Doing Business [Season 4] [Part 79 posted on 4/26/2024]

[BabySerenity]

I don’t know about you but would love seeing him actually be 24/7 baby!!

[quietlyhumiliated]

Thirty-Two

“What. The fuck. Are you wearing?”

It went about as well as I expected it to.

I had taken my time in leaving the bedroom to greet Kylie. I was stuck in one of Mommy’s patented ‘rock and hard places,’ and forced to pick between humiliating myself by walking out of the bedroom–or waiting for Mommy to drag me out herself. The former option was clearly the better of the two, though that didn’t exactly inspire much motivation.

“Hey, Kylie. So…about this…” I started, pointing to my sailor onesie as if she hadn’t seen it yet for herself.

“Are you dressed like a…baby?” she asked. “The fuck is that on your ass? Like a diaper or something?” She snorted and shook her head, as if the very idea that I would be wearing a diaper was simply too ridiculous to be real.

“Well, I mean…”

“Wait. Are you? Are you actually wearing a fucking diaper?”

It felt incredibly unfair to have to answer these reductive questions when there was so much context she needed to know first. She should know about how this started. About the executive leadership team’s little club in my office. She should know about Lyndie and Ava and…

Fuck. I needed to start somewhere.

“Yeah…it’s a diaper.”

“Oh my gaaawd.” She bit her bottom lip and shook her head again as she sat back in the couch, seeming completely baffled by this.

“I know, I know,” I said, hoping to have the chance to start explaining myself. “See, Mom…uh…Ms. Heller and I…”

“I fucking knew you two were doing something weird,” she said. “But this? Diapers? Dressing you up like a baby? That’s some pretty fucked up stuff.”

I instinctively felt myself slipping into self-preservation mode. “You can’t tell anyone. You can’t tell your mother, you know? You have to keep it a…”

She sighed. “Look, Ms. Heller already has me backed into a corner, alright? I’m not telling anyone anything. But don’t think for a second that that means I’m going to be all nice and supportive about you dressing up like some pathetic freak.”

Her words hurt a little, but not as much as they excited me. Mommy must’ve broken me, because I found myself craving this kind of scorn now.

“Well,” I said, shrugging. “Here I am, I guess. I don’t know what else to say. So if you have any questions…”

“Do you piss your pants?”

I was not expecting her to jump right into the questions like that. “Uh, well, this is a real diaper that’s made to be pretty absorbent and…”

“Just answer the question, baby. Do you piss your pants or not?”

“Y-yes.”

“Does she change your diaper like a baby?”

“I mean…”

“Just tell me. I’m supposed to stay here with you all day. If it takes you this long to answer every question, I’m going to go crazy and jump out a window.”

So, that’s one way I could get out of this…

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to take photos of you right now and send them to all my friends?”

I could only guess. “Please…don’t?”

She rolled her eyes again. “I know it’d probably end badly for me if I did. But, fuck. What kind of hidden-camera show is this?”

I looked around the suite’s living room. “I’m pretty sure there aren’t any cameras.”

“So, what, rich and powerful people can just make little boys at their company crawl around in diapers for their amusement now?”

I laughed, finding that she summarized the last few weeks of my life surprisingly well. “Yes…it would seem so.”

“My mom is rich,” she said. “And powerful. Am I owed a little baby-man of my own?”

I could only shrug, unsure of which side of the line between honest and sarcastic she was treading on.

Behind me, I could hear activity in the bedroom behind the closed door. Mommy was out of the shower now, and getting herself ready for her day.

“How often do you wear diapers now?” Kylie asked.

“Uh…regularly.”

“What does that mean? Like, everyday?”

“Yeah.”

“At work?”

“Uhm, yeah.”

“Seriously? Like you just walk around an office all day with diapers on under your pants? Everyone has to know, right?”

My heart was racing again, and my cheeks were warming.

I had been in a bubble the last few weeks. I had a cursory awareness of this fact, but I rarely dwelled on it. But Kylie’s presence, and her questions, had suddenly made very conscious of it. I had somehow found myself in a world where the only people I interacted with during the day were the ones who knew I was a baby. They knew I wore, and used, diapers. They expected me to. And that was normal to them, just as it had become normal for me.

This, standing in a room with Kylie as she stared at me, was a glimpse of the reality outside of my bubble. And I found the humiliation to be absolutely crushing.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “I don’t think so.”

“Get the hell out of here,” she spat back. “There’s no way that a grown man waddles through an office in a diaper everyday without everyone staring at him.”

Way to shine a light on my biggest fears. “There’s people who know, obviously. But…you know, it’s an office. People are busy. They’re not paying attention to my pants.”

“That’s cute that you tell yourself that,” she said. “I was a lifeguard last summer. Mind you–I was working outside, right?” And I worked with this guy who wore this pair of tennis shoes that squeaked every time he took a step. And it drove me fucking insane because I couldn’t not hear it. Now imagine you’re walking around inside with a ton of people, and your ass is crinkling like a toddler.”

“It’s not that loud,” I said, shifting my hips as I said the words. The crisp swish-swish of the diaper’s friction inside the onesie filled the room. Well, damn. I tried not to think about it too much, lest I have a panic attack and never return to the office again.

“Look, I get that I was asked to be, like, a ‘babysitter’ or whatever,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to coddle you like a baby. I’m not going to change your diaper or burp you over my shoulder.”

I hadn’t ever been burped before. The thought of it was…exciting.

“Nobody’s asking you to change any diapers,” a third voice suddenly said. It was Mommy, exiting the bedroom, dressed in a stunning deep-blue skirt suit. “I mean, if you feel compelled to, you really ought to give it a shot–a future woman-of-power like yourself may one day find herself with a large baby of her own, and having a little experience can’t hurt.”

“I wouldn’t change an actual baby’s diaper,” Kylie responded. “I’m sure as hell not going to change his.”

“Fair enough. Clarky does have a knack for making nasty messes out of his.”

I closed my eyes, hoping to blink myself out of existence. It didn’t seem to work.

“Uh, are you saying that he, like, shits himself too?”

“Afraid so,” Mommy said. “And he’s not allowed to change his own diapers this weekend, so if he has a little accident while I’m out–and you don’t want to take care of it–I’ll be happy to handle it when I get home. Of course, you’ll probably want to open a window or something in the meantime.”

Kylie shot me an annoyed glance. “Don’t even think about shitting your diaper today.”

“I’ll, uh, do my best.”

“Baby hasn’t had a bowel movement yet today,” Mommy said, assembling a few final things to take with her to the conference. “If he hasn’t gone by the time I get home, he’ll probably be ready to just…pop.”

I couldn’t believe Mommy was talking to Kylie about the inevitability of me filling my diaper.

“And while I sincerely mean it when I say that you don’t have to change his diaper,” Mommy continued, “if you think he needs some help getting his bowels moving…I did leave a little treat in the fridge.”

Kylie still seemed plenty disgusted. But also curious. “Oh? What sort of treat?”

“Just a baby bottle,” Mommy said. “Mostly milk. And a little extra ingredient that would get a constipated baby’s bowels moving again. You don’t have to give it to him. But just remember it’s there.”

“Anything else I should know?” Kylie asked, her deadpan tone suggesting sarcasm. “Does he need to be put down for a nap? Am I supposed to read him a bed-time story? Breastfeed him?”

“Young lady, if those tits provided milk, I’d be offering you a full-time position on my staff. No, I’m not asking you to do anything special beyond keeping Baby company. I can count on you for that, yes?”

Kylie’s face lost a little of its defiant confidence, and she even crossed her arms in front of her chest–maybe a little self-conscious of her chest suddenly. “Fine.”

The female social hierarchy was on display before me. Kylie, no doubt a queen bee in her usual circle of bratty and privileged friends, still knew her place when Ms. Heller was in the room. If it was commanded, I wondered if Kylie would throw herself over Mommy’s knees for a paddling too.

Too, I wondered if Kylie had more respect for Ms. Heller than she did for her own mother.

“Baby?” Mommy asked. “I left my good shoes in the bedroom. Could you fetch them for me? They’re the black ones near the bathroom door.”

“Of course.”

Her eyes narrowed a little and her head tilted. She seemed to be looking for a specific response, and I could easily guess what it was.

Flustered, I said what I could safely assume she wanted to hear: “Of course, Mommy.”

“Thank you, darling.”

As soon as I stepped foot in the bedroom, I could hear the women talking again. Unlike before, when I could hear them through the closed door, these were hushed tones that I could barely decipher even with the door opened. I could only imagine what Mommy was saying to Kylie. Requests? Permissions? Apologies, in advance, for stinky diapers?

I sighed, grabbing the shoes from the ground. I made my way back to the living room slowly, figuring I would give Mommy an extra few seconds to wrap up whatever secret conversation she was having with Kylie. Sure enough, by the time I returned, there was silence in the room. Both women wore suspiciously smug smiles.

“Thank you, Baby,” Mommy said, taking the shoes from me. “I suppose I should be on my way.”

My heart sank a little. We had never discussed why I wasn’t going to the conference with her. I could make a few assumptions–if nothing else, she wanted to keep me in my more infantile state for this trip. And I wasn’t exactly complaining either; the thought of strolling around a busy gathering like that in my diaper seemed like a recipe for humiliation.

I just wasn’t as fond of the alternative–being left alone with Kylie.

“You’ll behave yourself, yes?” Mommy asked me.

I nodded sheepishly, unable to even imagine a scenario where I ‘acted out.’

“Miss Kylie has the authority to paddle your bottom, if she so chooses.”

Kylie only offered a single “Heh,” that I couldn’t determine the meaning for. It seemed to land somewhere between ‘I’m not touching him,’ and ‘With pleasure.’

“I’ll be…good,” I said, startled at the deja vu I was experiencing from when I was an actual little boy being handed over to a babysitter.

“I’ll check in on you when I can,” Mommy said. “Otherwise, I’ll see you tonight. Kylie, you have my number.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ma’am. Her respect for Mommy worried me a little.

Then, the front door to the suite closed behind her, and Mommy was gone. Now, it was the Kylie and Baby show.

I think I had seen this particular scene before in cartoons and movies from my youth–the one where the child slowly turns around after the mother leaves the house, finding themself looking at the twisted grin of the mean babysitter.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” Kylie said.

“Yeah…”

“Look, I probably don’t have to say this, but let me remind you that this wasn’t my first pick for how I spent my day.”

“Nor mine,” I said.

“But,” she said, smiling a little, “being handed a pathetic boy in a diaper isn’t exactly the worst thing that could’ve happened today.”

It almost went without saying at this point–if someone new stumbled into my infantile life, they couldn’t be someone kind and supportive. They, too, wanted to have some laughs at my expense.

The fact that I might have enjoyed that was irrelevant to the point.

Kylie got up and strolled into the kitchen. It was my first time getting a good look at what she was wearing today–a short black skirt and a yellow top, with a cropped black cardigan over that. She literally looked like a queen bee.

“Can I get you something from the fridge?” she asked. It seemed a little too nice of her, until I remembered Mommy’s mention of the ‘special’ bottle she had made me.

“No, I think I’m good.”

Kylie returned, a bottle of hard lemonade in her hand.

“Starting early, aren’t you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Got a problem with that?”

“N-no…”

She sat back down on the couch, crossing her legs as she took a long sip from her adult beverage. It wasn’t that long ago that I was 18–I could remember the same forbidden pleasure of alcohol that she seemed to be enjoying now.

“You don’t have to just stand there,” she said. “Sit down. Let’s chat.”

I hadn’t even realized I was still standing there, my infantile get-up still openly on display. I turned and started walking towards one of the other chairs in the room.

“No, dummy, sit on the ground, Like a baby.”

I felt a pang of humiliation. She was quickly finding her babysitter voice. Maybe a little too quickly. I sighed and did as she asked, plopping myself down on the ground, my diapered bottom making a dramatic FUMPH as I landed.

“So, are you, like, incontinent now?” she asked. “Did you forget how to use the potty like a big boy?” The way that her voice sneered as she asked her teasing question implied a history of being the bully.

“I can use a potty…er…toilet. You don’t just lose control.”

“But when’s the last time you used the bathroom?”

“It’s been a while.”

She laughed, clucking with satisfaction. “And you’re fine with this? Everyone else your age is going on dates and enjoying the best years of their lives. And you’re just…pissing yourself?”

I wasn’t sure what answer I could offer besides the truth: “I’m fine with this.”

She took another swig of her bottle, kicking it back like she’d been a bar regular for years. “What then? Is this the rest of your life? Are you going to be in your mid-30s and still crawling around in a diaper with a bonnet on your head?”

That doesn’t sound all that bad. “I don’t know. I think I’m just focusing on…now.”

“I get the appeal,” she said, before quickly adding: “...from Ms. Heller’s perspective. I don’t want someone pooping their pants around me, but I wouldn’t mind having some stupid little love-puppy following me around.”

I shrugged. To each their own.

“You want to be a good boy, right?”

I shrugged again. “Y-yeah…” My heart was already beating faster in anticipation of where this was going.

“I should get some practice in. Are you gonna do what I tell you to do?”

“I-if you want…”

“I do want,” she spat. “But, also, your Mommy put me in charge. So you’re going to do what I say, whether you like it or not.”

Ah, yes. Here she was: the brat. I wondered what ramifications there would be if I didn’t play along. Was she going to whine to Mommy? Would Mommy actually care?

Perhaps. Kylie might not have been Mommy, but she was acting as a representative of Mommy’s. An ambassador. And Mommy had, after all, told me to behave. It was safe to assume that ‘behaving’ meant listening to whatever it was Kylie asked.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“I like the sound of ‘Miss Kylie.’ Can you start calling me that?”

“Y-yes…Miss Kylie.”

“Hm. Yeah, I like that. Now, can you…crawl?”

She wasn’t asking me to do anything I hadn’t done plenty of already, so I was happy to be able to accommodate the request. Sitting on the ground, I was already halfway there–I just allowed myself to lean forward until my hands were on the ground. Then, it was just crawling. Like I always did.

“It’s a little annoying that I find this to be cute,” she said from the couch as she watched me do a little lap around the room. “Now, tell me that you’re a stupid little baby.”

I liked this request a little less than being asked to crawl, but it still wasn’t all that hard to do. If she asked me to say that I was a ‘fat-ass walrus,’ I would’ve said that too.

“I’m a, uh, stupid little baby.”

“Now, let’s put it all together,” she said. “Come crawl over to me. Then look up at me and say: ‘Miss Kylie, I’m a stupid little baby.’”

I could see where this was going. It was no different than the first morning I spent with Mommy. Or the first time I had revealed my diapers to Lyndie. It started small, but they always managed to quickly discover how much power they had. Kylie would be no exception.

I did exactly as she asked. I crawled back across the room again, only stopping when I was at her legs, briefly peering into the darkness between her legs in her skirt before guiding my eyes up to her face. My cock, once more, tried to expand in my cage, only to be thwarted.

“Miss Kylie…I’m a stupid little baby.”

She moaned with delight and clapped her hands together. “I take back what I said before. I think we are going to have a good day together.”

[kirababy]

Curious to see just how far Kylie takes this, my guess is with a few more lemonades, she will be all the more assertive.  And probably a good bit horny.

[BabySerenity]

10 hours ago, kirababy said:

Curious to see just how far Kylie takes this, my guess is with a few more lemonades, she will be all the more assertive.  And probably a good bit horny.

Let’s hope so!! Maybe she’ll find Mommy’s bigger strapon?? Lol or make him give her oral pleasure?

[quietlyhumiliated]

A periodic reminder that I'm able to continue writing this story, and many many others, through the support of readers like you on my Patreon. I post new stories every week, and so if you like what you're reading and want more (including the next 5 chapters of this story before they're available here), drop on by!

Regardless, thank you for continuing to read!

 

Part 33

Handwritten note on the suite’s kitchen counter:

If you have any questions on caring for Clark, feel free to text or call me: [number redacted.] If I’m not available and you have a time sensitive question, please contact Lyndie - another member of my team who usually takes care of Clark when I’m not around. [number redacted].

And, really, if Clark does anything especially embarrassing, you ought to send a photo to both Lyndie and myself.

***

It’s hard to carry something while you’re crawling, and even harder to carry something that you want to be careful with. I was effectively reduced to being a three-legged dog as I made the slow journey back from the fridge to bring Kylie her next beer.

“The drinking age is 18 in other countries,” she said as I parked myself at her feet to hand it to her. “Probably those European countries, y’know? You won’t find an 18 year old girl in France resorting to looking after a boy in diapers just so that she can get some booze.”

I’d have responded, but she had asked me–no, commanded me–to stick a pacifier in my mouth and to leave it there until she said otherwise.

“So, obviously, you get off on this, right?” she asked, taking a swig from the bottle.

I shrugged. My chastity cage–which she somehow didn’t seem to know about yet–complicated the answer to that question.

“What about the fact that your babysitter is younger than you are? Come on, that’s got to be  pretty fucking embarrassing, yeah? You’re so pathetic that even a wittle girl like me could take care of you.”

Obviously, I couldn’t say anything in response, but the color of my cheeks likely communicated enough.

“I never babysat kids when I was younger,” she said. Oh good, the villain is going to monologue now. “I didn’t have to. That’s what girls do when they want to have enough money to go hang out at the mall. I always had money, so… Anyway, I think I would’ve been a really terrible babysitter. I don’t know when to change a fucking diaper, you know? I don’t know what a kid wants when they start crying. I want someone to babysit me. I want them to predict my needs and take care of me.”

That certainly checked out.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I guess that’s why I’m coming around on today. The best of both worlds, right? I’m getting paid for my services…” She held up her bottle of alcohol. “...and the baby actually gets to help take care of me. Good stuff.”

I sighed through my nose. Being humiliated at her hands was something that I’d probably look back at fondly someday. Having to endure little speeches like this all day could sour those memories.

“I wanted to do two things today,” she said. “Actually, three things, but let’s be honest–I’m not going to make out with someone who still pees their pants. But I can still drink, and I can still go shopping.”

At the risk of scolding, I took the pacifier out of my mouth. “So, you’re leaving?”

This was, potentially, good news.

“I asked Ms. Heller,” she said. “Your Mommy. She said she didn’t mind.”

“Good. That, uh, sounds fun.”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t care what I do, so long as I’m spending my mom’s money. But…”

“But?”

“She said that if I left, I’d have to take you with me.”

“What? But…” This, I assumed, was the conversation that transpired when Mommy sent me to fetch her shoes earlier. I could even see Mommy encouraging Kylie to take me out for a little excursion like that.

“Do you think that I want to be followed around by a guy in a diaper? Don’t get me wrong, I bet it’s going to be fun watching you squirm while we’re in public. But, like, can you try not to embarrass me while we’re out?”

It was hard for me to consider her needs while I was still thinking about mine. “I don’t have to wear this do I?” I asked, pointing to the onesie.

“You obviously have to wear a diaper. Your Mommy said so. But, yeah, if you have some actual adult clothes, that’d be good.”

I didn’t have much, honestly. But I had what I wore out of the office yesterday–the same outfit I wore to dinner with Gretchen and Kylie last night. I nodded.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

I sighed. “Yeah?”

She surprised me with a swift slap to my diapered ass. It didn’t hurt, but between the momentum of her hand and being caught off guard, a pitiful squeak was forced out of my mouth.

“That was for taking your pacifier out of your mouth without my permission.”

She certainly seemed to have a bright future ahead of her as a dominating woman of power.

Soon after, we were in the back of an Uber on our way to Pacific Place–described to me as a ‘high-end shopping experience’ by Kylie. Exactly where I wanted to go with a thick crinkling diaper under my pants.

And speaking of my diaper, the drive over seemed like as good a time as any to start using it. I still hadn’t found the perfect timing for when I’d wet myself, but the decision usually boiled down to, in the immortal words of that famous green ogre, better out than in. The diaper could handle it, and probably another wetting or two on top of that if it had to.

But could it handle a few wettings and a mess?

I certainly didn’t want to find out, just as I could guess that Kylie didn’t want to either. For now, the coast seemed clear, though I could never predict when an uncomfortable rumble in my bowels would emerge.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered as we started strolling through the mall’s main thoroughfare.

“Wh-what?”

“Do you know what I can hear? Above the sound of the music playing and all the other people talking?”

I could probably guess. “No…what?”

“Your fucking diaper. Stupid baby.”

I felt my cheeks getting a little rosy again. My life currently felt chock full of people who wanted to see me embarrassed, but none were as antagonistic as Kylie.

“Sorry…”

She laughed. “Oh, I don’t fucking care. I hope everyone around us hears it. I should’ve let you wear your onesie here–because I’m not going to make much an effort to keep your diapers a secret today.”

My cheeks got a little rosier. I’d protest…but I had expected this. And it wasn’t that different from what I had endured with Mommy since our trip began. What happens in Seattle, stays in Seattle.

Hopefully.

“Did you make pee-pee in your diapers yet?” she asked as I followed her into a shop. The timing seemed spot-on, as we walked right past an employee stationed at the door who was greeting new customers.

I wasn’t sure how she expected me to respond to that, or if she expected me to respond at all. Yet, ever the glutton for more blushing, I played along.

“Just a little.”

She chuckled loudly, probably not expecting an honest answer.

“Well don’t get any ideas about me taking you to the bathroom and changing you on one of those little pull-out diaper stations.”

I wasn’t thinking about it before, but… Fuck, the idea of it caused me to expand a little in my cage. “I won’t.”

There were moments where Kylie seemed to forget about me entirely, as she sifted through racks of clothes. I followed her everywhere she went, and she offered no acknowledgment that I was still there. Then, she’d occasionally spot me and just laugh, having been reminded that she was being shadowed by a large baby.

“I have to try on some things. Come with me.”

“I can’t, like, go into the dressing room with you…”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Don’t be stupid. Do you really think I want you watching me undress? You’ll probably blow a load in your diaper. No, I just want to know where you are at all times.”

Did she think I was going to wander away like a toddler? I kept this question to myself.

“I’d like to try these on,” she said, showing the employee at the changing rooms her small pile of garments.

“Of course, right this way.”

“And keep an eye on that one while I’m trying these on,” she said to the employee while pointing at me. “You know how babies are. He might throw a temper tantrum when he’s left by himself for too long.”

“Uhm…okay?”

The employee led Kylie into a dressing room before returning to the small desk she had been stationed at, looking at me skeptically. I just shrugged, hoping to play it off like I didn’t know what she was talking about either.

Kylie wasn’t quick about it. Either it took a while to get through each piece of clothing, or she wanted to leave me waiting for her for as long as possible.

Eventually, she returned, her haul cut into two piles. She thrusted one of the piles into the hands of the employee.

“I won’t be keeping those.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of those,” the employee said, taking them from her.

“He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” Kylie asked, not-so subtly pointing to me over her shoulder. “Didn’t poop his pants or anything?”

The poor woman, completely baffled by these questions, just shrugged as my face grew red again. I felt for her–I’m sure she just wanted to do her job. Still, I was thankful that this didn’t spiral into some sort of Twilight Zone situation where the employee, too, suddenly turned on me and demanded for me to pull down my pants and show her my diaper.

That would make for a good story. Someone should write one like that.

Kylie was back to ignoring my existence again while we waited in line for her to pay for her haul. It wasn’t until after I followed her out of the store that she turned to me with that devilish grin on her face again.

“That was fun, right?”

“Maybe for you.”

“You didn’t actually poop your pants, did you?”

“No…”

“I guess I’d probably know it if you did. Everyone else would know too.”

No argument from me. Though, now I was curious if she actually wanted me to mess my diaper in public or not. I didn’t think so–she probably just knew the topic was an expressway to getting me flustered. Babies, both small and big, can be read like books.

A few more stops throughout the mall. A few more pointed jabs to get a rise out of me. And, the longer we were in the mall, the better she seemed to get at them.

In front of a cluster of women, comparing dresses: “I already told you, I’m not going to change your diaper just because you got a little bit of tinkle in it. I’ll change you when the diaper isn’t going to hold another drop.”

While we waited for a young man to ring up her purchases in another store: “How often do you get diaper rashes? That must suck, to be 22 years old and still getting rashes because you still wear diapers, right?”

On the escalator, she turned to talk to the woman riding up behind us: “I’m really sorry you’re downwind from him. He’s still in diapers, you know, so I hope he’s not too stinky.”

At the food court as we ordered lunch: “Do you guys have those, like, plastic bibs for toddlers? I know he looks like an adult, but if he has to wear diapers because he can’t keep his pants dry, I assume that he can’t keep his shirt clean either.”

I tried to take it all in stride as best as I could. It was always embarrassing, for sure, but I was beginning to grow a little bit of a shell.

I don’t live here. They don’t know me. We’ll never see each other again. This is all just temporary.

Over lunch, I decided to try and engage in conversation that wasn’t just about my undergarments. “So, are you going to miss your friends when you go to college?”

She laughed.

“I…wasn’t trying to be funny, I just–”

“I’m going to be happy getting away from my so-called friends.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know what happens when you get a roomful of rich, privileged, and catty girls together?”

“I can’t say I do,” I said.

“Hell. It’s a passive aggressive–and sometimes just plain aggressive–hell. Everyone is acting, all the time. Everyone is trying to undermine everyone else.”

“Well, I, uh, hope college is a better experience for you.”

“Are you kidding me? Do you think the social scene at an Ivy League school is going to be any different? I already know that I’m going to have to, you know, kill or be killed.”

That sounds much more intense than my college experience. What else could I say? “Good luck.”

She laughed. “I think I’ll do just fine.”

After lunch, we slowly made our way back through the mall again, completing the loop so that Kylie could see if there was anything else she needed to use her mother’s credit cards on.

“Ah,” she said. “This is interesting, isn’t it?”

It was a designer infant apparel store. I had no chance of responding, as she grabbed my arm, pulling me into the shop.

“Good afternoon,” a saleswoman said, floating towards us from seemingly nowhere. Her name tag read ‘Luann.’ She already looked skeptical of the two young adults who had stumbled into her store. “What brings you in today?”

“I’m in the market for some new clothes for my baby,” Kylie said, not missing a beat. ‘My baby’ wasn’t something I expected to hear her say.

“Well, of course,” Luann said. “How old is your little one?” There was still skepticism in her tone.

“Probably old enough,” Kylie said, starting to scan the clothes hanging from the racks.

Luann laughed, as if forced to acknowledge that Kylie had made some sort of joke, but it was clear that she also had no idea what Kylie meant. I wasn’t sure either.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” asked Luann. “We have a wide range of outfits that serve every need from casual to formal.”

“Actually,” Kylie said, “I think what I need is a diaper cover. Do you know what I mean? One of those poofy little cloth underpants that help keep a baby’s diaper in place?”

“I know what you mean, yes.” Luann’s patience seemed tested by Kylie, but she remained dedicated to her customer service training. “Come this way, I can show you what we have.”

I could see how Kylie was trying to embarrass me, but I couldn’t see where she was going with this. Her unpredictability made me nervous.

“Here,” Luann said, pointing to a shelf against the wall. “You’ll find that we have a wide range of covers from a number of different designers and–”

“But these are all really small,” Kylie said, cutting Luann off.

“Well, yes. Babies are usually…quite small.”

“See, my baby is kinda big. And he wears really big diapers, you know? So if I’m going to cover them up, I need something…well, bigger than these.”

Luann seemed somewhere between annoyed and confused. Perhaps she, too, could detect that Kylie had some sort of playful angle here, and just didn’t want to be a part of it.

“How big are we talking?” Luann asked, in the cadence of the straight-man who was tasked with setting up the punchline of the joke.

“Oh,” Kylie said, pointing towards me. “He’s right here. We could just ask him. Hey, Clarky, how big are your diapers?”

I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say. Would I be better served playing along with Kylie, or apologizing to Luann?

Luann spared me from making a decision: “Young lady, I have actual customers that I could be helping. So unless you have serious plans to make a purchase, then I suggest you…”

Unphased by Luann’s tone, Kylie took a step closer to me. “Do you not believe me? I can show you.”

And with a single firm tug, she made my worst nightmare come true, managing to pull the waistband of my pants down from my hips to my thighs, leaving me standing in the middle of the store with my large, mildly-soaked, diaper on display. I quickly pulled my pants back up, struggling for a moment to get my pants over the bulk of the diaper’s padding. By the time they were back in place, the damage had been done. In addition to Luann, a handful of other shoppers had clearly spotted my diaper. Young mothers and other employees across the store had all stopped what they were doing, trying to wrap their heads around what they were seeing.

“Well…” Luann seemed beside herself now, unsure how to process the sight of my diaper. “I don’t think we have diaper covers that big. You’d probably need to order something from a specialized store online.” It was probably the best answer she could’ve given.

“Fair enough,” Kylie said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Come on, babypants. Let’s get you out of here.” She grasped me by my arm and pulled me back out of the shop.

I was as frazzled as she was happy with herself. She was practically skipping, her steps having a little extra pep in them as we walked through the mall.

“That was fun,” she said. “What do you think? Should we try that in a few more stores?”

“N-no, I think I’m good.”

But I could see into the future. Maybe it was a few months from now, or maybe it would be years. But my chastity cage would be off, and I’d be sitting there with my cock in my hand. And I’d think about the humiliating rush I felt when I saw Luann’s eyes grow large at the sight of my soggy diaper. I’d never forget that.

“Party pooper,” she muttered.

Pooper. The word echoed in my skull, pairing nicely with the sudden discomfort I felt in my bowels. I could probably hold it for a while.

But…

Did I want to? Kylie seemed to have the upper-hand for as long as she could control my humiliation. She wasn’t Mommy, though. She didn’t have an answer for everything, and I already knew some of Kylie’s limitations.

I had an uncharacteristically naughty thought: What would happen if I introduced a little chaos to Kylie’s day at the mall?

 

[kirababy]

He could really make her squirm too.  But the possible downside is being in public messy and she rises to the occasion and uses it to her advantage too.   As well, a messy diaper in public would probably be something worthy of a photo to send to Mommy and Lyndie.  Following along...

[D503]

I'm sure Clarky would love to "rise to the occasion" as well, but he can't ?

Perhaps his antics might backfire and he's reported to mommy for being very naughty and she schools Kylie on something he's not very familiar yet: discipline. 

[quietlyhumiliated]

Thirty-Four

Lyndie: Hey! Just checking in. How’s things going with Mommy? Today’s the conference, right? Did she drag you along with her?

It was good to get a text from Lyndie. But I had absolutely no idea how to start explaining this situation to her. She’d hear all about it eventually, so I offered only a teaser:

Me: What if I told you that I was contemplating filling my diaper in a shopping mall to spite a teenage girl?

Lyndie: I don’t know what’s happening, but I really wish I could’ve come on this trip.

Me: Me too.

“Just a few more stores,” Kylie said.

She had only tried the stunt she pulled at Luann’s store one more time, though it didn’t really work as well as it had the first time. She had the department store sales associate lead us to some strollers, before revealing that she wanted a stroller that would fit me–the actual big baby. This woman seemed completely unimpressed and uninterested in whatever game Kylie was playing. And when Kylie went in to give my pants a tug, she found them to be a little tighter this time, and unbudging. The employee walked away, leaving Kylie to look a little foolish.

Kylie hadn’t repeated the little game since, but I could never rule it out. She was probably waiting for me to let my guard down before springing it on me again.

Instead, she was back to just shopping. Spending money. Accumulating more bags, that I was then responsible for carrying.

Meanwhile, as I followed her around, I was contemplating my own little plan. I hadn’t fully committed to it yet, but it felt a little spicier everytime I mulled it over. It would be simple: I’d just release my bowels and fill my diaper. Then, unwilling to either change me or have me follow her around, she’d be forced to take me back to the suite. Her disgust for my smelly diaper would be the icing on the cake.

Of course, this actually required me to, you know, poop my pants. In public. Which, when possible, was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. It was what pushed my little revenge fantasy to the backburner.

“Do you see him?” she asked as we walked, motioning towards a guy reading his phone on a bench.

“What about him?”

“He’s cute.”

Shaggy dark hair. Stained and torn jeans. Worn black Nirvana t-shirt. Is this what passed as ‘hot’ today?

I shrugged, not only uninterested, but unsure why she’d point him out to me in the first place.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Should I go say hi?”

“Are you…confiding in me about a boy?”

She scoffed. “You’re right. I should only confide in you if I see a cute teddy bear on a shelf. That’s more your level of expertise, right?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Okay,” I said. “Have fun. I’ll be over here when you’re done.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because your Mommy will murder me if I lost you.”

I rolled my eyes again. “I’m not, like, an actual infant, you know? I’m older than you are.”

“And which one of us still needs their diapers changed? Just come over here.”

Her hand was on my arm again and she tugged me towards her prey. Maybe I could’ve resisted a little longer, but I had grown accustomed to just following someone when they were leading me.

“Hey,” she said to the guy.

“Hey,” he said, looking up from his phone. Up close, he looked a few years older than he did initially. Older than me, probably.

“What’s up?” she asked, her head tilting while her voice went up an octave. Is this flirting?

She had lazily cast her line, and he was biting. “Not much,” he said, shrugging. “Haven’t see you around here before.”

“I’m just visiting.”

“Cool,” he said. His eyes lit up, happy with that information. “I’m Vic.”

“Kylie,” she responded. “Mind if I sit down here?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

I almost rolled my eyes again, but wasn’t sure how obvious it would be. I let the two potential lovebirds have their conversation while I pulled out my phone to view a new text from Lyndie.

Lyndie: What about last night? You and Mommy have some fun?

I felt myself blushing. ‘Fun’ was a vast understatement.

Me: It was a good time.

In the background, I could hear Kylie and Vic yammering. It baffled me that they had anything to talk about at all.

“...was supposed to meet some friends,” Vic was saying. “But they bailed on me.”

Kylie shrugged. “Well, I’m not doing anything.”

“Who’s that?” he asked, motioning towards me.

She laughed. “He’s not, like, my friend or anything. Just, like, a friend of a friend. I agreed to take him to the mall today.”

Interesting. When she was talking to anyone else, she was more than willing to throw me under the bus and expose me for the diaper-wearing baby I was. But she suddenly seemed to care a little more about how my diapers made her look.

I went back to my phone, seeing a new text.

Lyndie: Yeah, but did she actually let you get off??

Me: Yeah.

Lyndie: Holy shit. She actually took the cage off of you?

Me: Actually…she didn’t take the cage off.

Lyndie: Interesting! God, I need to hear all the details when you get back.

Me: If I don’t share them with you, I’m sure Mommy will.

I had no idea what Vic and Kylie were talking about now. I tuned it out, scrolling through my phone in search of distractions. Occasionally I’d pick up on an exaggerated laugh from Kylie. Her supposed third goal of making out with someone today might actually come true after all.

“I was going to head back to my place,” I heard him say. “Maybe smoke something and watch a movie.”

“You, uh, have your own place?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. If you’re not doing anything and want to swing by later…”

I watched as her eyes swung over towards me. “I should probably drop this one off at home first.”

“Well, like, I could give you two a lift,” he said. “We could drop him off and then take you back to my place for a while?”

“That sounds pretty good to me,” she said. “And if we drop him off, I could grab some liquor too.”

I didn’t actually care what she did. Regardless of the roles we played, we were still adults. Adults who had just graduated high school, and adults who still wore diapers. But…we were adults.

But I found myself a little miffed by this anyway. Mommy had trusted Kylie to be my babysitter today, only for Kylie to want to run off with the first Nirvana shirt she spotted alone on a bench. Also, I still felt like I owed her a little comeuppance for her attempts at causing trouble for me at the mall.

I checked in with my bowels. Online and ready to deploy. It was either now or never.

I bit my lip, going through the pros and cons of going through with this one last time. I could hear Mommy’s voice in my head: “You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re a caregiver. You’re simply there when you’re needed.” I actually wasn’t sure if she had ever said that before or not, but it sounded like something she’d say.

I had made up my mind.

“Actually,” I said, stepping closer to the bench and pulling away Kylie’s attention. “I think we need to get back to the suite soon. I…I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

Kylie’s eyes grew large and steam seemed to come out of her ears. “Wh-what do you mean by that?”

“I think I’m going to…” Deep breath. “...make a poopy in my diaper.”

“Wait,” Vic said, scratching his head. “What did he just say?”

Kylie’s face had gone pale, seeming just as disbelieving as Vic. “Clark, what the hell? Why would you, uh, make a weird joke like that?”

She was trying only to protect herself and remain in Vic’s good graces. It also served as a jumping-off point for me. I didn’t have to go forward with this–I could just back off and only lose a little more of my dignity with people I’d probably never see again anyway.

But, no. Mommy was going to be so proud of me later.

“You said you’d change my diaper if I had an accident, Kylie. And, uhm…it’s about to happen.”

Kylie seemed to have no idea how to handle this situation. First, she turned to Vic: “Look, he’s just joking around and, uh…” Then, she turned back to me: “Don’t… Don’t do that.”

It wasn’t completely clear what that was. For sure, she wanted me to stop talking about diapers and pooping. But I wondered: Did she actually think I’d do it? How much did she think I was actually bluffing in an effort to embarrass her.

“I-I’m sorry, Kylie. It’s too late. I’m…unnnhh…not going to…errhnn…make it…”

I hoped to be, at least, nominated for an acting award for this performance. Though, truth be told, it wasn’t that much of a performance at all. The grunts? My legs widening so that I could squat down? None of that was embellished much–it all needed to happen for me to push this load into my diaper.

With another, slightly exaggerated, grunt, I felt my bottom open up and the sizable mass slide into my diaper. With my pants on, it was probably hard to tell that the backside of my diaper was changing shape and growing heavier as it was filled. But there were more than enough signs that I was actually pooping myself. My grunts and my reddening face, for sure. But the sounds of the diaper itself, too. The tell-tale sputtering and flatulence, and the crackling crinkle of the plastic diaper being stretched to its limits seemed louder than they ever had before. And the diaper’s stench was already forming a cloud around me, set to spread out in every direction possible soon enough.

And I hadn’t just convinced Kylie and Vic of what I had done–others in the area had stopped and watched me, perhaps trying to determine if I was actually doing what they thought I was.

“Goddamnit, Clark,” Kylie said, shaking her head. Her cheeks were scarlet now.

“Look,” Vic said, standing up. “I’m, uh, going to get going.”

“W-wait,” she pleaded. “I can explain. We can still hang out, and we don’t have to, like, bring him. And…”

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” he said pointing to me with one hand while waving the other in front of his nose. “But I think you need to take care of it.”

Then he got up and left.

Kylie jogged after him for a few feet, but gave up quickly. Even if she had caught up to him, there probably wasn’t an easy way to recover any of her own dignity. For one, she’d have to explain why her companion just pooped his pants at the mall. And she barely knew the answer to that for herself.

“I can’t believe you,” she said, marching back to me.

“I…I had to go,” I said. “Sorry.”

“You smell awful.”

“Well, I did just…”

“I know what you did,” she spat. “I just can’t believe that you’d do that here. And now. You’re disgusting.”

“Can we, uh, go back to the suite now?”

“No,” she said. “Fuck no. I’m done playing stupid games with you. I’m not going to sit around with you and your dirty diaper. And I’m sure as hell not going to change you. So congratulations on being the stupid little infant you want to be. Adios.”

“Wait,” I said, calling after her as she began to walk away. “Where are you going?”

“I’m done,” she said. “I’m taking my bags back to my own hotel room.”

“But what about me?”

“What about you? Doesn’t this mall have a place for moms to drop off their babies? Go there and see if they’ll change your diaper and put you down for a nap. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”

I could’ve followed. I didn’t. Much like her and Vic, I wasn’t sure what I could say that would get her to stick around. My increasingly stinky diaper wouldn’t have helped that argument. Also, said diaper would’ve made pursuit quite challenging.

So now she was gone too, and I was left standing by myself in the middle of a strange mall in a strange city, my diaper filled to the brim.

First things first–I needed to get out of there. I waddled as quickly as I could towards an exit. My odor followed me, a toxic cloud that drew everyone’s eyes to me as I passed. I swore I shuffled past a few familiar faces. Was that the girl from the escalator? Was that Luann? One of the women that overheard Kylie’s loud comments on my diapers? Maybe I was just imagining it, but I swore that I could see a glimmer of comprehension on all their faces. A look that said: “Well well well, looks like he actually does need diapers.”

The air of the parking lot–a mix of tar, exhaust fumes and trash cans–was hardly fresh, but it seemed to cut through the noxious fumes wafting off my filthy diaper, and I welcomed it.

Now, how the hell do I get out of here?

I could just call a ride. But that would mean subjecting them to the contents of my diaper for the entirety of the ride. And it wasn’t a close enough walk even if I wasn’t wearing a toilet between my legs.

I needed to tell someone where I was. Lyndie? No, what could she do? Mommy?

She was, no doubt, busy at her conference. Dared I pull her away for that? For this?

But I didn’t know what else to do. I could have, maybe, returned to the mall, found the most discreet bathroom I could and do my best to take off the diaper and clean myself off–even though I didn’t have a spare diaper or even any baby wipes.

It was at this moment that my phone vibrated. The cosmos deciding to throw me a bone: It was Mommy.

Mommy: How are things going with Kylie, baby? She treating you okay?

I sighed, pacing around a mostly deserted part of the parking lot for a few minutes as I debated how to use the lifeline that had been tossed to me.

Really, there was only one option for me: the truth.

Me: Mommy, I’m really sorry, but I think I made a really bad decision.

I waited a moment for a response, but then decided to just start telling her the story anyway. I kept it simple, figuring I could fill in the details later. I told her how Kylie dragged me to the mall. How Kylie met Vic, and had come close to heading back to his place with him. I told her about my decision to mess my diaper–and how Kylie abandoned me almost immediately after.

There wasn’t an immediate response to this text-vomit, and so I continued to pace, growing increasingly nervous about what her reaction would be.

Finally, it came, and I felt my phone vibrating in my tight grip.

Mommy: I see.

Thankfully, she quickly followed this up.

Mommy: To be clear, I’m not mad at YOU, Baby. But I’m not happy about this situation. Where are you now?

I told her where I was. The mall. The specific parking lot. I reiterated that my diaper was in a catastrophic state.

Mommy: I realize that it’ll be embarrassing, but I’m going to have to call you a ride. But I’ll call my driver and explain the situation.

And, just as I was about to ask what to do with my diaper once I did get back to the suite…

Mommy: And, I’ll take care of your diaper soon enough.

The hard parts weren’t over yet–I’d still need to be driven home in my nauseating state. But relief was at least on the horizon. Mommy, as per usual, was there for me to make things right.

The black town car pulled up in a surprisingly short amount of time. It was Joel again, and he stepped out of the car and opened the back door for me. There was already a towel on the seat.

“Your, uh, mother told me about your accident,” he said. “I don’t mean to offend with the towel, but…”

“N-no,” I said. “I get it.”

His use of ‘mother,’ was interesting. I wondered what he thought of our dynamic. Did he see it for what it actually was? Had Mommy filled him in on the need-to-know details? Or was he just completely lost? I certainly wouldn’t have blamed him if it was the latter.

We drove back to the suite with the windows open. Neither of us had much of anything to say–which I preferred.

“Thank you,” I said to him when he dropped me off at the door of the hotel. “I’m…sorry if it smells like me after you leave.”

He shrugged. “When someone tips like your mother, there’s a lot I’m willing to deal with.”

One last hurdle to go: the journey from the lobby back to the suite. And two steps into the lobby, just as I’m starting to sweat again while I try to figure out the path of least exposure, I spot Kylie.

“There you are,” she said, walking towards me.

I let out a confused: “Huh?”

“I was looking for you everywhere in the mall. Where did you run off to?”

I shook my head, as if trying to clear away cobwebs that caused me to misremember the previous hour. “Where did I run off to? Y-you were the one who…”

“I’m sorry I got mad,” she said, shrugging. “But as soon as I walked away, I realized that I had been a little harsh. So, you know, I immediately went back to find you.”

No. No way. I didn’t know Kylie well, but I knew that she wouldn’t have gone back looking for me. And her tone now? The lack of snark or name calling?

She realized she had fucked up. Mommy not only trusted her with me today, but there were things on the line for Kylie. Photos and truth that she could pass along to Gretchen. Kylie had come back only to try and save face.

Too little, too late, I suspected. But I quickly decided I’d let Mommy be the judge, jury, and executioner.

“Come on,” she said. “Lets get you back up to your suite. You, uh, still need your…diaper…changed, right?” The sound of her voice said it all: She was even willing to do the one thing she swore she’d never do to get back into Mommy’s good graces again.

“Mommy said she’d handle it,” I said, as Kylie got us an elevator and escorted me into it.

“Is…Ms. Heller coming back soon?” she asked.

“I think? I’m not sure.”

But when I scanned my keycard to unlock the suite’s door, the very first thing we saw was Mommy, already waiting for us with her arms folded in front of her.

“I’m so glad the two of you are back. Baby? I think you’re overdue for a diaper change. And Kylie? You and I are going to need to have a little conversation when I’m done with him.”

For the second time that day, I saw the color disappear from the supposed queen-bee’s face.

[bigbear95]

Oh boy, I wonder what mommy has in store for Kylie. Whatever it is, it’s not gonna end well for her. ??

[kirababy]

interesting turn of events, and one that will be sorted out rightly.  Best guess is they both get into some trouble...

[quietlyhumiliated]

Thirty-Five

“It doesn’t happen often,” Mommy said. “And it’s even less often that I’m willing to admit it. But it was a mistake to have Kylie look after you today.”

As she said this, I was on my back in the makeshift nursery. My dirty diaper was pulled open, revealing today’s foul contents–squished and smeared on my backside following my ride home from the mall.

I probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway, but she had pushed a pacifier into my mouth, and gently suckled on it as she took care of me. Honestly, it felt good to not have to talk at all. Being a baby was easier when I was expected to talk often.

“But an interesting situation had landed in my lap,” she continued. “I suppose I shouldn’t have texted her while pretending to be you. But I was curious to see what she wanted, and what she was willing to do to get it. As it turns out, I barely had to press for her to send me a barrage of explicit texts and photos. Honestly, I’m sorry that you didn’t get to see them. You might’ve liked them. Alas, you’re much too small.”

I moaned a little as she guided a wipe around the base of my caged cock. Her touch would never not excite me.

“I’m sure the poor girl regrets doing that now. All that ammunition she’s given to me, you know?”

“Mmmhmm,” I mindlessly cooed back to her through my pacifier. I was only partially listening to her words. I got the jist of what she was saying, but some of the details were missing me.

“I need to do something, yes? She may claim to be an adult now, but that doesn’t make her exempt from consequences.”

I laughed as I had the mental image of Kylie’s skirt being pulled up as she was hoisted over Mommy’s knees for a paddling. Seemed unlikely, but I wasn’t sure what else Mommy could mean by a word like ‘consequences.’

If Mommy had more musing to do on what she’d do with Kylie, she kept it to herself. Instead, she was back to focusing on me. It didn’t matter how big the mess was, how much it had spread, or how many times I had sat in it. She knew how to take care of it, and she didn’t make a single fuss about it.

“A new diaper will feel pretty good about now, won’t it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Babies choice. Teddybears or unicorns?”

I was feeling whimsical: “Unicornth.”

I returned to the living room a few minutes later, crawling on my hands and knees in my fresh unicorn diaper and rainbow colored onesie. Kylie clearly didn’t want to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself.

Mommy walked out from behind me.

“I understand that you left the Baby at the mall today?” she asked.

“N-no,” Kylie said, trying her best to sound as collected and confident as she normally did. “That’s not what happened. I mean, sure, I got a little heated in the moment and stepped away. But I came right back.”

I knew that wasn’t what happened. Kylie knew that wasn’t what happened. Mommy knew that wasn’t what happened.

“And supposing that was true,” Mommy said. “Why did you storm off in the first place?”

“W-well…it wasn’t so much storming off as it was…” her voice trailed off. She seemed to have no clue where to take this lie.

“A baby is a very big responsibility,” Mommy said. “And, it usually goes without saying: the bigger the baby, the bigger the responsibility.”

Kylie sighed. “Look, can we cut the theatrics? I get it–you and your assistant are playing some fucked-up version of make-believe and you get your jollies off by keeping him in diapers. I get that. And I get that you were trying to embarrass the both of us by making us spend time together. You’ve got some incriminating information on me, and you’re going to hold it over me, right? So…just cut the bullshit and tell me what you want me to do so that you don’t make my life a living hell by talking to my mom.”

I hadn’t ever heard anyone talk to Mommy like this before. What more…she wasn’t entirely wrong. Mommy could push me around all day with her condescending tone. But Kylie didn’t live in our world.

Mommy took her time responding. She never looked flustered or speechless–just contemplative. She was a cat who had caught a mouse, and she was debating how she wanted to play with it.

“‘Fucked-up version of make-believe?’” Mommy said, laughing to herself. “I have to say, I rather like that phrase. I’m going to use it later. I hope you don’t mind me taking that.”

“Whatever,” Kylie said, that classic bratty tone coming back.

“But, here’s the thing,” Mommy continued. “You’re a part of this now, whether you like it or not. You made that choice when you sent ‘Clark’ naughty photos of yourself in an effort to entice ‘him’ to get you alcohol. You made that choice when you dragged him to the mall in his diaper and tried to humiliate him.”

“Hrm,” Kylie mumbled–possibly accepting that Mommy was right.

“And so you’re going to do what I tell you to do, and I’m not going to feel bad about it.”

Kylie sighed. “Fine. What do you want? Do you want me to change his dirty diapers? Give him a bath? Feed him a bottle?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Mommy said. “In a short amount of time, you’ve proven to me that you’re just not an effective caregiver. Or, at least, not good enough of one to take care of my Clark.”

I couldn’t help but swoon at the mention of being called her Clark. My cheeks warmed and my entire body felt weightless for a moment.

Kylie, on the other hand, seemed exasperated. “Well, what the fuck do you want from me then?”

Mommy laughed. “I want you to learn a few lessons on humility, dear. Maybe spending a little more time as a child will help you better appreciate the womanhood you’re on the cusp of.”

“Huh?” Kylie seemed confused about Mommy’s statement for a moment, but then she looked at me again, her eyes meeting mine. She sighed, likely understanding exactly what Mommy was asking of her. “I can’t…you can’t make me…”

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” Mommy said. “But we can both agree that there are plenty of reasons for you to want to play along.”

“Do you…really want me to wear a diaper?” Kylie asked, looking down at me again.

“I think you belong in one,” Mommy said.

“You won’t tell my mother?” asked Kylie. “About…anything?”

“You have my word.”

“Fine.”

“This will be good for you,” Mommy said, smiling widely. “Let me get a few things together.” She pivoted and walked back into the room where she had just changed my smelly diaper minutes earlier.

“Goddamn,” Kylie muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

I continued to stare at her, studying her expression and body language. She seemed nervous and tense, for sure. But I swore I could detect something else. Maybe the slightest bit of curiosity?

“Kylie,” came Mommy’s voice from the other room. “Come here.”

Kylie sighed and obeyed, making her way to the room.

“Baby,” Mommy called next. “I want you to come as well.”

“Yeth, Mommy.”

We found Mommy sitting on the edge of the bed. On the floor, at our makeshift changing area, a new diaper and a bottle of baby powder were waiting.

“First things first,” Mommy said, patting her lap. “Kylie, I’m afraid I need to teach you a few lessons.”

“Are you going to…spank me?”

“I’d say you’re overdue for one.”

“I don’t know…” Kylie looked back at me, and then to the door. I could only assume she was considering her options. I was curious, myself, as to which was a better option: subjected to Mommy’s punishment, or for her to contend with her own mother.

“Okay,” Kylie said with a sigh. “I guess you can, uh, spank me.”

“It’s cute of you to think that you’re granting me permission,” Mommy said.

“Does he have to watch?” Kylie asked.

“If I was giving him a good paddling while you were here, I’m sure you’d want to see that, yes?”

She scoffed. “Whatever.” Kylie held her head high as she made a little strut over towards Mommy. She was doing her best to pretend that she didn’t care, and that this wasn’t actually that big of a deal. Bratty until the end, I had to respect that.

“Surely, you’ve been spanked before,” Mommy said, patting her lap again.

“I don’t think so.”

Mommy laughed. “Well then you’re very overdue. Hurry now, over my knees.”

One last sigh, and Kylie plopped herself over Mommy’s lap. It was as glorious a sight as what I had imagined it to be earlier while my diaper was getting changed. This defiant queen-bee, reduced to the little girl she actually was.

“Can you at least make it quick?” Kylie muttered. Interesting final words, I thought.

“Oh, one more thing,” Mommy said. “I fully intend to clean out that mouth of yours as well. A proper young lady shouldn’t be swearing and talking back as often as you are.”

Kylie, opened her mouth–likely ready to offer some smart-ass response–but Mommy was ready, plugging her open mouth with…a bar of soap. Kylie’s eyes grew large and she made a muffled gurgling noise as she realized what she was biting on.

“I expect you to hold that in your mouth until I’m done with your bottom, little girl. Because if that soap should slide or fall out of your mouth, I’m doubling the amount of swats.”

I can see it in Kylie’s eyes–doubt. Maybe she doubts that Mommy will follow through with what she threatens. Maybe she doubts that it’s that hard to keep a bar of soap in her mouth while getting spanked. Maybe it’s that she just doesn’t think that a paddling over another woman’s lap is something to be afraid of.

If that’s the case, she’s in for a surprise.

“Mmm? Hmm…” Kylie, soap still locked between her teeth, seemed unprepared for her skirt being lifted up and her panties–bright pink with black lace trim–being pulled down to expose her perfect sphere of an ass.

“Oh my,” Mommy said, gliding the back of her hand down Kylie’s rear. “Ah, to be young again. I see you’ve put a lot of work into this.” To me: “Don’t get any ideas, Baby. As succulent as this looks, I can’t allow you to take a bite out of this.”

My cock, as it always seemed to, strained in its cage.

The first strike came unexpectedly, and with great speed. WHAP!

“Hggghhhhaaaaaaah!” Kylie exclaimed through the bar of soap. No, she clearly hadn’t known what to expect from a spanking.

“Good girl,” Mommy cooed. “Keep that soap in your mouth.

SMACK!

“Ugggghh!”

Then a flurry of quick slaps. WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!

“Unnnnnhh,” Kylie groaned, followed by an especially whiney: “Auuughhhuuuughh…” She was crying, and tears were rolling down her bright red cheeks. I had seen that look of absolute shame and defeat before in myself. Of course, I had never needed a bar of soap stuffed into my mouth, so I wasn’t familiar the streams of sudsy drool pouring out from the sides of her mouth.

There were a few more well-placed slaps and one finale barrage of spanks before Mommy finally changed gears, rubbing Kylie’s shapely bottom with her hand.

“There,” she said to the blubbering girl. “Have I managed to smack a little humility into your world.”

“Thuh…” mumbled Kylie. “Thuhhh.”

Mommy grasped the bar of soap and slowly pulled it from her mouth, revealing the little bite marks Kylie had put in it. A towel was already in Mommy’s hand, giving Kylie a place to spit the remaining residue that lingered in her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Mommy said. “Would you mind saying whatever that was again?”

“Sorry,” Kylie said, softly. “I was trying to say that I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For…not being a good babysitter.”

“And?”

“Uhm…being a brat?”

“You shouldn’t have to ask.”

“I was a brat,” Kylie said.

“But I could tell,” said Mommy. “Not just that you needed it, but that you knew that you needed it. Am I right?”

“Y-yes,” Kylie responded, sighing. I don’t think Kylie is that good of an actress–I believed her words.

“Good girl. Now, let’s get you down on your back for your diaper, yes?”

Kylie offered a noncommittal shrug–probably the best response anyone could hope for. She slowly slid down from Mommy’s lap, landing in a limpish pile on the floor before getting up on her hands and knees and crawling over to the changing pad.

I wanted to say something, but I bit my tongue. I imagined I would’ve said something like, “Looks like you’re on my level now, Kylie,” but I thought better of it. She was probably thinking the same thing anyway.

“Do you see what a little discipline can do?” Mommy said, though it wasn’t entirely clear who she was talking to. “It can reduce anyone to a blubbering baby. Even the toughest amongst us have an inner-baby that a few good spanks will get out of them.”

I wanted to ask if that included her. The thought of Mommy in a diaper, crawling around…

Ow, my cock…

I kept that one to myself too.

“Your panties are going to have to come off,” she said to Kylie.

“Okay,” a resigned Kylie said. Just the way Mommy liked ‘em–beaten into submission.

Mommy pulls the bright pink panties down Kylie’s slender legs and tosses them at my feet. Seeing Kylie’s exposed womanhood between her legs while her panties were at my feet…it caused my cock to ache tremendously.

… Am I hallucinating, or…?

I’m almost positive that I detect a wet patch in the crotch of the panties. Perhaps the paddling had given Kylie more than just discipline.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Kylie said to me, slowly rotating her head towards me. Even if her voice seemed to have lost most of its power, there was still a little snarl left in her.

“What do you think he’s going to do?” Mommy asked her. “Grab your panties and put them on himself?”

“Who knows.”

“It’s not in Baby’s best interest to take things that might arouse him,” Mommy said, her face turning to glance at me long enough to wink. “All that sexual energy and few places to put it.”

“What do you mean?” Kylie asked softly.

Mommy was already flattening out a fresh new diaper on the carpet. She grabbed Kylie’s ankles and lifted them into the air to elevate her bottom. As always, Mommy treated it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Kylie seemed skeptical, but at least willing to go along with it for the moment. She seemed oddly docile. Willing. Except for the bit about being concerned with what I’d do with her panties.

“Oh,” Mommy said to her. “You don’t know? About his…little cage?”

Kylie shook her head, though I could see her lips curling a little bit. She was curiously delighted.

“It’s a shame, because I’d have liked it if you found it for yourself while changing his diaper. Well, anyway, I like to keep Baby on his best behavior by…well, locking up the naughtiest part of him.”

Kylie giggled.

“Could you use a locking-up too? Does your little kitty get you into trouble much?”

Kylie’s face immediately grew a deep shade of red. Perhaps at being called out, or perhaps at just the idea of being locked up too.

“I don’t judge,” Mommy said. “Big boys and girls can do whatever they please. Of course, you have to grow up, first. And if you’re wearing a diaper, I’d say that you haven’t grown up yet.”

And with those words, Mommy put Kylie into her diaper.

I sometimes thought about how I wished I knew about my latent diaper fetish a long time ago. First Ava, and now Kylie–there was something about a pretty girl in a diaper that really, really, worked for me.

“Well, Kylie, what do you think?”

Kylie remained on her back as her hands explored the crinkly new object wrapped around her midsection. She squeezed and pressed at it, seeming to be quite surprised by just how bulky it was. I remained quite surprised by how well she seemed to be rolling with this. She had laughed and mocked me all day for my diapers, and now it was as if…she liked it.

But then I saw the detail I was missing. I watched as Mommy extended a hand down to Kylie, and how Kylie took it–their eyes meeting. I couldn’t quite decipher the look on Kylie’s face at first. However, when Kylie was on her feet again, her arms were open and she hugged Mommy.

“Thank you,” she said to Mommy.

Mommy was right–a little discipline had done Kylie very well. Yet, this wasn’t the detail I had been missing. It struck me, at that moment, that what Kylie had actually needed was a mother. Someone to both punish her and praise her. Someone who would take care of her. Someone who, if nothing else, paid attention to her.

I was happy for Kylie.

I was also jealous. Were I the bratty-type, I’d have told her to get her own Mommy. Instead, I kept my mouth clenched shut.

“Baby,” Mommy said, looking towards me. “Could you be a dear and grab a bottle of milk from the fridge for Kylie?”

“Y-yes, Mommy,” I said, my voice on the cusp of muttering. I’d do anything she asked, but it didn’t mean that I liked it.

I made my way towards the kitchen, when I suddenly remembered something that Mommy had told Kylie earlier today–back when Kylie was still seen as an adult. She had said that she had left a bottle in the fridge for me. A ‘special’ bottle that would clear me of any constipation, if I had any.

I opened the fridge and spotted it–a single baby bottle at the front of the shelf, filled with what I would’ve assumed was just milk. I actually laughed out loud. This was Mommy in a nutshell–intensely nurturing, until she made you do something intensely humiliating.

This is for pulling my pants down at the mall today.

I tried really hard not to smile too much as I handed the bottle to Mommy.

[D503]

Nice chapter! Fun to see where it goes.

[Babypants]

I wonder if Clark knows what physically follows from soaping someone's mouth in this fashion.  There are a number of responses, but diarrhea seems to be the most common.  Hopefully, Ms. Heller knows the score, and will see to it that the girl is well hydrated.  Kylie's first adult diaper should prove a memorable one!

[kirababy]

outstanding chapter.   Love where we are at, at the cusp of a lot of things, it seems.

[quietlyhumiliated]

Thirty-Six

“What’s in this, anyway?” Kylie asked, pulling her mouth from the nipple for just a moment–strings of saliva stretched between the bottle and her lips.

“Is it good?” asked Mommy.

“Is it just milk? I can’t remember the last time I drank a glass of milk.”

Mommy laughed a little to herself–a knowing chuckle that Kylie might look back on in hindsight and consider an omen. I was grateful Mommy didn’t look in my direction–I was barely holding back some laughs myself, and I definitely would have lost it if Mommy and I made eye contact.

Instead, I focused on the fresh diaper that Mommy had put me in not that long ago. I emptied my bladder into it–just a little seconds-long stream–with barely any thought or pause. This seemed to be happening more and more as of late. At times it seemed a little concerning, though never to the degree that I thought I needed to make a change in my lifestyle. It didn’t feel like my potty-training had just…expired. I still felt like, if I really wanted to, I could make it to the toilet before it was too late. The new routine was not having a routine at all–if I had to go, there was little point in holding it, and so I’d just let it go.

Actually, maybe that’s exactly what losing one’s potty-training is…

Kylie continued to slurp away at her bottle. I was actually kind of surprised that Kylie, herself, didn’t question the contents of the bottle more than she had. Mommy had explicitly told her, earlier today, what was in the bottle in the fridge and what it was for. Had Kylie just not been paying attention? Or did she have all the sense paddled out of her?

The room was completely silent as Mommy and I watched Kylie down the milk.

“All done,” Kylie said, thrusting her hand out towards Mommy with an empty bottle in hand.

“You drank that quicker than I thought you would,” Mommy said. “Was it good?”

Kylie blushed a little, wiping away a small dribble of milk from the corner of her mouth. “Yes…”

“You’ve taken to infancy rather well.”

“This isn’t going to leave this room, right?” Kylie asked. “You’re not going to tell anyone? You’re not going to parade me around town in a diaper?”

Mommy laughed. “You’ve earned my silence. And as much as I’d love to take my babies around town, I think you’ve been cooperative enough that I’ll spare you that experience.”

Kylie nodded, the answers to her questions seeming sufficient enough for her to share more. “I…like this.”

“Yes, we know,” Mommy said.

“Thank you,” Kylie says. “I needed this.”

“We knew that as well. Didn’t we, Baby?” she asks me.

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Now, babies, I had to rush back to the hotel room to take care of this little situation–I should’ve never left a baby in charge of a baby. Thankfully, I had finished the conference panels I was on at that point, though I suspect there’s a few people who wanted to talk to me there who are wondering where I ran off to. I’ll need to make a few calls in the other room. Is it at all possible that I can leave the two of you alone for a little bit without worrying about you getting into trouble?”

“We’ll do our best,” I said.

Kylie just shrugged.

“I’ve got plenty of energy left in my spanking hand, just keep that in mind.”

We said nothing, as we both believed that to be the truth. Mommy left the room, returning to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. In less than a minute, I could hear the muffled tone of her voice talking on her phone.

“Well,” I said, turning to Kylie, “welcome to…babyhood, I guess.”

Kylie sighed, looking a little flustered. “I…I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I did think that she had a lot to be sorry for, I just wasn’t sure what this particular apology was for.

“Oh…a lot of things. I was mean to you, for one.”

I felt my cheeks warm a little. There seemed to be little point in withholding the truth from her at this point: “I liked it.”

“You probably did,” she said. “But I didn’t want you to like it.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Believe it or not, I’ve experienced much worse.”

Her ears perked up a little. “Like what?”

A rush of memories played in my head like a highlight reel. Getting passed around the laps of the executives in the boardroom. Messing myself in front of Lyndie. Being marched through the office in disgusting diapers. Pizza Girl standing in my doorway, looking down at my diaper and smirking.

I finally just laughed, shaking my head. “Probably anything you can imagine. And if I haven’t done it yet, I assume that it’s only a matter of time before it happens.”

“You pooped your pants at the mall,” she said, grinning a little. “That has to rank pretty high on the list of the worst things you’ve ever done.”

“Probably. I’m, uh, sorry I ruined things with that guy.” I wasn’t actually sorry, but it felt like the right thing to say.

She shrugged. “That probably wasn’t going to happen anyway. Or, at least not like I thought it would.”

“Is that something you do often? Go to new cities, meet strangers, and try to charm your way into their pants?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I sometimes think I want to be that kind of girl. But Ms. Heller kind of put things into perspective for me.”

“She has a knack for that. But…how so?”

“I’m just reminded that I really miss being a, uh, little girl. I guess. My mom stopped holding my hand at a pretty young age, you know? Figuratively and literally. And in my social scene back at home, you kind of have to grow up fast. It’s all about pretending to be mature and sexy and powerful and… I just miss drinking a bottle of milk and coloring with some crayons.”

“You’re in good company, then.”

“Fuck,” she said, rubbing her belly.

“What’s wrong?”

“My stomach doesn’t feel…good.”

“Oh. Something you ate? Or…” I glanced over to the countertop where Mommy had placed Kylie’s empty bottle.

“I dunno. I haven’t drank milk in a long time, so maybe it was just drinking so much of it at once.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s probably it.”

I was feeling guilty. It was one thing to push Kylie into diapers, but it was another to give her laxatives without her knowing. It seemed especially cruel to me. And while I wanted to tell Kylie the truth, it also felt like it’d be a betrayal of Mommy.

But what if, just this one time, Mommy was wrong?

It seemed a little too late for this epiphany, given that Kylie had already downed the entire bottle. But, I figured, I could probably do the next best thing.

“So…actually, I have something I should tell you.”

“Hmm?” She shrugged a little, as if there was little left in this world that would surprise her. “Did you poop your pants again?”

“N-no,” I said, my cheeks automatically warming at her guess. “But…you might.”

She squinted and tilted her head quizzically. “I don’t really see how that’s possible.”

“The, uh, bottle of milk,” I said, pointing to the empty bottle on the counter. “It’s the one Mommy…er…Ms. Heller left for me this morning, remember? The one she told you to give to me in case I needed it?”

I had quickly tried to image all the ways in which Kylie might have reacted–the possibilities ran the gamut from her punching me in the face to her getting up and running out of the suite and never being seen again.

Instead, she laughed. She just laughed.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Like, you understand what I’m telling you, right? The bottle probably had some sort of laxative in it.”

“Ah, fuck,” she said, laughing again as she shook her head. “You people are something else.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I actually feel kind of shitty about it.”

“But not as shitty as I’d feel, right? If I pooped in a diaper like you do?”

I sighed. “You have every right to be mad. It was kind of irresponsible to…”

“I’m not mad,” she said. “It’s just kind of silly. Did you think that I’d really squat down and mess myself in a diaper?”

“I guess I didn’t really think about it all that much…”

“Is Ms. Heller really expecting me to poop my pants? Like is this yet another hurdle I’m expected to jump through so that she doesn’t talk to my mother?”

“I have no idea.”

“At some point, I can’t keep playing this game anymore. What’s next? She’s going to make me suck on her tit before she puts me to bed in a giant crib?”

“Look, Kylie, I don’t really know what to tell you.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Like I said, I’m not mad. Just a little amused. But, like, laxatives don’t make you uncontrollably shit yourself, right? Or else nobody would take them.”

I shrugged, having no idea what Mommy put in the bottle. “I suppose you’re right.” If the bottle had been intended for me, she was probably counting on the fact that I’d just mess my diaper whenever the urges came over me.

“I’ll just go to the bathroom when I have to go,” she said with a shrug. “Easy peasy.’

“Or…”

She laughed. “Or?”

“What if you just…did it.”

“Did it? You mean, what if I just…filled my diaper up like a baby? Like you did?”

I nodded, bracing myself in case it wasn’t too late to experience that punch to the face. “Yeah…”

“What in the world makes you think I’d want to do that?”

“I just…I dunno. I mean, you seem to like diapers a little bit, right? And the way that, uh, Mommy treated you earlier? You just know she’d love to clean you up if you did. So, like, if you think you’d ever be curious about seeing what it feels like…maybe this is the time to do it?”

The room fell silent for a moment, and I watched the gears slowly turn in her head as she processed my words. From behind the bedroom door, I could hear Mommy talking on the phone. I couldn’t make out the words, but I could hear Mommy’s professional tone. She’d probably be tied up a while longer.

“Are you actually suggesting that I just…mess my diaper?”

I shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I know that.”

“Forget I said anything,” I said, suddenly realizing how insane it sounded to ask someone else to use their diaper like I did.

“Now hold on,” she said, stroking her chin. “I didn’t say that I wouldn’t.”

“R-really?”

“Maybe we could barter?”

“Barter? Like…how?”

“I can think of something–no, two things–I’d want in exchange for me making a mess in my diaper.”

My heart began beating faster. I wasn’t sure that I liked giving her any sort of leverage over me, especially when it came to her pooping her own diaper. But…I was at least curious to see what she had in mind.

“Like what?”

“I want to see your dick in its little chastity cage. That is what she has you locked up in, right?”

“Y-yeah.” That didn’t seem like that bad of a request. If she had asked, I might have even shown it to her without expecting her to have used her diaper in exchange. “And what was the other thing you wanted?”

“Since you’re the one who gave me the tainted bottle, I think you should have a front-seat view for the action.”

“How so?”

“I want your face pressed against the back of my diaper while I mess it.”

I immediately felt my cock strain within my cage as my face turned an entirely new shade of pink. I…wanted that. I wanted that very badly.

“Oh…” was all that I could muster.

“So? Do we have a deal?”

“Y-yeah. I think that’d work for me.”

“Okay, good. I guess we have a little time, right? I should probably wait for the laxatives to really kick in. I could make it all dramatic, right? Holding on for as long as I can before finally giving up the battle and just letting it all go?”

I’ve definitely been there before. “Well…whatever you want to do, I guess. Do you think you could…go? Now? If you had to?”

She shrugged. “Maybe? I’m feeling kinda…full. I don’t think I’ve gone in a bit, and I wonder if a bottle of milk, by itself, wouldn’t have been enough to get my insides going. But I could probably hold out a little longer.”

I nodded, feeling a little too overstimulated to know how to respond.

“But that means we have plenty of time,” she said. “If you, like, want to show me what’s in your diaper.”

I sighed. What would Mommy say? If she were here? She’d probably reach over and pull down the front of my diaper herself.

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess. But, like, you have to promise me that you’re not going to just run off and use a toilet later, then. We have a deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, sarcastically rolling her eyes. “But don’t forget that you need to jam your sniffer into my diaper while I’m taking a dump in it.”

My caged cock continued to throb. “I assure you, I didn’t forget.”

“Well then? C’mon. Show me what she’s got you locked up in.”

“Okay, fine. But…”

“I’m not going to promise that I won’t laugh at you,” she said, very likely reading my mind.

“Fair enough.”

I reached between my legs and unsnapped the bottom of the onesie, letting my mildly-moist diaper sag a little. Kylie made no effort to stifle her giggles at this sight–not that I could blame her.

“You must really want to see me use my diaper, huh?”

I laughed as I began to tug at the front of my diaper. Not only did I want to see her use her diaper, but I found myself very excited about the prospect of having such an up close and personal view of the action. Yet I was actually laughing about how easy it would’ve been to have gotten me to show my cage earlier. All she really had to do was ask.

And that, I think, went for everyone in the entire world. I’d probably do anything if I was asked to. Looking cute and wanting to humiliate me only made it easier.

I pulled down the front of the diaper just enough to allow my locked up manhood to flop out from it. There it was. Forever stuck in a state of softness, thanks to the LilNub.

“Holy shit,” she said. “That’s so…pathetic.”

My cheeks flared further and felt a new wave of shame wash over me. Even in a pair of diapers herself, and possibly on the verge of using them, she still seems to have the upperhand when it comes to humiliating me.

“It’s for Mommy, so…”

“Do you like it?”

“I like…her having that sort of control over me, yes.”

“But do you like the feeling of being locked up?”

“Not especially…”

“When’s the last time she took that off of you? I bet it’s been so long since you got off.”

“It hasn’t come off since she first put it on,” I confessed. “But…I got off last night.”

I immediately regretted saying that. It felt like too much information to have divulged, and I was only opening myself to more questions.

“Is that so? Did she fuck you in your ass or something?”

“Uh…”

She giggled again.

“You know about that kinda stuff?”

“I have the internet,” she said, shrugging.

“Alright,” I said, starting to slide my cage back into my diaper.

“No, wait,” she said.

“Hm?”

“Can I…touch it?”

My heart beat a little faster, and I felt my palms getting a little clammy. I took a cautious glance towards the bedroom door. I wondered what Mommy would say if she was here now. Who was I kidding, she’d probably love watching Kylie manhandle my cage.

“Y-yeah,” I finally said.

She reached forward and grabbed it, feeling the weight and size of it in her hands. She brought her face closer, doing a more thorough inspection. It was torturous, having a cute woman so close to my cock–grabbing at it with her hands–with no chance of me being able to actually enjoy it.

“Cute,” she offered, shrugging. “They make these plastic ones that are bright pink. You should ask her for one of those.”

“I’m not a girl.”

“What, a boy can’t wear pink? It’s not like you’re winning any ‘man-points’ while wearing a rainbow onesie and a unicorn diaper that you…” She quickly reached beneath me to feel the bottom of my diaper. “...a unicorn diaper that you’ve wet a little.”

“Point taken. But this chastity cage seems more than sufficient.”

“Well, be careful. If you don’t need to take it off to climax, she might as well just chop it off.”

“She’s not going to cut my dick off.”

She laughed, seeming to find her own scenario pretty hilarious.

“Well, what do you think? Ready to shove your face in my diaper?”

“Do you have to…go?”

“Not yet. Do these sorts of things usually take a while?”

I shrugged.

“Well, just put your face into my diaper anyway. I want to see what it feels like.”

I pulled open the front of my diaper and slipped my cage away and obediently crawled over to where she was squatting–her ass jutting out in the air behind her, just waiting for a foolish face to press itself into it. While this may not have been the most humiliating thing I’ve ever had to do, it might have, at least, ranked amongst the strangest. I leaned forward, slowly pressing my face against the bulky plastic padding of her diaper. It was as soft and crinkly as I expected it to be. Not exactly comfortable, though there was a quality to it that at least felt…’nice’ on some level.

And then I felt the diaper growing warm. I thought, perhaps, it was just from the heat of my blushing face pushed against it, but then the texture of the diaper’s padding seemed to change too.

“Are you…”

“Oh wow,” she said, moaning a little. “I had no idea how amazing it felt to wet a diaper. Keep your face there. I want you to feel all of it.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I could feel the diaper continue to get warmer and soggier. My ears were filled with the sound of the diaper’s crinkling and the faint sound of her stream making contact with the padding within.

I certainly hadn’t made note of the bedroom door opening and closing behind me.

“And…what exactly is happening with my babies?” Mommy asked. Her tone was crisp, but humored, cutting through the noise to make itself known.

“Oh, uh…” I eased my face from Kylie’s backside. “We were just…”

“No, no,” Mommy said. “Put your face back where it was. It looked good there.”

I did as she asked, feeling my heart pulse rapidly as I did.

“Kylie? Why is my baby boy planting his face in your bottom?”

“He, uhm, told me about the bottle,” Kylie answered, some of the wind being taken from her sails. I could sense the respect she had for Mommy’s authority. A good spanking will do that to anyone.

“And you somehow convinced him to shove his face into your diaper?”

“Yes…”

“Don’t mind me, then,” Mommy said, taking a seat on the loveseat near where we were stationed. “I have all day, and I don’t mind watching how this plays out either.”

[bigbear95]

I bet mommy is going to enjoy the show very much. She might even need a diaper herself. ??

[kirababy]

LOL  Busted.   It's one thing to do what they are doing in private, but now they have an audience, and a curious one, at that.

[Babypants]

This chapter makes me curious about Ms. Heller's background, and specifically how she started down this path however many years ago it may have been.  To me, she is as fascinatingly complex as Clark is one dimensional.  Did she have a mentor?  Was she once in Kylie's spot?  I hope that you are going to flesh her out before story's end, or perhaps write a prequel a la Star Wars episodes 4-6.  

[6firewall6]

Loving this story hope to get the next part soon.

[quietlyhumiliated]

Somebody...and I don't want to say just who (even if...especially if...it was me) forgot to post a chapter of this story last week. So, good news for you - you're getting two chapters today for the price of none.

And, if you're interested in such things, readers over at my Patreon have just finished Season 2 of this story, a few weeks before you will. Not only that, but they even got the first in a series of short stories taking place in the DB universe today. So if you're interested in any of that, come on down and join us. 

 

Thirty-Seven

“Should it be taking this long?” asked Kylie.

To be fair, I was wondering the same thing, myself. My face had been stationed in the soggy padding of her rear end for close to twenty minutes since Mommy had joined us, with nothing to show for it. At one point, I thought I felt her body tensing up, but it turned out that she just needed to wet a little more.

“What is it that you think was in that bottle?” asked Mommy, her tone suggesting that she was in heaven as she watched this scene unfold before her.

“Laxatives of some sort, I guess,” Kylie said. “Or so Clark says.”

“Well,” Mommy said, “everybody’s body is a little different. These things can just take a while.”

“Okay,” replied a skeptical Kylie.

“You are committed to using the diaper though?” Mommy asked.

“Well…Clark and I had a deal.”

“Did you now? I’m going to assume this is why his nose is stuck in your droopy bottom?”

“That’s right.”

“Doesn’t seem like a terrible deal.”

“That wasn’t the only term of our agreement, though,” Kylie said, some of her signature snark returning to her voice.

Mommy chucked. “I should’ve guessed. And what else was bartered?”

“I showed her my cage,” I said, my voice slightly muffled from my position.

I had feared that this would be an awkward angle to maintain for my head and neck, but the only discomfort I was actually feeling was coming from my cock. What a sinfully exciting place to be–the warmth of her diaper pressed against my face, while every breath through my nose caught a whiff of the pee-soaked padding. Between my legs, I was throbbing.

Behind me, I could hear something mechanical, though I couldn’t place the sound for a moment. Then I realized it was a camera. Not actually a camera of course–just the sound effect of a camera coming from a phone. I assumed they added the sound effect for the generations who grew up with actual cameras and needed to hear that sound to know a photo was taken. I had muted the sound on my phone, but I wondered if it was an audible indicator that Ms. Heller still relied on.

Of course, there remained the possibility that she left the sound on simply so that I would know when she’s taking my picture. As she was now.

“Don’t worry, Kylie, I’m not taking photos of your face. But, I did want to show this to some of my colleagues.”

I wanted to ask who these photos would be going to, but I bit my tongue. They were probably already en route to whoever needed to see them. Ms. Beaufort was somewhere hundreds of miles away right now, having a chuckle to herself about this. And Lyndie–there was no way that Mommy didn’t just send these photos to Lyndie.

“How, uh, are you doing?” I asked Kylie. “Think you might…need to go soon?”

“Getting a sore neck?” Kylie responded.

“It’s probably not his neck that’s getting sore,” Mommy said. “I can only imagine how badly the naughty little boy wants to stroke himself while huffing your pissy pants.”

“Gross,” cackled Kylie. “But…”

“But you kind of like it too, right?” asked Mommy.

“Yeah…”

“Welcome to a disgusting new world.”

“I think I can just…go,” Kylie said.

“Yeah?”

“I mean…I don’t feel all that different? I think I probably had to go to the bathroom anyway, so it’s not like it feels any more urgent than that. But I could probably go now if I wanted to.”

Mommy laughed. “Did you need any further invitation?”

“No…probably not.”

“Then, by all means, show us what little girls do in their diapers.”

I laughed–just a tiny little chuckle under my breath that probably got lost in the crinkles of Kylie’s diaper. Such a silly thing to gatekeep–the ease of using a diaper as an adult. But I could remember my first few times in a diaper and how hard it was to use it like I was supposed to. All those hang-ups about social standards and trying to overwrite my body’s programming. Did she really think that she could just squat down and fill a diaper like it wasn’t a big deal?

Frrrt.

A little gas had escaped her rear–a stinky little cloud that I swore I could feel through the diaper. It was…surprisingly hot. It shouldn’t have been that surprising, really; I had been turned on by far grosser things in the last few weeks. But it had served as a little bit of a wake-up call. For one, she had already shown little hesitation in pissing herself. And now, it seemed that she was ready to dive right into the deep end.

“Okay, well…that wasn’t it,” Kylie muttered. “Sorry about that.”

Mommy was laughing. “Oh, don’t apologize. He probably snorted that right up.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, let me try that again.” Her legs separated a little further and she grunted as she pushed on her bowels again. “Hrrrrgh…”

My face was greeted with a few more tiny toots, heralds for what was coming next. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I thought, maybe, I could hear it coming. Somewhere from within her, the faint sticky-crackling sound of something making its way towards the exit.

“It’s coming,” she said.

My heart raced and I felt myself pushing my face a little deeper into her diaper, as if I just needed to be a little closer to the action.

I didn’t dare pull my face away from Kylie’s behind to look at Mommy’s face, but I also didn’t think I had to. I could just imagine her expression. Wide, eager eyes and an impossibly large grin. She wouldn’t just be eating this up, she’d be letting it dissolve in her mouth completely before swallowing.

“That’s a good girl,” Mommy said in a most-encouraging tone.

Kylie opened her mouth one more time, making a noise that could’ve either been the start of a word, or just a grunt. It seemed unnecessary to tell us again that her mess was coming.

It had arrived. Against a chorus of rippling flatulence and grunts, I felt the back of her diaper slowly expanding into my face. It was as if there was a small hand on the other side of it, pushing the padding against my skin. But it was no hand, and the reality of what it actually was filled me with simultaneous shame and delight.

By this point in my career as a professional baby, I was no stranger to filling my own diapers. And while it seemed like a silly thing to boast about, in the back of mind I had begun to consider myself a wee bit of an expert on the topic of pooping one’s pants. Yet, there I was, my face being smothered by a growing bulge, and I couldn’t get over just how surreal and different this was.

I knew nothing. Under Mommy’s supervision, I’d only continue to see things I had never even dreamed of.

It was a sizable and firm load, and its weight almost immediately began to pull at her diaper. The soggy padding slid, ever so slightly, down my face like a plastic glacier. And the smell… I knew the smell of my own messes, and I suppose I had thought that if you smelled one stinky diaper, you had smelled them all. I was wrong. I wouldn’t say it was worse. Just different. Terrible, but in new ways. Terrible, but in the best ways.

My face was so close to the mess in her diaper. Less than an inch away, with just a few layers of plastic and saturated synthetic fabrics between me and it. As surreal as it was hot.

“I…I think I got it all out,” Kylie finally said. Her tone had changed. She didn’t sound ashamed. She sounded…small, maybe? Very small.

“Are you sure?” Mommy asked.

“Uh…”

I felt her squat a little more again, her bottom pressing against my face as she grunted loudly one more time. I could feel one last little ploop from the other side of the diaper.

“There. I…think that’s it.”

“How much longer do you think we should leave Clark parked at your rear end?”

“Oh,” Kylie said, as if having forgotten that I was still there at all. “Poor baby…it probably doesn’t smell very good back there.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Mommy said. “He’s having the time of his life. Right, Clarky?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Tell Kylie how much you like having your face pressed into her dirty diaper.”

“Well, uhm…” My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I wasn’t even sure how to put that into words, even if it would’ve been an accurate statement.

“Go on,” Mommy said. “Don’t be rude.”

“I really like, uh, having your messy diaper pressed against my face, Kylie.”

“I know,” she giggled. There was still a hint of shame in her voice, but some of that classic Kylie color was returning.

“Now,” Mommy said. “Thank her for letting you put your nose in her behind.”

I sighed as I heard Kylie giggle again. “Uhm…thank you, Kylie, for letting me put my face in your diaper as you pooped.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Clark, you can remove your face from the young woman’s posterior. Kylie, I do believe you’re in need of a diaper change.”

I did as she asked, finding that there was a vaguely face-shaped indent in the back of her drooping and stained diaper.

“Does Clark have to watch you change my diaper?” Kylie asked.

I, too, was curious to see what the answer to this question would be. Kylie hadn’t been invited when Mommy changed my own filthy diaper a little bit ago, but a lot had happened since then. And Mommy was certainly no stranger to inviting guests to watch her change my own diapers. I still often found myself thinking about the time I laid atop the Closet’s table while Mommy changed me with Lyndie hovering in the background.

I miss those days…

“No,” Mommy said. “He’ll have to stay out here. It’d be impolite to have him gawking at a little girl getting her bottom wiped clean.”

I didn’t entirely believe she meant that, but I could accept that she’d be saying this for Kylie’s benefit. Not to mention that the mention of ‘wiping clean’ Kylie’s bottom had caused her cheeks to turn an aesthetically pleasing deep pink.

“Off we go, then,” Mommy continued. “Behave yourself out here, Baby,” she said to me.

My cage all but ensured I would. “Yes, Mommy.”

Mommy escorted Kylie to the makeshift nursery, closing the door behind them.

Great. Left alone with my thoughts again.

Actually, no, I wasn’t all that interested in talking to myself. There’d be plenty of time for that later. I decided to get my phone and check in with Lyndie. Of course, it wasn’t until I had crawled across the entire room to where my phone was that I realized that I had, in fact, crawled.

Things like this had been happening more often, I found–these slips into more infantile behavior while nobody else was around. It was one thing to crawl around or suck my thumb when Mommy was present. But to do it when she wasn’t? I wasn’t sure if it was just habit, or if it was slowly becoming an unconscious desire. It didn’t alarm me–but sometimes these things snuck up on me, leaving me startled. Who was I becoming?

I found that I had a text waiting from Lyndie:

Lyndie: Looking good, Clark. I knew your ass looked good in a diaper, but I never knew how good your face looked in one too.

Oh right. I had already forgotten that Mommy had snapped the photos of my face lodged in Kylie’s bottom. I had no idea how to explain Kylie to her. Perhaps I didn’t have to–maybe Mommy had already filled her in on all the sordid details of the rise and fall of Kylie.

Me: Thanks, I guess.

Lyndie: Gonna make that a habit? Sticking your nose in the back of girls’ diapers? Should I tell Ava to prepare herself?

I found myself thinking about Ava’s diaper, slowly backing against my face so that I could smell its contents. I had been warned, once, that Ava was capable of making surprisingly toxic diapers. Was it bad that I wanted to experience that? Just once? My caged cock throbbed, as it did almost constantly these days.

Me: Have you talked to Ava today? How is she?

Lyndie: You could talk to her yourself, you know?

Me: You and her went out to get some drinks last night, right?

Lyndie: That’s true. Are you hoping I dish on anything she might have said about you?

Me: Is that asking for too much?

Lyndie: I’d be a terrible friend to both of you if I was just a middlewoman for gossip.

Me: Fair.

Lyndie: Everything’s fine. She likes you. She wants to be your friend. You want to be hers. Just don’t overthink it or be awkward.

That seemed like an easy-enough concept. But there was the embarrassing incident of our almost-kiss to consider. You’re overthinking it already.

Me: Yeah, you’re right.

Lyndie: So what’s happening in Seattle right now?

I looked over to the closed door that separated me from Mommy and Kylie. I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening behind that door. Sure, Mommy might have been changing a diaper. But I could also imagine Mommy laying on her back with her legs spread wide with Kylie’s face between them.

Me: For once, someone else is getting their dirty diaper changed.

Lyndie: Jealous?

Me: Well…it wasn’t that long ago that I had a dirty diaper of my own changed.

Lyndie: Of course.

Lyndie: When you come back, I’m going to want to hear everything.

Me: Mommy hasn’t already told you everything there is to know?

Lyndie: I know some things. But I’d really like to hear it from you.

My cheeks were getting warm again.

Me: I bet you would.

Me: But I will. Promise. When I get back, I’ll tell you everything. And considering that there’s already a lot to tell you about, I can’t imagine how much there’ll be by the time I’m home.

Lyndie: You’re going to love every second of it.

Me: I know.

I set my phone down and fell back onto my ass, choosing to spend the rest of my wait sitting in the comfort of my diaper. From behind the door, I could hear small noises. A laugh, the muffled sound of someone talking, the sound of a diaper’s tape being torn up from the plastic it was affixed to. I wasn’t used to hearing these sounds without me being at the center.

It wasn’t much later that the door opened again, with both women returning to the living room. If I didn’t have such intimate knowledge of what had happened to Kylie’s diaper earlier, I might have assumed that nothing actually happened. She looked…normal–the same as she had when she first showed up this morning. I wondered what was under her black skirt now. Another diaper?

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Kylie is heading out,” Mommy said.

Sarcasm, I hoped. I might have been suffering from a bit of Kylie-fatigue. I needed a break from her. I needed some quality time with Mommy.

“I know today was kind of wild,” Kylie said. “But, in the end, I think I had a good time with you.”

“Likewise,” I said. I wasn’t sure I believed that just yet. But I suspected my memories of today would age pretty well.

“You’ll have to come out and see us sometime,” Mommy said to Kylie. “It’d be nice if we could set up a little playdate again.”

Kylie blushed a little. “My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I was taking a trip to see you. So…it’s probably a good idea that I do.”

Goodbyes and hugs were exchanged. A final swat from Mommy on Kylie’s bottom answered the question about whether or not she was being released back into the world in a diaper. She was. I’d have liked to have been a fly on the wall when Kylie was in the same room as her mother again, squirming under the pressure of not exposing herself as a baby.

“Quite a day,” I said when it was, finally, just her and I again.

“Seems like it. I think we created a new baby today, you and I.”

“You didn’t really give her a chance,” I said. “Between the spanking and the bottle. Not that I minded.”

“Ah, right, the bottle,” Mommy repeated, chuckling to herself. I recognized that specific smile–the look of someone who knew something I didn’t. I’d seen it enough to know it.

“Hm?”

“You grabbed the first bottle you saw when you opened the fridge, yes?”

“Y-yeah,” I said, thinking back to my trip to the fridge. “It was the only one in there.”

She shook her head. “Not true. I had two bottles in the fridge. One for a good boy, and one for a bad boy who’d need an especially dirty diaper.”

“O-oh. And the one that Kylie drank…?”

“It had a red cap,” she said. “That was not the ‘special’ bottle.”

I wasn’t sure which was more shocking to me–that Kylie had willingly pooped in her diaper while pressed against my face, or that there was still a laxative-laced bottle in the suite.

“Oh.”

“You really thought that you had given Kylie the other bottle? You thought that was what I wanted you to do, and went along with it?”

“I…guess.”

“That’s very naughty of you,” she said, laughing. “I’d say that makes you a bad boy, wouldn’t you?”

I sighed, nodding silently.

“We have just the bottle for bad boys, don’t we? I’ll save that for later. It’ll be fun."

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Fun.”

 

 

Thirty-Eight

“Come here, Baby,” she said. “Come to Mommy.”

I had been developing something of a ‘little space’ over the last few weeks; an infantile headspace that Mommy could summon forth on a whim. It wasn’t an omnipresent head-space, nor one that I could seem to reach by myself all that easily. Often, when I’d think about the idea of ‘little space,’ I found it to be silly–I couldn’t possibly believe that there was just a switch that could instantly turn me into a drooling, pants-wetting, infant.

But then, with such little effort, she’d prove me wrong.

She sat on the sofa at the other side of the room, her legs crossed and her lips curled into an inviting grin. I felt powerless as I dropped to my hands and knees.

Mommy had made us reservations at a place downtown for brunch, and I was wearing, mostly, adult clothing–save for not one, but two thick diapers concealed within my pants. They had caused my thighs to separate enough that I could barely walk without waddling. Now, my thickly padded behind was jutting out behind me as I awaited her next command.

As if she had a remote control to operate my body for me, she beckoned me forward with a single finger, and I found myself crawling towards her–already starving for whatever attention she’d spare.

“That’s a good baby,” she cooed. “Are you Mommy’s good baby boy?”

“Yes, Mommy,” I said.

There was a time, not that long ago, when I’d have stumbled over just those words. But part of this newfound little space was a feeling of confidence about who I was and what I’d be willing to do for her.

“Are you thankful for me, Baby?”

“Yes, Mommy. So thankful. I…I think you might be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Is that right? I think it might be right, but I had put so little thought into that statement that I can’t help but wonder if I’m talking out my own diapered ass. It feels right at this moment, and that’s all that seems to matter.

“I hope you mean that,” she said.

“I do. Mommy, I love you.”

“Mm,” she moans, quite satisfied with my words. “I love you too.”

I wonder, sometimes, if she means the same thing that I do when we say that we love each other. I take her at her word, though in the back of mind, there’s always this lingering thought that I wasn’t the first baby in her life. And, if I wasn’t around tomorrow, there might be another after me too.

“It’s been quite the trip so far,” she said. An incredible understatement.

“Mmhmm.”

“But are you having fun?”

The last day and a half feel like a blur to me. Our adventures in the airport and in the ride to the hotel. Dinner with Kylie and her mother. Mommy’s use of toys to get me off, despite being caged. My day with Kylie, and her subsequent rebirth as a baby herself. And then there was last night–another evening of caged pleasures. She had turned me into a puddle of goo by the end of the night, once again pleasuring me with her toys. But unlike the night before, she didn’t let me finish. I felt like I was still reeling from that unfinished teasing–a desperate need to climax was still simmering within me.

“I am,” I said, laughing to myself. Goddamn, I had become such a little slut for humiliation.

She raised her right foot into the air, until it was parallel with the floor. “Do you appreciate what Mommy does for you, little boy?”

“Y-yes, of course I do, Mommy.”

Her extended foot rotated slowly, a hypnotizing circle only inches from my face. Her Italian leather boot gleamed in the sunlight coming through the suite’s window. I had never really thought of myself as a ‘foot man,’ yet there was something about watching her slender foot and ankle move in this moment that I found to be strangely erotic.

She looked amazing. She always did, of course, but every once in a while I’d have to stop and take all of her in again. Her thin black pants that seemed to be molded to her slender legs. Her white top–a tank top of some sort with big loose straps–seemed to cling to her shoulders for dear life. The slightest movement, and I wondered if it’d slide down her body to expose the black bra I could see hiding beneath.

“Do you feel a little overdressed?” she cooed to me.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Would you rather go to lunch in your little onesie? A bib hanging around your neck? I might have even packed a bonnet for you, if you’d like.”

I blushed. I tried to imagine, just for a moment, sitting in the middle of a crowded restaurant in my onesie, bonnet and thickly diapered bottom while everyone else stared at me. It felt entirely unethical…but in the most delicious way.

Was it bad that I could actually see myself agreeing to that if she really wanted?

“Do you…want me to dress like that?” I asked.

“Oh, please do be careful, Baby. Because when you ask questions like that, I start to think that maybe I should keep you dressed like a big toddler when we go out in public.”

“We don’t know anyone in Seattle,” I said.

She laughed. “Are you trying to convince me to strip off your big-boy clothes?”

I actually wasn’t sure what point I was trying to make. All I knew was that I was playing with fire. And when Mommy was involved, getting burned was inevitable.

“N-no,” I said. “Maybe not.”

“But it's an exciting idea, yes?”

I nodded. “Yes, Mommy. Very.”

Her foot continued to rotate near my head. I turned a little to stare at it again, transfixed by the smooth motions of her ankle.

“Do you like Mommy’s feet, baby?”

“Y-yes.”

“Kiss it.”

There was no hesitation on my part. I leaned forward, planting a wet kiss on the buttery-soft leather of her boot.

“Oh, but be careful, Baby. A little boy like you is much too slobbery for boots like this. I couldn’t have you getting them too wet.”

She was so good at effortlessly winding me around her finger. I didn’t think my kiss had been excessively ‘slobbery’ in any way, but I believed it, just because she said so.

“I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“Don’t be. Babies can’t help themselves, can they?”

I shook my head.

“Instead, maybe you should kiss something that could stand to get a little wet. Tell me, Baby–if you could kiss any spot on Mommy right now, what do you think you’d choose?”

A list immediately formed in my mind. Her lips. Her ass. Her breasts. Her pussy. Her stomach. Her neck. Her ears. Her…

It was safe to say that there probably wasn’t a place on her body that I didn’t want to kiss.

She was still patiently waiting for an answer, and so I had to pick something. I felt I needed to be a little strategic here, as if I got too greedy and said something that would require her to peel her tight pants off, it wasn’t as likely to fly. But I glanced up at her shoulder straps again, barely clinging to her body, and my mouth began to salivate at the idea of kissing one of her nipples.

“M-maybe I’d want to kiss your…chest?” Chest was probably the least sexy word I could’ve used, but no other word felt right to me.

“My chest?” she asked, giggling. “Do you wish Mommy had some milk to feed you?”

“N-no, not necessarily. I just…wanted to kiss you there.”

“Milk would be nice,” she mused aloud. “And just think–I’d only have to order food for myself at brunch. I could let you feed from my breast right there at the table.”

My face felt incredibly warm again. That sounded amazing.

“Come here,” she said. “Do you want to kiss Mommy’s titty?”

“Y-yes, Mommy. Please?” The top half of my body rose, so I was just kneeling before her now.

She let the shoulder strap fall from her left shoulder and I watched as she carefully reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. It slid down her chest, leaving her perfect tits exposed. I stared at them, finding myself overcome with gratefulness at having these lovely things in my life. I crawled onto the couch with her, kneeling on the cushions at her side like a happy puppy.

“Well?” she asked. “How much longer do you need to stare at your meal before you eat it?”

My brain shut off as my face bobbed forward and into her bosom. My lips quickly found her nipple–as if there was a magnetic attraction between us to ensure that the two locked on with ease. But the thought of just kissing her was long gone, and all my baby-brain could think to do was wrap my lips around her nipple and suckle. She made no effort to stop me. Were I to  guess, she already saw this coming. She simply moaned and supported my head, holding me gently in place so that I could nibble at her.

“Is that what you wanted, Baby?”

“Mmhmm,” I responded, my voice muffled by the soft skin of her breast.

“Don’t forget to leave some room for brunch, silly.”

The longer I remained stationed at her nipple, the more I could feel my ‘little space’ taking over. I was getting sloppy and reckless, drool and saliva freely flowing out from the corners of my mouth helped form a slick layer between her skin and mine. I could barely think–but I also didn’t need to think.

Is my diaper wet? Oh…am I... My bladder had simply taken it upon itself to empty into my diaper without being told to. It was sensory overload on both ends now, as my mouth continued to lick and slurp at her breast, while the diaper grew warmer and heavier in my pants.

“I know those moans,” Mommy said. “Are you making a tinkle in your diaper?”

I didn’t answer. I wished that I could, but I couldn’t think of what words I’d use to confirm her suspicions.

She figured it out for herself though, reaching down my back and grasping my bottom. “Feels soggy and warm.”

“Unh,” I muttered, a new wave of pleasure rolled through my body, originating from where she squeezed my diaper.

“I absolutely adore when you’re like this,” she said. “Locked up, soggy, and having forgotten how old you really are. A perfect little baby.”

I offered an enthusiastic “Mmf,” though it wasn’t even clear to myself if it was a response to her statement, or just something I needed to express regardless.

“I could do just about anything with you right now.”

“Mm.”

“It’d be a shame to let all of this infantile energy go to waste.”

“Oomm…” Not really a word, just a noise.

I felt her hand caressing my bottom again, squishing my diaper through my pants. Soon, her fingers were at the waistband, pulling open the pack of my pants. I didn’t think much about what she was doing–she had free reign over me. I simply tried to stay cognizant of what was happening down there while I continued to make a mess of her chest.

Her hand was in my diaper. I felt it between the wet padding and my damp skin. She slid her fingers deeper into the padding until I felt her tips lightly teasing my back door again.

I whimpered–an absolutely pathetic sound that signaled that whatever it was she was going to do, I wanted it.

“Oh you’d like that, would you? For Mommy to play with your little hole again?”

“Mmm,” I whined.

Her fingers wriggled against my bottom. It felt like she could slip one of them into me at any given moment. I could barely stand the waiting. Give it to me. Give it to me. Give it to me.

“I would like to,” she said. “And if I did that, I might as well get you to shoot your dirty little load into your diaper too.”

“Mmm.” Give it to me. Give it to me. Give it to me.

“But…”

“Mm?”

“We do have reservations for brunch. And I’d need a little more time...”

I pulled my mouth away from her tit, my face soaking wet. I wanted to protest–or at least, to ask if we could cancel brunch–but I had no ability to speak. I offered all that I could instead: “Aww…”

“I have an idea, of course.”

“A-anything,” I said, looking up into her gorgeous eyes as I found the one word I wanted to say.

“I have a few toys I haven’t shown you yet. One of them might just allow for us to keep our reservation while letting you earn yourself a sticky diaper.”

I nodded frantically. Yes. Please, oh please. Anything.

“You’ll have to be a good boy and wait here for just a moment while I fetch it. You can do that, yes?”

I nodded, slowly backing away from her.

“Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

Everything changes the second she slides off the couch and marches to the bedroom. Given just a second to recap the last few moments, my infantile headspace begins to fade enough that I can start thinking a little more clearly. It feels like waking up from a dream. Where am I? How did I get here? How long was I out? Did I make a complete ass of myself?

Mommy isn’t gone too long–just long enough that some of my senses return. I see it as a good thing–being stuck in a more babyish place indefinitely would give me little need of humility.

“I’m ba-aack,” she sang, reappearing with some objects clutched tightly against her chest. “Can you guess what Mommy has for you?”

I hadn’t given it much thought, and so I just shrugged. Maybe all the clues were there, but I lacked the capacity to connect them at that moment.

“What if I showed you this?” she asked, extending an arm towards me.

In her hand was her phone. For a moment, I didn’t understand what she was showing me. Was it the phone itself? Or something on it? I took a closer look at the screen. It looked like… Well, I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening on the screen. It looked like settings for an app of some sort. There were a series of toggle-switches and buttons associated to vague descriptors like ‘speed’ and ‘intensity.’

“I…I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head.

“Ah, well then maybe you need to see the other component.”

Her other arm extended out towards me, and in this hand was a small phallus-shaped object, not unlike some of the toys she had implemented our playtime over the last two nights. But this one, with its more tapered tip and wide base, seemed especially…butt-friendly.

Still, I wasn’t putting the bigger picture together yet. Blame my density on my recovery from being in my baby-zone moments earlier. I looked at her again, sure that my confusion was written across my face in bold letters.

“Poor baby,” she said. “Do you not see what I’m proposing here?”

I shook my head. “Tell me, Mommy.”

“It’s rather simple. First, I lube up this little fellow here, right? And then I slide it into your hungry bottom. I trust that it’ll stay in place on its own–though you have two diapers to help with that. And then we go to brunch. And while we’re dining, I’ll just be playing on my phone a little…”

She demonstrated, pressing a few buttons on the screen to her phone, which in turn, caused the stubby toy in her other hand to begin vibrating.

It was all clicking for me now. And I, once more, felt a shameful warmth spread through my cheeks.

“Y-you’re going to leave that in me? At…brunch? In my diaper?”

“That’s right,” she said. “What do you think?”

I was pretty sure I was salivating. “I…I like it.”

“I thought you would. Care to make it interesting?”

“Interesting?” I laughed. “More interesting than having a remote control plug up my rear in public?”

“Don’t pretend you’re not interested in what I’m proposing.”

Obviously, she was right. “Wh-what did you have in mind?”

“A little game, betting on whether or not you can reach climax during brunch. I think we can do it.”

“I…I don’t know if I could,” I said. “I want to. But I’ve never…”

“That’s why it’s a game, silly. Are you fairly certain you won’t be able to cum in your diapers at the restaurant?”

“Well…it doesn’t seem all that likely to me.”

“Very well,” she said. “If you’re right, and you don’t squirt into your diaper, then I’d say you’ve won. I’ll spare you any further public humiliation.”

My heart beat a little faster. “But…if I did actually manage to, uhm…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word and I quickly moved on. “What then?”

Her diabolic smile widened. “Well, I’d be so proud of my handiwork that I’d just have to show it off to everyone else.”

[D503]

?

It's wonderful to see Kylie act smol and "agree" to another nappy. Hopefully it helps her heal. The now Mommy, Lyndie, Ava and Kylie pentagon is very interesting and it makes me wonder how Clarky will handle interactions with big men and little boys.

[kirababy]

Wow, she really is upping the ante now.

[Babypants]

These chapters have great pacing, and the cliffhangers are working really well.  Lots of dynamic tension at work in these relationships.  D503's above comment about a pentagon is intriguing.  Isn't there another male admin asst. starting the diapering routine back at the office while Clark is in Seattle?  Will he welcome said asst. as a playmate, or see him as competition?  And how will Ava react to having a second male in this little group?  Will she use him to make Clark jealous?

Lots and lots of ways for this story to develop.  We are all looking forward to more, more, more ...

[babyheadspace]

Really. Love this chapter and it's a great story. I'll continue to look forward to every week. Thank you so much

[quietlyhumiliated]

 

Thirty-Nine

I can tell that it’s a fancy restaurant, because I have no idea what most of the dishes are. Even in the items’ descriptions in the menu, there are words that mean next to nothing to me.

“What is Maldon salt?” I quietly asked Mommy.

She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s just sea salt.”

“What makes it…Maldon?”

“The shape.”

“That matters?”

“To the chef, perhaps.”

I sigh, worrying that when it comes time to order, I’m just going to have to randomly pick something off the menu and pray that I like it.

“You’re overthinking this,” she said, picking up on my anxiety. “It’s just brunch.”

“Maybe my palate just isn’t as sophisticated.”

“Believe me,” she said. “If they served jars of baby food and warm bottles of milk, I’d have already ordered.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m just not as…sophisticated.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Baby,” she said, smirking. “Why don’t I order for you?”

I blushed at the thought of needing her to order for me like I was a child. Though it made sense–I was the one wearing a diaper.

“Okay,” I said.

“I suppose I should make sure that you don’t have any allergies that I don’t know about?”

“Not that I know of,” I said, scanning the menu again. “I don’t think I’m allergic to…watercress.”

“Good,” she said. “Because it’s delicious.”

She had ordered herself a glass of mimosa and a cup of coffee. I had almost ordered the same, except she had cut me off and insisted on the waitress just bringing me a cup of juice instead.

“A pity they don’t have cups with lids on them here,” Mommy said, watching me take a sip from my glass of orange juice. “Though, I guess I could start carrying one in the diaper bag.”

Hearing her say the d-word in public still riled my senses. I took a paranoid glance around us to make sure that nobody had heard her. As best as I could tell, nobody seemed to care.

“You crack me up,” she said. “Still worrying about what other people think about you?”

“Shouldn’t I?” I asked. “I like, you know, what we’re doing here. But people still frown upon this sort of thing.”

She laughed, leaning forward on the table and resting her chin on the back of her hand, supported by her elbow on the table. “And how would you describe ‘this sort of thing?’”

“My older boss…keeping me in diapers?”

“And chastity, don’t forget,” she added.

“Of course.”

“And the plug.”

I drew in a nervous breath as I nodded. I hadn’t forgotten that either.

The diaper and the chastity cage were constant presences in my life, but ones I had adapted to. I could even go a few hours without thinking about the fact that I was wearing one or the other. I’d be reminded, of course. It didn’t take much to be reminded–the crinkle of the diaper as I moved, or a little trickle of pee bubbling out of the tip of my locked manhood.

But this plug.

I wasn’t sure how I could ever adapt to such a thing. Such was the point, I imagined–it wasn’t intended for long term use. And so its presence was always felt. Every single movement seemed to cause it to shift ever so slightly, though it was hard to describe the resulting sensation. It wasn’t pain or discomfort. Sometimes it was pleasure, but not always. It was just there. A presence in my ass. In my diaper. In my pants. As I sat in this restaurant with Mommy.

I nodded. “Y-yeah. The plug.”

“You don’t think that’d go over all that well with the masses?” she asked, coy smile on her face.

“I doubt it.”

“I could ask.”

My heart started beating a little faster. “Ask who?”

Our waitress returned to the table at that exact moment. Perfect timing, some might argue. I watched Mommy smile as she opened her mouth. I bit my bottom lip, terrified that she was going to ask something incredibly humiliating.

“We’re ready to order, I believe,” she actually said.

“Very good,” our waitress said. “And what could I get for you two today?”

“I’d like the lamb boxty,” Mommy said. “And the little one will have the quiche of the day, please.”

Little one. My cheeks were reddening before the words even fully registered with me.

“Perfect choices,” our server said. She was sure to smile at each of us–but the line between it being just a friendly smile and a smug ‘I heard and acknowledge what that woman just called you’ smile was far too thin for me to decipher properly.

And she was off to bring our order to the kitchen.

“I bet you enjoyed that,” I said.

“Not as much as I’m about to enjoy…this.”

She had been holding onto her phone for the last minute, but I hadn’t thought of it much until I watched her sliding her finger across the screen at the same moment I felt a slow throbbing pulse emanating from deep within my diaper.

“Uh…unnnh…”

“Oops.”

“M-mommy…”

“Yes?

“I’m…I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I managed to spit out.

She just laughed. “And why not? Did it hurt?”

“N-no…”

“So it felt good?”

I nodded.

“Too good?”

I nodded again.

“Hm. Let’s try it again.”

“No, wait, I–”

But, again, I felt that rhythmic pulsing from inside my ass. It short circuited me–shut my whole system down. I couldn’t talk and I could barely move. It was just another low, dull, moan coming from my lips: “Mmmhhhhh..”

“I have to say, this seems to work exceptionally well. Do you like it?”

“I…uhm…”

She laughed, shaking her head in amusement as she watched me flounder over my words.

“I think I like I it,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “The only problem is that I might…uh…”

“Like it too much?”

I nodded. “Maybe… What if we just…did it later? Somewhere else? Anywhere else?”

She laughed again. “Why, Clarky? Are you nervous that you like it so much that you might just blow your load in your pampers? Here, at brunch?”

“Well…uhm…”

“I’ll take that as a yes. If I’ve learned anything about you, it's that you’re a little butt-slut. You just can’t get enough, can you?”

“I do like it,” I said. “So maybe we can agree that you’ve proven your point and we can just save this for a little later?”

“My point,” she was quick to retort, “was that I could make you climax in your diaper during brunch without you touching yourself. We haven’t accomplished that just yet.”

“But do we have to? I mean…nnnhhghhh….”

She had turned the dial up again, sending waves of sinful pleasure through my ass and triggering every nerve between my bottom and my brain.

The worst part was that everytime I felt it, I wanted more. Everytime I felt the plug shaking and pulsing inside of me, a little part of me hoped she’d just leave it like that until my entire body melted into a puddle of goo on the seat. Much like the goo, I imagined, I’d probably be depositing into my diaper if she kept this up.

“You’ve never changed my mind before,” she said. “And so I doubt you will now.”

I nodded as I felt my body trembling from the pleasure I had just experienced. Of course she was going to have her way with me.

“I have to stretch it out a little,” she said. “I don’t want you to blow your top so soon.”

“I…just…uh…”

“Stupified?” she asked. “I must say, I’m really enjoying the effect this little toy has on you. If it wasn’t for the fact that I needed you to make your dirty messes in your diaper, I’d say we should just leave it in all the time.”

“I don’t know if, uhm, that’s a…uh…” Words were hard. I knew the jist of what I wanted to say, but I just couldn’t form the words to say it.

“Now, now, don’t hurt yourself trying to think of big boy words.”

I was on edge, constantly bracing myself for the next burst of pulses. As I recovered from my last temporary daze, I remembered where I was. Around us was a chorus of forks clattering on plates and people talking. It simply seemed unreal that I was experiencing these sorts of pleasures in a place like this, and nobody knew it.

“I think I was wrong,” I said.

She laughed, taking a long and slow sip of her mimosa. “About what, dear?”

I took a deep breath and wiped a little sweat from my brow. “You…could, uhm, make me climax in my diaper right here, right now, if you wanted to. Pretty easily.”

“I already knew that.”

“W-were you serious? About the whole…public humiliation thing?”

“Have I ever lied before?”

“No, Mommy.”

“Does the idea of me humiliating you here in public frighten you?”

“Yes.”

“But does it excite you?”

“...yes.”

“I thought so.”

Maybe it was the intense pleasure from the plug that had jostled my brain, but I’m suddenly on board with whatever she wants to do. With a sigh and tiny nod, I once again cede my agency to her. I’m all hers, to do with as she will.

“We should eat first,” she said. “I’d hate for us to get so caught up in naughty business that we forget to eat brunch.”

As if having used Mommy-magic to summon brunch into existence, our server reappeared, carefully placing our plates down in front of us.

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?” our server asked.

With a rye smile, Mommy asked: “I don’t suppose you have a bib, do you?”

The young woman laughed in that ‘Oh, you silly goose,’ sort of way. “I doubt it.”

“It’s alright,” Mommy replied. “I might have one in my purse.”

The server laughed it off before trotting off to our next table, likely thinking nothing of the playful interaction. Were I to guess, this was a common enough self-deprecating joke for adults to make at a restaurant that it barely meant anything to the server. Meanwhile, I was nervous that Mommy actually did have a bib in her purse, and that she was a moment away from taking it out and putting it on me.

“I’m just teasing,” she said, much to my relief. “Having a little fun, you know?”

“Mmhmm,” I said, taking a bite of the quiche. I’ve had quiches before, so I wasn’t a stranger to the concept. But I didn’t remember seeing this on the menu, and I had no clue what was in it. It tasted good, I thought, but the mystery of what it was made it hard for me to fully enjoy.

I had just parked a forkful of eggy goodness in my mouth when I saw her fingers tap on her phone’s screen. I knew what was coming, but my body had no time to prepare for it. I felt the plug pulsing in my diaper again.

“Guhhhh…” My mouth exploded open, sending fragments of partially-chewed food across the table as I groaned.

Mommy didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, she thought the scene was rather humorous. I watched her tap the screen again, and I foolishly assumed that she was turning the plug off. No–she was increasing the intensity.

“N-nuuuhhhghhh…” I helplessly muttered as I felt myself quivering in my chair.

It felt good. Like, way too good.

The pulsing stopped and the first breath I took after felt like the first breath I had taken in two hours. The fresh air filled my lungs as I panted and gripped the edge of the table.

“How’s everything going over here?” asked the server, reappearing at our table. Always at just the right moment, it seemed.

“Quite well,” Mommy said. “Isn’t that right, Baby?”

I was so dazed that I hardly took note of the fact that she had called me ‘baby’ in front of our server. “Y-yes. Very good. Thank you.”

“Bra-vo,” Mommy said, laughing as the server walked away from us again. “A stunning performance.”

“I, uhm, don’t know if I can take much more.”

“Oh? What do you think would happen if you had to?”

“I…uh… I think that I’d probably…”

“Cream your diapers?” she asked, chucking.

“Uhm. Probably.”

I was too nervous to pick up a fork again. There was no doubt in my mind that the second I tried to eat again, she’d turn up the intensity on the plug and send my food flying across the restaurant again. Worse, with a fork in my hand, I was liable to accidentally impale myself.

“You can eat,” she said.

“But…”

“Go ahead. Eat.”

I take a deep breath and give a little nod, hesitantly bringing a new forkful of food to my mouth. I’m gripped with paranoia as I cautiously chew every bite–just waiting for the moment when she touches her phone again.

To her credit, she pushes the phone away from her on the table. A peace offering–for now. I slowly lower my guard until I’ve finished my entire plate of food.

“That’s a good boy,” she says. “Was it good?”

I nodded. “Th-thank you, Mommy.”

“Now then. Where did we leave off?”

She pulls the phone towards her again, unlocking the screen. I open my mouth to protest, but the words seem stuck in my throat.

Fuck. I can guess what the problem is. I can feel the toy’s presence in my ass as I shift in my seat, and it just keeps rubbing against the right nerves. I want–need–more.

I didn’t see this coming, and I certainly didn’t think that I’d be hearing myself say this to her: “Mommy…p-please. Make me…c*m?”

That wide, devilish, smile crept across her face. “Right here? RIght now?”

I nodded.

“Very well. If that’s what you want.”

She starts slow, leaving the intensity of the plug’s vibrations on a lower setting for a few moments. The throbbing slowly overtakes my body again, shutting down my ability to move or speak. Then–just as I begin to acclimate–she increases the intensity. She does this over and over again, never giving me a chance to adapt before hitting me with faster vibrations. With each new stage, I find it harder and harder to function. It’s getting harder to even think. The rest of the world is fading out of existence.

“Uh. Ugh. Ughhhhhhhh.” My moaning gets deeper, more guttural. Primal. I think–though I’m not entirely positive–that I’m also getting louder. “Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

Somewhere in the ether that surrounds me, I can hear Mommy’s voice: “So close, baby boy.”

“Mommmmmmy, I’m going to…”

I didn’t get to finish that thought–not that I had to. With my hands flat on the top of the table, and my ass slightly elevated from the chair, I released one final, epic, groan as I felt myself spurting through my cage and into my diaper.

“I think we’re done here,” Mommy said, slowly shutting down the plug.

The ringing in my ears faded, and I found that I couldn’t hear a thing. Had I climaxed so hard that I temporarily lost my sense of hearing?

No. It was the restaurant that was silent. And as my vision was restored, I looked around to see that the entire establishment had stopped what they were doing and were staring at me. Every patron. Every server. Every bus-person. Their eyes were fixed on me–the horny fool who just had an orgasm at the table.

“I think that satisfies my desire to publicly humiliate the baby who made stickies in his diaper,” Mommy said smugly.

People began going back to their own business again. There was chattering and conversing–and I could guess what they were talking about now.

“Uhm, hi,” our server said, standing at the edge of our table with a worried look on her face. “I’m so sorry,  but my manager has asked if you two wouldn’t mind…uhm…leaving?”

“We were on our way out anyway,” Mommy replied, seemingly unflustered. “Just allow us to settle the bill.”

“N-no need,” she said. “My manager will handle the bill. We just think it’d be best if the two of you left now.”

I was more than ready to go, and Mommy seemed fine with this idea as well. Now, there was one final step left in my humiliating morning–the long shameful look out of the restaurant.

I tried not to look anyone in the eyes as we walked past them. My face was still bright red, and my ass still crinkled behind me–feeling swollen and numb from the plug’s intense vibrations. Not only that, but it hadn’t occurred to me until we were walking that I had completely soaked my diaper. Apparently, her toy had shaken the piss right out of me. I wondered when that had occurred.

Meanwhile, Mommy seemed nonplussed about it all. Confident, even.

“Well,” she said to me when we were outside again. “That went well.”

“Well? Y-you think that went well?”

“It was a free meal, right?” she shrugged. “Besides, have you ever c*m so hard before that you got kicked out of a restaurant?”

“...no.”

“Quite the accomplishment, really. Just wait until we tell everyone back home.”