The Keyholder
"Coochie-coochie-coo!! Ahh-coochie-coochie-coo!! Whose da most adorwable widdle man-baybee in da whole wide world?? Who is it?! Huh?? Who is it??"
She dangled the stupid ring of rainbow plastic keys right in front of my burning face, letting them swing like a taunting pendulum. Each jingle felt like a slap to whatever scraps of adult dignity I had left. She knew exactly how much the infantilizing tone shredded me...and she loved watching it happen.
“D'awww!! look at youuuu! Look at Mommy’s big, helpless, padded princess all squirmy and desperate in his crinkly diapee! Does my sweet baybee boy see something he wikes? Hmm? Does he?”
She swung the keys closer, letting them brush the tip of my nose before snatching them back with a playful giggle. Her eyes sparkled with pure, wicked delight.
“Ohhh nooo…is something wongg??" she gasped in mock surprise, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. "Are these not the keys you wanted, sweetie-pie? These silly, jangly baybee keys that go clickity-clack and jingle-jingle-jingle? Silly me! I thought my widdle locked-up loser only wanted pretty plastic toys to play with!” She tilted her head, batting her lashes like she was genuinely puzzled. “You’re...you're not still thinking about these big, scary metal keys Mommy’s keeping nice and warm between her boobies, are you? Because those are for real grown-up boys! Not for silly little diaper messers like you!”
I whimpered, the sound coming out high, broken, and pathetic. The real keys—the ones that could finally free my aching, denied cock—were tucked right there in her cleavage, glinting just enough to torture me. My hips twitched uselessly, my cage throbbing inside the padding in protest.
“P-please, Mommy…” I tried, but she cut me off with a theatrical gasp.
“Uh-uh-uh!" She tutted, wagging her finger "No big-boy words, princess. If you want these special keys soooo badly, you’re gonna have to earn them the only way a baybee like you can. I want the most ridiculous, drooly, adorable baybee babbles you’ve ever made. I want raspberries. I want goo-goo ga-ga’s so silly they make me laugh till I cry. I want you waving those useless little mitten paws like you’re trying to fly to the moon. I want drool running down your chin, legs kicking in the air, the whole nine yards! Show Mommy how pathetic her locked-up diaper boy can be, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll think about it.”
My face burned hotter than the sun. But the ache between my legs and the way her voice wrapped around me like warm honey made resistance impossible. I hesitated at first, clinging to my last shred of dignity, but eventually the throbbing ache in my balls won out. I lifted my mittened hands and started flapping them wildly in front of my face like a little bird.
“Goo goo! Ga ga! Ma-ma! Ba-ba-baaa!” I whimpered in the highest, most ridiculous pitch I could manage. Spit flew from my lips as I blew the wettest, longest raspberry I’d ever made—ppppppbbbbbtttt!—right into the air. Drool immediately started sliding down my chin in a shiny trail. I didn’t wipe it. Just let rain across my chin and cheeks instead.
I rolled onto my back, kicking my padded legs up high in frantic bicycle kicks. The diaper crinkled so loudly it echoed off the nursery walls. “Ah-goo! Ah-goo-goo! Pwease pwease pwease, Mommy! Bay-bee need keys! Wittle baby so hawny in his diapee! Pppppbbbbbtttt! Goo-goo-ga-ga-goo!”
In a desperate attempt to earn more performance points, I flopped over onto my tummy, shoved my face into the mat, lifted my bottom high in the air and wiggled it back and forth like a happy puppy while still babbling nonsense. “Ma-ma! Ba-ba-ba! Wuv you Mommy! Pwease keys! Pwease unlocky!! Drooly bay-bee! Cage so tight! Wahhh-wahh!!!”
When I finally looked up, panting, drooling, chest heaving, my stomach plummeted. Mommy had her phone raised the whole time. The white light shining like a bright sign to show she'd been filming the whole thing.
Mommy clapped her hands together in delighted, mocking applause, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. “Oh my goooodness gracious! Look at that wittle tushie shaking! And those silly mitten waves! Who’s Mommy’s most ridiculous, drooly, desperate little diaper dumper, huh?? Is it you? Is it youuuu? Awww, you’re making such a big mess of yourself! Look at all that drool! Look at how pathetic you look!!”
I cringed in shame, head hung low, but despite it all, I was proud of my little performance. I looked up at her hopefully, drool still dripping down my chin.
She tilted her head and her eyes danced across the ceiling, she even tapped her lip to show that she was pretending to think. "Hmm...that was pretty good..." she mused, then shrugged. “But…i'm afraid it wasn’t quite good enough, sweetie." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Not for the real keys. I think Mommy needs to see even more desperation next time.”
My heart sank. A pathetic whine escaped me, like a dog denied its treat.
“Awww, don’t cry, my precious little padded prince!” she cooed, stroking my hair with one hand while still dangling the plastic keys with the other. “Mommy’s got a special consolation prize for her brave little babbler. Here… you can try these keys instead. Go on, take them, honey. Show Mommy how you’d unlock yourself if you were a big boy.”
Before I could even process it, she reached down, popped the tapes on my diaper with two quick rips, and peeled the front down. The cool air hit me instantly. My diaper was absolutely drenched, the entire front was dark yellow and sagging heavily. And there, completely exposed, was my steel chastity cage. My balls were swollen into large, purple plums. The tip of my denied cock was pressed hard against the end of the tube, leaking a steady, humiliating ropes of clear precum that ran down the cage and soaked into the already-wet padding beneath me. It glistened obscenely under the nursery lights. I looked so completely broken, purple, throbbing, and utterly helpless.
“Awww, would you look at that leaky little mess!” Mommy cooed, voice dripping with fake sympathy, then she pressed the plastic keys into my mittened hands. "Here, why dont you try to unlock yourself, sweetie! You never know...maybe one of these silly keys will actually work!" She inclined her head and gave me a firm look. One that told me I better play her little game for her amusement if I knew what was good for me. She lifted her phone again, and aimed it at me once more.
With a defeated sigh, I fumbled with the keys as much as my useless mittens would allow. Eventually, I managed to press one against the tiny lock with a clack. Nothing, of course. But I did it again anyway, more out of frustration than anything. Clack clack clack.
“Awww! Looks like that wasn’t the one…” she tsked, lips pursed in exaggerated disappointment. “Maybe try another, baby. Mommy’s rooting for you!”
I whimpered and whined pathetically as I performed another pitiful display for her. Fumbling the stupid plastic keys until i had one pressed between my mittens so I could pretend to give it an honest shot at unlocking me. Even with how futile the exercise was, my caged cock still twitched and bobbed in anticipation each time I pressed the plastic against it. Like it was too dazed to even understand. It just wanted out. But instead it had to endure this cruel torture.
Every clumsy attempt made the cage bounce and more precum ooze out in a fresh drip. I looked utterly ridiculous, drool still on my chin, soaked diaper open like a flag of surrender, mittens flapping as I poked at my own locked-up, leaking genitals.
Mommy’s giggles bubbled up brighter with every futile clack. “Ohhh, listen to that little symphony! Clack-clack-clack… drip-drip-drip… Poke-poke-poke! Look how swollen those poor balls are! So purple and tight and so full. And still nothing opens. Isn’t it just the cutest thing?? My big strong husband, reduced to drooling and leaking while he pokes his own cage with baybee toys… poor widdle guy!!"
She leaned in closer, the phone still rolling, her tone dipping into something sharper, sweeter, more cutting.
“Maybe if I hadn’t found a key to another woman’s apartment on your ring, we wouldn’t be in this little situation now, would we?? Hmm? Maybe if my husband hadn’t been sneaking around into someone else’s front door… Mommy wouldn’t have had to take away the only key that really matters. The one to your pathetic, leaky little pee-pee!”
The words landed like a slap. My stomach twisted. Heat flooded my face anew. The plastic key I’d been fumbling slipped again, landing in the sodden landscape of my diaper. My cock gave one last helpless throb, another thick rope of precum sliding free, but the shame burned hotter than the ache.
I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The babbling spilled out before I could stop it. High, broken and desperate.
“Pwease… Mommy… pwease…” My voice cracked into that humiliating infantile whine, mittens flapping weakly. “Pwease… pwease open for bay-bee… I sowwy… I so sowwy… no more bad boy… just Mommy’s bay-bee… pwease unlocky… pwease pwease pwease…”
The words tumbled faster, wet and garbled around the drool still coating my chin. “Goo goo… ma-ma… bay-bee need keys… weal keys… no more secwets… pwease Mommy… I be good… I be good widdle bay-bee fowevew… pppbbbttt… pwease open cage… pwease…”
I kept poking anyway. Clack, clack, clack. Each useless jab punctuated by another whimper, another plea, another fresh drip. The mittens slapped against my thighs, the keys kept sliding, and my whole body shook with the effort of debasing myself further, trying to erase what I’d done with sheer, ridiculous surrender.
Mommy’s smile widened, slow and satisfied, like she’d been waiting for exactly this collapse.
“That’s it, princess,” she cooed softly, almost tenderly. “Let it all out. Tell Mommy how sorry you are. Keep babbling, keep leaking, keep poking like the pathetic little diaper boy you are. Show the camera what real remorse looks like.”
I didn’t stop. The words kept coming. Goo goo's, pweases, sowwy's, ma-ma's, all mixed with wet raspberries and broken sobs, until finally the last key slipped from my useless mittens and clattered onto my wet, throbbing balls with a final, pathetic tinkle.
She tapped the screen her phone a few times, and I heard the unmistakable swoosh of a message being sent.
“We’ll see what my girlfriends decide. Maybe they will think your pathetic little baybee babble and apology is enough” she said sweetly. “Or maybe your little followers on Tumblr will have mercy on you. But judging by the last few polls… I wouldn’t get your hopes up, princess.”
She snapped the same cold, wet diaper back up tight over my still-leaking, still-throbbing cage with a few rips and crackly crinkles. "But until then..." she scooped the plastic keys back up, going right back to giggling and cooing once more.
“Coochie coochie coo! No coochie or goo goo’s for youuuu!”
