His unobstructed mouth was of no use to him. His mind was too empty to form words, and each heavy, desperate gasp only found more of the same hot, humid, rubber-scented air. Still, it felt... busy as he kept looking for a breath of fresh air, something to clear his head... or did he even want to? He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen in front of him, as it scrolled through text and images. Pictures of thicky padded butts, other squeaky padded prisoners, some of them in elaborate systems of restraint, some grinding on each other desperately, others still merely reflecting on the sealed, puffy layer under their suits... the words orphaned triggers, delivered over and over. Diaperslut. Permastuck. Sealed forever. Permapamps.

Compulsively, he ground his own thick, saturated diaper into the vibrator, kneading the squish with the buzzing head, trying to find the sweet spot, if there even was one to be found, as it drilled away on his willpower to resist. What was he resisting? Why was he resisting? This was perfect. A perfect permaprison for a permastuck permaslut. His hooves felt around in the couple of inches of water he sat in, the vibrator splashing it into the air and around the cramped confines, mixing with the sweat trickling liberally from his face. Was the water being cycled up over him and trickling down on his head again? Maybe... he couldn't be sure. He was distracted being a good diaperslut. Permasealed pamperslut. Mindless horny permaslut. Wait! No...