Doing Business, Part 55 (Patreon)

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Fifty-Five

I wasn’t sure where we were.

This wasn’t completely unexpected. Outside of the part of the city that held my apartment, the office, and my school, I knew next-to-nothing about the greater area. I didn’t grow up around here. I don’t have a car. I have no reason to be outside of my little bubble.

And so here, in the driveway that leads to the McMansion that Mommy called home, I’m unsure if we’re in the city, the suburbs, or if we’re in another state. All I knew is that I was here, and here was where Mommy promised to change my absolutely obliterated diaper.

“We’re home,” she sang.

I’m tempted to over-analyze the fact that she didn’t just call it her home. ‘We’re home,’ almost implies…it’s our home?

I’m pretty sure that I’m overthinking it and I allow the thought to slip away. It’s not hard–the stench of my loaded diaper is so thick in the car that it’s hard to think about much else. Not even opening the windows seems to have helped all that much.

The garage door lifted as we approached it, and after the SUV entered, the door closed–seemingly by itself, as I didn’t see her press any buttons within the car.

“Is…your car going to smell like this for a while?” I asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt before reaching over and unbuckling mine for me–as if it was something I wasn’t capable of handling on my own.

She nodded. “Probably.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, smiling. “Such is life with a child. I have a friend–Rachael–and her daughter has been out of diapers for two years. I swear, her car still smells like a dirty diaper.”

“Maybe Rachael is pooping her pants too,” I awkwardly joked.

“That’s a good point. Maybe I’ll ask her next time I see her.”

“I…I wasn’t being serious…”

She shrugged, “Better yet, I could have you ask her if she’s pooping her pants. Preferably while I have you on your back and your own dirty diaper is getting changed.”

I felt like I should’ve seen how easily she could’ve turned that joke around on me. But now, my caged cock was pulsating as I thought about that scenario–getting my diaper changed in front of her friends while they pointed and laughed at me.

I hated that I wanted that so badly.

“Seriously though,” she said. “Sweetheart, you need to get out of the car. You smell horrible.”

“Oh, right,” I said, shaking my head as I was pulled out of my daydream.

She laughed to herself as she walked around to my side of the SUV, helping me out of the vehicle like I was an actual toddler. I didn’t stop her–in fact, I actually found myself using her body to support me like I needed the help.

“Did you like that little scenario?” she asked. “Getting your diaper changed in front of my friends?”

“Uhm…” I was tempted to just not answer, but I needed to know: “How did you know?”

“I can read you like a book, Clarky. Mind you, it’s not a very complex book. Lots of pictures. But just say the word and I’ll give Rachael a call. Maybe Josephine or Alanah. Hell, I could probably get Neve down here too if I asked.”

I had no idea if she was bluffing or not. I hoped that she was–I couldn’t imagine her friends being ecstatic about watching a grown man get his poo cleaned out from his bottom. Though, with Mommy, one could never really tell.

I figured it’d be best if I played it safe: “No, Mommy. I don’t think so.”

“Aww, a shame,” she cooed. “Maybe next time. Alright then, come along, Stinky. Let’s get you cleaned up.

While the car had been in motion, I had convinced myself that I was doing everything I could to minimize the spread of my mess in my diaper–doing my best to stay on the side of my ass so I wasn’t just sitting directly on my load. But as I waddled around in the garage, it seemed like my efforts hadn’t done all that much. The padding felt plastered to my skin now by a thick and sticky layer of my own mess. It felt disgusting, but it also felt deliciously naughty.

I took a moment to look around the garage. I could see this being the theme for the night–scanning everything thoroughly in an attempt to learn more about who Mommy was outside of work and when she was by herself.

For one–it was immaculately clean. I thought about most of the garages I had ever been in my life–the garages of friends and family members, mostly. Maybe never ‘grungy,’ but there was always this worn-in quality to them–spaces where work was happening. Things got fixed and built in garages. The things that got stored in garages were the things you didn’t bring into the house. It was a place for tools and muddy boots.

But Mommy’s garage almost felt entirely unused. There were things here–plastic storage bins neatly arranged on a shelf, a bicycle hanging from hooks on the wall, and there was a plastic kayak leaning up in the corner. Either she didn’t use the garage much, or she was just extremely fastidious about its appearance.

“Come, Baby. Let’s take care of your bottom before you start to overflow.”

I waddled to her side and she opened the door that led into her house. At once, there was just so much to see and take in. Coupled with the sensation of being towed behind Mommy by the hand while my diapers smelled and sagged, I was feeling overwhelmed to the point where I just couldn’t focus on much.

“It’s so big,” I said. The most basic observation possible, but I felt like I had to say something.

“Too big, probably,” she replied. “When you get power and money, you start thinking that you need the biggest and best version of everything. But I only use, like, three or four rooms in the house. I feel like there’s rooms I only step into once or twice a year.”

“Seems like a, uhm, good problem to have.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps. And, you know, there’s rooms that have purposes–I just haven’t had reasons to use those purposes yet.”

I was curious. “Oh?”

“I’ll show you. Soon. First things first, let’s get you out of these silly adult clothes. There’s no reason to pretend you’re a big boy now.”

“Even my…”

“Anything that’s not your diaper should be removed,” she said. “Would you like some help?”

I nodded, though I didn’t want help–I needed it.

She was already pulling at my clothes before I finished nodding–clearly already aware that I couldn’t handle this on my own. My button down and tee were the first to go, pulled up and over my head before being set aside. Next, she lowered herself to my feet and began untying my shoes. Looking up, and seeing that her head was level with my caged cock, she giggled to herself.

“Is this hard to watch, Baby? Mommy being so close to your dicklette, and yet you’re all locked up and rendered useless?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Well, even if you weren’t locked up, I doubt I’d be putting my mouth on that thing now. It smells even worse down here than you think it does.”

“Oh…”

“Are you a smelly little baby?” she cooed to me in a tone that was equal parts condescending and sugary-sweet.

“Uhm…”

“Go on,” she said. “Tell Mommy that you are. I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m a smelly baby,” I said to her in a hushed tone, cheeks bright red.

“Oh, come now. I know you can do better than that, Clarky.”

I had been on the verge of slipping into that infantile headspace since I loaded my diaper in her car. And as each bit of clothing had been stripped of my body, I found myself getting closer and closer to just succumbing to it altogether.

“I…made poopies in my diaper, Mommy.” It came from my mouth much easier than I had expected it to. Even the tone felt perfectly juvenile.

“Aww, you sure did, Baby. Let’s get these pants off so we can have a closer look, huh?”

I nodded as she unbuckled my belt and pulled my trousers down my legs. I stepped out of them once they reached my ankles–leaving me in only my abused diaper.

She was on her feet then, orbiting me so that she could pull open the back and take a look in. But just the act of pulling the diaper away from my waist seemed to indicate the extent of the disaster contained within. It took a good tug to actually pull it open, and I could actually hear the sound of it peeling off my ass.

“Wow,” she said. “Another for the record books. Actually, I’d like to take a few pictures of this.”

“W-wait..”

Snap. Snap. Snap. I could hear the sound of her phone’s camera as she held open the back of the diaper.

“Don’t worry yourself,” she said. “These are for Mommy to look at later.”

I wanted to believe her–I think I did believe her. But now these pictures existed, and they existed in a place that I couldn’t control them. It made me nervous…but it also made me a little excited.

“On your hands and knees, Baby,” she said. “Before we do anything else, we need to get you cleaned up. Follow me.”

I was on the ground in an instant. Crawling behind her, in this entirely new-to-me place, made me feel infinitely small. From this angle, everything looked enormous and alien. I didn’t know where I was, or where I was going. All I really had was Mommy as an anchor point. I just had to follow her slender legs.

“We’re going to go up the steps,” she said, pointing up a large flight of hardwood steps. “If you need to, you can hold Mommy’s hand.”

I immediately reached up and grabbed her hand. Step by step, she slowly led me towards the next floor. By the time we reached the top, my balance was a little out of whack and I tumbled backwards onto my ass with a sticky-sounding SPLORP. Mommy just laughed and shook her head.

“You’re just a helpless little thing, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Come along,” she said, pulling me by the hand up and off of my ass. “Just a little further, baby.”

Were it another time, and if I was here under a different context, maybe she’d be giving me a tour of our house as we traversed it. She’d point to each door that we passed and describe the purpose of the room. Maybe she’d have little anecdotes about furniture, or how a room ‘came together.’ But those discussions would be for adults. Not babies like me. Nobody talked to toddlers about the feng shui of a room.

It wasn’t until I noticed that the polished hardwood floors of the hall gave way to colder stone tiles that I realized I had followed Mommy into a new room. A bathroom, and a rather spacious one at that. A glass walled shower stood in one corner, while a large tub sat in the opposite. No amount of infantile headspace could keep down the excitement of my inner-apartment-dweller, who couldn’t believe that someone would have both a shower and a bathtub instead of an all-in-one unit shoved into a cramped bathroom.

“On your back, little one,” she cooed.

“But…” The tiles were already cold on my hand. I couldn’t imagine how they’d feel on my back.

“If you can withstand the discomfort of a full diaper, I think you’ll survive my chilly floor.” She was turning the bath water on as she spoke, and I could already see wisps of steam rising from the tub. “Besides, you’ll be warm soon enough.”

I rolled over onto my back, automatically assuming the ‘diaper-change’ position–legs splayed and slightly lifted off the ground, as to give Mommy all the access she needed to my diaper. The floor was every bit as cold as I expected it to be, and I felt myself twisting and contorting as I tried to acclimate.

“I’ve seen a number of your dirty diapers by now,” she said, kneeling down between my legs. “But this might be the first that I’m a little nervous about.”

Were I of a more ‘adult’ headspace, I’d have likely agreed. As it was, I just kicked my feet playfully, needing her to touch my diaper. Needing her to touch me.

She methodically pulled each tape back with a RRRRIP that echoed through the bathroom.

“Let’s see what we got here, hmm?”

She opened the sides before carefully grabbing the front of the diaper, slowly pulling it towards her. I couldn’t stand to look–I had to close my eyes.

“Oh my,” she said. “This isn’t just a disaster. This is…art. This is a masterpiece.”

I was proud of that.

Snap. Snap. Snap. The sound of more pictures being taken. I couldn’t help but get excited by that sound once more. The sound of more moments taken from me that I would no longer be able to have any control over. It felt like such an honor to have pictures of my filthy ass and open diaper taking a small bit of storage in Mommy’s phone.

“As tempting as it is to just dunk you into the tub, I think you’d just be a stinky tea bag in there–you’d cloud that water up immediately. We’ll have to clean as much of this up as we can before I toss you in the tub.”

Sure, whatever. I was just along for the ride. She could do anything she wanted to.

For the next few minutes, I just laid back and let it all happen. I could feel the swipes of the moist baby wipes as she cleared my skin, one small area at a time. Eventually, I realized that my thumb was in my mouth and I had been suckling on it. This realization didn’t stop me–if anything, it caused the suckling to intensify.

I was consumed with want. Need, maybe–though I could no longer find the line that separated the two. I simply…desired. It was a burning throughout my body. It was an ache in my crotch. A hunger in my tight asshole. I didn’t care what it was–she just had to give it to me.

“Hngg,” I moaned as her fingers stroked my backdoor.

“Mommy hasn’t forgotten what you like. Does baby need some attention down there?”

“Yeth,” I muttered, pathetically through my thumb. “Yeeetttttthhh.”

She giggled again, letting the next stroke her fingers slip in a tiny bit deeper. It sent tremors through my body.

“Now, now. I shouldn't overstimulate you. You just got here, and we have a whole night ahead of us. Can’t have you dripping out of your cage now, can we?”

Honestly, I was surprised I hadn’t yet exploded. These days I was worried that a gentle breeze could get me to spurt in my diaper.

“Oh, well, you are dribbling a little,” she said, wiping off the tip of my cage. “But just a few droplets.”

“Uhhm,” was my only response–a meaningless moan that served only to try and release a little bit of the pent up sexual steam I had collecting inside of me.

“That should do it,” she cooed. “Come, Clarky. Give me your hand. Let’s get you into the tub.”

She helped me up and escorted me to the enormous white tub, which not only looked to be filled with hot water, but with a thick layer of bubbles sitting atop it.

“What baby doesn’t like a bubble bath?” she said, likely catching the delight on my face.

While I was sure that I had experienced a bubble bath in my life before, I simply had no memory of it actually happening. I had no idea how badly I wanted to splash about in the big foamy bubbles until now.

“In you go,” she said, playfully slapping my bottom. “One leg at a time.”

The hot water would’ve likely surprised me no matter what. But after crawling around in only a diaper–any after my time spent on the cold tile floor–it felt like dipping my legs into molten lava. I watched the water carefully, curious to see if it’d turn red with blood as my legs dissolved into nothing. They didn’t, thankfully. And by the time my feet were at the bottom of the tub, I was finding immense comfort in the hot water.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Now go ahead and just sit down.”

The bathtub was even bigger than I had realized. The deeper I sank, the more room I realized I had. There was more than enough room for Mommy in the water as well. Hell, there was probably enough room for Mommy and her friend Rachael. Or Neve. Or Lyndie. Or Ava. Or Megan. Or…

That sense of desire was just so overwhelming. I could barely think straight.

“Oh I wish I could join you,” she said. She had to have been reading my mind. “But I just don’t think I want to sit in baby’s dirty water. Maybe another time.”

“Mmmmf.” A disappointed grunt.

“But don’t you worry. I’m still here to wash you up,” she said.

In this world that we had created, everything was a tease. Every move we made, everything we said–it was all to get a rise out of someone. Sometimes ourselves. And I suppose that’s why this bath felt so different. I was just a little boy in a tub of foamy water, and she was simply taking a washcloth and gently running it over my skin, one area at a time. I supposed that there was some inherent element of sexual tension to it–just given the roles we had adopted–but the moment didn’t actually feel all that sexual. It just felt nice. A mother giving her child a bath.

“I’ve been wondering if I owe you an apology,” she said, squeezing the wash cloth above my back so that hot water trickled down my exposed skin.

This seemed to coax me out of my little headspace a bit. “How so?”

She sighed. “Someday, you’ll be paying far too much money to a therapist to try and understand this part of your life.”

“Therapy is good for you,” I offered. “And maybe I’ll be working for a company with good benefits and my co-pay isn’t too bad.”

She laughed, rubbing my back with the palm of her hand. “You’re in the prime of your life, Clarky. And I’m keeping you in diapers for it.”

“I’m happy,” I said, nodding. “Stressed some days. But happy.”

“Hrm,” she hummed to herself.

“Mommy, are you happy?”

“Sometimes,” she said. The answer came so quick that it felt a little more honest than she had intended. She laughed to herself, as if she realized that she might as well elaborate now. “I would say I’m happy most of the time. But happiness isn’t really something you should measure with quantity. The quality of that happiness is important.”

“Do I…not make you happy enough?”

She leaned forward and kissed me on the head. “You make me plenty happy, Clarky. You’re too good for me, if anything.”

“What would make you happier?”

“Oh, it's probably not too hard to see. Just look around my big empty house. Look at my empty ring finger. The lack of framed pictures of spouses and children here or in my office.”

It felt like a silly question, but one I wanted to ask anyway: “Do you want those things?”

“I’m honestly not even sure anymore,” she said. “That’s the worst part. I can daydream about finding the perfect husband and having the perfect kids. But the reality is that most men aren’t all that great. And children? That feels exhausting.”

“How about me?” I asked, hoping my tone sounded as playful as I wanted it to be. “Aren’t I a good man? And a good baby?”

“You’re certainly the exception,” she said, nodding. “But that’s only because I’ve been raising you right.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet,” I suggested.

“We’re running out of time for him to show his face,” she said.

Then, she stood up and began to peel off her top. I opened my mouth, ready to ask what she was doing–but decided to just wait and watch. Just as she had stripped me of my clothes not that long before, she methodically removed all of her clothing, revealing more and more of herself until she was completely nude.

I could never get enough of that view. She looked resplendent. A goddess.

“Fuck it,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She spun on her heel and left the bathroom. It was a pleasure to watch her move while in the nude like this. Her limbs just seemed to glide effortlessly, like a well-oiled machine. A minute or two passed once she left, and then she was back, with a few items in her hand that I couldn’t make out. She placed them on the far edge of the bathtub before stepping into the water herself.

“Room for one more?”

I slid back in the tub, though there was already more than enough room for her. One leg at a time, she eased herself into the water before sitting down at the bottom, the water consuming her body before resting just below her voluptuous breasts.

“Let’s have some fun tonight,” she said, grasping the items from the edge of the tub. She held them out towards me in her hands. “But you don’t have to make a choice tonight. We can enjoy both of these things.”

“What are these?” I said, pointing to the small red objects that looked like candy.

“Edibles,” Mommy said. “Though if you’re not a fan of cannabis…”

“No,” I said, nodding. “That sounds good.”

And the other object in her hands–well, I knew what that was.

It was the key to my chastity cage.