Listen, you sniveling waste of space. You come crawling here looking for Mommy to treat you like the brat you are, so don’t act surprised when I shove that enema nozzle up your gaping hole. No warm-up, no gentle words—just cold rubber forcing its way inside your tight little ass. I turn the water on high, filling your guts with hot, soapy liquid until you’re cramping and whimpering like a kicked puppy.
“Shut up, you pathetic fuck,” I hiss, watching your belly swell. “You’re gonna hold every drop until I say so. If you leak, I’ll fill you again, and again, until you’re nothing but a sloshing incubator for my water.”
Your eyes are wet with tears. Good. You deserve this.
Once you’re bloated and trembling, I slide that thick, crinkly diaper between your legs—double tapes, leak guards, the works. I pull it up snug against your groin, taping it tight so you feel the padding pressing against your trapped little cock. “Now you wait, baby. You wait until I allow you to let go and fill this diaper with hot, liquid shit. And when you do, you’ll sit in that mess for an hour while I watch TV. You’ll feel the warmth spread, the stink filling the room, and you’ll remember your place.”
You’re nothing…dirty, helpless. My filthy little one. Now be a good boy and mess yourself for Mommy.
Blanche
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