you’ve put on some good muscle weight…well then…you’re free to go.”

Once again, Kyle could hardly believe his ears.  The last few minutes had been such an emotional roller coaster for him that he almost felt dizzy.  Part of him was disappointed that he couldn’t leave right then and there.  But another part of him was relieved that Martha actually seemed serious about letting him go.  And all that conditioning, and good hearty food?  Well…that didn’t sound so bad, did it?  It was almost too perfect to believe, but as he stared up at Martha, she extended her huge hand down toward his, a perfectly genuine expression on her face.

“So what do you think, Kyle?” she asked, cracking a grin.  It was real – for the first time, Kyle actually felt like Martha was talking to him like an adult.  “Do we have a deal?”

He hesitated, and then reached his hand up.  Her hand engulfed his completely, squeezing with firm, warm pressure.  This time, Kyle was the one who was smiling.

“Deal.”

A number of hours before, in the dead of night, across town, Laura had been hunched over the desk in her bedroom, when she suddenly sat bolt upright.  For many nights on end she had been following the leads of James Pinkerton Legacy Group, that strange real estate firm based in London.  It had been dead end after dead end, and she had been on the verge of giving up hope, when she finally received an email straight from a secretary at the firm.  It read:

Ms. Abernathy:

Per your request, invoking the 2000 Freedom of information Act, I am legally obligated to honor your request and provide you with the following information.  172 McCafferty Drive, single-family residence, was purchased 9 years ago by one Martha J. Bartel, with stated occupation as an employee of Voleria Circus.  No down payment or mortgage; home paid for upfront in cash.

Thank you,

Jennifer Kline

While reading this message, Laura’s heart had skipped several beats, and she didn’t breathe until the end, when she let out a huge exhale and reclined back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling.  She finally had a name…and a lot more.