Story Time With Mommy

[Victoria Green Books]

Hello! Here's a short story I wanted to share with you all.

Hope you enjoy it. If you do, you might like some of my stories on Smashwords, too.

Thanks for readin'!

Story Time With Mommy

I pretended to rake the last corner of the yard, slowly moving the leaves into a crunchy pile before spreading them out again with my foot. The last few minutes of daylight streamed through the fence slats, leaving the yard colder and darker by the second. My nose and the tips of my ears tingled; my fingers were numb and clumsy on the rake handle.

I paused to look at my phone. 7:23. I could go in now. Take a hot shower, then chase it with a cold beer and a bowl of leftover chili. Maybe a hunk of that cornbread. Catch up some Netflix.

She must have forgotten. That thought warmed me to my core. She hadn't missed a Friday night in almost three months. 7 PM on the dot, every evening. She'd found me at Mickey's bar, hiding in the corner booth near the bathroom. She'd called the office and asked Angela if I was really working late, then told her it was important I come home. She'd even shown up at my mother's when I was working on her brakes. My mother thought it was cute. "Couple of lovebirds," she'd cooed. If only she knew.

But maybe she'd finally worked the obsession out of her system. It was bound to happen sooner or later. This crap wasn't sustainable.

I heard a door open. Blindingly bright light covered the backyard. I froze.

"Come on in, baby," Erica called out. She dragged out every syllable in 'baby' so it sounded like something between baby talk and a deep Mississippi drawl.

"Still raking," I called out over my shoulder. I raked furiously, kicking up a pile of leaves.

"It can wait 'til tomorrow," she said.

"It's supposed to pour. Need to finish it tonight or I'll have a mess to deal with."

"It's story time, baby," she said. Such innocuous words, but laden with threat.

I dropped the rake onto the pile of leaves and turned around. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. I could only see her outline in the light, but I knew she'd be wearing her nightie and purple bathrobe.

So much for getting it out of her system.

I trudged to the house. Thank god we were almost done with the book. She'd promised me that would be the end of this routine. I'd fantasized about what I'd do with that book and all the other stuff she'd bought to go along with it when her obsession finally fizzled out. Maybe I'd throw it all in the fire pit, douse it with lighter fluid, and hope some of the memories float away with the ashes. But I might just bag it all up as quickly as I could and put it out on the curb. Probably need to double bag it in that case—don't need that bag leaking its contents all over the sidewalk.

"I've run the bath," she said when I stepped into the kitchen.

I nodded and walked down the hallway, peeling off clothes as I went, Erica only a half-step behind me. It's like she expected me to bolt for the hills. Or maybe lock myself in my bedroom like a hormonal thirteen-year-old.

Steam billowed out of the bathroom door, warming my tingling extremities. In other circumstances, this could be relaxing. Grab a quality paperback and a snifter of something brown and peaty and settle in.

A layer of bubbles as thick and deep as January snow covered the water. "Are the bubbles really necessary?" I asked her. I'd probably asked that question before, at some point, but I didn't care. They were annoying and unnecessary.

She pursed her lips as if deep in thought. It was all a show. Part of her pantomime. I regretted even asking the question.

"Hhhhmmm, what did your storybook say, baby? Something about loving 'slick, soapy skin'? Was that it?"

My cheeks flushed.

"Awww, baby. Does that embarrass you?"

"It's hot in here," I mumbled.

She smiled at me sweetly, then sat down on the toilet lid and put her hands in her lap. There was something very 1950s-housewife about her on these evenings. Very Leave it to Beaver. Except she wouldn't be cooking a roast and potatoes or fetching me the newspaper.

I stripped off my underwear and stepped into the tub. Before this started, I would have been self-conscious about her seeing me naked in the stark white light of the bathroom. Thirteen years of marriage and nearly ten as a desk jockey had layered on a few pounds and made other aspects of my physique appear a bit less substantial in comparison. But that was the least of my concerns these days. She couldn't have been less interested in what was between my legs.

"I thought maybe we wouldn't be doing all of this tonight," I said.

"Oh, baby, no. You know mommy wouldn't miss our special time for anything. But I had to take care of a little something."

I ground my teeth: 'mommy' grated against my soul almost as much as 'baby' and she knew it. "It's fine."

She knelt down by the side of the tub. "I wouldn't want you to ever think I'd forgotten about story time," she said.

I stared at the tile, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible.

She frowned. "Don't you want to play with any of your tubby toys tonight?"

I shook my head.

She rolled up her sleeve and reached down into the water. She returned with a yellow toy submarine clutched in one hand. Stickers covered the sides, each one a window with a cartoon dog or cat on it. "Look at this one," she said as if she'd found buried treasure. "I bet you could find something to do with this, right?" Her index finger traced circles on the tip of the sub. "Somewhere special to put it?"

I glared at the water.

"No? Hhhhhmmm." She stuck her hand into the water again and rooted around. "Ah! Look at this, baby." She held up a plastic boat with a turtle captain. She held it out to me.

I took the boat in my hand. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Wind it up," she said, pointing to a crank on the side.

"Erica, I really—"

Her eyes narrowed.

I sighed. "Mommy, can we just move on with the evening? Please?"

"Crank the toy, baby."

I twisted the small crank on the side of the boat and it started vibrating as a paddle on the back flapped around.

"Will you look at that! I bet you could have some fun watching it paddle around the tub, huh?" Erica grinned. "Or maybe you could put it somewhere else, somewhere naughty, and see what happens. Maybe that would get rid of the grumpies, huh?"

"No," I said.

She shrugged, then wet a washcloth and squirted baby shampoo into it. She began scrubbing my body. "What do you think tonight's story will be about?"

"No idea," I said.

"Do you think there will be a princess in this story?"

"Maybe," I said cautiously.

"I bet there will be. All the best nighttime stories have princesses, don't they?"

I stared at the bubbles, letting her run through her routine. Pushing back made her angry and I didn't need to see that hairbrush ever again.

"Stand up, baby. Time to rinse off."

I stood up, covered in bubbles. I instinctively dropped a hand over my crotch, then pulled it back. She didn't like it when I covered up. Or so she said. Really, I think she loved the opportunity to tell me babies don't need to hide anything from their mommies.

She rinsed me with the detachable showerhead, then held out a massive Hello Kitty towel. I didn't want to think about how much money she'd spent on all of this crap. Such a waste.

"Okay, time for jammies." She took me by the hand and led me down the hallway to our bedroom.

A knot settled into my stomach. The bath was tedious and embarrassing but tolerable. I'd never get used to this part of the routine. Not if we did it another thousand times. Every time I thought I knew what to expect, she'd switch it up. New outfits. New accessories. New expectations.

Each item was laid out on the bed in the order she'd put it on me. First, an adult diaper. Impossibly thick, as usual. Tonight's was pink, with princesses and ballerinas print. To the right of the girly diaper sprawled a massive pair of white panties, except they were covered in ruffles. Not sexy lace, but oversized strips of frilly, pink fabric. Then there was the finale: pink footy pajamas that said "Mommy's Girl" in a blocky, glittery text on the right breast.

"Do you like your new outfit, baby?" Erica asked. "You're gonna look soooo adorawable." She seemed genuinely excited by this in a way that frightened me—like this had always been inside of her, just waiting for an excuse to come out.

"When we're done with the messages, this is all done too, right?" I asked, gesturing at the bed. When she was this excited, I needed the reassurance—I needed to hear her say it.

"Messages?" she cocked her head to the side and put a finger to her lips.

I sighed. "The storybook. When we're done with the storybook."

"Oh, the stories! Don't you like story time with mommy?"

"Erica," I said, trying to keep the annoyance from boiling over into a full-blown argument I knew I'd lose.

She frowned.

"Mommy."

"When we're done with the stories, then you can grow up and be a big boy if you really want to."

The knot in my stomach untwisted a bit. I laid down on the bed, spread out on the towel.

She fluffed out the diaper. I'd never get over how massive the damn things were. Unfolded, it had the wingspan of a friggin' eagle the fluff of a herd of sheep. I lifted my butt and she slid it under me.

Shit.

I'd forgotten to pee beforehand. 9 AM was a ways off, but I could probably make it, as I long as I skipped my nightly glass of water.

She dusted me with powder and then taped the diaper closed. "Okay, up we go, baby," she said.

I slipped off the bed and she picked up the panties and held them out. Like the diaper, they were huge. But they'd need to be to fit over the diaper. "Do you like the new rumba panties mommy got you? Aren't they soooooo cute?"

I gave her the faintest wisp of a smile. The bare minimum that would keep hairbrushes out of the equation.

"Okay, put your first leggy in," she said.

I slipped my leg through one leg hole, then the other, and she drew them up my legs. Despite their massive size, once she'd fussed and fiddled them into place they were impossibly tight. They'd be hot, too. Uncomfortably hot. Whatever material it was wouldn't let any moisture out and would trap all my body heat.

Erica frowned. "Hhhhhhhmmm."

Despite my rapidly warming crotch, a chill ran up my back. "What?"

"Baby girls don't have hairy legs."

"I'm not a—"

Erica's frown deepened.

I stopped myself, choking back the rest of that statement. Maybe we'd finally finish the book tonight and that would be that. No need to fight an unnecessary battle.

"I'll pick up a razor before next story time. We'll make you all silky smooth." She smiled as if she'd just solved some longtime conundrum. No point in mentioning the perfectly fine Bic in a cup over the sink—babygirls didn't use men's razors, of course.

She picked up the pajamas and held them out in front of her. I stepped into the feet and then she zipped it all the way up to my neck. They were incredibly soft and warm. Impossible to believe that an hour ago I was freezing outside in a pair of jeans and work boots. That almost felt like a different life.

She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. "Well aren't you the cutest wittle baby girl I've ever seen!" She pulled the Polaroid off the dresser. "Give mommy a biiiiiggg smile."

I forced out a smile. She'd promised not to share the pictures with anyone. I believed her. Mostly, anyway. Some part of me knew the pictures weren't just part of the game; they were insurance that I continued to play along until she said we were done.

"Okay, baby, you get all snuggly while mommy gets the storybook."

I pulled down the blankets and crawled into bed. I heard her in the kitchen, getting into the fridge and then the microwave. A moment later, she returned, the book in one hand and a baby bottle in the other.

"What's that?" I asked.

She handed me the bottle. It was warm and full of what could only be milk.

"Mommy thought you might be hungwy after all of your hard work outside."

The bottle looked like a typical baby bottle, but it was oversized, with an obscenely large nipple. Sucking that would feel less like nursing on a woman's breast and more like...something else I didn't want to ponder too deeply.

"I don't think—"

"Drink it all up for mommy," she cut me off. "Don't waste a drop, okay baby?"

My stomach dropped. No way would I be able to hold out for the toilet in the morning after all of this liquid. I'd try, of course, but eventually, I'd give in and pee in the diaper and then lie in it all night long. Even worse would be how thrilled Erica would be in the morning. She'd oooohhh and ahhhhh, squeezing the soaked padding and talking about what a good little bedwetter I was. About how I should wear piddlepanties to bed every night.

I brought the bottle up to my lips and started to suck.

Erica settled in next to me and put the book on her lap. "Okay, story time, baby."

She flipped open to a page at the back of the book. Actually, it might be the actual back of the book, because whatever printing company she'd used had almost certainly added a blank page or info about their press or whatever at the very end. Instead of what looked like four pages, maybe we only had a couple! Tonight might be the end of it. My heart and mind raced in tandem. Maybe she'd let me take all of this off tonight, once the book was done! I could use the toilet and get a good night's sleep.

Gotta calm down and get through this first, though. One last sprint to the finish line.

She put her arm over my shoulder and squeezed me against her. "So last week, the big, strong, daddy was telling the girl what she should do in her diaper." She pointed to the spot we'd left off: an image of a text message, blown up to huge proportions.

Should I be a bad little girl, daddy?

Yes, baby. Show me how dirty you can make that diaper.

Erica turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, my. This is a new twist in the story, hmmm?"

I felt myself blush.

"What do you think the big, strong daddy means by 'dirty' diaper? Do you think he means wittle tinkles, like you do in your diapy?"

I stared down at the book, not daring to answer that question.

Erica put her finger under my chin and brought my gaze up to hers. "Tell me baby, what do you think?"

"No," I said.

"No, what?"

"I don't think he means pee," I said.

Erica's mouth gaped open in mock shock, then she covered it with her hand and giggled. "You think the big, strong daddy wants the baby to poop her diapy?"

I nodded.

"Oh, my. But, I suppose that's what babies do in their diapers, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said.

"But you're a baby and you haven't made a poopy in your diapy yet, have you?"

My guts twisted and turned like a crocodile drowning its prey.

"Baby?"

I shook my head.

"Hhhhhhmm, well we just might need to do something about that," Erica said. She shrugged. "Okay, back to the story."

I'm pushing, daddy. I'm pushing so hard.

That's a good baby. Such a good little baby for daddy. What are you wearing?

I'm wearing one of my princess diapers and my footies

Keep pushing baby. Make a big mess for daddy.

I did!!! It's soooo stinky, daddy. I'm embarrassed.

Don't be embarrassed that's what babies do. That's what your diapy is for princess.

Erica flipped the page.

Send daddy a picture of your messy bottom

Below that was a blank space where a photo had gone. I remembered it vividly: even through the fluffy PJs and the thick diaper you could see the lump in the back of her diaper. I'd masturbated to that pic furiously for a week straight.

But now there was no picture, just a blank spot with a plastic sleeve over it. Erica picked up the Polaroid from the nightstand and slid it into the picture spot. "There we go," she said. "What do you think, baby? Do you like the picture?"

What could I say? I'm sorry for cheating on you? We were way past that. Screw you, psycho? Not here at the very end of the journey.

"It's a nice picture."

Erica smiled and closed the book.

"Wait," I said.

She looked at me. "What's the matter, princess?"

"Can we read some more?" I asked. I remembered the text conversation now—we only had a few more exchanges.

She grinned. "Are you wondering how this story ends? What happens to the princess and the big, strong daddy?"

"Yes." It came out in a half-whisper. There could only be one page left. Maybe not even a full page. If we could just get to the end, this could be the last night. We could go back to some semblance of a normal, married life.

"Hhhhhhmmm," she said. "Okay."

My heart was thudding now. Never had I been so excited about finishing a book.

I'm soooo messy daddy

I wish I could change you baby

How would you change me??

I'd wipe you down slowly, getting all of the stinkies off you

"I know you're getting excited, but don't forget about your baba," Erica said, gently pushing it up toward my mouth.

I started sucking again.

What about my princess parts??

Do you worry about that. I'll take extra special care of your princess parts, baby

But what if you can't get it all off?

Daddy will get you in a nice warm bubble bath

Erica looked over at me meaningfully and I felt the blush again. This wasn't the first time bubble baths had come up, of course. In fact, that's where it all started.

Will you help me in the tubby?

Of course baby. I'll get you nice and clean while you play with your toys

That was it. The last message I ever sent Bell. Erica had started catching on at that point, asking me pointed questions about who I was texting so often, so I'd stopped. If only I'd deleted the old messages too. Or at least locked my phone.

Erica closed the book. "Well that was a silly ending for a story," she said.

I collapsed back against the bed, three months of tension finally easing out of me. "Erica," I said after staring at the ceiling for a moment.

"Mommmy," she corrected.

"Mommy. Can I…?" I gestured at the ridiculous pajamas.

"What, baby? Do you need to make a poopy like the princess in the story?"

God. She was going to make me squirm and beg right up until the end.

"Why don't you put the story back on the shelf, baby," she said. "Then we can talk."

"Fine," I snapped. I snatched the book out of her hand and waddled into the living room, crinkling the whole way. I put the book back on the shelf. Tomorrow morning I'd throw it in the trash. Or least stick it in some drawer where no one would ever see it, if she was determined to keep it.

I stopped. There was a new book on the shelf. Fire truck red and twice as thick as the storybook, but the same basic design and dimensions. I reached out, hand trembling, and pulled it off the shelf. No way. There was no way. We were done. There were no more texts.

I flipped open the book and my heart seized up in my chest. Emails. Fucking emails. Tumblr messages. Fetlife messages. Years of lurid internet history with Bell and others.

Erica walked into the living room. "Surprise, baby! Mommy found so many more princess stories to read together."

I flipped through the book. It was easily twice as long as the other one and full of blank spots for images.

"Erica, please."

She shook her head. "No more stories tonight. You'll have to wait until next Friday to find out what happens to the big, strong daddy."

I felt on the verge of a breakdown, mind racing with images of Friday nights to come. If she'd really dug deep, she'd have found filthy, nasty stuff. Messages that made the texts seem tame in comparison.

"Please," I croaked out.

"Please what, baby?"

"I can't do this. I can't handle another six months."

She paused, hands on her hips and a pensive look on her face. She shrugged and smiled. "Okay."

"Okay? Really?"

"Really." She handed me the bottle.

I brought it to my lips and started sucking, unwilling to do anything that might make her change her mind.

"Since you're having so much fun, we'll start doing story nights Saturday and Sunday, too."

I yanked the bottle from my mouth. "No, that's not what--"

She got a dreamy look on her face. "And maybe Sunday afternoons, too. Mommy would love to read with you in the swing on the back porch before it gets too chilly out. Or at the park? Wouldn't that be fun, baby?"

I shook my head, the world closing in around me.

She gave me a gentle pat on the diaper. "We can talk all about that in the morning. For now, it's time to sleep, baby."

##

[DannyDoo]

Very creative plot!  Excellent writing and building suspense.  Love it!

[Victoria Green Books]

Thanks @DannyDoo! I'm glad you enjoyed it