Mommy Lessons, Chapter 6 (Patreon)

Lesson Six: Building a Bond

In private, in my own thoughts, I knew that I wasn’t just straight. I wasn’t sure what to call myself - just about all the labels felt limiting in some way. I struggled with talking about my sexuality most of the time, if only because I felt so uncertain of any of it. I was a woman married to a man - what right did I have to say that I was bisexual; if not something else.

Maisie had been my lone “experiment.”. I had certainly tried before that and after that, so it had always been a point of contention with myself that my biggest “success” had been a total fluke.

She was a coworker of Neil’s, a bubbly young woman who I had run into at two or three consecutive work-related functions of his. Her zeal and exuberance threatened me, and I often worried if she was the type of woman that Neil fantasized in all the times he clearly wasn’t fantasizing about me. Surely she was the woman, in his fantasies, putting him in a diaper.

We hit it off somehow. We were in the same place, at the same time, and with the same drink in our hands. She reminded me of my younger self - or at least the person I wished I had been. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was she saw in me - perhaps my success in my own field, or just how “adult” I seemed.

She made a passing remark about how it wasn’t the men’s attention she sought in the office. I volleyed back with a comment about how I’d be giving her plenty of attention if we worked together. Twenty minutes, and another round of tequila later, we were making out in the backseat of her hatchback while Neil continued to talk to his co-workers inside.

It became “a thing.” I was obviously married, and she was working with my husband, so we agreed to keep everything quiet. We met once a week, usually having a drink or two before finding some place to kiss and feel each other up.

It was good; up until it wasn’t. We both wanted more. Not even a relationship. Just sex on a bed would’ve been a good start. A night where we weren’t looking over each other’s shoulders. By the time Maisie called me to tell me that this wasn’t going to work out, she had only done so as a courtesy - we both knew our time was up before the call came.

To my knowledge, Neil never knew about it. I often wondered how he would’ve reacted. Would he have been more shocked that I was having an affair, or that I was seeking the romance of a woman?

--

I slowly woke to a subtle symphony of aromas. Baby powder, lavender, and maybe rose. I recognized the nursery relatively quickly, but it seemed to be from a perspective I hadn’t seen it in before. I eventually realized that I was in the crib.

I had no recollection of climbing into the crib myself. Had Averie managed to carry me over here? Her talents didn’t cease to amaze me.

Before I looked, my hands were between my legs to confirm that I had been put into a new diaper. It felt thicker and bulkier than the last one - an impressive feat given how plump that one had been. I had also been fitted into a new onesie - this one a soft purple color with a cartoon unicorn embroidered on the front of it. A pacifier - my pacifier - was stuck in my mouth.

I sucked on it.

The nursery’s one window had barely any light coming through the shades. I wondered how long I had been out for.  I couldn’t recall being especially exhausted earlier; though I suspected the emotional labor of the day had probably been what did me in.

I wondered how long I’d have to wait for her to return.

Averie.

Mommy.

I could call out to her. I could probably even just open the gate to the crib if I wanted to - it didn’t seem to be locked or anything.

Or, I thought, I could just lay here for a little longer. My fingertips found a soft blanket to my side, and I pulled it to my face. It felt so good against my skin. I rubbed it between my mouth and my nose.

It was a blissful few minutes, or however long it was, just laying in the crib and cuddling with the blanket. Every so often I’d turn to lay on my other side or my back. When I was on my back, I’d kick my feet in the air playfully.

I found myself liking these quiet moments so far. Mind you, this had only been the second one since my return to diapers - but it felt necessary. I could finally process things and talk with myself.

So...how fucking weird am I?

“I thought that I heard a little bit of stirring in here,” Averie said once she returned to the nursery. “All tuckered out, hmm? Have a big day?”

I nodded.

“Are you hungry, Princess?”

I hadn’t thought about food in a while - but I hadn’t eaten since I had been driving to Averie’s house. Almost on queue, as if my brain finally remembered to divert some energy to my stomach, I felt a little gurgle in my belly.

“Mmhmm.”

“I thought so. Let’s get you over to the highchair for some yummies then.”

Highchair. “Yummies.” She made it all sound so natural and normal, yet did she have any idea how humiliating it was for me to hear these words?

Of course she did.

I had spent most of my time in the nursery trying to avoid staring at the high chair. The wooden chair just seemed like an entirely different beast than anything else in the room. The crib, at the end of the day, was just a bed. The changing table was an inevitability for anyone venturing into the room. But the highchair seemed like a regressor unlike any other. Once the tray was lowered over your lap and it was latched in place, you were just stuck there - at the mercy of Mommy. I wasn’t just pretending to be a toddler once I sat in the chair - I would be a toddler.

The tray was lowered over my lap and latched in place. She tied a bib around my neck - a pastel yellow one with a picture of a cartoon bee on it.

“Shall we take a look at our options tonight?” she asked. It seemed rhetorical - she probably wasn’t going to like it if I actually responded “no.”

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, honestly. Animal crackers, or bread or something simple. When she produced actual jars of baby food from the shelf, I almost spit out my pacifier. It shouldn’t have surprised me - she had shown how thorough of an experience she wished to maintain every step of the way. It was me who needed to expect more.

“Sweet potato? Green beans? Sadly, I think I’m out of banana. That tends to be a favorite among babies.”

Neither sounded particular appealing to me. Any other time, I wouldn’t be disappointed to have either veggie as a side on my plate. But mushed up and in a jar? That didn’t sound good at all.

“Sweet potato,” she said, mostly to herself. Then, to me: “You really ought to try them all sometime. You should know which ones are the best and which are the worst. Sometimes you can match a baby’s attitude to the baby food they deserve. You? You certainly deserve sweet potato.”

Was that a good thing? A bad thing?

She opened the jar with a little ‘popping’ sound coming from the lid’s removal. She carefully stirred the brownish sludge with a tiny baby spoon before finally bringing it closer to me. My pacifier was pulled from my mouth and set aside.

“Are you going to be a good girl and eat all your food? Or are you going to make this difficult for Mommy?”

Without knowing how dreadful the food would be, I offered a little smile, hoping that’d be enough to convey that I was cautiously cooperative.

There was no cutesy airplane or choo-choo-train to slowly bring the food to my mouth. Just a sudden thrust of her spoon that landed in my mouth before I could even process that her hand was moving. The flavor was fine, or fine enough. I’m not sure I would’ve guessed ‘sweet potato’ in a blind taste test, but I’ve probably paid to eat worse things in my life.

It was the texture that threw me for a loop. Somewhere between mashed potatoes and applesauce, and definitely not a texture that matched the flavor. I felt bad for infants who didn’t know any better. I felt bad for me, who was going to have to get through a whole jar of this.

“I tried to make my own baby food once,” Averie said as she fed me spoonful after spoonful of the formless glop. “The problem with that is that it tasted too good. Babies were actually asking me if they could take some home with them. Kind of defeats the point, don’t you think? I’ll stick to the jarred baby food, thank you very much.”

Another thick blob was shoveled into my mouth, just about causing me to wretch. I kept it together and swallowed it. My eyes remained fixed on her face, as hers did on mine, the entire time she fed me the foul mush. I felt like it was giving me strength. She wanted me to succeed, just as I wanted to impress her and make her happy.

When the jar was empty - and she did her best to make sure that every drop she could reach with a spoon had been scooped up and deposited into my mouth - she lifted the bib up from my chest and used it to wipe off my face. I wasn’t even sure that I had had food around my mouth.

“There we go,” she cooed. “Wasn’t that yummy?”

I started to nod, but I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t want to be ungrateful either. I just shrugged instead.

She giggled. “I suppose it is a pretty gross thing. But you were a good girl to have swallowed it all. Is that a thing you like to do? Swallow?”

Her question caught me off guard. It felt...a little crass coming from her.

“I’m teasing,” she said. “But...seriously. You’ve been a very good girl today. You really impressed me.”

I smiled bashfully, feeling my cheeks blush some, under the makeup.

“I’d hesitate to say that I grow bored with what I do. I don’t. But there are some days - some clients, really - that just...kind of drain me. You are not that. You’ve been a delight today. I truly mean that.”

It felt good to hear her say that. She hadn’t really been shy about her enjoyment of today’s events at any other point in the day, but it still felt good to hear.

“Since you’re not paying for this weekend anyway,” she finally said, lifting the tray from the highchair to free me, “perhaps I can steal you away from the nursery for a while tonight?”

I tilted my head a little, intrigued by what she meant.

“You’ll be staying in diapers. But...in lieu of an early bed time and a bottle of warm milk, I’ll open a bottle of Hennessy and we can have some actual girl talk?”

I had never had Hennessy, I wasn’t even sure what it was, besides alcohol. Still, I did like the idea of having a little bit of adult time with the most interesting person I had met in a number of years.

“That’d be nice,” I said.

“I can still serve you drinks in a bottle if you want.”

“I...I think I’ll be fine without one,” I said. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for drinking out of bottles tomorrow.”

She laughed, nodding. “Why don’t you get into some comfortable clothes. You probably didn’t bring any clothes of your own...but you’re welcome to wear whatever you find here - be it from the nursery or my room.

--

My onesie was comfortable enough for me to choose to stick with it as my clothing-of-choice for the evening. It “kept me real,” or so I told myself - but I wasn’t exactly sure what I meant by that either.

Hennessy, as it turned out, was not something I really enjoyed. It was a kind of cognac, she said, though that didn’t mean much to me. I was never a big drinker. I enjoyed a cocktail or two, but it just never really seemed to be a part of my scene.

Averie, on the other hand, seemed well versed in drinking.

“I don’t have many friends,” she said. It didn’t sound like she was lamenting this, she was just stating it. “I think I outgrew my friends. Which, you know, sounds silly when you consider how I’m well-versed in caring for people who haven’t grown up.”

I laughed into the glass I was taking the tiniest of sips from.

“I don’t really know how to make friends as an adult,” she continued. “It rarely bothers me. Just sometimes.”

“I get that,” I said. “If you don’t have a network of friends that stick around as you get older, then you just don’t get that kind of time, or place, to make new ones.”

“Would I be too presumptuous to say that it sounds like you can relate?”

“Not at all,” I said with a laugh. “Who needs friends when I have a crumbling marriage to nurse back to health.”

“Well,” Averie said, raising her glass of cognac into the air as if to toast, “you know what they say helps a marriage on the rocks, right?”

“No?”

“Getting put back into diapers by the woman your husband pays, so that you can then go back home and put him in diapers yourself.”

We both laughed, though I did take a little bit of offense to that.

“I know it seems like I’m insane. I just...I hoped that I could…”

She waved her hand lackadaisically in front of her, as if sweeping it away. “I know, I know.”

“Do you truly not like Neil? Er...Nelly?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“But…”

“Get a few more drinks in me,” she said. “I’ll tell you what I really think.”

“What about you?” I asked. “You said, earlier, that you had done this for someone you cared about?”

She took another sip - a long sip - and nodded. “Andrew, yeah. We weren’t married, though we probably could’ve been. He wanted this.” She pointed into the air and waved her finger around in a circle to signify that “this” was everything she currently had.

“So what happened?”

She sighed. “Isn’t there some sort of adage about how you can’t change a man unless he’s in diapers?”

“I haven’t heard that,” I said. “But I like it.”

“I changed plenty of his diapers. I became his dream mommy. But as it turned out, he would still rather fuck his co-worker.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. It was the wake-up call I needed, honestly. I had been trying so hard to please him, only to realize that he had been doing nothing to please me. In fact, he was pleasing other people. So, you know, I broke up with him and sent a video of him getting his diaper changed to his new little friend.”

“Oh my gosh...how did that go over?”

She shrugged and laughed. “I see her from time to time in town. She won’t make eye-contact with me. He...moved across the country. I suppose it didn’t pan out. But I was left with a closet full of diapers and the desire to turn other men into babies. And, voila. A new career was born, like a phoenix from the flames.”

I gave her a little round of applause while she topped our drinks off.

“I guess,” I said, “you didn’t really need to get many more drinks in you?”

“How so?”

“Well...your story seems applicable to my own situation.”

“Oh, does it?” she said with a mischievous smile. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” I said. “I thought I did. I thought I had it figured out on the way here today. But now I don’t know if I want to just tell Neil to fuck off or…”

“Or…?”

“Book an entire month with you.”

“That’d be expensive, you know?”

“Can’t I just work it off?”

“I’m not sure what work you could possibly do for me that would counteract just the cost of the diapers I’d need for you.”

I blushed - the makeup she applied earlier had worn a bit, and I’m sure she could see my cheeks glow now. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Dumpling.”

“Do you ever have a client who you, like...want to see outside of a session?”

“It’s important for me to keep my business separate from my personal life,” she said. “It’s for my own good. My clients’ as well, really.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s only happened once,” she then added.

“Oh?”

She shrugged and then laughed a little. “Do you need to call home? Let Neil know you’re staying the weekend?”

“I don’t think he knows I’m here. But I also don’t think he knows where I am at all. I...actually don’t think I know where he is either.”

We both laughed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “It’s been a while since I spent some time with someone else and they weren’t in a…”

“I’m in a diaper,” I reminded her, sensing where she was going with this.

She laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, alright. So then it’s been a while since I’ve spent time with someone, diapered or not, where we just drank and chatted a little.” A moment later she added: “How is your diaper, anyways?”

“Maybe you should check for yourself. Mommy.”

“Did you just learn how to be sassy? I certainly never taught you that.”

“I was born this way,” I said, faux-dramatically.

“I’m in no rush,” she replied. “If you’re wet, you can sit in it for a little longer.”

I wasn’t wet. Not yet. My bladder had been slowly working at getting my attention, and the idea of wetting myself as I sat here talking to Averie was being tossed about in the back of my mind. I wanted to - it was just a matter of when.

“More?” she asked, holding up the bottle of brown liquid. I nodded. I still didn’t love it, but it felt very much of this moment. Later, when I looked back at this night, I wanted to taste the cognac in my mouth. I held up my glass to receive some more.

And we talked for a while. A long while. I looked to her ornate grandfather clock at one point, and saw that it was 2 AM, and we had shown no signs of slowing down. For once, we weren’t talking about boys or diapers. Or boys in diapers. We talked about movies that made us cry, or the hottest pepper we could stand to eat. Chicken nuggets vs. chicken tenders. We ranked the cast members of Parks and Recreation from our least to most favorite.

“Unless we want to spend tomorrow sleeping, we should at least attempt to get some sleep,” she eventually said.

“I suppose…”

“Babies usually sleep in the crib. No, sorry I misspoke - babies always sleep in the crib.”

I blushed, being reminded of my place while I was in this house.

“I’m tempted to make an exception for you,” she said with a sly smile.

“Where would I sleep then?”

She shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter, does it? Rules are rules. Babies go into the crib.”

“What if...I wasn’t a baby?”

“Come here,” she said.

I peeled myself off the couch, my vision a little fuzzy and my head a little cloudy. I didn’t walk - I waddled over to her, probably already spoiling my diaper’s state.

She cupped the bottom of my diaper, through the onesie, with her hand between my legs, giving it a gentle jostle. There was no doubt that it had become a little heavier; more jelly-like.

“It’s a shame,” she said. “Had you been able to keep your diaper clean, maybe you could’ve slept in Mommy’s bed. But it looks like you really are just a baby, yes? I suppose we’ll just have to take care of that diaper and get you into your crib for the night.”

My heart dropped. Had I actually been that close to sleeping with her? Or...had she known all along how tonight would play out and was only teasing me now?

It didn’t really matter. Another diaper change wasn’t a bad thing. I did need one, after all. And I found myself willing to do unspeakable things in my diaper if it meant that her hands would be on me again.