The Chain of Life – Chapter Three
While he was in he lap, he lay on a rubber lappad that had been permanently bonded with outside layers of flannelette. He frequently peeded himself while he was curled up in her lap. He liked the warm, wet feeling as his body temperature urine was loosed in his diapers to run in rivulets down both the front of his pubes and the creases of his legs to pool cozily at the bottom of his absorbent diaper.
The thrice-daily feeding at Darla’s tits had reawakened Wes’s infantile needs for sucking full time. Darla had foreseen the change in his behavior and pinned an orthodontic pacifier to his infant T-shirt by the second day. He played with the baby toys and sucked on their edges with pleasure, forgetting his prior status in the world.
On Saturday afternoon, however, his world changed forever. His newly baby-sensitive ears sensed the crush of gravel beneath heavy wheels as someone crunched their way at high-speed up the gaveled driveway towards the triple-wide manufactured home. After a moment, Darla heard the sound and left little Wessley to suck on his pacifier in his crib.
Within moments, the floor of the house drummed to the entrance of a big, big man. Darla’s husband, Abner, was on leave from work on the off-shore drilling platform where he worked. He wrapped his arms around Darla and kissed her deeply with his tongue exploring her depths like a scuba diver looking for faults in the rigging of the platform. When Darla surfaced for air, she explained that they had a “little visitor” in the house. Abner chuckled briefly before he kissed his wife on the cheek and asked, “A neighbor’s child again! One of these days we’re going to have to get you a baby of your own. Sooner or later, you’re going to run out of other people’s babies to take care of!
She kissed him deeply and said, “You’re right, Honeybunch! This baby might end up as ours. This baby is unclaimed. The father ran off and the mother hasn’t been seen since his birth. He was given over to adoption to the Baptist Adoption Services. Why don’t we sit down and talk about it before we make a decision. Better yet, why don’t you have couple of beers and some pretzels while I make you a nice, rare, Porter House steak with sautéed mushrooms, baked potatoes, some spinach soufflé and a couple of whole wheat buñelos?
Abner patted her tight-hipped, jean-covered and silk-panty covered bottom, kissed her passionately and said, “You know what I like!” as he drifted off to the bar to make himself a double-strength Margarita.
After a half an hour, Abner was sufficiently the high on tequila feel utterly relaxed as Darla served his dinner. While he ate, she went back to the bathroom and ran a huge tub of bubble bath for him. When he finished dinner, he put away his plates and went back to the warm, fresh-water bubble bath that he knew would be waiting for him. Darla treated him much as she had treated Wes before, with the exception that she did not supply the oil treatment that she had given Wes. As a consequence, Abner did not rejuvenate the same way that Wes did, although her ministrations made him quite as horny. They went to bed together and made love, although it was interrupted by the thin cries of Wes from the nursery, demanding to be diaper changed and fed.
Darla reluctantly got out of bed and replied to infantile demands of her new boyfriend/infant. Once he had been changed, fed and had a pacifier placed between the lips of his mouth, Wes fell immediately asleep, as she expected as she rocked and fed him simultaneously. Once she was finished taking care of little Wes, Darla returned to the huge arms of her husband Abner, who made love to her the rest of the night.
The next morning, a blearily-eyed Darla forced herself out of bed to go to the kitchen. After preparing a small baby bottle full of apple juice, she padded to the nursery in her house slippers and gave Wes his morning bottle. She knew that after Wessey slaked his thirst with the juice, he would far back asleep almost immediately. She would return later that morning to change his diaper and feed him. In the meantime, Abner woke up ready for another round of lovemaking.
After Abner fell asleep again at nearly ten o’clock, Darla got up and lovingly changed little Wes’s dirty diaper, then breastfed him for his breakfast. She would give him some solid food at around noon, but before that breast milk was sufficient to take care of his nutritional needs.
At noon Abner awoke, scratched his hairy chest and woke Darla up with comment on how much he looked forward to eating breakfast at home with her when he was aboard the offshore rig. Darla understood the portent of his message and got out of bed to make him the traditional huge breakfast she served him on his first morning of his time off from the rig. First she began grinding the fresh Arabica coffee beans in her electric coffee grinder while she made home-squeezed orange juice from sweet Texas Navel oranges in her electric juicer as she toasted whole-wheat crumpets in her toaster oven. While they were being readied, she turned the oven to 375° Fahrenheit to preheat as she got out the butter and jar of Knot’s Berry Farm sweet orange marmalade (Abner had an odd predilection for crumpets and sweet orange marmalade that would have done an Englishman proud).
Darla cut off four tablespoons of butter (half a stick) and dropped it in a ceramic butter pitcher to warm in the microwave while the coffee was steeping. She set the microwave to two and one half minutes to melt the butter and heat the ceramic pitcher. Just before the timer on the toaster oven was done, she poured the freshly ground coffee into the filter on her Mr. Coffee and turned it on. She took a large baking sheet with a half-inch lip on all sides, sprayed it liberally with Pam, then began laying out an entire pound of H.E.B. Deli bacon, slice-by-slice on the greased pan.
Once that was done, she took two large teflon-coated skillets and poured a bit of peanut oil in one and put a couple of tablespoons of butter in the other. She got out a smaller lipped baking sheet and sprayed it with Pam before laying out a few thick slices of Deli honey ham alongside five half-inch thick slices of Jimmy Dean’s breakfast sausage in the pan. She prepared a half of grapefruit in a bowl with a special slicing tool to remove the fruit from the rind in perfect wedges, then dump it into a small breakfast salad bowl. Frankly, if her husband hadn’t been able to afford the grinders, toasters, slicers, juicers, and other kitchen amenities, it would have taken her hours to make such an extravagant five-star breakfast.
By that time the coffee was done and she made a breakfast tray with her best silver and a linen napkin, coffee (in a mug the way Abner liked it alongside a closed carafe filled with more coffee in case he wanted more), sugar, real dairy cream in a small porcelain cruet, a tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, a bowl of sectioned grapefruit, a container of sweet orange marmalade, the pre-heated butter decanter, as well as a plate of crumpets to whet Abner’s appetite for the real meal to follow. In a small, clear ground-glass stoppered cruet intended for oil, she decanted two and a half shots of Jack Daniel’s Black Label Whiskey that Abner could add to his coffee as wanted or needed. As a finishing touch, she placed the Sunday paper on the side of the tray with a small wide based vase with a single red rose. (The vase was affixed to the tray with an extremely tacky wax used by museums in areas subject to earthquakes.)
Men who work on oil rigs fourteen hours or more a day develop enormous appetites to give them the calories and protein they required to maintain the huge musculature that they needed for their work and Abner was no different. Besides, after he came home on the first night and they made love for hours, it had become a family tradition that she gorge him with food the next morning. The heavy meal made him sleep again and tempered his appetite for sex as well. It was an arrangement that pleased both of them.
After bringing the beginnings of breakfast in bed to Abner, Darla put both baking pans in the stove and turned on the heat underneath both skillets. While the skillets were heating, Darla broke a few eggs into the blender, added some condensed milk, a bit of sugar, some salt and poured in a small package of pecan pieces that she had bought at the store. Instead of the oil that the recipe called for, she substituted her secret ingredient into the mix that made her pecan pancakes so good; she added Walnut oil instead of simple corn or cannola oil. She measured out the whole wheat pancake mix into the blender, then covered it with the top before she started the motor. While the batter for the pancakes was mixing, she took the top from the grill between the burners on the stove and turned it on. She measured a cup of water into a bowl and added two cheese-flavored packages of Quaker Oats instant grits into the bowl before placing it in the microwave to heat. The skillet for the eggs with the butter was beginning to brown, so she turned down the heat and broke four eggs into the pan without rupturing the membrane surrounding the yolks, then she covered the pan to allow them to cook gently until the rest of breakfast was done. She scooped out a bit of butter-flavored Crisco to the other teflon skillet before turning off the blender. When the Crisco had melted, she took some frozen hashbrowns from a bag in the freezer and added them. Darla left them to cook over medium high heat while she took the grits out of the microwave and spooned in five heaping tablespoons shredded processed sharp cheddar cheese that she had purchased from the market to the fully cooked grits and mixed the combination. She covered the grits with a small plate set them aside while she decanted real Vermont Maple syrup into another clear cruet and warmed the full cruet in the microwave.
Darla had prepared her husband’s special mushroom accompaniment the week before and hand frozen them before his expected arrival. Mushroom accompaniment, i.e, duxelles; a highly reduced mixture of one-quarter pound of sweet butter, a pound of fresh white sliced mushrooms with shallots, pepper, salt and some finely crushed garlic the week before in a large black cast-iron skillet and had boiled/fried the mixture until all that remained was a half-cup of rendered blackened essence of mushrooms. Darla had stored the prepared Duxells in a tightly sealed tupperware container in the freezer until Abner came home on his time off.
Darla took the frozen essence of mushrooms out of the freezer and heated them in the microwave in a small white porcelain custard cup until they were heated. While the duxelles were warming, the bacon, sausage and ham was baking and the eggs were slowly cooking to perfection, to the sound of the sizzling hashbrowns in their skillet, she poured the pancake mixture into a professional pancake funnel and measured out six pancakes onto the grill between the burners.
Darla opened the oven and used tongs to turn the rapidly cooking bacon to the other side, then turned the sausages in the lower pan before returning them to the oven and closing the door. She checked the eggs and loosened them from the bottom of the pan, then replaced the lid as she reached over and added another quarter cup of cheddar cheese to the grits before stirring them up and returning them to the microwave. She turned the pancakes and took several pieces of disposable kitchen towels from the hanging circular rack to form an absorbent surface for the bacon, ham and sausage. When she checked the progress of breakfast, she discovered that the hashbrowns had browned on one side and were ready to be turned. eggs sunny-side-up were clouding over into perfection, the bacon had become very crisp (she removed the pan from the oven). She rolled the sausage back and forth, turned the pan-fried ham as well as the whole wheat pancakes with pecans.
Within minutes, everything was done almost simultaneously. She took the cooked pancakes and put them on a dish to keep warm as she lowered the temperature in the oven to 225°. The grits and duxelles went back to the microwave for a minute’s warming as the next six pancakes were poured out on the sizzling hot grill while the first six went on a plate in the oven to keep hot. She dumped the bacon/sausage/ham mixture into a special high-tech grease absorbing towel to degrease them and keep them warm while the balance of Abner’s enormous breakfast finished cooking. When she removed the lid to check the eggs, she saw that they were nearly perfect. She moved the eggs to a cold burner to allow them time to finish cooking with their residual heat without overcooking. She had just enough time to prepare the second tray while the eggs finished.
Darla set up a second overlarge British breakfast tray with heated Vermont Maple Syrup, a double rasher of bacon, six sausage pieces and a triplet of grilled ham slices on a plate with a fitted stainless steel cover to keep it warm, a small bowl with very cheesy grits with a similar cover, hashbrowns with a small custard cup full of blankened duxelles to mix with his eggs, another covered plate with six pecan, whole wheat pancakes. When she was finished loading the tray, she removed the lid from the skillet with the eggs and saw that they were perfectly done. Darla gently slid the eggs from the skillet to the plate with the hashbrowns and duxelles and replaced the cover over the plate. She had placed two more crumpets in the toaster oven, whose alarm rang just at the end of her efforts. She added a small pot of strawberry preserves, to give Abner some variety.
The night before, Darla begun preparing Abner’s dessert tray for breakfast in the morning. If he’d asked for steak in the morning, she’d have made a quick marinade of Rice Wine, green onions, ginger root, garlic, molasses, onion juice, cracked peppers and teriyaki sauce to marinade a small sirloin filet overnight that she’d pan-fry the next morning. If he wanted a steak, than she wouldn’t make the ham or sausages, making the breakfast the next day all that much easier to cook.
She had gotten out one of Abner’s favorite cigars and placed it in an aluminum pocket humidor before letting it sit out all night to allow it’s aroma and flavor to ripen to perfection. The hand-rolled, Macnudo Clayborn Café Jamaican cigar made from Cuban tobacco stock smuggled out during the Communist overthrow of the Batista regime lay cushioned on a linen napkin of it’s own in a special hermetically-sealed aluminum tube with a wood veneer lining to maintain proper moisture level and flavor. Darla stored two boxes of Abner’s cigars in a special wooden humidor that had it’s own humidifier and lid-mounted moisture meter on the bottom shelf of their refrigerator. She had also placed four more cigars in his leather pocket humidor in the event that he wanted to go out with the “boys” the next day as was his wont. She had topped off his cigar lighter with butane and laid it beside his other cigar accoutrements for use the next morning on the third tray. For the final touch, Darla placed a pair of chocolate-coated after dinner mints.
Laying majestically beside the cigar on the tray like a master surgeon’s instruments was an antique ivory mounted cigar end-cutter, a high-tech butane cigar lighter with a piezoelectric ignitor, a votive candle in a glass cup to warm his post-breakfast cigar, a gold-filigreed shot glass filled with Spanish Fundedor brandy in which to dip the sucking end of his cigar and an ashtray with a built-in smoke filter with a battery powered fan. The rest of the smoke would be handled by the bedroom’s triple set of positive ion generators
When she brought in the second tray, it was an immediate success. She switched over his newspaper, coffee carafe, mug, sugar, cruets of whiskey and cream to the second tray and removed the dirty napkin from the first tray and replaced it with a fresh one from the second. While Abner gorged himself, Darla took the first tray back into the kitchen and brought forth the third tray that she had prepared the night before. She clipped the end of his cigar, lit the candle and warmed it lovingly over the flame without burning and then soaked the non-burning end (the sucking end) in fine Spanish Fundedor Brandy for his pleasure as he ate.
Knowing Abner’s love for the music from Mary Poppins, she started the preloaded player at the song, “Feed the Birds”, which was one of Abner’s favorites. Within ten minutes, he had totaled the second tray and belched extravagantly in Kingly repletion. Darla removed the second tray and replaced it with the third tray she had prepared the night before. After she moved his newspaper, coffee carafe, mug, sugar, cruets of whiskey and cream from the second tray to the third, she lit his cigar and turned on the fan in the ashtray. Darla removed the second tray to the kitchen to sit quitely in the bedroom in case Abner needed anything. About three-quarters of the way through his cigar and Sunday paper, he yawned hugely both because of the Jack Daniel’s in his coffee as well as his skyrocketing blood sugar. When his eyes drooped, Darla took the cigar from his hand and put it in the ashtray on the end table next to his side of the bed. Abner was so sleepy that he never noticed. Nor did he notice that she had transferred his leather pocket humidor, cigar end-cutter, and his lighter to the end table next to him. Since the CD drive was set to replay the song until stopped, he fell asleep to the sweet tones of Mary Andrew’s song like a little boy in a nursery who had just finished a huge meal.
Darla removed the third tray and took it to the kitchen before eating her own breakfast/lunch alone at the counter. She ate the remaining pancakes with low-cal syrup along with a two pieces of bacon which she had saved from the double rasher of bacon and a no-fat glass of milk. She enjoyed babying Abner. Living on the rig meant she didn’t have to do his wash, nor cook for him, nor pick up after him except when he was home on his time off so she really didn’t mind catering to him on his first morning home. It made him feel like a King in his own home and allowed her to feel like a wife, without exhausting her by his daily demands.
He would often tell her of how he would boast about how his wife treated him after he came home from the rig. He would expound upon the royal treatment he got the next morning after he arrived; how she would fix a huge Epicurean breakfast for him with a crystal cruet filled with Jack Daniel’s finest Black label whiskey for his coffee and how she ground his coffee beans freshly just before she made the most perfect cup of coffee in the world. He would describe every dish in detail to his friends, causing them to hang their heads in jealousy at his good fortune. If he wanted steak with his eggs in the morning instead of ham, all he had to do was ask and she’d pan-fry in butter the most succulent, tender, marinated sirloin steak that they had ever tasted.
When he’d tell them that she’d sit quietly and wait while he ate and read his newspaper, most of the men who didn’t know him would accuse him of lying about his wife’s behavior. The other’s would assure the dissidents that the story wasn’t a lie and that Abner spoke the absolute truth. By the time that Abner finished describing how Darla would clip his cigar, warm it over a new candle, soak the end in fine brandy and light it for him to enjoy with his Daniels and coffee as if she was the obsequious maître d’ at a Five Star Restaurant, the dissenters where ready to cry. Their wives wouldn’t even let them smoke a cigar in the house, much less have as much as a solitary beer on Saturday with breakfast. Breakfast in bed was like some sort of fantasy that they might dream of if they won the Texas Lottery in a big way, but everyone of them knew that even if they became ultra-rich, they’d have to hire someone to serve them breakfast in bed. The men were in awe of Abner; his wife was everything that they had dreamed of before marriage and that they had never found in their own lives.
Darla knew that he was extraordinary pleased with her and loved her dearly. He would do nearly anything she asked for, and she rarely asked for anything but special cookware to make him his fantastic breakfasts when he came home from the rig, or else she wanted something for the nursery which she maintained to babysit her friend’s babies. Since Abner couldn’t provide her with babies, he didn’t deny her the chance to play at being a mother, any more than he would have refused her some kitchen tool so that she could make one of her fabulous homecoming breakfasts for him. The food on the rig was good plain cooking in abundance, but it bore no resemblance to the sort of breakfast that Darla lavished on his return every six weeks. Breakfast in bed with a newspaper, coffee made from fresh ground beans, laced with fresh cream, sugar and Jack Daniels was not exactly the sort of fare that one would expect on an oil rig. Moreover, being served breakfast in bed by a obsequious, nude, buxom, curvaceous, long-legged beautiful blonde with long yellow curly tresses that fell upon her shoulders luxuriantly on an oil rig, was shall we say, only a fond, masculine dream that caused men to change their wet underwear immediately when they woke up the next morning.
After Abner showered, he dressed in clean clothes and went off to meet with his male friends and partied late into the night with his favorite poker buddies. Darla resumed her normal activities with her new baby, breast-feeding him, changing his diapers and taking him to the mall to buy some souvenirs of his visit with her. She bought him several T-shirts, a sleeper and an O’Kosh short-legged overall with snaps on the bottom seam and an A&M logo on the bib. By this time, Wes had become so accustomed to the life of a baby that he squealed with delight at his school’s logo on his infant overalls. He peed in his diaper enthusiastically as Darla dressed him in his new finery in the dressing room and brought him out to see himself in the mirror. Wes cooed at his appearance and Darla bought the outfits immediately.
Three days later, Wes woke up in his nursery and wondered what had happened to him. From the calendar on the wall, he had lost a week of his life. Darla gave him his bottle of water as usual, changed his diapers and after a time, nursed him at her breasts. Wes identity began slipping, one moment he was Darla’s baby boy and the next he was a twenty-year-old Junior at A&M who had somehow been shanghaied into nursing Darla’s breasts like an infant. The worst part was that while his adult mind totally regected being an infant again, the pleasure of nursing at Darla’s breasts was so intense that it was addictive. He wailed in the night for the feel of her tit in his mouth so he could draw the warm, satisfying rich milk in her breasts into his waiting mouth and swallow it in an orgy of infantile pleasure. Once he had sated himself on her milk, he gave way to pleasuring himself with his own body and immediately peed and pooped his diaper.
At the end of the week, Abner bid his wife adieu and went back to the rig. Darla restored Wes to adulthood, bundled him in her truck and drove him back to College Station. Two miles before they reached his dorm, Wes’s face became confused for a minute as he messed himself. He looked down at the dark wettness around his loins and felt the slimy slipperiness that he had made in the back of his underwear. He realized instantly that he could never return to college as much as he loved being at A&M. The thought of being alone among thousands of other students frightened him terribly and he knew that if he showed up at his dorm with wet and dirty pants, they would never let him live it down. He needed a place to hide, to cower down from the effects of his own weaknesses, before they became known to the world. He was certain that he could no longer handle the responsibilities of classes, assignments as well as the daily duties of taking care of himself. The soft, cushy of the life of a baby Darla had allowed him to live for the past week had stripped him of his ability or desire to cope with student life. His trepidation and confusion became utter panic, causing his face to become lined with the stretch marks of the soundless horror of complete helplessness and inability to cope. Just as suddenly as his panic appeared, the lines of helpless terror faded as his mind retreated into a serene, non-threatening existance from which it would not be moved.
Wes deliberately put his thumb in his mouth and said, “Preees take me home, Mommy!”
“What?”, Darla said surprise at the sound of a toddler’s enunciation coming from a collegiate mouth.
“Me wet and poopy, Mommy. Preeese take me home! I need my dittie changed!”, he pleaded.
“Wes, you aren’t wearing ditties,” Darla corrected.
“Me know! Me make a mess! Me sorry!”, Wes pleaded.
The smell of a bowel movement rapidly filled the cabin of the truck as Darla glanced over to see that Wes had been right. He had wet himself! Could Wes be the one she had been waiting for?
“Preese Mommy, wanna go home NOW!”, Wes demanded.
Darla looked at Wes and asked, “Wes, Honey, if you go home with me now, you’ll become my little baby forever! Do you understand? There’ll be no college in your future! You won’t be able to go back to A&M!”
“Don care!”, Wes exclaimed resolutely with his thumb firmly planted in his mouth.
“Don’t you remember being in High School and dating girls from your class? If you go home with me now, you’ll never go to High School! You’ll spend the rest of your life in your crib wearing diapers! Is that what you want?”, Darla asked in fairness.
“Don care, wanna go home! Need ditties!”, Wes answered, moving around uncomfortably in his soiled underwear.
“This is your last chance! Are you sure that you want to be my baby? If you go home with me now, there will be no middle or grade school for you. You’ll never get old enough for Kindergarten or Nursery School! Is that what you want?”, Darla asked sincerely.
“Me hungry. Me want Mommy titty!”, Wes exclaimed.
“Mommy can give you all the titty you want, but if she does, the only school you’ll ever attend again will be a baby Daycare Center! Are you sure that’s what you want?”, Darla asked, hoping that he’d refuse adulthood so that she’d a baby of her own.
“Me hungry and wet, Mommy. Wanna go home,” Wes said sleepily as he began to slip into his midmorning nap while wetting his pants again.
Darla pulled off the road and watched as the dark stain on Wes’s jeans grew larger. She had finally found what she’d being searching for all her barren years. Wes truly wanted to be her baby. She turned the truck around and headed home. She needed to get little Wes’s clothes changed before he got a nasty case of diaper rash.
When Darla got home, she changed Wessie in every way possible and put his clothes and shoes in a lawn and leaf bag to go to Goodwill along with his empty wallet and belt in a white plastic bag as if they had come from a different source. She set up the baby seat in her truck and strapped Wessie in as she traveled the last few miles to bury all sources of his identity. When she came home, she breast fed him again and then cut up his Texas Driver’s License as well as his A&M ID card and copies of his former parent’s credit cards into very fine pieces. Darla put the pieces of plastic in a old glass Coke bottle and added some Xylene before corking it off to shake it vigorously. Within ten minutes, the pieces had dissolved into a semi-liquid paste that was pourable. She covered an old Sunday newspaper with the flammable mixture and set it ablase, destroying all evidence that Wesley, the student at A&M, had ever been there.
Six weeks later, Abner came home to find his wife with an adopted infant son. She explained that one of her sick friends had died without a husband or family to take care of her little baby boy named Wessie. Since Darla had cared for Wessie before, her friend had given her custody of her baby Wessie in her will. There was only one problem; the baby suffered from a rare disease which prevented him from maturing either psychologically or physiologically from infancy. Their adopted baby would be a baby forever!
Abner sighed in acceptance as he viewed his newly adopted eleven-month-old son who stood unsteadily on his two feet and maintained stability by holding on to a fold of Darla’s slacks as if he had just learned to walk and who was much more comfortable crawling on all fours. The baby boy had been decked out in an outfit that was sure to please an East Texas father; on his little head, he wore a tiny white Stetson with an Aggie “hook-em!” medallion in the middle of the front of the hat, while he wore an absolutely charming set of cowboy boots sized to fit an infant with the Aggie logo on the outside of his boots. Between the symbols of A&M, the baby boy wore nothing but a thick disposable diaper which drooped heavily under the weight of the baby pee it had collected in the two hours since his last diaper change.
Abner kissed his wife deeply before picking up his new son and hugging him tightly to show that he loved the baby that the Lord had bestowed on his family. Little Wessie chuckled in delight at being hugged by his new father and they all went inside the house to begin life as a family. Strangely, after meeting his adopted father for the first time, little Wessie never attempted to stand again. It was enough for him that he had met his new father on his own two feet, no matter how unsteady they were. Afterwards, he preferred to crawl on all fours. He would never be a man, much less a toddler, so there was no reason to exert himself. Darla never stepped out on her husband again, because the chain of her life had had the missing link filled with the baby she had always needed.
Within a month, Wessie forgot that he had ever been anything but Darla’s baby. He led the serene, comfortable life of an infant with a doting mother who loved changing his diapers, bathing, dressing, feeding, and nursing him. Most of all, she enjoyed breast feeding him, which stimulated her so strongly that she didn’t miss Abner’s infrequent gentle, but clumsy sexual ministrations. Her “little Aggie” gave her orgasms three times a day at minimum when he nursed at her breasts. As for Wessie, he had entered an eternal paradise of maternal love and soft physical comfort from which there was neither escape, nor desire to vacate.
The three links of their separate lives had forged together by Karma into an unbroken circle of a Kismetic chain. It should only be expected that all of them lived happily ever after. Which of course, they did.
The End of The Chain of Life – Chapter Three.
The story originally came from: https://littleab.com/story.html
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index