You're Peter, a man in his late 20's. You're also secretly kinky. You're an ageplayer and have diaper and spanking fetishes. Back in college, you told a girl about it once, after a night of drinking, and she spanked you, and sat on your face. It was amazing. But you weren't really compatible, and the relationship kind of went nowhere. You've kept this information to yourself since then. Someone at work invited you to a party, and you decided to go. Now you're sitting on the couch, nursing a beer, when you see this amazing looking woman walk in.
She sees you looking at her, and comes over. "Hi," she says. "I'm Wendy."
You tell her your name, and she laughs. "Just like in the story," she says, "like in Peter Pan. Are you a lost boy?" she asks you.
"Maybe," you say. "Why? Do you like caring for lost boys?"
Wendy smiles. "Kinda," she says.You smile back at her. There's something nurturing about her. She gives off an air kind of like a kindergarten teacher or maybe a nanny. She's wearing this floral print dress. You find yourself blushing and having "those thoughts" about her. You decide to say something daring. "Caring how? Like bubble baths and spankings?" you say, saucily.
Wendy laughs. "Maybe I'll spank you and give you bubble bath," she says. "You look like you could use one."
"Wait," you say, laughing, "do I look like I could use a spanking? Or a bubble bath? Which one did you mean?"
Wendy smiles. "What if I meant both?" she asks, kissing you on the lips.
You kiss her back. "Oh my," you say.
"Let's go someplace we can talk," Wendy says. She nods towards the balcony.
"Come on, let's go out there." You nod, and go out onto the balcony. It's quieter out here, but you can still hear the music from inside. Wendy sits down in one of the deck chairs. You sit down next to her. "So how much are you just joking around about that stuff, Peter?" she asks you. Maybe it's the two beers you have in you, but you feel like you can trust her, so you open up. "Truthfully, Wendy, I've wanted this sort of thing most of my life."
"Oh?" Wendy says. She takes your hand in hers.
You nod. "I've been daydreaming about a woman treating me like a baby, since puberty I guess." You blush as you say this, unable to believe you're telling her this.
"That is interesting," she says with a smile. "Why do you think that is?"
You blush more, and consider saying that you don't want to discuss it, but you decide to go for broke. You're daring after all. You say that you don't know why. But you do know you've always wanted to be with a strong woman. Not a cruel, whip-wielding sort. You don't want someone to call you a worm, and say you're garbage or anything like that. But the idea of a nurturing woman who tells you what to do, makes you do things, and who does things to you, that's always been your secret desire.
"I like a woman to take charge. I mean, I'm not a complete wuss or anything, but I definitely want to be taken care of. In every way." You blush more. Wendy smiles knowingly.
"Like being spanked when you're naughty?" she asks.
You laugh in spite of yourself. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."
"Do you want to be my baby?"
You can't believe what you're hearing.
"What do you mean?" you ask her, just to make sure.
"Would you like me to take care of you, and spank you when you're naughty?"
You're speechless for a moment. "Yes," you finally say.
She goes on. "And how do you feel about my putting you in a diaper?"You cannot believe she's asking you. You're stunned. It's like the universe has brought you to this perfect moment. You shake a little. "Peter?" Wendy asks you, seeing you tremble.
You say quietly, that you've waited for years to meet someone who would want to do that to you, to diaper you. You feel embarrassed to admit it. Wendy looks into your eyes, and holds your hand in hers. "I'm glad you told me," she says. "It isn't something I have a lot of experience with, but I would be happy to do that for you."
"Truthfully," she admits, "it's something I've had a lot of fantasies about. When I was a kid, I saw an episode of Jerry Springer about adult babies, and it immediately made me have fantasies about being a mommy to an adult baby myself." She pauses, blushing. "I know it's strange," she says. "But I've always had that desire. It was hard for me to accept it myself, but there it is."
"Really?" you say, incredulous, and fascinated. "I don't find it strange at all. What sort of things did you fantasize about?"
Wendy looks downward and smiles. "Well it's a little embarrassing," she admits.
You touch her shoulder, and say that you'd like to know.
"Well, okay," she says softly.
"I have this thing," she says, "about the way baby powder and diapers smell," she says. "It's always made me wet, thinking about rubbing my face against a man wearing a diaper, against his crotch," she says. Then she blushes hotly, and adds, "both before and after he's wet his diaper."
You shudder in your chair. "I know that feeling," you say softly.
"And I like to imagine men sucking on my big tits," she says looking downward, but not meeting your eyes.
"That sounds like heaven, Wendy, I would love to do that with you," you tell her.
"Well, that's good," she says. "Because I would want to do that with you." You say nothing. Your heart pounds in your chest.
"Do you want to go back to my place?" she asks you.
"Yes," you say.
She reaches her hand out, to take yours. She grips it tightly. The two of you leave the party.In the lobby, Wendy asks the doorman to hail a taxi for the two of you.
You stand in the cool night air of New York's air. It's a nice break from the stifling atmosphere of the art galleries and cool rooms.
The two of you wait for a minute. Soon, a yellow taxi slows down in front of the building.
The two of you bundle into the cab, and Wendy gives the driver her address. You notice how the seat covers are a tiny checkered pattern, and how the car smells just the tiniest bit like oranges. You lean your head against the window of the car, and watch as the streets of New York flow by. The cab drives you to the upper west side, and stops in front of a brownstone. The two of you get out of the cab. You walk up the steps to Wendy's house. You take a moment to appreciate that she lives in a brownstone. That has to mean serious money. Who owns a house in Manhattan? But you put the thought aside, and after Wendy unlocks the door, follow her in. The interior is neat and tidy, with cute little paintings and decorations placed throughout.
"Would you like a drink?" Wendy asks you. "I have some wine open."
"That sounds nice," you admit.
She goes into the kitchen to pour your drinks.
You take a glass of white wine from her, and the two of you sit on the couch, talking. Wendy tells you how she's been obsessed with diapering other people for a long time. You ask her if she's ever actually done it. She tells you, a bit sheepishly, that she has done it once.
"So, there's a guy I know from the gym," she explains.
"He's like a ripped, muscle-bound type. But one day, I saw he had a diaper in his bag, as he was checking out at the front desk."
"He had a diaper bag?"
"No, it was sticking out of his gym bag," she says. Blushing, she admits, she saw it because she was checking out his ass. "I pretended to stumble into him when he was at the desk, and I saw the diaper. It had little dinosaurs on it," she says. She says how she 'accidentally' kicked the bag, so the diaper fell out, and then picked it up and handed it to him, apologizing. She says how she thought about just running. She stood there for a minute, frozen.
"I was so nervous, my hands were shaking," she says. "I finally left the gym."
"What did you do?"
"Well the guy, his name was Brock, ran after me, and said it was no big deal. We went for coffee," she says. "It turns out he is really shy. He was just looking for a little support. He said that life is easier with a partner in crime. I offered to help him with it," she says.
"With diapering?" you ask.
She nods. "We went back to his place, and he had this huge closet, filled with adult diapers, all kinds. He even had a massage table, set up like a changing table," she says.
You laugh. "What did you do?" "I helped him into a diaper, gave him a foot rub. I felt pretty confident," she says. "We fell asleep like that." She smiles, blushing.
Then, she explained, when they woke up, she checked his diaper, and it was wet, and she changed him... and jerked him off too. "It was really something," she says.
She takes a sip of her wine.
"Would you like another drink?" she asks.
You shake your head. "I want to find out what happens next!" you say breathlessly. You realize your penis is very, very hard.
"Not much," Wendy says, dejected. "There was one big reason I wasn't going to work out for Brock," she says. "I don't have a penis." She sighs, putting her face in her hands. "Sharing a diaper fetish doesn't matter, if the other person is a gay man, and you're a woman," she says.
"Were you crushed?" you ask.
"Positively devastated," she says. "My sister actually found out about it, and told me I was a freak. I denied it, of course. But after a taste, I doubled down on my obsession with diapers. It got so bad that I almost flunked out of grad school because my grades suffered."
She sighs, staring into space.
"I remember there was one night I was studying for a cancer patient's treatment, and I just broke down in tears," she says. "Is that what you do? You're a doctor?"
Wendy nods, and explains she's an oncologist. "That's so cool," you say. She smiles, and nods. "After I cried that night, I decided it didn't matter what my sister thinks, and that I would wait for the right guy to come along." You nod.
"And diapers are part of that equation," you say. "Yep," she replies. "They're not the whole cake, but they're an important ingredient in the recipe, I guess," she says.
You laugh. "Wow, that was a really bad analogy," she admits. "What do you like about it?" you ask.
"You don't know?" she says.
You shake your head, and she leans over the table towards you.
"I mean, I can guess, Wendy, but it would be nice to hear it," you say.
She smiles. "I like... feeling like the man needs me, and has to obey me." She goes on. "I like how diapers look on a man, how they feel when I touch them, how they smell. I like the whole diaper changing process. Getting to touch a man's penis and his bottom, and clean him, and have my way with him. I like to be in charge."
"Is that why you wanted to be a doctor?" you ask. She shrugs. "Maybe, but it's different with patients," she says.
"So, you're dominant?" you ask.
She nods. "Very much so. I'm not a bitch, but I am rather strongly opinionated. I like to be the one who tells people what to do."
You smile at her. "Is there anything you want to tell me to do, right now?"
She smirks, saying she can think of several things. "First," she tells you, "I'm going to need you to take off your shoes, and your pants." You remove your pants, and she smiles. She scoots over on the couch, and pats her lap. "Now come put your head in my lap, little boy," she says. She isn't asking you, she's telling you.
You smile, and walk over to her. You put your head in her lap, and she strokes your hair softly. Wendy pulls off her shirt, and then takes off her bra. Cupping your head with one hand, she brings your face close to one of her breasts.
"Suckle my titty, baby," she says softly. "I knew you had a mommy fetish." You smile, and bring your mouth to her brown nipple, sucking it into your mouth. She smiles, and strokes your hair while you suckle from her.
Wendy reaches down, and slips her hand inside your underpants, wrapping them around your cock. As you nurse, she fondles and strokes your cock.
"Does that feel good, little boy?" she asks.
You moan softly in between sucking and licking her large breast. She smiles, and the next time you slide your mouth up and down her large areola, she moans softly herself.
The scent of her arousal wafts around you. You're almost overcome by the mixed sensations and smells. There's the scent of her skin, her breasts. There's the warmth of her breast against your cheek. There's the subtle, and growing ever stronger aroma of her pussy as she's clearly getting more and more wet. There's the feeling of her large, warm hand around your aching member. There's the sound of her soft moans as you suckle and lick.
She fondles and gropes and strokes, as you nurse. Until eventually, you come in her hand. Your body shakes and shudders, as a wave of sensation washes through you. You moan around her breast, which echoes out as a low chuckle.
"Think my little boy just came from breast sucking," Wendy says softly.
"Yes... mommy," you say. You feel like the word hangs in the air, charged with meaning and power.
"Such a good boy," Wendy say, stroking your cheek. "I think you need a nap, little one," she says. You're rather sleepy from all this. She helps you out of your shirt and pants so you're just in your underwear, and then she slides next to you on the couch.
The two of you fall asleep on the couch.
