A Temporary Solution - Ch. 02 (Commission)

The early evening sun was still warm on my shoulders as I stepped out of the bar and began my trek homeward. Sure, I could have taken the bus. Maybe even an Uber. But it was a lovely Saturday evening, and it would have been a pity to let to go to waste...

Eh, who was I kidding? I knew the real reason I didn't want to take that seat on the bus or slide into the upholstered interior of some rideshare driver's car. It had nothing to do with the state of the weather, but everything to do with the state of my increasingly heavy undergarment.

I flushed slightly as a young couple, hand in hand, slipped awkwardly past me on the sidewalk, even as I felt another spurt of urine flooding out into the swollen bulk already bulging wetly within my jeans. Jeez, I'd lost track of time in there—but my beer-soaked bladder certainly hadn't. At this point, if I sat down heavily anywhere I was far more likely than not to leave a damp little calling card: the imprint of my soggy ass, made humiliatingly visible for all to see. And more worrisome still, I was already feeling a grumbling pressure growing deep within me: a pressure that past experience had taught me would only end in a very explosive and smelly way...

Hence the walk.

It was only half an hour away by foot. No problem for a fit young guy like me, even if he did have a peculiar waddle to his gait and a grumble in his gut. At least I could just walk, distracting myself from my cramps by musing in silence on all that Trevor and I had—and hadn't—discussed about my new living situation...

***

Moving in with someone else is kind of a big deal, I'd found. No sooner do you let the cat out of the bag than folks start trying to hook you up with your new roommate. They begin parsing your every word and action for confirmation that your change in living arrangements really is due to some unconfessed romantic attraction. No, mom, I had sighed over and over. No, dad. No, well-meaning acquaintances. We're just friends, honestly. Scott's a cool dude, and it's only temporary anyway. Jeez, just chill your buns already!

Then at some point they finally shut up - or at least, they resort to knowing winks, offhand comments, and sweetly innocent questions about how your new roommate is doing. And you mechanically trot out the same harmless, socially expected answers. Yes, he's fine. Yes, yes, very busy. Sure, we're doing great.

While all the while, irresistible visions of the night before are pulsing through your brain, the very memory of his strong hands on your bare ass and the fatherly rumble of his voice overwhelming you with endorphins, tugging you irresistibly downward into the mingled relief and shame and wordless gratitude of little space...

Scott took on the daddy role from the very day I moved in. He was the one who decided how my room should be arranged. He was the one who organized and stacked my clothes, making it very clear to me that my sartorial choices were no longer my own. He would be the one to dress me, just as we'd agreed. He would ensure that the stacks of diapers in my dresser drawer were always ready and waiting for his little boy. He would decide when—and if—little Devie even came close to earning rights to use the big boy potty...

And of course, just as I'd requested, he would also keep my little dick neatly caged and locked away whenever I was in diapers.

Which ended up being far more often than I'd first imagined. Oh, naturally I'd loved the idea of being his caged little diaper boy. That sort of submissiveness and humiliation was precisely what I craved in life—and what was more, it made sense to me. Real, biological little boys weren't supposed to be interested in their little willies, let alone know what they were for. Far better, and so much more authentic, to keep me and my libido locked away—needy, restrained, and completely under Daddy Scott's control.

But the first few days had gone by, and I'd been diapered 24/7. I'd ended up soiling myself before finally getting up the courage to ask, sniffling, whether I wouldn't be allowed to use the big boy potty sometime. "Oh, perhaps," was all Scott would tell me, even as he wrapped another bulky diaper around my freshly powdered ass. "But I really don't think it's time for that. And besides..." His voice had dropped into that deep, no-nonsense register that set my Little heart aflutter. "Those are the rules, Devie baby. You know that. I make the decisions... and that is that."

Oh, my. Sure, I'd envisioned a day or two when Scott might make me wear a diaper even when I didn't feel like it. But this...? Well, it was a bit more than I'd bargained for. But I couldn't very well back out, not when I'd agreed to it. I couldn't very well undo the triple layers of multi-colored duct tape—blue with colorful monkeys that tickled the very core of my Little heart—which he now used to bind every new diaper securely around my waist. And of course, I hadn't the slightest clue where to find the key to the cage that, ever since I'd moved in, had been holding my most intimate part of my anatomy prisoner...

Yes, Daddy's little diapered prisoner. That was my new life.

***

"Hi, I'm back," I called, closing the heavy front door behind me with a soft thud. Ugh, there was another cramp, the worst yet. Ow, ow, ow- I felt the rising pressure mount in my bowels, then escape into a muffled, squeaky fart. It wouldn't be long now. But maybe, just maybe, Scott would relent this time. Surely he'd help me out, what with being so soggy too...

"Hey, Devie." And there he was, tall and handsome and imposing as ever - not to mention shirtless. "I'm just headed out, baby. How did the meeting go with, uh, with-" "Trevor," I supplied. "Yeah, it went fine. Fine. But I was wondering, Daddy..." He seemed to like it when I called him that. "I'm, um, I'm very wet, and I-"

"What, you need a change? I thought I just changed you this morning!" I couldn't tell if he was joking or not as he turned and headed back the hall to our shared bathroom. "Well, yes," I admitted sheepishly, waddling anxiously after him. "But it's been a long time, you know. And I had a few beers, and I don't want to leak..."

"Oh, you think you're going to leak, do you?" He was buttoning his shirt on now, clearly anxious to be off. "Sorry, Devie, but I really needed to leave for this date like ten minutes ago." He ran his fingers through his sandy hair and looked me over quickly. "Hmm. Nothing that a fresh diaper can't fix, right?"

Hope blossomed within me as he strode into my bedroom and took a fresh diaper from my top dresser drawer. "But I also-" I grimaced as a fresh cramp seized me. "I also really need to go... the other way, you know..." "Oh, really? Now, of all times?" Scott was clearly annoyed now. "Look, Devin, I really need to leave! I'm late for this date already, and honestly, I don't have time for your shit..."

Uh-oh. I lowered my jeans, baring the sodden bulk between my legs, then watched nervously as he unfolded the MegaMax and spread it on the bed. "But I was hoping to use the big boy-" "Up here, now." Stung by his no-nonsense tone, I scrambled to obey. But oh, the surprise he had in store for me!

For there was no tearing of duct tape, no harsh ripping sound of tapes. Only a series of sudden jabs, then the rustle of a fresh diaper being pulled hastily around me, tightening down over the already swollen—and now perforated—padding between my thighs.

"There! Double diapers should tide you over until I get back."

And with that, Daddy was out the door, leaving a stunned, soggy, and still-cramping young man staring dismally after him.