Desperation, Part 3 of 3 [Tier 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

Three

My mother had been a clean freak. At the risk of sounding dismissive, I think it was a different time. She never worked once she had kids, and so all she had was cleaning. She had a schedule. She vacuumed three times a week: Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Mondays were for laundry. Wednesday was for the garden. Fridays were for dusting and scrubbing the kitchen. On top of all the other daily things: washing dishes, making beds, general tidying.

She wasn’t the type to demand cleanliness from anyone else though. Sure, she’d ask us to pick up after ourselves or take our shoes off at the door. But no matter how much laundry we had or how many dishes we created, she never seemed to mind. She had accepted her role and had embraced it.

I didn’t take those habits with me when I moved out. I had never been an especially clean person. I knew where everything was, and I didn’t like leaving trash strewn about. But I vacuumed once every two weeks - assuming I remembered at all - and I only dusted when I walked past the TV and was surprised to find a thick layer of grey fluff atop it.

But I didn’t consider myself dirty.

Now, before my small audience, I was dirty. Filthy and disgusting. And I could feel this revelation flipping a switch. Once I left this place, I would be a dirty girl forever after. I’d want more. I’d demand more. I’d forever be lusting for anything that made me the way I felt in this moment.

Bald Man’s cock in my mouth, Young Man standing behind me, First Man and the woman standing off to my right - I was in the very center of the universe when my body gave in and answered the desperate angry call of my bowels. It was unlike anything I had ever felt in my life - a hellish beam of liquids and solids violently fired into the back of my sagging diaper. Much like the way you could feel every bump in the road as you drove a car, I could feel every solid and semi-solid lump in the beam as it exited my ass. It was disgusting, yet I had wished that it lasted ten times longer than the three seconds it took to completely fill the diaper.

Nothing changed. Nobody moved or commented. Surely everybody knew what happened. There was no doubt that they could see the back of my diaper changing shape. Color too, probably. And the sound couldn’t have been missed. But nothing changed, and I got back to work on Bald Man’s cock, trying not to let the wet heavy mass below me cause too much of a distraction.

The enema had released in waves. Not long after the first eruption, I felt another cramp heralding the need for release, and I made no effort in fighting it. This felt especially infantile - the lack of hesitation in letting go.

“Very good,” Young Man said. “Look at you, just letting it all out like that. Such a stinky little girl, yes?”

Yes, that was that stuff I needed. It wasn’t enough to have made a gross spectacle of myself, I needed to be told how dirty I was. I needed to be mocked and made to feel ashamed.

“Get ready,” Bald Man said again. I had almost forgotten that my mouth was still pumping on his manhood. In the scheme of all things, that now seemed like the least interesting thing.

It wasn’t my first time getting a mouthful of a man’s seed. It had done nothing for me in the past, beyond the satisfaction of having pleased its owner. But Bald Man was nothing like the men I had pleasured before. For one, his cock left little room in my mouth for his gifts to go, and so when he came, I instinctively let it all stream right down my throat. And there was so much. An almost exaggerated amount. The amount you might see in some spicy subscription-only internet movie when a man climaxes - which had never, before now, matched my own experiences with men finishing.

Filled. Front and back. Top and bottom. Completely.

Just as it had when I filled my diaper moments ago, the world remained frozen in place after. His cock was still in my mouth. Everyone else stood where they were, observing. It stayed like this for a long time. Long enough for the contents of my diaper to settle. Long enough to feel the remnants of Bald Man’s climax slide down the back of my mouth.

Bald Man pushed me off of him slowly, forcing me back onto the back of my ankles again. I felt the diaper squish below me. A warm mush touched my ass cheeks.

“Do you smell that?” Young Man said from behind me. “Oh my lord.”

“I’m not sure what you expected,” the woman said, her voice getting closer. I turned my head - now that I could - and watched her approach us with a smile on her face. “We put her in a diaper and called her Baby. Of course she was going to be a good girl and live up to those expectations.”

She reached forward, cupping her hand under my chin and lifted my head up so that she could look down into my eyes.

“Is that right?” she asked. “You’re just a little baby, doing the things that a baby does?”

“Yes,” I said.

“She said some very interesting things to me earlier,” she said to the others. “When I shaved her clean.”

I said nothing. Was she asking me to repeat those things? Because I could barely recall how I was sitting here in a messy diaper, let alone what I said twenty minutes ago. Twenty years ago? How long have I been here?

Young Man laughed. “I think we missed that. Baby? Do you want to share?”

I opened my mouth, but it was hard to make any words come out.

“Oh she’s far too little to talk now,” the woman said. “Baby, why don’t you just suck your thumb instead.”

I found this to be an especially good idea and I stuck my thumb into my open mouth, clamping my lips down around it. My small thumb was the polar opposite of the last flesh that had passed through my lips, and my sore jaw thanked me for it.

“I can give you the jist of it,” the woman said. “She’ll nod and confirm that what I say is true.”

I nodded.

“For one, she said she’d do anything for me. Anything I wanted. And I’ll go ahead and assume that extends to the rest of you as well, given what we’ve just seen.”

“And smelled,” added Young Man.

I nodded, feeling my cheeks ignite.

“She said I could put her in a crib.”

“We don’t have a crib,” First Man said.

“But,” the woman said. “We could put her in a crib. That’s how much of a baby she is. She knows where she belongs.”

I nodded.

“We should get a crib,” Young Man said.

“If you think we’d use it, I could put in a request,” First Man said. “But we’ve never needed one before.”

“Well sure,” Young Man replied. “But we also didn’t know that they’d be fun. And maybe one of those, uh...I don’t know what they’re called. Baby cages?”

“Playpen?” asked the woman.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“We can talk about this later,” said First Man.

“What else?” asked Young Man. “What else did she say?”

“Oh,” the woman said with a smile. “Do you know what she said? She said she wanted to be pushed around the park in a stroller.”

I nodded.

“We don’t have a stroller either,” First Man said. I wondered if the implication was that this was the only thing preventing that from being a reality.

“Damn,” Young Man said. “That sounds fun.”

Bald Man finally sighed and straightened himself out on his chair. He tucked his cock back into his pants and zipped them up.

“I’m done,” he announced.

“Done?” asked Young Man. “Seriously? I feel like we just started.”

“Nothing will top that for me,” he said. “You all have a good night.”

But he wasn’t talking to me, and as he stood up and shuffled past me, there was no acknowledgment in his eyes. I wasn’t in front of him. If I was, I certainly wasn’t human. I was furniture. A machine. He had just put a quarter in me, slipped his dick in my mouth, and that was the end of our transaction. It made me feel even dirtier. Fuck, that’s good stuff.

He walked through the same door he had entered through originally. Nobody else seemed to have anything to say about it. Maybe this was just the way things were with Bald Man.

“What else?” said Young Man. “It feels like you two had a lot to talk about in the shower.”

He meant something by that, but I wasn’t able to dig into it much at the moment. I supposed that it might have seemed strange to have said these things to the woman unprovoked. Could he guess that something had pushed me to that point of babbling?

“She said she wanted to fill her diapers like a baby,” the woman said.

I didn’t remember saying that. Maybe I did? I nodded anyways. Even if I hadn’t said that, I would’ve had I thought to.

“Mission accomplished,” said Young Man.

“Do you know what else she said?” asked the woman. She smiled at me as she said this. I could read her mind: Play along, sweetheart.

“Hmm?”

“She said that after she went and made a big stinky mess in her diaper, she wanted to be bent over and have her mushy ass slapped into oblivion.”

I was almost positive I hadn’t said that. But I nodded excitedly.

“Look,” she added. “Do you see how badly she wants it?”

“Well, I certainly have no objections to doing the honors,” Young Man said, cracking his knuckles. “Little girls need discipline and I, for one, like to-”

“No,” said First Man.

“No?” replied Young Man, sounding like a little boy himself now - just having been told that he can’t have any ice cream.

“I’ll do it,” First Man said, stepping closer.

“Okay,” Young Man said. There was disappointment or resentment in his tone, just respect.

I had fallen in love with First Man, or at least the concept of First Man. The strong silent type. The leader. No joking around or wasted words. Daddy.

First Man reached back to the chair he had been sitting in and brought it closer to me, moving Bald Man’s chair out of the way. Bald Man’s chair was presumably clean - though I couldn’t question First Man’s reasons for not wanting to sit there himself.

“Would you like that?” he asked. “Would you like me to paddle you?”

I nodded, easing my thumb from my mouth so that I could blurt out: “Yes, Daddy.” I immediately blushed, barely able to believe that I had just said that myself.

“Wow,” muttered Young Man. “We really did a number on this one.”

“I hope that makes me ‘Mommy,’” the woman said, winking to First Man.

First Man smiled at her before turning back to me. “Come. I’m sure you know how I want you.”

I had never been paddled before. Maybe not even as a child - either I wasn’t that bad of a kid, or my parents just hadn’t been that type. I liked the idea of it - I had even thrown the idea out to an ex or two in the past, though nothing had ever come to fruition. They were too selfish; which seemed silly to me considering that it probably wouldn’t have felt bad to slap their girlfriend at her request.

So I knew where I needed to be, because it was a place I had spent a lot of time fantasizing about. I crawled into the lap of the strong stoic man, My tummy balanced on his firm thighs as my sagging and smelling diaper hung off the side of his legs.

I expected more banter, or a warning. Some sort of signal as to what was coming. But, immediately: THWACK. A firm hand struck the bottom of my diaper. It felt no different than if he had held a 2x4 in his hand. It didn’t hurt, per se, there was far too much between my skin and his hand, but there was still damage done. The wet sloppy mess in the diaper was given even less room to reside, and so it spread everywhere it could in my diaper. It creeped into areas that had once been dry - or drier. It splattered against my skin, and it acted as a paste so that the diaper stuck against it.

Again: THWACK. But his hand didn’t bounce off of my diaper this time. It stayed there, and he felt and massaged the squishing mess through the padding. He smeared it and rubbed it into me.

“You’re like a little pig,” he said to me. It didn’t sound mean. It was affectionate. I imagined myself as his little pig. “You clearly love this.”

I wasn’t sure which end of me he was paying attention to, but I nodded.

“I want you to be happy, little pig,” he said, further smushing the contents of my diaper in places it probably didn’t belong.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

His hand left my diaper, and that could only mean one thing: THWACK. And then again. And again. And a few more times, the momentum from one powering the next.

Before anyone else could say anything, I already knew the situation down there was dire. I don’t know where this giant diaper came from, but it was unlikely that whoever manufactured it had anticipated it holding this much before being swatted at repeatedly. I felt liquid running down my legs. I felt something oozing from the waist band - creeping up my back.

“As much as I’d like to see you continue,” the woman said to First Man, “I worry that you’d need to throw out your own pants after.”

“Perhaps I misjudged how full the little pig’s diapers were.”

“I’m...sorry, Daddy.” I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for. Cutting short his fun?

“It cannot be helped,” he said. “But Mommy is right.” I liked that he called her that, and it looked as if she enjoyed that too.

He helped ease me off his lap, and I found myself standing upright for the first time in a while. Certainly the first time since I had loaded the diaper. Beads of moisture continued to dribble down my legs, and when I looked to my feet, I could see that I had made a little puddle in the carpet.

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

“You needn’t worry about that,” First Man said. “I’m the one who should be sorry. In the future, perhaps I’ll be more cautious about what I wear on a night like this one.”

It felt wrong to stand like everyone else. I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t one of them. I was a baby. I was, in First Man’s word, a little pig. I dropped down to my hands and knees again. That felt right to me.

“But that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be able to have fun,” First Man continued, looking down at me. “I can see that you’re not finished yet.”

“No, Daddy.”

“Sit,” he said. “On your bottom.”

I did not hesitate, nor did I even consider the request. He controlled my body with his words, and I simply sat up for a moment before easing myself onto my ass. Things were already apocalyptic in my diaper, and sitting in it wasn’t going to make things any worse than they already were. But the feeling was new - the loose contents of the diaper pressed between the floor and my ass.

“Do you like how your diaper feels, little pig?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Look at you. You’re leaking onto the floor. Your back is covered in your own filthy mess. And you like this, yes?”

I nodded. I didn’t even blush. Blushing had suggested that I was ashamed of what I had done.

“Tell me how much you like, little pig.”

I felt put on the spot and momentarily paralyzed by fear. What was it that he expected me to say? But, as when I was with the woman in the shower, all it took was opening my mouth, and my subconscious took over for me.

“I...like it. Love. I love it so much. I just want to...roll around like a little dirty pig.”

“Then do it,” he said. “Show us.”

I needed no further convincing, as I immediately fell to my side on the ground and proceeded to roll my entire back and forth. I hadn’t done something so silly since I was an actual little girl - rolling around like I was in the snow or in a pile of leaves. Except now, I wore only a dirty diaper that was slowing spilling its contents out of every available opening. I felt the ground around me dampen. I felt wetness and dollops of sticky sludge on bits of my skin that were dry moments before. I had no idea what I looked like, but it couldn’t have been pretty.

“Look at her,” Young Man said with a laugh. “She’s an honest-to-goodness little piglet.”

“Can I take her home?” asked the woman. “I promise to clean out her cage once a day and give her plenty of water.”

“Put me in my pig-pen, Mommy,” I said, still rolling to and fro on the carpet, making a greater mess of myself. “Let me roll around in the mud and in my own filth. Feed me from a troth. Clean me off with a hose.”

“She makes a compelling argument,” First Man said. “Were it any earlier, I’d say we should take a field trip.”

“No way,” Young Man said. “She’s not going to stink up my car.”

“Have you not gotten used to the smell already?” the woman asked, casually waving a hand before her face.

The air, to me, no longer seemed pungent or disgusting. It was sweet. The smell of comfort.

My hands helplessly grabbed at the front of my diaper. There’d never in a million years be enough stimulation to satisfy me. I was sexually starving in a way that I had never been before. I wanted more than the world was capable of giving me.

Desperation, my old friend. Finding new and exciting ways to play with me.

I felt as if I was losing my mind on their floor. The ground around me had become dirty and slippery. One of my hands was inside my diaper, but it had no idea what to do once it had gotten there.

I was baby. I was stupid. I was dirty and desperate. Everything I had ever learned in my life had faded into the void and I was left with my most primal urges and instincts.

Me dumb. Me dirty.

I began to cry. This wasn’t just some watery eyes. This was a full-on tantrum. Everything poured out of me as I found myself completely set free from whatever remaining graces I had while in the company of others. Tears poured down my cheeks. A loud and roaring bawl from deep within my throat filled the room. I lie on my back, stomping and slapping down at the ground while wiggling about in my filthy diaper.

It was everything. My place in this world and my lack of money and my lack of a job. My missing cat. The never-ending parade of men coming in and out of my life who did nothing for me. It was the lack of fucking milk in my refridgerator.

And, of course, it was because I was a baby.

“Alright, alright,” said a voice. “That’s enough of that.” It was First Man, who had knelt down beside my head. He brushed the tears from my eyes, and ran his fingers through my hair.

He hadn’t flipped a switch off, but he had at least dialed it down a few notches. I caught my breath, lowering my primal sounds to just a murmuring whimper.

“Let’s put this back in your mouth, yes?” he said, lifting my right hand - the hand that had not been exploring my diaper - and eased its thumb into my mouth.

That was better. Much better.

He stood up and returned to Young Man and the woman. They talked in a cluster, all while looking down at me.

“Are we done here?” asked Young Man.

“That’s not for me to say,” said First Man. “It’d be up to her.”

“I’m calling it,” the woman said.

“I wanted more,” Young Man whined.

“Get over yourself. You get plenty. Anytime you want it.”

“But I want her.”

“We all do,” she said.

“Head on out,” First Man said to Young Man. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Fine.” He spun on his heels and walked through the door.

For a moment, neither of the remaining hosts had anything to say, they just looked down at me and watched. I had mostly calmed myself down, and my ability to reason was returning. My throat was raw. Every inch of my body was filled with regret as the reality of my situation began to take hold again.

“I’ll take it from here,” the woman said to First Man.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’m going to help clean her up and get her out of here.”

“Very well. Let’s talk later. All of us.”

She nodded.

He turned to me one last time, the slightest smile on his handsome face. “Good bye, little pig. It was a pleasure.”

I was too weak to say much of anything, but I lifted my left hand and offered a small wave - just a curl and an uncurl of my fingers.

When the door closed behind him, the woman went back to the black bag and reached into it, pulling out some baby wipes.

“Believe me,” she said. “Baby wipes are not going to solve all of your problems. But let’s at least get you cleaned up enough that we can get you to the shower.”

I slid my thumb from my mouth. “Do I...have to wear the blindfold again.”

She nodded. “Nothing personal.” I didn’t take it personally.

She was careful and methodical in her efforts; drawing a damp cloth from the plastic container and using it to wipe away anything that had managed to escape the diaper. And my hand. And bits and pieces of me that had touched the carpet in the midst of my little piggy tantrum.

“What about your carpet?” I asked.

“Not my problem,” she said. “Nor yours.”

She helped me up to my feet and finished the job, spending a lot of time cleaning off my lower back. I wondered what it looked like. I had been too nervous to really look over any part of myself. But she wore a brave and confident face, never giving me the impression that this was the dreadfully disgusting disaster that I thought it was. For all I knew, maybe she had seen worse. Perhaps this was nothing.

The blindfold was tied around my head once more, and she led me across the room once more. We were slower now - my movement reduced to an uneasy waddle on account of the thick mass of trouble between my legs now. Once more, doors opened and closed. Maybe there were people watching me and maybe there weren’t. Maybe Young Man, Bald Man and First Man watched me pass them. I swore I heard someone make some sort of retching noise off to the side, but I could’ve been wrong.

My feet were on tiles once more, and not long after, we were stopped in the shower. I heard the loud pulling sound of the sticky tapes being removed from the diaper, until it finally dropped from my body, landing on the tiles below with a heavy SPLAT. I heard her fumbling with it below - wrapping it up, or just kicking it aside. The water turned on soon after, and cool water hit me in the belly. She guided the water as it slowly warmed, leading it up and down my body. She turned me around, getting the back as well. She manipulated my body with her hands, bending me forward so that she had better access to the caked-on mess left from my diaper. Her hands helped the water to break through the filth, clearing it away and letting my skin be cleansed.

I smelled something soft and flowery, and I felt a well-lathered sponge working its way between my legs and up my backside. She took her time, making sure to reach every nook and cranny. And when she was satisfied, she directed the water across my body, rinsing away the last traces of what had transpired in the other room.

Her hands hadn’t left my body though. Some fingertips played with my labia for a moment before she directed them to my backdoor. With them pressed against my rosebud, I moaned softly. She understood this to be the invitation that I intended it to be and she pressed her fingers into me.

“We have to make sure you’re clean,” she said. “Inside and out.”

“Please clean me,” I said.

The water was still running, hitting my abdomen and cascading down to the tiles below. It occurred to me that there was no way that the woman wasn’t getting wet at all, given where she was. I reached my hands backwards - I wasn’t even sure what I hoped to achieve - and I made contact with her. I immediately recognized the point of contact as being her shoulders. There was no shirt where there had been a shirt before.

It was as if having my sight taken from me had caused my brain to put the rest of my senses into overdrive. I could smell the traces of the floral soap, but that couldn’t mask everything else. Sweat. Her own personal fragrance - something more fresh and herbal. Somewhere beneath all of that was the lingering remnants of my diaper - it couldn’t have been too far from wherever we were, and the dirty little package continued to serve as a reminder of what had happened not that long before.

I could almost filter out the sound of the water to just our steps in the puddled water below. Little splishes and splashes of our feet gently shifting and finding better angles. One hand of hers remained in my ass, while her other had reached around, caressing anything in her hand’s path. Her fingers slowly shifted back and forth behind me, each movement into me sending a jolt of electricity up my body. I was moaning - a long and dynamic noise that fluctuated in time with her fingers: “OoooOOOHHHooooOOOH!”

I couldn’t help it any longer, and even though I never wanted my ass to go without something in it ever again, there were things I wanted more than that. I spun around, pulling her hand out from under me as I did.

“Don’t you want more?” she asked.

“I want everything.”

“Everything?” I couldn’t see it, but I knew she was smiling. That devilish smile I thought I had caught once or twice in the other room.

“I want to taste you,” I said. “I want to serve you. Please. Please let me please you.”

I reached up, wrapping my arms around her body. I felt like a child - in fact it had invoked feelings of being that very child - clinging to a parent tightly because you couldn’t stand the thought of even a moment without them.

“You don’t think you haven’t already?” she asked. “You’ve earned what you came here for. We’re finished. I can take you back to the room and you can get dressed and you can take the money and go.”

“No,” I said.

“No?” She laughed.

“I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about going home. I came here for one thing, but now that I’m here, I only want...more.”

“More,” she said. It didn’t sound as if she was questioning me, it sounded like she understood exactly what I meant.

“I’ll be a good girl,” I said; it was the opening salvo in yet another barrage of desperate and unfiltered thoughts. “I’ll do anything. Can you put me in another diaper? I promise I’ll wet it again. I promise I’ll fill it up real good. Do you want me to poop my pants, Mommy? I’ll do it. I’ll crawl around it and roll around in my dirty diaper just like you like. I...I could even make little piggy sounds and…”

The water turned off, and with it my train of thought had derailed. A few moments passed in silence, beyond the slow drip-drip-drip of the showerhead expelling the last of the water. It took much longer than I expected to realize that just as my arms were wrapped around her, her arms had wrapped around me. I sniffled, and she responded with a sniffle of your own.

“What’s wrong with us?” she asked.

I wasn’t sure who ‘us’ even referred to. Was it me and her? Or was it her and her well-dressed cronies? I wanted to say something, even if it felt like I’d never be able to deduce the exact right phrase for this moment.

Instead I just spoke from the heart: “We’re desperate. I thought it was just me, but maybe we’re all desperate for something.”

She laughed, but it was a different kind of laugh then the cocky and amused bursts she had offered throughout the night. This felt more candid and sincere - maybe the kind of laugh she saved for moments when she was completely alone and didn’t need to think about how it would be perceived.

“We’re going back now,” she said. I nodded and released my tight grip on her as she released hers from me. I felt the dry softness of a plush towel being pressed against my skin as she carefully dried me off. I heard her the towel rubbing against her skin next before it finally flopped onto the ground.

“Take my hand.”

I did, and there was something different about the way that our hands linked. We were walking again, her guiding me through the mysterious landscape. The scent of the diaper trailed behind us, and I wondered what would become of it. Would she return later to discard it, or was it already in a bin? Or was that left to someone else - the same person who had to clean up after the mess I had left behind on the carpet.

Doors opened and doors closed. She pulled the blindfold from me when we reached the room again. She was wearing a white terry-cloth bathrobe, though I was still completely nude.

“You should get dressed,” she said.

I nodded and returned to my pile of discarded clothing and jewelry. My eyes scanned the room again, taking in the state of it all. Young Man and the woman’s chair were still positioned behind the folding table, which still held the opened black bag. The stack of cash still sat next to the bag. To the left, Bald Man’s chair, with First Man’s chair next to it. The wheeled IV pole near them, a pink enema bag still hanging from the top of it, with a white tube running from the bottom of it and dangling all the way down to the ground. Lastly, the wet and discolored patch of carpet. It was the hardest part of the room to look at - the person who made that spot was not the same person with clean damp skin putting on her panties again.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“I can’t discuss that with you,” she said.

“Can I have a name, at least?”

“I can’t give that to you,” she said with a sigh. She almost sounded upset at herself for having to say that.

“I want to come back.”

“You won’t be able to,” she said. “That’s a rule.”

“Well I don’t know what any of the rules are, then.”

“They’re not rules for you. They’re rules for us.”

I wanted to push harder. Part of me believed that I had found a weak spot in her armor, and that with more pressure I could get her to yield something to me.

But I let it go. There probably were rules. Rules to keep them safe. Rules to keep me safe. Rules to ensure that they had the ability to keep doing whatever it was that they did here, for whatever reason.

As I made the final adjustment to my reapplied bra, and as I buttoned up my blouse over it, I had fully crossed back into adulthood again. I was the same nervous woman who had initially stepped into this room with no idea what was coming.

“I’m leaving now,” the woman said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Is it always like this?” I asked, knowing that she likely wasn’t going to be able to answer any questions. My question was vague, but I would’ve accepted any answer to any interpretation of it.

“No,” she said.

I had anticipated more. A wave, or a ‘goodbye’ or some cryptic phrase that I’d forever have to dissect. But she had nothing more to say and she walked through the door, closing it behind her.

I walked to the table and looked inside the bag. More diapers. Various bottles of gels and oils. A paddle. Chains. Clamps. Ropes. Leather cuffs. Some sort of mask. Rubber sex toys in a number of strange varieities.

The cash almost seemed insulting at this point. I thought of how worked up I had become tonight. How much of my own dignity and agency I had sacrificed. I had shed my skin and learned more about myself than I had in years. My tantrum alone had cleansed my body of nearly six years worth of repressed feelings. Only to have my irregular therapists push some cash towards me and disappear?

I took the cash - a thick bundle in an amber-colored band. I ran my thumb over the edges, flipping through a stack of 100s. I didn’t know what this amounted to, but I suspected it was a lot more than I’ve had in a while. It felt dirty to take it but - as it turned out - I enjoyed that feeling. I pocketed the entire stack.

Lastly, I checked the door that my four hosts had used to enter and leave the room. Locked. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.

I treated myself to Indian on the trip home, exhausting the last few dollars on my debit card until I was able to make a deposit tomorrow. And when I got back to my apartment, I found a familiar face at the door.

“Marshmallow,” I said, acknowledging the cat. He sat there innocently, as if unaware that he had been gone all that long.

I didn’t ask where he’d been, as I was sick of asking questions that didn’t get answered. I let the both of us in, and minutes later, I was shoving pieces of paneer into my mouth as Marshmallow ate from an open can of wet cat food. My laptop was open, and I had a job search open in one tab, while the next ran a search for adult diapers.

The truth was that I truly didn’t believe that would be the end of the story. The woman, or maybe First Man - or, hell, even Bald Man - would find me. They’d be waiting outside my door one day, or they’d run into me on the street. They’d call me up one night. “Hey, we’d like for you to come back.”

None of it ever happened. The money went towards good things, mostly. I got another job, and the money that I hadn’t yet needed was once again stowed away for hopes and dreams. Too, that money was the last proof that I had that the night had ever occurred in the first place. Otherwise, I’d have spent too many mornings staring up at the ceiling while lying in bed, tring to decide if that had just been imagined or if I had just suddenly developed a rather intense diaper fetish.

That was fine. I could feel her tongue between my legs and fingers in my ass when I closed my eyes. Maybe that was enough.

I was becoming desperate again. I’d forever need my agency to be taken out of my hands.