Loving Care: The Stories of Lola Trechlyn

Chapter 2
II - Lemonade Conundrum

Chapter Description: F on M, Physical AR. / Originally published on April 18th, 2007.

He couldn’t believe he had managed to pull it off. On his twenty-third birthday, two years to the evening after they had met, Eric had at last convinced Tammy to indulge his deepest, darkest fantasy. And though many would have found it an odd sight, Eric felt perfectly content sprawled across the couch on top of his girlfriend’s lap, naked except for a white disposable diaper, and nursing lemonade from a baby bottle.

“I don’t know, Eric...” Tammy had said. “The whole idea weirds me out a bit. Just a bit.”

“Pweeeaaase?” Eric had replied, chuckling. “Just for tonight? It’s my birthday, babe.”

“Alright. Just for tonight.”

Eric squirmed in Tammy’s lap and let out a cheerful giggle around the nipple, thrilling at the sensation of the underside of his impossibly hard cock sliding along the front panel of the tightly-taped diaper. He was in ecstasy. And Tammy, always the sport, smiled down at him, holding the bottle upright against her boyfriend’s lips as he sucked. The cool, slightly tart lemonade washed over Eric’s tongue and reminded him of simpler times. Helpless times, when he was a dependent, diapered toddler, reliant on the women in his life to care for him, love him, and change him when he messed.

It was all Eric could do to keep from reaching down and masturbating right then and there.

As if reading his mind, Tammy gingerly traced a line down Eric’s happy trail with her free hand, resting it upon the diaper’s waistband before removing two of the tapes and sliding her soft, feminine hand inside. Never removing her eyes from Eric’s longing gaze, she wrapped her long and delicate fingers around her boyfriend’s throbbing cock, and began to stroke. The crinkling of the diaper met with Eric’s lustful moan in perfect harmony.

“Eric likes his diapers, doesn’t he?” Tammy asked in her most patronizing, sing-songy voice.

Eric giggled, a smile beaming across his face as he nursed. “Uh-huh.”

“Baby Eric likes nursing from his ba-ba, duddn’t he?”

A gasp caught in Eric’s throat as he leaked pre-cum from the head of his pulsing cock. It ached with pleasure. “Uh-huh,” he said, his voice deeper, more needful.

"Would widdle baby Ewic wike to be Tammy’s itty-bitty bundle of joy fowevers an’ evers?” said Tammy in flawless baby-talk.

Eric moaned and squirmed, the crinkle of his diaper piercing the air. He could feel himself getting close to the greatest orgasm of his life.

“Yes, Mommy,” he heaved in pleasure. “Yes.”

“Gooood,” Tammy hummed, smiling down at her boyfriend. “Because Mommy prepared some special lemonade for her little sweetheart today. Every third of an ounce he drinks peels away a year of the nasty big-boy age baby Eric’s stored up. Those unfortunate, evil years that only helped to hide, to bury, his true self. Isn’t that nice, baby? Look at yourself... it’s already started.”

Eric felt his heart sink into his stomach as he realized it was true. Two ounces into the contents of his seven-ounce bottle, and the body Eric saw when he looked down was the smaller, less toned frame he sported at 17 years of age. Six years of diligent gymgoing had been wiped away.

Horrified, Eric stopped sucking.

And, not one second later, Tammy stopped stroking his cock.

“Awww,” Tammy mock-pouted. “Does Ewic not like his Mommy pwaying wif his peepee?”

The teenager shuddered. He was so, so horny. He needed to get off.

“Drink your baba, sweetums.”

Apprehension washed over Eric as he resumed drinking the cool lemonade. As the jets of refreshing liquid enveloped his tongue, Tammy slid her hand up and down Eric’s penis, which was now entirely slick with pre-cum. Eric moaned as his stiff rod tented the diaper outward and pulled its soft cotton against his testicles. The crinkling fabric massaged the 16-year-old’s balls with a mind-blowing sensation he would never, ever forget.

“That’s right, little one. That’s Mommy’s good boy. Mommy’s so proud of her widdle Ewic! Oh, how I’ve dreamed of this night. I know I seemed reticent, but I was just biding my time. Planning the scene, preparing my special lemonade - making sure my true love Eric’s twenty-third birthday would be the best second birthday any baby’s ever had.”

Eric whined audibly around the nipple. He didn’t like this at all! He didn’t want to be a real baby! But as he dumbly watched his happy trail recede into his skin as he reached 15 years old, Eric could only consider the paroxysms of ecstasy ricocheting through his central nervous system. Tammy’s touch felt so good!

Get a hold of yourself!

The young teen stopped nursing. He struggled to regain his sense of judgment.

And Tammy stopped stroking.

Eric whined pathetically. He didn’t want to get any younger. He didn’t want to have to repeat junior high school. All those boys who tormented his scrawny self, all those girls who laughed in his face as he sheepishly asked them out. He hated every waking minute of it.

But he knew that if his girlfriend gave him just a few more strokes, he’d get off the biggest and best load of his life. He needed it more than anything he could recall.

He fucked his girlfriend’s hand, the deliciously humiliating diaper hugging his balls and ass, and lustfully took still more lemonade into his hungry mouth. Tammy returned the favor, pumping Eric’s cock inside his diaper through her sturdy grip. The boy swallowed whole gulps of the bitter confection, his body rapidly decreasing in size as he regressed to 14 years old, then 13, then 12. Eric’s diaper had become far too big for him; it hung loosely at his hips, and as he stared downward over his dwindling body, he caught sight of his girlfriend masturbating him just in time to see the last of his pubic hair recede into the follicles beneath his skin.

“Eric really does want to be a little guy, doesn’t he?” Tammy teased. She was amazed at how efficiently the drink was working. From haircut to toes, Eric’s body metamorphosed -- second by second, swallow by swallow -- by months and years to reflect precisely how he resembled at those exact times. At age 11, Tammy discovered, Eric’s hair had been a soft, magnificently fine baby-blond. At age 10, he had had a noticeable wound underneath his right eye he had received while roller skating. And at age nine, his penis was but a short, laughable shadow of what it would be all those years later. Tammy held onto it with the tips of her index finger and thumb and jerked softly.

Eric was tired. But he wasn’t body tired. He was head tired. His head was fuzzy. Like something had been sucked out of it. Like he had just woked up. He had all his memories. He knew that he had gone to college. But he couldn’t remember anything he learned there. He knew that he gave kisses to a girl named Tammy even though girls are gross. He knew he liked dinosaurs. He knew he liked watching his older brother roller skate and that he asked for some of his own for Christmas. Eric had been a good boy all year. He hoped Santa would agree.

The eight-year-old on Tammy’s lap pulled his mouth away from the nipple of the bottle and struggled to recompose his thoughts.

Darnit! Where’d the good feeling go?

Eric squirmed. He knew his girlfriend was making him feel these unimaginable, wholly encapsulating waves of pleasure... but only if he kept drinking the lemonade!

...And he was so close!

Tammy smiled maliciously as her reliably horny boyfriend resumed nursing, sacrificing still more of his years for the simple, passing pleasures of the flesh. It was the unabashed, self-centered hedonism of childhood which gripped Eric. He felt so, so good, and he knew no moderation.

He began to drink faster. And Tammy stroked faster.

Ashamed by his most basic urges, and the fate to which they were sending him, Eric began to cry the tears of a child.

“Don’t cwy, widdow Ew-wiiic,” Tammy patronized, pushing her bottom lip outward as her boyfriend wept. “Mommy’s going to take such good care of you! And she’s a very patient teacher. Mommy knows it’s going to be hard for you to go back to diapers full-time for a couple years, but she’ll be there to change you and wipe up your stinky bum-bum. And before you know it, you’ll be learning how to use the potty chair, just like a big boy! Mommy will sit there with you and hold your hand as you struggle and strain to make pee-pees and poopies for her. You’re such a bright boy, Eric... I know it will just be a matter of time before you graduate to training pants!”

Eric was angry. Didn’t Mommy know that diapers were for babies? At five years old, Eric was no baby. He was a big boy. He had his Turtles underwear to prove it. And because he was four, he knew exacy how to use his potty. He jus sit on da ring when he haf make poopies an dat was it. Jus wike his bruvver show hims. He cunnut wait to make his bruvver pwoud by wernin da potty. Bu he stiw needsta wear dipees cuz he jus a widdow... bitty...

The very last droplet of lemonade hit the back of Eric’s throat and he was rocked by the most powerful, mind-blindingly, rapturously violent orgasm he had ever experienced. Incandescence washed over his consciousness and a million klaxons pealed across the landscape of his id. Eric thrashed, he howled, he beat his tiny fists on Tammy’s lap.

The wonderful misery ebbed to nothing, and it was over. And Eric opened his eyes to find that he was 23 years of memories and self-awareness imprisoned within the body and mind of a two-year-old.

The infant wail that escaped Eric’s lips when his girlfriend pulled the bottle away was deafening.

“Now, hush!” Tammy scolded, untaping the ridiculously oversized diaper and tossing it aside. She placed her hands underneath Eric’s armpits and lifted him into a standing position on her lap. Tammy was awed and amused as she looked into his face -- the screwed-up, mouth-agape, eyes-pressed-shut face of a pudgy and tormented toddler.

“Honestly, sweetheart,” said Tammy. She shook her head as a long line of baby drool fell from Eric’s mouth onto her shirt. “Whatever is Mommy going to do with you?”

Tammy carried her boyfriend over to the kitchen counter and laid him down. She chuckled at the sight of him, his weak little fists and feet punching and kicking in frustrated terror, his tiny penis bouncing comically around his hairless crotch. By the time she had fitted a baby-blue pacifier into his mouth, Eric had worn himself out, and he commenced the sucking motion to which he had so recently grown accustomed.

Eric blushed a deep crimson hue as he watched Tammy unfold a smaller, much more appropriately-sized diaper. It had dinosaurs. He liked dinosaurs. He knew it was no use resisting. Resigned to the ultimate humiliation, Eric stared at the ceiling as his girlfriend lifted his tiny feet into the air, slid the diaper underneath his bottom, and set his legs back down. Tammy guided the soft fabric up between the toddler’s legs and held it to his tummy, expertly taping the crinkly plastic together. No measure of sexual gratification greeted the boy as he squirmed around in his new padding.

“Aww, doesn’t Eric like his Pampers?” Tammy cooed. “Well, you’d better get used to them, sweetpea. You’re going to be wearing them for a long, long time.”

Minutes later, as Eric was being rocked idly against Tammy’s breast, he found himself staring at the wall in a haze, realizing with one remaining spark of sobriety that the last of his comprehension was slipping away from his mind like pebbles through splayed fingers. The memories of his adult life melted away into a puddle and evaporated into darkness. He lost Tammy’s name. He lost college, his first kiss, learning to drive. Objects became ideas, then colors. Colors without names.

Big world. World scawy. Need Mommy.

Eric sniffled as he filled his diaper. He was tired. He wished he didn’t have to grow up too soon.

-21 YEARS LATER-

Karen sipped her iced tea, the warm sun beating down upon her shoulders. “Mrs. Bennett? Can I ask you something?”

“Please! Call me Tammy.” Mrs. Bennett turned her attention away from the hamburgers cooking on the grill just long enough to shoot a warm smile to the young lady. “And you can ask me anything, dear.”

“What if...” Karen paused. “What if you, like, really, really loved someone. And, like, he wanted you to do something for him. But, like, you weren’t sure you really wanted to. But you wanted to, like, make him happy, still. Would it be, like, totally selfish not to do that thing?”

“Not totally,” said Tammy. “But, still, we all have to take our happiness where we can get it. And it’s always good karma to help people try to find that happiness.”

Karen nodded.

“Why, dear?” Tammy asked, handing the girl a burger. “What’s that boy wanting from you this time?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Eric opened the glass sliding door leading to the patio and stepped outside. He snapped open two cans of beer and handed one of them to Karen.

“So, Eric,” said Tammy. “Any special plans for the big two-three?”

“Just going to Karen’s house. So, no, nothing special.” Karen laughed and slapped Eric in the gut.

Tammy handed Eric a hamburger. “Well, I’m glad you were at least able to visit.”

“Thanks, Mom. Me too.”

Tammy turned to Karen. “Did I ever tell you how cute Eric was as a baby?”

“Mom!”

“Well, I’m sorry!” she said, raising her hands. “I thought she’d like to know.”

Eric felt a nervous tickle inside. Since he had shared his deepest, darkest fantasy with Karen all those months ago, this line of conversation always made him vaguely paranoid that his girlfriend was sharing gossip behind his back.

Later that evening, as Eric was packing the car, Tammy pulled Karen aside.

“I feel as if you were my own daughter, Karen,” Tammy said. “I love that you love him. Take good care of him.”

“I will, Tammy.”

“Just remember... he can’t change himself. Boys will be boys.”

Karen chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”

“C’mon, babe!” Eric howled from the car. “I’m not getting any younger over here!”

Tammy sighed at her miscreant son and slid a baby bottle full of lemonade into Karen’s purse. “You call me the minute you need anything, okay?”

“I will. Thank you.”

Tammy smiled and waved as she watched the two lovebirds drive away. She chewed on the word “grandmother” for as long as she could before retiring for the evening.

Retrospective

The publicly-muted but privately-wild positive response to "Little Champion" led me to fast-track a follow-up, which was released exactly one week later. Since it was basically a transcription of a fantasy I’ve "used" from time to time since 2003, writer’s block was never a threat. I knew, this time, I’d have to write something a little more complex, with a certain "hook" or "twist" to make it interesting. Nevertheless, I still wanted to keep it to one central scene-- and, again, we open in medias res.

Both Eric and Karen were named after real-life friends of mine. They have never met each other. If they ever do, something like this has a negative-percent chance of happening.

Thanks for reading. -lt