Doing Business, Part 57 (Patreon)

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Fifty-Seven

My uncaged climax had delivered hits of oxytocin and dopamine stronger than any buzz Mommy’s edible was capable of. And for a while after, I suspected that my little trip had reached its end.

But as I felt Mommy stuffing my shrunken dick back into the cage so she could lock it shut again, the room still seemed to shift around us in unnatural ways. While the post-climax bliss began to fade, the cannabis began to rear its head again.

“You didn’t poop on my bed,” she said. It sounded like she was proud of me, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

“All pooped out,” I muttered.

“That was quite a load earlier,” she said. “I’d be concerned if you had anything left in you.”

She rolled herself off of the side of the bed and opened one of the bedroom’s many doors, vanishing within the dark walk-in closet for a moment before returning with a cardboard box.

“I keep a box of baby supplies in almost all the rooms of the house,” she said. “Experience has taught me that you should never be too far from a fresh diaper.”

I believed that. Surely, I wasn’t the first big baby to step into her home.

“I really ought to have a nursery,” she continued. “I certainly have the space for one.”

“Maybe you just don’t have babies staying over enough,” I offered.

“That’s a good point. I suppose I’d have a need for one if I had a baby living with me full-time.”

She wasn’t looking at me when she said it, though I could just about hear the implied wink. It made my heart race a little. Was she actually hinting at the possibility of inviting me to stay here? I couldn’t process a request like that–not now.

I kept my mouth shut and hoped we’d move on to another conversation.

And that seemed to work. “I wasn’t kidding about the baby food,” she said, unfolding a new diaper to slide under me. “I have plenty in the kitchen, just waiting for a hungry mouth.”

I nodded, willing to accept that as my dinner if that's what she wanted.

“But I would need to get dinner for myself–and I’m certainly not going to cook for myself. Do you like sushi, Baby?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Perhaps I’ll feed you some with chopsticks.”

“Please?” That sounded much better than baby food to me.

She dusted me with powder before wrapping me up in the diaper. In just a moment, it was like the last little while hadn’t actually happened. I was already struggling to remember what it felt like to hold my hard cock in my hand, or to move around without a diaper on me.

“Do you remember how to get to the living room?” she asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not a clue.”

“As helpless as a toddler,” she smirked. “Alright then. Can you wait here for me, then? I’m going to freshen myself up and then I’ll take you downstairs.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy,” she said, picking up the box and walking towards a different door than the one she used to get the box from initially. Opening the door, I could see that it was another bathroom–which she entered while holding the box, closing the door behind her.

I did wonder, for just a moment, why she was carrying the box with her into the bathroom. If it had been in a closet before, why not take it back there? Why not just leave it in the bedroom?

But I was quickly distracted by the plump diaper between my legs. It hadn’t been that long since my last diaper, and yet I still found myself missing that familiar smoosh and crinkle. Even the cage’s presence felt ‘right’ to me. This was the norm.

Somewhere, on far-off neurons, were the worries and anxieties of the rest of the weekend. My mother. Megan. As tempting as it was to let those stressors into the moment, I felt fortified by Mommy’s home. They were kept at bay for as long as I was here.

Maybe I would just stay here forever.

Mommy’s bathroom door opened, and my hands immediately shot to my sides as I pretended like I wasn’t just rubbing my diaper.

With the bright lights of the bathroom behind her, I couldn’t quite focus on her body until she closed the door again. It was then that I could see she was wearing only a diaper.

“It’s been a while,” she said, sauntering towards me as her thick padding rustled between her legs.

“Y-you could’ve put that on out here,” I said. “I could’ve helped.”

She laughed, sidling up to me and kissing my cheek. “I suppose I could have, Baby. I was feeling a little self-conscious about my self-diapering abilities though. And while I could’ve used the help, I’m not sure I could’ve trusted another baby for the job.”

“Well…you’re a baby now.”

“Touche,” she says. “What do you think? Want to crawl to my living room with me?”

I laughed, my head bobbing like a maniac. “I’d love that.”

She dropped to the ground on her hands and knees and immediately began her awkward lunges forward towards the door. I followed suit, trying to stay close enough behind her that her beautifully diapered bottom took up most of my field of vision.

“Wow,” she said. “Things do actually look a little different from down here.”

“I like it like this,” I said. “The perspective does a lot to get me in the right headspace.”

It was strange–it wasn’t the sort of thing I was likely to tell her when she wasn’t wearing a diaper. It’s not that it was a secret of any sort. It was just a detail that I didn’t think Mommy needed to know. So long as I was in that headspace, it probably didn’t matter to her how I got there.

“Such a wise and practiced baby,” she said, making my cheeks blush.

I continued to watch her diaper sway back and forth as she crawled ahead. I just wanted to see it change somehow. I wanted to see a wet spot develop at the bottom of it. I wanted to see her push and cause the back of it to expand out before sagging. Of course, that was probably way too much to ask–and it was enough that I just got to see this.

“Hmm,” she hummed. “Have you ever crawled down stairs before?”

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe if you go…backwards?”

“Ah,” she said, already spinning herself around just before the top step. “See? Such an expert on all things baby.”

One step at a time, we slowly piloted ourselves backwards, still on our hands and knees. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be–I suspected I must’ve had some sort of experience with this as a toddler that my body just never forgot.

By the time we got to the bottom, though, Mommy was back on her feet–an arm reaching behind her back as she straightened out.

“Okay, that’s enough crawling for me,” she said. “Either Mommy is getting older, or Mommy needs to start going to the gym more regularly. But you–you should still crawl.”

I had already planned on it.

My eyes remained fixated on her padded bottom as she strutted along in front of me. I was curious as to how much effort she had to put into her waddle-less stride–she made it look simple.

“Are you looking at my bum?” she asked.

“M-maybe.”

“Good. Does Mommy look cute in a diaper?”

“Yes, Mommy. Very.”

“Cuter than you?”

“Probably.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “You are a natural baby.”

We walked, and crawled, right through the room I would’ve considered to be the living room. A spacious room with a lot of windows and what looked to be some very expensive pieces of furniture. Sofas and loveseats with curves upon curves. More art on the wall–ranging from stunning photography to more abstract pieces to elaborate wood carvings. I wanted to ask about every single thing that I saw–I wanted to know where it came from, who made it, and why she chose to put it in her home. But we left the room as quickly as we entered, moving forward down a hall and then down some steps. A basement? Once more, I spun myself around, carefully crawling backwards one step at a time.

To my delight, Mommy was at my side for every step, her hand lightly perched on my back to help steady me should I need it.

“Admittedly, this is where I spend most of my time if I’m at home at all,” she said once we reached the bottom. “Well, besides my bed.”

She helped me to my feet, and I took a look around.

The space was bigger than my entire apartment. The bulk of the basement seemed split between a well-stocked bar and a large TV with a large sectional couch. There was some exercise equipment off to the side, and some additional doors–utilities and storage, I assumed. Of the rooms I had seen in her house thus far, this room seemed like the most ‘lived-in’ to me–it lacked the pristineness of the other spaces. Sure, it was pretty damn clean. But there were signs of life here. Stacks of mail. A basket of laundry in the corner, half folded. Some takeout menus sitting atop the bar’s counter.

It made the rest of her vast home seem like a facade, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was an allegory for Mommy as a person. Hidden behind her power and wealth was just a normal human like me, with wants and anxieties. And seeing her walk around this space in just a diaper now, she never seemed more normal to me.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said. “Fill your diaper if you have to.”

“A-are you going to…?”

She laughed. “No, you probably won’t catch me dropping a Clark-sized load into the back of my pants.”

Clark-sized. She certainly had a knack for the jests.

She took a seat on the sectional, patting the seat next to her. I quickly appeared at her side, curling up next to her, trying to position myself so that I could feel as much of her skin as possible pressed against mine. She was warm. Soft. And when she put her arm around me to pull me in closer, I was hard pressed to think of a time I had felt as safe and secure.

“We don’t have to talk about the stresses of tomorrow,” she said. “But what’s after that? Are you doing anything else this weekend?”

I laughed–one of those ‘if I didn’t laugh, I’d cry’ sort of laughs.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to share everything about Ava and I yet, but I felt I could tell Mommy about my plans with Megan.

“Yeah, actually. I’m meeting with, uhm, Megan on Sunday.”

“Megan?” asked Mommy, eyebrows raised. I could’ve sworn this was the same reaction I had gotten from Lyndie. “Megan…from work?”

I nodded.

“Well that’s interesting. How on Earth did that happen?”

“I just…talked to her. She needed a friend.”

There was a lot more to the story than that, of course. I was choosing to leave out the part about how I was temporarily trading in my boyish identity for intel about Thomas Pritchard, though maybe those would be details I’d share later–assuming I was able to come through and help save the day.

“And exactly what are you two going to do together? Braid each other’s hair and put makeup on each other?”

“Uhm, well…”

She laughed, her head rolling back to really belt it out. “Clarky! Are you going to let Megan give you a makeover?”

“I don’t know what she wants to do,” I shrugged.

“Should I have been buying you more feminine clothing, Clarky?”

“N-no.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to be a girl. I mean…if it would make her happy, I guess I’ll humor her or something.”

Mommy’s head tilted and she stroked her chin while considering something. “I do believe I have some very cute outfits I bought for Hillary once upon a time. With a little altering, I could probably make those work.”

“I’m, uhm, quite happy being a boy, thank you very much.”

“Are you sure? With your near-useless pee-pee? Imagine how cute that’d look under a little dress.”

“Quite sure.”

“Fine, fine,” she shrugged, making a big production out of her decision to back off. “But you know you could tell me if you wanted such a thing, right?”

“I do.” I meant that. At this point, I’d have trusted her with anything. Really, it was just a matter of what I wanted to share with her.

Mommy checked something on her phone. “Food should be here soon. I imagine they’ll just deliver it on the porch. Unless you want to go outside and receive it for us?”

It’s a joke, I was sure. Just another one of her patented Mommy-teases that accelerates my heart and flusters me a bit. But I was feeling good. The night so far had been treating me well and–tucked under Mommy’s arm–I’m feeling invincible.

“I would do that.”

She laughed and massaged my shoulder with her hand. “I wasn’t actually asking you to do that.”

“B-but, I would,” I replied, head nodding. Some men held the door open for their beloved–and I was offering to greet a delivery driver in just a diaper.

“It’s very sweet of you,” she said. “But I have neighbors. And I’m already uninterested in talking to Mr. Fleischman from across the street. Even less interested in talking to him about why a young man in a diaper was out on my porch.”

“That’s fair.”

“But if you have a need for public humiliation, Baby, I’m always willing to lend a hand.”

If I knew what was good for me, I’d laugh it off and just let the moment pass. But there was a part of me–the part mostly operated by the devil on my shoulder–who refused to let this conversation end. “I’d like that.”

“What do you have in mind, Baby?”

“I…I dunno. I just…sometimes I really like the feeling of being humiliated.”

“This isn’t news to me, of course.”

I laughed and shrugged. Well, this is me now. The monster you created.

“Perhaps I could be doing even more to try and satiate that hunger of yours?”

“Only if you wanted to…”

“Oh, but Baby, you know I want to. I had this idea the other morning–the epitome of a ‘shower thought’ if there ever was one–and I’ve been wondering if I’d share it with you or not. But I think I ought to now.”

“Yes, Mommy. You really should.”

“It’s not all that complex. I’d simply text you at some random moment and tell you that I need you to fill your diaper. And then, you’d have a little bit of time to make that happen and send proof back to me.”

“That doesn’t sound all that different from what you normally ask me to do…”

“Ah, but see, the kicker is that you don’t know when I’m going to make this request. At its most effective, it’d be outside of work hours. Maybe you’re with your friends. Or at a bar. Maybe you’re shopping for a new pair of shoes. Maybe you’re with…your mother.”

“N-no…” My heart practically exploded in my chest at that moment. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” she answered, her voice full of cruel glee. “But I could. And that’s the fun of it.”

“And…you said I had a limited amount of time to use my diaper?”

“That’s right.”

“And what if I didn’t do it in time? Or chose not to?”

She shrugged. “Consequences. There’d have to be some, yes? Or else there wouldn’t be any point.”

Consequences. The word simultaneously thrilled and terrified me. “What sort of consequences?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet. Like…well, I have these photos of you that I took tonight, right? Pictures of a very dirty little baby. And I imagine that I could get you to do quite a bit for me if it meant that I kept those pictures to myself.”

I imagined that would get some cooperation from me. Though… “I’m not sure who you’d threaten to send them too. Doesn’t everyone already know that I’m in diapers?”

“This is true. But I think there’s a big difference between some people knowing you wear diapers and them seeing evidence of what you actually do in a diaper.”

“Yeah…maybe.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she shrugged.

I felt I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it. “Hmm?”

“At some point in the future, I’ll reach out to you. I’ll tell you that I need you to fill your diaper for me, and that I need it to happen in a certain amount of time. And then I’ll spell out what I plan on doing if you aren’t able to complete my request. And, in that moment, I’ll let you decide for yourself if it’s worth complying for.”

Thrills. Terror.

Maybe I would luck out. Mommy would reach out to me while I was in the bedroom of my apartment and it’d be easier to just push a load into my diaper just because I would’ve wanted to anyway. Or, perhaps, I’d be out and about. Maybe I’d be out with Ava.

“I’m sorry, Ava. Excuse me for a moment while I do something in my diaper real quick. Yes, I know we’re out getting dinner together, but you know how Mommy is.”

Still: “I’m in.”

“Very good,” she said.

“Just…promise that you won’t do that while I’m with my mother tomorrow?”

She laughed. “As amusing as that would be, I’ll honor that request.”

“Thank you.”

“Speaking of…”

I took in a long, slow, breath as I ran my hand through my hair. I was hoping to get through the night without talking about brunch. But, the cat seemed out of the bag now.

“Are you ready to see your mother?”

“I’m ready for tomorrow to be over,” I nodded.

“Oh,” she laughed. “It won’t be that bad.”

I was pretty sure that was the moment she jinxed it. If things did go awry, I’d know what to blame it on.