A Weekend at Sir's - Part Two (Patreon Exclusive)

Apologies for this being late. I got caught up in work last month and simply forgot that I hadn't written this yet, and that I was supposed to have it up. I'll try to ensure this doesn't happen again!

I had no way to determine the passage of time.

It could have been five minutes that Sam was gone, or thirty. I tried counting seconds in my head, but lost track of my place. There was no stimulation to help me go by, no ticking clock or music playing.

I stood, legs spread wide, fingers laced behind my head, staring at the corner of what would be my room for the weekend. My diaper was on full display, and I was burning with curiosity to see what my collar looked like, but I obeyed. I didn’t move.

My feet were beginning to fall asleep by the time I heard movement behind me. It sounded like he was dragging something on wheels–an office chair, maybe? Sam entered the room and I heard the door shut.

“It’s time you learned a new position,” Sam said. “Relax.”

I hesitated, then lowered my arms and moved my feet, shaking the sensation back into them. Turning around, I looked down, trying to get a view of my collar, but it was snugly around my neck, hidden beneath my chin, and I couldn’t tell what it looked like.

“When I say, ‘Present’,” Sam began, “You will sit with your knees spread, with your hands resting on your legs and your mouth open.”

“Yes sir.” I glanced down, eyes brushing over Sam’s jeans. The description of that position seemed to have an obvious implication–he’d be using my mouth for his pleasure–and I felt a surge of desire. I wanted him to use me, and fought the urge to giggle in excitement.

“Present,” Sam said, and I immediately obeyed, dropping to my knees.

I spread them wide, so that the front of my diaper was visible and accessible, and placed my hands on my legs, mouth open, ready to satisfy him.

My expectation, that Sam would reach down to unzip his jeans, wasn’t met. Instead, he stepped forward and knelt, using his hands to adjust my posture. He straightened my back, pushed my knees even further apart, then reached up and took my chin in his hand, pulling my mouth a touch wider.

“Good,” he said. “That’s what I want to see, every time. I shouldn’t need to correct you again.”

I started to nod, and he pushed my head back into place.

“No.”

Gulp.

Sam stood, stepping out of my room for a moment. He returned dragging a metal stand on a set of casters, a device that reminded me of an IV drip from a hospital, but there were two bags, each with its own hose, one full of something green and thick, the other something clear.

My impulse was to ask what it was for, but I remembered myself and kept my mouth hanging open, available for his use.

Reaching for his back pocket, Sam took out a leather strap–a collar–no, a gag–and crouched to pull it around my open mouth. Rather than a simple ball, the gag portion held my mouth open, sealed around my lips, with a hole…

Just the right size for the tube…

I realized, then, that this was probably dinner.

Sam smirked at me as he saw the recognition in my eyes and reached up for the tube, sliding it in between the gag in my mouth. Leaning in, he whispered, “If you take this out, and you don’t use your safe word, I will destroy you.”

I couldn’t even nod, but I looked him in the eye and hoped he understood I wasn’t trying to be defiant.

“One more thing,” he said, stepping to the second bag, the one full of clear water. That hose had a different nozzle, and he pulled it all the way around my body, behind me, crouching, reaching down–

I squeaked as I felt his hand inside my diaper, felt the nozzle press against my bottom, felt it slide inside me.

Fuck me, I thought, as the second hose was left in place, so that I could be filled up from both ends.

Sam stood, walked around in front of me, raised his hands to the nozzles on each bag, and turned them both to release the flow. I had a second of horrified anticipation as I saw the fluids in each fill up the tube, rushing down towards me, and then they both hit.

The taste of the mush in my mouth wasn’t horrific, but it wasn’t pleasant either. Chalky, slightly earthy baby food, it made me wonder what he’d made it out of–whether he’d loaded up this meal with laxatives or diuretics or maybe even muscle relaxers to leave me totally helpless. It filled my mouth quickly, and I had to swallow fast, timing my breaths and swallows so that it didn’t overwhelm me. Even doing my best, my cheeks filled up, and a little of the sludge began to leak out of my mouth, down my chin.

Below, I felt warm water begin to pour into me, the heat close enough to my body temperature that for the moment I could only sense it as a subtle pressure and motion deep in my body.

Sam watched me and did nothing to help, His face was stone, solid, eyeing my desperate, helpless form as I tried to keep up with the torrent of mushy green goo coursing over my tongue, the water rushing in from behind.

I could see the bags up above me, how they were still over halfway full. Surely he’d turn off the flow before they were empty, I couldn’t be expected to take them both fully, right? Right?

I kept swallowing, as quick as I could, the gooey slop filling up my mouth as fast as I could get rid of it. More was dribbling down my chin now, onto my chest, making a mess of me. Below, I could feel the fullness build to uncomfortable pressure, swelling with water that my body just didn’t have room for.

Watching the level on the bag, feeling my tummy grow full from both ends, I tried to do the math. It just wouldn’t fit–he had to stop the tide soon, right?

Finally, Sam moved forward, but instead of turning off the supply of baby food pouring into my cheeks, he knelt to whisper to me. “You can take it all,” he said. “Don’t disappoint me.”

I swallowed, again and again, whimpering when I exhaled. Even if I had the room, the food just came so quickly, I thought I might choke, I might run out of air, but I wanted to do as I was told, to–

Reaching back, Sam pinched the line between his thumb and forefinger. It didn’t stop the tide of water flowing into my ass, but it allowed me to catch up and breathe. Swallowing, I emptied my mouth and took a few deep breaths. My belly had begun to stretch and ache, I felt desperately full, like any more food would be a mistake, but the bag of baby food was only two thirds empty and the water still flowed freely.

I looked up at Sam and shut my eyes in the closest analog to a nod that I could make. He released the line, and the tide resumed.

I took it all. Plenty poured down my chin and onto my body, even trickling down to spill onto the front of my diaper, but the rest went down my throat, and my bowels were saturated with every drop of water that he could put in me.

Finally, mercifully, he shut off the flow from both bags. “Relax.”

I melted into a heap, legs splaying out as I let my body movie and my jaw go slack. Sam walked around me to undo the gag and let me fall back onto the floor, then reached down. “You are not allowed to use your diaper in this case, I expect you to hold it.”

He slipped the hose from my bottom and let me go. My overfull belly gurgled uncomfortably. I felt glad to have a momentary reprieve, a chance to catch my breath, a–

“Inspect, facing the wall,” Sam demanded.

A little part of me wanted to lie on the floor and suffer my fate, but I knew that’d be worse than obeying. I stood, laced my fingers, adopted the most obedient and perfect pose my body would allow. I felt exhausted, even though I hadn’t done anything except stand and sit and swallow, but as I heard Sam move I knew I wouldn’t be given any rest yet.

He stepped up behind me, placing a hand on the back of my diaper. “I don’t want you to get sick on me,” he said. “So I’m going to let you take a little break in time out. I’ll be watching to see how long you can hold it, though–you’d better impress if you want a diaper change before bedtime.”

I squirmed, though only a little–I still had to keep my position, even as my body protested this injustice. My whole body felt weighed down, waterlogged from the bottom and overfed from the top, everything that’d been pumped into me conspiring to create discomfort.

Behind me, noises indicated that Sam was doing something–rolling away the stand with the enema and feeding bags, perhaps–but I didn’t dare relax just because he wasn’t in the room with me. I didn’t know if he had cameras or some other way to watch, but I knew he might have cameras, and that scared me into obedience.

Every part of me seemed to gurgle, and the pressure deep inside my bowels grew. I had no way of guessing how much water he’d used–it felt like a few gallons, though realistically I knew it couldn’t possibly be that much. But the pressure kept building, and building, and demanding more of my focus to try to keep it all in while I stood against the wall.

Finally, my body gave in. It couldn’t handle the pressure of a too-full belly and the water weighing down my bowels, and even though I squirmed and squeezed and tried, the inevitable happened.

Water spilled out of me, and as soon as the flood gates were open, my ability to hold it collapsed. I nearly fell, only barely keeping my balance as the contents of the enema sloshed into my diaper, followed quickly by mucky solids that pushed out the diaper, staining the seat a deep brown.

It all spilled out of me so fast that my bunny hop diapers couldn’t hold up. Though they tried, and absorbed an impressive amount, the flood was too quick and a little dirty water spilled down the side of my legs, joining with the food on my chin and body to cement my self image as a total mess, all the while I continued packing my diaper full of foul-smelling muck.

That was the part I hated. The feeling of mush inside my diapers was something I could tolerate, even enjoy, but the smell was nothing of not unpleasant. I wrinkled my nose and made a face, already surrounded by my own fumes, my own stink, knowing there was only room to get worse. I wanted to cover my nose, but I stayed good, obedient, and only took shallow breaths.

Eventually I felt empty, utterly and completely cleaned out from the inside. My diaper sagged, the back waistband hanging on with a prayer and a wish, the leg gathers only sort-of keeping everything contained. Any hope of holding back the smell was long gone.

And my belly was still uncomfortably full. Even after all that, I hadn’t freed myself of the discomfort, I’d only relieved it from one end.

I hadn’t heard Sam walk up behind me, I only heard, “Present, facing me.”

My legs all but buckled, glad to have permission to sit–sort of–and I fell onto my knees, turning to face him. Sitting on my knees meant I wasn’t putting all my weight into my mess, at least, though the impressive weight sagging around me still had me constantly aware of my diaper.

I opened my mouth, staring up at him. His jeans were gone, and his boxers, and his rock-hard erection stared back down at me.

I hoped that licking my lips wasn’t against the rules.

Stepping up to me, his cock inches from my face, Sam purred, “Look at you–you can’t eat without making a mess, you can’t keep your diaper clean–let’s see if there’s anything you’re good for.”

Grabbing my hair, he pulled my open, gaping mouth onto his cock.

Fuck. Me.

I moaned as he granted my wish, taking full advantage of my helpless, exposed state. I was little more than a hole for him to fuck, sitting on the floor, a filthy, smelly mess, taking everything he gave me.

Groaning in satisfaction, I savored the taste of him inside me, the feeling of being degraded and used, the helpless rush of endorphins. I didn’t care that I stank, that I was horny and deprived and a little disgusting, that I’d ruined my diaper and had no idea when I’d be clean again, I just wanted to be Sam’s useful little toy.

He didn’t go easy on me, but he didn’t drag it out either. If it’d been an ordeal, my swollen belly might have protested. After pulling me back and forth onto his cock for a few minutes, he shuddered, hot cum spraying down my throat, sending waves of neediness down me.

Pulling back, Sam let a little cum trickle down him, onto my lips and chin, the final layer of sticky, messy everything that’d become me.

“Good,” he praised.

Used up, finished, done, I melted back into a puddle on the floor. I sank down, shifting my legs so I wasn’t on my knees, licking my lips, sinking my weight into the puddle of mush that’d collected in my diaper. I–

“I didn’t say to relax,” Sam said.

My eyes widened, as I realized I’d broken my pose.

“And here I was thinking you’d learned a little obedience,” he said, circling around me, a predatory smile flickering across his face. “I guess it’s time you learned what real punishment feels like.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh no.