Mommy Lessons, Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Hi everyone, and welcome to a new ongoing story. I'm trying a few new things out for this story - so your feedback is absolutely welcome. For one, this story will be excusive for Tier 2 and Tier 3 readers, and it will be published every other week until this "Season" is compete. I'll outline the details of this plan in a blog post later this week.

Also, I am making the first chapter accessible to Tier 1 patrons too, but the rest will be exclusive to the higher tiers.

I hope you enjoy the story!

Lesson One: Following Instructions

The door opened, and there she was. Ms. Averie Lange. A tall and commanding presence - I could immediately see the appeal. A prime specimen of a “MILF,” if there was anyone left alive using such an acronym. I don’t know what I expected. Someone ‘softer,’ I suppose. I think I had been imagining a mid-century dress and apron - which seemed to be on the opposite end of the spectrum from the sleek and more modern dark grey dress she actually wore.

Starting at my feet, I watched her eyes scan my entire body, her head slowly rising until we looked each other in the eyes. Already, she was exerting a power over me; I found myself frozen in place as I waited for her to finally speak to me.

“Well now,” she finally said, her cadence dripping with equal parts calm and smug certainty. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

That made two of us.

I felt myself blushing, but I wasn’t even sure why. It was as if she was exploiting vulnerabilities that I didn’t even know I had.

“What were you expecting?”

“Hmm.” She remained a stoic pillar in the doorway while she stroked her chin, blocking my further traversal. A literal gatekeeper. “Someone who followed directions, for one.”

I sighed. I had spent most of the hour drive there thinking about how I’d introduce myself and how I’d explain what I was actually seeking. She had sent me some instructions for today’s ‘session,’ and I had ignored them, thinking that they wouldn’t be relevant to me.

Still, I was very impressed.

“H-how did you know that I…”

“Oh please,” she said. “I have little boys and girls marching through this door everyday. Did you not think that I have a sixth sense for determining what someone’s wearing under their pants? I could spot a padded bottom from a half mile away. And you, miss, do not have a padded bottom.”

“Well, see, about that. I actually wanted to talk to you a little bit about why I’m…”

“Do you think that I have a reputation for being the best because I let my clients dictate my policies?” she asked, cutting me off.

“...No?” I wasn’t exactly sure where she was going with this.

“Correct. I have a reputation for being the best because I set expectations and I do not back down from them. There are no exceptions. You wanted a session? Then you’ll follow the same rules as everyone else.”

“But, I’m not a…”

“Miss...Daisy, was it? I’m more than happy to close the door and just end this session now if you don’t wish to comply with my very simple rules.”

I sighed again. I was frustrated. Why wouldn’t this woman just listen to me?

“I don’t have any diapers,” I finally said.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” Averie said, a grin growing across her face. “You may have one of mine.”

“But that’s just it. I’m not…”

“Would you like to come in, or not?”

“Y-yes. Please.”

“Then here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to fetch you a diaper. Once I give it to you, I’ll be closing my door. You’ll need to go put that diaper on and then you’ll need to return. And once you do, I’ll let you right in. It’s as simple as that.”

“Fine,” I said. I was pouting, which likely didn't improve my standing with her. If anything, it was probably just further fuel for whatever power trip she seemed to be on.

She stepped away from the door for just a moment, reappearing with a diaper. Of all the things to be on the forefront of my mind, I was wondering why she kept diapers so close to the front door.

It was shoved into my hands and without another word, she closed the door in my face.

“W-wait,” I said. “Where am I supposed to…”

There was no use in finishing that sentence. She was gone, and I knew better than to knock on the door again without having done what she asked.

I walked back to my car, and I just sat in it for a few minutes while rotating the diaper around in my hands. For a moment, I was tempted to just drive home and to abandon my goal. Had I not paid in advance, I probably would’ve.

It wasn’t my first time seeing, or even holding a diaper like this, but it was the first time I truly thought about them. Look at this thing - it’s ridiculous. But I had to admit, there was something kind of impressive about its construction. They weren’t baby diapers and they probably weren’t the first choice for adults actually suffering from incontinence. Horny willpower alone seemed to summon these into existence.

I hadn’t worn a diaper before. To have one thrust into my hands and to be told to find a place to put it on - whilst an hour away from my own home, and without access to hers - seemed a little unfair.

I supposed that I had set myself up for this. I knew her reputation - that was why I was here. I wondered if I should’ve been more clear about what I wanted when I set up the appointment. Or...if I should’ve just worn a diaper.

It had been her only request. You’re expected to arrive at my home already wearing a diaper. The condition of said diaper matters not to me, but your arrival while wearing them isn’t an option.

I drove around her neighborhood for a little bit, looking for a place where I could get just enough privacy, ultimately settling on an expansive parking lot for a shopping center that seemed to be either closed or well past its busiest days. There, in the corner of the vast empty lot, I snuck into the backseat of my car so that I could pull my pants and panties down.

This was a side of the equation I had never been on before. I knew how to put a diaper on someone else - but I never thought I’d have to put one on myself. Let alone in the cramped backseat of my car in a mostly public setting. I was quick and I was sloppy, but I got the job done. I quickly pulled my pants and panties up over the diaper. On the way back to her house, I daydreamed about taking a shit in the diaper out of spite - but that seemed like it’d be a lot worse for me than it’d be for her.

Besides, I’d never done anything like that before, and it was unlikely that I’d be able to do that now.

Averie quickly answered the door when I knocked again. Once more, she thoroughly looked me over.

“Much better,” she said. “Just think of how much further into our session we’d be had you shown up in a diaper in the first place.”

I didn’t say anything, feeling ashamed of myself for having buckled under her authority.

She stepped aside and I finally stepped into her foyer. It was a small hub connecting a living room on my left, a dining room on my right, a kitchen straight ahead and some stairs that went up to the second floor. An outstretched hand pointed to her living room, and I filed into it.

“Have a seat,” she said. “We should have a talk.”

I took a seat on a rather plush green sofa. With its wood trim, it looked gorgeous. It looked expensive. Everything in here did. I wondered which came first: the money, or the desperate adult babies.

“I don’t believe I’ve had a client like you before,” she said, taking a seat in a black chair that could almost be seen as a very posh throne.

“How so?” As if I didn’t already know.

“My clients come to me for a specific experience,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean that they don’t still have a laundry list of things they want. And that’s fine. They’re paying for my time. Shouldn’t they get what they want? But you, you’ve been different at every step of the way. You left most of the queries on my online questionnaire blank. When we spoke on the phone to set up this appointment, you couldn’t offer any specific fantasies you wanted to explore. And today you show up in violation of a very simple rule. I’ve had some terrible clients, Ms. Daisy, but I’ve never had one who defied that rule.”

“If I’m being honest, I didn’t come here to play.”

“I assumed as much. So then why are you here? Are you a reporter? Documentary filmmaker? Someone who just likes to have very expensive conversations?”

“My husband...Neil. He’s been a client of yours in the past,” I said.

Her eyes widened and she lifted her head a little. For the first time, she seemed to have been caught off guard.

“Even more curious,” she purred. “Are you here to yell at me for taking your husband’s money without your consent?”

“N-no,” I said. “I didn’t, initially, know he had been coming here. But I know a lot of things now that I didn’t before.”

“Go on.”

“My husband...he’s, well, obsessed with you. I don’t think he knows that I know this, but I do. He’s written of his experiences here with you, which he did an especially poor job of hiding on our laptop, and...I’ve never seen him talk about anything in quite the same way that he’s talked about you.”

“I have that effect on little boys, I’m afraid.”

“Our marriage is struggling. He’s a good man, and there was a time he was a good husband. But he’s grown complacent and lazy. He’s more self-absorbed. I don’t think you’re to blame...but he clearly has seen a world that thrills him more than anything I’ve been able to offer him at home.”

“And so you made an appointment to see me - paying a good amount of money to do so - so that you could...what? Ask me to no longer see your husband as a client?”

“Actually, I was hoping that maybe you could...teach me?”

“Teach you what, exactly?”

“Teach me how you treat someone like my husband. Teach me how to become the sexy authoritarian he lusts for. Teach me to be a...Mommy, I guess?”

She laughed again and sat back in her chair while she mulled over what I had just said. I watched as her fingers tapped the end of the arm on her chair.

“So, to be clear: Your husband has stopped contributing to your marriage and has, apparently, also lied to you about his whereabouts and how he’s been spending your money. And so you decide the best course of action is to...learn how to better please his sexual deviancies?”

“I guess it does sound a little ridiculous…”

“I feel compelled by my ethics to advise you that maybe you should be putting your money towards a divorce attorney, or at the very least a marriage counselor.”

“I...I’ve thought of that too.”

“But seeing as how you’re already here, and my rates are non-refundable, I also feel compelled to give you exactly what you wanted.”

I knew that she was right - about both points. It was probably a mistake to be here. But I was also already here.

“I just wonder if I can show him that I’m not only accepting of his interests, but willing to share that space with him. And if he could see that, then maybe he’d be able to join our marriage again. Everything else we could work out after that.”

She sighed, clearly still processing all the options.

“This is not a substitute for therapy,” she said.

“I know this.”

“And I am, in no way shape or form, responsible for the success of your marriage.”

“I know this.”

“I typically do not train people to do what I do. In fact, I’ve turned down requests from others.”

“I understand this.”

“I try not to mix my business with my personal life, Daisy, but here we are. You have me feeling...ways. Nostalgic, perhaps.”

I perked an ear up, hoping she’d elaborate.

“I, too, started where you are. I wanted to please just one man. He’s long gone now, but I have a better life - a more interesting life - instead. Against my better judgement, I’m willing to humor your request.”

I felt tears rolling down my cheek. I truly didn’t believe this would happen.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” she asked.

My head cocked to the side. “No? I...don’t think so, no. Why?”

“We’ll need more time. Your four hour appointment won’t be sufficient.”

“I mean...I don’t have any plans for tomorrow. But I don’t think I could afford an entire weekend with you.”

“This one’s on the house, Daisy. Please don’t make me regret this.”

I sighed with relief.

“Please,” I said. “I want to know everything.”

“I’m putting together a curriculum in my mind,” she said. “If we’re going to be thorough - and I feel that it should be - we have a lot of work to do.”

“O-of course,” I said. “Just let me know what you need from me. Anything.”

A smile broke across her face as she leaned forward again.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” She stood up from her chair; her throne. “We’ll have to start at the beginning.”

“Of course,” I said. “That makes sense.”

“The very beginning,” she added. I realized, too late, that I had spoken too soon. “To be a good Mommy, you must first learn to be a good baby.”

“But...I’m not…I’ve never been a…”

“That’s why you’re here, yes? To learn? Besides, you’re already in diapers; I’d say you’re halfway there. Now, let’s get you upstairs. The sooner we get you out of these adult clothes and into something more age-appropriate, the better.”