I returned from war with a mild form of PTSD. During the day, I was fine as long as there weren’t any loud noises. I couldn’t drive anymore because every time I saw trash on the road I had an anxiety attack, but bicycling was safe and harmless. Night was the hardest though. I’d have vivid awful dreams in where I couldn’t move and had to watch people die, or had pertinent information that could save lives but it wouldn’t come out of my mouth. I would thrash horribly and wake up shouting, often dumped on the floor in a tangle of sheets.
While combing the internet for treatment for night terrors, I discovered the benefits of pressure. Thundervests for dogs to calm them during storms. Squeeze chutes to relax cattle during herding. Mothers swaddle newborns to duplicate the cramped womb. You can’t really burrito yourself in at night. Someone has to do it for you. By the time I concluded my research, I had only slept about 25 hours that week and was desperate to not wake up either on the floor or vomiting into the toilet.
I discovered a networking site called Recon and made a profile. I messaged a few guys in my area, but most declined my request. One said I was into bondage for the wrong reasons. Another said I would hurt myself if I thrashed around in rope restraint at night. The sixth person I messaged offered me a glimmer of hope. His name was Mick, and he said he had a straight jacket I could wear, which might duplicate the experience. Mick lived an hour away by car so I took the train. We talked over coffee. I think he pitied me.
When it was time for bed, he took me up to his guest room and showed me where I’d be sleeping. I balked at the idea of wearing what was obviously an adult diaper but he basically said it was that or wet the bed if I had to go. At this point, I was so desperate to get a good nights rest that I just gave in, self respect be damned. He was a patient man, and explained step by step what he was doing as he tied my straps. To my shock, the more immobile I became the more my cock began to stiffen. I hadn’t been able to rouse it since I returned from the Middle East. I was a bit relieved Mick couldn’t see it as I was on my stomach and in so much padding.
By the time, the ankle cuffs were in place, my cock was throbbing but I said nothing. Mick left me with a water bottle that I could open with my teeth, a baby monitor in case I needed help, and that was it. Darkness. Hard or not, I was asleep within minutes.
I slept for 10 hours and dreamed of nothing. I woke up feeling so alert and bright I wondered if the water had been drugged. The diaper was wet though, which was humiliating in itself as I couldn’t do anything about it. I called for my Mick over the communication device and he came in to undo my straps.
“How’d you sleep last night?” he asked.
All I could say was, “I slept. I actually slept.”
When I took off the diaper in the bathroom, I realized that it wasn’t urine in the padding but semen… lots of it.
I never told my therapist about my alternative sleeping methods, but coupled with those sessions I began to heal. Mick and I fell in love and we moved in together. Every night, he’d tie me up tight with the padding in place, only now he’d kiss me on the head before rolling over and turning off the lights.