Mommy’s Little Secret
Disclaimer: The image is property of @missfoxiemommy Toby’s workday had been long, the kind that made his shoulders ache and his mind buzz with spreadsheets and deadlines. As he pulled his car into the driveway, he let out a slow breath, already feeling the tension melt away. Home. His sanctuary. And more importantly, her... his wife, his love, the one person who could turn the world’s chaos into something manageable.
The front door creaked as he pushed it open, the familiar scent of vanilla and something sweet, maybe cookies, maybe her lotion, wrapping around him like a hug. “Honey?” he called, his voice already slipping into that softer tone he only used for her.
“In the living room, baby boy,” her voice floated back, warm and teasing. “Hurry up, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Toby kicked off his shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the door, and padded down the hall. The moment he stepped into the living room, his breath hitched. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in a golden, late-afternoon glow. The TV was already on, the bright, cheerful theme song of Bluey playing softly in the background. A pile of Legos sat on the coffee table, half-built and waiting. And there she was, his Mommy, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over her lap and a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
“There’s my big boy,” she cooed, patting the space beside her. “Come here. You look exhausted.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Toby crossed the room, his tie already loose, his shirt untucked from the drive home. The moment he was close enough, she reached up and tugged him down onto the couch, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. “Let Mommy take care of you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple.
Toby melted into her touch, his body already relaxing. This was his favorite part of the day, the moment he could shed the adult world and just be. Be little. Be hers.
Mommy’s hands were gentle but firm as she stripped him out of his work clothes, peeling away the slacks, the socks, the briefs. Toby wiggled a little, his face heating as the cool air hit his skin. He knew what was coming next, and the anticipation made his toes curl.
“Such a good boy, letting Mommy change you,” she praised, her voice dropping into that sweet, condescending tone that made his stomach flip. She reached for the diaper on the coffee table, a thick, babyish one. Toby’s cheeks burned.
“Uh-uh,” Mommy tutted, tapping his hip lightly. “Lift up. That’s it.”
The diaper rustled as she slid it beneath him, the crinkle loud in the quiet room. Toby bit his lip, his fingers twisting in the blanket as she fastened the tapes snugly around his waist. The thickness between his legs was immediately comforting, the way it hugged him, the way it owned him. He let out a shaky breath, his body sagging into the couch.
“There we go,” Mommy murmured, smoothing her hands over the front of his diaper. “All nice and snug. You’re gonna be so comfy, aren’t you?”
Toby nodded, his face buried against her shoulder. He could already feel the warmth spreading through him, the way his mind went fuzzy and soft at the edges. The diaper was wet, suddently wet but he didn’t care. Mommy didn’t seem to mind either. If anything, the way her fingers lingered as she adjusted the leg cuffs made him think she liked it.
“Now, what’s my good boy need?” Mommy asked, already reaching for the hem of her shirt. Toby’s breath hitched as she pulled it over her head, revealing the soft lace of her nursing bra. His mouth watered.
“M-milk, Mommy?” he whispered, his voice small.
“Such a polite little thing,” she cooed, unclasping her bra and letting it fall away. Toby’s eyes locked onto her, his body humming with need. She guided him into position, helping him latch with practiced ease. The first pull of sweet, warm milk had him moaning, his fingers clutching at her sides.
Mommy carded her fingers through his hair, her other hand resting possessively on his diapered bottom. “That’s it, baby. Drink up. You’ve been so good today.”
Toby whimpered around her nipple, his free hand reaching blindly for the pile of Legos. He fumbled with the blocks, his movements slow and uncoordinated as he sank deeper into his little headspace. The TV played in the background, the bright, cheerful voices of Bluey mixing with the soft sounds of his sucking, the occasional crinkle of his diaper as he shifted.
He wasn’t thinking about work anymore. He wasn’t thinking about anything, really. Just the warmth of Mommy’s skin, the taste of her milk, the way his diaper squished a little every time he moved.
Mommy pulled him off with a soft pop, wiping his mouth with her thumb. “Had enough, sweet boy?”
Toby nodded, his eyelids heavy. He was so relaxed, his body boneless and warm. Mommy helped him lie down, tucking a pillow under his head and draping the blanket over him. His Legos were still scattered across his lap, half-built and forgotten.
“You just rest, okay?” she murmured, brushing a kiss over his forehead. “Mommy’s right here.”
Toby mumbled something incoherent, his fingers twitching toward the Legos again. He could hear Bluey in the background. It was perfect. He was perfect.
