Chapter Text
George doesn’t know how long he’s been trapped in Billy’s basement. He’s not sure how many times Billy has fucked him, or if anybody is looking for him on the outside world still. It must’ve been months by now, months of being brought food, of being trapped in a basement decorated like an apartment, of having to piss and shit into a bucket.
The humiliation never seemed to fade, and Billy seemed to relish in every embarrassed look on George’s face. He seemed to enjoy breaking him down little by little, and George hated that he truly was getting broken down. He no longer screamed and cried every time Billy fucked him. He didn’t protest about pet names.
It was horrifyingly easy to accept Billy’s care. He looked just like Paul, after all. He spoke to him like Paul. Occasionally, when George was really good Billy would let him play guitar and they’d practice like they used to when they were teens. When he and Paul were teens. Not Billy. It was easier to not think of it, to just let himself see Paul taking care of him.
Maybe he’s gotten too relaxed however, allowing himself to dream actual dreams at night, rather than just nightmares of getting raped. His dream starts nice, with George sitting in a colorful room with his bandmates at his side. Everyone laughing and joking together, his Paul stealing gleeful glances at George when he tells a joke.
However a pressure begins to grow in his bladder, and George in his dream presses his thighs together. It all blurs when he stands, the scenery shifting incoherently until he’s in a dingy bar bathroom— Hamburg, he can recognize. He feels drunk, music pulsing in his ears as he wobbles his way into a stall. Shutting his eyes for just a moment as fingers find his zipper and pull down ever so slowly, making him squirm as he stands.
“Shh, just let go, Georgie,” comes Paul’s voice, and George realizes belatedly that it’s Paul undoing his zipper with slender fingers that've defiled him more times than he could count. Paul guides him from his pants, aiming him into the bowl. “Go potty for Daddy.” Paul’s voice drops into a tone Billy reserved for ordering him around, and George shudders before obeying.
The stream starts strong, hitting the side of the bowl, though no sound accompanies it. George stares down at his crotch, at the shifting hands holding his cock as relief floods his body.. followed by a sticky feeling.
It creeps up on him, the world blurring before his eyes. A single blink and the hands are gone, cock now laying limp against his thighs while dribbling piss that runs down his thighs. The urge to whine overwhelms him at the sticky feeling grows and grows until George opens his eyes again—
He finds a white ceiling floating above him. George squints, disoriented before the feeling truly hits him. He had just pissed himself in bed. He scrambles up, tossing off the covers frantically to view his soaked crotch. George stumbles out of bed, staring at the mess with abject horror before his eyes land on Billy sitting in a chair near the bed, just watching him.
His first instinct is to grab the blanket and cover his wet pajamas. His second is to begin crying, more terrified over what it meant about George that he could relax to the point of pissing himself in his captors basement than what Billy would do to him for it.
“‘M sorry,” he chokes out, trying to wake himself up enough to explain, “I dunno— what h-happened—“
“‘S okay, sweets,” Billy smiles, just like Paul, before standing up. He makes his way over, collecting the sheets and blankets. “Just a little accident, that’s all.” He assures him, and George nods, looking away. It’s humiliating, but when Billy finally wraps his arms around George he feels himself melt, and it makes him feel utterly disgusted with himself.
“In fact, I prepared for this sort of thing,” Paul— fuck, Billy, coos at George, who glances up at him with half scared eyes. Prepared for this? How could one prepare for bed wetting? Now that he looked closer at Billy, it was easy to pick out traces of satisfaction. The idea makes George shudder. His eyes follow Billy as he walks to a corner of the room.
He pulls out something from the cabinet. George’s never bothered opening it before, but maybe he should’ve because the contents seemed rather..
He stares in confusion when Billy rolls out a mat onto the ground, standing still in his damp, cold pajama bottoms before Billy gestures elegantly for him to come.
“C’mere, baby,” Billy commands softly, and George hesitates before stiffly walking over. He stands in front of Billy who knelt, letting him pull down his wet pants, even though he was left entirely bare because of it. Billy grasps his hips lightly after George steps out of the soiled cloth, guiding him down to kneel on the mat.
“What’s this for?” George asks, throat feeling dry as he watches Billy stand to grab out some items from the cabinet. It feels like his heart stops entirely when he sees him take out a nappy, setting it on the ground next to baby powder. He scrambles back up, or does his best to, but Billy’s hand finds his hair with a swift movement and he yanks, making George cry out and crumple back to the ground.
“Y’were always the youngest,” Billy hums, kneeling back down. He grabs George’s squirming shoulders and pushes him down against the mat. Tears prick in George’s eyes, scalp still stinging. “And I always had this fantasy,” he confesses, eyes flitting up to meet George’s afraid gaze, “of turning you into my baby,” Billy informs him, and George manages to struggle his way up.
“I’m not a baby though!” George snaps, desperately wishing to cover himself with something. He can’t even use his arms since they’re holding him up, keeping Paul— Billy. From pushing him back down.
“Well you had an accident like one,” Billy says like it’s simple, making George’s face go red up to his ears. Before he can say another word, George cries out,
“That was an accident! It doesn’t mean a thing!” He exclaims, stumbling over his words to try and convince Billy to unmake up his mind, “Please, Billy,” he begs, tears threatening to overflow when Billy’s hands find his shoulders again, pushing him back down with an insistent force that he can’t overcome. “‘S humiliating,” he blabbers, “Y’can’t do this to me— you—“ he blinks back tears desperately. Billy spreads his thighs, pushing his knees up before taking out a baby wipe. He wipes George’s cock and balls clean before taking a new one out to clean up between his cheeks, and then another to wipe up his thighs.
“Now yer cryin’ like one too!” Billy laughs, sounding so pleased with himself, “just listen to Daddy,” he says placatingly, but it’s not enough to stop George from trying to shut his thighs. Billy grabs his thighs again, looping an arm underneath his knees and shoving them up before he applies a generous amount of powder to his bottom that immediately feels wrong to George. He tries to hold back his tears. “Y’don’t need to be potty trained anymore, Georgie,” he murmurs, “Y’don’t need to be anythin’ but mine.”
“Don’t want that,” George croaks, resorting to squeezing his eyes shut as Billy straps him into a snug nappy. He didn’t know that they even made nappies that big. Billy then grabs out something else that looks much scarier, and before George can put up too much of a fight, Billy puts it on him. Horror hits him when it locks over his diaper, with an actual key.
Billy pats his hips, helping him sit up carefully. George opens his watery eyes, staring at Billy with a mix of resentment and disbelief. Billy just grins and presses a kiss to his forehead.
“See? Not so bad. You’ll get used to it.” Billy assures him, standing up. He helps George up, and immediately it’s so much worse. He feels utterly exposed, wearing just a diaper. It felt perverted and absolutely disgusting. There was a mirror in the far corner of the room, and George does everything he humanly can not to look.
Billy puts everything away before grabbing out some clothing for George. George lets him dress him like always, that part of their day routine from the beginning. Had Billy been planning this from the start? To turn him into a baby that couldn’t even control when he pissed? How many things had George allowed unknowingly that gave Billy more control over him?
Well it didn’t really matter since if he didn’t obey Billy would punish him. The better he behaved, the more freedom he got. It was easy to tell himself that it was the only reason he was good, to try and escape, but it was sickening to realize that he enjoyed the way Billy brushes his hair. He enjoys being bathed and praised. The thought nearly makes him gag.
Billy gets him into his pants that bulge hideously with the nappy beneath them, and then helps him into a sweater as well. George looks down at them, suddenly questioning every little action all over again. The colors were lighter, a nice light blue sweater and khaki pants. He’s been dressed in this before, yet never realized how much younger it make him look, or how there was extra room that seemed to fit the nappy perfectly.
“There we go,” Billy chirps, either obvious or uncaring to George’s slight breakdown. He wished he could say that he hated Billy, but he reminded him too much of Paul to truly let himself despise him. “Such a good boy for Daddy,” he says like it’s nothing, and George can’t swallow his pride.
“I’m not—“ he takes a breath, “I can’t call ye that,” he forces out, trying to stay calm even as Billy directs an emotionless gaze to him that makes his nerves feel on edge. It’s utterly blank, taking in the information. George feels the urge to keep talking, and so he rambles, “‘s just weird. I don’t wanna.” He admits, heart sinking with the silence.
Billy gives a small “hm” before turning around and locking the cabinet up tight with a different key that he pockets. Somehow his silence is worse than a punishment. George’s eyes follow him anxiously as he scoops up the dirty sheets and blankets under one arm, and then to his absolute horror takes the bucket as well. He flashes a tight lipped grin that barely concealed his anger before disappearing up the stairs. The door shuts hard with a kick to the foot, and then locks, leaving George alone.
He’s not alone for very long, curled into the corner chair in his room when Billy comes back down to make the bed with new sheets. There’s no new bucket however. He sits in the corner as Billy makes the bed, just watching.
“Billy—“ he tries, only for Billy to disappear back up the stairs for another thirty minutes. He lowers his head to his knees, staring at the plush carpet in his prison. Tears threaten to overflow, but he keeps them contained, not wanting any evidence to support Billy's point. He wasn’t a baby. He was 23.
Billy returns with lunch, and George pulls himself up from the chair to join Billy at the corner table. The silence is suffocating, with George staring at his plate the entire meal, and Billy staring right at George with an intensity that made him want to cry and apologize. He hasn’t done anything wrong though, George reminds himself.
Billy takes the plates, leaving him alone again. He does his best to ignore it, he really does. He reads magazines and books, trying to keep his mind off Billy to pass the time. He catches his glimpse in the mirror a few times, disgust curling in his gut when he sees the way the nappy shifts beneath his pants.
What was worse was the growing pressure in his bladder, and the fact he had no bucket to relieve himself in anymore. He couldn’t get the nappy off since it locked, and even if he could there was nowhere to go. George sits back down in the corner, gripping his thighs with trembling hands as he tries to control himself.
It was hard though. He hasn’t gone to the bathroom since the incident that morning, yet at lunch he had at least two cups of water. It’s been hours since that. George tries to bring his knees to his chest only for the pressure to increase, he winces and lowers his legs again, and then after another moment he stands and begins to pace like a caged animal.
He was a caged animal after all, kidnapped and forced into entertainment for Billy, who claimed he loved him. Tears burn in George’s eyes as his pacing gets faster and faster, the ache growing by the minute, and he forces himself to stop.
Billy was going to get what he wanted. George knew that. It just seemed like some undeniable law of the universe, that Paul got what he wanted, and it seemed as though it transferred over to Billy. George was going to piss himself because it’s what Billy wanted. He had no choice.
He stares at the ground miserably, sitting back in his chair. George squeezes his eyes shut and does his best to pretend he’s in a normal bathroom. He pictures his own at his old house, trying to gain some semblance of control over his situation, and he forces his muscles to relax.
A trickle of urine hits the inside of his nappy, making him grimace, but he doesn’t tense. He lets out every drop of urine he has inside of him until he can’t pee anymore, and then opens his eyes. To his dismay, the room was still the same, and the liquid felt warm and uncomfortable against his crotch. It seemed to leak down to his balls, and then into his crack, and George stands abruptly to try and stop himself from sitting in his own mess.
He groans in disgust when he takes his first step and hears the diaper shift, immediately heading towards the cabinet in hopes of opening it up. He yanks at the door, panic and embarrassment growing by the minute. He just needed the key so he could get this damn thing off. He rattles the knob forcefully, trying to pull it open. It doesn’t work.
George lets go, instead refocusing to get his pants off. After that’s accomplished he grabs at the locked belt that bands around his crotch, pushing and pulling at that to no avail. He looks around, getting more frantic the longer he sits in his own piss. He finds a pencil next, trying to pry it open, to pick the lock. If there was any potential success in that idea it was quickly ruined by the shaking of his hands.
He sinks onto the bed, half afraid of the nappy soaking through onto the clean blankets. He fiddles with the hem of his sweater, tugging it down over his crotch with a great amount of shame as he contemplates calling for Billy.
If he called for him, Billy would change him. It would be humiliating though for George, and satisfying for Billy, and George doesn’t exactly want to give him that. However if he didn’t.. he was stuck sitting in his own mess until Billy returned and found him anyway. It would be the better choice to call for Billy.
However George can’t quite bring himself to cry out for him, instead tears begin to slip from his eyes, and he shuffles around on the bed until he’s laying on his stomach. The nappy feels heavy against him, absolutely humiliating, and he masks his blush by sobbing into his pillow.
Just why would Billy do this to him? Why would he ever want to see George in such a disgusting state? George forces his head up, face just as sticky as his crotch as he croaks a weak, “Billy.” And then when he gets no response from upstairs he tries again, “Billy!” Louder.
“Billy!?” George chokes out, lifting his head more. He didn’t want to get up, but he did. Step by step he climbs up the stairs, jiggling the locked doorknob before sinking to kneel on the step. He would sit, but the thought makes him want to throw up. “Billy!” He shouts, throat tightening when there’s still no response. George presses his forehead to the door, silent sobs wracking his shoulders. It was horrible how much he wanted to be held. He wanted to feel clean down there, and then have a nice cuddle.
“Billy—“ George hiccups, eyes squeezing shut. Billy always got what he wanted, and George had been unlucky enough to be the item that he desired. “B—“ he shuffles, shifting gears. “..daddy,” he chokes out so silently that even he can hardly hear it over his sniffling.
“Daddy!” George shouts finally, gripping the railing like his life depends on it. Dread shifts to relief and exhaustion when he hears footsteps walking to the door, and then he stops right before it. George swallows his remaining pride and repeats himself, “Daddy,” he cries, knowing that Billy was listening. A key is turned in the door, and George stands up, walking backwards down the steps as Billy enters and shuts and locks the door again.
It’s a bit dark on the staircase, but the look in Billy’s eyes makes George shudder all the same. His eyes gleam with arousal and smugness, and George tugs down his sweater again, backing down the stairs into the light of the room. He can feel himself shake with every precise footstep coming down. When he finally gets a good look at Billy, he knows that he’s done exactly as Billy wanted. Exactly when he expected.
“Did my baby go potty?” He asks sweetly, reaching out to cup George’s cheeks. He strokes away the fallen tears, massaging the flesh reddened by embarrassment as George nods. “Tell Daddy,” he hums, and George looks away.
“I pissed meself,” he mumbles, tensing when Billy’s grip tightens on his face. His eyes flit back to him, and he blinks back more tears.
“Ah ah, that’s not how good boys talk,” Billy chastises, and George gulps down his saliva around the lump in his throat at the tone. There was a present stress at the forefront in his mind, needing to avoid punishment, to please Billy while keeping his dignity. He wasn’t sure there was a world where he could keep his pride and survive. God, he wanted a cigarette.
“…I went potty, daddy,” George whispers, shame burning him from the inside out. “In.. my nappy.” He mumbles, rewarded when Billy’s hands move to his hair. He nearly yelps when Billy’s lips crash onto his, tongues colliding as Billy deepens the kiss immediately and walks him back to the bed. George trips, falling onto the mattress with a surprised whimper, and Billy descends on top of him.
He mouths at George’s exposed skin on his neck, pushing up the sweater just enough to look at the nappy properly. George pants, mouth hanging open as he watches Billy in complete shock. He’s never seen him so aroused, staring down at his soiled crotch with a kind of ownership that makes him shudder. George can feel blood rushing to his crotch, precum leaking into his nappy to join the piss.
“My messy little baby,” Billy gasps, groping at his own cock harshly before he pulls it out. George squirms, mortified yet aroused. Billy grabs his thighs, shoving them open wide, making George cry out with dismay as the nappy is crushed against his genitals. He takes out his dick, hand working over himself frantically as he stares down at George with pure lust.
“I’m not—“ George tries to protest meekly only for Billy to jam a few fingers into his mouth. He lets out a garbled whine around them before he shuts up, taking the easy route and begins to suck. If Billy was fucking him, then he’d be out of the diaper.
“You’ve always been my baby, Georgie,” Billy moans, lips latching onto his earlobe this time. George squirms, hips rutting up without his consent, and Billy takes full advantage of this. He grabs George’s ass, squeezing his flesh before he thrusts his own bare cock against the nappy, grinding them together. George moans, humping up. “My baby,” he pants, making George shudder. The mess he was sitting in no longer took priority over his cock.
“Billy—!” George cries out, legs trembling as he tries to get more leverage to grind up against him. A broken cry escapes his lips when Billy grips his hair and gives a solid tug again, making him meet his eyes. “Fuck—“ he chokes on his own arousal, “daddy—!” He corrects himself, telling himself that it was just a matter of survival.
“Daddy’s little piss-baby,” Billy groans, and George feels a flare of humiliation bolt through him that feels an awful lot like arousal, “can’t even make it through the night— that’s why you need Daddy to take care of you,” he rambles, grinding faster. “Daddy’ll buy a changing table— turn the whole room into a nursery,” he promises, and George wants to protest every little bit of that. Instead he finds himself moaning incoherently in agreement when Billy squeezes his ass again.
“Daddy— fuck- daddy ‘m gonna come—!” George sobs, squiggling in place as Billy keeps a firm grip on him, keeping the pace and rhythm as George completely dissolves.
“Beg,” Billy orders firmly, just barely cutting through the haze. George’s eyes twist shut as he sobs with pure need. “Beg for Daddy to let you have a cummy—“
“Fuck!” George shouts, unable to keep it in. Everything inside of him tightens, orgasm crashing over him along with the mortification of coming just from Billy saying the word ‘cummy’. He’s already at the peak, but he tries to correct his disobedience anyway, wanting to avoid later punishment, that’s all. “Daddy! Daddy! Let me— oh-!” He wails, body shaking hard with the aftermath, convulsing uncontrollably.
Billy moans, pushing the tip of his cock into George’s nappy before he comes in it as well. He strokes himself to completion, riding out his own release. When George feels all movement still over him, he cracks open his eyes to find Billy panting as he stares down at him. George finds himself tearing up all over again, feeling the humiliation hit him full force. He doesn’t want Billy to leave him with it because he came too early. He definitely doesn’t want to sit in his wet, cold nappy that’s half sweat now any longer.
“‘M sorry, daddy,” he blabbers, mind racing. He reaches out, weakly clutching at Billy’s shirt. He buries his face in his shoulder, trembling. “I— I didn’t mean to,” he chokes out the words, forcing away any embarrassment. Billy had been aroused by this, and if it prevented a punishment, George could pretend. “It just felt so good,” he whimpers, nearly sobbing from relief when Billy’s hands stroke his back gently.
“Shh, it’s alright, sweetie,” Billy hums, sounding more collected, but definitely satisfied. He gets up, and George watches from the bed as he unlocks the cabinet and rolls out the changing mat. George scrambles up before Billy can even give the instruction, sitting down on it. Billy chuckles at his eagerness, guiding him so he’s laying down. “My baby’s eager to be changed, isn’t he?” He coos in baby talk, and George feels his face redden, embarrassment returning.
Billy takes out the key to get the lockable belt off him. He removes the nappy next, and George feels relief hit him, making him finally relax for the first time that day. He gasps when Billy tickles his stomach gently, making him wriggle on the mat as his focus is drawn back to Billy, watching him peel away the soiled diaper and throw it in the trash.
“Don’t worry, love.” Billy smiles when he meets George’s eyes, looking proud, “This is what good babies do, and yer such a good baby,” he praises. George quickly looks away, face burning in shame. Billy just laughs, wiping up his genitals slower than necessary, meandering when it came to cleaning up his ass just to see the look on George’s face, who’s desperately fighting another erection.
“‘S embarassing,” George croaks, feeling the need to restate it, to try and gain some kind of control over the situation even as Billy powders him and puts another nappy on him and locks it into place with the lockable belt. He helps him up, and George finds himself leaning into Billy for stability. Billy doesn’t move to get him dressed in his pants, simply taking those and putting them in the hamper, which left George in just his nappy and a sweater.
“That’ll fade, Georgie,” he murmurs in return, guiding him to the bed. George lays down under the covers, happy to not have his nappy seen by him or Billy. Billy joins him, holding him close. “I don’t plan on changin’ much, naptime and mealtimes will stay the same,” he hums, and George realizes with a jolt that every day for as long as he’s been in this room, Billy’s held him for an hour. Was that naptime? Was he being trained to take a nap? The idea makes him want to squirm away, but he realizes with dismay that he doesn’t want to. He does feel sleepy, and so he simply tucks his face into the crook of Billy’s neck. “Just a bit different room decoration,” Billy says softly.
“Like what?” George forces himself to ask, even though he doesn’t want to know the answer. Billy just responds with a chuckle, smiling down at him fondly as his fingers stroke through his hair.
“That’s for Daddy to worry about, just relax, baby,” Billy coos, and George hesitates before he tucks back in.
“‘M not a baby,” he insists meekly again, even as his tiredness grows to a tipping point and he falls asleep to the sound of Billy talking to him like he’s a child.