paddedlittleparadise
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Learning to Let Go
🕑 Added 2021-04-23 23:01:00 +0000 UTC"Hold still now, honey. Mommy doesn't want to hurt you..."
Jeff fought the urge to clutch his tummy, settling instead for squeezing his eyes shut and suckling harder on his pacifier as he lay obediently across the bed. Had it only been last night when Emma, still flushed from their recent round of lovemaking, had teasingly suggested that the next day be a Little day for him? It was a long weekend, she'd purred amid his post-coital daze, and it had been so long since he'd gotten to be her little baby...
Well, things being what they were, he'd blushingly agreed. After all, what adult baby didn't love the prospect of his beloved mommy-wife devoting an entire day to making him happy?
The only hitch in what had begun like a perfect day came shortly after breakfast. "Sweetie-pie," Emma had cooed, turning from the sink and drying her hands briskly on her flowered – and decidedly cottage-core – apron. "Come here, baby. Mommy needs to talk to you..."
The upshot of the ensuing conversation being that, according to her, it was time for little Jeffie baby to learn to enjoy the messy side of being a Little.
"Aww, Emma," Jeff had started to protest, only be silenced by her firmly thrusting his favorite green pacifier between his lips. "Nope, no big boy talk!" she had scolded, shaking her head in mock astonishment. "It's Mommy you're talking to now, baby. And hush your whining – Mommy won't hurt you. She knows exactly what you need to learn, and that's all there is to it."
After which she'd taken him firmly by the hand and pulled him back to the bedroom, where he'd been mortified to find himself the reluctant recipient of not one, not two, but now three enemas. The first had been enormously revolting, and the squeamish Little had almost shed a few tears as he'd contemplated, with cramping belly, the horrifying possibility that Mommy might just put a diaper on him and order him, smirking, to make a stinky like a good little baby...
But no – to his unutterable relief, she'd merely smiled and motioned her naked Little toward the bathroom. "Now, then, best get that little booty onto the potty, honey! We don't want you to have an accident on the floor, you know!" Oh, he wasn't going to complain, he'd mused as the smelly water had spurted from his backside and into the toilet. But what was she actually getting at? How on earth could a series of enemas be in keeping with the whole baby aesthetic Mommy had been cultivating?
It was only after the third and final enema – now little more than clear water – had gushed noisily out into the toilet that Mommy began to tip her metaphorical hand. "Nice and squeaky clean," she observed with satisfaction as Jeff shakily slid off the toilet seat and flushed once more. "I bet you've never felt so clean in your life, huh, baby?" And then she was taking him by the hand and conducting him firmly back to the bed, where she pushed him firmly face-down on the blankets. "Best keep that booty where I can see it," she ordered sweetly – and Jeff, mute and mystified behind his pacifier, could only bury his face in the sheets and wonder.
The first cool touch of lubricated plastic against his tender booty hole felt no different from the others. Good lord, is she giving me a fourth? he wondered dismally, sucking harder on the rubber nipple. But something was slipping in deeper than before... and then this steadily growing pressure and weight in his belly felt quite different from the heavy liquid rush of water before. What on earth...
"Good boy," Mommy was crooning, and he felt himself relaxing slightly despite his uncertainty and squeamishness. She was in charge. She'd never do anything to actually harm him... And then the thing was slipping out at last, only to be replaced by something quite different: something thick, and cool, and wet-feeling as it pressed up into his bottom...
"Relaaaxxx," Mommy breathed, and Jeff sighed shakily as he felt something long and slippery gliding firmly up into his ass. "Good, good," she whispered, and he felt her hand patting his bare ass in approval. "Such a good little baby for me..." Jeff, awash in the strange sensations of both an unusually full bottom and a recently deep-cleaned lower intestine, could only whimper softly as she tugged at him, urging him to flip over onto his back. "Don't worry, honey," Mommy beamed down as his reddened and anxious face turned to face hers. "It's finally time for your favorite part in all the world!"
And with that, she slid the diaper beneath him and began dusting him with the heavenly scent of baby powder.
"Now, Jeffie, I know you probably want to know what Mommy did to you just now," she smiled as she pulled her freshly-padded Little upright on the bed. "But the thing is, you don't need to know. You wouldn't understand anyway, you little baby!" She giggled softly and tweaked Jeff's nose before slipping his favorite baby shirt – of the softest cotton, with pastel dinosaurs all over it – down over his head. "So why don't you go play now? And just let Mommy know if anything goes wrong..."
If anything goes wrong... The words echoed in Jeff's brain as he knelt now on the living room carpet, his favorite Littlespace cars and trucks before him. Here he was, a good little boy, plunked down on the floor in nothing but his most adorable shirt and a thick, fresh diaper, playing obediently for Mommy. All should have been well. And yet... something wasn't quite right. For deep inside him, he could feel an unnatural fullness and churning... And even in his well-used bumhole, he could already feel something thick and weighty, something that was going to need to come out eventually...
Oh, he ignored it as best he could. Mommy had said to play, and play he would for as long as possible. But in the end, it was impossible. And so, as the pressure in his belly mounted inexorably, and as the first little toots of gas were followed by others, he found himself scrambling anxiously to his stocking-clad feet and crinkling softly – as any good toddler might – to find Mommy.
"What is it, honey?" Mommy asked sweetly, and Jeff could feel himself blushing as he formed his pacifier-muffled plea. "Uh, I hafta- Mowwy, I godda-" "Use your words, baby," she chided with a giggle. "What's wrong?" "My- my bewwy-" he managed at last, eyes downcast in embarrassment. "Ah, of course!" Mommy exclaimed – and, turning to the fridge, produced a duo of liquid-filled bottles. "I bet that belly of yours is super empty, huh? Let's get my sweet baby boy all fed up!"
"Bud Mowwy-" Jeff's protests went unheard as his Mommy pulled him merrily into the living room and settled on the couch. "Now, up in my lap," she ordered – and the flushing, cramping Little had no choice but to comply with a quiet whimper. "Now, then, let's get you all fed," she murmured sweetly – and in a flash Jeff found his pacifier had been replaced with the first of the two bottles.
Oh, he wanted to tell her. He needed to tell his Mommy what he really needed, what the growing pressure and cramps in his belly were about to make him do. But the nipple was in his mouth, and she was humming sweetly and smiling down at him with that knowing expression... And then he realized: she already knew better than he what was about to happen. She knows. She wants me to- to- to make an oopsie in my pants...
Wetting was no problem for him, of course. He'd loved the weight and heavy squish of a soggy diaper ever since he could remember. But it was the messy ones – the idea of voluntarily filling his pants with his own dirty, smelly, stomach-churning mess – that had kept him so opposed... even when Mommy had first brought up the idea. And so, he felt his heart flutter now in anxiety as his smiling Mommy began cooing tenderly about what lay in store for him.
"Honey, baby, it's okay. I know, I know. It's scary when you gotta make a mess, isn't it? Mommy knows..." She smoothed his hair gently, and he gulped afresh, eyes fixed anxiously on her face. "But honey, everyone makes messes. Every good little baby fills their diapers for their Mommies. And you know what? Those sweet little babies couldn't even hold it if they tried, honey... and neither should you. You're my Little one, too. And you need to learn... to just... let go..."
Her voice was persuasive, but the growing urgency in Jeff's tummy was still enough to make him whimper and shake his head in fearful disgust. "Mommy needs you to learn that, baby," she soothed now, thrusting the nipple a bit deeper into his mouth and pulling him closer. "That's why she's taken care of everything, okay? I promise, baby: you're all clean. You're not going to be stinky. You're not going to be dirty. You're just going to relax, and make pushies for me with that nice clean bum of yours. And you're going to fill your diaper up so nice and full, just like the adorable little baby you are..."
Jeff was sweating now, teetering on the brink. There was such pressure- almost painful- but he couldn't give in... could he? But Mommy was speaking to him earnestly, her soft lips moving in such sweet syllables, and he felt his resolve melting. She- she said he would be okay... It would be all right...
And with a sudden grunt and a stiffening of his entire body, Jeff found himself giving up the fight. His eyes widened behind the bottle as he felt something slippery, firm and solid as real feces, slipping from his bum hole and rushing out into his thick diaper... meeting the resistance of the cottony material, then pressing further out, bending, mushing softly as it deformed... And behind that? He had no idea – but it began spurting out, faster and faster, warm and gooey and the texture of the stickiest diarrhea. And to top it all off, he then felt his bladder, as if of its own volition, loosen and begin flooding the front of his diaper with a second flood of warmth...
He found he was panting around the bottle nipple, perspiring as he felt his body so willingly doing what he'd always dreaded. He'd- he'd actually filled his diaper... Lain here in Mommy's arms and actually soiled himself! But as his panicked eyes turned up to meet hers in mute questioning and revulsion at what he'd just done, Mommy only smiled and bent down to plant a kiss on his sweaty cheek.
"Don't worry, baby," she whispered now – and he felt her other hand slipping softly back to cup the seat of his amply padded rear. "It's just a little recipe of my own invention. A banana, and some oatmeal and cocoa powder and glycerin..." She smirked gently and began pressing home, and Jeff shivered with mingled relief, disgust, and delight as he felt the warm mush spreading throughout his diaper. "No mess, no smell... just happy baby feelings..."
And with that, she tucked the bottle nipple deeper into her Little's mouth. "Now why don't we finish your lunch here so you can go play again, huh? Don't worry," she giggled, fondly stroking his hair once more. "Mommy won't dream of changing you for a nice long while. Long enough for you to see just how fun it is being Mommy's dirty little mush tush..."
To which her Little – relieved in more ways than one – obediently blinked up at her. And gulped once more at his bottle.
