A Temporary Solution - Chapter Seven (Commission)

Thanks once again to our legendary Gold-Tier patron Devin for commissioning this one!

Bath time is amazing.

It's times like this that I can let my mind float and wander, my worries and cares bobbing gently away amid the suds and the lapping water. Baths are safe places – comforting places – places that for all my life have been associated with play and freedom and security. And I suppose it's only natural, then, that I find it almost impossible not to slip into Little space during a really lovely bath...

Especially when Daddy Scott's strong hands are bathing my limbs and his deep voice reverberates through the tiled echo chamber that is our bath.

Strange, isn't it? I muse as the washcloth strokes methodically up and down my naked legs. My life has become such a strange patchwork of the adult and the infantile. I'm lying here, delighting in the sensations of being bathed like a literal baby by my doting Daddy. I have only to glance over at the fresh diaper and my chastity cage lying on the toilet to be reminded of the fact that even once I'm out, I'll be caged and wrapped back up in padding like the sexless little baby my Daddy wants me to be. And yet... he and I both know that the reason for my bath is a very adult one: to look immaculately neat and professional in my job interview today.

Yep, that's right! I've got a job interview – at last!

Oh, no, I don't want to think about that just yet. I want to think of less scary things. Things that make me all blushy and subby and excited. Things like- like that time last week when Daddy got me Mister Redpaws.

I can still see it so vividly in my mind's eye, still feel the squelch and soggy mush of my sagging diaper as I lay there, delirious with post-orgasmic bliss, looking up unsuspectingly into the lens of Daddy's phone camera. Oh, that was quite the surprise, I can't deny. And yet, Scott was good enough to allay my worries almost immediately – for which I remain incredibly grateful.

"Devie-boy, it's okay," he'd told me as he finished cleaning up my very smelly diaper less than half an hour later. "I promise, buddy. The video belongs to you and to me both, okay? No one else on the planet is going to see it without your permission, I swear." I'd nodded as he pulled me upright in my fresh diaper, and I'd buried my face in his shoulder, overcome with a sudden rush of subby emotion and gratitude. Daddy was listening. He cared about me and my fears and my consent. He was doing it right.

"My, my, someone seems to like their bath time!" Daddy's voice is teasing now, and as I flounder back to reality I realize suddenly that my little dick, floating free now amid the suds, is becoming very visibly happy indeed. "Sorry, Daddy," I mutter, blushing. "I- I was just thinking-"

"About what, I wonder?" he queries, even as the washcloth descends into the folds around my thighs. "Um, about- about the video you took of me- And of how you said you- you really get off when you watch it-" He's grinning down at me, apparently unabashed at the mention of his own sexuality. "Well, of course! You're a beautiful, sexy little diaper boy! How on earth am I supposed to not get excited when I watch videos of you having so much fun? Especially when I get to see you making cummies after filling up that pretty diaper of yours? I mean, who doesn't love to see a baby boy so in love with filling his pants, hmm?"

His voice drops from this bantering into a more conversational and adult tone. "Devie, baby. I know we don't have too much time now, but I was wondering... Would you be okay with me taking a few pics of you in your bath right now? Before we're done?" I wriggle amid the suds, both surprised and inwardly pleased at the request. "Umm... okay. But Daddy... not my face, okay? Or we'll blur it out?"

You see, I find myself thinking more and more about this idea of starting a social media account – a Tumblr or Instagram or something – for documenting our life together. Truth be told, I want memories. I want to remember this somehow. I want something real I can hold onto when this temporary solution finally winds down.

Yeah, maybe I'm getting too far ahead of myself. After all, there's no guarantee that this interview will go well. But until then, I'll happily revel in my bath as Daddy smiles down at me from behind the camera...

***

Daddy Scott's voice is rumbling gently in my memory as I step off the subway and make my way, along with a horde of my fellow passengers, up the filthy concrete steps to the light and heat of the street above. "You've been wetting pretty often these days, Devie. I really don't think an important interview is the time or place for an accident, do you?" And then he chuckles in that incomparable way of his. "Oh, wait. Why am I even asking you, buddy? I'm the one in charge here, after all. And as your Daddy, I'm the one deciding that you're going to head to this interview nice and safe and discreetly padded. Just like a good little boy should."

God, he knows how to push my buttons, doesn't he? Though surely I can't be becoming dependent on them... surely...

But I have to admit that he's right about it being inconspicuous. This dry  – okay, mostly dry – PeekABU, tucked skillfully underneath a pair of Spandex shorts, is indeed discreet. No one on the planet, except maybe Daddy Scott himself, would be able to tell that this be-suited and be-tied young man is in fact diapered as securely and comfortably as a sweet little toddler. And maybe, just maybe, coming to need them just as much, too...

Enough of that. I need to be an adult and focus on this interview. Let's see... Confident smile? Check. Affirmative responses at the ready? Check. Greatest weakness? Oh, hell, everyone knows that's a stupid interview question! I'll come up with something on the fly...

And then the door is opening, and I'm stepping into the sterile atmosphere inside, and walking confidently toward that reception desk. Watch me, Daddy. I can do this.

***

In what seems like a blink of an eye, it's over.

Now, I've never been super confident in my own abilities. I was that guy in high school who was always 100% sure he'd flunked the test, only to be surprised time after time – much to the annoyance of his peers – with how well he'd actually done. So it's all the more strange that now I find myself walking out, head held high, mind humming with all the fast-paced adult energy of our conversations... and more confident than I've felt in a very long time.

I nailed that interview. I crushed it. That marketing guy was a little cheesy, sure, but those other folks were nice – especially that lady in HR. And wow, when I was able to pivot and bring in that other  project management experience I'd almost forgotten about...

"It must have been the diaper," Daddy Scott grins to me as I finally take a breath from blurting out my story that evening. "No, really, I mean it! First padded interview in your life, and it sounds like you smashed it out of the park. Coincidence, baby? I think not."

I shrug, grinning self-consciously as I think once more of how incongruous it all seems. Going out, adulting the hell out of the day... and then waddling home to Daddy like a good little boy should. Yep, that pretty much summed me up.

Speaking of which...

"Daddy, I've decided," I finally declare, setting down my fork with sudden resolve. "I want to make that Tumblr account – you know, to start posting pictures like we talked about. See, I- I want to remember our play times... Remember how much fun we have together..."

The smile on Daddy Scott's face is... well, it's basically the icing on the cake of this awesome day.