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Untitled Smut [Diaper Dimension, NSFW]

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    Untitled Smut [Diaper Dimension, NSFW]

    I've been wracking my brain over a story that I wanted to sell, but I kept pulling it in too many different directions. As a consequence, I decided to do something a bit more lightheartedas you can see, I didn't even bother to slap a title on it, which I really ought to be ashamed of, except titles imply commitment and make things more serious, and serious projects tend to stay unfinished. It's not out of any disrespect to the forum that I do this. I'm actually quite excited to share some of my work with living, breathing humans.

    Due to my tendency toward compulsive revision, even this little piece took much longer than expected. At the moment, it's just a smutty scene about a naughty boy who was captured by a bunch of amazons for being stupid and is now about to get his diaper changed against his will. There is the ghost of a story here, and I've done my best to make the characters seem distinct and lifelike, but I wasn't sure whether or not I'd ever expand on this, so it was a little touch and go. Still, there is some extent to which I think complex backstories sometimes serve as a stand-in for good characterization, so while I may joke about how everyone's one-dimensional, there is a genuine effort on my part to bring them out of the clay.

    I set it in the diaper dimension because it's silly and nightmarish, and it made the scene easier in some respects (the open setting stopped me from developing a sense of guarded personal ownership) and more difficult in others (the viewpoint character is a little, so I wanted to constantly emphasize the dizzying size and scope of the world around him.) Even with something as deliberately lighthearted as this, I kept wanting to clean it up and refine it. Mustering the energy to finish it in light of how excited I was about my last story wasn't an easy task either.

    A quick heads up: this is a one-off fetishistic fantasy about being abducted, humiliated and infantilized by beautiful giants who treat your sexual desires as fundamentally no different from your need for hygiene and sustenance. If you didn't sign up for a scene in which the submissive party is forced to climax against his will, you should skip this piece.

    I was a bit lewd about this, so much so that I don't know whether this piece is suitable for the forum. I've seen stories written with very similar scenes, but they were posted by people who were writing stories, and who've amassed a lot more goodwill than I have. I'm fairly accommodating, so I'm hoping that if the story is too edgy, I can take it down and buy enough goodwill to learn how I can revise it. If you like what you see, I'm always looking for supportive beta-readers.

    Anyway, happy holidays, everyone! Let me know what you think. I'm particularly interested in criticisms of my writing style, grammar, prose, that kind of thing. Suggestions are welcome too.




    Julian struggled against the gaggle of giantesses as they whisked him off, whooping and giggling like college girls. They had him trapped in the plushy pink gingham seat of an outsized baby stroller, leaned back and trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

    Kara ran at the head of the pack, the streams of her glossy pink hair flitting in the summer breeze. He caught occasional glimpses of her from behind the cluster of her girlfriends. But it was Gwen behind the handlebars, and as she steered him under the bushy branches of soaring maple trees, wheeled him around sprawling planter troughs, and barreled down hard-packed garden paths at breakneck speed, he worried that she still held a grudge.

    His indignant shrieking would have been insensible even without the bulbous nipple of a pacifier lodged in his mouth, fastened snug by nylon straps. But he screamed anyway, slapping the soles of his socks against the plastic footrest with all his meager strength. It made no difference. The girls were having far too much fun to care about his protests, sensible or otherwise. They drove him mercilessly onward, closing in on the colossal white wooden cabin awaiting him up the hill.

    The fluttering in his belly wasn’t so bad. Sure it was a little scary, especially with Gwen at the helm, but he was strapped in tight. The purpose of their trip, however—the warm, squishy cotton folds sealed against his crotch by crinkly plastic briefs—was every bit as awful as he’d anticipated, not least of all in light of what they planned to do. This is it, he thought, slumping back into the cushions. They’re never going to let me go, now. How could I have been so stupid?

    Ever since he’d arrived at this otherworldly paradise, Julian had been gripped by a kind of erotic curiosity. The native women were fit, feminine and keenly human in every respect but their dizzying size. Kara’s willowy figure wouldn’t have been out of place on Earth, and her candy pink hair was clearly a dye job. Her snug lemon halter top could almost have been picked right off the shelves of a department store back home, and the cheeky shorts rippling and banding against the tight, round curves of her ass certainly seemed womanly enough. Was it really so wrong to wonder what she looked like underneath it all?

    The white clapboard wood cabin loomed closer now, standing atop a foundation of chalky pink ledgestone. Powder blue metal roofing gleamed atop the cabin’s steep gables, and the hints of ivory and pink trim along the window frames and porch columns cast an aura of deceptive calm. Julian was a snuffling mess as they crested the hill. Their climb was slowing, and his thrashing was becoming audible over the steady rumbling of the stroller wheels, especially once the giantesses’ hooting and giggling had died down.

    A few of the ladies fawned over him as they pushed his carriage up the ramp, sometimes snaking an arm out from behind the top of his stroller to tickle his legs in between gushy crooning noises. But he couldn’t get a good look at them.
    Something heavy hefted up off the basket behind his seat, and a moment later, Gwen shot ahead of Kara and the others, toting a fur-trimmed denim bag on her hip. Gwendolyn’s golden blonde tousles curtained down her purple plaid blouse, her pleated white mini-skirt swishing about her sporty legs and full, shapely bottom. As they reached the verandah, he saw large swatches of white cotton dangling from clotheslines between the porch columns, and another glance at Gwen’s tote bag let him register the big plastic baby bottle bulging out from the side pocket. Kara beamed at him as she held the door.

    Tears welled in his wide, pleading eyes, and he tried to beg, but the pacifier turned it all into a whimpering mess. The cabin engulfed him, flooding his nostrils with the cloying stench of soapy-sweet detergent. The steady percussion of washers and dryers drowned him out before he could catch his captors’ attention.

    A few of the ladies beelined for an eggshell-white wooden table, nearly as high and wide as a bedroom door was tall, with a solid bed cushion puffing out from a nest of handrails along the tabletop. His captors loomed over it as if it were no bigger than an ordinary dresser. Under the surface of the table, shelving units housed thick folds of fine fabric in prim stacks, many spotted with pastel prints. Beside them, he saw pink plastic bottles of lotion, tubes of diaper cream, brightly capped bottles of powder and baby oil. He saw little wicker trays and big plastic packages and modest plastic boxes.

    Gwen hefted the diaper bag atop a nearby couch on her way to the changing table.

    No, no, no! This can’t be happening!

    “What’s the matter, poppet?” Kara knelt down on a large rug and stooped to reach him, teasing him in a playful, lilting tone. “Is it time for the big, mean girls to change your sopping wet nappies?”

    Despite her overwhelming height, Kara was slender, maybe even short for an amazon, with plump breasts and sleek, well-curved hips. Her huge hazel-green eyes glinted with amusement, and as she dipped forward, a few of her glossy pink curtain bangs trailed out from behind the cascade, matching the long plates of her nails. He tried to slink away from her fingers as she pranced them up his sides, but there was nowhere to go.

    Julian fervently shook his head, but his whole body betrayed him. Her touch sent fluttery tingles surging through his belly, racing up his spine. He squealed with laughter despite himself, kicking his heels against the footrest. Kara laughed as she tickled him, but kept at it, relentless. His pacifier muffled his protests. He couldn’t make her stop.

    “Oh, but it is!” Kara went on, prancing the pink plates of her nails up along his ribs. “That’s why you’re being such a little crankypants, isn’t it?” Her tinkling laughter rang out over his shrieking, her long nails skittering up his flanks, fingers questing for his underarms. “Who’s Mummy’s little crankypants? Is that you, Jules? Is that what you are?”

    “Uh-oh. Looks like someone needs a diaper change…” Davina hadn't been part of the initial pack. The swarthy young woman broke away from the washing machines and met them at the changing table. Her leggy stature made her half a head taller than most of her girlfriends, but in a world of giants, that was more than enough to make Julian shrink away. “How bad is it?”

    Kara shrugged and slid her fingers out from under his arms, the better to unbuckle him from the stroller. “It could be worse, I suppose. Why don’t you come have a look?”

    Davina smirked and crouched down beside Kara. A few stray locks of her silky black hair dangled just above his brow as she stooped closer, her tie-dye top pronouncing the modest swell of her bust as her hand slipped between his legs. Julian wriggled and squawked with protest as her long fingers groped his crotch. “Oh my goodness,” she cried, absently joggling the heavy cotton under his crinkly plastic pants. “He’s soaked, you guys…”

    “What’s he complaining about?” Gwen peeled back the hot pink hood of the stroller, giving him a start. “Don’t tell me he’s getting shy all of a sudden.”

    “Hm. Awfully keen on his own privacy, isn’t he?” Kara tried to bite back a chuckle and failed, causing a round of playful laughter to bubble up around them. She brushed away the straps of his belt and took hold of him, her dainty hands engulfing his sides. “Alright,” she said, hefting him bodily from his seat. “Up you go, little scoundrel…”

    Julian wasn’t terribly overweight, but he was doughy enough that an ordinary person could never have hoisted him up so easily. Kara heaved him up high enough to see the top of her head, his legs dangling over the baby carriage. It was terrifying to watch the ground lurch away, to feel himself go soaring upward as Kara stood upright, clutching him where he was ticklish. But she kept a firm grip, smiling as she sat him atop the dense cushions of the changing table. His padded butt squished against his skin as he sank into the edge of a smooth, pink-and-mint paisley blanket draped over baby pink fitted sheets.

    Kara scooted him back until his legs weren’t hanging over the ledge, then handed him off to Davina, who’s long fingers wrapped around his shoulders. Behind him, he felt Davina’s wide-bowed lips puckering against the line of his neck, planting kisses that made him jerk against his bonds even as he squeaked with surprise, shocks of her silky black hair tickling his face. He watched Kara through blurry eyes, still squirming about as she scooped up the crooks of his knees and helped swivel him around, lining him up on the bedding. Women closed in all around him, Gwen at his feet, Davina and Kara on opposite ends.

    Hands shuffled up to cradle his head, to hold his together, to ushered him onto his back and lay his head atop a plump down pillow. Behind him, above him, all around him, a sea of unfamiliar faces, mostly young women.
    Julian tried to dig his heels in, but his socks found no purchase on the changing pad. “Mno, no, no!” he cried, mouthing the words around his pacifier and kicking his feet as best he could. “Ftop it!”

    “There we are, girls.” Kara still held his legs, but let him scuff his socks to his heart’s content. “Now, hold him still…”

    Davina laid a warm hand on his chest, trapping him on his back. With her free hand, she caught him by the cheek and gave it a little wiggle. “Getting a little excited, huh?”

    The affectionate teasing compounded his embarrassment. It was too much. His snuffling gave way to a warbling cry, followed by shuddering, heaving sobs. Tears came dribbling down his cheeks, blurring his vision as he fought and squirmed against the stretchy white hosiery and silky pink stockings that bound him, wrists to his chests, his arms hugging his sides. But Davina’s knots had been too clever.

    Gwen caught both of his legs by the calves. She held them against the cushions at shoulder width, his knees comfortably bent. “Here. I got him.”

    Davina kept one hand lit on his chest and drew back. “Melanie? Hand me a burpcloth?”

    “Here you go, babe.” A fox-faced redhead reached under the table, then brought up a heavy wicker basket, which she held suspended over his head.

    “Thanks, hon.” Davina picked a pastel print towel from the basket and mopped his face with soft, fuzzy flannel, dabbing at his eyes and wiping his dribbling nose. “Shh, shh, shh. Relax, baby. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

    Kara plucked loose the snaps of his plastic pants, then nodded at Gwen. “Ready?”

    “I love how squirmy he is.” Gwen hoisted his knees up over his belly, rolling his padded butt up for all to see. Despite his attempts to kick free, the blonde woman kept him easily in hand, laughing at his futile attempts to kick free. “Imagine being that small and honestly thinking you could overpower us?”

    “That’s male privilege for you,” the redhead put in, to murmurs of agreement.

    “Lemme gho!” he wailed, jerking against Gwen’s grip and peddling his feet.

    Someone must have handed Kara a pair of gloves, because she was sleeving some pink latex over her fingers when he looked up at her again. Once the gloves snapped tight around both hands, she plucked off the rest of his plastic pants. “You know what, Gwen?” Kara asked, picking the snaps loose from his plastic pants and idly stroking his thigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were getting attached. What happened to turning him in?”

    “Come on, Gwen,” Davina remarked. “You know you want to keep him.”

    He sagged on the table, still sniveling as his plastic pants came crinkling open, exposing the thick folded swath of wet cotton clinging to his clammy privates and wrapped around his hips, a few safety pins clamping it in place.

    Gwen huffed, blowing a few stray tousles of blonde out of her baby blue eyes. “Fine. I guess he can stay. But I am not changing his shitty Pampers.”

    Kara’s pouty pink lips quirked into a smile. “It’s a deal, then.”

    His erection was pitching a little tent in the piss-soaked cotton, its tepid warmth fleeing into the air-conditioned cabin. Sunlight trickled in from the windows behind Davina and Melanie, silhouetting a handful of the girls who crowded behind them. Just enough of it leaked through to show off the colorful cartoon bears splashed across the droopy white fabric. His own urine fumed in his nostrils, free of its plastic prison.

    Another pair of hands worked his diaper pins loose while he whined and whimpered. The girls ignored him, and before long the redhead was holding out another little wooden tray for them. The diaper pins clinked into it one by one.

    When the tray was gone, Kara’s gloved hands lit between his legs. Gwen had to hold his pudgy thighs to keep him from squeezing his thighs shut while Kara lifted the sloppy cotton up from around his crotch, exposing his clammy skin to the cold air. His stiff cock bobbed out to greet them as pink-gloved fingers pulled open his diaper and dropped it sagging onto the paisley mat. Gwen’s button nose scrunched in distaste.

    Then the stench of his own urine hit him again, and he went numb from the crippling shame of it all. Tears leaked out of him again, but this time his weeping was soft and quiet, punctuated by frantic sniffling and hitched breaths.

    “Whew-wee!” Davina teased him in her baby voice and dabbed the burpcloth over his face, one hand holding him down as she went. It was totally unnecessary, as Gwen was already levering him by the ankles. “Someone’s a widdle stinkers!”

    Gwen got her hands under the crooks of his knees and hoisted his legs up over his belly, keeping his pudgy thighs at a comfortable width. She crossed his feet up over his tummy and collected his ankles in one hand, using the other to fan away the fumes. Drafts of cool air whooshed up between his legs, but she ignored his squealing. “Where are those wipes?”

    When she was done mopping up, Davina hitched up his silky white sailor’s blouse over a few of his bonds, then spread the tear-spotted flannel over his belly, lining it along his waist. His turgid cock stuck out at an angle, pointing up over his abdomen.

    “Here we are.” Kara brought her hand up from under the table and held out an off-white box with glassy purple latches.

    “Thanks.” Gwen smiled at Kara, folding up the edge of his soiled diaper to make room for the plastic box. She popped the lid, then plucked out a damp swatch of cloth with hot pink trim. One hand still grasping his ankles, she brought the wipe up between his legs, then blinked, fighting back laughter. “Oh my god. Look at his little baby boner!”

    “I know, right!” one of the girls chimed in.

    Another girl, tittering behind her hand. “Gross!”

    Behind him, cried out in protest. “Aww, you guys are so mean!”

    Julian caught a whiff of silky vanilla and synthetic lavender, then felt the cold swipe of fluffy wet fabric across one of his chubby ass cheeks. He fussed and kicked to no avail as Gwen wiped the other side of his bottom, then broke into a squeal as she ran the wipe up and under his scrotum. She chuckled to herself, gently sweeping the wet wipe between his ass cheeks, then broke into bubbly laughter as he shrieked and bounced on the table. “What’s wrong, huh?” she asked, taunting him. “Aww, was that supposed to be private?”

    At this rate, he’d get a cramp before he managed to wrench his ankles from her hand. He sagged, sobbing as Gwen worked her way up, the down along his ass crack. His erection pulsed, and when he last looked, his scrotum seemed a little smaller than it ought to be, as if his testes had bunched up close to the shaft.

    Kara picked out a purple-trimmed wet wipe and reached around. “May I?”

    Gwen dropped the soiled wet wipe atop his wet diaper. “Go for it.”

    “Just keep hold of his legs for me, love.” Kara snaked her hand around his pudgy thigh, draped the fluffy wet cloth over his cock and brushed tenderly along the length. “What do we have here, hm? Is that your wee-wee?”

    He let out a high-pitched, warbling cry and worked his feet against Gwen’s grasp as Kara cleaned him. She cradled his cock in one hand and, swept the fresh wipe over the pouch of his pubic region with the other. Her dainty hand brushed the fluffy wet fabric along his scrotum with a mother’s touch and slipped under every little fold of skin, all while he tried in vain to wobble his legs shut.

    Just when he thought it might work, Gwen uncrossed his ankles and slid her hands up under his thighs. She kept his legs open for Kara, but dandled his calves about, giggling as she went. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?”

    “I think he’s trying to wear you out,” said Kara, swabbing around his ass cheeks.

    Davina laughed at his antics and tickled him under the chin. “Aww, poor widdle baby…it’s just so hard, isn’t it?”

    “Really, Davina! You’re terrible.” Kara ran the wipe along the creases of his thighs, then gave him a quick once-over, working the soft, damp swatch over his shaft, scrotum and buttocks until she was satisfied. Afterwards, she dumped the wipe atop his dirty diaper.

    “I meant his life.” Davina tugged the soggy cloth out from under his ass and bundled it up, then tossed it somewhere under the shelves below. She stooped over him again, her lips quirking into a grin as she reached underneath the tabletop. When he could see her hand again, she was brandishing a well-folded swath of lavish white cotton printed with cartoon doodles in pastel pink, yellow and blue.

    Kara chuckled and picked out one last wet wipe, which she used to dab at his bottom, then to scrub the changing mat between Gwen and his chubby ass cheeks. “Uh-huh. Of course you did.”

    “Sheesh,” Davina said huffily, a sly grin pronouncing her high cheekbones. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Kara.”

    “Yeah, Kara,” Gwen put in, her voice thick with sarcasm. She guided his knees in and crossed his ankles, the better to lift his bottom. “You’re supposed to be setting an example or something.”

    “For who?” Kara chuckled. “God help them…”

    Above, he saw Davina flip out the thick-folded cloth diaper—it almost looked like a diaper cover without buttons, but as it came open in her hand, and he caught a glimpse of another pastel cloth folded tucked into a little pad along the inside—then felt the rich fabric as she slotted it under his bottom, fussing with the edges at his hips. Davina’s buoyant breasts jiggled about under her tie-dye top as she stooped. He stared, mesmerized, then gasped as her hand snuck up over his crotch, lapping the thick, velvety cotton up over his erection and blanketing it over his crotch.

    “There we go.” Davina pranced her fingers up the thick folds of indulgent cloth, right where she’d draped the diaper along his shaft. “Who’s got a clean little bottom?” Her nude, bow-shaped lips parted for a wide, beaming smile. Despite her lilting tone, the way she fondled him was perilously arousing, though it didn’t stop him from writhing about at her touch.

    “You forgot the best part,” Gwen put in, relaxing his legs on the table.

    “Not to worry.” Kara planted something heavy atop the changing table. “Can’t have our little scoundrel getting a rash, can we?”

    Sniffling, he lolled his head over at Kara just in time to find her pumping a plastic bottle of baby lotion into her cupped hand. Milky pink cream came squelching out of the bottle, though her matching gloves made it difficult to see how much she was using, especially after she began to rub them together. The fragrance was rich and powdery, with a candy-sweet bouquet that permeated around the room like wet air on a dewy spring morning.

    He scrunched his nose and shook his head, fussing in Gwen’s grip with renewed vigor. “Mmnotta baby!”

    Davina lifted the clean folds of velvety cotton from between his legs, unfurling his diaper and exposing his genitals to the room once more. Most of the wetness from the aromatic baby wipes seemed to have dried.

    Kara beamed down at him, her wide grin carving faint dimples into her cheeks as she smeared her cold, creamy lotion along his pubic region, then worked her way up his shaft. Her fingers glided up his skin, heightening his pleasure in increments with every stroke. “Oh what’s wrong, poppet? Don’t you want Mummy to make you all fresh and clean?”

    Gwen hoisted his legs up again, rolling up his bottom. Kara used one hand to lavish him with the attention of her fingers, slathering his cock with silky-sweet lotion even as she stooped to reach around his leg with the other. Another dollop of cool cream smeared his backside and spread into a moist coat under Kara’s smooth, circular strokes. Just when he was going slack again, her hand sailed up between his thighs, and her gloved fingers caressed his scrotum, coating them in a film of pink lotion.

    Julian gnashed his teeth into the nipple of his gag, moaning and jostling while they giggled over him. His feet pedaled uselessly in the air, mostly to Gwen’s amusement.

    “See there?” Kara asked, rubbing the silky cream into every inch of his genitals. “He can squirm and fuss all he likes, but that face tells us a different story, doesn’t it?”

    A few of the other girls had crowded them, and were now tittering and snickering at the way his head lolled and his face prickled with embarrassment. His cheeks must have been bright red.

    Kara let go of his balls and held her hand out under his legs, her other hand idly toying with his cock. “Baby oil?”

    “Baby oil,” Davina called back, squirting a pink-scrolled bottle of clear oil into Kara’s open hand. Heady hints of coconut and pleasant, blossomy notes blended with the baby lotion until his whole world smelled like a fresh nursery, only cleaner.

    Kara let the clear, fragrant oil pool in her cupped hand, then slopped her palm along his upraised buttocks while Davina drizzled out a little extra along his crotch. Long, feathery pink locks fluttered out over the bust of her bright yellow top, her plump round breasts shuffling under the scooping neckline as she swashed her slippery hand all along his backslide. Her hand glided up between his pudgy thighs, gently swished around his sack, then slicked up his shaft, chasing her fingers off his sensitive glans and crossing her hands to stroke him over and over, lubing him into an erotic frenzy.

    Gwen relaxed his legs out onto the table, chortling as she helped him work his heels against the smooth paisley blanket under his hips. “Careful, hon. Keep that up much longer and we’ll have another mess on our hands.”

    “Not to worry, love. That’s why I’ve got gloves, after all.” Kara’s latex fingers slicked up his erection, hand over hand in a daisy chain, occasionally pausing to rim the head of his stiff, swollen cock and fondle his sack for good measure. “Littles are quite like babies in many respects,” she explained, speaking up so the other girls could hear. “But they’re hardly identical. You can’t get a little worked up like and pretend it’s not happening—well, you can, I suppose. But it’s cruel. They get congested down there, and then it’s like dealing with a colicky infant.”

    Melanie, the slender-faced redhead, peered around Davina’s shoulder, watching Kara work. “And you do this once a day?”

    Julian didn’t want to come—not here, certainly not like this!—but his whole body pulsed with pleasure at Kara’s steady stroking. Carnal pleasure tingled through his groin from root to stem, radiating up from deep behind his testes, making him more sensitive to the mounting pleasure with every slick and slide of Kara’s slippery fingers.

    “Mno, no, pweave!” he begged, mumbling around the nipple of his gag. “Mno more! Ftaa—aah—ftahhppit!”

    “Shh, shh, shh.” Davina idly stroked him under the chin, then slid the flannel down his tummy, covering his pubic region. She lifted the ends closer to his chest, doubling up the fabric to form a roomy pocket over his erection. "Almost done."

    Kara cradled him in her fingers, swiveling her oil slick thumb up the belly of his engorged cock, fiddling along the glans. Her other hand tented around his scrotum, fingers capering about, fondling him. “More or less, I suppose. It really depends on how excitable he is.”

    The electric, tingling pleasure became a buzz, then mounted into a coursing wave of erotic delight, sweeping up from deep inside his puckered cheeks and saturating every nerve in his sensitive glans. As it reached a crescendo, the pleasure blossomed into an ecstasy that clenched his ass cheeks with a shudder of relief. Runny seed went squirting out of him with the intensity of champagne cork. After the buildup, it was almost disappointing.

    He arched his back, toes curling as the coursing pleasure subsided into steady, buzzing pleasure. Semen spurted out of him, and the steady pulsing seemed to keep the ecstasy from fleeing entirely. But Kara’s slick fingers hugged his engorged cock when she should have been about to let go, and the ticklish intensity of it threatened to become torturous. Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, his nerves seemed to top out. The pad of her thumb set the latex swiveling and sliding against the most sensitive parts of him, and the electric pleasure gave way to a steady, sparkling buzz.

    She was going to make him come again.

    Julian gasped, then let out a warbling cry as a second orgasm began to blossom. It didn’t make any sense, he was still shuddering out the last one. But then the ecstasy came welling up, promising more than he could bear. He dug his heels in as best he could, but they scuffed right off the paisley mat. Gwen kept them pedaling, giggling as if it were all just a game. Ecstasy surged up and shot out of him like cannonfire, so fierce that it seemed as though he could feel his prostate nuzzling up against the base of his shaft.

    There was nothing to do but writhe on the table, spluttering out round after round of wet, gummy seed until he could feel it soaking the pocket of flannel. Ladies crowded around, cooing as their fingers brushed along his scalp, stroked his legs and belly while he bucked and clenched and finally sagged on the cool linens fitted along his dense bedding, feeling for all the world like a juiced lemon.

    A little while later, someone dabbed a wet, fluffy cloth over his flaccid cock. He let out a shrill cry, then steadied as the ladies cleaned him with a delicate touch. The flannel burpcloth was so thoroughly drenched that whoever was wiping him had to spend most of her efforts sweeping the rich, damp terrycloth over his belly.

    Sweet, silky vanilla and synthetic lavender drifted up over the baby oil, and he let out another round of soft, weeping sobs, but he didn’t try to shut his legs when the velvety-soft cotton enveloped his crotch, enfolding the head of his shriveled penis as it lay flat under his belly. Davina smirked as she shuffled the fabric against him, holding it up around his hips.

    Kara smoothed his blouse out over his tummy, then wrapped one of the makeshift wings his diaper over his hip, her fingers lodged between the folds. “See where my hands are?” she asked, tightening the folds a bit. “We want to make sure he has about two fingers of breathing room. Best to brace against the cloth as well, that way you don’t stick him by mistake.”

    “Shouldn’t his penis be pointing down?” asked one of the girls.

    “It’s fine.” Davina’s long fingers fluttered up the folded swath of velvety-soft cotton, giving him a little wiggle through the fabric. “See how it folds up here? It’s like a little pocket.” Her fingers wrapped the other wing of the diaper up over his hip.

    He could feel the indulgent cotton snuggling up against his crotch, getting tense at the hips. Although his eyes were too blurry to see what was happening and his arms remained bound, the gentle clink and clatter of diaper pins made him whimper in fear. The girls shushed him as they fastened the diaper into place. He didn’t even know the ends had been pinned up until he felt their hands slip away, lighting on his chest and belly, the fingers catching his cheeks to mop his face with a clean burpcloth. Someone scooped up his legs to give his padded bottom a few pats and strokes, to the amusement of the crowd.

    When he could see again, Kara and Davina were picking loose the knots in his bindings, holding him down while plastic pants stretched and crinkled around his ankles. He lifted his head a little to find Gwen wrestling some powder-blue plastic briefs up his calves and under his knees, though when she hoisted his legs up again, Davina’s fingers tickled along his inner thigh. He let out a little piping squeal, and laughter bubbled up around the room.

    “Did that tickle?” Davina rolled up the edges of the cloth diaper along the places where the gussets should have been, her short round nails dancing along the creases of his pudgy thighs. She gave his cloth-swaddled bottom a few affectionate claps and strokes. “Poor baby…”

    They sat him up, the briefs still hitched between his knees, and his bonds went slack. The stockings and hosiery fell away, puddling around his lap. Kara unwrapped the last of them from around his wrists, gathered them up and passed them along. She must have plucked her gloves off while he lay crying.

    Davina slipped her hands up against his underarms and hefted him up to his feet, though her firm grip made it seem more that he was being held upright than allowed to stand. His knees buckled as he drank in the sight of the women looming over him, crowding the edges of the table. Melanie with her crimson hair and slender face, Gwen with her hazel eyes and fluttery lashes curtained in a cascade of pastel pink, a smirk on her pouty lips. At least half a dozen more: a lean girl with a ruddy complexion and a leafy black pixie cut, a round-faced girl with chestnut-brown hair drawn up in a thick ponytail, every last one of them a stranger, now familiar with the most intimate parts of him.

    Kara caught him with a chaste kiss smack on the shield of his pacifier. “See there, poppet? Easy as pie.”

    His eyes were saucer wide, his cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. He looked bashfully at the changing table, then jerked with a start as Kara took hold of his plastic pants and shimmied them up his thighs. They crinkled and rumpled as she worked them up around his hips and crotch, stretching and puffing out a bit over the bulky layers of his diaper. Any hope that he might shed them and run in the near future died as he saw Kara reaching for a little belted chain.

    Julian reached out to keep Kara from threading the chain into place, but stopped himself up short. She’d just tie him up again. The lock clicked shut.

    Kara hefted him up into her arms, sweeps of her pastel pink hair trailing out from behind her shoulders in long, streaming rivulets. He whimpered and clung to her lemon blouse, his head sinking into her plump, fleshy bosom. Her arms enveloped him, hugging him tight and holding him up by the seat of his pants. “That’s enough for today, girls,” she said, absently patting his back. “I think it’s time for his bottle.”

    Last edited by Hestia; 12-29-2019, 01:28:26 AM. Reason: Just being a perfectionist. I'll edit the title if I add new content.

    #2
    I do like the title. It's too well written for proper one handed storytelling though.

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      #3
      lol, I suppose that's fair, Anna. But you'd be surprised what you can accomplish if you just keep both hands on the keyboard until you run out of patience. Still, a lot of this is just smoke and mirrors. I see so many stories that don't really take advantage of clever verbs, or strong adjectives, or which skimp on the details. Me, I have a tendency to ladle them on thick, but it can be a huge pain in the ass when it comes time to kill my darlings, and it can sometimes work to conceal the fact that a piece is much shallower than it appears. Also, I suck at glossing over things, and the tendency to constantly nit pick at my work leads to little clips of repetition, which I suspect a few readers will catch.

      I think I'll let the flaws stand for now. Maybe I'll go back and edit them at the end of the week. Since you were the first to comment, Anna, I'll give you priority if you suggest a new title. If there's interest, I could probably write this with disposables instead of cloth and post it in a reply. Oddly enough, I was never a huge fan of cloth, but in this context it just seemed like the natural choice.

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