The Boathouse [Tier 2 and 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

It’s not until he sees her interacting with other people that Toby realizes how little he actually knew about Moira.

This isn’t entirely surprising to him. Their arrangement is limited in scope–she was never going to think of him as her boyfriend or anything like that. Perhaps that was what was surprising about the night–that she invited him to this party as her guest at all. She had always rebuked his requests to spend time together outside of their homes in the past. He couldn’t remember her exact phrasing, but he did recall her once saying something along the lines of: “I’d much rather never be seen in public with you.”

Now, she was leading conversations with groups of strangers. She was delighting them. Making them laugh. Commanding the conversation. She had an amazing way with people. He had seen some of that, at a much smaller scale, but it was fascinating seeing it in action at this level.

Toby isn’t a fool. Well, no more a fool than he chooses to be. He knows why he’s at this party. He’s not arm candy, and he certainly isn’t being toted along to make other men jealous. He is there for her personal entertainment. He’s an accessory. A toy to periodically check in on and laugh at.

“When I look across the room,” she had said to him as they drove here, “I want to see you stumbling around awkwardly in a sea of strangers. Blushing as brightly as your pretty pink diapers because you think someone might hear them crinkle.”

Mission accomplished. He catches her eyes glancing in his direction while she laughs with a group of people. Sexy women. Handsome men. The kind of men he wishes he was one of. Men who looked like men, not perpetual toddlers with boyish faces. Girl-ish faces, if Moira was to be believed.

The diaper–yeah, that was tough to navigate with. It was bulky, loud, and his jeans were simply not designed to contain them–he could barely keep them pulled over the padding. Worse, his button-up plaid shirt simply wasn’t long enough to reliably hang past the waist band. And so this was his struggle for the evening–a perpetual game of tug-of-war between his shirt and pants to make sure his diaper was concealed.

It could’ve been worse–she threatened panties too. She eventually conceded that a diaper was probably enough, but that decision was hers and hers alone. He had barely made an effort to talk her out of that, mostly because he knew she wouldn’t care what his opinion was.

“You look lost,” someone says to him.

“Huh?”

A fiery red-head in a t-shirt that reads “Diiv,” whatever that is, is standing behind him with a tiki glass in her hand.

“You lost, little boy?”

He feels his cheeks flare a little. Little boy hits a little too close for comfort.

“N-no,” he says, looking back across the room at Moira–but she’s deep in conversation with a rather buff fellow in a backwards hat.

“I’m just teasing,” she says. “I’m somehow always the person who gets dragged to parties where I don’t know anyone else. My friend swore I’d have a good time with her here, but…I haven’t seen her since I got here.”

“That’s kind of relatable,” he says. He takes a deep breath. For now, he’s got this.

“I figured,” she says. “I can spot the other social outcasts.”

“Toby,” he says, offering a polite wave.

“Shelley. So, who dragged you here?”

He begins scanning the room for Moira, but stops himself. He’s not Moira’s date, and he imagines that pointing her out would send the wrong signals.

“Just my friend,” he says, shrugging. “Seems to be the theme, huh? Drag a friend to the party and leave them high and dry?”

She laughs, and he finds it to be a really pleasurable sound. Possibly because whenever he hears Moira laughing, she’s laughing at him.

“If I’m being honest,” she says, “part of me thinks that my friend does this on purpose. It’s like…I dunno, pushing a baby bird off a building so it learns how to fly. She’s hoping I meet some guy so I stop complaining about being single.”

“Could be,” he says. “But it might also be like when you drive a dog out to the middle of the woods and you let them out, get back in the car and speed away without them.”

Her eyes grow wide and she holds up a hand to her mouth. “Jeez Louise. And people tell me that I’m a pessimist.”

He gives an exaggerated shrug and chuckles, hoping to convey his sarcasm. He’s never been all that social of a person, and he wonders how much longer he can fake it.

“Nah, I get it,” she says. “I get it from everyone, you know? My friend. My mom. My sister. It’s like they need me to get hitched and start churning out babies like some sort of factory. And, so I’m never sure when they’re just giving me a helpful push in what they think is the right direction, or when they’re just…giving up on me.”

To be quite honest, he’s not sure what this has to do with the awkward analogy he tried to make, but he nods anyway.

“Ah, whatever,” she says. “This is a party, right? Not therapy. Have you been in the backyard?”

“No, not yet,” he says.

“The property backs up to the lake. There’s a little boathouse and everything. I was going to check it out, you want to tag along?”

He looks back towards where Moira was the last time he saw her, but she’s gone now, as is the guy with the backwards hat.

“Yeah, I’m in. Let’s go.”

Shelley, as it turns out, is a talker. He’s tempted to be annoyed by it, mostly because it’s so contrary to his more reserved nature. It’s actually nice, however. There’s no awkward silences or blank spaces left where he’s supposed to rekindle the conversation by asking inane questions. She just keeps talking, occasionally asking questions–not so much because she’s curious, but because she seeks springboards for new topics to talk about. In a brief amount of time, he knows not only where she bought her shoes, but why she didn’t wear the green shoes she bought the weekend before specifically for this party.

He doesn’t fool himself. Yes, it’s nice to have some positive female attention for once. Attention that’s not based around his humiliation and embarrassment. But there’s no love connection or blooming crush. In her own way, Shelley is also just using Toby. She needs someone to talk to. Rant to. Someone to follow her around nodding for a little bit.

It’s not a long walk to the boathouse. Long enough, though, that he feels like he knows more about Shelley than he does Moira by the time they arrive.

“Do you hear that?” she asks.

He blushes, thankful that the dark of the night conceals it. Has she heard his diaper crinkling? He had almost forgotten about that cursed thing in his pants.

“No,” he says. “What, uh, do you hear?”

“In the boathouse,” she says. “People.”

He sighs in relief, almost laughing. “I guess that shouldn’t be too surprising. There’s a lot of people here.”

“Right, but I just thought it sounded like…”

There’s a muffled moan coming from within the boathouse. Toby and Shelley look at each other, both wide-eyed and mouths agape.

“Someone’s having a good night,” she says.

“That’s some balls, right there.”

“Wanna go see if we can take a peek?” she asks slyly.

“What? We can’t just go over there and… What if they’re, like, fucking?”

“If you’re going to sneak off at a party and bone in the boathouse, you deserve to get peeked at,” she reasons.

He doesn’t completely agree with this logic, but he does some quick calculations and predicts that it would be less awkward to tag along with her wild idea than it would be to disengage from her company and run back to the house alone.

Plus, sure, he was a little curious about seeing some strangers having sex in the boathouse.

“Down there,” Shelley says as they reach the entrance to the boathouse. Before them is the balcony for a small loft that overlooks the lower level that houses the actual boats. It’s from this lower level that they hear another masculine moan.

“Fuck,” the man’s voice says. “You’re good at that.”

“Don’t be so fucking greedy,” another man says. “I want some too.”

Toby and Shelley exchange another surprised look before carefully shimmying towards the edge of the loft’s railing.

Toby looks over the edge to the dock below where three figures are clustered in the dim light of the boathouse. One is on their hands and knees, mouth lodged between the man’s legs. The other man just watches.

It’s the man’s backwards hat that wipes the smile off of Toby’s face. He had seen that hat before–the man talking to Moira inside earlier. He takes a closer look at the figure between the two men, quite sure that he’s seeing Moira’s gold top billowing as she sucks off the guy in the hat.

“Moira,” Toby says. He means to say it to himself, and probably not out loud, but it’s too late for that now.

“You know her?” Shelley whispers.

“She’s my…friend.”

It’s the other man on the lower level of the boathouse–the one not getting his cock sucked–that hears something that draws his attention to the balcony.

“Hey,” he says. “Who’s up there?”

“Someone’s up there?” Hat-guy asks.

“Yeah, look. Two of ‘em. Just fucking standing there.”

“We…should probably get going,” Toby mutters softly to Shelley.

“Sorry,” Shelley shouts down to them. “We, uh, just heard some noise in here and we… Well, we’ll get out of your hair.”

There’s no immediate response, which Toby takes to mean is an opportunity to leave the boathouse without further conversation. He’s already spun around and he’s about to start walking out.

“Toby?” asks a feminine voice from the lower deck. Moira.

He closes his eyes and mutters a profanity under his breath. “Y-yeah,” he says. “Sorry. We…didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Toby, come down here. Bring your friend.”

“Well, we…”

But he looks over to Shelley, only to see that she’s already trotting down the stairs. Dammit. He takes a deep long breath–and then another just to be safe–and slowly follows.

“Looks like we’ve all met some new friends tonight,” Moira says as Toby steps onto the lower level.

“You know them?” asks the guy without a hat.

“I know him,” Moira says, pointing at Toby.

“This is Shelley,” Toby says.

Shelley offers a friendly wave. “Hi, everyone! Nice to meet you. Sorry, this is usually the part where I say that I’ve heard so many great things about you but, you know, me and Toby just met a few minutes ago and we were taking a walk and then we…”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Moira says, cutting off the story. “This is Kurt and Bill. They’re friends of mine.”

“Friends with some benefits,” the man with the hat–Kurt, apparently, says while making thrusting motions with his hips.

Toby’s never heard of them before, but he figures he probably wouldn’t have. Moira tends to keep most details about herself close to the chest. He assumed she was seeing other people, but the real question was whether or not they played the same game with her as he was.

“What’s he, your boyfriend or something?” Bill asks.

Moira laughs, shaking her head. “No. Fuck no. He’s a friend.”

Toby is thankful, and a little surprised, to hear her use the word ‘friend.’ There are much, much, words she could’ve used.

“You suck his dick too?” Kurt asks, smiling smugly.

“Is that what you think I do all day?” Moira asks, some frustration in her tone. “Suck cocks?”

“I was just making a damn joke,” Kurt says, shrugging. “Lighten up.”

Something has changed in Moira’s eyes, and everyone on the dock can sense it. She was slighted and offended, and she now looks eager to prove that she’s not the one at the bottom of the totem pole. There’s someone more deserving of being teased and humiliated.

“I would never suck his cock,” Moira says, pointing at Toby. “It isn’t worth my time. Or talent.”

“Hey…” says Shelley, hands on her hips. She steps forward, ready to defend her new friend.

“Look, you’re very sweet for thinking he is worth defending,” Moira says, trying to stifle a giggle. “But do you even know what he’s wearing under his pants?”

Toby speaks so softly that barely anyone can hear his words: “Moira, please don’t do this.” Regardless, the sentiment is clear–Moira is opening a can of worms.

“Why?” asks Bill. “What’s he got on under his pants?”

“N-nothing,” Toby says, stepping back from the group.

But everyone is looking at him now, studying him. They’re trying to imagine what sort of secret is being kept in his pants. No doubt, they all have theories. They’re probably all wrong, too.

“So, wait. Who is this guy?” asks Kurt.

“I dunno,” Moira says, looking to Toby while shrugging. “How would you describe our relationship? Maybe not friends, though I guess we’re probably closer to ‘friends with benefits’ than we are anything else. Perhaps…’no strings attached play pal?’ It’s a bit wordy.”

“Can we stop beating around the bush?” Bill says. “Show us what’s in your fucking pants.”

“Moira, don’t make me,” Toby says. “I…I don’t want to show them.”

She just shrugs. “I’m not going to make you do anything. You and I both know why you’re at this party at all.”

He knows exactly what she means, but he has no idea how he’d ever explain that to these strangers. They don’t know about the days spent crawling around her feet in a diaper. The humiliating tasks she has him perform for her entertainment. They don’t know about how badly he needs to feel humiliated at her hands.

They don’t know that this, this conversation taking place now, is just another game of theirs. In this game, a choice is presented. And Moira pretends to take herself out of the equation by saying that it’s not her choice to make. But the truth is that there’s a correct answer. And Toby chooses the wrong answer… Well, that’s game over. Moira takes her toys and goes home.

“Maybe we just head back to the house,” Shelley says to Toby.

Bless her, she’s still in his corner. But she shouldn’t be–he’s throwing this fight.

When all things are weighed–Moira’s approval, his humiliation in front of strangers, and the kindness of Shelley–it’s Moira that comes out on top. He’s not ready to give up what they have, and he’s disappointed in himself for how willing he is to cede this sort of agency to her.

“No, it’s okay,” he says to Shelley. “I…I can show you all.”

He doesn’t look up at their faces. He doesn’t need to see Moira’s snide grin or Bill and Kurt’s hungry eyes. He just stares down at his pants and takes a deep breath.

“Panties,” says Bill. “It’s got to be panties, right?”

“Probably,” Kurt says, laughing. “Fucking sissy.”

Toby quickly shoves his pants down towards his knees, but he continues to stare down at the wooden dock. He can see the water gently moving beneath the boards, and that’s what he chooses to focus on–not the looks and reactions of everyone around him.

“Holy shit,” Kurt says. “Not panties. Is that a fucking…”

Shelley is the one to finish that thought. “Diaper. Yeah, it’s a diaper.”

Toby can hear it in Shelley’s voice immediately: the sound of losing all respect for him.

“Well, it is a pink diaper,” Bill says. “I’d say that still makes him a sissy.”

“Oh, he’s a sissy, alright,” Moira says. “You’re not wrong about that.”

“Diapers?” Kurt says. “Fucking diapers? Shit.”

“I don’t get it,” says Shelley. “He’s into, like, wearing diapers?”

“Well he doesn’t just wear them,” Moira says. “But yes. If you want to be specific, he’s into humiliation. Diapers are just the vessel to get him there.”

“Come here,” Bill says. “Can I get a better look?”

Toby begins to take a few small shuffling steps in the direction of the men, pants still around his legs, but he’s stopped by Moira’s outstretched hands.

“You can do better than that,” she says. “If we were at my place and asked you to come to me so I could check your diaper, how would you approach me?”

“Well… I’d probably crawl.”

“And?”

“I…wouldn’t be wearing pants. B-but we’re not at your place and…”

“Nuh-uh,” says Kurt. “You heard the woman. Pants off, baby. Get over here on your hands and knees.”

Moira is beaming. Positively radiating. As thrilling as the idea of sucking off both of these men in the boathouse was for, Toby’s suspects that she much prefers this as the evening’s entertainment.

Even Shelley seems transfixed by what she sees. He wondered if she’d leave or act disgusted, but neither seems to be true. She looks curious and interested.

“Come on, hurry up,” Bill says. “Or Mommy’s gonna sp*nk you. …Right?”

Moira laughs. “It sounds like you want to see that?”

Bill shrugs, though his smile seems like enough of an answer.

Toby kicks off his shoes and shimmies the rest of his way out of his pants. He continues to instinctively pull at the bottom of his shirt, only to realize that it probably doesn’t matter anymore. Slowly, he lowers himself to the dock–first dropping to his knees and then letting his upper half bend over so that he’s on his hands and knees. It’s a position that Moira has him well-trained in–he knows to keep his ass up in the air so that his thick diaper is on display as he crawls forward.

His crawling is definitely a crowd-pleaser.

“So,” Shelley says, a little hesitation still in her voice, “you said that you…check his diaper?”

“That’s right.”

“So he…”

“Uses them?” asks Moira, laughing. “Oh yeah. Otherwise it’d be a waste of diapers, you know? They’re made to be used.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Kurt says. “He pisses himself?”

“Oh he does a lot worse than just peeing his diapers. Don’t you, baby?”

Toby only offers a little sigh as he crawls closer to the other men. They descend upon him like vultures, playfully slapping and poking the bulky plastic diaper.

“Can you even believe this?” Bill asks Toby.

“So goddamn pathetic.”

“Is he going to do it now?” Bill asks. “Shit his diapers in front of us?”

Moira laughs. “Is that something you want to see?”

“Just curious, I guess.”

“I cleaned him out before we came here,” Moira says. “He had a nice soapy enema. I thought it’d be a good idea to make sure he didn’t have any stinky britches while we were at the party. But had I known that this was going to happen, maybe I would’ve held off.”

“Well, look,” Kurt says to Moira. “No offense, but I don’t think I want you sucking my cock anymore.”

Moira seems unsurprised by this. “No? But your cock still needs sucking, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does.”

“You think there’s another pair of willing lips around here?” Bill asks.

“Well, Baby Toby and I have talked about him learning how to please a man before. It’s a goal of his, actually. Isn’t that right?”

She speaks the truth, though Toby isn’t about to admit this aloud himself.

“He’s being a little bashful,” Moira continues. “But I promise you, he’s a good little sissy. Stick something in front of his mouth, and he’ll figure out what to do with it.”

Kurt certainly doesn’t need any further invitation. He was already in the middle of unzipping his pants while she was still talking.

“Come here, you little bitch. Daddy’s got a bottle for you.”

Bill just about doubles over with laughter. Moira just shakes her head as she turns to Shelley.

“You want in on this? He’s been trained to eat out my pussy like a professional.”

Shelley laughs. “I don’t think so. Well…not here.”

“Give me your number,” Moira says. “I’ll have to have you over sometime.”

Their conversation continues behind him, though Toby is forced to focus only on what is happening in front of him. Kurt has pulled his cock from his pants, and even in its semi-firm state, it’s still a humbling sight to behold.

“Never had a guy suck me off,” Kurt says to Bill.

“Not sure someone wearing pink diapers qualifies as a guy,” Bill replies.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Whatever you boys need to tell yourselves so you get your dicks sucked,” Moira says, butting in. “He could be dressed like a fucking football player, and if he was on his knees in front of you, you’d still stick your cock in his mouth.”

“Yeah…” Kurt says, laughing. “That’s probably true too.”

“Don’t be shy,” Moira says to the hesitating Toby. “Get in there.”

It’s everything he’s been curious about, but at the wrong time. This isn’t the scenario he imagined when he fantasized about Moira making suck off another man while he wore his diapers. It wasn’t supposed to be in a boathouse with a group of strangers, while a party was raging a few yards again.

But he leans forward anyways. Moira has that sort of effect on him. Had she told him to streak across the party in just his diaper, he would likely do that too.

One more deep breath, and Toby was ready. He leans forward, mouth open and ready to receive Kurt. Kurt, however, is ready to take charge of the situation himself. His hands grasp both sides of Toby’s head, and guides his mouth onto his shaft. From there, most of the work is taken out of Toby’s hands–he’s just a mouth.

“It’s a shame,” Moira says, strutting forward to where Toby is getting mouth-fucked by Kurt. “I wish we had known he’d be putting a little show on tonight. He could’ve shown you how much his diaper could hold. It’s quite a bit.”

Bill shrugs, scratching at his crotch through his pants. “I mean, I’m pretty tempted to see how much it could hold.”

Moira laughs. “Yeah? You want to…”

“I had to take a piss anyways,” he says. “Maybe I can borrow his diaper for a minute there.”

“Come here,” Moira says, waving Bill over to Toby. “I’ll hold open the back of his diaper. All you have to do is piss.”

And this was how Toby found himself occupied at both ends–his face being worked up and down Kurt’s rock-hard shaft, while the back of his diaper was held open so that Bill could piss into it. It was sensory overload, an all-consuming assault on his senses that left him feeling a little disconnected from reality. It didn’t matter that he was in the boathouse at a party. It didn’t matter that Shelley–whoever the hell she was–was standing over there watching.

It’s hard to say how the timing worked out like this–maybe it took Bill a few minutes to work up the ability to piss into another man’s diaper, or maybe Kurt found so much bliss in maneuvering Toby’s head on his cock that he couldn’t stretch his stamina out any longer–but they both managed to fill him up at about the same time. All at once, Kurt was exploding into Toby’s mouth while the diaper swelled and sagged with Bill’s warm stream.

“Don’t worry,” Moira said, putting a hand on Toby’s shoulder. “I’m recording all of this on my phone so I can show you later. Trust me, you’re not going to want to miss this.”

Both men stepped away from Toby at about the same time as well, both admiring their handy work. Left on his hands and knees still, Toby felt the heavy and bloated diaper swaying between his thighs, while the remnants of Kurt’s load trickled from his lips–the rest already in his belly.

“It’s not what I thought we were going to do tonight,” Kurt said to Moira. “But I’ll take it.”

“And you?” Moira asks Bill. “Did you want to employ the sissy’s services?”

Bill is thinking about it for a moment.

“I think there’s people coming,” Shelley says, pointing to the upper-level of the boathouse.

“Next-time,” Bill says. “You’ll have to bring him to another party.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” Moira says. “Tonight vastly exceeded my expectations.”

“I’m going to grab a beer,” Kurt says. “Want one?”

“Let’s go,” Bill says.

“I’ll join you,” Moira adds.

And that’s it. The men finish zipping up their pants and they head back up the steps with Moira, leaving Toby behind–still on his hands and knees.

“Here,” Shelley says, carrying over his pants and shoes and putting them next to him.

“Th-thanks.”

He slowly stands up, feeling the heavy diaper slosh beneath him. He’s still kind of dumbfounded by everything that just transpired.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. I think so.”

It occurs to him that he’s wearing another man’s piss. And that taste in his mouth? That’s from yet another man.

“Do you have, uhm, more diapers?” she asks. “That one looks kind of…full.”

“In the car, I think,” he says.

He doesn’t ‘think,’ he knows. There are more in his ‘diaper bag,’ which she insisted he bring with him and stow in the car. ‘Just in case of accidents.’ This probably wasn’t the accident she was thinking of when she said that, but she was probably right to have brought the bag.

He looks up to the balcony above them in the boathouse as he quickly pulls his pants up. “Are there people still coming?”

Shelley shrugs. “I made that up to give you a little reprieve.”

He laughs, blushing a little. “I appreciate that. After I, uh, get a change at the car… Maybe we get another drink?”

“I’d like that,” she says. “But don’t think that you’re off the hook about the diaper thing. I have a lot more questions about that.”

He sighs. “I bet.”

Later, a new drink in hand and a new bright pink diaper in his pants, he scans the room again while Shelley is telling him a long-winded story. He spots Moira, amidst a new group of strangers. She smiles and nods towards him. He can’t help but blush again, but he’s smiling too.

All things considered, he’s happy he came. He wouldn't mind going to more parties with Moira if they're all like this.