His First Shopping Trip

(All Characters Are 18+)

 

         Newlywed life was bewildering for Noah. He’d only met his wives twice before the wedding, and one of those was when he was told he was marrying Rachel and Diane. After that, it all happened so fast. His stepmom and fiances agreed on a dowry, not that Noah knew anything about that, and two weeks later he was married. He went home with his stepmom that afternoon and stayed there for two more weeks while his wives honeymooned, all the while his stepmother explaining to him that he belonged to them now, and that while he had to obey all women, he had to obey them first. They made the decisions for him now, and that intimidated the twenty-six-year-old, who had only ever belonged to his stepmom, as if moving away from her wasn’t intimidating enough already.

         Two days after they returned from their trip, the forty-year-old Rachel and thirty-six-year-old Diane picked Noah up and took him to his new home. He was quiet, but he was gratified to see that at least so far, his impression has been correct. They were nice. They even took him shopping the next day so he could pick out some things for his room. He picked out his own bedding and some new clothes, and after the next stop they were going to take him to the toy store. 

         But first, a store he’d never been to before. His wives didn’t tell him what store it was, but that didn’t bother him. Noah was used to going shopping with women – his stepmom, his aunts, his mansitters – and it was usually boring but he'd learned to tolerate it, especially with the promise of a toy at the end if he behaved himself. He was already zoned out as they pulled into the parking space in front of the small store, not noticing the look that passed between Diane and Rachel.

         A bell rang when they entered, and from the back they heard a man crying and a sharp smack followed by another and another. “Someone’s getting a spanking,” Noah said and absentmindedly reached back to rub his bottom through his diaper.

         “It sure sounds like it,” Rachel said cheerfully, as if proud of how clever he was to recognize the sound. She was just patronizing him, of course, the sound of men crying and butts being spanked recognizable to anyone and so common it was hardly worth remarking on.

         “You don’t need many spankings,” Diane said, “because you’re a good man, right?”

         “Mhmm,” he said, proud that even during his naughty streaks he only needed about one spanking a week, not like some of the men at daycare who could hardly go a day without ending up bare bottomed over someone’s knee. “If you’re good while we’re here, you’ll get to pick an extra toy,” she said, though he planned to be good regardless.

         “Hello,” a woman in a pair of blue doctor’s scrubs said as she approached them with her hand outstretched, “are you Diane and Rachel,” she asked.

         “We are.”

         “I’m Susan. We spoke on the phone. This must be Noah.” She appeared older than she sounded, nearing sixty, fit, and with a mane of thick, silver hair tied in a ponytail.

         “Say hello,” Diane prompted him.

         “Hello, Miss.” Noah was instantly nervous seeing her in the scrubs. Was she a doctor? Was he going to get a shot? Or worse, was she a dentist?

         “Hello,” Susan said kindly but without much conviction, turning back to Diane and Rachel. “Right this way.”

         They followed, with Diane bringing up the rear and noting Noah’s short steps. “What’s wrong, hubby?”

         “Um, is this, uh, is this the doctor?”

         “No,” she said and took his hand. “She isn’t a doctor. It’s okay. We’ll be done real soon, and then we can go to the toy store. Just be a good man like you know how to be.”

         Susan overheard his question. A lot of the men asked it. She knew it was the scrubs that did it, making the men uncomfortable, but they were designed to make the women feel comfortable, and that’s who mattered. She led them into a room with a padded table. Noah didn’t want to believe his new wife had lied to him, but the table was just like the one at the doctor. It even had the paper on it, and a set of stirrups, but changing tables had those, too. He was used to those. “Could you get him down to his diaper for me,” Susan asked.

         “Shirt too?”

         “Yes, please.”

         Noah began to shake as Rachel undressed him. He was used to women undressing him, or at least a few women in particular – his stepmom, his grandma, his aunts, his daycare teachers, his mansitters – but since moving in with his wives, only Diane had undressed him, and only a couple of times. These new women who he barely knew, for some reason he couldn’t articulate, made him feel nervous and embarrassed when they saw him nude, like it wasn’t right that they could see him naked but he couldn’t see them naked. He'd hear a rumor from one of the other men at daycare that husbands used to see their wives all the time; he wasn't sure he believed him, but he wasn't sure he didn't believe him either.

        Noah He kept his hands at his sides and started to shake, scared of doctors and dentists and even more scared that they wouldn’t tell him she was a doctor. Then he saw the tray on the counter, covered with a blue drape, and his mind raced with what might be underneath it.

         “Honey,” Diane said. “Honey,” she said again, turning his face toward hers gently, “it’s okay. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you here, okay?”

         “Am I getting a shot,” he asked.

         “No,” Susan said as she finished getting something pulled up on her tablet. “I’m not a doctor or nurse.” To Diane, she asked, “Is he clean?”

         Diane reached around and felt his butt. “Clean but wet.”

         “That’s fine. Could you get him on the table please and untape his diaper, but leave it folded over him?”

         Diane chuckled. “We’re newlyweds, but we already learned that trick. Our hubby here got me right in the chest yesterday during his very first diaper change from me.” 

         “So smart to be doing this right away,” Susan said. “I tell newlyweds to do this, and so many of them want to wait and see. I always say, ‘Wait and see if he doesn’t need one, not if he does.’” 

         When he was situated the way she'd asked, Susan turned on the kind, patronizing voice she used with men, telling Noah, “We’re just going to measure you for something. It won’t hurt at all, I promise. Will you be a good man and hold still?” Noah nodded, intimidated. “Because if you don’t hold still,” Susan continued, “we’ll have to restrain you, and if you fight us, you’re going to get a big spanking from all three of us.” She issued the threat cheerfully, like she was promising him a lollipop if he didn’t behave.

         “I don’t think we’ll need the restraints,” Rachel said. “I’ll hold his hand.” To her husband she asked, “You want your binky?”

         “I don’t use a binky,” he said, momentarily feeling proud of himself before this stranger pulled down the front of his diaper.

         “You two married the prince of potty pants,” Susan said as she felt how heavy his diaper was. “Okay, let’s get started.” 

         Susan sat down on a rolling stool and drew back the drape to reveal a measuring tape inside a plastic bag. She tore it open and withdrew the short measuring tape before pausing to put on a pair of nitrile gloves. “His penis is pretty small,” she remarked as she rolled over on the stool.

         “I told you,” Diane said to her wife, eliciting a chuckle from Susan and a deepening shade of red as Noah’s humiliation grew.

         “Well, it looks bigger than most I’ve seen,” Rachel replied.

         “Trust me,” Susan said as her gloved fingers manipulated Noah’s excuse for what was once called manhood and was now just an annoying part of men's anatomy.

         “But do we really need this since it’s so small,” Diane asked.

         “It’s small but functional,” Susan replied. “He couldn’t penetrate anything with it, but even small erections are still erections. Better a diaper blow out than a man’s genetic material everywhere. I mean seriously, is there anything worse that comes out of men?”

         Noah didn’t understand. Part of him was offended, and part of him was thankful this woman was going to somehow help him with whatever this gross stuff they were talking about was. Still, she wasn’t being very considerate or gentle. She didn’t ask before touching him. She just did it. The doctor at least told him she was going to do that before she did.

         “Alright,” she narrated for the benefit of Rachel and Diane as she lifted Noah’s scrotum, “the ring is going to go around his testicles,” she said as she lifted them up, moved his man clitty out of the way, and wrapped the measuring tape around him. “We want it to be snug so he can’t get out of it, but we don’t want it to be uncomfortable.”

         “Are those big,” Rachel asked.

         “His testicles? I wouldn’t say big. Average, which makes his man clitty look even smaller.”

         “Really,” Rachel asked, surprised, “I guess my frame of reference just isn’t so good. I drove a hard bargain on his dowry because I thought his was big.”

         “No one wants a husband with a big one,” Susan chuckled again. Men with bigger man clitties seemed to have all sorts of ideas about themselves and so many more behavioral problems. She tapped the measurement into her tablet as she continued, “I see a lot of women bringing in husbands with big ones, figuring if it’s too late to get a husband with a small one, they can at least lock it away. And you should see those men’s bottoms – apple red, purple bruises, cane welts, stripes from the switch. Just proves the point – men with big man clitties are just troublemakers.”

         “What’s the biggest one you’ve ever seen,” Diane asked.

         “Five inches erect.”

         Diane appeared disgusted. “Ugh. Gross.”

         “Yeah, but with the selective breeding, our granddaughters’ generation won’t have to ever see one of those. Their husbands will just have little nubbins. But speaking of,” Susan trailed off as she turned her attention back to Noah, measuring his length and tapping it into the tablet, “would one of you like to help?” Rachel stepped forward. “Just hold the tape taut and tell me the measurement when I ask.” 

         Turning her attention back to Noah, she turned her patronizing voice back on, the one men seemed to respond so well to even as they laid on her table, too man-minded to grasp just how humiliated they should feel, naked in a room full of clothed women, usually with wet diapers under them, having what a distant generation would have called their privates, laughable as the notion of any part of a man's body being private is, manipulated by a strange woman who was more concerned with the feelings of their wives and stepmothers than of them.

         “Alright Noah, this is your time to shine,” she said in that high-pitched voice as she tickled his man clitty with her gloved fingers, “Erections are very naughty things when you don’t have permission, but you do have permission.” She lightly rubbed and stroked it, tickling his scrotum and eliciting one of those emptyheaded smiles men always get when they’re allowed to have an erection. “Big permission,” Susan said, making herself chuckle and Diane giggle. “Now,” she said to Rachel.

         “Three inches. You were a very good man,” Rachel told her new husband, who was already soft again.

         “And you’re going to keep being a good man,” Susan said sweetly but with an edge in her voice as she tapped the number into her tablet.

         “Okay,” Susan said, rolling her stool back to the counter and pulling back the drape covering the tray. “We have a few choices to pick from.”

         “What’s the difference,” Diane asked.

         “Material, style, and comfort, or discomfort depending on how you want to look at it,” she stumbled into the pun. “Of course, maybe you don’t want to look at it at all! We have styles for that too.”

         “What do you recommend?”

         “For him, I’d recommend silicone.”

         “Isn’t that kinda flimsy?”

         “Lightweight but effective, and for what he has between his legs, you really don’t need steel or even aluminum unless you like the look of it.”

         “That doesn’t really make a difference, does it? It’s going to be under his diaper except for when he’s in the bath, over our laps, or getting milked.”

         “Can we milk him without taking it off,” Rachel asked. She’d been curious about that.

         “Yes, you can. That’s one of the best things about these. He’ll still ejaculate, but it won’t shoot out of him. More like just drip and ooze. If you lay him facedown, it all just gets collected into his diaper.”

         “That’s so much better,” Diane said. “I mean, my stepbrother barely shoots at all, but still it sometimes misses the paper towel. Men are lucky they don’t have ever deal with that stuff. I’d rather wipe bottoms all day.”

         “I hear ya,” Susan said. “Another benefit of the silicone is that you don’t really feel it. If he’s sitting on your lap or snuggling before bedtime and it’s pressed against you, it’s not noticeable, but the metal ones are.”

         “That would defeat the whole purpose of a chastity cage, wouldn’t it, feeling something hard through his diaper?”

         “That’s right,” Susan said, “men shouldn’t have bulges in the front of their diapers.” She turned back to Noah, still laying obediently on the table several feet away from their conversation, his feet in the stirrups and feeling bored and almost out of patience. “Isn’t that right, sweetums, the only bulge in your diapees are ‘sposed to be in the back, aren’t they? Yes, they are. When you make poopoos, yes they are. A-yes they are.”

         He flushed in embarrassment. He didn’t like having a dirty diaper and hated even more telling a woman about it. Even if they asked, he’d deny it, not that they were ever fooled.

         Turning back to her customers, Susan continued, “so it’s really just a matter of style after that.”

         “No way on the anthropomorphic ones,” Rachel declared, vetoing the ones even remotely shaped like a penis.

         “That just leaves the dome-shaped kind.”

         “Will that work for his size,” Diane asked as she picked one up.

         “Mhmm,” Susan said as she picked it up and held it out for them to examine. “It will be a little more confining for him when he gets excited, but that will just teach him to not get excited without permission. It will be comfortable over his little nub the rest of the time.”

         “Do you carry the kind that look like a vulva,” Rachel asked.

         “Not anymore. Those are not cleanup friendly. It’s an interesting idea, controversial obviously, but customers hated them when it came to cleanup.”

         Rachel considered for a moment what Susan meant by ‘not cleanup friendly’ and instinctively nodded her head, getting her meaning. “Well,” she asked her wife.

         “I like that one,” Diane said, pointing to the dome-shaped one. “Enough holes for him to wet into his diaper through, but not so open that you really have to look at it, even during changes.”

         “Me too,” Rachel said.

         “What color,” Susan asked.

         “We’re supposed to get four, right,” Rachel asked. One for him to wear, one for the diaper bag, one for daycare, and one for the nursery so that if he had an especially dirty diaper, no matter where he was there would always be a clean cage for his man clitty.

         While Susan went to get the cages – pink, blue, yellow, and green, all pastels – Rachel and Diane congratulated Noah on being so well behaved so far, promised him they were almost done, and entreated him to keep being good. Diane noticed him dribbling pee into the open diaper under him and folded it over him.

         Susan returned with the cages – and the largest paddle he’d ever seen. Even bigger than the one the daycare used that one time Billy said the c-word. Noah gasped when he saw it and started to tremble, his eyes darting to the two women he was married to, whom he barely knew, and silently pleaded for them to protect him.

         Susan already had one of the cages out, setting the others on the counter and walked toward Noah with the cage in one hand and the paddle in the other.

         “Are you going to be a good man and let me get your new ring on you,” Susan asked. He nodded vigorously as he eyed the paddle, remembering the crying and spanking he heard when he came in. He didn’t want to end up like that man. Susan smiled disarmingly and set the paddle down. Just the sight of it made all but the most recalcitrant men limply cooperative.

         “But what’s it for,” Noah asked bravely under the circumstances.

         Diane answered, “What happens when you’re naughty?”

         “I get in trouble.”

         “And what happens when you get in trouble?”

         “I get a spanking.”

         “That’s right,” Rachel said nicely, trying to communicate gentleness but hinting that she and her wife took naughtiness very seriously.

         “And you don’t want a spanking,” Diane said. Noah shook his head, trying to focus on what she was saying, but it was hard because Susan was touching him down their again. Diane took his chin in her hand and gently turned his eyes back to hers. “No, you don’t want a spanking. You know how sometimes your man clitty gets hard even though no one gave you permission?”

         “But I don’t mean for it to,” he said. It always seemed to have a mind of its own.

         “I know you don’t, sweetheart, and this will keep you from getting those naughty erections.”

         “It’s a good thing,” Rachel chimed in.

         “Mhmm,” Diane affirmed. “No naughty erections, no getting in trouble for naughty erections. Isn’t that good?”

         “I … I guess,” he said. It sounded good to Noah, but for some reason it was discomfiting, like there was some reason that, despite its meaning he wouldn’t get in as much trouble, it wasn’t a good thing, like there was a tradeoff but he couldn’t articulate what it was he was losing.

         “There,” Susan said. “You were a very good boy. So good, in fact, that if your wives say it’s okay, you can have a lollipop.”

         “He can have one.”

         Susan rolled back toward the counter and opened the drawer, taking out a small sucker and holding it out to Noah. She smiled, winked at him, and said, “Not all men get a sucker when they leave here, but you do because you were so good.”

         Noah didn’t know why, but as he looked at the sucker and then at Susan and then at each of his wives in turn, his lower lip began to tremble and he started crying big, fat tears, gently sobbing.

         “Aww,” Susan said, “your wife can save it for later. And don’t worry, a lot of men do that when they’re done here.” She handed Rachel the sucker.

         Hardly knowing his wives and how they were different, just that they were both supposed to be his protectors now, he flipped a mental coin and turned toward Diane, deciding she was his person and burying his face in her shirt. She rubbed his shoulders and petted his hair, cooing, “Aww, you’re okay, hubby. How about I get you in a fresh diaper while Rachel goes and pays?”

         “Good idea,” Rachel said. She took one of the small boxes and set it aside. “For the diaper bag.”

         Susan picked up the other three boxes and shook one. “Two keys are in here. We’ll get one of them on your key ring before we leave, just to be safe.”

         “O yeah,” Rachel said with a sarcastic chuckle as she followed Susan out of the fitting room, “wouldn’t want him locked away forever … How long can he stay in it?”

         “Well,” Susan said. Diane and Noah didn’t hear her reply as she walked away.

         “Let’s get you into something dry.” She rolled up the old diaper that had been under him and threw it in the diaper pail in the corner, noting the brand and how well it sealed in the smell. “Might have to try that,” she said as she got a fresh pamper from the diaper bag.

         Just before she taped it on him, she paused. Noah was sniffling but not crying anymore. “Sweetie,” she asked him, “does anything hurt?”

         “No?”

         “You’re sure?”

         “Mhmm.”

         “Good. Just checking.” She taped the diaper on him snugly.

         “Can … Can I have my pacifier?”

         “I thought you didn’t use a pacifier.”

         “I don’t … But I want to.”

         “Of course you can.” She got it out of the bag and put it between his lips for him. He started rhythmically sucking. She plucked a wipe out of the container and wiped the tear streaks off his face, held it out for him to blow his nose, and then got him dressed before leading him out to the register, holding his hand as he all but leaned on her shoulder.

         “Are we all done,” Diane asked.

         “Actually,” Rachel said, “we were just talking about butt plugs.”

         Diane smiled politely. “Let’s talk about that at home. I think if we try that today, we’re going to have a full-blown tantrum on our hands.”     

         Rachel leaned over slightly to look at Noah, standing behind Diane as if were suddenly shy. “You like that binky after all,” she observed. “Well,” she said as she walked toward him, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the cheek, “you were a very extra special good man. Let’s go find some fun things for you to play with.”

         “Since you took away his other plaything,” Susan chuckled as she put the receipt in the bag.

         Noah wondered what toy they had taken away. Diane ignored her and said, “And tonight, we’ll consummate our marriage.”

         “What’s that,” he asked.

         “It means you’re getting milked tonight.”

         “If he does have any pain tonight, just bring him back in,” Susan said. "We'll milk him here and see what the trouble is."

         “Do you think he'll have any pain,” Rachel asked.

         “Not at all. Some discomfort is normal, but he won’t have any pain with his itty bitty man clitty,” she assured them. “Have fun, Noah. Keep being a good man.”

         “I’ll try.”

         “What do you say,” Diane prompted him.

         “Thank you, Miss.”