Sometimes When I Get Stressed And Anxious I Think What I Really Need Is A Mummy Who’ll Put Her Strap-on

N part III

N thinks about my desperate plea to stay with her as I provide a few more orgasms to her. Afterwards she says yes. I’m absolutely elated that she’s allowing me to stay. I hate myself for this. I can see the basic manipulation she’s employing: she knows she’ll say yes but holds off on saying so to make me worry she’ll say no, which makes me more thankful at the eventual yes. I can see it but I’m powerless to act or bring it up. All I can do is obey her.

N pulls on a dressing gown and leads me, still naked, from her bedroom into the flat’s lounge. I feel exposed, helpless, vulnerable, and something about that feels very exciting to me. She settles me onto the couch and gently ties my hands together, then my ankles. I sit passively and allow this, screaming at myself to move or fight back, this is the perfect chance. But I just sit and allow N to bind me, a stupid idiot smile on my face because the traitorous part of my mind wants to make N happy and knows she wants me to smile. N said I look good when I smile.

N busies herself around the room and I find myself watching her. Her gown rides up and I see a hint of white, flabby buttock. It comes a little loose at the front and I see her breasts hanging free, catch a hint of nipple before she pulls it closed, seemingly unaware of what I’ve seen and the raging erection I detest myself for having. I don’t even know why I have it. N is not physically attractive to me. It must be the admitted eroticism of the situation, having my mind affected, or perhaps some sort of training she’s snuck into me.

Then N is standing over me and I’m looking up into her eyes. She tells me she’s going to make me better by making sure I’m permanently passive and pliable and submissive. I won’t be rude or argumentative any more. I won’t want to scowl or argue. I’ll just want to let N take care of everything for me. I’ll understand that N knows best and I’ll want to defer to her and let her make my decisions for me. I’ll be weak and mindless and obedient, and I’ll thank N for making me that way.

I sum up all my mental strength, absolutely desperate to stop this and get out. I force my mouth open, trying to push out the word no. But my jaw just hangs slack. I try to shake my head. I manage to move it a fraction of an inch to the right but as I move it back the other way it comes to rest where it started as I stare up at N. She’s smiling a broad smile. I’m convinced she knows. She knows I’m trying to get away and she’s enjoying watching the struggle. She knows I’m losing to her.

As I continue my futile pushback N brings her hand up to my jaw and gently pushes it closed. Some part of me knows that was my final chance and I blew it. I stare at N’s breasts, hanging out of her gown as she leans forward and pushes earphones into my ears. Her hand returns to my chin, gently lifting my head upward so that I’m looking into her eyes. She blows me a kiss and I feel myself return an eager smile. I begin to think about how disappointed I am in myself, how angry I am with the situation, but soothing music and tinkly sounds and N’s voice start up in my ears and I realise within moments that it’s so much better to listen to them than be angry.

N leaves. I’m alone and naked and listening to a recording. But I realise I’m happy. I’m happy that N will make me better and take care of me and break down the boy I used to be to make me someone better. I’m so lucky to have found someone as caring and giving as N. And she’s cute too. How had I not realised that before? She’s cute and intelligent and successful and I’m the opposite of these things. My role should be to make N’s life better in any way I can. I should support N by submitting my life to hers. That’s the sensible thing to do.

And gradually I zone out. Maybe I fall asleep, I don’t know. Time passes but I don’t know how much. It doesn’t matter. What matters is listening and learning. Occasionally I become lucid for a moment or two to find N standing over me watching me listen, or switching around the earphones, or casually molesting my little peeny. And I’m so happy to see her and be touched by her and have her attention before I drift away back into my lovely trance.

I come back around. It’s like slowly waking up from the most peaceful, relaxing, refreshing sleep ever. I can’t wait to see N and show her how good and obedient I can be. How well I can passively follow instructions and allow her to think for me. The part of me that hates N is still here but it’s subdued so it has to watch on as I obey and worship and unconditionally love N. It’s part of how I’ll become a better boy, having that little kernel of hatred locked away inside me being worn down by my love and adoration of N. Eventually it will see that it should have been loving and worshipping and listening to N all along.

As I continue to wake up I realise I’m lying down on the couch and I’m wearing what feels like a onesie. And a nappy. It’s a strange sensation. I’ve never worn one as an adult and it feels bulky and restrictive but also comfortable and right. I realise I’m very thirsty. My mouth is dry, like I haven’t drunk anything for a day or two.

Then the door clicks open and I see N sweep into the room and she is a beautiful vision of loveliness. I had never appreciated how sexy and cute and pretty and fuckable she looked before. I feel my peeny harden in my nappy and try to greet N but there’s something strapped into my mouth stopping me. So I just smile up at her around it. And she smiles back! I know it’s a smile of condescension and triumph, but it’s still a smile from a strong, beautiful woman who is so much more than I could ever hope to be.

And then N is sitting down with my head in her lap and she’s removing whatever’s in my mouth and I’m staring up at her hoping I’ll get to speak. But N slips a bottle into my mouth and it’s the yummy, delicious liquid I like so much. I settle back and feel warm and safe and protected as I suck my bottle and N talks to me. I can’t remember what she’s saying but I know it’s true and very important and it will stay with me even though I can’t exactly remember it. I finish the bottle then drink another. And another. N has to force the third one into my mouth and hold it there and I realise I like N overpowering me and making me do things so I smile blissfully around the bottle in my mouth.

I begin to wet myself as I near the end of the sixth bottle. N coos at me and tells me how good I am when she realises. She says maybe she’ll keep me in nappies forever. And then she’s spoon feeding me a mushy paste that tastes similar to the yummy liquid and I eat it all up like a good boy and N tells me I’ve been very well behaved and taken to my training so well. She tells me I’m more submissive than she expected and that will make it easier. I don’t know what “it” is but I’m so happy I’ve made N pleased.

Then N is standing up and telling me it’s bedtime. I try to stand and walk but my body can’t seem to remember how. N settles me onto on fours and tells me if I can’t walk like a big boy maybe I should just crawl like the baby I am. And then I’m crawling after her, looking up her dress at her wobbly thighs and big pants and I’m in heaven. I realise I’m drooling at the sight and then N is turning around because she’s stopped walking and I worry that I’ll be in trouble for looking up her dress at her lovely bottom but I can’t help it and I’m still drooling… but N simply laughs at me and motions me into a large cot. N fastens a large dummy into my mouth and I feel more drool running down my already slick chin.

N tells me it’s bedtime and I have to be good and go to sleep like a good boy. I nod sleepily, trying to let her know I’ll do everything I can to be a good boy. Then she’s turning the light off and a recording starts up. This time it’s not in my ears it’s on some speakers. I’m so happy I get to listen to N’s voice and teachings as I drift off. N leans over the cot and tells me I belong to her now and there’s no escape. I’ve never felt happier, even with a tiny part of my mind screaming at me to rebel.

N walks out. A lock clicks shut behind her and I drift off to sleep as I stare at the early evening light filtering in through the curtains and listen to N’s beautiful voice.

This morning a woman wearing a long, flowing ankle-length white dress sat opposite me on the train. I could make out her big boobs through the dress. I couldn’t stop thinking about being put over her knee all the way to work. To the point where I thought about trying to talk to her. But I didn’t. I know my place.

“Mummy’s boobies just turn your mind to mush, don’t they baby? That’s okay. Mummy will think for you.”

Brainwash me into identifying as Tinkerbell from the Disney Peter Pan, complete with very short dress and inability to speak but without the sassy attitude. Make me loyal to you and compliant and desperate to serve you with magic… and maybe convince me giving blowjobs to strap-ons is “magic.”

‘Baby, I can see you’re still worried about all this so let me explain again. Of course I don’t mind, that’s what mummies are for. And I know you find thinking around me so hard.

So, I know a man sucking a cock would usually be thought of as “gay.” I know you know there’s nothing wrong with being gay, shush now. Mummy knows. Mummy knows you identify as a straight boy. And mummy knows that you’re worried sucking a cock interferes with that.

But sweetie… it’s MUMMY’S cock. There can’t be anything gay about having sex with a mummy, can there? You see? And even if there was, you love mummy so much that it just wouldn’t matter, isn’t that right? Of course it is! Now why don’t you kneel down and show me what an obedient, well-behaved, mummy-loving cocksucker you can be?’

A good boy masturbates while thinking about how wonderful feminism is. But a good boy never cums because being denied makes him stupider and easier to manipulate for the feminist cause.

Fantasy idea: dress me up in a onesie or a little sailor suit. Cuff my wrists together and my ankles together and then cuff those sets of cuffs together. Put a gag in my mouth. Leave me to awkwardly crawl around on the floor all weekend. Tell me I have to do my best to always be in your view and then, of course, find lots of reasons to keep moving around the house. When you do settle somewhere make it somewhere awkward for me to sit. Go for long stretches of barely acknowledging me and then occasionally overload me with praise and maybe some touching.

Watch me become yours.

Tell me how happy and honoured I feel to be going down on you as I’m going down on you.

I want a mummy to cup my soft cock and balls in her hand and gently tell me she loves how small and unintimidating I am.

My boss let me leave half an hour early today. On the way home I was fantasising about her telling me I’d be allowed to leave early in exchange for a good boy worship puddle dedicated to her when I got home, and now I kind of want to act on that…