Make me yours, Mommy. Not just in name. Make me yours in every single way. Turn me into your little toy, your sweet little plaything. Transform me into the wonderful, mindless little sweetie you’ve always wanted…that I’ve always longed to be…
Leave your mark upon me, please, Mommy. Gently lead me into my nursery. Not *A* nursery. *My* nursery. Push me gently, ever so firmly and sweetly, down onto my changing table, Mommy. Strip me - not only of my clothes, but of my adult self. Lay me bare, Mommy, I beg you. Off with my shirt will come my pride. My jeans will slip off…and so too will my ego. Socks too - and with them my independence. Free me from my undershirt, and you will free me of my defensiveness. And yes, Mommy, take them. Take my big boy panties, please, please. And as you gently tug them from my yielding body, with them too will come my control, my masculinity, my modesty, my last shreds of adulthood…
Let me lay naked before you, Mommy. Leave me shivering and vulnerable, stripped of everything I call mine, everything the world sees as who I am. For I am something quite different in your hands. You will make me yours, taking my vulnerability, my trust, my yielding bare body, and turning me into a rare, wonderful being…for you.
Prepare me to become something new, Mommy. With your warm washcloth strip me of all adult scents, of the grime of the world, of my very own sweaty and dirty odors. Wash me clean. Make me your blank canvas upon which to repaint an image of the new me…of the me you wish to see. Stroke my body now with your warm, reassuring hands, Mommy. Caress me with that incomparably lovely baby lotion. Cover me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes in this beautiful scent, please. Let the scent of powder and nursery and innocent love wash over me, fill my nose, permeate my skin, enter my very being. Make me your baby, Mommy. Please. I beg you.
Remake me, Mommy. As you smile down at my naked body, as you stroke and massage the lotion into my bare skin, I will feel your fingers invading even the most private and intimate spaces of myself. I ask you to do this, Mommy. For I am yours…entirely. Let no part of myself resist, let no particle of my being remain untouched by you. I give you myself: naked, vulnerable, trusting. All I ask is love, Mommy…love and acceptance for the bare, trusting, shy self that I am.
Reshape me into your little plaything, your precious infant. I beg you, Mommy. Let me hear the wondrous rustle and crinkle of the diapers you will enfold me in. Let me watch, wonderingly, innocently, helplessly, as you unfold these garments that you know I crave with every fiber of my being. Show them to me, please, Mommy. Whisper to me about how endearingly sweet I will look in them, how much I need them, how all good babies deserve nothing else… Tell me, Mommy. Teach me. Train me. And oh, I will assent. I will gurgle and coo my joyful acceptance of every word you speak. I will shiver with breathless joy as you lift my naked ankles in your warm hands, as I hear my very own crinkling padding laid lovingly under me, as you settle me gently into the cloudlike comfort of my very own diaper: the very first of many hundreds and thousands to come…
You know what to do with me, Mommy. Let me feel the snowfall touch of the powder you softly rain down upon my naked belly and groin. Massage that beautiful powder deeper, penetrating my skin, perfuming my entire body with the heavenly, unmistakable scent of a true baby. Cover me with that powder, with the diaper that you pull softly up between my bare thighs. And as you cover me, know that as you do so I feel you covering me too with your love, with your motherly smiles and kisses, with the incredible gift of acceptance that you show me each and every day. Tape my diaper shut, Mommy. Please, oh please. And in that finality, in that secure tightening around my waist, in the incomparable thickness that will swaddle me and cling to me and follow my every movement, know that in it I sense the security of your love for me. You will never let me go, Mommy. I know it…I sense it. I feel it all around me.
Enrobe me in my most babyish clothing, Mommy. Please? I do not care what. Babies and playthings and helpless innocents like me do not know or care what Mommy chooses for them. All they ask is that they be warm, and soft, and comforting. And whatever you choose for me to wear, Mommy - whether sleep sack or onesie or adorable little sleeper or frilly dress - know that I love you for it. You are remaking me in the image you desire. I am your baby doll, yours to dress and undress and make and remake, precisely as you please.
Care for me, please, Mommy. I am delicate, I am fragile. I have needs, Mommy…infantile needs. Satisfy my instinctive craving to suckle, please, Mommy. I need to feel that soft, heavenly nipple yielding gently between my lips. I need to taste the warm spurts of milk on my tongue, the rich creaminess of your sweet, warm breast milk slipping easily down my gulping throat. Feed me, Mommy. Hold me close. Press me ever closer to your beating heart, to your nourishing breast. Nestle me in your bosom, cradle me in your strong arms, shield me from the world. Let me drink, Mommy. Let me fill my belly with your liquid love…and as I feed, know that you are my everything. You are within me, you are without me. You surround me, you make me, you suckle and swaddle and care for me as no one else does. I am your creation, and you are my universe.
And when I am done, Mommy, when I as your infant have hiccuped and burped and you have softly wiped my sticky mouth clean…carry me, please. Take me to my crib, to the safe haven of my dreams. Slip the wonderfully comforting nipple of my pacifier between my lips. Please, Mommy? It reminds me of you, you see. Let me feel you lowering me into my warm crib, pulling the blankets gently over my prone form, tucking them tightly around me. You know I will sleep, Mommy. I cannot help it, any more than I can help the sudden rushes of wetness that I now feel blossoming outward into my beautifully soft diaper. I will suckle, and slumber, and wet, and dream sweet dreams of you here in my crib. For there is nothing else I can do, and nothing else in the entire world I long to do, more than this.
Thank you, Mommy. Oh, thank you. I need this, and I need you…so incredibly much.
baratheonpilled
gracieabrams
gummygunk
dailybridgerton
andulkaphoto
