Because You Asked for It - Chapter 17 (Patreon)

Chapter 17. Jordan

“O, Jordy,” I heard Angie sing as she came up the stairs. “Where’s Jordy?”

“I’m in here,” I said back. I had just emptied a bag of diapers into the dresser in the guest room. I liked the way they looked, stacked in uniform stacks of three rising to the top of the shallow underwear drawer, three columns across and two rows deep, 18 diapers in all. I put a box of wipes on the top along with my other changing supplies.

“There he is! There’s Jordy,” Angie squeaked as she came in the room. She was making me feel self-conscious, as if I wasn’t already, and her playful tone was making me feel childish, which of course she was doing on purpose. Telling her I wasn’t an ageplayer didn’t seem to phase her. “Is you ready for your diapee change? Is you? Hmm? Is you-you?” She bent at the waist and put her hands on her knees as she said it, reminding me of the body language that gets a dog already excited to play even more wound up. Kate leaned against the door frame with her arms folded and a crooked smile on her face. I could write a monograph about all the smiles of Kate and how I fell in love with each one.

“Uh, yes,” I said to Angie. I stood there uncertainly.

She straightened up and clapped her hands. “Good for you knowing when you need changed! That means you’re on your way to being a big boy. Buuut,” she said, drawing out the word, “you’re not yet, are you?”

I surprised myself by feeling, instead of umbrage, a desire for her approval and acknowledgment that I was, in fact, a big boy. “Yes I am, too!”

Angie rolled her eyes at me. “Uh-huh. In that case, let’s change the ‘big boy’s’ peepee diaper. Wanna show us where you put your things?”

I stepped away from the dresser and pointed to the still open drawer. “I put some diapers in here and my other changing stuff on the dresser. Oh, and uh, I didn’t put this away yet,” I said as I stepped across the to the bed and grabbed the bed pad. “The rest of my diapers are in the closet.”

“Da rest of da big boy’s diapers are in him’s closet,” Angie teased me in her baby voice.

“Yes,” I shot back, furrowing my brow to let her know I wasn’t amused.

Angie turned to Katie and gushed, “He is just the cutest pouter.”

“O,” Kate responded, “It has its limits.” Without another word, Angie walked up to me and pulled my shorts down before I could stop her. I wished I’d worn pants with a belt.

“Mhmm,” she said as she looked at my diaper. I instinctively covered up, and she batted my hands away. “You can see he’s wet by the wetness indicator,” Angie explained to my wife, “but you can’t really tell how wet without feeling,” she continued as her hand cupped the front of my diaper. “This diaper could hold more, but since Jordy has sensitive skin he should be changed more often.” She gently put her hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “Of course, over time his skin will get tougher, and then he can wear the same diaper until he’s wet to about here,” she explained as the drew her finger across my diaper about where my tailbone ended, “assuming his diapee doesn’t leak first, of course.”

“Uh-huh,” Katie said as Angie turned me back around.

“And nothing is worse than leaky pampers,” Angie declared in a mock-serious baby tone again, “except diapee rash.” She smiled at me. My patience was wearing a bit thin with her.

“C’mere,” Angie told Kate. “I want to show you something else.” Kate stepped over to us. “Jordy is not a big boy yet,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “but he is getting bigger even as we speak. Feel.” Angie’s fingers brushed over the front of my diaper, and after a moment’s hesitation, Katie wrapped her hand over my crotch. “See? Maybe he’s not an ageplayer, but he definitely enjoys a little erotic humiliation.” I blushed and looked down, which only brought my gaze to Kate’s hand, still on me.

“Mhmm,” Kate said again, that crooked smile coming back. I had a bad feeling about what she was thinking.

“Now, though,” Angie said as she brought back out the sing-song voice people save for toddlers, “he’s needs him’s pants changed out of that wet diaper.” She grabbed the bed pad and spread it on the floor, ordering me to get sit down on it using just her eyes. Friendly eyes with a hint of a threat behind them.

“Lay back, baby,” she said.

“I’m not a baby!”

“Okaaaay! You’re not a baby,” she said still using that voice. “You’re the big grown man who went peepee in his diaper and needs to be changed by his Auntie Angela before his bum gets all red and sore again.” Put that way, I could see how just being a baby was less embarrassing. “Could you hand us one of his pampers,” she asked Kate in her normal tone. Kate did and handed down the wipes and cream, too. She leaned against the dresser behind me. looking down from above.

“You’re not gonna wiggle too much,” Angie said in what I now assumed was the voice she just intended to use with me no matter what I said. I wondered if Kate could make her stop, but as I was lying on the floor and defenseless, I thought it best to bring it up later. She pulled my shirt up. “It’s really important when changing boys to pbbbbbbbbt!”

I have no idea the last time someone blew a raspberry on my stomach. More than twenty years. I laughed and squirmed despite myself, and it felt good as her long hair drifted across my naked tummy. 

Kate thought it was hilarious. “Aw,” she said, “I think he liked that.” Being referred to in the third person is not my favorite thing.

“All little boys like that. Now,” Angie said, “Let’s see what in your diapee. I don’t smell any poopy, but you can never be too careful.” I looked up at my wife while Angie tugged at the tapes. I sighed. I don’t know what wires got crossed in my head to make me love this, and I don’t care. I just love it. 

“Hhhh,” Angie gasped, “you’ve been such a good boy using your rash cream! And you got it everywhere it needs to go. Good job! Such a good job,” she continued as she used my wet diaper to wipe the spent cream off. “Who did a good job? Jordy did!!! Who did a good job? Jordy did!!!!! Up-up!”

I lifted my hips, and she pulled the diaper out from under me and set it to the side, leaving it open. “Keep that tush up.” I held my butt off the changing pad while she unfolded my new diaper and pushed it under me. “Down-down.” I set myself back down. “What a good helper you are! Do you want to hold this? Will you hold this for your Auntie Angela?” She opened the tub of wipes and handed it to me, taking a few from it. “Knees spread, baby boy. Oops! I meant, ‘big boy.’ Sorry! It’s just hard to ‘member when I’m changing a peepee diapee! And it’s even harder when I open that diapee and find a not so big boy inside it!”

I twisted my face into a dirty look. Kate bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle caught my eye, and I turned my dirty look on her.

“Uh,” she said with her voice holding back laughter when she saw it hurt my feelins, “It’s small, but it’s fun.” Well, I didn’t know how to feel about that statement.

Angie smiled but kept wiping away around my crotch and under my bits. The cool, wet wipe and her thorough hands felt so good. “Now, knees up.” I lifted my knees to give her access to my butt. 

“I know!” Of course she did. “Can your mommy - sorry! - can your wife hold your feetsies up? We want to get you clean ebery-bear, don’t we?” I looked up and saw Kate standing up straight from her spot leaning against the dresser and stepping forward so she was directly over me, giving me a view up her shorts. “Get those feetsies up,” Angie said as she pushed my ankles upward. Kate took my feet and held my legs up, raising my lower back just barely off the changing pad. “Dere we go! Now I can reach all your spots! Wipe,” she said, and I held the tub closer to her so she could pull a few more free. This wasn’t a very comfortable position. She wiped off my butt cheeks, and then was particularly thorough in getting in between. It felt invasive and pleasurable. She was, apparently, more thorough about it than I had been.

“Uh oh! And you said you was a big boy,” she scolded me. I picked my head up. She was displaying the business side of the wipe, which betrayed the faintest bit of brown. “You dirty thing,” she said in her playful voice, more amusedly condescending to me than actually scolding me. “You dirty thing, you! You dirty thing, you!” I looked up to see my wife wearing her not-impressed face. Angie got another wipe and went back between my cheeks, rubbing it back and forth and, I think, trying to stimulate me back there. “One day I bet you’ll be able to do this on your own without needing your auntie to finish it for you. But dat’s okay because you still growing up!” She put the wipe down in the used diaper with the others and held her hands out to her sides palms up and elbows bent in an isn’t-this-obvious pose. “You still gwowin’ up!” My legs were getting tired.

“And now,” Angie announced excitedly, “it’s time for your diapee cream! Yay!” She unsnapped the cap and put some on the three middle fingers of her left hand. She lifted my scrotum with her right and smoothed the cream on, drawing and pushing it up the sides of my crotch. “Mmmm. Does you like dat? Huh? Is dat your faborite part of your diapee change?” She laughed and wiped the excess on the pristine white of the new diaper. “Legs down.” Kate let go of my feet, and I brought them back down, keeping my knees open.

“Awww. We almost done,” Angie pouted. She pulled the new diaper up between my legs and smoothed the winged out over my hips. “But you’re doing such a good job holding still and being my helper. And one,” she said as she sealed the first tape, rubbing her fingers across it extra firmly. “And two. And three. And four. All done!” She patted the front of my new diaper and left her hand there, her fingers drumming over my penis. She looked up at Kate. “And that is how you change a diaper on a boy like Jordy.” She smiled and looked quite pleased with herself.

She stood up and held out a hand for me. I took it and stood, sighing as I did. Despite myself, that had been enjoyable, physically speaking. Verbally, less so.

“Is it normal for him to be a little dirty back there,” Kate asked Angie.

“Oh, yeah. It’s just a boy thing. Not all men, obviously, but pretty common in boys like Jordy. I mean, if potty habits were all that important to him, he wouldn’t wear pampers, would he? And it’s not like he’s gonna be leaving skid marks anywhere important.” She chuckled at her own joke.

“Guess not,” Kate laughed.

“And he did seem to enjoy himself throughout all that,” Angie said. “Maybe he isn’t ready to admit that to himself yet. But a little shame isn’t such a bad thing. It could help keep him in line even. Jordy,” Angie said to me in a sweet voice but not the baby tone she’d been using, “What’s more embarrassing? Getting your diapee changed or getting your bum-bum spanked?”

“Uh,” I responded, not sure. It guess it didn’t occur to me to say something like, none of your business.

“See,” Angie said after a beat. “He can’t pick. You can put your shorts back on, honey.”

“You seem to have a lot of experience doing that,” Kate said to Angie. 

“With boys of all ages. If you don’t mind me saying, you should consider getting him some fun diapers. Those are for nursing home patients - albeit a really good nursing home - not a boy Jordy’s age. Maybe something with prints.”

“I don’t like plastic diapers that much,” I said without thinking. “Too much noise.”

“Perfect for a little punishment sometimes then,” Angie happily deduced. “You could even make pants a privilege in the house.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kate said and then chewed on her lip.

“It would make it easier to see when he needs changed.” Kate smiled that crooked smile again. “Anyway,” Angie said, “I should get out of your hair.”

“What do you say, Jordy?”

“Thank you, Angie,” I said. I didn’t need the reminder. We all started walking downstairs.

“Really,” Kate said, “Thank you so much. This was so helpful.”

“My pleasure. I’ll babysit anytime.” She winked.

When she was gone, Kate rounded on me with a look somewhere between angry and not. “Sneaking sweets? Are you ten?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, thinking I had a pretty good idea where this was going.

“You can choose your punishment. Either I can spank you silly or you can do extra chores.”

“Chores!” I said that a little eagerly, I guess.

“I’m gonna come up with a list for the week, but your chore for the day is simple.” She stepped toward me and grabbed my T-shirt in her hands like she was holding on to lapels. She smiled. “It’s about three o’clock. I want five orgasms before bedtime, and that diaper is staying on the entire time.” So I had no idea where that had been going, but I liked where it went.

I suspected something was up, just not that right then. That crooked smile usually means Kate is having dirty thoughts. If you’d asked me when we got married how I’d feel if Katie began to see my diaper fetish as in anyway arousing, I’d have said elated. I guess Angie’s demonstration of the possibilities helped Katie see how our fetishes meshed more than she thought. As she kissed me hard right then and I kissed her back, I felt a warm tingling sensation, but buried somewhere inside me was a faint worry that Angie had given Kate all sorts of ideas on new ways to punish me and humiliate me.

As I thought about it later that night, I knew all I had to do was tell Kate there was a limit and that it wasn’t right for my fetish to be turned into a punishment in any way, shape, or form,, and then she wouldn’t. But I didn’t want to say that, so I guess Angie taught me something about myself as well.

“Oh,” Kate said as she broke the kiss and started to pull me toward the stairs. “You can cum too, if you can manage that through your diaper.”

I couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. She’d never told me I was allowed to cum. Maybe because this was technically a punishment. Anyway, five is a bigger number than it seems sometimes.