A Good Babysitter Is Hard to Find

"So, tell me… what does a pretty girl like you love to do when she's not working? I bet taking care of these brats must really get old after awhile, huh?"

God, this guy Rich is a piece of work! I eye him mildly out of the corner of my drink, sizing him up and mentally deciding exactly how to respond to him. He's clearly loaded – with money, I mean, though the alcohol isn't far behind. He's already told me his pitiful sob story about how his no-good, gold-digging wife left him, and how he has split custody of his kid, and how he really needs someone to take care of his kid next week while he's out on a business retreat with his buddies…

If there was ever an entitled, spoiled-ass, filthy-rich asshole who needs to be taught a lesson, it's him.

"Oh," I begin cattily, pretending to find his sleazy lines endearing. "You know… what every single, bored young woman does when she's on her own. Scroll Instagram. Work on my tan. Drink way too much." I give an affected giggle, knowing damn well how nicely it fits with what he wants to see in me: a young, sexy, brainless airhead of a nanny, so starstruck and gullible that I'll do anything to please him…

And yes – I mean everything.

"Really?" He leans closer, and I can smell the reek of alcohol on his breath. "Sounds like a good time. I bet you'd love staying at my place this week. You know, lazing around in a bikini by my pool…" His smile grows as I widen my eyes in affected delight and simper back. "Aww, a pool? That sounds amazing! You sure you wouldn't mind me doing that while watching your son?"

"Of course not!", he enthuses, and his very tone of dismissal sends him plunging even lower in my estimation. "Chase is into god knows what stuff these days – Minecraft or whatever, I guess. I really don't know. Just plop him in front of the TV and enjoy yourself as far as I'm concerned." And now he's slipping his hand casually close to mine, reaching out with one sleazy finger to stroke mine. "Soo… whaddya say, Nina? I told you I pay all my babysitters very generously. And listen: if you say yes tonight, I promise you can try out that pool immediately! You must be quite a stunner in a bikini, you know…"

Well, I do love a good paycheck, even more than I love flattery. But what I honestly love most of all is the chance to bring my own little type of restorative justice to the world. And so, though my skin crawls with every self-absorbed comment he makes and every pointed glance he gives my straining bosom, I giggle… and nod… and agree to let him take me back to his place.

Because that's definitely the best place to start: in the privacy of his own stupid home.

***

He never even noticed what I slipped in his drink, did he? Typical.

It's been barely fifteen minutes, and already his words are already slurring, his head slipping heavily down onto my shoulder as he slumps against me. "Goh, whadda a goodh looker you are, bay…bee…" I smile softly, fingers tangling deep within his stupid, smoothly slicked-down hair as I relish the delightful beginnings of his comeuppance. "Oh, really? Goodness, Mister Rich, are you hitting on me?" Of course he is – or at least he was. But with those drugs and alcohol flooding through his system now, it's only a matter of minutes before he's even going to be able to stand upright… let alone form a coherent sentence.

"Well, I suppose if you don't mind, I would like to get a bit more comfortable," I giggle, still trying to play the part to the very end. Open goes my blouse, and he blinks in uncoordinated, lewd excitement as my heavy breasts hang, full and tantalizing, inches from his stupid nose. "Oh, dear! My bra is really so tight tonight. I know we just met, Rich. But I don't suppose you'd mind if I… you know… loosened it up a bit?"

"Fhuckk… yeahhh," he garbles out, and I unnoticed above him I can't help but smirk. God, he's completely under my thumb now, isn't he? Again, so pathetically typical! Show a guy a bit of boob, and he's practically yours to command. He'll do anything, say anything, agree to anything you want, just so long as you give him that bit of luscious tiddies…

And off comes my bra: revealing something that he had no way of knowing, but which I've been secretly reveling in the entire time.

I'm lactating: heavily. And I wasn't lying when I complained about my tight bra. Between all of these supplements and herbs and pumping I've been doing, my already well-endowed chest is full and heavy with milk, my nipples engorged and glistening with their creamy bounty. I need relief… relief of the sort that this guy is now far too limp and helpless to be able to avoid giving.

"Oh, look at that!" I'm giggling in earnest now, watching the slow spread of confusion across his stupefied and drug-addled face. "Didn't I mention? Sometimes we babysitters need to be ready to take care of babies – obviously – so it only makes sense for me to be prepared! We get higher rates that way: you know, from parents who don't want their kid fed formula. Richie-rich, I don't suppose you mind? Surely you wouldn't refuse to pay me for bringing such a lovely, full, dripping set of tiddies to the job, would you?"

"Nuh- guh-" He's practically gurgling now, eyes rolling in an intoxicating mixture of lust, dismay, and drug-induced confusion. "Geeuh- Whhaaa-" "Oh, what's that?" I tease, relishing his every moan. "Goodness, you sound just like one of those sweet little babies I feed!" I coo, and now I'm tugging the weight of his limp body across my knees and into my lap. "You know… if it sounds like a baby, and it acts like a baby…" I pick up his noodle-like arm and let it flop limply down to demonstrate his utter helplessness. "Then I suppose it really must be a baby, huh?"

And then, at long last, I do it. I tug his feebly moaning head close, and tease open his mouth with my deft fingers… and before he can even drool out an impotent protest, I force my heavy, milk-swollen teat deep into his stupid mouth.

"Drink up, baby," I order, smiling down into his now-mute, panicked expression. "Oh, I bet you're wondering what's going on, huh? Never you fret. Never you mind a thing! You're way too rich and famous and important to worry about the little things, after all. You know, the little things… like the drugs I slipped into that whiskey of yours… the little details of just how long you're going to be my helpless little ragdoll of a toy… the tiny little side effects that just might make tonight even more embarrassing for you than it already is…"

I reach down toward those expensive trousers, unbuttoning them deftly even as I feel him suckling in stunned, reflexive obedience. "Aww, look at that!" I giggle, feeling the soft, flaccid bulge of his cock through his satiny boxers. "See? I can stroke your thingie all I want right now – and somehow, it just never gets hard! Which, you know, makes sense. Sex is for big boys – not for pathetic, overgrown man-babies who want nothing more than a tiddy stuffed in their mouth and, I dunno… a thick, humiliating diaper to piss in…"

He's trying to tug free, but his poor muscles simply refuse to cooperate. All he can do is lie here in my arms, staring up and moaning incoherently around my bulging breast. "Drink up, buddy," I order once more, and now I let a shade of harsh command enter my voice. "Those drugs aren't going to flush themselves out, you know. You're going to have to drink – a lot – in order to even think of starting to get your muscle control back. Which, you know, is why I'm dead-serious about getting you in a diaper as soon as you've finished this first feeding."

I smirk and tug him closer as he gurgles and lets out a milky burp. "Might I suggest… you know… starting with this left tit, hmm? And then the right? And maybe, if you're a good baby and haven't fallen asleep by then, we can start all over! Because believe me, your new babysitter is more than willing to do whatever it takes to keep her baby happy…"

I'm laughing sadistically now, thrilling at both the sensation of this poor loser's redoubled suckling on my breast and at the knowledge of what I've just done with him. I've got two whole days to play with this fancy-pants loser: two whole days to force-feed him just like this, and slip him more drugs, and wrap his stupid ass in the thick diapers I so dearly love to see on grown men like him. And by the end of it, he's going to have learned a couple of things…

That Nina isn't a woman to be trifled with. That shitloads of money can't make up from being a sleazy asshole. And most importantly, that sometimes the best babysitter is the one who isn't afraid to take care of the real baby.