Flash Fiction- Sloth: The Last Choice You'll Ever Make (Patreon)

Sloth: The Last Choice You’ll Ever Make


Choice. So many choices. Too many choices. You had to choose what and when to eat.  What to wear. Where to live.  What to be when you grew up.  

Fuck those choices. Those weren’t really choices to begin with.

When every choice amounts to “or starve out in the cold,” there really isn’t a choice. Being alive is just one big choice between life or death done again and again and again.  Of course you’d choose life.

Your needs were never really met.  Life was just a million different flavors of anxiety.  ‘Nothing’ was never really an option.

Who to talk to. Who to be friends with. What to do for entertainment.  All of those were false choices, too.  Nothing more than alliance building to keep the game going or stop yourself from going mad. None of it really mattered. None of it was really a choice.

With “no” never being a true option, none of your choices really mattered.

Until Mommy.

Mommy came into your life and took all of those unnecessary choices away.

Presently you lay in your crib, dozing in nothing but your soaked diaper.  It’s so comfortable. Decadent even.  You’ve left all the choosing up to Mommy. No effort required on your part.

Mommy chooses when you get changed. She chooses what, if anything, you wear. She chooses what you’ll eat and when you’ll be put to sleep. She chooses who you meet and play with.  She chooses what to watch.

And all things being equal, it is so nice not to have to worry yourself with all the tedious choices. To be so fully unburdened. There is no choice. So there is no anxiety.  You lift your legs up off the crib mattress and effortlessly push a mess into your diaper.  You smile dreamily as you lower them back down.

Not your problem.  Mommy will clean it up eventually.  If you get a rash, Mommy will use some of the white sticky cream and get rid of it.  If she doesn’t? It wasn’t your call anyways.  Right now, it just feels so good.

You don’t lift your head when you hear Mommy’s footsteps.  Too much effort. You know she’ll come to you.  And she does.

“Hello, my sweet innocent baby!” she chirps.  “It’s time to get up!”  Oh that’s so nice. No stupid question. No ‘are you ready to get up?’.  Just telling you what’s going to happen.

Mommy keeps talking in that vein: “Mommy’s going to change your diaper, and get you dressed for the day.  Then she’s going to feed you in your highchair and take you out to the park.  You’ll get to meet another little baby just like you and play with them while Mommy talks to their Mommy.  Then Mommy will give you some titty for lunch and set you down for a nice nap.”

That sounds lovely, not that Mommy asks. She doesn’t need to.  You’ve got no choice.  You give her a sleepy giggle, anyways.

“But first…” Mommy says. “You have a choice.”  Your dread leaps out of nowhere and multiplies when you realize she’s holding something behind her back.  She reveals what you’ve come to call, a ‘buzz buzz toy’.  

Whirring fills your ears and she presses it between your diapered legs.  Ooooh.  Oh!  Wow! That feels nice.  It feels like it’s been so long since you even thought about this.  The rush is so sudden that you almost climax before the ten second mark.  

You stop yourself.

“Ah ah ah,” Mommy taunts you, her eyes like burning embers.  “No holding back.”

You mumble, moan, and mewl pathetically. You want to explain your frustration and excitement, but why bother? Mommy knows you so well.  It’d be wasted effort.  Nevertheless, you disobey. Try to think unsexy thoughts. Try to resist, if only to prolong the pleasure.

“You’ve been a very good baby so far,” Mommy says. “Now be the best baby.” She withdraws the wand, and turns it off.  You start to whimper pathetically, but she ignores it.  

“You already don’t choose when you use your diaper.” That’s true. With Mommy’s help you’ve become thoroughly unpotty trained. “So what’s one more thing?”

There is logic in what she says.

“Mommy is going to put mister buzz-buzz back up against your diaper.  If you tell her no, she’ll stop.  But she’ll stop making all decisions for you.  No more diaper changes. No more feedings. No more dressing. No more baths. No more play dates.”  You’ll be a big kid, capable of making all of those nasty decisions.”

She pauses and brushes some hair out of your face. You’re due for a haircut..

“But if you’re a good baby and let yourself go, then you’ll never be a big kid ever again.  No more words. No more potty. No more feeding yourself or picking anything out. No more sex: The only time you’ll have an orgasm is when Mommy decides it’s time.”

She lightly slaps the front of your diaper, giving you chills.  “And believe me, little one, the only place you’ll be having a climax is right here in your diaper.  No where else. No place a big kid might.  You’ll just be Mommy’s special sweet baby. Forever and ever. No. More Choices.”

The buzzing starts up again.

“So,” she purrs seductively.  “Let’s see what you choose.”

(Inspired by an upcoming work of Lyra Starling and the conversations and the ponderings of Sophie and Chloe.)