“Ethan,” Mommy’s voice sliced through the nursery’s quiet, her polished nails tapping the edge of the crib. “Did you accidentally ruin your big-boy pants again?” Her eyebrow arched as she gestured to the damp spot on his khakis. The scent of lavender disinfectant clung to the air, mingling with the sharp undertone of his shame.
He shuffled, the rubber soles of his Mary Jane shoes squeaking against the tile. “I…I tried, Mommy. It just…happened.” His voice wavered, high and timid, as he clutched the lace hem of his ruffled apron—part of the “kitchen helper” outfit she’d dressed him in that morning. Mommy sighed, retrieving a thick, mint-green diaper adorned with cartoon ducklings from the oak dresser. “Such a messy little thing,” she tutted, snapping the plastic sheet open with a crisp crinkle. “Bend over the ottoman. Now.” Ethan’s cheeks flamed as he obeyed, the frills of his apron brushing his thighs. Behind him, the nursery door creaked open. His breath hitched. Mommy’s book club members lingered in the hallway, silk robes rustling as they peered in. Whispers slithered into the room: “…such a delicate waist…” one whispered, then another “…look at those trembling knees…”
“Focus, Ethan,” Mommy chided, her latex-gloved hands cold as they unbuttoned his trousers. The chilled air kissed his bare skin, raising goosebumps. He whimpered when the wet fabric peeled away, exposing him to the spectators’ muffled giggles. A lavender wipe dragged slowly between his cheeks, the scent cloying. “You’ll wear this until you learn,” she crooned, sprinkling powder that clouded around his hips like snow. “Unless you’d rather parade your accidents in front of the garden party tomorrow?” he would whine
“N-no, Mommy…”
“Good answer.” The diaper’s crinkle echoed as she snugged it around him, the tapes hissing under her precision. She patted his padded rear thwap, thwap before stepping back. “Up. Let’s find you something…fitting.” The dressing room mirror reflected Ethan’s humiliation in high definition: a lemon-yellow pinafore dress, white tights, and glossy red Mary Janes. Ribbons pinned his hair into twin tails, curls bouncing with every flinch. Mommy adjusted his lace collar, her breath warm on his neck. “Adorable,” she purred, spinning him toward the balcony. “Now wave to the neighbors, darling. Let them see Mommy’s perfect little helper.”
Outside, the garden party buzzed. Mrs. Henderson’s teacup paused mid-sip; Mr. Carrow’s cigar tumbled into the hydrangeas. Ethan’s hand lifted mechanically, his smile quivering as the crowd erupted in titters. The diaper bulged visibly under his tights.
“Storytime!” Mommy announced that evening, leading him to the parlor. Her book club sat in a semicircle, martinis in hand, as Ethan knelt on the velvet pouf. Mommy’s stilettos clicked beside his ear. “Chapter one: The Sissy and the Spanking Spoon,” she read, her voice syrup-sweet. When the tale turned to the protagonist’s first diaper change, Mommy’s hand drifted to his tights. Ethan stiffened as her fingers dipped beneath the waistband, tracing the diaper’s edge. The room’s gaze burned. “Aww, look. he’s blushing!” one woman cooed.
“Shh, let’s not distract him,” Mommy smirked, her nail scratching the plastic just enough to make him squirm. “Unless…my boy need distracting?”
Midnight. The nursery’s lava lamp cast oozing shadows as Mommy unbuckled the crib’s restraints. Ethan lay spread-eagle, the mint-green diaper tented obscenely. “Such a stubborn little thing,” she murmured, snapping the waistband. “All day in this soggy thing, and still you…” Her thumb pressed the bulge, and he yelped.The diaper fell away. Her scarlet-painted lips hovered inches from his throbbing cock. “Beg.”
“P-please, Mommy, I’ll be good—ah!” Her tongue swirled the tip, schlick schlick, as her book club filed in silently, masks glinting. Hands pinned his hips. Mommy deep-throated him with a wet gulp, nails digging crescent moons into his thighs. “Come,” she ordered, voice vibrating his shaft. He came, so much that his vision whited out, her swallow loud in the hush. The women clapped politely as she wiped her chin. “Again,” someone demanded. Mommy smirked, reaching for the strap-on harness. “Round two, buttercup.” The diaper stayed off.
leather straps hissed like vipers as Mommy tightened the harness around her hips, the obsidian silicone glistening under the nursery’s dimmed chandelier. Ethan’s legs trembled, still slick with sweat, as two masked figures pinned his ankles wide. “S-shouldn’t I… earn this?” he stammered, the lie catching in his throat.
Mommy leaned down, her pearl necklace grazing his heaving chest. “Oh, you’ve earned it, sweetie,” she whispered, smearing her crimson lipstick across his collarbone. “Every whimper. Every drip.” Her hand smacked his inner thigh with a delicious sounding crack! before guiding the strap-on’s tip to his clenching entrance. “But don’t worry… Mommy lubed it extra.”
The stretch burned. Ethan’s back arched off the crib mattress, a guttural “Nngh-!” tearing loose as she bottomed out him out in one brutal thrust. The crowd leaned closer, masks tilting, owl, fox, moth. as Mommy set a merciless rhythm. Schlap-schlap-schlap. The sound of silicone slamming flesh mingled with their murmurs: “Look at his toes curl…” “…wetter than his diapers…”
“Tsk-tsk.” Mommy gripped his jaw, forcing eye contact as the strap-on hit that tender spot. “You’re dripping on my guests’ rug.” Her thumb swiped the pre-cum leaking across his belly, pressing it past his lips. “Clean up your mess.”
He sucked obediently, salt and shame thick on his tongue, as the woman in the owl mask straddled his face. “Show us how grateful you are,” Mommy commanded, her thrusts stuttering as Ethan’s tongue faltered. The owl woman’s thighs clamped his ears, her moans drowning his gagging.
When the strap-on’s vibration switched on bzzzt Ethan shattered. His scream muffled against dripping flesh, back bowing as release ripped through him. Mommy laughed, cruel and crystalline, riding his convulsions. “There’s my good boy,” she crooned, patting his tear-streaked cheek. “Now… who’s next?” The moth-masked guest stepped forward, unzipping her purse. Silver clamps glinted.