Mommy Lessons Season 1 [Complete Collection] (Patreon)

Hello. In this post, you will find all 10 chapters of the first season of Mommy Lessons. For your reading convenience.

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.”

Lesson Two: Expecting the Unexpected

“I’ll only be asking this question once,” Averie said. “Will you be following my rules?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Very good. From now, until I say otherwise, you’re my baby. You won’t be speaking. If you need to get somewhere, you’ll be expected to crawl. If you need to use the bathroom - well, you won’t.”

“Y-yes,” I said.

“Ah, see? What did I just say about speaking?”

My hand rushed to cover my mouth.

“I won’t be making any exceptions for you, Daisy. Regardless of what you’ll one day be, right now you’re just a baby. If you absolutely must talk, you can try making some baby noises with your mouth instead.”

I blushed. I couldn’t even imagine doing such a thing.

“In fact, why don’t we practice now?”

“I...but…” I quickly slapped my hand onto my mouth again, realizing that I was speaking yet again.

“It’s not hard. Just...talk like a baby. And don’t give me some ‘goo goo ga ga,’ either. Let it be from your heart. Imagine you didn’t know any words but you needed to communicate with me. Let it be silly. Let it be real.”

My heart was thumping far faster than what I thought my poor rib cage could handle. This was just the first task and I already found myself struggling.

I opened my mouth, but I simply couldn’t make any noise at all. I didn’t know what she expected from me.

“I had your money, and now I have your time,” she said. “If you want to learn anything this weekend, I suggest you start thinking less and doing more. But...it’s your time. You do with it as you please.”

Sighing, I tried to regroup and focus. She was right - I was on a clock here and it’d be a shame if trying to work up the courage to do something as minor as this ended up costing me half a day of her gifted attention.

Her words repeated themselves in my mind. Less thinking, more doing. From the heart.

I opened my mouth again, this time letting out a series of silly noises. It was a chorus of strange babbling consonants and squeaks. “Gabba bla gloo boo…” I felt my cheeks burning as I blushed.

“There you go,” she cooed to me. She added, in a tone that was absolutely drenched in condescension: “You did such a good job, baby!”

The worst part? I had actually liked how I felt doing it. It felt primal and freeing. I wondered if this was how Neil felt when he dressed up.

“Your clothes will need to come off,” she said. “I’ll need to do it for you, of course. You’re far too small to be left in charge of getting dressed and undressed yourself.”

Neil had described something to me that he called “little space.” Perhaps it was a more widely used term, I never thought to look - but I imagined that it was a phenomenon that others with similar kinks had reached to. It was a headspace, he said, where he no longer had to try to feel little or infantile - he simply was. I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t that I thought such a thing was implausible, but I simply couldn’t grasp reaching a state of mind where my very identity seemed to have been regressed.

I hadn’t reached that state in this moment with Averie, but for the very first time I was beginning to see what that might feel like. With just her words and her condescending tone, she was stripping away layers of my ego. She was threatening - and likely would make good on those threats - to strip away the facets of adulthood I had taken for granted. I was already in a diaper, after all. I hadn’t seen that coming.

She motioned for me to stand, and when I did, she wasted no time in hoisting my sweater up from my body and over my head. I blushed as my tank top and bra were revealed to her. Still, I made no effort to stop her. Next, she unfastened my pants before pulling them and my panties down to the ground. She beckoned me to take a step forward, stepping out of my pants. I did so. She returned to my tank top, pulling it straight up and off of me.

“You’re wearing a B cup,” she said. “I worry that it might be a little large for you.”

I blushed. This was true.

“If I do anything to make you uncomfortable - truly uncomfortable - you’ll let me know, yes?”

I nodded.

She stood behind me and she unfastened the bra. It didn’t pop open so much as the back straps just sort of gently flopped to my sides. It was more humiliating than just having her see me naked. She slid it from my arms and let it drop to the floor. I was now standing in her living room, completely nude - save for my diaper.

“Is there really that much of a difference between you and an actual toddler?”

Another wave of shame rolled over me. I didn’t find it to be crippling or hurtful though. I’d hesitate to use the word “like,” but...the appeal of being humiliated wasn’t lost on me.

Her hands reached around my body from behind me and cupped my breasts. She gently squeezed them, feeling their shape in her hands. I felt judged. But I felt like I’d be content with her hands on my chest for the rest of the weekend too.

“You did a dreadful job of putting that diaper on yourself too.”

I wanted to protest - but I knew better than to talk. Besides, she knew the circumstances when she handed me the diaper and sent me off earlier.

“The sooner you use this one, the sooner we can get you into a new fresh diaper, yes? One that won’t look like it was applied in the dark while you fell down some stairs. But don’t worry - I’ll take care of that too.”

I blushed again. Did she really expect me to use the diaper? She had as much earlier, but I hadn’t thought about it until now. I certainly couldn’t hold it all weekend.

“The nursery is upstairs. Come now, Baby, I’ll show you.

She walked past me and toward the stairs in the foyer. Instinctively, I crossed my arms in front of my chest to conceal them a little as I began to step forward. She swung her body around to face me again, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“You have no modesty,” she said. “Put your arms down. And...were you just about to walk?”

“Oh...I just…”

She raised her eyebrows even further with my attempt to speak.

“On your hands and knees, child.”

I fell to my knees and then leaned forward so that my hands were on the ground, supporting my upper body. She walked around me again to my backside. With little warning, she wound up her arm and gave my diapered bottom a single swift strike with her open hand. The loud slap of her hand on the diaper reverberated throughout the entire house. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t have to. I had once again been reminded of my place.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

“I can’t hear you, Baby.”

My heart beat quickly as I tried to decipher what I was supposed to do here. I couldn’t talk...yet she was asking me to speak?

Oh, right.

I blushed as I spoke: “Mah sahway fah bah bah.” It was mostly nonsense, even if I kind of knew what I was trying to say.

“Very good, little girl. Look at you, using your baby words for Mommy.”

Fuck. Another pang of confusing pleasure, deep down in my gut. She was good.

“Let’s go upstairs now.”

I hadn’t crawled around on the ground since...I was a child? It had been a long time. It wasn’t the sort of thing one forgets how to do, but it was definitely the type of thing that one would overthink if they hadn’t done it in a longtime. I felt like an awkward lumbering elephant, slowly shifting my weight from side to side as I plodded forward. She stood behind me the entire time, no doubt just watching my diapered bottom waggle right in her face.

“Do you think you’ll be able to crawl up these stairs, Baby?”

I offered an affirmative “Gah” in response. It wasn’t hard. One step at a time, I propelled my body up to the next step with alternating knees and hands.

With every movement, I felt her eyes on me as she slowly followed. I wondered what she was thinking. I wondered how my experience so far compared to the experiences of her usual clientele. I imagined they were more ready and willing to just jump into this world. She probably didn’t need to say much of anything for them to be crawling about while babbling like an infant.

“Down the hallway to the left,” she said. “It’s the open door. You do know which side is left, yes honey?” She proceeded to step in front of me and point to the open door on the left. “It’s this one. This is left.”

How was this even effective? How did she make me blush with that? It wasn’t how I expected it to happen, but I couldn’t deny that I was learning. Was there a better way than immersion?

I knew to expect a nursery; I read all about it in Neil’s writing. He was...a fan, to put it mildly. He described it as a “utopia,” a place that seemed pulled directly out of every fantasy he ever had.

I had an idea of what it might look like. I hadn’t gotten this far without doing my due diligence in researching online what babies like my husband enjoyed. I had, admittedly, written off his description of her nursery as just a lack of experience. I didn’t think Averie ran anything short of fulfilling experience - but I could also see how a minimally decorated room and a few diapers would feel like reaching nirvana if you were a desperate and kinky man who had never visited a room like that before.

Imagine my face, then, when I crawled into the nursery myself for the first time. “Extravagant” felt like an understatement. It was an overwhelming rush for my senses. Four walls of pastel pink. Cutesy baby animal decals flowed from one wall to another, creating a sort of parade around the room. In one corner there was a large wooden crib, and in the opposite, a matching changing table, with storage underneath that seemed packed with assorted baby changing supplies. Three was an oversized highchair. Some sort of thickly padded harness that hung from the ceiling. Shelves upon shelves of diapers. What looked to be closet doors, likely holding even more things. There was even a small wooden box along the wall that seemed overflowing with baby toys.

If I was an adult baby, I’d be pretty happy with this too.

I wondered if, in my current state, I was an adult baby.

“Sit right there,” she said. “Let’s see if we can’t make you look more the part.”

With no indication it was coming, she slid something into my mouth. It took me a moment to realize it was a pacifier. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, other than to just hold it in my mouth. I bit at the rubber piece and ran my tongue around it. It was...cute. A fun detail. I couldn’t quite see what someone like Neil saw in it, but I couldn’t deny that it helped push me a little deeper into a headspace that was beginning to feel entirely new to me.

She unrolled a pair of cream colored socks and she slid one up each of my feet and ankles. They nearly came to my knees, and it was only when she finished putting them on me that I saw they had little cute kitten faces printed on the very top of them, just below where the sock ended and my knees began.

“Arms up, little girl.”

I did as I was told, putting my arms straight into the air. She carefully worked them through the holes of a white garment that she then pulled my head through, before easing it down my body. I looked down at it, but I couldn’t get a good feel for what it was. A shirt? It seemed a little awkwardly shaped to be a shirt.

“Now you’ll need to stand up, dumpling.”

Another surge of shameful excitement ran through me. Her rotating pet names had a way of catching me off guard. I stood up, and as I watched her pull the tight form-fitting garment past my belly and hips, I realized it was a onesie. She reached between my legs, pulling a piece from the back through them, before fastening it to the flap in the front. The tight onesie gripped my body and held my diaper snuggly against my body.

“It helps keep your diaper in place, Baby. Heaven forbid your diaper ends up sagging too much.”

I wanted to assure her that my diaper wouldn’t be sagging. But I couldn’t talk. And, come to think of it, I couldn’t use the bathroom either. So...maybe it could be?

“Arms up again, sweetie.”

I did so.

“Such a good little girl, following directions. Are you a good girl?”

I nodded. I didn’t even think about it - I just did it. And when she smiled, I felt good to be satisfying her.

She’s good.

Something else was being pulled over my head. It was a sleeveless dress, and as the hem of it fell as far as it would go, I realized that it just barely covered my diaper. It was a white dress, with a pattern of alternating red, pink and baby blue colored berries, while a large pink silk bow jutted out from the center of the dress.

“Now isn’t that just the most darling thing, Baby? Oh gosh. I could just eat you right up.”

I bashfully looked away from her. No part of her tone or mannerisms felt fake or like acting. If this wasn’t genuine, then she was even better at her job than I thought. At this moment, I felt like I was the most important thing in the world to her, and to my surprise, I didn’t want that feeling to go away.

She stood behind me and ran her fingers through my hair. Nobody had done this to me in years. I wished - I think I had even asked - for Neil to do this, though he never did. I was melting in her hands. After a few minutes of her slowly touching nearly every strand of my hair - even giving it the slightest of playful tugs every now and then - she parted my hair on either side of my face before binding off the divided sections. I had pigtails now.

“Unbelievable,” she said clutching her chest with both hands as she smiled at her handiwork. “Just an absolute doll. May I keep you? Would you like to be my little dolly?”

I giggled, burying my face in my hands.

“Now now, don’t be bashful. You should be very proud of how adorable you are. Many other babies would be very jealous of you.” She paused, then added in a slightly lower tone: “Many other babies would be jealous of how cute I think you are.”

She walked to a cabinet, near the well-stocked diaper shelf, and rummaged through some items there before returning.

Like an artist, she stood before me with a makeup palette in her left hand and a brush in her right. She firmly dabbed the brush into the makeup, aggressively coating it with a thick layer of powder, before bringing it to my face, dabbing the brush onto my cheeks. I saw the pink dust heading towards me, and I just knew that my cheeks were now coated in a permanent blush.

“Oh. Oh my,” she said, giggling herself. “I’ve really outdone myself this time. Are you sure that you want to be a mommy? With a look like this, you were positively made to be a baby.”

A funny thing happened. I don’t want to say that it was at exactly that moment - but it seemed close enough that it’d be hard not to assume that the way she fawned over my cute infantile appearance didn’t have anything to do with it. I suddenly “got” the pacifier. It just clicked. I didn’t have to just hold it in my mouth, or bite at it. I could simply suck on it. I liked it.

Fuck me, I thought. I liked everything.

“I want those diapers filled, missy. I’m giving you an hour.”

I wanted to ask her questions. Filled...with what? And what would happen in an hour?

“I’ve got a few small matters to attend to,” she said. She leaned forward, her buxom chest peeking from the top of her dress while her face came incredibly close to mine. “Can you be trusted to be a good little girl while I’m gone?”

I wasn’t even sure what sort of trouble I could get in if I wanted to. I slowly nodded, my pacifier sucking becoming more unconscious and automatic.

“I hope so. There’s toys in that chest over there, should you get bored. Then, when I come back, I’ll check your diaper and see if you need a change. And...if you don’t...well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

I nodded again.

“Good girl. You really wish to keep Mommy happy, don’t you?”

Not that she could tell anymore, with my cheeks all done-up as they were, but I felt my face just radiating embarrassment. At one point I had debated asking her what she wanted to be called. I would’ve called her by her name. Or Mistress. Madame, even. But Mommy? It felt like a lot. It also felt perfect.

“You work on that diaper of yours, Baby. I’ll be back in an hour.”

When she had walked out of the room, I grabbed the pacifier out of my mouth and held it at my side as I looked around the room again. I could see Neil in that crib. Or on that changing table. I could see him on the ground, playing with the toys.

I had this consistent worry - sometimes it was louder and stronger than other times - that I’d do all this work to please him and to show him that I loved him, only to realize that I hated doing it all. I feared that more than him just rejecting my efforts altogether. What if, at the end of the day, I just hated this?

I slid the pacifier back into my mouth.

A new worry was developing: What if I really was just better off being a baby?

Lesson Three: Keeping Them Wanting

I have had boyfriends who sprung things on me long after they should’ve been open about them. For example, I once dated someone who waited an entire year to tell me they were married.

Neil had been different in that he wore his heart on his sleeve most times. It was what I liked most about him, honestly. He wasn’t the most confident man in the world, but he always made it clear what he was feeling. Early in our relationship, I mistakenly perceived it as oversharing, but over time, I came to realize that it was just someone communicating their needs - a welcome change of pace in relationships I had before that.

One day, seemingly at random, he just sat down next to me and told me that he had a diaper fetish. He wanted to be treated like a baby. He loved feeling submissive and humiliated.

It was a lot to take in at once, and out of nowhere, I had a vague idea about the existence of diaper fetishes and that sort of thing, but it just never seemed very relevant to my life. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I handled it well. I became closed off for a while, and sought some distance from him.

But whereas he saw it as a rejection of him as a person, and his interests and needs - it was really about me. In my isolation, the real question I hoped to answer was about how I could give him what he needed. And what would happen if I couldn’t.

Finally, I made it clear that I was willing and ready to try anything. If it was important to him, then I wouldn’t ever just dismiss it. He should be allowed to experience the things that he wanted to, without fear of judgment, especially in his own house.

We started slowly, and mostly at my urging. I’d encourage him to wear a diaper in front of me, or to at least wear one to bed. While he was thankful for the space to explore this side of him freely, it always felt kind of awkward and stilted. I knew he wanted more. I wasn’t sure what “more” was, but I did my best to figure it out.

I slowly began to piece together what he was looking for. It wasn’t just that he wanted to wear infantile things or to act like a baby - he wanted to be forced to do those things. Despite it being what he wanted - he wanted it to feel like a punishment. He wanted to be humiliated by it.

I struggled with this - not because I was morally opposed to it, but because I just didn’t know how to be that person myself. If anything, reflecting on my own desires to be manhandled a little, it was a challenge to treat him the way that I wish I could be treated once in a while. Maybe not exactly like it, but the end goals weren’t that far off.

However, I felt like I never even got the chance to explore that angle. Somewhere between my efforts to learn about how to be a more dominant-type woman in the bedroom, and my working up the courage to ask him to give me that chance, he revealed that he had other plans.

He didn’t come out and tell me what he was doing - I had to find out about it myself. A decent amount of money had been taken from our joint checking account one day. He didn’t bring it up, and I was afraid to ask what it was for. We never told each other how to spend our money before, and it’s not like he left us destitute. It was just something he hadn’t done before. It triggered a reg flag in my mind, but I had been willing to let it go.

Not long after, he told me that he was going away for a weekend; he was invited to spend a weekend at his friend Leon’s cabin for a weekend of “boys being boys.” I had absolutely no suspicions about it until after he was gone and I found myself pondering the missing money again. A quick search on Facebook had revealed that Leon and his family were enjoying a nice weekend at Grandma’s.

This seemed completely at odds with the Neil that I knew and who I fell in love with. Worse, I wondered if he thought I was so stupid that I wouldn’t ever put it together.

I waited for him to come home from his supposed weekend retreat and we had it out. He did, eventually, come clean. He saw a professional “Mommy.” It had been something he wanted to do for a while. No, he was clear that it had been something he needed to do. He wanted to do it again. With, or without, my approval.

I had felt backed into a corner. Of course I wanted him to do the things that made him happy. And if seeing this professional had brought him some amount of joy that he wasn’t getting anywhere else, who was I to stand in the way? But he lied to me.

There was another fracture in our relationship that was caused that day. I had gone out of my way to make him feel comfortable. I was willing to give him even more - at a small sacrifice of some of my own desires. Yet he still ran to someone else instead. It felt like a betrayal. It felt like a dismissal of my skills - or even my potential.

And that’s kind of where we left things. We never really recovered or found our footing in the relationship. We were friendly to each other, most days, but any remnants of romance were gone. I’d watch for the withdrawals from our bank account and I’d know when he needed a “weekend away.” The weekends I’d be sure to spend sitting around, drinking wine, wondering why I hadn’t been enough.

And yet.

And yet.

There I was, sitting on the floor of the nursery in Averie’s house. Averie, who had certainly gotten enough of our money already, thanks to Neil. I wondered if we were solely responsible for this custom adult-sized crib. She could’ve at least given us a plaque.

I was wearing the diaper now. I was wearing a onesie and a pathetic little dress. Knee-high cat socks. Hair in pigtails. I was sitting on the ground surrounded by toys.

My intentions were kind of blurry to me now. I thought I knew what I wanted when I came here, but now I wasn’t so sure. I believed Averie when she told me that I’d learn how to be a good Mommy by being a good baby. But now I wasn’t so sure that I wanted anything other than being that good baby.

I wished Neil could see me now. I wanted him to be jealous of what I was experiencing.

I had no way to tell time in the nursery. I wasn’t sure how long Averie had been gone, and I wasn’t sure when she was coming back. She expected me to be wearing a used diaper when she did, though, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. There had been some sort of vague threat about making me use the diaper if I hadn’t used it myself. I was curious - but maybe that was a mystery best left for another day.

It had been a while since I last used a restroom. Using a diaper wouldn’t be a matter of whether or not I had to go, it would be a matter of if I could bring myself to go. I tried a few different positions in my efforts to find which seemed like the most comfortable. Sitting. Kneeling. Standing.

Squatting felt particularly…”age” appropriate. I almost couldn’t bring myself to stay in that position for too long. I went back to sitting down again, thought better of it, and then started squatting again.

It was easy. Too easy, honestly. I was positive that I’d end up feeling pee-shy - that same anxiety I felt in a public restroom when someone sat in the stall next to me. Yet here, with a minimal amount of effort, I was able to just...go.

I had no post-toddler experience with wetting my pants. Even at my most drunk I always maintained a level of control. I always assumed that was a good thing, though now… Now, as I felt my warm piss flood the diaper between my legs, my first instinct was to think: I wish I had experienced this sooner in my life.

It felt dirty and shameful and all those things that my parents and teachers and society told me that wetting your pants would be growing up. And I fucking loved it. I loved feeling the diaper get heavier as it swelled. I loved feeling it get warmer. The way that it felt so squishy.

I remained where I was, squatting above the ground, and I ran my hands over my diaper. I’d take turns running a hand between the front of my legs and then reaching behind my back to feel the other side.

I plopped down onto my bottom, feeling my diaper squish beneath me as I sat upon it. I wondered if I’d get in trouble for pulling up my dress, unsnapping the bottom of the onesie and slipping a hand into my diaper. Probably. But that was also part of what she did as a Mommy - dealt with naughty inevitabilities like this.

There you go, I thought. Another lesson.

I stood up again and slowly toddled around the room, getting a feel for how I walked while in a soaking wet diaper. Slowly, as it turned out; not so much as a walk as it was a humiliating waddle. There, in the full length mirror mounted on the back of the nursery door, I finally got to see myself. The dress had, predictably, done nothing to conceal my bloated bottom, while my bright pink cheeks and haphazardly pig-tailed hair made me look like some child’s plaything.

I kind of liked it. I suckled on the pacifier, feeling a warmth throughout my body. It wasn’t my pissy diaper - well, it was, but it was also this sense of finally having done something for myself. Accidentally, maybe, while trying to do something for Neil - but at the end of the day I’d consider this a win for me.

I patiently waited for Averie to return. Averie? Or Mommy? I wondered what Neil called her.

And when I got sick of sitting, mostly motionless, in my soggy diaper, I decided to practice being a baby. Like any good student would. I crawled about on the floor. I picked up a few of the various baby toys - rattles and thick colorful plastic things that made assorted noises - and shook them around. I went back and forth from sucking on the pacifier to sucking on my thumb. I even, after listening closely to make sure she wasn’t around, practiced my babbling baby talk.

“You’ve been a busy baby, I see,” a voice behind me finally said, just after I had sat back down in my soggy diaper again.

I shot her a surprised look. Had she known what I was doing? Or did she just guess? But then she pointed to the small plastic pod mounted on a small tripod on top of the diaper shelf. A camera. Of course.

“Don’t be bashful about it, cupcake. It made me very happy that you cared so much to explore it a little. You like it, I think?”

I nodded.

“I thought so. And what about your diaper? Did you do as I asked?”

I nodded again. A slower nod. I immediately proceeded to look down towards the floor shamefully.

“Come here, baby. Let me check your diaper.”

I didn’t need to be told that I had to crawl to her. Once again, I saw a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes behind the stoic expression. She held out a hand to stop me. I stayed where I was, on my hands and knees before her, as she walked around to my backside. Her hand was on my bottom, giving my diaper a squeeze through the onesie. She lifted my dress up and popped the buttons on the bottom of the onesie, lifting the backside of that up as well. I felt her pull the back of my diaper away from my back. She even lowered a hand carefully into the diaper to have a better feel. I loved it. I loved all of it. I loved feeling this way and I loved having her hand on me; in my diaper.

“That wasn’t too challenging, was it?” she asked.

I shook my head, still facing straight ahead - away from where she stood.

“Do you think I should change your diaper? Do you think that you’ve earned that?”

I nodded. I had, after all, been a good girl, right? I had done everything she said. I’ve already begun to feel myself fall deeper into this role than I expected to. Did that not count for anything?

“Ah, such a naive little baby,” she said, giving my diapered bottom a playful swat. To my surprise, she began to pull the onesie back down again, snapping it closed over my diaper. She pulled my dress back down as far as it could go - ultimately leaving me in the position I was in just before she checked my diaper.

Was she not going to change my diaper, then? I was confused and the tiniest bit hurt.

“I dislike giving babies exactly what they want. At least right away. They’ll eventually get what they want - they wouldn’t keep coming back if they didn’t. But not until I’m ready. And right now, I’m not ready.”

My heart beat a little faster as she walked back in front of me. I looked up at her, feeling a little pathetic. By her design, I was sure.

“I bet you’re wondering when you’re going to get that diaper changed then, yes?”

I nodded.

“Give me some babytalk,” she said. “I want to hear you talk like a little baby again.”

I sighed, my heart beating even faster. I had just been practicing this. For her, no less. I slid the pacifier out of my mouth, carefully balancing myself on my other hand.

“Gah...gah ba moo...nu…”

“My goodness, cupcake, you’re a natural!”

I smiled, sliding the pacifier back into my mouth.

“You think I’m kidding, but I ask all the little boys who come to see me to talk like a baby, and they’re terrible at it. Just dreadful. But you! You’re trying, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“A mommy can tell.” She paused for a second before adding: “In fact, I think that deserves a reward. I’d say Baby has just learned her first word.”

I tilted my head with curiosity.

“Mommy,” she said. “You may call me Mommy. It’s the only word you may say besides your little baby babbling.”

I nodded. It was such a small thing; it was barely a reward at all. It felt humiliating for her to give me the “privilege” of just saying her title; a self-given title at that. Yet I felt this warmth within me. I had earned something. I had impressed her. It made me so so happy to please her.

“Maybe you should try it out?”

I pulled the pacifier from my mouth again. It was such a simple word, and an almost meaningless one for me in any other context. But now, when it was the only word I had, and one that only served to reiterate my new dependence on her, it felt like the hardest word I ever had to say. “M...mo…”

“Go on,” she coached. “You can do it.” She sounded it out like a mother would do with a real infant. “MAH-MEE. Mommy! It’s very easy. Now you try.”

“Mommy…”

“Oh very very good.” She leaned forward, kissing me on the forehead. It still felt condescending. It still drove me wild.

“Mommy,” I said again, before realizing that there really wasn’t anything else I could say.

“Yes, little shortcake?”

“Uhm…” I shook my head.

“You’re wondering about that diaper, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Do you know what the babies who come to visit me like to do? It may just be one of the most popular things.”

I had lots of guesses. Getting her hand across their asses? Getting fed bottles? Diaper changes?”

“They like to make big messes in their diapers. They absolutely love it.”

I wasn’t blushing this time - instead I felt as if all the color from my face - underneath the makeup of course - had drained away.

“I don’t know what it is, honestly,” she continued. “Well...no, that’s not true. I think many see it as the ultimate humiliation. Defecating oneself in a diaper, my my. That is quite...spicy, yes? And in the presence of a beautiful woman? Oh gosh. That must get all the nerves just positively fired up. They love it. They adore it. They’re begging me to do it. You’ve never heard anything like it. Big babies, begging you to make a poop in their diaper.”

I swallowed. I didn’t like where this was going.

“Can I tell you? It's never once bothered me. It's never made me sick. It still pleases me to no end. These little babies, practically tripping over themselves because they want to fill their diapers for me. It’s their safe space here, their safest space in some cases. They could have anything they want - but all they really want to do is make their diapers stinky for Mommy. It warms my heart.” She paused, looking back into my eyes. “Oh...I’m rambling, Baby. Let’s talk about you.”

She didn’t have to say anything else. I’d almost rather she didn’t. I wasn’t sure I could bear hearing her ask me to do what I think she would.

“If it were up to you,” she said, “you’d hold it all weekend and go home to your potty and take care of your business there. I suppose that wouldn’t be hard to do; you’re only here for the weekend. But what would you have learned? Let’s break the seal, then. Either you go ahead and make your diaper even dirtier for Mommy, or I take matters into my own hands. Which will it be?”

I didn’t want to just refuse. Well, part of me did. But I wouldn’t. So I started thinking about the two options. I didn’t know what “taking it into her own hands” meant. But...I was pretty sure that I was never going to be able to just go on my own. We could be waiting for the rest of the weekend for something that would never come.

“M-mommy?” I asked. I had no way to actually ask what I wanted to ask.

“Yes dumpling?”

“Uhm...uh…”

“Do you want Mommy’s help?”

I nodded.

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.

Lesson Five: Changing the Baby

I had changed Neil’s diaper a few times, an experience that I always found to be frustrating and ultimately unsatisfying for either of us. Early in our days of experimenting with his kinks - back when he actually wanted to - he was simply excited to be laying in front of me, a woman, as his wet diaper was opened and a damp wipe was rubbed over his skin. I had little actual experience changing diapers in my life, and so most of what I did was just based on the memories of videos he sent me.

Every diaper change seemed to be less fulfilling for him, which in turn brought me down a little too. As far as I could tell, I was doing everything right. I was even trying to expand my repertoire a little - attempting to talk down to him, and mocking his wet diapers. It seemed to make little difference. Perhaps I wasn’t authentic enough. Or maybe he just had a completely different scenario in his mind - one that I’d never be able to provide.

One night, as he wet himself while we laid next to each other, I offered to change his diaper - an offer that once instilled him a boyish level of excitement. But this time, he just shrugged and told me not to worry about it; he’d take care of it himself.

“Some little babies like to be left in their dirty diapers for a bit,” Averie said, bouncing her knees a little to further smear the contents of my diaper about. “They want to stew in their own filth.”

I sighed, hoping that wasn’t the fate she had in mind for me.

“Of course,” she continued, “I don’t like to give some babies a choice in the matter. Your husband - little Baby Nelly - it brought me great pleasure to leave him marinating for a while. He was not a fan of that, I don’t think.”

He wasn’t, as I recalled reading from his little essays. But that was the point for him. While he may have hated it in the moment, he spent a lot of time thinking about it after the fact. “Thinking.”

“How about you, Baby?” she cooed. “Do you think you’d like to have your diaper changed? Or would you rather stay in this stinky thing?”

It hadn’t taken long for the smell of my diaper to smack me in the face after I had gone and messed myself. There was no side-stepping the truth - I smelled bad. Yet, I found myself more concerned about offending Averie with my foul diaper than I was with just smelling gross myself. It was poop - I knew what to expect. Sure, there was more of it - and it was entirely contained within my pants - but it wasn’t disgusted with it.

I shook my head. While I may have been a little more comfortable in this diaper than I anticipated, I didn’t want it to overstay its welcome.

“I didn’t think so. We’ll have to go back to the nursery, of course.”

True to my word - and per her request - I had once again ceased using my big girl words once I had messed my diaper. It was for the best, as I wasn’t even sure what I would’ve said. Besides, should someone who just used their diaper like that even be allowed to talk like an adult?

I made a mental note to remember that question for later.

I eased myself back to the ground. My diaper sagged and drooped more than it had before when it was just wet, yet not as much as I thought it would. It was easy to determine why, of course - most of the back of the diaper was plastered to my ass, a layer of my own filth keeping the two together.

Without needing to be told, I got onto my hands and knees so that I could crawl.

I found myself constantly looking to her face. Every five seconds, whether it was on her lap, on the ground, or while she dressed me earlier, I felt like I was checking to see what her reaction was. And every single time I had seen nothing but a content smile of varying degrees. Yet, this consistency didn’t ease my worries at any point. If anything, it made them worse. I kept checking to see if this was the moment where she was disappointed.

No disappointment right now. I let out a sigh of relief. I’d be good for another few seconds.

“Such a good little girl, aren’t you? Look at you, all ready to crawl up those stairs again.”

Without warning, she delivered a firm slap to the backside of my diaper. The densely filled diaper offered little give and the loud sound reverberated through the room. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t have to.

“That wasn’t a punishment of any sort,” she said. “You would know if it was. I’m simply having fun.” She gave my diaper another windmill swat, causing me to yelp a little.

I was crawling up the stairs again, with her walking behind me. With every step, I felt vulnerable and on display. My dirty bottom, while covered in the onesie and dress - barely - was jutting out and it felt like it was directly in her face. She’d occasionally feel it with her hands, running them along the bulge of the diaper, admiring the little lumps of my mess that weren’t completely obliterated into dark corners of the garment.

“Such a stinky stinky little girl,” she said at one point. “For such an adorable little bean, you may just have one of the absolute most toxic rear ends.”

I let out a little gasp. It was the closest she had come to actually making me feel bad about what we were doing here.

“But to be clear,” she added - likely noting my worry, “I like that. It’s yet another thing that makes you special and unique.”

Had she really just made me feel good about myself by talking about how smelly my shit was? It appeared so.

“I think we should take off your pretty dress,” she said as we entered the nursery. “Just to be safe. I wouldn’t want to get it dirty now, would you?”

I shook my head.

She took my hand and helped me to stand up on my feet again. She slipped my pacifier back into my mouth - I wondered if I had dropped it earlier, before she had taken me downstairs with her. Then, she worked the dress back over my head, leaving me in just the onesie, diaper and socks.

“Oh…” she said from behind me. “Oh my.”

My eyes widened and my heart started to beat faster. It sounded like genuine concern.

“Wh-what is it?” I said, breaking my vow to not be using my big girl words.

“My little muffin...I’m sorry to say, but it looks as if there’s been a bit of a blowout back here.”

I couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying. It sounded bad, but I was also imagining my diaper having exploded. Maybe it might as well have.

“This onesie is…” she pondered it for a moment, “...salvageable, maybe. It’ll need to go through the wash once or thrice.”

Had I pooped so much that I had somehow overflowed the diaper?

“What happened?” I asked.

“Oh...it’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “These things sometimes happen. Big loads, plus laps and playful mommy-slaps and...well we’ve had some escape out the top of the diaper in the back. It’s...a bit frightful. Your poor onesie got the brunt of it.”

I felt mortified. It was often easy to disconnect from how these things might have looked to anyone else without context, but I couldn’t do that here. I had literal shit pouring out of my pants, to the point where it ruined my clothing. Worse, Averie, still a new presence in my life, had just watched me make this mess as I literally sat in her lap. She could say it was nothing to worry about all she wanted, but...I was going to worry about it.

She carefully and methodically pulled the onesie up and off me, having me raise my arms so she could fully slip it off. She had been careful to pull the tainted fabric as far away from my skin as she could to minimize any further contact with it. I couldn’t get over how nonchalantly she treated the situation. She had done this before.

She drew a baby wipe from the changing table, giving my lower back a thorough polish to remove the escapees.

“I’m more concerned about you making my changing table filthy than I am your back being clean,” she said. I sensed she was teasing, but I couldn’t be sure. “I’m tempted to draw you a bath, but perhaps that can wait. Now then, let’s get you up on the table.”

Getting onto the table was easy. Lowering my mucky all the way down onto the padded surface was a challenge. I could just imagine putting my weight down on the diaper, only for more of my mess to ooze out like a toothpaste tube.

“Why don’t you let me worry about your situation,” Averie finally said, pressing the front of my diaper down so that I was now laying flat on the table. I felt the insides of my diaper shift around, but I had no idea if it had become another disaster or not.

She seemed to have no distress on her face whatsoever. I kept looking to her face - making sure she was okay. She looked content. At ease. Happy, even. It made me feel at ease myself.

“You’re such a stinky little girl, aren’t you?”

My head twitched slightly, resembling a nod.

“I know you’re not supposed to be speaking. But Mommy would like to hear you tell her what a smelly little girl you are.”

“I...I’m…”

“Go on. I know you can do it, just as I’m sure you want to. Let’s hear it.”

“I’m...just a...stinky…”

“Yes?”

I wasn’t stumbling over the words because they were hard to say. It was because I wasn’t sure how I wanted to say it. But the words came to me.

“I’m Mommy’s smelly little girl.” I could barely get the words out of my mouth before I started laughing. I couldn’t believe I had said such a ridiculous thing. Averie was laughing too - though likely only because she was laughing at me.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

A little shrug.

“Unfasten the top tapes first,” she said, dictating her actions as she finally went about tackling the ecological disaster between my legs. “Followed by the bottom tapes. The opposite order of how you’d fasten on a new diaper.”

She pulled the front of the diaper open. Judging by the way her eyes grew when she opened the diaper, I had a feeling it was worse than she even anticipated. I felt my heart flutter. Was I really that disgusting?

“You need to survey the damage,” she said. “I’ve learned that this isn’t as much for myself, the mommy, as it is for the baby. Did you see what I did there? How I looked almost shocked and appalled? I bet you felt like you were such a gross little baby, yes?”

I nodded.

“Babies love that. I don’t care if they just did a little tinkle or they committed a war crime in their diaper. I always make it into a show.”

I let out a little sigh of relief. It was another lesson I was thankful to learn - though, more importantly, it had made me feel better about my own situation.

“But, Dumping, I’m sorry to say it - but your bottom is a war crime. There will be casualties and a monument erected in their honor. Seriously - this is one of the filthiest diapers I’ve ever seen.”

My heart sank. It plummeted deep into the changing table below me and then into the ground beneath Averie’s house.

Baby wipes in hand, she got to work in cleaning me. Her soft hands guided the damp cloth over my skin. I couldn’t see how far my mess had reached, and so I trusted her fingers to clean what needed to be cleaned.

Yet...despite the fact that I was laying on my still-destroyed diaper, her fingertips seemed to be taking their time in cleaning my vagina. And then she reached my clit.

I had never been touched like that before. Never. Not by Neil. Not by any other man. I wasn’t even sure that I had even touched myself like she did at that moment. I let a moan escape my lips, but it was more than a moan; it was almost like a howl.

“Oh, do you like that?”

I offered only a moan in response, my mouth hanging open after the sound had dissipated.

“I’m just trying to clean your dirty little bottom,” she said, feigning innocence. “One has to be thorough.”

She wasn’t cleaning. She knew exactly what she was doing. The wipe had been slipped out from between me and her fingertips. She pressed into me with her hand as she rotated her fingertips on me.

“Oh...ohhhh….ohh…”

“Is this something you like, Dumpling? Do you enjoy when Mommy presses your little button in the middle of a diaper change?”

“Uhhohh…. Yes...Mommy...”

“Does it make it better or worse knowing that you’re getting pleasured by Mommy while you remain mostly in your absolutely disgusting diaper?”

I could only offer more moans. Hopefully positive sounding ones.

“So you think I should keep doing this?”

“Y-yes…”

“I’m not sure. I think that’s enough for now. Let’s get back to dealing with your diaper.”

“No!” I yelped. “Please! Mommy…”

“Yes? What would you like?”

“I...I need more.”

“More?”

“Rub me, Mommy. Please?”

She had created a monster. An insatiable monster who had gotten the taste of something that she had always thought existed but never experienced.

“Really? Now? When you’re so stinky and dirty?”

“Mommy, please!”

“Or, is that exactly the point,” she pondered aloud. “Is it that you’re getting off on being so disgusting?”

“Yes!” I spat out; a mix of desperation and humiliation.

“I’m sorry - ‘Yes’ to what? Just so we’re clear and on the same page.”

“I...I...want you to touch me like that. While I...uhm...lie here in my dirty diaper.”

Those were the magic words. She stared into my eyes as her fingers danced on my clit. She was absolutely magical. She had me moaning. I was practically braying like a horse. And finally, with a final screeching groan, she brought me to a climax.

I gasped and wheezed for a few minutes before feeling almost all of the energy that I had left seeping from my body. I just lay there, like a giant limp doll.

From the very second that I had came, Averie moved on. No sooner than I had felt myself finally ease off my gyrating on her fingers, the wipes were in her hand again as she went back to cleaning me.

“You have to be thorough when cleaning a baby,” she said, as if nothing had even happened. I was barely paying attention. “Especially after a particularly heavy load like this one. Never worry about the number of wipes you need to clean a dirty bottom, either. After all, your babies are the ones paying for them.”

She lifted my legs straight into the air like it wasn’t any trouble at all, removing the diaper. I couldn’t even watch her anymore; my eyes were glazing over. She had completely exhausted me.

“It’s a lot to juggle at once,” she said. Was she still talking? “You need to thoroughly clean the baby's bottom before you can put a new diaper down underneath them. And, as once you’ve got that yucky dirty diaper in your hand, you’re going to want to roll it up and toss it into the diaper bin as soon as you can.”

My head was throbbing. It wasn’t a headache - more a euphoric haze. It was too much, all at once.

“Now, let’s get this new diaper on you,” she said. “And, as I’ll be applying this one myself, you can be assured that it’ll be much snugger and fitting than the last one. But first - baby powder is an absolute must.”

I felt myself fading further. My eyelids were getting heavier. I could still hear her talking, but she was getting further and further away from me.

“...and...little diapers...if you really want to...only because…”

The world faded away altogether as a blissful fog enveloped me.

I had the loveliest dream. Averie - Mommy - was carrying me around as if I was a baby. Poor little Neil was stuck in a dog crate. He was crying for someone to let him out. He was so jealous that Mommy liked me more.

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.

Lesson Seven: Overcoming Obstacles

“Where are you?” he asked. I knew his tone well enough to know when he was concerned and when he was curious. Right now, he was just curious.

“A friend’s,” I said.

“But you don’t have any…” His voice trailed off, realizing that maybe that wasn’t the best tactic for this conversation. He tried again: “Which friend?”

“You don’t know her,” I said. A blatant lie, but there was no way that this was the time and place to tell him the truth. “But I’m staying the weekend.”

“Her?” he asked. He sounded skeptical. Suspicious.

“Okay, let me ask you then: Where are you?”

“Home.”

“And at what point did you notice I wasn’t there?”

“It’s...uh…”

“Right. I’m surprised you called me at all,” I hissed.

“When will you be home?”

“Tonight. Will you be home?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

The conversation was as productive as I thought it would be. I was hesitant to look at my phone at all, but I thought I’d check, just in case there had been some sort of emergency. I had two missed calls from Neil. No voicemails. No text messages. The second call was what had woken me up, and I had to really stretch my arms through the bars of the crib to even grasp the phone from the small table it was sitting on.

He had no idea. He didn’t know I was at Averie’s, or in a diaper. He didn’t know that I had called him back from within a crib. Probably the same crib he had spent some time in himself.

I was tempted to say that I had reached an epiphany in that moment. Yet the more I mulled it over, the more it seemed like it felt like I had already reached this conclusion some time ago, and was only now just admitting it to myself.

Neil hadn’t been a good partner. If he was a decent person, it’d probably take someone else to see that side of him.

Maybe he thought the same thing about me.

So...what the hell was I doing here, again?

My body was waking up, and I was shaking off the mild dose of adrenaline triggered by getting flustered with Neil on the phone. Oh yeah...hangovers…

I had a vague thought about needing a face-diaper in case I threw up - I wasn’t sure if I was making a joke or not.

I scanned the room from the crib, feeling like I was taking in everything again for the first time. The changing table. So many diapers. The highchair.

It was fun while it lasted, but I thought that I might be over it in the light of morning. My marriage sucked. I drank too much. I was a long drive away from home. Whatever it was I was thinking when I showed up yesterday, that seemed to be a different person.

I debated for a while what my next move would be. Maybe I’d play along for a little longer, feigning interest until an opportunity presented itself where I could say “Thanks, but no thanks. Gotta go!” Or, perhaps I’d just tell her the truth. She deserved that much. I’d just tell her that I really enjoyed her company - and her attention - but I had made a big mistake. This wasn’t the time for me to be having these adventures. And, now, to what ends did any of it matter?

“Can I interest any babies in some breakfast?” Her saccharine sweet voice echoed down the hallway. Looking at her face when she entered the nursery, I could barely believe how composed she looked. Either she had made a pact with some unearthly being to avoid the hangover I was feeling, or she could power through it like a champ. How the hell did she manage to look so beautiful?

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn’t know what to say.

“Feeling a little less-than today?” she asked, sliding open the crib door. “Did Mommy let you drink too much big-girl juice last night?”

“How...are you…?”

“Lots of practice,” she said with a wink. “I brought you a baba, would you like that?”

Her exuberance, and willingness to just immediately throw herself back into the role of Mommy caught me off guard. Even more impressive, it was working. Her tone had the right amount of condescension to leave me feeling a little smaller than wearing a diaper in a crib already had.

“Uhm...I...I think that maybe…”

“Oh, of course. Silly me.” She set the bottle down on the table. I had to assume it was milk in the bottle, though I could never be too sure with her. “Here I am asking you about breakfast, but you’re probably wondering about getting your diaper changed, yes?”

“Oh...I, uh…”

I hadn’t used the diaper yet. I could’ve if I wanted to. After everything I drank the night before, on top of my body’s usual routine, had my bladder roaring at me.

“Come now. Let me check your diaper, Dumpling. If it’s wet, we’ll take care of that for you.” She sniffed the air in a rather obvious way. “I mean, I have to assume it’d just be wet. I think I’d know if you made another stinky diaper like yesterday’s.”

“It’s not wet,” I said.

She sighed and nodded, seeming to sense that something was off. I watched her eyes pull to my phone, still in my hand. “Everything okay?”

“The day just hasn’t been off to a great start,” I said.

“I see,” she said, nodding. “A phone call?”

“I called him. Not that it matters.”

“He...called me this morning too,” she said.

I took a sharp breath in. Had he actually known where I was? But, how could that be? I was careful not to have left any trail.

“He wanted to make an appointment,” she added. A let out a little sigh of relief. “He actually...wanted to see if I was available today. Perhaps he saw an opportunity with having the day all to himself.”

“What...what did you say?”

“He just left a message. I’ve never once, in the time I’ve been doing this, taken an appointment on the same day. He should’ve known better. I’ll get to him when I get to him.”

I didn’t think this would bother me, and I definitely didn’t want it to. But of course it would. He had made the bare minimum effort in seeing where I was, and now that he had done his job there, he was free to try and secure himself a little fun.

“I think I might go,” I finally said.

She nodded, offering a warm smile. “Of course. Whatever you think is best.”

“I just...I’m not sure I’ll be much fun here. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me this weekend. You’ve been so patient and so nice and…”

“I promise you, I understand if you have to go,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “I know you had a good time yesterday, and I did too. I’d be happy to revisit this in the future if you wanted to.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Would you like some space?”

I shrugged.

“I’m going to go downstairs for a little bit,” she said. “I put your clothes over there by the changing table. If you do need me, or just want to talk, say the word and I’ll be here.”

I didn’t actually want her to leave. Her company felt good. Her warmth felt comforting. Now, I was left alone with my thoughts again.

I did see my clothes, sitting in a nicely folded pile on the carpet near the base of the changing table. Just yesterday, I thought: I was on top of that thing while I got my diaper changed. My eyes shot over to the table where she had placed the bottle of milk. I took it, holding it in both hands while I held it up to my mouth. I had no recollection of ever drinking from a baby bottle before, and as I sipped the milk up through the nipple I quickly discovered the appeal.

I couldn’t stop myself, or at least I didn’t want to. I drank about half the bottle while I just sat there in the crib. For the last half, I layed back down while still clutching the bottle to my mouth. I needed this. Not the milk so much as the feeling of laying down while mindlessly suckling away at the bottle.

In the same three seconds it took to process the idea of wanting to wet my diaper, I did it. Feeling the diaper swell and grow warm between my legs as I drank from the bottle was so perfect that I actually began to feel tears well in my eyes before trickling down my cheeks.

I wished Mommy was here.

Upon finishing the bottle, I let it roll out of my hands into a corner of the crib. I had decided that I would need to find her myself. Taking a few steps towards the door, I shook my head and felt that if I was going to do this, I needed to do it right. I was back on my hands and knees. I crawled down the hallway. I carefully eased myself down her stairs. I crawled through the foyer and into the kitchen where she was making a pot of coffee.

“O-oh,” she said, stifling a little laugh. “I did not expect this.”

“Mommy? I…”

“Yes, pumpkin?”

“I...need my diaper changed.”

It had been as if there wasn’t any interruption in our little fantastical weekend. No late night drinking. No phone call. No doubt that threatened to derail it all. I was back to not speaking unless she gave me permission. Crawling everywhere. Following her every request and constantly looking to her face to make sure she was still pleased with me.

She was, still. Every time.

I was holding out hope that this diaper change would be like the day before. She’d take her time, spending an extra amount of time making me moan and groan like a desperate little girl on the changing table. She didn’t. It was thorough, but quick. I felt like a race car pulling off the race track for a pit stop in a race. Tapes unfastened, diaper pulled down, bottom wiped, diaper removed. She rolled up and tossed out the old diaper and slid a fresh one beneath me. Baby powder, diaper pulled up, tapes fastened.

I swear it took longer for me to piss in the diaper than it did for her to change it.

“Does this mean you’ll be staying today?” she asked as she pulled the onesie over the diaper to snap it closed again.

I nodded.

“Good. I’m adding a new rule for today: We won’t be speaking about your husband. Today is for you. It’s about you. Understand?”

I nodded again.

“Very good. Now then, let’s get you dressed. We’ve got some shopping to do.”

“Muh...thopping?” I asked, a pacifier still lodged in my mouth.

“Just a little errand, Dumpling. It won’t take long.”

“Buh...buh...mah diaperth…”

“I must say, you’re getting better and better at that baby talk. You’re sounding almost like a real toddler.”

The diapers and the onesie stayed on. She had me step into the jeans I wore to her house the day before, and then my bra. But it was a shirt of her own choosing - one from the nursery closet. A baby blue t-shirt whose hem just barely reached the waist of my jeans. It had little ruffles on the sides and on the sleeves, and there was a rainbow colored popsicle on the front of it. If it weren’t for the size, I’d have assumed this was for an actual little girl. And even then, the size couldn’t have been that much bigger.

“I’d prefer it if you left the pacifier in your mouth until we’ve reached the store, Princess. And I don’t think I have to tell you that you’ll still be expected to use your diapers - even while we’re out.”

I hesitantly nodded. These didn’t seem like complicated requests, but I was also missing context. Where were we going and why were we going there?

“Do I need to bring a diaper bag?”

I shrugged.

“If I don’t bring the diaper bag, you’re stuck wearing whatever you do in your diaper until we get home. But...if I bring it, we’ll have to find a place to change you. So? Which will it be?”

Having no diaper bag felt like the correct move. Even if it was a few hours, I could probably last without needing a diaper change. Even if I did end up just a little wet, that could probably wait.

On the other hand, if I was wrong, that’d be the worst thing to be wrong about.

“Bag,” I said. I didn’t like the idea of us toting around a bag that was just filled with more diapers and who-knows-what else. And maybe I could still last long enough that it didn’t matter. But I didn’t want to be in the worst case scenario.

“A wise choice,” she said, pulling a bag from the same closet. It looked like it had already been packed and ready to go. Either she saw this coming, or she always had a diaper bag at the ready. “But as I’ll be carrying my purse, I think you should carry it. Besides, little girls like to help their mommies, yes?”

It was a small backpack - maybe not much bigger than a child in kindergartens and it was shaped to look like a ladybug. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the nursery’s mirror, with my frilly popsicle shirt, ladybug backpack, the pigtails that were still left in my hair, and the pronounced bulge in my jeans where my diaper was, I realized that I was pretty much just dressed like a little girl. Sure, maybe it wouldn’t attract everyone’s attention - but it’d probably pull in a few curious eyes.

“Shall we go?” she asked.

“I was nervous. It was one thing to make a fool of myself in Averie’s home. But it was another to trot around the public in a diaper with my silly backpack.

Yet...I could feel it somewhere deep in the back of my mind. A little voice speaking up on behalf of my most private thoughts that were usually a little too timid to speak up. Excuse me...what if this was actually...a really good idea? Hot, even?

I nodded to Averie, and she smiled back.

“Very good. Let’s go.”

Lesson Eight: Going Out with Baby

Despite the fact that I was not only well aware of Neil’s kink, but that I also wanted to participate in it in any way, shape or form, he insisted on keeping a lot of that part of his life private. In almost every instance, he chose to act on his desires in secret. I’m sure there’s things that I may never know about. There’s no recording or history of them other than his memory - something he just won’t share with me.

I ran into a former colleague about a year ago, Nancy. We weren’t ever especially close, but we had at least always been on good terms. We ran into each other while grocery shopping one afternoon, and one of the first things she did was congratulate me. And...I had no idea what I had done to earn that. When I inquired, she told me that she had run into my husband a few months prior. Apparently they had also run into each other whilst at the same store.

She didn’t know him well - they had run into each other at a few work functions. But, apparently, looking at his face everyday on a picture on my desk had burned his face into her memory, and when she saw him with a shopping basket packed full of baby wipes and pacifiers, she assumed that we had a baby.

We hadn’t. I gently skirted around the subject, making up a story about a fictional sibling’s baby shower. She shrugged it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, but our encounter had lingered with me well after that afternoon. I imagined Neil galavanting across town, buying diapers or baby bottles, or whatever it was that he did. Maybe he was even wearing diapers in public. Maybe there was some sort of public humiliation aspect that I wasn’t even aware of.

A few months ago, I read a short blurb on a local news website about used adult diapers being found out along the side of one of the highways. For a few weeks in a row, someone was routinely dropping off their dirty diapers for someone else to clean up. The message from the township, and the local police, had been pretty simple: “Please stop.”

There were a lot of people in our little corner of the world. It could be anyone, and it could be for any reason. But there’s a part of me that wonders if Neil had anything to do with that. Was he disposing his diapers on the side of the road? I had hoped not. But, again, I felt like anything was possible.

Even during my weekend at Averie’s, I wondered what he was doing. Where he had been. Who he was doing it with.

“I have a car seat,” Averie said. “It’s pretty adorable, really. It’s very large and it tends to completely embarrass anyone who I have sat in it. Sadly, as this weekend is a bit of a last minute adventure, I didn’t have time to put it in the car. I suppose I should have you sit in the back seat. But, wouldn’t you know it, the back windows are tinted just enough that I doubt anyone could see you. What would be the fun in that? Don’t you think they should see your beautiful pig tails and your pacifier?”

I nodded.

She had reapplied the makeup, much to my dismay. My cheeks were a bright fuschia once more, and even my lips had a newfound rosy-ness to them. If the strangers we ran into in public didn’t think I was a baby, I’d be curious as to what they’d think I was. I looked like I was three going on 33, and it was almost more embarrassing than just going into public in just a onesie and diaper. At least then, I thought, people would know what they’re looking at.

Most of the drive was spent on the highway. I was thankful that we were rarely alongside another car for long enough to attract the attention of other motorists. Twice, as far as I knew, did my appearance seem to yield any sort of reaction. The first time was a truck driver, who looked down into my passenger seat of Averie’s SUV and shot me a quizzical tilted head before we passed him and left him in the dust. The second time was a young man - maybe in his late teens or early 20s, bumper stickers on his car that made references to things I never heard of. We drove alongside each other for a mile or so. In fact, I swore that Averie was controlling our speed so that he had some extra time to gawk. Over that mile, I saw his expression slowly morph from curious and confused to quite interested. I could practically see him drooling.

I felt a flutter in my gut as we left him behind on the highway. It would take a few miles for me to realize that I was just the slightest bit fond of the way he looked at me. It had made me a little wet, truth be told.

“I don’t want you to be scared,” she finally said to me after quite a few miles of silence. “A little humiliated, yes. But not so scared of being seen that you hide behind me.”

I nodded.

“You can take your pacifier out, Dumpling. Talk to me.”

“I...I’m okay,” I said.

“Have you ever done such a thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Gone out in public in a manner where you expect some attention?”

“Probably,” I said, staring out the window. That question sent me on a little trip down a memory hole.

“Oh? Care to elaborate?”

“I mean...I was young. As you were. I remember getting dressed up for a Friday or Saturday night, you know? I wasn’t exactly, like, ‘asking for it,’ but I was at least hoping to get a few eyes on me.”

She laughed and nodded.  “You’re a cute girl, as I’m sure you were then too. Did it work?”

“Sometimes.”

We shared a look. I’m not sure there was a word, barely even a simple description, for it. The look of two people who had seen some things. Good memories, bad memories, and memories better left unprocessed.

“Where are we going?” I asked finally. I didn’t want to ask. I had been trying my hardest to let her just do her thing. Yet, I felt like, somehow, I had earned at least an answer to that one question.

“Nowhere terribly exciting, I’m afraid. Just a few things for the house. But we’ll be sure to restock a few things for the nursery. And, really, it probably doesn’t matter where we go. You’re sure to get some heads turning.”

I thought about Neil and the mysteries of how he spent his free time. “Do you ever take babies...out? In public?”

“Quite often,” she said. “It’s a common request, really.”

“Has it ever, like, gone badly?”

Her head wobbled back and forth, as if she was debating with herself on the answer she wanted to give. “In most cases, I’d say that it was fine. When things don’t go well, it’s usually because a baby gets a little too excited and does things that defy better judgment.

“Oh?”

“We’ll just say that I’m no longer welcome in a particular location of a particular retail store following a situation where a baby in my care thought it’d be best to plant themselves on the floor of the baby toy aisle while babbling about their wet pampers to anyone who would listen.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to be a mommy to every baby,” she said. A lesson, I suppose, if I still cared about learning such things.

The big box store. It was the biggest of boxiest stores, and there I was, walking through the parking lot in my juvenile t-shirt, pig-tails, bright pink cheeks, diaper bulge, and ladybug backpack carrying more diapers. Could a larger target have been drawn on me?

She reached out and clutched my hand in hers, leading me through the busy parking lot.

To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what people’s reaction to my get-up was. People darted to and fro around us, yet nobody seemed particularly fixated on me. It was an interesting phenomenon - as if a crowd of people with their minds already dwelling on their own personal matters were incapable of stopping and seeing the strange abnormality right in front of them.

Occasionally some eyes would linger on me for a moment longer than they would have normally. Then there was a man who seemed to be following us for a few aisles, until he either went off on his own path, or realized that it was a little too obvious that he was following us. The entire time, Averie went about her business as if it was a normal day. She’d just casually place things in her shopping cart while I tried to stay close to her at all times, always conscious of what angles people could be looking at me from.

“Don’t dawdle,” she said to me at one point, as I strayed a little further than I meant to from her. “I’d like to keep you close by in case I need to check your diaper.”

There was no way that my face hadn’t turned a previously-undiscovered shade of deep red. There were at least five other people in the aisle, and their expressions seemed to range from completely unaware, to completely indifferent, to completely curious.

“I...but…”

“Would you like to have to use your pacifier while you’re in the store?”

I had no idea if this was a threat or just a question, but I could’ve dropped dead at that moment.

“Would you say you have a sensitive bottom?” she asked while in the baby aisle, picking up a pack of wipes. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a baby tell me that a normal baby wipe was too...abrasive? I’m not sure what ‘extra sensitive’ means in this context.”

“Tell me about it,” another woman chimed in. She seemed just oblivious enough to not have thought anything odd about Averie asking me about my bottom. “You see things like ‘extra sensitive’ wipes, or ‘cruiser’ diapers - whatever they are. And I had two kids before who never had things like that, you know? I feel like they’re creating answers for problems that nobody ever had.”

“It seems that way,” Averie said, laughing. She looked at me, a wry grin on her face, before looking back at the woman. “Do you care for a baby now?”

“Grandchildren,” the woman said. “A whole generation of things I don’t understand. I don’t know what a BPA is, and I’m not sure why I should care that  And you? Do you have children?”

“I watch over babies from time to time,” Averie said with a casual shrug.

“Bless your heart,” the woman said. “Aren’t they just the most precious thing? You almost don’t want to see them grow up.”

“You really don’t,” Averie replied. “I do my best to make sure they don’t.”

Both of them laughed, though I wondered if the woman even knew why she was laughing.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the woman said.

“Oh not at all. It’s always nice to feel like I’m not the only one in the world who doesn’t get all this,” Averie said.

The woman was only a few steps further away when Averie added: “See, Dumpling, we’ll just get you the normal wipes. I don’t think your bottom is that sensitive.”

I was terrified to look back and see if there was any reaction from the woman. We moved on from that aisle.

“Do I need to check your diaper?” she asked in a tone that was low, but certainly not low enough.

“I...no...I didn’t…”

“But would you tell me if you had?”

I sheepishly shrugged. I’d like to say the answer was yes, but I really wasn’t sure.

I was still feeling on edge - both from just being in the store in my current state and from our interaction with the stranger in a previous aisle - but somewhere under that near-constant embarrassment was excitement. I felt like I was starting to understand what people, Averie’s clients, liked about public humiliation.

She was taking her time. It felt like we were going up and down every aisle - even when there was nothing in the aisle she needed. If this was a game - she had to know that it wasn’t one she’d win. I had managed to go my entire life without pissing my pants in a store. It wasn’t likely that today, the one day I was in diapers, would be the day that I’d have such an accident.

But…

But, this did feel like an opportunity that she was giving me. I could imagine the other babies she took to the store - desperate little kinksters like Neil, who had spent years perfecting each and every fantasy - not wanting a chance like this to go to waste.

And what would they do? They’d wet their diapers. They might even do worse. They’d want to get a rise out of Mommy and see what she’d do. They both feared and wanted that reaction.

Goddamit, I did too.

One I knew what I wanted to do, it wasn’t that hard to get my body on board with the plan. I worried there’d be some sort of pee-shyness, but I could already feel my bladder ready and aching. It wanted to be released and was just waiting on the word.

Go. Let it all out.

It felt good, as it had before when I had wet my diapers. But this felt even better. Maybe because I was in public. I had a secret, and nobody knew what I was doing in my pants. Not even Averie. No doubt she would, sooner than later, know what happened. But for now? The knowledge was all mine.

I wondered if Averie noticed something before she said something. Could she see it in my face? The way my bottom swelled and grew firmer between my legs? Was it how I walked? Not long after I had flooded my diapers, I couldn’t help but notice that her expression had changed a little too. She looked smug.

A new game had started - who would say something about it first? Would I tell her that I had wet my diaper in the middle of the store? Or would she ask me if I had done that? Aisle after aisle she slowly pushed her cart. She’d make small talk here and there, but she remained eerily silent for the most part. Biding her time, I was sure.

I had almost forgotten how silly my outfit was, but then every once in a while someone would stare at me and I’d grow embarrassed and self-conscious all over again. Yes, I look like a little girl. And if you think that’s something, you oughta see what’s going on in my pants right now.

Now we were in the line for the checkout. Of the 15 or so registers that this store seemed to have, only four of them were open, and all of them had considerable lines. I was starting to get a little antsy. The diaper was obviously made to hold an “accident” like this, but for how long? At what point did I have to worry about something like a leak? Or worse...a smell?

“Dumpling?”

“Y-yes?”

“How is your diaper?”

Again, I felt my face turn scarlet. She said it so plainly that anyone could have heard it. In fact, the young couple ahead of us, both turned back to face us, perhaps curious to see who asked the question, and who the question was asked too. I could only imagine what they thought when they saw me: the supposed adult in pigtails, childish clothing and backpack. They turned back to face forward, whispering and muttering to each other.

“I...well…”

“Go on. You can tell Mommy.”

The guy in front of us wanted to turn around again. He almost had, but the woman held his wrist firmly. No, you can’t look again, her body language said. It’ll be too obvious.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” she asked.

Please don’t do this to me, I thought. But, then again, this is what I had kind of asked for.

“I...uhm...I’m wet.”

“You’re wet?”

“I...wet...my diaper.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, giving me a satisfied nod. “Was that so hard to admit?”

I shook my head, even if that was a lie.

I could’ve sworn that the couple ahead of us in line was laughing.

“I want you to do something for me,” she said to me.

I nodded, nervous of what she’d ask me to do.

“I want you to hold onto these things,” she said, grabbing a handful of things from the car and thrusting them into my arms. “You’ll purchase these items yourself, in a separate transaction.”

“But…”

“I will pay for everything. I just need to you hold these things for now.”

For a moment, I was completely baffled. Why separate transactions? Why would I carry these things when she had a cart in front of her that was perfectly capable of holding them?

All I had to do to answer that question, though, was to look down at the objects she gave me. Baby wipes. A package of bibs. More baby food. An enema. I don’t even remember her putting an enema in the cart.

I looked back to her in disbelief.

“These are business expenses, Dumpling. I have to charge them to my business card. You understand, don’t you?”

“But…” I didn’t even know what else to say. There I was - the weird baby-girl, holding her baby food and enemas.

It was our turn at the register. I quickly dropped all of the objects that Averie had handed me onto the conveyor belt where they were scanned by a young man. Todd, so said his name badge. As he picked up the first item, the bibs, he glanced at me, seeming perplexed. I watched the gears turning in his head as he tried to make heads or tails of what my style was; what I was supposed to be. He looked back down at the bib as he put them in the bag. Then the wipes - again glancing back to me again. Then the baby food, then he looked back to me again. Finally, the enema - seemingly the final piece of the puzzle.

“If you must know,” Averie chimed in - clearly aware of Todd’s questioning leer, “they are all, most definitely, for her.”

“Oh...what?” Todd replied, perhaps unprepared to have an actual answer just handed to him.

“I mean, just look at her. Does she not look like a little girl?”

“Uh, I mean…”

Meanwhile, I was petrified. I had died of embarrassment and had left my body behind. I was watching the scene play out from 10 feet above everyone else, while my physical body stayed rooted in the ground.

“Isn’t she pretty though? Go on...Todd, is it? Tell her how pretty she looks.”

“Uhm, well, uh-yeah, I mean, you do look pretty…”

I had to hand it to Averie. Yet again, she had proven that she was an absolute masterful puppetmaster. Poor Todd had strings dangling from all of his limbs now. I wondered what else she could do with him, if she wanted to.

Instead, she just paid for the transaction, before having her own rung up. My heart thumped like a jackhammer until we were back in the car again.

Lesson Nine: Introducing Some Chaos

“There was this little boy who came to see me a few times. As timid as timid could be. He could barely answer the most simple of questions without hemming and hawing about his answer for a good ten minutes. It was kind of adorable, but kind of annoying.

“But, this boy - Davey - he could take just about anything you threw at him. I’d tell him to lick my shoes, and he’d do it. I’d tell him to put my panties over his head and he’d do it. He’d never complain. He’d never backtalk.

“Yet, I couldn’t have a conversation with him to save my life. Or his. Just this complete bundle of nerves whenever it came time to talk. So, I had know idea what he liked or didn’t. I just threw everything at him, waiting for the day when he said ‘no’ to something. But he never did. Never. And at first, you know, I felt bad. It felt like I was somehow taking advantage of someone who didn’t know better than to speak out.

“Sure enough, Davey kept making appointments. He was coming back for more, time after time. And after every session, I thought to myself that it would be the last time I saw him. But then, a month or so later, I’d get a message from him looking to set up another session.

“He became my favorite client. He was a blank slate - a punching bag, even. That sounds a little mean, I suppose, but he didn’t seem to care. And because he wasn’t able to tell me otherwise, I had grown to assume that it was my willingness to try anything on him that kept bringing him back. I mean, you name it and I tried it. Hair pulling. Crops and whips. Riding him around like a horse. Spraying down my yard so that it was a mud pit and having him roll around in it. Filling his diaper with just about everything I could find in my kitchen. You’d be surprised how satisfying the sound of a man sitting in a diaper full of corn flakes is.

“Most of the babies who come to me have these elaborate ideas and fantasies - you know - these daydreams they probably masturbate to three times a week - they’re like directors, you know? I open up the door, and there’s Steven Spielberg in a diaper, and he’s got some very exciting ideas about a scene where he’s ‘caught’ loading his pants in the bathroom.

“My point is that my favorite babies have been the ones that come to me with little sense of their own agency. They want someone else to do the work for them. They’re the baby, I’m the Mommy, and that’s literally all they need to know upfront. That’s what I like the most. And you? You, dumpling? That’s you.”

“It...it is?”

“Oh yeah. I tossed an enema and some baby wipes in your hand and asked you to hold them and you did. No questions asked. No matter how weird or awkward you felt you looked.”

“Well...you told me to, so…”

“You’re just very obedient. And unlike Davey, you’re communicative. And you know what you haven’t told me yet?”

“No?”

“Exactly. ‘No.’ I feel like I’ve asked a lot of you in a short amount of time. A lot, especially for someone who’s never so-much as worn a diaper in the past. Yet you never say no.”

“I mean...I could say no if I wanted to.”

Averie laughed.

We had thrown everything into the backseat of her SUV and we were on the road again. However, I had remembered the way we came into the store, but we seemed to be heading in the opposite direction now.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Pacifier, Dumpling,” she said to me. I exhaled loudly and took it from the cup holder in the middle console where I left it earlier, popping it back into my mouth.

“Just up the road here, there’s a park. Between you and me, it’s kind of a shithole. They really let the place go to hell. But, thankfully, we’re not going there for the scenery.”

That hadn’t really provided much insight, but I let it go - not that I had a choice. Thankfully, I didn’t have long to ponder it, as it was just as close as she had indicated it was. We drove down a long access road to a small parking lot that was almost completely empty, save for a parked truck.

“As I figured,” she stated, surveying the area as she parked in the lot. “This place is good for two things, as far as I’m concerned: fishing and as a quick rest stop when you need to change your baby’s diaper. And we don’t have a fishing pole with us today, so…”

I made an embarrassing noise with my nose from the surprise - not quite a snort, but not quite a deep breath either.

But she didn’t wait for me to catch my breath. She simply got out of the car and opened up the back hatch before lowering the back seats.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said.

I didn’t move yet. I was going to - but I hadn’t quite found the will to get my diaper changed in the back of Averie’s SUV. At the very least, the back of the car was pointed at the woods. While it was possible someone could see me in a pretty compromising situation, it seemed like they’d have to work pretty hard for that to happen.

“Please don’t make me ask again,” she said. That was my cue.

I slid out of the passenger seat and waddled back. I layed on my back on a blanket she had laid out in the now-extended rear of the vehicle. She took care of the rest. She didn’t just pull my pants down, she pulled them off along with my shoes. Just as she had earlier, she was an efficient diaper-changing machine. Thank goodness.

“Here’s what made me think of Little Davey,” she said, holding up the shopping back from the store. “I wondered what I’d want to do with him right now, if we had been in a similar situation. The answer seemed a little obvious…”

She pulled the enema out from the bag.

“What do you think about that?”

My eyes grew big. I just about spit out the pacifier so I could ask her if she was serious.

But, there was only one word that mattered to her right now. And I wasn’t saying it. She waited, too, just in case I needed more time to decide that I wanted to reject it. It didn’t happen.

She opened the package and pulled the enema from it. It was a small plastic bottle with a long nozzle attached to it. I supposed I knew of them, but I just never really got that good of a look at one before. I didn’t need one before.

I didn’t want one before.

“This is similar to the suppository from yesterday,” she said. “Similar...but not the same. How about a little game?”

Wasn’t all of this a game? Still, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to play, and so I nodded.

“I thought so. I was thinking I wouldn’t have given you much of a choice anyways, so I’m glad we’re at least on the same page.”

She carefully removed the orange cap from the bottle’s applicator, a long thin plastic chute. She held it up again, so that I had a very clear view of what she was about to use on me.

“If you can hold it in you until we get home, you can have anything you want. Name it, and you can have it.”

That seemed way too good to be true. Either there had to be a catch, or she had absolutely no faith in my ability to hold it in. I pulled the pacifier from my mouth. I just needed to ask.

“A-anything?”

“Oh, up for the challenge I see?”

What did I want? ‘Anything’ was vast and huge. It was probably littered with loopholes. Assuming I got to that point at all. But what did I want?

Really, there was only one thing I could think of. I might’ve even been able to have it if I asked in just the right way.

Her.

I put the pacifier in my mouth without saying another word. There was no use dwelling on the possibilities too much now, before she even plunged the enema into my asshole.

She lifted my legs straight up and bent them so that my knees were on my chest. I felt the cold rigid nozzle slide into my bottom and ease into me. Then came the liquid. Truthfully, I barely felt it, except for the initial burst of cool liquid flowing into my rectum.

I watched Averie’s head turn as she seemed to be looking at something in the parking lot beyond my view. All the while she continued to gently push the enema’s contents into me.

“Hi there,” Averie said to someone.

I felt my face simultaneously become bone white while also feeling like it was on fire. Who was out there? What could they see?

Whoever it was said something, though I couldn’t hear what it was.

“Oh, you know,” Averie said. “Just giving my little girl an enema.”

Was she serious? Did she seriously just say that to somebody? A stranger?

Another muffled response.

“An enema,” Averie repeated. “EN-E-MA.”

The stranger said something else.

“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “Just going to fill her up and put a diaper on her.”

The stranger responded again. I still couldn’t make out a single word they said.

“Alright, sounds good. Have a nice day!” Averie then looked back to me and laughed and shook her head. “He was an old man. Couldn’t hear a damn thing I said.”

That gave me the slightest bit of relief, but not enough. She had me on my back in the back of her car, my legs bent up to my face with an enema sticking out of my ass, and yet she was able to have a nonchalant conversation with a stranger about it.

But, I did trust her. This wasn’t her first rodeo, nor would it be her last. She knew what she was doing, and if she was careless in any way, it would jeopardize her ability to keep at it. And...I wanted to believe that she cared about me.

She finally eased the enema nozzle from me and showed me the empty bottle.

“See? All gone. It’s all inside you now, believe it or not. Not too much longer now, it’s going to want to come back out. So, let’s get you back into a diaper, yes?”

We were back on the road soon after, heading back to her house. I tried to recall how long it had taken for us to get to the store. Maybe 20 minutes? I didn’t know much about enemas, but that seemed like it might be enough time.

Anything. That was what she promised.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

It was hard to say. With the suppository from the day before, I felt like I went from feeling nothing at all to feeling a gradually increasing discomfort. If nothing else, I could feel the enema’s contents inside of me. I felt bloated and heavy.

I just shrugged.

“I have a rule,” she said. “Well...actually, I have a lot of rules. But there’s a rule that I hold myself to, and it might even be the most important one: Never make someone experience something that you haven’t experienced yourself.”

My eyes darted from the window to her face, my eyes growing big. Did this mean that she had…

“Everything you’ve done, I’ve done before. Or some variation thereof. I couldn’t possibly subject you to something I wasn’t willing to be subjected to. And, you know, there are some things that I’ve tried that I don’t want to do to anyone else, because I didn’t enjoy them.”

I was missing details, but the implications were huge. I couldn’t even imagine someone as confident and commanding as Averie in a diaper. Or having been administered an enema. I wondered who did this for her. And, if she was making me sit here in a diaper after getting an enema of my own - did that mean that she liked the one she got?

“I’m not going to pull any tricks here,” she said. “It’s not like I’m going to start driving 10 miles per hour just to ensure you don’t have a chance of getting home clean.”

I gave her a skeptical look.

“I’m not going to lie - I don’t think you’re going to make it regardless. But I’m going to give you a fair chance.”

I wanted to ask her about her experiences. I wanted to know all about the things she had done. But...I also needed to concentrate on the growing tension in my sloshing abdomen.

To her credit, it did feel like she was going at a decent speed. She stayed pretty quiet too. I never wanted to call her “chatty,” but...sometimes she did seem to monologue a bit. Either she was giving me space to focus, or she was just enjoying the show. Both - that was also an option.

Anything.

That’s what she said. I wanted that. With every cramp I told myself that. Really - I wasn’t even sure that I cared what the prize was. I wanted to prove to her that I could last.

EASTHAMPTON - 15 MILES. I sighed. Staring out the window while focusing on objects blur by the window had been my primary way of distracting myself, but seeing that sign only reminded me how much further we’d have to go before we’d be back at her place.

The longer the drive went on, the more I started to feel the primary difference between the suppository and my current enema. At the apex of my discomfort with the suppository, I still felt like I had control. Well...up until I didn’t. But I very much felt like I ultimately had control. The enema felt...different. It felt more urgent. There was going to be a point where it wouldn’t just be too uncomfortable to continue holding it - but it might be impossible.

I quickly glanced to Averie. She was smiling. Of course she was. I would be too if I were her.

I was fidgeting. Shaking. My foot was tapping, trying to match my heart rate - thought it would never catch up.

We must be close. We have to be close now.

EASTHAMPTON - 10 MILES. That seemed completely unreal to me.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I said, spitting out my pacifier.

“That’s a very naughty word, isn’t it?” She was as calm and smug as she usually was, though I could sense that I had stepped on a trap. “Little girls should not be using language like that.”

“I...uhm...but…” I stopped talking, quickly jamming the pacifier back into my mouth.

“I won’t be forgetting that,” she said.

It was hopeless. I had been a fool. Of course she knew better - she was Mommy. She was “Mommy” to so many pathetic little babies. She had seen it all.

I felt the tiniest squirt of liquid shoot from by cheeks and into the diaper. I let out a gasp, quickly trying to retain control. She just shook her head - maybe not aware of what had happened, though I’m sure she could guess.

“Are you going to keep pretending you have something to prove to me?” she asked.

I nodded, slowly.

“This is what it means to be a baby, Daisy. You know what you want to do - but you can’t. No matter how hard you try. You’re too little. Too pathetic. Too helpless. Alas, you won’t make it. And so you’re left with a choice now: Do you keep up this laughable charade a little longer; only making yourself look more foolish when you inevitably fail? Or, do you just give in and let your little baby body do its thing? Personally, I think the answer is rather clear.”

I laughed to myself. She was right, as she tended to be. I wondered if I had missed the entire point of this exercise - I wasn’t supposed to take it as a challenge, I was supposed to just accept the reality.

Or maybe I was overthinking it.

Either way, I shit myself right then and there. I lifted my bottom up from the seat as high as the seat belt would allow and relinquished the tight grip my body had on the hell that it was holding back. A violent blast of warm liquid was unleashed into the diaper. That wasn’t all, of course - the flood had carried with it every bit of debris it could collect along the way. The sounds coming from my body - an unholy cacophony of squelches and streams of liquid - made it abundantly clear what was happening. It had all been so effortless and quick that, for a moment, I believed that I had only expelled pure liquid into the diaper. Pissing from my ass. Embarrassing - but it seemed better than what the suppositories had done to me.

I was very wrong.

Sitting back down on the filled diaper revealed that I wasn’t wearing a soggy diaper. It was a swamp. I was sitting in soup. Stew, more specifically. A mushy sludge that was too thick to be absorbed by the diaper’s lining, but too thin to just stay in one spot. My ass displaced it all throughout the diaper. I felt like I was wearing a bowl of corn chowder.

“See?” Averie said, her face positively radiating with an expression of ‘I told you so.’ “Better out than in, Dumpling. You wouldn’t have made it. You’re a baby.”

Dumpling. It just felt like a dig. My blushing intensified.

“We’ll be home soon enough. I’ll take you into the backyard and spray you off with the hose.”

I gasped, looking at her with pleading eyes. I’d have taken out the pacifier to beg out loud too, but the comfort provided by my suckling seemed to be all I had right now.

“I’m kidding,” she said, rolling down her window.. “Though, I’ve done it before. Very satisfying.”

EASTHAMPTON - NEXT EXIT. I sighed, wondering what could have been.

“What would you have wanted?” she asked a little later, as we turned onto the final street to her house.

I tilted my head, not sure I got the context.

“If you had, miraculously, made it home without filling your diaper. What would you have wanted?”

I debated about whether or not I should tell the truth. I took the pacifier from my mouth - hoping that by the time I actually opened my mouth, I’d know what to say.

But I didn’t. So I just told the truth instead: “You.”

“Me?”

I nodded.

“Someone has some stockholm syndrome, yes?”

“N-no, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure that…”

“It would’ve been a silly thing to ask for, Baby.”

Again, I looked at her with confusion.

“You already had me,” she said.

I wasn’t completely sure what she meant by that. But it warmed my heart almost as much as the warm mass I was sitting on.

Lesson 10: Growing Up

“I thought that I had it all figured out. While the rest of our relationship seemed to be crashing and burning around us, my ex seemed to at least like the time spent getting his diapers changed by me. So I put it out there online - just a pretty simple ad on a local personals website offering ‘mommy’ services to ABDLs. I foolishly thought - best case scenario - I’d find one local diaper-wearing lonely guy who’d want to test the waters with a stranger. But my inbox was blowing up. I had guys from three states away asking if they could come see me.

“I won’t lie, it was hard. Much harder than I anticipated it to be. The needs and desires of one are not at all reflective of everyone. Which sounds plenty obvious in hindsight - but at the time I struggled with just how much variance there could be with ‘wear diaper/drink bottle/pee pants/get changed. Some men needed to be coddled and sung to. Some men needed to spend a good two hours getting flogged before we could even get a diaper on them.

“The realization I came to was that I was over my head. I wasn’t a professional, nor did I have any background as an actual parent. Hell, I had never even had a personal attachment to diapers until shortly before I started inviting strangers into my home.

“I had a decision to make - either I gave up on this new hobby of mine, or...I doubled down on it and became the best mommy there ever was.

“I found this woman online who had similar services to mine. She seemed rather well liked by her clients and everything I read - both on her own sites and in the forums that mentioned her - suggested that she knew what she was doing. I guess I did the same thing you did; research. I wasn’t as...upfront about it as you were. I went there as a client, and I never told her otherwise.

“She figured it out, of course. Not then, at that first session. It would be three or four sessions later, and after she had spotted one of my ads online. I thought there was going to be trouble - like I would have accidentally ignited a mommy turf war. But it couldn’t have been further from that.

“Maya didn’t fear competition. She didn’t even see it as competition. For her, this was just a new option for folks. Options were good. Everyone benefited from options.

“I can’t tell you just how much Maya’s guidance helped me, and in turn, helped everyone who visited either Maya or myself. I swore that one day I’d find the chance to pay it forward. And then you come barging through my door without a diaper on, begging me to help you turn your sad husband into a baby. It’s funny how things work out like that, right?”

I liked learning more about Averie, and I was soaking in every word. But it was a little surreal to hear all of this while she changed my diaper. I was on the changing table now, and she was carefully wiping away yet another layer of enema-induced sludge from my bottom. I was rank, and I had felt terrible about stinking up her car something awful. Yet she never batted an eye. Sure, she picked on me for it. Sure, she gave my bottom a few playful swats as I scurried back into her house. But she never made it seem like it was a burden or something that she didn’t want to deal with.

“I can’t just change your diaper,” she said with a shrug. “You’re going to need a bath. Then you’ll get your fresh diaper.”

I blushed. Had it really been that bad?

“Your first weekend as a baby and you’ve already had a blow out and...whatever this disaster is. Are you proud of yourself, Dumpling? Because you should be. You really know how to destroy a diaper in a way that few can. It’s very impressive.”

She left me on the changing table as she disappeared, leaving me in my opened diaper - my ass only half cleaned. Elsewhere, I could hear water running. Was she going to bathe me? I really hoped so.

“I’ll help you down from the changing table. Please do your best to be careful though, Princess. It’s bad enough I need to clean you. I don’t want to have to clean up a little trail of filth that you leave behind you.”

She took my hands in hers and pulled me to a sitting position. Carefully, I swung my legs over the side of the changing table and tried to dismount the filthy diaper and table all at once. As far as I could tell - mostly by just looking at her face - I hadn’t made too much more of a mess than I already had.

My hand was still held by, and she led me to the bathroom. It was amusing, I thought, that I hadn’t seen this bathroom at all yet. Because why would I?

It was a nice large tub, and there was plenty of steam and bubbles rising from the surface of the water. It smelled of lavender. She had already removed all of my clothes before she started changing me earlier, so there was really one thing left to do. One foot at a time, I eased myself into the hot water. It verged on being too hot, but I quickly acclimated - finding it to actually be just the right temperature. I wanted to live in this water forever. This was my womb.

I knelt in the tub, the water rising to about my waist. She looked down at me from outside of the tub. She looked so happy, so satisfied. It reminded me of how I imagined my own mother must’ve looked at me sometimes. If she looked at her clients like this - even a tenth of this - I could see why every one of them would want to come back time and time again.

Averie produced a foam loofa and she soaked it in the tub, before twisting out the excess water. She gently ran it over my shoulders, letting the hot water cascade down my back and breasts.

“Do you like that, Baby?” She didn’t have to ask, given how I gently moaned with every pass of her hand. But I was happy she did anyways. I could listen to her coo the word ‘baby’ to me endlessly.

I nodded, my eyes closed. Her hand dived under the service of the water, and I felt the soft loofa run down my side.

“Lean forward, sweetheart. I have to clean your bottom.”

I did so, feeling the loofa gently brush against my backside. I wondered just how much was left to clean.

I opened my eyes, just in time to watch the abandoned loofa drift past me, floating on the surface. It looked like her hand was still submerged. I wondered what she was doing - but she quickly gave me the answer. I felt her finger tips working their way between my ass cheeks.

“Ooh,” I said, unexpectedly - as if she had forced it out of me.

“After a mess like that, I feel like I just need to make sure you’re extra clean. You understand, don’t you, Baby?”

I nodded.

My body was at an almost perfect position in the water. On my knees, bent over; my ass was like a wide-open expressway tunnel for her fingers and she seemed ready and willing to take advantage of that.

Nobody had ever done something like this for me before. Well, certainly not while in a tub after a rather nasty mess in a diaper - but nobody had ever used my ass before either. I had done some light experimenting myself over the years, and found it rather enjoyable, but the experience never seemed to present itself with Neil - or anyone else.

Now, as her soapy fingers worked their way inside my ass, I made a series of whiny groans. They probably came off as bad noises - but I was deeply satisfied.

“Oh? Do you like that, Baby? Do you like when Mommy cleans out your bottom.”

“Uhm...mmmm...yes.”

“Tell me?”

“Mommy, I love...uhmm...when you are inside of me. Inside my ass.”

“Good. Dumpling, can you do me a favor?”

“Mm, yes…”

“Baby-talk for me? It’s been a minute, and you’re just so darn good at it.”

No hesitation. No thinking about it, let alone second guessing. Her fingers inside my bottom had seemingly found the magic button that absolutely drained me of any semblance of adulthood.

“Mmmm...mahh...oooh...maa...ba-ba…” They were just noises and sounds. It was the best I could offer - moans and fragments of moans.

She slowly eased her fingers out. Instinctively, I leaned back to where I had started, just kneeling in the bathwater. She was gone, but my bottom still hummed where she had been.

“What needs cleaning now, Baby?”

I used both of my hands to take one of hers and press it against my chest. She wasted no time in running her hands over breasts, gently tugging at my nipples.

It all seemed to kick into hyperdrive from there. I’m not even sure who made the next move; it was possible we acted simultaneously. She was leaning into the tub, and I was trying to lean out of it. We met in the middle, and we were kissing. She continued to massage my breasts and I continued to hold her hands in place. One of her hands plunged into the water between my legs and found me to be even more wet than she could imagine.

I was out of the tub. She had a towel, but suddenly the towel was on the ground. We were trying to leave the bathroom together, but we were just grinding against each other as we kissed, taking turns pressing the other against the wall with our bodies. Her clothes were soaked. I was still wet. We were stumbling out of the bathroom now. Down the hall. Into the nursery. She was on her back in the crib now, and she was shoving my face between her legs.

“Aren’t you hungry, Dumpling?”

I was. Absolutely ravenous.

I’d say I ate like a queen, but the truth was that my queen was Averie.

Mommy.

I couldn’t even decide how I’d refer to her in my mind.

She was beyond wet; she was dripping. My face was almost instantly saturated, and I loved every moment of it. It had been so long - since my fling with Maisie in the backseats of cars - since I had pleasured another woman with my mouth. But it was hardly a skill I had forgotten. I knew what I wanted, and I was right to assume that she’d want the same thing.

--

I had the most wonderful dream. Mommy’s legs were wrapped around my head and…

I stirred, finding my head resting on her chest. We were lying in the crib together and her arms were around me. I was completely nude.

“Hello,” she said.

“Was I...asleep?”

“So was I,” she said. “It was nice.”

“Did I…”

“Give me the best oral sex I’ve ever had in my entire life? Yes.”

“Oh.” I quickly realized that was nothing to be ashamed of. I added: “Good for me.”

“What are you going to do now?” she asked.

“Put...a diaper on?” Was I being tested?

“No, silly,” she laughed. “After this. After this weekend.”

I sighed. I hadn’t thought much about that.

“Do you think your husband deserves someone as good as you?”

I didn’t know how to answer that, so I offered only a slight shrug.

“Do you want to be a Mommy?”

“I want to be a baby. Forever.”

“Don’t we all,” she said with a sigh of her own.

“I do,” I said, getting back to her question. “But...not for Neil.”

“There’s a lot of babies in this world. There’s lots of room for another Mommy.”

“But...it’d be hard for me to give up...this.”

“Being a baby?”

I nodded.

“Who says you have to?”

I looked up to her face.

“You can be both,” she said with a confident nod. “I should know.”

“You…”

She nodded again.

“Still? Even now?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” she said. “But when I can.”

“Maya?”

She nodded, kissing me on the forehead.

I snuggled deeper into her chest. Every time I learned something new about her, I was becoming even more smitten.

--

I was dressed and ready to go. I didn’t want to go, but I was ready to. Mommy insisted on putting me into another diaper. “For the road.” She had even produced a permanent marker so that she could write “good girl” on it - my grade for my weekend’s worth of work.

I wondered if Neil would be home when I got back. If not, I wondered when he actually would show up. Would he notice I was wearing a diaper? I kind of wanted to show him. I kind of wanted to tell him where I had been.

“We have to do this again,” Mommy said.

“I really want to.”

“No,” she said with a grin, “that was a command. You must come back again.”

“Fine. I will.”

“Good girl.”

“I appreciate...all of this. I feel like a complete mess. I came here yesterday thinking that I just wanted to please Neil. But…”

“You realized you should be pleasing yourself,” she said.

I nodded. “But...I still want to learn. I want to be a Mommy too. Like you.”

“Why?”

Her simple question caught me off guard. “I...uh…”

“Think about it,” she said. “Next time you see me, give me an answer. Otherwise, I’m fine with just keeping you in diapers.”

I nodded.

“I had a cancellation for next Saturday. I was going to see if anyone on my website wanted the slot, but…”

“I can be here.”

“Good. I had hoped you’d say that.”

We tightly embraced each other. I wanted...well, I wanted a lot of things. But in this moment they all felt so awkward.

Thankfully she seemed to want the same things. Her lips found mine and we kissed. Our mouths opened against each other’s. Or tongues collided. We finally had to pull away, only because we both knew we’d end up on the ground together if we didn’t.

Ten minutes into the drive home, I pissed my diaper.

I was thinking about a lot of things. Averie. Neil. What I wanted to do with myself. I tried to get back into the headspace I was in back when I was first driving to Averie’s house. It had just been the day before, sure, but that might as well have been 10 weeks ago. I asked myself the same question I had asked myself then: Why did I want to be a Mommy for Neil?

Yesterday, I thought that it was because it was what he wanted. It would give him a reason to not only stay with me, but a reason for him to stay and be happy with me. But, there was something below the surface even then. Another feeling I hadn’t fully defined for myself. It was something I thought about when I watched his adult baby videos or read the stories that he liked, or when I researched all of the things that I thought would make him happy. And it was only after I arrived at Mommy’s - and she had so effortlessly transformed me into a baby myself - that I realized what it was: Power. The confidence and will to take someone and strip them of the things that made them an “adult.”

And Mommy had been right. There was no way that I would’ve ever been able to achieve what I had wanted - or to have been effective in any way - if I hadn’t started at the beginning myself.

I had a ways to go. I had a few more diapers of my own I needed to fill first. But I was more sure than ever that I wanted to be a Mommy, just like Averie.

And when I had achieved that?

Neil would be spending money on sessions with me.

To be continued...