Trailing off uncertainly. Trepidation and anxiety choking me. My heart hammering in my ears. My tongue thick and unwieldy, struggling under the stern, swollen bulb of the oversized paci-gag locked in my mouth.
"Mmmhhooo- mmmhheeeee…?" Still nothing.
I winced as another cramp gripped my guts, for all the world like an iron fist clenching within me. I didn't quite know which of the hundred and one diabolical things in that book Mommy had chosen to punish me today – or for that matter, whether it had come from the book at all, rather than her own devious imagination. But whatever she'd done, it was forcing a cold sweat to break out on my face, my entire body cringing at both the pain and the disgusting thought of what I'd be forced to do…
"Hmm, interesting." She was murmuring to herself – not me. I was her gagged, submissive little baby slave, cowering here before her and trying desperately to get her attention. Not because I thought she might relent and let me use the toilet like the grown man I once was. No, of course not – that would be laughable. I simply needed to comply with the orders she'd given me earlier that morning: orders to come get her attention if I thought I might make a mess in my pants, and which I assumed would result in her sweetly cruel taunting…
If only she would look at me!
But of course she didn't. Her book was far too fascinating, and I… well, I didn't matter. Sure, the diapers were humiliating. The pacifiers were embarrassing. The condescending baby-talk made me blush and squirm. But there was nothing, I now began to realize, quite so degrading and mortifying as standing there with pleading eyes and burbling moans, trying desperately to communicate as one adult to another… and simply being ignored.
Ignored because… well, because as far as she was concerned right now, I was just a babbling infant, to be noticed or ignored at her pleasure.
Another groan escaped my pacified lips, and I sank to my knees as another sudden spasm of pain racked my belly. "Mmmhhhmmoooo…" The pressure was building, intensifying, bubbling and churning within me. I knew full well that I wouldn't be able to hold it much longer… and that once I felt the inevitable explosion into my double-thick diaper, it would be far too late to tell her anything. Much less beg for mercy.
But still those elegant pumps remained calmly in place, her face quiet and studious as her eyes traveled swiftly back and forth across the page. "So then you add the tampon, hmm? Interesting, very interesting…" She was deliberately ignoring me, letting me make a pathetic fool of myself before her. A silly, desperate little baby slave, begging wordlessly for his stern Mommy's attention…
So when that first whimper of terror escaped me, when that first hot trickle of diarrhea escaped my laboring sphincter, I knew I had lost. No sense holding back any more. I needed relief desperately, and in that moment I no longer cared how disgusting it was. Sure, I could feel the seat of my diapers filling and ballooning with the hot, reeking mess of my laxative-strained bowels. I could sense them swelling and sagging between my shaven thighs – could hear the wet, burbling farts that were the audible evidence of my pathetic lack of control. But that didn't matter nearly as much as the dread of Mommy's impending voice: a cutting insult, a harsh reprimand, a laugh of disbelief at what a smelly little loser I was…
I braced myself for it. And waited.
But even when the tempest in my gut had subsided, and the swollen, pudding-like mass in my pants had begun to cool, and I shuddered as my body relaxed once again… she remained silent. I raised my fearful gaze upward at last, dreading what I might find…
Nothing. Nothing but the same calm, unperturbed face of a studious Mommy researching the very best ways to humiliate her big baby.
And then it hit me. She wasn't scolding me now because… there was no need. For what more humiliating treatment could there possibly be, after all, than to accept even the most disgusting of dirty diapers as nothing more than the usual? Why on earth would a Mommy expect anything else from her little infant?
So it was that in that awful, reproachful silence, I began to sob. They were not the sobs of a grown man. They were the plaintive, convulsive wails of a helpless, dirty baby… a baby whose only hopes for a change lay in crying loudly and desperately enough to get his dear Mommy's attention.
Image Credit: The amazing @pennybarber
Please don't remove my caption or accreditation, okay? Oh, and check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my short stories!
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