When Your Future Looks Destined

From the book:

The Mommy Grats: Boy Toy
Kindle NookPDF Ebook SmashwordsKobo

here is a first perspective of what it feels like when the helping hand becomes the ruling one.

Photo Copyright 2012 Penny Barber,
courtesy of PamperedPenny.com


When Your Future Looks Destined

(Warning: This ain’t no Daddy/BabyGirl Story.)

I am awakened by your fingertips on my chest and by you brushing the hair strands that have dangled down over my face.

“Hello, babyboy.  Did you sleep well?” you ask in such a soft tone it’s almost a whisper.

The look in your eyes and on your face tells me you are visiting a very dominant place in your mind.  There is an assuredness of your authority beaming across your cheeks.  And you look so beautiful in the soft, moonlit room.  I am taken in by your loveliness, the color in your skin and the warmth emitting from you as you place your breasts on my chest, only allowing your silk robe between us.

You say little, but stare into my eyes while stroking your fingertips through my hair.  Words aren’t necessary and would get in the way of the communication we are having.  My heart is pounding heavily by now because I know you are about to demonstrate your power over me.  But I don’t know if you’re going to be a mean Mommy, a humiliating Mommy, a loving Mommy, a sexual Mommy or an over-bearing Mommy.

I lay still and await your actions.  My world is no larger than the blue swirls of color in your eyes.  You are all which I can see, all which I can feel and all which I am.

Then you finally speak again.

“It’s getting easier for you to slip into this role, isn’t it?” you ask with a certainty to your voice which illicits my immediate response.

“Yes, Mommy,” I reply softly.

“Being kept in a diaper is starting to feel as natural as being alive, isn’t it,” you ask as your right hand rolls down my chest and stomach slowly, winding up on my diapered crotch, which you pat delicately.

My erection has grown quickly because of your words and touch, but all ready existed slightly, a typical thing that happens to a guy while he sleeps.  Your fingers trace the stiff bulge that is evident in the front of my diaper.  You smile slyly at my arousal.

“And it’s so unfortunate that you get worked up like this, especially since you aren’t ever allowed to touch yourself,” you say with a delicious satisfaction to your voice before glaring into my soul with a domineering gaze.  “Mommy owns you, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, Mommy,” I reply, feeling the submission overtaking my senses and making my tummy a fluttered mess.

You crawl up on top of me in no particular hurry before spreading your bent legs over my chest and arms, pinning me to the bed.  You pull back the edges of your silk robe to reveal your breasts and a sweet center between your legs.

“And Mommy has everything needed to make you a very, very good Baby, doesn’t she?” you ask rhetorically, but still wait for my timid response.

“Yes, Mommy,” I say while eyeing up your body.

“Hey, up here!” you say with sudden anger as you snap your fingers, drawing my attention back to your eyes quickly.

The look on your face is one of scorn which you are holding back, but I can tell you plan on letting it out at the right moment.

“Did you like what you saw?” you ask briskly as I nod honestly.  “Well then, perhaps you’d like to take a closer look.”

You grab the headboard with both hands and lift your body off my chest, planting your sweet center over my mouth as you force my head backwards.

“Lick Mommy … Now,” you command as you begin to slowly rock your hips.  “Faster.”

I obey your commands as usual without hesitation.  You ride your center up and down my face, making my tongue strokes lap up and down the entire length of your opening.  I can feel you getting swollen and taste you getting wetter.  By the rapid movement of your hips, I can tell your arousal is building, too.

“It’s okay that Mommy has to help you make her feel good.  Don’t feel bad that you can’t do it on your own.  You don’t know what to do because you’re such a little baby.  Mommy understands,” you say in a bouncy, breathy condescending tone as you smash my face into your wetness, directing my tongue to focus on a particular area as you slow your rocking down.

Then without warning, you release my head and slide your wetness down my chin, neck, chest and stomach.  Reaching behind you, you expertly unfasten my diaper tapes and flip the front of my diaper down, revealing my own aroused condition.

“You know what Mommy wants,” you say to me with a flushed look to your face as you grab at my cock to check its stiffness.  “I guess this will have to do.”

You slip the tip of my cock between the lips of your opening.  Once you have enveloped my head with your wetness, you squeeze it with the muscles of your center as tightly as possible and you force it inside you.  My entire length enters you quickly and you push down on me until our pelvic bones thump.

I sit up because of the jolt and you grab the back of my head, forcing my mouth onto the areola of your right breast.  You smash my face into you, making it hard for me to breathe.

“Suck, Baby,” you say, raising your eyes to the ceiling before closing them.  “Make Mommy feel good.”

I nurse off you while twitching from the forcefulness of the treatment you are giving my cock.  I occasionally let out a light whimper to which you smack the back of my head, telling me to hush up and concentrate on my purpose at the moment.

Without much more delay, you thrust me back down onto the bed as your orgasm hits and you moan out the pleasure you wanted to take from me.  You glare down at me with a look of exhilaration from the orgasm shooting through you.

Then, just as suddenly as you began, you dismount me and spin around, planting your wetness on my face and mouth as you begin stroking my penis.

“Lick Baby,” you command in a breathy tone.  “Keep Mommy’s orgasm going.”

You spit on the tip of my penis and spread it down my shaft, further adding to the wet, sloppy mess at my crotch.  Your teasing fingers roll from my tip to my shaft to the sensitive skin around my base to the testicles which you roll in your hand.

“Slow down, Baby,” you direct me.  “Concentrate on the hood.”

I slow my tongue down as you fold the diaper back up over my erection, teasing my tip with the inside of the diaper.  I twitch at the sensations you are forcing me to have.

“That’s a good boy,” you say, encouraging me.  “You can do it.  You know you wanna cum in your diaper like a little baby.  Show Mommy why you’re not a man anymore.”

I cum, gushing into the diaper.  You keep my cock covered with the diaper, but continue to stroke out my orgasm with a clasping grip and slow deliberate movements of your hand, up and down.

“That’s Mommy’s little diaper boy.  Yes,” you say with sweetness to your tone that makes me feel even less than what I am.  “It feels so good to cum in your diaper like a little baby boy. It feels so, so good, baby.”

You wipe your hand off on the inside of my diaper and fold the diaper back up into place, refastening the tapes at my hips.  You lay your head on my diapered crotch and relax yourself for a moment before you reach back behind my head, grab my hair and thrust my face into your wetness as you moan out one more orgasm.

For a few minutes, we lay still, in that position, as we recover.

Then you climb off me and make your way into the bathroom where I hear water running in the sink and then …

“Well hello,” you say as you walk out of the bathroom with your cell phone up to your ear and a washcloth in your other hand.  “Oh my, I’m doing very wonderfully … Yep … I just got a little.  Oh yes.  And when I say a little, that’s exactly what I mean.”

You sit next to me and wipe my mouth clean of your juice.

“Yes he is.  He’s lying on the bed right now, recovering too,” you say into the phone as you wipe your wetness trail from my neck, my chest and my stomach.  “Yep. He’s doing well.”

You snap your fingers at me and direct me to lie in the center of the bed with my head at the foot of the bed, facing back at you.  You sit next to me and light a cigarette.  You take in a drag and blow it out slowly while looking at me and smiling cheerfully.  You pick up the remote, turning the TV on.  Because of the way I am positioned, I can’t see the set.  I wouldn’t have been watching it anyway because all of my attention is directed to you as I try to figure out who you’re talking to on your cell phone.

Looking down at me, you give me a wink, knowing full well what I’m trying to figure out.  You have no intention of letting on to who it is yet.

“Well it’s most interesting that you should bring that up,” you say into the phone with a playful tone that makes me worry.   “As a matter of fact he is.  Right this very minute.”

You reach down and rub the front of my diaper, giving me a pat while grinning widely at me.  You run your fingers down my chest, trying to distract me, but to no avail.

“Well, when you last saw him, he was a strong, loving man who could handle my quirky mood swings,” you say as my eyes grow wide in horror and you plunge a bottle into my mouth to prevent me from speaking.  “But now, he’s just a wittle baby.  Oh yes.  He’s different.  Sometimes I look at him while he’s sleeping and I wonder how he ever fooled me. …… You want me to?  Yeah sure.  Hold on a minute.”

You stand up, remove the bottle from my mouth, replacing it with a pacifier and then take a picture with your cell phone before sitting down and texting the picture to the mystery person on the other end of the line.  You look at me and smile sweetly as you await the mystery person’s reaction.

Silence enters the room and then suddenly you begin giggling.

“Yeah. Can you believe it?  That’s actually him,” you say, trying to keep your composure.    “I know.  It fits him so perfectly, doesn’t it?”

You return to me, swapping the pacifier for the bottle once again and leaning in close to my face.  Your expression is very cheery and playful and you are studying my eyes.

“Well, I can’t tell, but I think he knows it,” you say.  “He’s trying to keep himself together right now.”

I can feel myself beginning to get teary-eyed.  Whoever you are talking to is now aware and I don’t know how to feel about that.

 “Would you like to?” you say with sudden enthusiasm.  “Well, yes.  I’m sure he would love to see you again.”

I shake my head no, vigorously, and your face lights up with the confirmation that I’m terrified at the proposition.

“Yep.  He’s excited all right.  Where do you want to meet at?” you ask.  “Perfect.  There’s a play area there for him and you and I will be able to sit and catch up. … Yep.  Let me get some shoes on him and we’ll be right there. … We’ll see ya soon, Sweetie.  Bye Bye.”

“Well, baby!  Guess where Mommy’s going to take you?” you ask me with delight in your voice as you swap the bottle out for my pacifier.  “McDonald’s!  Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

I give no reaction other than closing my eyes, knowing that I’m about to feel a whole new level of humiliation.  There’s no convincing you otherwise and I sit up as you put socks and sneakers on my feet, followed by a white t-shirt which barely covers anything it needs to.

You pick up the diaper bag, take my hand and head for the door.  You open the door and turn back to me.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” you say to me, giving me a hug.  “This trip will help you … in so many ways.  Now, go to the car.”

You pat my diapered bottom as I walk out the door.  It closes behind us and we’re on our way.

KindleNookPDF EbookSmashwordsKobo

Also check out: “When Your Past Catches Up With You”


 The Mommy Grats

Mommy Grats - Boy Toy 1 Mommy Grats - Boy Toy 2 Mommy Grats - Boy Toy 3 Mommy Grats - Boy Toy 4 Mommy Grats - Boy Toy 5
     Boy Toy          Boy Toy 2          Boy Toy 3         Boy Toy 4        Boy Toy 5

      Crush 1               Crush 2

Mommy Grats - Girl Power 1
  Girl Power     

      Creole 1              Creole 2             Creole 3

    Pathway 1         Pathway 2




2 responses to “When Your Future Looks Destined

  1. Pingback: When Your Past Catches Up With You | zorroabdaddy.com

  2. Pingback: The Mommy Grats: Boy Toy | zorroabdaddy.com

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.