Mommy Lessons, Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Lesson 4: Creating a Mess

For all of Neil’s openness, he was especially guarded about his kinks with me. No matter how much I assured him that he could trust me with it, he still tiptoed around the things that he truly liked when I tried to play with him in this space. He’d wear a diaper with me. He’d wet himself and I’d change him on occasion. But it was rare I got to see much more than that.

Sometimes, I’d be out of the house for a few hours, and I’d come home only to find him scrambling to change out of a diaper or to hide whatever toys and diapers he had laid out for himself. It frustrated me because I wasn’t sure how to make it more clear that he didn’t have to hide this stuff from me. Besides, it was always pretty obvious what he had been doing. The smell of baby powder - or the occasional messy diaper in the trash can - wasn’t something that just dissipated from the air once he was done playing.

Once, exactly once, he had messed his diaper in front of me. We had taken a vacation to the Pacific Northwest, and two days into the trip he surprised me by revealing he had not only brought diapers, but that he was wearing one while we were out and about in Seattle. It was rare for him to do something so daring - and even more rare that he’d share such a thing with me. I was excited and happy for him.

We did a lot of drinking that particular day. We had retired to the hotel room earlier than expected, though I can’t recall if it was because we simply couldn’t function much longer in public, or if we got it in our heads that we were going to go back to the room for a different kind of fun. Regardless, within minutes of being back in the room, Neil’s pants were off and he was waddling around in a very wet diaper.

I had asked him repeatedly if he wanted me to change him. He was interested, but he kept saying he wasn’t ready yet. This went on for a while, until finally he held a drunken finger up to me, signalling that he just needed a moment. Then? Squat. Fart. Poop. There was no discussion about it, before or after. No sooner than he had filled his diaper right in front of me - an especially stinky blob of day-drunk shit - he realized that maybe he wasn’t prepared for talking to me about how we addressed it, and he booked it into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Two hours and two showers later, he re-emerged.

We didn’t talk about it. Not once.

A thought occurred to me as Averie’s hand was somewhere deep inside my diaper, searching for my little backdoor so she could shove a suppository up into it. I wondered what would have happened, back in Seattle, if I had stopped Neil from going into that bathroom. If I had held onto his arm, or if I had just demanded that he stayed put. If I had taken control of the moment, instead of allowing him the chance to get into his own head, what would have happened?

“Do you always look this intense when someone’s slipping something into your bottom, Baby?”

She shook me out of my little trip into my memory. I wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing - that she was in the midst of shoving something into my ass, or that I was so out of it that I barely even noticed.

Her hand slid from my diaper. And she wiped her fingers off in a baby wipe.

“There. All done. Not much longer now and we’ll be good to go.”

I just stayed in place on the floor, still on my hands and knees, unsure of what to do or what to expect.

“Do you want to talk?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“You may talk if you’d like. Until you’ve gone and messed your diaper, at least.”

“H-how long does it take?”

“You’ve never had the pleasure of a suppository before?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“Neither have I,” she said with a sadistic laugh. “But I’ve administered enough of them. Ten minutes. 15, maybe. But probably not much longer than that. It could very well be less.”

“Oh. And then?”

“Then? You go.” She made a raspberry noise with her mouth. “It's an amazing thing, really. I’ve seen everyone from the most stoic little boys to the babies who probably didn’t have much control over their bottoms in the first place lose in the end to the will of the suppository. It’s the great glycerin equalizer.” She laughed at herself.

I realized that my breathing was getting a little heavier. I didn’t think I felt anything in my insides just yet. But I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know when to expect anything.

“Take my hand,” she said. I did so without hesitation.

She led me out of the nursery and back down the stairs again into her living room. She took a seat back on the chair she sat in before - her throne - except this time she patted her lap.

“Come here,” she said. “Come sit on my lap.”

“But...you just put a...in my…”

“I’m well aware of what I just did, Dumpling. I don’t put a finger into a little girl’s bottom and forget about it. Now, come sit on Mommy’s lap.”

It seemed to me that she was playing a dangerous game. Still, I really had little to lose, myself. My diaper would be quite dirty soon regardless, and I had already left most of my dignity at the door. I obediently climbed into her lap.

Like everything else I had experienced since walking through her door in a diaper, I found myself surprised by how comfortable I found myself in that moment. I liked being in her lap. I liked sitting in a lap, period. I couldn’t remember the last time I experienced it, and it almost made me giggle to see how my feet swung in the air from off the side of her legs.

“How are you feeling, Princess?”

“Good,” I said, honestly. It was hard to determine if I was or wasn’t. I might have felt a flutter in my stomach? Or...I might have just imagined it.

“You’ll know it when you feel it,” she said - either reading my mind or just something she knew to say in this moment from experience.

“Will it be gross?” I asked.

“Have you ever made a mess in your pants before, peanut?”

“N-no…”

“You might find it gross.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head. “Either I’ve seen too many dirty diapers in my life, or I just trust that I can always wash my hands later.”

I liked that approach. It didn’t make what was about to happen any easier, but it at least provided some perspective. At the end of this, I could just wash my hands. Or take a shower. I wanted this to give me some relief, though it didn’t do much.

Her right hand stroked my back, while her left hand began to gently rub my tummy in a circular motion. Her knees bounced up and down, just the slightest bit, jostling my insides about.

“Are you going to be a good girl for Mommy?”

“Mm...Yes. I am.”

“Are you? How are you going to be a good girl?”

“I’m...I’m going to…”

“Yes? Go on. Tell Mommy about what you’re going to do.”

“I’m going to mess my diaper?”

“Are you asking me? I think you know the answer, Baby.”

“I’m going to mess…” I thought better of it. I started over: “I’m going to poop myself, Mommy. I’m going to...poop in my diaper. On your lap.”

She moaned. “It’s not often that a baby excites me. Truly excites me. But you’re special.”

Her words made my heart flutter. Who knows, maybe she said that to everyone. But it didn’t matter, because she was saying it to me at that moment.

I felt it. A cramp in my insides. Somewhere inside of me, I could feel her suppository beginning to work its magic. I let out a short breath through my nose and fidgeted a little.

“Did you feel a little something inside of you?” she cooed, her hand still rubbing my belly. It felt good. Very soothing - but also a little agitating. Like she was helping to move things around in there somehow.

I nodded bashfully.

“I looked up your husband’s name before,” she said. “While you were in the nursery wetting yourself. I was curious if I’d remember who he was.”

“Did you?”

“How could I forget Baby Nelly?”

“Baby...Nelly?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “He’s been here a few times, yes?”

I nodded.

Another cramp in my belly. This one was a little stronger than the last.

“I was a little surprised, honestly,” she said.

“O-oh? Why?”

“I was trying to imagine who your husband could be. I wondered what kind of little baby would be special enough for you to jump through these hoops for him. This does seem like an elaborate way to win someone’s affection back.”

I hung my head. She wasn’t wrong. I was no stranger to these observations.

“I just hope you’re doing this for the right reasons,” she said softly.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. I wanted to. There were a lot of things I wanted to say. I wanted to defend Neil and tell her all about how happy we were together before we drifted apart. I wanted her to know that this was how much I loved him - I was willing to let myself wear a diaper while sitting on her lap and waiting to mess myself, just so that I’d learn how to handle his own desires to do these things.

But I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t, really. It was getting harder to talk as the cramps started to get worse. Pressure was building in my abdomen. Things were in motion now, and every second that passed was a second closer to disaster. All the while, she rubbed my belly slowly.

Something occurred to me though: “Was he...special enough?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You said that you wondered what kind of baby Neil was, and if he was special enough for me to do all this for him. Did you think that he was?”

She sighed. “Dumpling, maybe we should just worry about you right now.”

“Please? I want...ugh…” It was another cramp. My bowels felt like they were being pushed to their limits. “...to know.”

“I can learn a lot about someone based on how they behave here,” she said. “It’s not always obvious. You can have someone show up here who acts like the biggest brat who ever lived - but I know that they’re truly a soft and warm soul.”

I grunted from discomfort.

“But Neil,” she continued. “He was...selfish. Through and through. Just a selfish little child. May I be frank with you, cupcake?”

“Mmhmm,” I said, staving off another groan enough to respond.

“He’s not my favorite. But you?”

Another desperate groan. I felt like I was somehow both cold and sweating at the same time. My guts felt like they were about to explode. My bowels were hanging on for real life.

“You’re very good. One of the best I’ve worked with in a long time, honestly.”

“Ughhh…”

“You know what it is? Your willingness. Sure, maybe your goals are the tiniest bit questionable in the scheme of things. But for someone who has never worn diapers before today, you’ve shown up the shy little babies I’ve spent entire weekends with. You should be proud.”

“I...uhm...Averie....”

“Well, first of all, that’s not what you’re to call me…”

“M-mommy, I…”

“Anyways, as I was saying. You’re a much better baby than the one you wish to be a mommy for.”

“Mommy, I...I need to…”

“You’ll have to wait until I say you can release, Dumpling. Besides, Mommy is talking. You shouldn’t be interrupting.”

I let out another exasperated moan, feeling a bubble of gas working its way out of my bottom uncontrollably.

“Have you thought about that? Maybe just giving up this whole little quest to become a Mommy and spend some more time in diapers? You may find it more rewarding.”

I wasn’t even paying attention. Everything around me seemed blurry and vague - sights, sounds, smells. It all just meshed together.

I glanced to her face, hoping that she’d, at the very least, give me the permission to talk again.

“Do you have to go potty, baby?”

“Uh huh…”

“I bet it’s getting very hard to do, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes.”

“I can only imagine. Just look at you, a little baby in her diapers who can barely control what her body does in them.”

“Unf…”

“Can you do it now, baby? Can you go ahead and make a big mess for mommy?”

In my daze, I didn’t think to just finally relieve the pressure and just release it all into the diaper. Instead I asked: “A-are you sure, Mommy? May I? Please?”

She smiled and shook her head gently; clearly smitten with my level of commitment.

“Yes,” she said. “Please, Princess. Fill your diaper up completely for Mommy.”

I wasn’t sure if I had actually done anything to allow it to happen, or if my body just finally gave in to the losing battle. There, on her lap, I loaded the diaper. It forced its way out in one wave that was so sudden and violent that it felt as if I had just expelled a fist into the back of my diaper. A wet and loud fist.

There were probably better positions for this. None more humiliating than this one, but probably better. Sitting on her legs, there were limited places for my mess to go - not that that stopped it. It shot in every direction within my diaper, filling areas I hadn’t expected it to.

I looked back to her. Every instinct in my body was telling me that I’d see disgust and regret in her eyes. But in my heart I knew that I’d see only satisfaction.

Of course I was right.