Daily Free-Write May 9, 2020: Mommy's Day (Patreon)

Daily Free-Write May 9, 2021: Mommy's Day

"Sigh... Happy Mommy's day from your baby boy. I hope your day is filled with joy." The tired-looking man wearing big comical baby booties, an oversized diaper, and a giant binky around his neck did some jazz hands and bowed.

"Aww, baby you look tired," said the woman who answered the door. She looked to be in her mid 40's with a voluptuous frame and a workout leotard with skin tight leopard skin leggings to show it all off.

"No way, lady," said the man. "This is business only. I ain't gettin' myself into no more trouble on the job."

"Oh, but isn't the customer always right? I sure think you could use a glass of milk, baby boy..."

He just turned around and left, shaking his head. Half a minute later he got a call from his boss chewing him out.

"But the lady... Yeah, but... But boss, I..."

The boss told him if he got one more customer complaint he was fired so he better do whatever the next customer asks, or else.

"Sigh... okay boss. You got it," he said, but he was already speaking to a dead telephone line. He shook his head. He knew he should have become a flower delivery guy. Singing telegram seemed so much more exciting. But his boss's kid had taken over the business and had one too many 'creative' ideas for his liking. Each one more humiliating than the last. Now he was dressed up like a giant baby in a real adult baby diaper. One that he was apparently expected to use since today's schedule left no time for a potty break. He had one more telegram to deliver and then he could finally take this humiliating outfit off. Hopefully before he used the absorbent garment between his legs for its intended purpose.

*****

"Let's see, let's see... 1234 Rosethorn Street..." He looked up from his paper to see a sizable estate before him. His eyebrows went up, impressed and a little intimidated by the grandeur of the place. He usually did corporate gigs, apartments, and homes in the suburbs, so this was quite unusual. He felt almost guilty driving up the long circular driveway and sullying the atmosphere of the place with his beat up old car. But a job was a job. He got out of the car and knocked on the big wooden door. A butler answered, looked him up and down, and smirked.

"Uh... uh... Mommy's Day telegram for m-miss... uh..."

"I'll get her."

He did, and apparently half the staff heard too because a few minutes later he had an audience. A tall, woman in a wine-red corset that matched her lipstick with a cheeky heart shaped beauty mark to the right of her mouth came sauntering to the doorway. She looked him up and down, raising her eyebrows in apparent surprise as she appraised him and found him to be utterly ridiculous.

"Singing telegram," he said with a falter in his voice almost as if it were a question.

"I don't know. Are you?" She asked, crossing her arms as she smirked and cocked an eyebrow. This drew a few chuckles from the audience.

He cleared his throat. "Singing telegram."

"That's more like it," she said with a mischievous grin. "Well, go ahead. Or have you forgotten your lines?"

The onlookers laughed.

He looked down at his card, almost dropping it as he read what was written. Why hadn't he read this before? It had to be some kind of prank. But the number was plastered right on the sign attached to his car. He had to go through with it now. He resisted sighing, feeling like he might get a spanking or worse if he dared to disrespect the woman in front of him. So he went through with it.

"Happy happy Mommy's day, from your baby boy.

This one is on me.

Thank you for the many years

Of cleaning up my pee.

One day when I'm big and grown

I'll be a great thinker

But until that day is come

I'm Mommy's biggest stinkerrrrrrrr!"

He jumped and did a 180, landing in a squat as if he was filling his diapers. Unfortunately, this was the moment his bladder decided enough was enough and let loose, the pressure of the jump-squat forcing the pee right into the front of his diaper as he let out a big fart.

The onlookers roared with laughter and he slowly did an about face to look back at the victim of this cruel prank to see her barely holding it together with her hand over her face. His cheeks burned bright red and he covered the yellow of his diapers as he finished the last few lines with a quavering embarrassed vibrato

"From Your Baaaaaabyyyyy Boyyyyyyy!"

Everyone clapped, but he did not feel particularly proud of his performance in this moment. In fact, he was just about ready to head for the hills, only he didn't dare get in his car without the woman's leave. Something about her presence told him he had to be on his best behavior.

"Well done, little baby," she said, clapping, once she managed to compose herself enough to speak a full sentence. "But it looks like you, ah, might need a diaper change, sweetie."

The staff were in stitches, hooting and holding onto their knees to keep from falling over.

"Why don't you come inside?" she said. "We can get you fixed up."

"N-no thank you, ma'am," he said, managing to choke out the words without crying. "I'd rather leave with my dignity. And I have my pants in the car..."

"Nonsense," she said. "You haven't got any of either. Besides, babies can't drive. Now come along." She turned around and snapped her fingers, striding back into the house without even bothering to look to see if he followed. He stood there for half a second debating whether or not he really wanted to keep this job. The butler, who cracked a smile but had the incredible resolve to keep from laughing gave him a smirk and a word of warning.

"You had better follow her. And make it quick. You don't want to get a s-spanking." He lost it and began snickering as he finished his warning, which set off a whole new round of laughter from the staff. Thus, Andre Wiggins the third found himself trudging into the grand estate with the look of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and a droopy yellow diaper around his waist.

"I'll take your keys," said the Valet, who zipped off taking the car to who knows where. Andre followed the woman, one Mistress Pennywhistle up the grand staircase, to the right, down a hall to a large set of double doors which she opened and ushered him through. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was on the other side. It was a giant adult sized nursery in a large circular room complete with play area, feeding area, a pink and blue crib, and - what he dreaded to see most of all - a changing table.

"W-where the hell am I?" he muttered to himself, taking a terrified step back.

"Ah ah ah! Language," said the woman.

"S-s-sorry ma'am. I think you have the wrong idea. This is just a costume, you see, I-" he took another step back but stopped when he heard a growl behind him.

"Sentinel, Rui!" she said in a strong harsh tongue. "I wouldn't go any further if I were you, baby. You might lose a bite out of those cute buns of yours. Come to Mommy."

"P-p-p-please," he said, tears forming in his eyes as he was coaxed forward. "I'm just a singing telegram guy."

"Shhh... baby. The customer is always right. Just play along, won't you? My son can't have all the fun." She chuckled to herself as if it were some personal joke.

So it was her son that called in the singing telegram, he thought, as he got close enough to be taken by the hand and led over to the table.

"Up we go, baby boy," she said. He gave her an imploring look but she was having none of it. "Up. Now."

Her stern voice was enough to get him zipping right up onto the table. An accompanying bark from Sentinel was enough to make his compliance inevitable. He wasn't about to lose his family jewels over some prank. Unfortunately, what she wanted to do next was nearly as bad.

He covered his face as she untaped his diaper, exposing his manhood to the open air.

"Oh, no no no. This will never do. Little boys don't have hair down there. ALEXOS! Call the barber to the nursery. It's an emergency."

Moments later, a man with a magnificent beard came in pushing a cart.

"Shave job, ma'am? Right away."

Andre's eyes bugged out of his head when he was the mean looking straight razor in the man's hand.

"H-h-hey now, keep away from me with that."

"You had better lie still, little boy, or you'll be losing more than your hair down there," said Mistress Pennywhistle with a smirk.

Andre was frozen stiff with fear as the man made short work of his pubic hair, and at the behest of the woman, continued with the rest of his body. In mere minutes he was as naked and hairless as a newborn infant, and crying like one too.

"Somebody needs his pacifier," said Mistress Pennywhistle, and she unceremoniously shoved his oversized pacifier into his mouth. Like the diapers it was perfectly functional, and this one functioned to fill his mouth so full he couldn't make a single peep with it in. "No taking that out now," she said, wagging her finger. He nodded, knowing if he did he would lose his job and who knows what else.

The woman thanked the barber and sent him on his way, then she applied some baby lotion all over the man's body, which soon started to burn slightly on the freshly shaved skin. He whined into his pacifier but she paid it no mind as she selected the thickest diaper he'd ever seen - a diaper with purple teddy bears and clouds all over it.

"This will do for now," she said.

For now? What does she mean by that? He wondered. But of course he couldn't ask with his mouth plugged as it was. Folded out the diaper, slid it under his butt, and powdered him. It was only by grace of his fear and embarrassment that he didn't embarrass himself harder by getting an untimely erection during the diaper change. The woman seemed almost disappointed.

"What, no happy hello from Mr. Pee-Pee? You must really be a baby, then."

She had managed to embarrass him anyway, and he went right back to covering his face as she taped up the thick garment.

"All better!" she said, with a smile before helping the emasculated man down from the table. "I think it's about time for a bottle and a nap, don't you?"

He looked at her as if she had grown two heads but she just returned his look with a smug and superior grin, and he knew he had no choice. He just nodded glumly and allowed her to lead him to an oversized rocking chair where he was fed a bottle of milk in her lap. The bottle was quite large and by the time if was empty he felt like he had to pee once more. He tried to complain several times but the moment the pacifier had come out, the nipple of the giant bottle had gone in and between then and his burping there was no opportunity to do anything but gulp down the sweet liquid.

As soon as that was over, the pacifier went back into his mouth and he was led over to the big blue crib and told to get inside.

He looked at her and whined, but she was having none of it. She took out her cellphone, snapped a shot, and threatened to call his boss if he didn't behave. He still didn't want to go in, and a series of sharp smacks to his thighs shut that down immediately. She was clearly stronger than him, and he knew this wouldn't look good no matter how he sliced it, so he allowed himself to be put into the crib and locked in securely. She quickly covered the top with another set of bars which pulled out from the side of the crib and locked in place. Now he was well and truly stuck. As he looked at her through the bars, grabbing on them like a prisoner, she just patted his head and gave him a wink.

"Sleep tight, baby boy. And don't make Pee-Pees... unless you want to stay a baby a lot longer, that is."

His eyes were watering now. He knew he could not hold his bladder for long. Certainly not as long as she was probably planning to leave him there. About five minutes after she left, his bladder gave way, flooding his diaper with warm wetness and causing it to puff out in all directions. He lay back, humiliated, promising himself that he was walking off the job as soon as he was out of here. That's when the diaper drug kicked in.

"Hello? Doctor? The target has been neutralized. Too bad for him he had to deliver that Telegram to the wrong research lab. Don't worry. He won't be talking about what he may or may not have seen, not with this synthetic brain-melter derivative in his system. Yeah. Granny Greenbag's stuff. My son has plenty. It's a pleasure doing business with you, I'll be sending him out as soon as I'm done having my fun with him. It is Mommy's Day, after all."

To be continued...?