Tall Orders for Tommie

She's grinning. Ordinarily, that would be a good thing, of course. Nothing very scary about a happy girlfriend when you're headed out on a date. But there's something in Cheyenne's grin tonight that's making me more than a tiny bit uneasy.

"What? Am I not allowed to be happy?" is all she says when I ask her the reason for her seeming mirth. "What's not to love, Tom? I've just finished a long-ass week of work. It's Friday night, and I'm headed out for drinks with my favorite person in all the world. Of course I'm gonna be happy!" And with a toss of her dark curls and an innocent giggle, she has once again avoided directly answering my question.

Well, nothing for it but to play along. So into the bus we go, headed for the neon glow of the downtown party district.

As we bump and sway toward our destination, I can't help but reflect on how good we really are together. I'd never have imagined a tall, stunning, intelligent brunette like Cheyenne being into me – and certainly not once she found out the, um, well… the things that turn me on in the bedroom. Leaving her amazing looks and brains aside, she had seemed far too polite and soft-spoken to ever be the type to enjoy dominating her partner in bed, let alone outside of it. And yet…

Well, over the past six months I've been happily surprised. As has she.

"You're gonna be a good boy for me tonight, aren't you?" she whispers in my ear, and I flush, goose pimples rising at her affected, condescending tone. "You do know what happens to naughty boys who don't behave themselves, right?" My pulse is hammering rather faster than usual, and I swiftly glance around before leaning close and mumbling a shameful assent into her shoulder. Uh, huh. Yeah, I- I know…

The musical giggle in my ear – the knowing brush of her hand against my tightening crotch – the widening grin on her face… It all tends toward the same point. She's definitely going to have fun with me tonight. And being the submissive, kinky, humiliation-craving guy that I am, there's no way I'm about to stop her – even if I still don't quite know exactly what she has in mind.

***

Uh-oh. Did she… did she see me looking at that weirdly arousing omorashi page the other day?

Her voice cuts through the thudding bass and swirl of laughter around me, interrupting my uncomfortable musings. "Drink up, dude! What's the matter? I thought you loved mojitos!" I'm not sure if her plan is to get me drunk or just thoroughly hydrated, but either way she's definitely pressuring me to drink a lot. Heck, I think I've gulp down more liquids in this last hour than I had all day!

I squirm on the bar stool as she snickers and nudges my mostly empty glass. "Don't worry, honey. I'm here," she murmurs, reaching for the pitcher and serving me out yet another round. "I'll see to it that you get all the drinks you need! Besides, they're only like six percent or whatever, so you're hardly going to be drunk. They're practically limeade! So go on, babe. I can't have you getting dehydrated on me, right?"

Dehydrated? I'm about the furthest from dehydrated I can imagine. My bladder's already been cramping for the past fifteen minutes, and since then it's only been getting worse – much worse. My back teeth are practically floating. I'm shifting in place, crossing my legs, trying to do anything to take my mind off my increasingly urgent need to use the bathroom. Yes, anything – even complying with Cheyenne's smirking instructions to gulp down a bit more.

"Oh, I almost forgot! I just heard the bartender say their bathroom's out of order tonight. Well, of all the darnedest luck!" She takes a swift little sip from her own glass, and I swear I can see a glint of quietly sadistic mirth in the corner of her eye. "Good thing we're both strong, full-grown adults who know how to control ourselves and hold our drinks, huh?"

"Uh-huhhnn…" I manage, trailing off into what some would consider a tiny moan. "I- uh, actually. Strange you mention that. I was kinda hoping to use the bathroom sometime soon…"

But of course she gives me nothing but innocent dismissiveness. "Aww, Tom, seriously? Well, let's see. It's too bad, but we can't very well leave our drinks here and leave. We paid a pretty good chunk for this pitcher, y'know? Just hold it and I'm sure we can find some place once we leave-"

Have you ever fought a battle with your body in the full, terrifying knowledge that you were doomed before you even began? You know – that allergy-fueled sneeze in the middle of a church service? That coughing fit during the slow movement of a symphony concert? That deadly fart that refuses to be kept in, not caring one whit that you're three hours into a transatlantic flight?

That's the situation I'm in tonight. I know damn well that my bladder doesn't have a chance against the inundation of drinks I've been sending its way. It's never been the strongest to begin with, anyway. But even though I know, deep in the pit of my sloshing gut, that I'm doomed to lose, I doggedly fight on through the rising tide of pain and urgency. Just a little longer! Surely I can hold on- Surely. I'm a grown man. I can do this-

Of course I can't.

But it's not the terrifying burst of warmth between my legs that I remember most about that night. It's not even the rivers of warm urine snaking down my legs, nor my mortified stumbling down from the bar-stool in search of a rock to crawl under.

It's the musical giggle of my gleeful girlfriend in my ear. The mock dismay and amusement in her voice. The "helpful" patting of her fingers on my darkening jeans, and her terrifyingly loud words of well-meaning consolation…

"Oh, Tommie, did you just…? Is that-? Goodness, what a mess! Oh, honey, now you're all wet! Why didn't you tell me you needed to use the big-boy potty? And here I thought you said you could hold it! Oh, babe, whatever am I going to do with you? Come on, let's go. It's okay, let's go…"

***

"Baby, come on – time to go! We're meeting Joel and Emily for Friday night drinks, remember?"

I blink through the haze of memories. And rise to my naked knees, aware once more of the now familiar weight between my smooth-shaven thighs. A soggy, waddle-inducing bulk, hanging heavily down, reminding me of my humiliating, infantile role…

My wife Cheyenne is calling, and I – like the good, dutiful baby husband I now am – will respond.

I waddle toward her office in obedience. The very movement causes my shrunken bladder to spurt and dribble, and I shiver involuntarily at the almost imperceptible sensation. Honestly, these days my wetting happens without me even noticing. It's only once I feel the weight of my wet, sagging diapers pulling my onesie tight that I really pay it much attention.

"There you are!" My beautiful Cheyenne is rising from her sleek leather chair, her large purse that doubles as my diaper bag resting on the desk's polished surface. She giggles and shakes her head as she gazes down at me, taking in my onesie-clad, stocking-footed form. "Oh, baby, I almost forgot! Guess we need to put some clothes on you before we go out, huh? Or then again… hmm, I dunno." She pauses and cocks her head meditatively. "Honestly, they both know you're nothing but a big baby, after all. I don't suppose it would surprise them that much…"

"No- no, please, mommy," I beg, and in my voice I hear the same submissive, pleading, gratefully groveling tone that filled it all those years ago. She may be my "mommy" now, and we may be married, but the love and kinky affection I have for her is just the same as when we were dating. "Please, can I… can I have big boy clothes and- and a change? I'm so soggy… such a soggy little boy…"

"A soggy little baby, you mean!" she laughs, and as she prods the thick bulge of my saturated Megamax I can see the glee in her eyes. "Oh, Tommie, you really think you deserve a change? And big boy clothes, too?" But even as she asks it, I see the idea entering her head. "I know! Here, I first need you to show me how badly you want it…"

My brow furrows, but before I can reply she's already pulling the large feeding bottle from her purse. "Here – drink up, babe. Once you're done – and only then – I'll change you. But we need to leave in ten minutes, hon – so best get drinking if you want that change!"

I do. And as I gulp and suckle, I gaze mutely up at her, shivering with delight and gratitude at the thought of how much we've changed over the years. Four short years ago, we were two young folks out on a date together, just beginning to explore their dynamic together. I knew I liked hot women humiliating me, and she knew that she loved making me blush – but that was all. Now here we are, mommy and baby, two confirmed kinksters living out their humiliating, indescribably fulfilling dreams.

Which makes me wonder… what will our lives be like four more years from now?

But that is neither here nor there, is it? Right now I need to drink!