You Get What You Need, Ch. 1 & 2

“Well I suppose you want to know what I brought you in to talk about today.”

“I suppose so.”

The room was just slightly too cold. It was always just to cold. Sure it had inviting couches, probably the best that Thomas had ever sat in. I mean with these couches there was never that slight period of adjustment, that shifting in your seat to find the right spot. All of it was the right spot, as inviting as a feather bed.

But it was too cold. Juuuusssst barely, you’d sit and be comfortable, feel comfortable from the top of your head to the tips of toes. And then five minutes later you’d shiver, and feel surprised as you realize that it, regardless of the warm tones, the slight earthy touches, the framed poem on the wall, was cold. And nothing, not anything, would ever change that.

“Well it’s not good news really,” the woman across from Thomas said, “or I guess you won’t think it is, at first. But growth always feels that way at first.”

This struck Thomas oddly, Dr. Goodrich was giving him the, “things are murky in this area and open to discussion and how does that make you feel” voice, but her body language, fuck even her eye contact, was telling a different story. Her manicured brows weren’t furrowed in confusion, which was always his first sign that he was going to half to start over, to explain again, from the beginning, taking his time to make his point, to convey his idea.

Not that Penelope was very slow or anything. She was actually kinda clever for the most part. It’s just that Thomas wasn’t slow at all. Quite the opposite actually. Too much so really, to his constant annoyance. He tried his best to be kind, to be patient. As much confidence as he had in his own abilities, he knew that someone out there was smarter. There had to be. And it would be best to be humble when he met them.

He often fantasized about that day actually, hoped for it. ‘It would be good,’ he thought, ‘to have something beyond my understanding explained to me by someone else, rather than the other way around.’

All of this flashed though his mind in less time than it takes most people to remember the name of their first pet. And he returned his attention to the room, without having missed a single beat.

“I suppose I agree,” Thomas said. Then he gets quiet, and waits.

He lets the silence fill up the too cold, hallmark card of a room. Penelope can say the first word. He’s not afraid of silence. He already spends most of his time by himself, so it does’t bother him.

Usually, this does the trick, but Penelope doesn’t shift in her seat like normal. She looks calm and composed, like a cat playing with a wounded bird, in absolutely no rush to finish its meal.

“Frankly,” her eyes flash when she says this, hot an angry for a second and anyone other than Thomas, he knew, wouldn’t have caught it, "This isn’t working. It hasn’t been working for a long time. You know that, and probably have known that for longer than I have. You might have even been laughing at me, waiting for me to catch up. You spent too much time lying about how difficult work is and you got your stories mixed up. So I called your mother.

“You can’t do that,” he said it deadpan. Utterly cold. Inside he was freaking the fuck out, but this was not the end of the world, he reminds himself, he can always get a new therapist.

"Yes I can. You signed the disclosure sheets 6 months in. I can contact your mother whenever, but because I idiotically trusted you for the last 4 years, I didn’t. But now I know you don’t have a job. At all. Apparently you’ve been doing nothing in your room for the last 8 months since you were fired. Which your mother didn’t mind because you told her I ordered some down time for you so you could “collect yourself”.

“I…” Fuck. Thomas’s voice froze in his throat. He had nothing. He was caught, by his therapist and his mother. ‘It’s not the end of the world. I’ll just have to get a job, as well as a new therapist. It would blow over if he gave it a few weeks.’

"This behavior, this has been the elephant in the room for a long time. When your parents sent you to me, 4 years ago, this is what were supposed to work through. Together Thomas, honey look at me, together. But it seems you have no interest in that.

"I thought we were making progress when you told me you were an infantilist, when you showed that you trusted me. Heck I even took it as a sign of progress when you admitted that you saw me as a mommy figure.
“It was cute,” she stands and continues talking, “watching you turn blush, stuttering like a child when you confessed that you fantasized about me.” She walks over to the closet in the corner of her office and opens the door.

“That you dreamed about mommy changing you into a diaper.” she pulled a diaper from the closet, easily larger enough to fit him, and the blood in his body rushes to his cheeks and his the head of his penis and he gets dizzy and looks at the floor.

“Look at me honey, don’t look a the floor. This is important.” It’s not the words but the tone that makes him pull his gaze from the carpet. Penelope isn’t angry or cold any more, but gently, carefully getting his attention. Almost cooing more than talking.

“Are you with me honey?” Thomas nods his head slowly, not sure if he is going to cry from fear or joy, but that tears are imminent.

“Good. You told me,” she continues as she sets the diaper on her desk and reaches back into the closet, “that you wanted mommy to dress you up so that everyday you felt loved and cute as a button.” She pulls out a onesie, some coveralls and some velcro sneakers, all in exactly his size.

“You said that you wanted mommy to always have your paci and your bottle ready whenever you need them she would have them ready for you,” she says as she pulls the bottle and pacifier from the closet. The bottle is already filled with milk, he can feel his mouth salivating, and half sucking in desire as he spots it.

“And I really don’t know what else to do but give that to you,” she plants her hands on her desk looking past the pile of all of Thomas’s deepest dreams and darkest secrets, " but I not for just one hour a week. You’ll just cum and spend the rest of the week waiting to come back for a therapy session."

Thomas wanted to say anything to convince her, would say anything to convince but he knew it was true. And he couldn’t lie to her. Not now, never again.

"The point of this treatment, is to help you get this out of your system. Not, AB/DL itself, but this childish behavior that is very clearly your cry for help. That is you not saying but screaming out to the world that you can’t be an adult.

So we need to normalize this for you, help release some of the urges and desire in a real and lasting way, or you are never going to move out your mom’s house, and you are never going to finally go back to college." She explains all of this in a patient tone, like a parent explaining how potty training works to a nervous child. I grow embarrassed and once again stare deeply into the carpet.

I can see her shoes as she walks slowly toward me before extending a finger under my chin and raising my head to look her in the eyes.

“So Thomas, are you ready to be a baby again” she slips into baby talk, “To be safe and snug in whatever adorable baby clothes mommy dresses you in.” I nod, not trusting myself to make a sound. My cock, at this moment, is not just hard. It’s made of steel. It’s so hard it hurts.

“To suck on your paci wassy all day long?” I nod.
"To play in your little play pen with your toys and watch little itty bitty baby shows on T.V.? " I nod.
“To have mommy feed you all your num nums in your highchair?” I nod.
“To take naps in your crib whenever mommy thinks you are being a cranky little baby?” I nod.
“To have mommy give you baths to make sure that every inch of her baby is clean?” I nod.
“To nursy from mommies boobies till your little belly gets all filled up?” I nod.
“To make pee pee’s and poopies in your diapies?” I nod.
“And sit in your little gifts to mommy, until mommy checks you, because little babies like you don’t know about big boy stuff like that, do they?”

“And then mommy will lift you up on the changing table to wipe you down, lifting your legs all the way up into the air so you get her little boy all the way clean.”

“You want this?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“This is the last chance to say no little one. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I want to be my mommies little baby boy!” I instinctively slipped into a childish voice.

I hear a quiet sob from the side of the room. When I turn my head I see the last person in the world I want to be in that room, with tears in their eyes.

“I finally get my baby boy back,” my mother said.

I start to sob, and then I hear a hissing noise and my pants start to get warm. And wet. All of that on a perfect couch too.

A shame really.

Re: You Get What You Need

I like the scene you painted.
A nice quick glimpse of a short moment. It doesn’t trouble itself too much with a long backstory, but you’ve used the conditions of the scene to give a little exposition. It’s pretty believable in that respect.

There are a couple things like seemingly random tense changes.

And I think the shift to first person is just a hair too abrupt.
So yeah, it could use a little polish for clarity.

But it’s still pretty neat.

And of course, I’ve now got the Rolling Stones stuck in my head.

Re: You Get What You Need

I can’t stop crying. I was sobbing slowly rocking back and forth on the now ruined perfect couch, and my chest aches from how hard and quickly I wail, struggling to catch my breath, taking little stuttering breaths trying to calm down and failing completely.

In a heartbeat my mother and my therapist are with me, comforting me, one wrapping me so tightly in a hug that breathing only becomes more difficult while the other cradles my head and rubs my head in gentle circular motions.

One of them begins to coo into my ear, “Shhhhh… It’s okay little one, we are here. It’s okay, it’s okay. Shhhhh…… You’ve been very brave Tommy, trying to tell both of us what you needed but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it.” She is so close that her breath tickles my ears as she whispers, “You don’t gotta be brave no more baby. We are gonna be brave for you. Just let it out, let it all out. Just let it all out.”

I don’t know who was hugging and who was cooing comforts into my ear. I can’t see them, because as soon as I blink my eyes fill with more tears, burning and covering my world with a blurry filter, a tsunami of tears hiding me from the real world.

As I cry and cry I instinctively curl up, hiding my weak spots, but the hug just turns into one of them cradling me while I still sit in the chair. I realize that they don’t even avoid the piss stains on my jeans. This makes me start crying all over again.

Eventually, I catch my breath and the only thing I can say, that I say endlessly over and over again is “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The words start sounding thick with my own snot as I rock back and forth with my eyes shut. I’m too frightened to open them. My stomach is wracked with knots of deep pain.

Time passes, how much I don’t know. I cry and apologize, one of them whispers and tells me to let it all out, that it will get better. Slowly my cries turn into hiccups, easing down from my earlier gasping for air. Then the hugger moves and I feel myself pulled into her arms, pressed against her warm body and my head rests above her shoulder. “There, there,” is the only thing she actually said, the rest is cooing, sounds of pure comfort, perfected by millennia of mothers, designed to calm.

She pats my back, square between my shoulders, and I burp several times and then pain in my stomach is gone. Then I smell her perfume, a scent that goes back farther into my childhood than my memory, and I know who it is. It’s Mom. My eyes stay shut. The world is still out there waiting.

I open my mouth to apologize again, to never stop apologizing, for being so weak, so sick, so broken, but before a word leaves my lips, something enters. Something rubber, and something I am dreadfully familiar with.

“What do I do?”, I think. I feel the comforting soft rubber pressing against the roof of my mouth, while still resting gently on my tongue. I haven’t even sucked on it, but I can feel my heart rate drop, my movements still. “I can’t…Not in front of them,” Is all I think, but the women notice the new and sudden calm in my body and Penelope whispers, “Thats adorable,” to my mom.

I want to start crying all over again, half out of desperate fear, and the other half simply to test how long they will try to comfort me, how long will they love me like this. I don’t trust it. I’m not going to fall for this.

But my reflex can’t be denied and the plastic shield pressed against my mouth and the silent allure of the bulb breaks me. I nurse slowly, and then the joy of it pushes me further and further until I am suckling like a newborn babe.

“Awww,” I hear one of them say, but I don’t open my eyes. If I did then that would be some signal of permission or of admission, that I will not give. I sense the other woman wave the other to be quiet, trying not to spoil the moment. My eyes are still shut, but I can feel, some wordless way, Mom mouthing silently, “Don’t wake the baby.”

I try not to smile at this and I fail.

I keep my eyes tightly shut as I am lowered slowly onto the ground. There is something soft there, that crinkles slightly and I know its a changing matt. I nurse my pacifier furiously, and I want to speak, but I know that any words from me will just make this more real, that my illusion of this being a dream or a nightmare will shatter with the first thing I say.

“Hey there cutie pie,” a voice form directly above my head whispers, and I risk it, I finally risk it and open my eyes ever so slightly. My therapist is there, above me, her jet black hair falling around her head, framing her small smile. She radiates love so strongly I can feel it on my skin, like light to a pale thing that has hidden away from the sun for far to long.

In a sweet voice, reserved only for infants she says, “You like your paci don’t you mister?”, as she speaks she boops me on my nose. I nod very slowly, loving this utterly, but still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the screaming and the disgust to begin. Penelope smiles and pushes my hair of my forehead to plant a big wet kiss there.

“You are safe now baby, okay?”

This drew another hesitant nod from me.

“Aunt Penny and Mommy are gonna be taking care of you for a while.”

This time I don’t nod, and a frown crosses her face.

She sighs, “It’s okay baby, you’ll figure out we are serious sooner or later.”

I settle as the exhaustion from my crying fit finally kicks in. My ribs hurt, my face hurts, my everything just hurts.

Aunt Penny sticks her arm behind my back and lifts me slightly, but carefully and says, “Okay mister, stick your arms out for Aunt Penny.” I’m too tired to argue and I stretch my arms weakly into the air as Aunt Penny strips the tear stained shirt off of me. I feel Mom undoing my belt and my piss stained pants a moment later, followed by my boxers. I get a burst of fear and rage, but just as quickly as it arrives it’s gone. I had done what they asked, though not intentionally. I had “cried it all out.”, there was really nothing left, I was hollow and exhausted after years and years of pain and fear leaving my body all at once.

So instead of crying and pitching another fit when I saw my clothes, my piss and tear stained clothes, tossed into a trash bag, I just nurse my paci more. I am laying naked as the day I was born on the floor on a changing matt and I can’t bring myself to care.

When the rustling of the trash bag being shoved in the closet is replaced by the rustling of Mom getting a diaper, my diaper ready. I just don’t care. I’m numb.

I don’t say a word, I just rhythmically nurse my paci as Mom grabs my ankles and lifts my legs up into the air, so high that only the small of my back rests on the ground. Aunt Penny scoots the diaper beneath me, and squares it up perfectly lined up under my bottom.

I hear a plastic click and the scent of baby wipes fills the room. “These smell good,” Aunt Penny says, reading my mind, “Don’t they buddy?” Her first touch makes me shiver, but she ignores me and continues on diligently with her new responsibility, throughly cleaning every inch of skin, pausing only to tease me after she cleans up my butt crack, “Baby wasn’t the best at keeping his bottom squeaky clean was he?”, she holds up the brown stained wipe as evidence and then tickles my stomach after making a silly face. I wriggle as she does and Mom gently thumps my thigh and reminds me to “Be a good baby and Mommy and Aunt Penny will get all the yucky pee-pee off of your cute hiney”.

Mom still has my ankles in hand so it must be Aunt Penny who soft spreads a handful of baby power on my rear end, even spreading my cheeks to cover every inch. Then my legs are gently lowered and spread, so Aunt Penny can continue her responsibility to power every inch of my bottom.

My silence is shared, but the ritual of the diapering seems to spark some old habits from both Mom and Aunt Penny. They start whispering like two new mothers, trying not to wake a cranky baby.

“He is such a cutie pie isn’t he?”, Aunt Penny starts as she tickles my belly with her free hand.

“Yes, he is,” Mom answers as she nods approvingly at Aunt Penny’s efforts to cover my bottom in baby power.

When Aunt Penny handles my member, as burnt out and hollow as I feel, it starts to grow, quickly like it suddenly realizes that a fantasy is coming true.

“Oh, there our little soldier,” Aunt Penny teases, “Coming straight to attention just like a good little soldier should.” Laying on my back I can’t really see what she reaches for in her free hand, but I hear something clinking against glass.

“I’m sorry little guy,” she says to my member, “But I can’t give you any presents today, Tommy is just a little too overwhelmed for that.” Then to Mom she says, " I’ll show you now how to deal with this, it’s just as easy as I said it would be." Then I see the ice in her hand and I feel the cold pressing against my hot member. The ice cube shrinks it, and I squirm and wriggle powerlessly and Mom takes her chance to pull the front of the diaper tight and then shut.

As numb as I am, the sense of deja vu, the swirl of barely sensible memories overwhelms me and the sensation of the diaper, my diaper pressed tightly against my hips and bottoms flings me back into the sense memory of my past. I barely resist the instinct to gurgle and coo, but I start furiously nursing my paci and squirm even more.

Aunt Penny just clicks her tongue and says to my Mom, “Tommy is just tuckered out. It’s been a big day.” She lays her hand across my naked belly to still me. “Or really, its been the littlest day you’ve had in a long time huh?” Her hands shift to my ribs and she tickles me gently and I wriggle and begin to calm down.

My Mom, still sitting down, pulls over the pile of baby clothes. They talk idly as they dress me.

“Where on earth did you get these adorable diapers?” Aunt Penny said.

"Aren’t they just the cutest things? I got them from Bambinos, the Rearz Safari style. All the cute little animals for my cutie patootie.

As she pulls the plain blue onesie over my head she continues, “Tommy was a big wetter back when he was little,” then Mom considers me, lying on the changing matt, nursing on my paci, with my onesie still half on my body and my diapers still proudly on display, “Well, I guess when he was little-er,” she finishes.

“But this offers all the cuteness mommy needs and the protection baby needs,” she explains as she snaps shut the metal buttons shut at the bottom of the onesie, my onesie now. The way it pulls my diaper even tighter just sends me deeper into silence.

“That’s a good purchase,” Aunt Penny says approvingly, then she is above me and grabs me tightly underneath my armpits, “upsie-daisy Tommy,” she half says, half sings and her and me both pull myself upright.

Aunt Penny pats my firmly on my bottom and smiles deeply at the sound the diaper makes, “What a good baby,” she say slowly, drawing out all of the syllables in ‘good’ and ‘baby’. Then she speaks to my Mom, “Did you get all of the babies new presents set up?”

“Yes,” Mom says as she shakes the wrinkles out of a pair of overalls, “Tommy has been so stressed out lately that when I suggested he go out early for breakfast and a movie he happily agreed.”

“You didn’t hurt your back did you?”

“No Penny, though I appreciate the concern. Four hours was plenty of time to put together the nursery. I have done it once before.”

Then Mom walks over to me and looks me straight in the eyes, growing serious for the first time since entering the room, “Penny told me you would likely be in shock at this point. She said later I would have a heck of a tantrum or two to deal with, and I told her been there done that.” She titters at her own joke, “But I need you to listen okay Tommy?”

I struggle though the mental fog and nod.

“This is not about shame. At all. Shame doesn’t work to break habits and mommy would never hurt you. These are normal overalls, and your onesie won’t be noticeable when we leave. You will be wearing your big boy shoes just until we get to my car then we can take them off and you can stop pretending to be something you are not. Penny will come to my house tonight to sleepover to help you settle in but for a little bit its just gonna be you and mommy okay?”

“Otay,” I answer, my paci slurring my speech.

“Good baby,” then she gestures with the overalls, holding them out so I can step into the leg holes, then she pulls them up and higher and clips them tight.

I am still numb from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, but I’m dressed.

Mom steps back and smiles satisfied at her job of dressing up her little man. Then she pulls me close into a hug, which I don’t return. I just can’t.

Mom doesn’t look upset, but she can’t hide her sadness, not from me, and the moment passes.

Then she speaks to me again, “We are about to go home to all your new stuff little one, but before we take off you need to get some fluids into you, you are all cried out Mommy doesn’t want a cranky and dehydrated baby,” then she walks over to her purse and pulls a baby bottle filled with amber liquid from it. “Who do you want to feed you this baby?” she asks.

Without, hesitation I murmur, “Penwy,” because I knew it would hurt her.

It did.

But without protest she hands the bottle over to Aunt Penny, who sits down on the grounds against the wall and has a pillow laying across her lap. “Come here Tommy,” she says as she pats the pillow, inviting me over. I start to walk over and she clicks her tongue, I stop in my tracks, “Nice try buster, but think again.” She can see the confusion in my face, and continues, “Try doing it like your supposed to stinky butt,” she mimes out crawling to drop a hint.

Without protest, still stuck in that bizarre fog I drop to my knees and crawl over obediently, and I can feel my hips swing with inch I move on the carpeted floor.

Apparently I’m quite the sight because both Mom and Aunt Penny, “Awwww…” at the same time, finding the bobbing of my diapered behind just too cute.

I reach Aunt Penny and she kisses me right on the forehead again before lowering my head onto the pillow across her lap. She gently removes my paci before carefully moving the bottle to my lips, “Open up for Aunt Penny,” she murmurs and when I do I get the sweet taste of apple juice across my tongue. There is a bitter note, but I don’t care. I have all of her and she has all of me in that moment.

My practice with the paci seems to ease my nursing, but I slow when Aunt Penny begins to slowly massage my head with her free hand, and she coos as I drink deep. She is everything, in that moment, all I can see and all I want to see. Her careful smile, her fierce green eyes, her dimples that show when she calls me a “greedy baby” and giggles softly. I don’t want it to end.

But it does, though I again have no idea how long it takes. Then I’m sucking at a empty bottle and then she is patting at my back until I burp and then its over.

I’m so upset by the nursing ending I want to cry again, but the nursing from the bottle sent me even deeper into silence, and it feels too sacred to shatter.

Aunt Penny lifts me onto my feet and Mom leads me out the office. Aunt Penny waves “Bye Bye,” and warns me, “You need to be just this cute when I see you tonight or I’m gonna gobble you up,” then she gives me another wet smooch on my forehead.

Mom leads me by the hand out to the minivan and slides open the back door. I’m not surprised when I see an enormous Sesame Street themed car seat set in the back row of seats. She guides me into the car seat and sets me in it before stripping my big boy shoes off. Then she uses some new attachment to her keys to lock the straps on the chair.

It’s only ten minutes into the drive home that I start to scream bloody murder.

P.s. Your welcome for the stones Vearynope, :slight_smile:

Re: You Get What You Need, Ch. 1 & 2

Wonderful :slight_smile:

This topic was automatically closed after 92 days. New replies are no longer allowed.