Crawling Back for More [Tier 2 and 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

He is well aware of the fact that what he’s doing is stupid. Not just stupid–but it’s quite possibly one of the worst ideas he’s ever had before. The odds are good that this isn’t going to end well–and not ending ‘well’ is just the best case scenario.

But he’s doing it anyway. He can’t not do it–the idea has been embedded in his head for days now. Weeks. It’s become all-consuming. It’s all he can think about, and it’s getting in the way of everything else in his life. He has to do something about it–if only so that he can move on.

Move on. A laughable concept. He told himself once before that he was moving on. And yet here he is–crawling back for more. Not literally–not yet. But that would probably happen at some point.

He has one final opportunity to walk away–when he’s at Lindsey’s door. Instead of knocking, all he has to do is pivot on his heel, walk back down the steps, get into his car, and drive away. Sure, she was expecting him, but all it would take is a simple text letting her know that he changed his mind, and that would be that.

But he knocks instead. As much as wishes he could just walk away–he can’t.

The door opens, and Lindsey is standing there, arms folded in front of her as she smirks and shakes her head.

“I can’t believe you actually came,” she says. “Well, no, I can believe it. I just didn’t think you actually would. Need it that bad, do you?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his dark brown hair. “Yeah…”

“I knew this would happen,” she says. “Hell, didn’t I tell you that this was going to happen the last time you were here?”

“Uh, yeah, I think you said something like that.”

“See, this is why I haven’t gotten rid of anything. Because I knew you’d be back.”

“Maybe I could just come in and we can…”

“Get started?” she asks, cutting him off. She laughs and shakes her head. “Bobby, I’m not a fucking fetish dispenser. Are we not friends?”

This was a tricky question to answer. No…he didn’t think they were friends. But the last thing he wanted to say aloud–or even to himself–was that he saw Lindsey as just a ‘fetish dispenser.’

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just…nervous.”

“Come inside,” she says, her hand outstretched and waving him in.

But he only takes one step forward when she stops him with an open palm.

“But you said…”

“If you’re coming into my house, you’re going to crawl inside. Like the baby you came here to be.”

He looks to his left and then his right. Here, on this busy suburban street, cars are constantly driving past. People are walking up and down the sidewalk. And with the front porch of Lindsey’s home being so close to the street, there’s no way that people wouldn’t see him crawling.

“I don’t know why you care about what anyone else thinks,” she says. “I thought you liked the idea of being exposed.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Just crawl inside. And consider how lucky you are for me not making you take your pants off first.”

“Y-yes, Lindsey.”

“Nuh-uh. We both know that’s not what you’re supposed to be calling me.”

“Yes, uhm, Mommy.”

There seems little point in arguing with her. She’s in control–as she always is. As he wants her to be. He drops to his knees and leans forward so his hands are on the ground too. Then, he crawls–just like he knew he would have to.

“Can I stand up?” he asks after she closes the door.

“No,” she says bluntly. “Just stay on your hands and knees until I say otherwise.”

It’s been a while since he’s been back here. For the most part, everything is where he remembered it being. Though, it looks like there’s a new couch where the old one used to be. A new TV–something much larger than the old shrimpy thing they used to watch movies on together.

And–while he’s so low to the ground–his eyes wander to the shoe-rack by the door. Walking shoes, boots, flats–about what he’d expect. But that’s not all that’s there. There’s bigger boots too–work boots. And a pair of sneakers–well worn and far too big for Lindsey’s petite feet.

He knows he should keep his mouth shut–he probably doesn’t want the answer. But he asks anyway: “Are you living with someone else now?”

She laughs as she follows his eyes to the large shoes. “Very perceptive for a baby.”

“Is he, uhm, here?”

“No,” she says. “Lucky for you. He’s out of town for a few days.”

“Is it, uh, serious?”

“Serious enough that we’re engaged,” she says. “I’d show you my ring, but I took it off. Didn’t want to get it dirty today.”

That comment turns his cheeks a very nice shade of pink.

“I didn’t know.”

“Aw, are you not on the mailing list for the newsletter that goes over every detail of my life? Strange. I wonder why I wouldn’t send it to my ex-boyfriend.”

“I just thought that, maybe…”

“I don’t owe you anything, Bobby. I don’t owe you today, that’s for damn sure. The only reason I agreed to today is because it was something I wanted to do.”

“But why? I didn’t think that you liked this.”

“You’re not completely wrong. No, I never cared much for changing diapers and bottle feeding. But nothing has ever thrilled me quite like seeing that pathetic look on your face when you were bled dry of every drop of dignity. And, you know, with the wedding approaching, it’ll be nice to experience this one last time.”

“Last?”

“Afraid so, Baby. I’m off to start my own family, and I don’t see a baby of your size fitting into the picture. But you being here today is good. It’s like a wedding gift. And…a baby shower gift.”

“Baby shower? Are you…”

“Yep,” she says, rubbing the small bubble that has formed below her breasts. “Got one in the oven already. I figure if I can deal with you, a real baby is going to be a piece of cake. I’d say today is going to be practice, but…I won’t ever treat my child the way that I want to treat you.”

That comment hits him hard, and he feels a wave of nervous pleasure rip through his body.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “This has to be the last time?”

“Absolutely positive, Bobby. But I’m sure there are other women out there who’d love to fuck you up.”

“W-well…it’s not the same, you know?”

He knew this from experience. Even when he paid for the services of a lovely young woman who specialized in diapers, it just didn’t feel like he wanted it to. He needed it to be Lindsey–someone who knew him and knew his every insecurity and flaw. He needed it to be Lindsey because he still loved her in a way that he feared he’d never love anyone else again. And if he was cut off from that, what would he do then?

“You’re just not looking hard enough. And, I thought you had a girlfriend.”

“I mean, I do, yeah. But she…”

“She’s not into the diapers, is she?”

“Not at all.”

“I gotta hand it to you,” she says, laughing to herself, “when I look back at how long we were together, I find it kind of hard to believe. Like…really? I really stayed with someone as pathetic as you for as long as I did? And yet you’ve managed to get another girlfriend? I have no idea how you managed to do it.”

He could tell her the story, but he bites his tongue.

“Does she know you’re here?”

He shakes his head.

“And what would happen if she did know?”

“It…wouldn’t be good.”

Lindsey moans to herself like she’s just eaten the most succulent bite of food.

“Bobby, I’m going to miss how goddamn pathetic you are. Now, roll over. On your back. Let’s get your pants off so we can put a big thick diaper on you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He obediently flattens himself on the ground before rolling onto his back like a puppy.

He’s brought a handful of things with him in a bookbag, but it seems like she has a lot of supplies of her own. He wonders where she keeps them. He wonders if her fiance knows about them. And he also wonders what will happen to them after he leaves here today.

“Naughty little diaper boy keeps on crawling back, huh?” she coos as she lowers herself to her knees alongside him.

He remains docile and keeps his hands by his side, allowing her to do whatever she’d like. She starts with unfastening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. Gripping the waistbands of his boxers and jeans together, she gives them a firm tug to begin the process of sliding them off of his body. He even helps with this endeavor, arching his back and lifting his ass off the ground to make it easier for her.

“Well I’m glad you did,” she continues. “Mommy’s going to take good care of her baby today.”

This is why he kept coming back. This is why he struggles to find anyone else who can fill the role like she does. He refuses to believe that this is going to be their last time together. She’s said things like this before–back when they were in the process of breaking up, she swore that they wouldn’t be doing things like this again. And yet, here they were.

It’d be a while before this happens again, he thinks. But someday he’ll reach out to her again, and she’ll invite him over. Just like what’s happening today.

“Look at this thing,” she says, the back of her hand playfully slapping his semi-hard cock as the pants are pulled past it. “You should see my fiance’s. I swear, it looks bigger when he’s soft than you do when you’re hard.”

This could be true, but he also knows that she knows he likes his cock’s size being mocked. True or not–the statement works as intended. His cheeks flare and his heart races a little faster.

“Does he know that I’m here?” he asks.

“That’s none of your business,” she says, flashing a wicked grin. “Why don’t you just worry about baby-things. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“S-sorry, I just…”

“Such a chatty little thing today, aren’t you? The only thing I want to hear coming out of your mouth today is baby-talk, got it? And if you’re not babbling like an infant, then I want your thumb to be in your mouth.”

Baby-talk. He has forgotten all about baby-talk. There was once a time–back when they lived together–where she’d make him practice his babbling until he sounded ‘perfectly dumb.’ He hadn’t spoken like that in years, but he was pretty sure he could do it now.

“Me…uhm, me wittle bay-bee…”

“Holy shit,” she mutters to herself. “Has it always sounded that pathetic? Just put your thumb in your mouth. I can’t handle that right now.”

He’s a little embarrassed that he apparently sounds as ridiculous as he thought he would, so he’s more than happy to plug up his mouth with his thumb.

His shoes, socks, pants, and boxers are fully removed and set off the side where he can’t see them. Now, she remains on her knees, staring down at his exposed skin while she shakes her head.

“I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t just show up in a diaper,” she says. “Even more surprised that you didn’t soil your boxers.”

“I fowt ‘bout it,” he says, talking while his thumb was in his mouth.

“You thought about which? Wearing a diaper here? Or soiling your boxers?”

“Uhm…firsth one.”

“Do you remember how dependent on diapers you used to be?” she coos. “There was a while there where it seemed like you were having legitimate accidents in your pants.”

He remembers. He remembers how he had to start carrying a backpack with him everywhere he went–stocked with things like extra underwear, diapers, and baby wipes. He can still remember the woman’s voice that one time he was getting his haircut and he started filling his pants before he even knew what was happening. “Oh my god! Are you shitting your pants?”

That issue seems to be under control these days. He always figured it was more of a mental thing–not any sort of physical change in his body that prevented him from holding it. Once he stopped wearing diapers all the time, it stopped being a concern. Of course, in the few times that he’d slip into a diaper when he was home alone, it was like nothing had ever changed–it shut off something in his mind and suddenly he was loading diapers without even thinking about it.

“Now, before we get to your precious diaper, I have a little gift for you.”

“A giff?”

“Mmhmm. A little going away present. I really hope you like it. I picked it out special for you.”

He’s trying to imagine what it could be–for as much as he’d love it if it was actually something sincere and thoughtful, the slight sarcastic tinge to her voice suggested that he needed to be wary.

“Wh-what ith it?”

“Close your eyes and I’ll give it to you.”

He takes a deep breath. They both know that he’ll do anything she says–even if he thought it was a trap. He just wishes he knew what she was up to. He closes his eyes.

Curiously, he can feel her tugging at his cock. One hand wraps itself around his stiff cock, while the other plays with his balls. He’s missed her grip–she has always been so very good at the art of pleasure.

But he has to wonder–was this the gift? A handjob? That doesn’t seem right. How does one ‘pick out’ a handjob? He’s tempted to ask, but chooses to just let her do her thing. Why ask questions when you can just get your shaft rubbed?

Her speed increases, as does the pressure her palm exerts on him. She’s not playing around–she’s planning on milking him dry right here, right now. He considers asking her to stop, but her proficiency has him paralyzed in place. All he can do is lie there, gently moaning through his thumb while his body spasms and arches to meet the rhythm of her hand.

“This isn’t your gift, by the way,” she says. “But this will help you to appreciate it more.”

Even if he was capable of paying attention to her, he’d have no idea what that means. Right now, the words are completely lost on him. If he hears anything at all, it’s just foggy noise in the background.

Release.

He’s climaxed a million times in his life, but few have ever compared to the ones that Lindsey was capable of delivering. By hand, by mouth, by pussy–he’s often thought of her body as the perfect compliment to his own. After a few moments where he seems to have left his body, he finally recalls where he is–just as he feels his semen dripping from her hand and onto his skin.

“There we go,” she says. “All done. Wasn’t that nice?”

He is unable to respond to this.

“That was a lot,” she coos. “My goodness. Has it been that long? Or do I just know how to coax it all out of you?”

He is still in no shape to reply. And, despite the fact that she did most of the work, he finds himself exhausted. His cock falls back to his skin, most of its hardness gone while it continues to shrink. By the time his eyes can focus on the world around him again, he spots a mischievous grin on her face.

“Perfect,” she says. “Now I think we’re ready for my gift.”

All he can manage is a confused: “Huh?”

She’s doing something with his cock, though he’s not sure what it is. Too, he’d love to take a look at what she’s doing, but he just lacks the strength to lift his head up to see.

Click. Such a foreboding noise, combined with a sudden feeling of tightness on his cock.

“All done.”

A rush of concerned adrenaline gives his body the energy he needs to sit up and investigate. It’s…one of those chastity devices. A thick plastic bright pink hood with a built-in lock. It just sits there between his legs, taunting him. Right now–just moments after having one of the best climaxes in recent memory–it doesn’t seem like all that bad of a thing. But the implications are already rolling in the back of his mind. What about later? When will this come off–and what will have to be done for it to be removed?

“The, uhm, key?” he asks, his thumb having just slid out of his mouth.

“There are two keys,” she says. She holds up a small silver key between her thumb and forefinger. “Here is one of them. The other? Well…we’ll get back to that later.”

“Y-you can’t let me leave your house like this,” he says.

“I can if I want to.”

She’s right, and he already knows this. He tries again: “Please don’t let me leave like this?”

“It’s funny that you’re thinking about the future now, when it seems like you hardly ever consider it otherwise.”

“I…I don’t know what you mean.”

“It wasn’t thinking with your brain, or even your heart, that got you back into my house, right? You were thinking with your cock. How much regard did you have for your girlfriend? Or even me and what my living situation might be like?”

He’d love to interject with the fact that it takes to tango, and that he wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t felt invited. But even with her complicity, she’s still right. He had been selfish. It wasn’t the first time, and it likely wasn’t the last time either.

“But you will take this off?” he asks.

She laughs, shaking her head. “It doesn’t sound like you’re listening to me. But what was I to expect from such a little baby?”

The word ‘baby’ does something to him. It drains him of that little bit of energy he had just recovered. It neutralizes him and flattens him out again on his back.

It’s not ideal, he doesn’t think. He likes when the diapers make him hard. He likes being teased and aroused by the act of infantilization. Now–with his climax in the rear view, and his cock trapped in a contraption, the idea of diapers and baby-things just doesn’t hit quite the same way.

Oh, he feels some sort of lust for them still. But it’s different. It’s a lust that isn’t powered by primal sexual desires and fetishes, and instead one fueled by the nagging suspicion that he may actually just be a baby. Diapers and sucking his thumb–maybe that’s all he deserves.

“Now then, let’s get you into your padding,” she says.

He nods.

“Now say: ‘Thank you, Mommy.’”

He repeats the words right back to her: “Thank you, Mommy.”

She takes her time, spreading his legs and lifting them into the air. His body instinctively does its part too, keeping his legs positioned upwards so that she can concentrate on the area between his legs. She’s made no effort to clean his skin of his previous spurting, though she has cleaned her hands. It seems fitting, he thinks, that the remnants should be contained within a diaper.

It only takes a minute or so to wrap the diaper around him and for the tapes to be pulled tight and sealed. And, once in place, he finds it to be transformative.

It has been a long while since he’s been here–not just in Lindsey’s home, but in a diaper. That thick rustling plastic between his legs feels so right. He’s a baby again.

“Isn’t that nice?” she asks.

“Mmm,” he moans, the best response he can muster.

“Come with me,” she says. “I want to show you something.”

He rolls over onto his stomach and props himself up onto his hands and knees again–he knows how a baby is supposed to move, and he doesn’t need her to remind him. She walks, and he crawls behind her, his thickly diapered bottom wagging in the air with every shift forward.

For a moment, he thinks they’re going to her bedroom–a bedroom they once shared. But she stops short of that particular door, taking a sudden left-hand turn. The bathroom. He follows her inside.

He thinks he can guess where this might be going. Once, he was made to put a toilet brush in his mouth and clean the toilet for her, and he could see that being something she’d ask of him again. Or, he could see this being where she’d make a little speech about how toilets were for grown-ups and how he was now wearing his toilet.

Yet it doesn’t seem like either is the case. Instead, she holds the little chastity key out in the air again, hovering above the toilet bowl.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asks.

“Baby-talk, please,” she says.

He sighs as his cheeks burn. He tries again: “Uhm…what doing, Mommy?”

“I have no need for this,” she says. “Especially since this will be our last time together.”

“But…”

Her mind is clearly already made up. She doesn’t wait to hear a rebuttal from him–no amount of begging is going to change her mind. She widens her fingers, and the key releases.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Sploosh.

“Now then,” she says. “I want you to sit right there and watch me. I’m going to show you how a big girl uses the potty.”

Had there been even the slightest pause, he would ask what she meant by that. But by the time the words are out of her mouth, she’s already pulling her pants down and lowering her ass onto the toilet seat.

It starts with a light tinkle. A trickling trink-a-dink-a-dink that morphs into a much heavier stream.

“Can you do that?” she asks.

“Pee?”

She nods. “Can you pee-pee in your diaper like Mommy is peeing on the potty?”

He can. Alarmingly easily too, he knows. No gap in time between the last diaper he had worn and this one had diminished his ability to let loose in one.

“Y-yes.”

“Do it,” she says. “Show mommy how you wet yourself.”

He barely even has to think about it. In fact, he’s surprised to find that he’s already wetting himself before he even gives his body the go-ahead. The padding swells as the warmth radiates between his legs.

“Very good, little boy. You wet yourself just like a baby is supposed to, hmm?”

He nods.

“Now then,” she continues. “Watch Mommy very carefully. Because you’ll have to do this too.”

Again, she gives him no time to question what she’s doing. No sooner than the words have left her mouth, she’s grunting and leaning forward. It’s quite clear what’s happening.

A loud pfffft echoes in the toilet bowl as she pushes the wind from her rear. She’s still pushing.

It seems especially cruel that she’d have locked up his cock before she started doing this. Once, he had told her that he wished to watch her poo. He had imagined it being in a diaper or her pants–but she had never been interested in that. ‘Diapers are for babies,’ she’d say.

But watching her go, while on the toilet now, he realized that this might have actually been exactly what he had always wanted to see. He needed to be reminded that while she, too, did dirty and smelly things, she did it in the place reserved for big boys and girls.

“Here it comes,” she says.

Plop. Plop. Splish.

There’s a throbbing in his useless cock unlike any he’s ever experienced before. He wishes, so badly, that he could enjoy this more than he is capable of now. This feeling is only amplified when the scent of her efforts finally reaches his nose–equally sweet and abhorrent.

“Perhaps, in a different time, I’d have asked you to clean my ass,” she says.

He nods eagerly, as if hoping to convince her that it’s something he’d love to do now.

“Alas, you’re not even capable of wiping your own bottom, baby,” she continues. “I can’t trust you to clean mine.”

His lips curled into a pout as he sighed.

“Now then. While I clean myself, are you going to be a good boy and do your poo-poos in your diaper too?”

“Uhm…”

“Do you need help?” she asks. “I can provide assistance.”

He’s experienced ‘assistance’ before. Enemas. Suppositories. Castor oil. He’s never been a fan of any of those experiences–even if he was, admittedly, fond of the results. No, he doesn’t want ‘assistance’ today. In anticipation of a moment like this–though this wasn’t exactly where he thought it would be happening–he had refused to use the toilet since the night before. His body was overdue for expulsion now. Hell, he’d wager it was harder, at this point, to keep it all inside of him than it was to just release it into his diaper.

He shakes his head. “I…can go.”

“Try again,” she says. “Baby-talk. Tell me what you’re going to do.”

An incredibly humiliating request like this should be difficult for him. But the longer he stews in his wet diaper, the easier it is to just be the baby he came here to be.

“Mommy…me gonna poop my pampies.”

Pampies? Christ, it’s been a long time since he’s said that word. It’s a word he feels like he can only say when he’s in this state.

“Go on,” she says, pulling toilet paper from the roll for herself. “Show me what little boys do in their pampies.”

His knees drift a little further apart on the tile floor, and he pushes and grunt a little himself–an almost pointless gesture, but one that appears to mimic how Lindsey had done it just a few minutes before. The difference is that he doesn’t have to push very hard. All he has to do is release his muscles’ grip on his back door and…

Flomph.

Utter devastation is brought to his diaper in a single moment. The soft and massive mess forces its way through, taking up all the space it needs. His diaper now sags considerably. With a quick check of his hand, he can feel the sizable lump jutting out from the back of the padding. Any odor created by Lindsey previously seems almost immediately overwritten by his diaper. A few minutes later, it’s hard to tell where her stench ends and his begins.

“Oh my,” she says, shaking her head. “That sounded like a pretty big boom-boom. Did you have to go real bad?”

He sheepishly nods. It’s only now that he realizes that in the excitement of filling the seat of his diaper, he had completely missed watching Lindsey wipe her bottom clean.

She slides off of the toilet seat, twisting herself a little as she does so that he can see her ass cheeks as she does. It feels like a taunt. “See? I can take a shit and clean myself up so well that you’d never know. Do you wish you could do the same?” On her feet again, she slowly hoists her pants and panties up her legs, wriggling them over her thighs and ass until they’re back in place again.

“I’d like for you to do the honors,” she says, pointing to the toilet’s lever.

“B-but…” He wants to remind her that the key is still somewhere in the toilet bowl. Under her piss. Her shit. Her soiled toilet paper.

“I know, I know,” she teases. “You’re not very good at using the potty. But it isn’t hard. Come here. I’ll help you.”

He doesn’t want to, though he seems unable to do anything but follow her instructions. He lifts his hands just enough so that she can take his hand in hers and she guides it to the handle.

“Ready?” she asks. “On the count of 3. One…two…three…”

He tries one more time to say “Wait” in an effort to stop what is about to happen, but it’s far too late. His fingers are on the cold metal lever, pulling it down.

Fwoooosh.

Everything is gone and clean water rushes into the bowl. His heart might as well have been flushed too.

“The…the key? You said there were two?”

For a second, she looks like she might reprimand him for not using baby-talk, but instead she smiles and nods.

“Indeed. It did come with two keys. That was one of them. And the other…well, I don’t have that anymore either.”

“Wh-what? But…I’m going to need it.”

“Will you though?” she asks. “Once a baby, always a baby. Frankly, I think I’d be doing womankind a favor if I prevented you from ever waggling that thing in anyone else’s faces again.”

This seems to sober him a bit. The infantile headspace he had used to fill his diaper quickly dissipates. “Lindsey, I have a girlfriend! I can’t just show back up at home with this thing on my dick.”

“Well, you might be in luck, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tina Martin, yes?”

“H-how did you know her name?”

“Because I already mailed the other key to her, Bobby. She’s had it since before you even left your home this morning.”

“N-no…Lindsey… But does that mean that she…”

“She knows everything,” Lindsey says. “She’s known from the moment you reached out to me, interested to see if I’d let you come crawling back for one more dirty diaper.”

“But…how?”

Lindsey just laughs and shrugs. “Us girls have to look out for each other. Especially when big babies try to play us for fools. But I don’t see this as being bad news for you. Hell, you might even find this to be a good thing.”

He scoffs. “And just how do you figure that?”

“Well, no more secrets, for one. If Tina chooses to keep you around, she does so knowing that you’re a big baby. Mind you, she doesn’t know just how stinky you can be. But I’ll be sharing this tidbit with her later when we catch up.”

“Y-you can’t!”

“I already have, Bobby. She’s waiting for you at your home now, key in hand. And I don’t know what she wants you to do to get it back…but I don’t envy you one bit.”

“Lindsey, I need that key.”

“It’s no longer up to me, baby.”

“Please…this…this isn’t what I wanted today.”

“Are you sure? Humiliation? A poopy diaper? Getting to cream yourself? I think you got to do all the things you wanted.”

“And you’re not just…fucking with me?” he asks. “Because if this is just a joke to, like, teach me some sort of lesson… Well, lesson learned.”

“Watch this,” she says, grabbing her phone.

She taps the screen a few times and suddenly there’s a ringing noise.

“Wait…are you calling someone?” he asks.

“I’m calling Tina.”

“No! Please, Lindsey, no!”

It’s a video call, and the call has gone through. There is Tina’s smirking face on Lindsey’s phone–being held out towards Bobby so that he is face to face with her.

“Hello, Bobby.”

“T-Tina. Look, I know Lindsey has probably told you some things, but…”

“I flushed my key down the toilet,” Lindsey says, turning the phone’s screen to face herself. “I mean, after I took a shit on it.”

Tina laughs. “Is he freaking out?”

“I’d say so. Also, he pooped his diaper. Not because I flushed the key. But I’m sure he would’ve if I had done that first.”

“So you weren’t kidding when you told me that he likes to poop his pants?” Tina asks.

“Oh, quite serious. Here, come and see.”

He’d love to get up and flee the room. He doesn’t know where he’d go…but he just wishes he had that ability. Because he finds himself paralyzed again. All he can do is remain there on his knees, tears welling in his eyes, as Lindsey orbits him with the phone. When she’s behind him, he feels her pulling open the back of his diaper–likely to show Tina what’s inside.

“Do you see that?” Lindsey asks.

Tina responds with a howling laughter. “Holy shit! Quite, uh, literally.”

“Well? What do you think? Should I change the baby and send him back home to you?”

“No,” Tina says. “He doesn’t deserve a change. Do you have any clean diapers?”

“I do.”

“Just send him home in dirty diaper, and send him with a clean diaper. I’ll take care of him when he gets home.”

“But…Tina,” he gasps. “That’s an hour drive!”

Tina shrugs and laughs again. “Sounds like you have a lot of time to think about what a dirty little boy you are.”

He can barely process what he’s hearing. “But…the key?”

“I have it,” Tina says. “But you’ll be real goddamn lucky if you ever see that again.”

The call soon after–there’s not much left to say, beyond the two women just cackling with each other.

“Well,” Lindsey says, helping him up to his feet. “I suppose that’s that. It’s been fun, but I should send you on your way.”

He’d love to argue and discuss this further with Lindsey, but he knows that she’s right. She doesn’t have another key, and he already knows it’ll be near-impossible to convince her to reconsider. She’s done. She’s moving on. No–she already moved on sometime ago. Today was her just passing the humiliating torch.

“Let me just get my pants and…”

“No,” she says.

“No?”

“What for? You don’t need them.”

“But…”

She shakes her head and nudges him forward and out of the bathroom. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you home.”

He’s allowed to slip his feet back into his sneakers and he’s handed his keys, wallet and cell phone from his pants pockets–but it’s clear that his pants and underwear aren’t making the trip home with him. If his mind wasn’t being pulled in various directions by the device on his cock, the mess in his diaper, and the trouble waiting for him at home, he might be terrified at the thought of leaving Lindsey’s house and walking back to his car.

But he makes the trip without even thinking about it, escorted by Lindsey. At his car, she watches as he eases himself into the driver’s seat, the mess squishing and spreading inside his diaper as he sits on it. It’s thrilling for just a moment–before he recalls that the chastity device prohibits him from getting too excited. Too, it’s a long drive home, and Tina is expecting him to arrive in a dirty diaper. This will be anything but a pleasant drive.

“Here,” she says, thrusting a folded clean diaper into the car. “Per Tina’s request.”

He’s tempted to say ‘thank you’ out of habit, but stops himself. He’s not thankful for any of this.

“So this is it?” he asks.

“Looks like it.”

“I wish this could’ve ended differently,” he says. “I feel like you really fucked me over here.”

“Oh well. Besides, you’ll get over it. Someday–assuming you can convince Tina to give you the other key–you’ll be touching yourself while you think of what happened here today.”

He hates that he knows that she’s right.

“Hurry up and get out of here,” she says. “You smell terrible.”

Driving home, he recalls what he was thinking about on his way to Lindsey’s house. That this was not only a bad idea–but that his was going to end terribly. And, seeing as how things have developed, he can’t say he was wrong.

Though, he’s curious as to what awaits him at home. Tina did ask for a fresh diaper–a request that seemed to suggest something, though he didn’t want to speculate too much yet.

For now, he’d just drive. And maybe suck his thumb a little.

Want some more naughty stories to read? Check out the Master Index of Stories and see if you can't find something you haven't read before. Or...maybe re-read an old favorite.