Page 31 of Spencer's Satisfaction
Swallowing, I turn my attention back to the box. The next item I reach for is a super soft cotton onesie. It is white with a black kitten printed on the belly, and a bunch of cute, kitty paw prints covering the rest of the fabric. I’d thought of Frank when I saw it and hadn’t been able to resist.
I toy with the button snaps for a bit, enjoying the loudclicksin the relative silence of my room, before carefully laying the onesie out alongside the package of diapers. A packet of wipes follows along with a container of barrier cream, and I blush a little at having bought them, because it feels like confirmation of my intention tousethe diapers.
Beneath these items I find the remaining few things I’d ordered. Two pacifiers, one blue and the other red, some bath toys and bubble bath liquid, and three bottles with different styles of teat.
My heart pounds as I reach for them, and I’m startled to feel my cock swelling at the thought of using them with my Daddy.
It’s gettingwayahead of the program. Besides, Spencer has been clear that he doesn’t usually engage in sexual acts when his partner is in little space. Even though I think he’d try if I said I really wanted to experiment that way, I don’t want to push his boundaries like that. Not when there are so many other things I’d like to try first. So, I don’t know quite what my dick thinks he’s getting out of all this, but he’s excited anyway.
I’m alone, so I’m just going to roll with it.
“Okay, let’s go wash you so I can try you out,” I tell the bottles and pacifiers, gathering them up in my arms and scurrying down the hall and into the kitchen. Tanya’s at work and a glance up at the clock reassures me that I have a few hours of precious alone time left, but I’m still paranoid that she’ll pop out from behind a corner and see what I’ve brought into our home.
Not that there’s anything to be ashamed of, the voice in my head that sounds just like Daddy says, cool and calm as always.
“There’s not,” I agree out loud, nodding decisively.
Still, I wash and dry my new items in what has to be record time, selecting a wide, squat bottle with a big, bulbous teat to try first. I fill the bottle with milk, heat it briefly in the microwave, then screw the teat on top. I cover the tiny hole in the silicone nipple with my thumb and give the bottle a shake to even out the temperature. Then I gather up the rest of my items and carry it all back into my room, locking myself back inside.
I’ve given this a lot of thought since I pressed the ‘confirm’ button on my purchases. I considered trying things one at a time at first, but ultimately decided that it makes more sense to go all in if I want the best chance at regressing. I figure, the more babylike I can make myself feel physically, the more my brain will get on board.
Well, that’s my working theory, anyway.
If it doesn’t work and all I achieve is feeling ridiculous, at least I’m in the privacy of my own room and there’s nobody else around to witness it happening.
I put the bottle of milk and the blue pacifier on my nightstand and then drop the remaining washed purchases into the box on my bed. Then, taking a deep breath, I start undressing.
* * *
Wearing a diaper is…an interesting experience. It wasn’t exactly fun putting it on myself, but when I imagined Daddy doing it, it made the process easier. The padded material is surprisingly comforting, though it’s going to take me a while to get used to wearing such bulky underwear. It makes a distinctive papery crinkling sound when I move, forces my stance to widen so I waddle more than walk, and it adds weight and pressure to my dick that normal underwear do not.
That pressing sensation only increases when I am wearing the onesie with the snaps along the crotch all done up. I can’t help but think that it feels good in a kinky sort of way. Probably one of the reasons Littles tend to get hard during Little time.
Stepping in front of the body-length mirror inside the door of my wardrobe, I take in my appearance for the first time. I lookcute. My already round butt is rounded out further by the excessive padding of my diaper. The onesie itself doesn’t quite cover the plastic-treated material of my diaper’s exterior, with the cotton brief cut of my onesie exposing the kind of frilly leg cuffs and a bit of the ‘cheek’ covering too. It actually makes mefeellittleseeing myself this way.
I grab my phone from the bed and snap a photo of my reflection, undecided on whether I’ll send it to Spencer or keep it to myself. Either way, I want to commemorate this moment because it honestly feels kind of life changing, like a jigsaw piece snapping into place and creating a clearer picture of who I truly am.
I toss my phone back onto the bed and then move the box of my purchases to the floor, climbing under my soft blankets and reclining onto a pre-prepared nest of pillows with my bottle now in hand. It is lukewarm to the touch now, and I close my eyes as I bring it to my lips.
At first, the mouth feel of the thick, rubbery plastic is foreign and wrong, and it takes me a little while to get used to the motion and angle of holding the bottle up and sucking to successfully access the milk. But, once I’ve got a good rhythm going, I relax into it and let my mind wander.
I imagine I’m lying in Daddy’s arms and that he’s the one holding the bottle, carding those long, dexterous fingers of his through my hair. He’s murmuring sweet words of praise and encouragement, and I’m filled with a warmth that isn’t just caused by the milk making its way into my belly.
It’s only as I’m sucking at air that I’m surprised to realize that I’ve drained the bottle and I want more. But, more than that, I want more with Daddy. I want him to be a part of this, to feel what it’s like to indulge this whole new side of myself with him.
My head feels kind of floaty at this point, adult concepts and words starting to elude me.
Is this what it’s like to regress? Can it really be so easy?
I know I’m not quite there, but I don’t think it would take much for me to just let go andbelittle from this point.
As it is, my impulse control is gone enough for me to grab for my phone and send Spencer that photo I took just before.
My phone rings barely a minute later.
“Hello?” I answer him, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.
“Angel,” he sounds bewildered but adoring, “that picture…”
