From Party Pooper to Diaper Pooper – Chapter Six (Commission)

Thanks as always to our awesome Gold-tier patron Bondagediaperlover93 for commissioning this latest chapter!

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Just how late is it by now, anyway? How long have we been partying?

Hell, I dunno. But neither do I care. We've taken down that goddamn neighbor of ours at last, and it's time to celebrate with a party to end all parties.

"Hey, Cassandra," slurs Sarah from her place by the stereo, clearly well-boozed up. "You- you hear what Jessica said? Somethin' 'bout that new big baby of ours about to put on a show. Les' go shee, 'kay?" God, she's drunk – but I'm kinda tipsy myself, so who cares? "Sure," I enthuse, tossing down the last of my drink – and then we thread our way through the mess of fallen coats and half-empty pizza boxes to the big-screen along the wall. Because if something's about to go down, I sure as hell want to be there to see it.

Just so you know, I'm very well aware of my own reputation. I know some folks seem to think I'm some kind of freaky man-eater – that I chew guys up and spit them out – that the only person I care about is myself and my own kinky sex drive. I dunno where they would have gotten such ideas. I mean, sure I've had flings with more guys than I can count. And yeah, I do love being in charge in bed. Who wouldn't? There's something so fucking hot about seeing a guy whimpering and begging me to let him cum, to let him go, even just to let him breathe, that just fires me up every time…

So yeah, maybe that's why my friends turn expectantly to me now as I draw near the screen and catch sight of what the nanny cam is showing us. There that asshole is: trussed up in that straitjacket, strapped down nice and tight to the bed, wriggling pathetically in the darkness with wide eyes and a duct-taped mouth. Oh, yeah – it's a fucking delight. I've had a guy or two in my life who let me do that to him, and damn, the fun I had before I let their sorry asses go free!

"I think he's about to, um, well-" "He's gonna shit himself any minute," Cynthia cuts Jessica off with a loud laugh. "Our sweet little babysitter Jess here just admitted that she fed him that laxative bottle you made up for him. And that was, what? Three fucking hours ago?"

"At least," Jessica admits with a self-conscious blush… and I let out a cackle of glee. "Wow, Jess – I didn't know you had it in ya!" And here I'd thought she was way too much of a meek little sub to ever try something like that. "Let's see. You fed him the whole bottle? Everything? Then, fuck- I'm surprised he's not been shitting his brains out already-"

Speaking of. For even over our own loud laughter, I can hear a muffled burbling. Quiet grunting, and a pathetic little moan. Another, even louder spate of liquidy, gassy spluttering. And on the screen before us, I can see the guy writhing in evident pain and disgust at clearly no longer being the master of his own body. And who wouldn't? He's messing his diaper uncontrollably for probably the first time since he was an infant.

"Hoo-wee! Ugh, that's so fucking gross-" "Damn, just like a literal baby!" "Don't envy the one who has to clean that up…"

But it's Jessica I'm watching now. She's not laughing with the rest, but neither does she look ashamed at what she's just done. Strangely enough, as she gazes into the screen, in her eyes I see… what is that? Pride? Elation? I'm not quite sure I get it, but then, as I step closer to congratulate her on finally finding some backbone, I catch the sound of her murmuring under her breath as if to a small child. "Aww, that's right, sweetie. Let it all out, and you'll feel so much better. I'm so proud of you-"

Proud of him? For shitting himself? I swear, sometimes I really don't get what's going on in that girl's head.

But there's no time to mull it over. "Who da fuck ish gonna clean him up?" the drunken Sarah chortles, and I can see from the subsiding laughter and looks of disgust that my friends are finally realizing the dirty side of this plan. Fortunately, I already have the solution – because she's literally standing right in front of me, wearing that weirdly proud smile on her face.

"Jess here will, of course!" I beam, clapping her on the shoulder. "Come on, Jess, you're the one with the most experience with shitty diapers! Lead the way for us. Show us how it's done…"

"But-" she begins, and now she's looking more unsure than proud. "But… why me? Shouldn't other folks learn, too? I mean, I won't be here all the time, and someone else will have to do it then-" Goddammit, she has a point – but so does everyone else who chimes in. Michael should, to get revenge. Brian should – he's the strongest. No, really, shouldn't Cynthia? She'd be super good at it-

Well, you know how boozy arguments go. In the end, it's a literal fucking game of drawing straws – or in our case, some of the toothpicks we use for martinis – that settles it. And of course it ends up being me who draws the stupid fucking short one.

"Fuck me. Guess there's nothing for it," I sigh melodramatically, making my way up the stairs behind her with all the others in tow. "Oh, don't worry, Jess – I'll do it! I'm in freaking medicine, after all. It's just that, you know… I always figured I could let the nurses take care of this gross-ass shit-"

"Everybody poops," Jessica smiles with a wry shrug, reaching in and flipping on the light before gesturing me in. "It's not that bad, I promise! Here, I'll walk you through it step by step." And bless her innocent heart, I have no doubt but that she truly means that.

We've already decided to keep the cretin awake for his change – on purpose. It was my idea, you know – just to make sure that he gets the maximum humiliation out of it. So really, there's nothing else to do but set to work. We fight through the smell that's filling this new nursery, and I try my best not to gag as we lower the crib bars, mentally psyching myself up for the task. I can do this. It's just a diaper. I've done nastier stuff than this before, right? Like that time I farted on that guy's face…

Though the grossed-out laughter, and pinched noses, and disgusted comments from the others aren't exactly helping. "Oh, god – that's awful!" "Goddamn, man – what's that creep been eating?" "Smells like something fucking died in here." "Now that's one smelly-ass baby!"

I can't help but agree. But fortunately for my kinky self, I also happen to glance down and catch sight of the wide eyes of our captive, gazing up into our faces. He's gurgling, moaning out terrified and humiliated little moans behind the tight wraps of tape. "Mmmmmpphhhh! Ggghhhhmmmmpphhh!" And dammit, if those sounds don't put me right back into the headspace I love so much.

Because, well… I admit it. There's little I love more than taunting a pathetic, gagged guy and reminding him of just how powerless he is before me.

"Aww, what's that, baby? I'm so sorry, but we really can't understand a word you're saying!" Even Jessica's blushing visibly as I lean down, my words dripping with condescension as I smirk full into his stupid face. "You know, until you figure out how to talk like a big boy, I'm just gonna assume you're begging us for a clean diaper. Hear that, Jess? This baby wants a change!"

And so we give it to him.

It's the aspects of bondage and control that get me through, in the end. We get to use that spreader bar to keep his stupid, flabby legs apart, so that's fun. Together we haul his heavy, shitty ass to the changing table we got just for this purpose, laughing and ridiculing him all the way. And of course we get to strap him down again there, with those feebly kicking legs of his suspended in the air and spread wide for us to finally do the job…

"Hey, I almost forgot to mention." It's Michael, of all people, and he's holding up the guy's phone with a look of quiet, tolerant pleasure on his face. "I've gone through his phone here, and he's definitely a loner. I can't find family in here, or neighbors, or even friends. Honestly, I can't even find a pizza delivery guy's number in here." The bound Bob lets out another strangled whimper of defeat – a delightful contrast to Michael's own matter-of-fact shrug. "Guess we're clear, huh? Not a soul is going to notice if he's gone – so honestly, I don't see why we can't keep him here indefinitely…"

Whatever. I mean, that's all great news and stuff. But at the moment, I'm far too focused on donning my latex gloves, and opening those adhesive tapes, and trying not to gag at the mess that lies within. Amid a chorus of groans and disgusted, laughing exclamations from my friends, I doggedly follow Jessica's unperturbed instructions. "Listen, you get used to it," she's saying, clearly unmoved by the sights and smells before us. "Now, take a wipe, and just start cleaning the skin up. That's right, front to back. Now another one. Good, good…"

Oh, did I mention that these clowns around me are recording this all on their phones like it's a fucking rock concert?

Just as before, it's that mix of focusing on Jessica's guidance and a glance now and then at our helpless patient that gets me through what would otherwise be a stomach-churning horror. Yeah, it's disgusting. But god, there's also something so… exhilarating… about it. That gleam of naked terror in his rolling eyes. That futile struggle in his bonds. The twitching muscles that are so utterly helpless before the wiles of a couple of laughing young people…

And of course there's also Jessica's well-meaning words of consolation that only deepen the childish humiliation for him. "Now, now, don't be scared, baby! Everything's going to be all right, I promise. You just need to learn your lesson, okay? This is all for your own good, remember?"

Damn, I'm going to need to remember a few of those lines for my own kinky scenes! Sure, such sweet words are way nicer than anything this particular guy deserves. But, honestly, I can already imagine saying those things to an adorable, red-bottomed, blubbering subby guy over my knee. You know, right before I stuff my panties in his mouth and give him another round with the paddle.

Speaking of sex…

"Aww, look – he's getting all excited!" Of course he is, thanks to the way I've begun squeezing and running those wipes along his amusingly short cock. Maybe it's habit, or maybe I'm just looking for ways to humiliate him even further. "Hey, watch this, Jess!" I giggle. "Let's see what happens when I poke a finger in here…"

The innocent girl has probably never even heard of anal before, but that doesn't matter. "Oh, that's just normal," she shrugs with a glance at the erect little member between my fingers. "Little baby boys can't help it, honestly. It just happens." Especially when you tease them and finger-fuck their ass, I add mentally, but just laugh and lean into that baby idea once more.

"Well, I guess you're right. Though given that he's literally in diapers, Jess, I think he's way too little for that kind of fun!" And then, kinky girl that I am, I can't help but connect the little idea with something else. "Speaking of little… his little thingie is so short! Did you ever see such a teesny little willy? Talk about tiny!"

Well, so it goes. Amid laughter and groans, we finally get the mess cleared away and a fresh diaper beneath him – but of course that's only half the battle. Jess gets the luminous idea to shave his pubes while we're at it – and I can't help but agree. "After all, babies don't have any hair down here, do they?" I chuckle, running the razor gleefully along his naked groin. "And having it all clean will make changes loads easier, too!"

Nor is shaving the last straw, either. Astonishingly, it's Jess who first offers the idea of locking that tiny cock of his in a chastity cage – and I, startled mainly by the fact that she knew what one was – can only agree. I get the pleasure of shoving a suppository deep into his ass – "to keep our new baby regular!" –  then dust his entire naked groin with a generous dusting of powder. And what a strange and yet delightful sight it is, too! That hard web of steel around his cock… the weirdly smooth, bare skin beneath… the thick padding of the diaper being pulled up and around, sealing our pathetic, impotent little man-baby into a fresh, shameful prison…

Yeah. Maybe it's just the booze, but right now I'm really starting to dig this baby humiliation thing way more than I thought I would.

It's once the whimpering guy is safely back in his giant crib and securely cuffed into place that I recollect the weird freebie I'd received when purchasing all this gear. A "paci-gag," they'd called it on the packing slip. I'd scarcely looked at it until now, but now it seemed like it might just be everything I wanted for him and more.

"Here, let's give this giant baby something to suck on!" And off comes those wraps of tape amid a fresh chorus of laughter. Out comes the sodden, spit-soaked cloth that until now has been choking his wails into silence. Then into his trembling mouth – even before he can articulate a protest – we gleefully shove the brand-new paci gag. Its rubber bulb is gigantic and brutally effective as a gag, sure. But it's the infantile, pastel pink shield and leather straps that do it for me. God, how humiliating for a grown man it must be! Lying there unable to speak, reduced to gurgling like a genuine infant… and all thanks to a girly pink pacifier strapped so tightly into his mouth that he can't possibly spit it out…

"Now, then – selfie time!"

Of course Jess and I take a selfie with him – as do all the others. Not necessarily to remember the night, of course. Hell, I'm going to remember this night as long as I live. Speaking for myself, though, I'm just looking for ways to humiliate the guy even further. After all, right now I can't imagine much more humiliating than a bound, gagged, and babyfied guy being forced to take a selfie with the two hot college girls who have him under their thumbs…

Though I dunno. Gimme another night or two, and I just might be able to cook up something even more humiliating yet!

(To be continued!)