Unfair-Chapter 117: Thirsty (Patreon)

Chapter 117: Thirsty

Things went really well that week at school, all things considered. I’d play with Ivy, snicker with Chaz, trade barbs with Billy and gossip with Annie. Funnily enough, Tommy and I were starting to turn ear flicking into a ‘gotcha last’ competition.  Did some light antagonizing of the therapists, just because. Then lunch, naps, and playground time led by yours truly, and end it with a quiet hour or so sipping coffee with Beouf. My adult relationships rebuilt and mended, and two terrible threats removed, I was starting to be seen as a regular, if not wholly model student in Oakshire Elementary’s Maturosis and Developmental Plateau Unit.  Just one of the Little kids. Minimum security.

Time spent at Janet’s house had a slightly different vibe, unfortunately. School had become a place of rest of sorts.  All I had to do was choose not to be a heel and find the silver linings around the crinkling puffy clouds. I wasn’t allowed to bring Tracy’s tablet with me, so after school was now officially when the work and careful plotting could occur.  

Funnily, I was using my workplace as an escape from my home life. And Amazons thought I wasn’t a Grown-Up anymore! Ha!

It was early Thursday evening. I sat on the floor, with my back up against the couch, wearing nothing but a Yellow T-shirt with a cartoon bee and the diaper Janet had changed me into when we arrived home that afternoon. My feet had gotten tangled in the long sweatpants I’d worn that day and Janet opted for yanking them off and tossing them in the hamper. The woman was helpless handling anything that didn’t involve snaps. It was funny in an ironic sort of way.

She sat next to and above me on the couch, wearing her favorite navy blue dress. She busied herself checking emails on her phone and looking down over my shoulder every few minutes. The television was on but served mostly as background noise for both of us.

I busied myself pretending not to notice her interest; swiping and trying to destroy as many vegetables in one swing with a non-existent digital samurai sword; also known as my finger. The stupid tablet game was oddly addicting. There was no end to it, only a challenge to get a higher score.  Better yet, it was mindless stimuli that allowed me to mentally multi-task. I could think without thinking.

As opposed to my playground antics, this was at least slightly manipulative and schemey on my part. I’d purposefully glued myself to that screen from the second Janet put me down in her house until she forced me to part with it. I wanted the sight of me fiddling with it to become commonplace to the point of Janet losing interest.  She’d seemed surprised, almost disappointed that I didn’t ask for something new to cover up my diaper and instead requested she enter the tablet’s pass code so I could play some games.

‘Clark playing on his tablet’ needed to become as commonplace and mundane to her as ‘Clark watching the Muffets’. Something to be seen, registered, and immediately disregarded. That would give me the freedom needed to secure my escape.  It was devious, but necessary in the long term.  Playing games on the tablet had to be my ‘thing’ for the foreseeable future so that no one would think it odd as I fixated on it; secretly waiting for updates and private messages from MistuhGwiffin.

I didn’t dare ask for the tablet at bedtime again, however. I couldn’t have video games before bed become the rule. That would only result in Janet constantly peeking in on me in the darkness, wondering what I was doing and when I’d go to sleep. Occasionally, yes, I planned to make it a point to want to ‘finish a game’ or something, but I didn’t want her thinking that the only time I played with Tracy’s gift was when I was alone in my crib.  Better to make a showing of how much I loved it by tinkering with it every waking moment that I was allowed to.

I wasn’t yet bold enough to try to go directly back into MistuhGwiffin in earnest. The most I’d do is make sure that the tablet’s secret password still worked and that the site wasn’t blocked while Janet was preoccupied with cooking something in the kitchen or using the bathroom. For once, not being expected to do anything for myself or allowed access to a toilet held an advantage.  

Speaking of bathroom habits, Janet reached down from behind me and gave the front of my Monkeez a pat and a squeeze. ”Hmm…You’re not too wet. I think you’ll be okay for a while.”  Just in case, she picked me up off the ground and twisted me over her lap.

There was a time when I would have been instinctually bracing myself for a spanking in this position, but I knew none was coming.  Janet was safe in that way.  She started patting and squeezing between my legs and on my rear.  “Oh yeah,” she said with more confidence. “Most of that diaper is still dry. You’ve got a ways to go.”

Not quite two hours home and I was already wet again. I was marveling at the view from half way down after being pushed off the bridge.  I grimaced and squirmed on her lap, trying and failing to keep my concentration on the simple video game.  I ended up missing a stray rutabaga and the game ended.

“Janet!” I whined, “I just lost because of you!”  It was easy to sound annoyed, because I was. I immediately started a new game then and there across her lap.

“Your diaper not leaking or blowing out is more important than some dumb video game,” Janet tutted.  I felt the tug at the back of my waist band. “Not poopy”, and a light pat on the top of my head.

“Agree to disagree,” I droned. The first few rounds were easy. Nothing but carrots and potatoes to slice.  She chuckled and pulled my waistband back again.  “Not about the poopy part…” I said

Janet disturbed me one last time to sit me upright on the couch next to her. “Do you want to watch some Muffets?”

I remained hunched over, staring at the tablet. “No, thanks.”

“What about a story? Would you like to sit on my lap and let me read you a story?”

I scooted forward so that my legs were dangling off the side of the couch. “Maybe later.”

“Blocks? We could play with blocks together?”

I kept swiping and slicing. “Maybe another day.”

I wasn’t meaning to be cruel or callous to her. I was just committing to the bit. That’s what I told myself, anyway.  

“Are you sure none of that is hypnotic?” Janet asked.  “You’ve been entranced by that thing ever since you got it. You almost never obsess with a toy for an entire week.”

That was true enough. It was easier to get bored with baby toys. Harder to get attached to things that you thought were killing your brain. Not looking away from my tablet, I gave her the best alibi I could think of off the top of my head. “It’s the most technologically advanced piece of equipment I have access to.”

“You have that entire playset Miss Winters gave you!” Janet said. “That’s way more advanced and you don’t even touch it!”

I lost the game again. “Fine,” I growled. “It’s the most adult thing that I'm allowed to do.”

“You think playing video games is adult?” Janet asked, curiously.

“More adult than playing with blocks and stuffies and stacking rings.” I hadn’t meant to, but an edge of resentment had crept in somewhere along the way.  In trying to get a ruse across, I’d accidentally picked at not-quite-healed wounds.  Mine? Hers? Both?  Yes. Take your pick.

I heard Janet’s voice take on a sadder tone, more anxious tone.  “I like playing those things with you, though.”

“Well, I just feel like playing this by myself right now.  I got a cool new thing, and I wanna play with it.”  I was halfway between snipping at her and pleading with her to leave me alone.  Please…please…leave me alone.

Janet flinched and looked like she was struggling with something. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Gotta go to the bathroom.”

I kept her in my periphery while I continued to play. “Number one or number two?”

Janet looked mildly perturbed. “Why do you want to know?”  

“You get to know when I pee and poop. Why don’t I get to know about yours?”  In reality, I was trying to gauge how long I’d have to fiddle with the tablet while she was in the bathroom.

“Do you want to come sit with me?”  That was a strange, oddly sincere sounding offer.  She wanted to be vulnerable…more intimate with me.

My eyes darted away from the game and I almost missed a turnip. “No thanks.”

She patted me on the head. “I’ll be back.”

She walked off to her bedroom to use the master bath. I waited till I heard the bedroom door close, immediately lost the game again, and backed out of it to the home screen. I quickly switched it off and on and the same number pad with a code I supposedly didn’t know came up again. I punched in Tracy’s code.

1-0-5-6-5

The number pad disappeared and a near barren screen with just an internet browser icon pulled up.  Good. Everything was still up where I’d left it. I’d been doing this once a night, but hadn’t dared to go further.

Urged forward by guilt and ambition I hurriedly opened up the browser and went to make a burner email.  “Ben Taken.”  An obvious pseudonym, and a rush job. But it’d work and I could remember it. Now to make a new MistuhGwiffin account…

The master bedroom creaked open and thudded closed again and I exited out. Then flicked the power once, and punched in the parental code to get back to my game.

1-3-5-7-9

Problem! Big problem! It didn’t work! The screen shook violently.  “Incorrect Access Code” it read.  Shit shit shit shit!  Janet had been experimenting with the parental controls and had changed the password! I’d been locked out entirely, and I only knew the one code! Now she’d know I’d backed out of the games! It wasn’t much of a tell, but it was one step closer to what I really wanted to do with the tablet than I was comfortable with her knowing about!

I tried to guess!

2-4-6-8-0.  “Incorrect Access Code”

1-2-3-4-5.  “Incorrect Access Code”

5-4-3-2-1.  “Incorrect Access Code”

What was Janet’s birthday? Month and Year of her High School Graduation? College?  What random series of numbers could be distinct and important enough for Janet to remember?  I had to get back to that game so I could appear innocent!

I switched off the tablet and smacked it on my lap. “Crud!”  Might as well fake like I was rage quitting.

A shadow fell over me. I saw Janet’s faint reflection in the powered down tablet.  “Excuse me…” she said softly.

I looked up, trying to seem as childish, if not  innocent, as possible and certain I was failing.  “I accidentally…!” Before I could bullshit some plausible story about the game being rigged and me turning the tablet off in anger, I got a better look at her.

She’d changed out of her dress and had come out wearing only a loose yellow t-shirt and a pair of white granny panties. She’d let her hair down and tied it back into a loose ponytail. It was nowhere near as obvious as mine, there was a slight and subtle padded bulge coming from her underwear from a sanitary pad.   

I’d seen the woman naked before. As recently as last week we’d shared a bed. She kissed and hugged me constantly, and she had access to my genitals on a daily basis. There was nothing inherently scandalous or sensual about how she was dressed.  Surely, I’d seen her in more revealing and attractive outfits. This was indoor weekend wear; lazy Sunday indoors type of stuff.  What people wore when they had no intention of leaving the house but still felt the need for clothing over full nudity.

But the scheming gears in my head stopped turning for a second or two.

We matched.  

She held up to her chest a thick stack of disorganized papers. I noted the blue stripes of loose leaf notebook paper, the crisp whiteness of printed worksheets, and the frayed edges and glazed sheen of sheets torn directly out of a workbook. My Amazon stood in front of me, holding them the way a dog might present a dead bird it found with hope shimmering in her eyes.

“I got way behind on grading papers last week,” Janet smiled weakly down at me. “It’s mostly busy work I left for the sub. Most of it probably won’t even go in the gradebook besides did the kids do it or not?  But would you like to help me correct them anyways?”

“Janet?” I said. “Are you asking me to help you again?”

Her smile gained some sunshine to it.  “If you want.” A moment. “Do you want to?”

I quietly screamed inside my own head. This was a trap. I was being played and I knew it.

“What about Little Voices?” I asked.  “Shouldn’t we be getting ready to leave for it or getting dinner first at something?” My eyes accidentally looked past the papers when I mentioned dinner and my mouth went dry.  How many bottles of Janet’s milk had I gulped down right in front of Amy and the others?

Janet shrugged casually.  “We don’t have to go to every meeting every single week. A lot of what they do can be kind of repetitive.” That was true. “But if you want to go there to hang out with your friends… “

My hands waved in front of me. “No, no, no! I just don’t understand…” I motioned to all of her. “This.”

“You said you wanted something more adult, and nothing about your Maturosis seems to be affecting your academics.” Her eyes went sideways, and she blushed. “That and I missed grading papers with you.”  

“But what you’re wearing…!” I almost stammered.

“Why should you be the only one who gets to be comfortable, kiddo? It’s my house, too.”

She refused to say it directly, but she didn’t really need to. She’d taken my complaint as a cry for her help, but her crazy Amazon brain wouldn’t allow her to view me as anything but a child. This was her attempt at a compromise. Since anything more mature than preschooler fare would read as playing dress up, she chose to take herself down a notch and strip down to a t-shirt and underwear. The Fall Festival was almost two weeks in the past, but Janet was still playing at complimentary costumes.

It wasn’t as drastic as Zoge offering to diaper herself and bowing before me, but Janet had acted on her idea without needing to ask.

“Do you want to grade papers with me, or not?”

I did the social math in my head. If we went to Little Voices, I’d be denied tablet access anyways. If we stayed home and I ignored her stupid, heartfelt, charming gesture, she’d likely up the crazy next time or deny me the tablet altogether. Tablet time was done for the night no matter what. The smart move was to play along.

It still didn’t feel right giving in like this. Felt like I was lying to myself.

“Clark?”

“I’m thinking…I’m thinking…”

What wasn’t a lie was a sudden spike of conscience. I’d fucked around with those kids’ grades out of spite for their teacher.  Least I could do is grade them fairly again. Maybe more than fairly, come to think of it. Make up the difference with a bit of positive book cooking. I had more long term factors to juggle beyond looking innocent. Karma, for example.

‘Ben Taken’ and his MistuhGwiffin.web account could wait another night.

I slid the tablet off my lap and placed it gently on the cushion that Janet had been occupying previously.  “Okay,” I said. “Sure.  I’d like that.”

She helped me slide down off the couch and we waddled off to the kitchen together. She scooped me up, but before setting me down in my highchair she stared down the back of my diaper again.  “Juuuuust checkin…”

“Why?”

“Wanted to make sure you were just thinkin’ a second ago and not doing anything else.”

“Do I get to pull back yours?” I jabbed.

Janet wagged her finger at me. “Don’t push it, mister.”

I giggled and grinned. “Whaaaaat?”

“You know what.” Her lips weren’t, but her eyes were laughing. She slapped a small pile of papers and a red crayon on the tray of my highchair. “Let’s get to work.”

I picked up the crayon, ready to grade.  Tons of papers would be going home with a very tiny ‘C.G.’ down at the bottom.  “Yes, ma’am.”
*********************************************************************************************
“You are old, Father William, the young man saaaaaid. Your hair has become ve-ry whiiiite.”

Grading papers again had been unusually rewarding.

“And yet you incessant-ly stand on your head. Do you think at your age it is riiiiight?”

The kids were really coming along in math. Spelling needed work. Science was off the charts.

“In my youth, Father William replied to his son, I feared it might injure the braaaaaain!”

Dinner had been pretty good too. Roast chicken pulled and cut into bite size pieces and green beans.

“But now that I’m perfect-ly sure I have none, why I do it, again and agaaaaaain!”

I hadn’t been allowed to feed myself, but every bite offered was first dipped in barbecue sauce. It was no swill, but it was good.

“I am old! I am old! I will tell you again I am old!”

The sauce was store bought sweet and spicy, with heat that snuck up on you after tasting the sweet, but the milk was cow. I could really taste the difference.

“You are old, Said the youth, as I mentioned befoooore. And have grown most uncommon-ly faaaaat.”

Either that, my mind cringed, or Janet was emptying out entire jugs of the stuff and replacing it with her own.  

“Yet you turned a back somersault in at the doooor. Pray what is the reason of thaaaaat?”

Janet held me in the shower as steam rose around us and warm water cascaded down my naked back. The nonsense song she sang was light, fast and bouncy, but we rocked slowly in the shower together. I rested my head against her shoulder, and let my eyelids droop.

She was singing in her deeper, throatier, more natural range and not the nasally falsetto she tried when singing nursery rhymes and lap ditties at Little Voices.  If she sang like this during my changes, I might not mind it so much.

I picked my head up and made a face to myself.  Nevermind.  My brain decided that I would, in fact, prefer not to sing songs about me riding a horsey or how fresh and clean I smelled at all.

Janet stopped her song and lathered my back and shoulders.  “I want to get a shower chair.”

“Why?” I said directly into her ear.

Her hand rubbed my back. “It’ll make it easier to shower together. I can sit down and you can sit on my lap. Make it easier to reach everything at once.”  To illustrate her point she had to adjust and adjust me so she could reach my opposite shoulder.  “Make it more comfortable. For both of us.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”  

A mental image leapt up at me.  I pictured myself, sitting naked in the shower in Janet’s lap, facing her. Her breasts directly in front of my face. Her hands rubbing my back, and moving to the back of my head.

“Good,” Janet said. “I think there’s a pharmacy that has them. We’ll stop by there after school tomorrow.”

Her breasts were already against my body right now. They felt so hard and full.  Massive. The kind of thing a man could smother himself in.  Part of me wanted to touch them, morbidly curious if anything would squirt out if prodded.  But what would that mean for me? Would she misread that as a hint and start spiking my drinks again? Was she still expressing? How long before her milk dried up?

I started to ask. “How…long…until…?”  Such a weird thing to talk about. I had to phrase this carefully or else I might send her into a full on relapse.

“You could help me wash if you wanted,” she interrupted. She flipped me over and cradled me so she could get at my chest and belly.  “I wash you, and you wash me. You could help me rinse out my hair. Make sure I don’t miss a spot. That sort of thing.”

Images of us bathing each other, my hands rubbing her all over, running my fingers through her hair while she smiled and giggled at me.  Rubbing her shoulders all the way to her forearms the way she did mine.  Her stomach. Her legs. Her…other things…

“Yeah…” My voice cracked. “Sure. If you want. Ja-”

Janet interrupted me again. “Do you um…need to use the green stuff?” The temperature of the water had turned us both pink, but I could tell Janet was blushing. The woman had wiped my own shit off of my balls some morning, but still got awkward at seeing me with an erection.

“No!” I said, equally embarrassed and a hypocrite. My hands retreated down to try and cover myself. I did my best to think of other things: The taste of hot tequila; the smell of Billy’s BM’s; literal dog shit; Mandy in punk rock attire; Cassie; my missing wedding ring;  just me being able to grab my own dick for once and start jacking it right then and there.   “Maybe…”

“It’s okay,” Janet said, almost but not quite cooing.  “It’s perfectly natural.  Mommy does it too, sometimes.” Hearing that did NOT help.  “We’ll take care of it once we’re all done here.”

Images of me in nothing but a slime filled diaper grinding against Lion attempted to chase away my arousal.  It failed. “That’s okay, Mommy!” I said. “I’m fine! Baby’s fine, see?”  The baby talking trick squashed my libido once.  One look down below showed its failure.

“Okay…” Janet said, doubtfully.  Who was she going to believe? Me or my penis?  “It’s okay if you change your mind.”

The shower went on forever. Every touch. Every thought.  Every sensation real or imagined lead back to a building uncomfortable ache. We were in there together until the water turned tepid, then cold.  I was shivering and quivering, but my baser half was still standing at attention after Janet wrapped me in a two.

This was getting to be too much.  I needed to be able to focus. Get it out of my system.  Fighting it wasn’t helping. Better to just let it out into my diaper and get it over with it than to let it linger and suffer unnecessarily. The body needed what the body needed, no matter how disgusted the mind would be over it..

“Mommy,” I said on the changing table a few minutes later.  “I think I’m getting a rash.”

Still dripping from the shower, and wearing a only a bathrobe, Janet’s eyes fluttered. Intoxicated at being called the M-word in private, but also wondering why I was using it.  We both knew I only called her that when I wanted something.  She unbundled the towel and lifted my legs off to inspect my bum. “A rash?” she said. “I don’t see anything.”

“Maybe use some of the rash stuff anyways?” I said.  “Just in case?  The green stuff?”

“Ooooh! A rash!” Janet nodded in understanding. “Changed your mind?”

“No,” I lied.  “I just might have a rash.”  It was a needless lie. My own body was telling on me but my pride wouldn’t let me admit it.

“Sure, baby boy,” she smirked. “Sure.”  She took a deep breath. “Mommy just needs to take a second and think about what she needs to do to help you out.”  

“I don’t need an extra pillow,” I volunteered.  “Just…time to think. Alone.”

“Gotcha:”

The new diaper was unfolded taped up quick and loose. Janet pulled a long sleeve pajama shirt over me but no bottoms and sat me up. The bottle of goop came out and the hose went down my front. She pumped it down the front and then readjusted the tapes, sealing me back in the wonderful morass.

The things you never think you’re going to have to do twice…

My pants were already warming up in an alarmingly pleasant way while she carried me over to the crib. “Take Lion, please!”  I didn’t want him around to see this moment of weakness.  Motherfucker couldn’t even close his eyes.

“Sure sure,” Janet chirped and took the stuffed animal from me. Next she took the baby monitor with her. True privacy awaited. I started to positively throb with anticipation. I lowered to my knees, gripped the bars and gritted my teeth. Not done yet, Janet doubled back and gave me a kiss on the cheek.  “Good night, baby boy,” she said. “I love you.  Have fun!”

The lights went off, leaving me only a nightlight to navigate by.  That was fine. I really only needed touch.  Everything else was positively repellent.

“Have fun?” I whispered to myself, pawing at my front with one hand while arranging a pillow with the other. “Who says that?”

She was supposed to be disgusted or grossed out at this, but seemed much more comfortable with the idea than she had the first time. Probably had something to do with Little Voices. Or maybe she’d just gotten over it.  Changing diapers was objectively gross, but it was easy enough to get over because the kid needed it.  Maybe the same logic applied to her regarding the thought of me masturbating. Me rubbing one out in my padded pants was gross, but something that needed to happen.

That’s all this was, too, I assured myself.  Just masturbating.  Just letting off some steam.  Less stress. Full belly. Good vibes. Confidence increased. A pretty woman touching me in warm water. My body was just reacting naturally to all the stimuli. Nothing else.

Just like sex, there were all kinds of masturbation: Boredom masturbation, beating off because you’re lonely, rubbing one out as stress relief, or because you got a nasty thought in your head that you just needed to get rid of.  

So yeah. Relief. This was just a bodily response.  Purely mechanical. No different than any other need.  Nothing wrong or lewd or emotional about it.

I grabbed my pillow and mounted it.  “Let’s just get this over with,” I mouthed.  I started working my hips and grinding, immediately feeling a guilty satisfaction while I thrust my hips and pressed my dick up against the flufffy mount, the goop sloshing around and warming it.

Oh yeah.  My body liked this.  My body really liked this.  My stupid penis didn’t care. As long as it was warm, wet, and hard, it was happy.

A low moan hummed out of me while I tried to get my mind in sync with my body. I hummed and humped, building up a slow but steady rhythm like waves on the beach. It really wasn’t so bad once I started accepting it.  The crinkle and the rustle of the plastic undersheet didn’t matter so much; easy to tune out with just a bit of humming.

No wonder the stuff sloshing around my crotch doubled as a Little aphrodisiac. A wet and squishy diaper really could feel intoxicatingly similar to making love from a sensory perspective. Bonus points because I wasn’t presently stewing in my own piss.  

I needed to be more than just getting my dick wet and squishy. That happened every day. I needed something more stimulating. More enticing.

“Cassie…” I whispered to myself and closed my eyes.  

Instantly I was on top of her. Mounting her and entering her, making love like we used to. My imagination changed the crinkle to the sound of distant fireworks.  It was a celebration. A fantasy.  A prediction of my future.  My own low moans became hers as she laid spread eagle in front of me in the middle of some mythical open field.

I wanted to kiss her. Wanted to feel her.  Wanted to be more than inside her, but with her. Our breathing synchronized and I leaned forward to cup her petite breasts in my hands.  I wanted to play with them; hold them in my hands.  Suck on them and tease her until they turned hard as diamonds.  

In real life I lurched forward and gripped crib bars.  

In my mind Cassie’s breasts were rock hard in my grip, and much bigger than I remembered.  Dribbles of breast milk leaked out of them and my mouth started to water.

I didn’t stop humping the pillow, but my face scrunched up in the shadows. My body was still happy, even if my mind was disturbed. Where had that thought come from?

That milk wasn’t for me. I didn’t want that. We didn’t have kids. Unbidden, I imagined Cassie sticking her thumb in her mouth and sucking it.  I opened my eyes to the nursery and bit my lip as hard as I could.  “Stop it!”  I closed my eyes again and pictured my wife. Why the fuck was she wearing a diaper?!

I didn’t stop humping, though. My lower half thrilled at the mix of speed, slickness, pressure, and friction no matter what my top half was experiencing.  Top half wasn’t making bottom half’s job any easier.

Focus! Focus!  I had to get this done and over with!

Mandy naked on the changing table, her tits out, her diaper soaked, and her face covered while her Mommy took out her phone and snapped a picture thinking she was playing peekaboo.

Yeah. That would work. Boobs. Little boobs. Her face was covered up, too.  Just a pretty picture on the internet.  Ignore the diaper, too.  Or fuck it, go ahead and think about the diaper. That didn’t make someone any less of an adult.  Just think about the boobs. Anything. As long as I didn’t think about-

Janet was singing her silly shower song again. We were both naked, sitting in the new shower chair.  She was rubbing my chest. Next it would be my turn to rub hers.

No! Stop!

Eyes open again. I kept humping, the pressure inside me rising by the second. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Make it work. Make it happen. Get it over with, my body demanded. My eyes didn’t close again, but the mental images kept coming no matter what.

Kissing a random stranger. Naked girl. A stranger. A perfect figment. A woman who knew nothing about me and didn’t care. Just wanted to please me. A woman who would let me touch her and she could touch me back.

Oh yeah. This was hot!  Just don’t think of a certain-

Dark haired Amazon that I saw every day and looked at me with complete adoration. Someone with massive heaving breasts that no Little ever could possess and curves that only accentuated her womanhood. That and a beautiful singing voice.

The slideshow kept flickering in the nursery. A thousand scenes played out in the shadows beyond the crib.

Me. With Cassie. Alone.  Both of us naked. In a field. Making love. Wedding rings returned.  Both of us escaped and free.  Crinkling was just fireworks. The pillow was her. The wonderful warm wet feeling around my dick inside her va-

Janet and I naked together. Me sitting in her lap. Her washing my chest.  Me being asked to wash hers.  Mommy’s shower time helper.

Speed increased.  Thrusting became more erratic. I moaned louder, wishing I’d asked for a pacifier. Something to stop me. Something to suck on. Something to suckl-

NO!

Cassie was kissing me, again. We were in her college bedroom. We didn’t care if her parents heard us.  We’d go at it like rabbits all night and sleep till noo-

Janet’s kisses to my cheek and forehead. Her soft and constant declarations of ‘I love you’ driving my heart and my hips forward again and again and again.  She holds me as I tremble helplessly in her grasp.

NO! NO! STOP IT!

Cassie making out with me, her tongue probing, curious, and excited.  We’re at our house. In our bed. The covers are gone because we kicked them off.  We’ll be wrapped in them soon enough.  We’re about go get so wild that we’ll fall off our enormous bed and need the extra pillows we shoved out of the way to break our fa-

Me sitting on Janet’s knee. I’m not naked anymore. Wrapped around my waist is a sopping wet Monkeez.

FUCKING GROSS! NO!

Cassie on her knees, putting her mouth around my cock. We’re in the middle of the road and she’s giving me the greatest blowjob ever, putting on a show for everybody at Mistybrook. This never happened, but I sometimes fantasized abou-

I’m straddling Janet’s leg.  My diaper is wet and warm. Filled with goo? I don’t know. I don’t care. We’re on a bus.  Don’t know where we’re headed. No one pays any mind to us.

CLARK! YOU ASSHOLE!

Cassie-

Janet’s knee is bouncing, making me grind up against her thigh, slipping and sliding against it.  I’m having to hold onto her for balance and control.  She’s holding my hands. We’re playing horsey. I’m rock hard and about to explode.  

PLEASE! NO!

Cas-

I moan but the sound only makes Janet lactate. Her crazy Amazon brain interprets my voiced frustrations as a baby’s cry and her body reacts appropriately.  Her nipples start to drip-drip-drip. Breastfeeding is allowed in public. My penis throbs and my mouth hungers.

NOT THIS!

Ca-

My mouth opens. I don’t wonder how the milk will taste. Because I already know. I’ve had it so many times.  Just never directly from the source. I wonder…

WHY?

C-

Janet!

My wi-

Mommy!

I climaxed and collapsed in a heap of shame. My head throbbed and my face made a million contortions in the dark, but no tears came.  My body was already starting to untense, and my breathing slowed dramatically.  My muscles were already relaxing.  Meanwhile my mind argued with itself on what I just imagined, whether I really imagined it, why I pictured what I pictured, and whether it mattered as long as I got my rocks off. I drifted to sleep reaching no real conclusion.