Bottoms Up, Part 8 (Patreon)

Eight: Nursery

“It smells like paint,” she said. “Is that the project? Are you repainting the store?”

“Not all of it.”

The back door closed behind him and he flipped on the lights of the stockroom. Harper immediately turned her attention to the changing table, pulled out from the nursery.

“Ah,” she said. “Is that what this is? Renovations for the Baby Room?”

“I needed a distraction,” he said. “Once I’m done, I’m sure the room will go just as unused as it is now.”

“Let’s see,” she said, walking into the room and turning on the light. “Okay, well I like the paint color. What other changes were you looking to make?”

“I bought a mirror for the inside of the door. Maybe I’ll upgrade the changing table - get one of those custom-built fellas? I’ll stock the shelf in here with wipes, powder, etc. Maybe hang a mobile? Get some stuffed animals? I’m winging it.”

“I’m not picturing it,” she said, stroking her chin. “So, like, where would the changing table go, ideally?”

“Over in that corner. Opposite of the one it was in before, I think.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “Could we put it there now? I just want to picture what it would look like.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a shrug.

It was probably easy enough to move with just one person - he had gotten it out of the room by himself earlier - but it was even easier with two. They carried it into the room and placed it down.

Harper stepped back and tilted her head, seeming to try and see what the finished project would look like. “Yeah, okay. I’m seeing it now. With that wall color? And the changing table here? I think that makes more sense.”

“Alright, good,” he said, letting out a sigh of relief. She had always been the better decorator and her approval carried a lot of weight.

“Actually,” she said, “maybe the placement of the changing table isn’t perfect.”

“No?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say without seeing a person on the table. Like, I feel like having a body on the table is going to change the aesthetics a little. That’s an important thing to consider.”

“So, would it help if I, like, laid down on top of it?”

“Oh, for sure. That would help a lot, actually.”

He did so, climbing atop the converted bench, lying down on his back. It reminded him of a few days earlier, during the night spent at the shop. But with her here, it reminded him of days long past.

“Does that help?” he asked.

She laughed, and he laughed in response.

“No, not really.”

“No? Why not?”

“I mean, I just see a fully dressed man laying on a table in what I’m supposed to imagine is a nursery of some sort. It’s not working for me.”

“Okay, so what would help?”

“If I’m supposed to imagine a baby laying on this table, then I think I need to see a baby.”

“Interesting,” said Layne. “Should I go...find one?”

“No, no,” she replied. “Not at this hour of the night, anyways. We’ll have to do with what we have.”

“So…”

“So, take off your pants, big boy. We need to make sure this room is going to look alright with a baby in it.”

This suggestion itself was a surprise to neither - both knew where this was going when Layne had first suggested that they take a drive. The surprise was just how into it both were. Both had suspected the other would be hesitant or wary of actually going through with this.

He unfastened his pants and pushed them down his legs, boxer briefs included. She stood near the other end of the table, catching the crumpled mass of cloth and helping lead them down the remainder of his legs.

Just like old times. Just like riding a bike. Just like taking the pants off of your husband so you could put him in a diaper.

It had been a while since she had last seen his cock. If it hadn’t been two years, it had to have been incredibly close. It hung to the side, semi-inflated - as if waiting for the go-ahead to fully stand at attention. She didn’t give that permission. Not yet.

“Choice of diaper?” she asked.

“There’s an open pack of Carnivals in the stock room,” he said. “Or, whatever, lady’s choice.”

“I’ll take a look around. Be right back - don’t go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

True to her word, she wasn’t gone all that long. She rummaged around the shelves quickly before tearing open a plastic package, drawing a single diaper from it.

“The Peach Bottoms,” he said, seeing the peach-colored diaper in her hand as she returned to the nursery. Undersellers, though a style he had always been a fan of himself.

“Legs up,” she said.

She probably didn’t even have to say anything, his legs were already in motion as the words came from her mouth. She slid the diaper under him, and he automatically knew when to lower himself atop it. She pulled it through his legs, taping the sides and sealing him into it. She even gave him a playful pat on the padded bottom before stepping back.

“Okay,” he said. “How about now? Does this help you picture the finished Nursery better?”

“Hmm,” she mused, stroking her chin. “We’re getting closer. I think you need to look...smaller. More babyish.”

“More? Any suggestions?”

“You’ll need to lose the shirt, for starters.”

She unbuttoned his shirt before helping him to wiggle his way from it and the black tee underneath. They were added to the pile with his pants on the ground. Then, catching a spot she missed before, she pulled his socks from off of his feet.

“Now we’re talking,” she said. “Baby Puddles, in just his little diaper.”

That name was another blast from the past.

Up until now this had been cute. A fun diversion from the soul-crushing despair of the future. But the deeper into this game they had gotten, the more he could feel itches getting scratched that hadn’t been for some time. More than that - it was getting reacquainted with an old friend he had seen in years. One of those old friends he thought it would be super-awkward to try and converse with all these years later. Yet, within seconds, they were carrying on as if no time had passed.

Hello, Baby Puddles. I’ve missed you.

“Is somebody feeling very little?” cooed Harper, looking down at him as he stretched out in the changing table - her words broken down into musical syllables. Her fingers playfully danced up his chest. “I can tell.”

He wanted, badly, to say something snarky or sarcastic. Something very Layne. But there was nothing that could be said that wouldn’t ruin this moment, and he wanted this moment to last for as long as possible.

“I know a thing or two about this little baby boy,” she said softly. “I know the things he likes. Well, I knew what he used to like. But I bet that he still has the same, uh, tastes now. Is that right?”

He nodded immediately, not even certain that he knew what she was referring to. But as she began to pull off her top, his eyes lit up with comprehension. His mouth watered. She didn’t remove her bra, she had just pulled her left breast from it, letting it hang openly before her.

“Yes?” she asked, watching his face grow more and more excited. “Would you like this? Do you want to be fed, little one?”

He stopped just short of thrusting his head up to bite at her chest like he was some sort of diapered piranha. There had been a lot of things that he missed about ‘the good old days,’ but most of those things could be reproduced in some way by himself - wearing diapers, crawling around, etc. But this was an experience he truly believed he’d just never get to have again.

She lowered her chest down to his face slowly, until he could just barely reach it when he strained his neck. It didn’t stop him - he would’ve turned his head round 180 degrees if it meant he could taste her nipple again. That perfect teardrop shape with the flesh button on the end, how he missed it. His lips enveloped it, suckling on it loudly. They both moaned.

Her hand reached between his legs, grasping the firming lump in the front of the diaper. Permission granted. He was hard as a rock and throbbing in her hand as she stroked him through the bulky padding.

“Does the little baby like this?”

He unleashed a groan that could only be described as positive-sounding.

“Do you remember when we used to do this all the time?”

He nodded.

“Come,” she said. “Sit with me.”

She stood up, pulling her breast from his mouth. His lips made a final weak attempt to reach up and grasp her nipple, but it was already too far away. She left her shirt off, and left the nursery, unfastening her bra and letting it fall to the ground as she did. He quickly sat up on the table, swinging his legs off the side before sliding off to follow.

But he didn’t walk to her. He could’ve - and she certainly hadn’t asked him to do anything else - but he could remember the way that this used to go. When she summoned her baby, her baby crawled. And so he crawled from the nursery, across the stockroom, and to where Harper had taken a seat along the far wall. Her legs were splayed open, a welcome invitation to return to a figurative-womb. He spun himself around, sitting between her legs with his back to her, letting her wrap her arms around him and pull him in close.

There was a momentary thought about how often Effie swept the floor like he had once asked her too, but that faded away quickly, making more room for Baby Layne to be present.

“Isn’t this nice?” she asked.

He offered some sort of content moan.

“I missed this.”

Her hands slowly slid down his bare chest and stomach - a few extra pounds of soft baby fat since the last time she had probably done something like this - until they had reached his diaper. She gently squeezed at it, feeling the padding squish beneath her fingers.

There was something about diapers - the psychological expectation of diapers - that had embedded itself in his psyche just as much as potty training had. While outside of diapers, he had all the control he could ever need. In diapers, his body knew what the end result was going to be and it was well-trained to make it happen.

So he wet himself while her hands were on his diaper.

“Oh gosh, Baby Puddles. Are you actually…”

Another affirmative moan.

“It’s so warm,” she said softly into his ear. “Keep going. Really fill that diaper and live up to your name.”

It was out of his control now, but she was going to get exactly what she wanted.

“Do you remember Lake George?” she asked. She didn’t wait for a response. “We thought we were the only ones at the campsite for days. We could go anywhere and do anything we wanted, and there didn’t seem to be a soul there to see it.”

He nodded.

“And there was that rec center there, with the pool table and the arcade games and the jukebox. And you played that Stone Temple Pilots song like 18 times in a row.”

“Plush,” he said with a laugh, further melting into her hands as she rubbed his diaper.

“I dared you to take your pants off and keep them off, right? For the rest of the week. Just you and your diaper. And you did it. Because you were such a good baby. And you waddled around in your sagging diaper? Mommy had to keep changing you because you couldn’t keep a diaper dry for more than an hour at a time.”

There was a lot more that she could probably have said, but he knew the stories just as well. In the silence that followed, he was transported back to that final full day of camping. Three or four days of almost exclusively using diapers in the woods had finally become second nature and little thought had been given about concealing it. They had returned to the rec center for a last game, or five, of pool. He hadn’t just emptied his bowels into his diaper - he had been rather belligerent about it too, making an entire production out of bending over and loudly filling his pants. All fun and games, of course, until he learned - moments too late - that another couple had finally shown up to the campground and had thought to stop in the rec center at that exact moment.

He thought of this as a very good memory.

“You can still be my baby,” she said at last.

He considered these words carefully, as their meaning wasn’t immediately discernible. He could interpret them as meaning that she had stopped wanting him to be her baby, and that she had since changed her mind and decided to allow for it again. Or, he could still be her baby - after whatever came next.

That was it, he realized. Finality. An end loomed in the distance, and they were now talking about after.

“Will you have other babies?” he asked.

“Oh, maybe. If they want to be.”

“Syd?”

“Hmm, yes. I think so,” she said.

“Really?”

“I think they’re curious. Maybe it’s just because they think it would please me if they tried - and they’re right. But I wouldn’t doubt their own curiosity.”

“Take some diapers home,” he said.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“Well, I mean, that was my original thought too. But maybe we get that nursery finished and I bring them here?”

He laughed. “Yes, please. Let’s bring some purpose to that closet before Effie convinces me to make it a break room.”

“What about you?” she asked. “No special ladies on the horizon that you want to change your diaper?”

“I’ve got a little project I’m working on,” he said. “Though I don’t think she’ll be the Mommy type.”

“No?”

He shrugged. “We’ll see. But...if you and I can stay on good terms, maybe I can get your help?”

She laughed at this, not even able to imagine what he had in mind. “When you need me, let me know. For now? What if we do something about this diaper?”

“No,” he said. “It can hold more.”

“So we’re going to sit here all night and wait until you think it’s full enough to change?”

He shrugged.

“What about this?” she said. “I’ll help you finish painting the Nursery. Then? You get a diaper change. And then we go home.”

“Seems fair.”

“So until we’re done painting,” she said, “do your worst.” She gave his diaper another squeeze, this time catching the tip of his firm shaft within. “Oh. I almost forgot about this.”

“It’s not really your responsibility. I mean...you certainly don’t owe me any…”

“Always such a chatty little boy,” she taunted. She reached around him with her left hand, pressing a thumb against his lips until he opened his mouth and let in. Her right hand slipped into the front of his diaper, grasping his shaft before gently stroking it.

“Yow thon’t haff tah…”

“When a thumb is in your mouth, Baby, you just suck on it. It means no more talking. Just let Mommy take care of you.”

And when he finally came in his diaper, that was when they finished painting the nursery. He was absolutely sure that he’d never walk into that room again without thinking about this night.