Baby Sat - Act 1

Contains: Rules, power play, power reversal, humiliation, pants wetting, feeding, messing, face sitting, mittens and booties

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Author's Note: This is a story in three parts! I'm going to be uploading one a week until the whole thing's up.

For those of you keeping track of my behind-schedule posting, this is the last post for March - Part 2 will be the Patreon Exclusive for April, and Part 3 will be the exclusive for May. 

I am very pleased with how it turned out. This story turned into a full novella because I just couldn't cut all the ideas I wanted to include, and I hope that shows.

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“You don’t mind bringing the pizza?” Damian asked, hands wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist. “It’s going to be very…baby.”

“Hey, I’m not here to kill the party,” Sam replied, planting a kiss on his forehead and tucking his shaggy, shoulder-length hair behind an ear. “I want you to have a nice weekend with your friends. I know doing Little stuff is important to you, so if I can help, I’ll help.”

Damian chuckled. “I mean–I’ll be facilitating more than doing the little stuff myself. I’m the ‘big’ for the scene.”

“Right,” Sam said, in a tone that said, ‘I don’t totally agree’, or maybe, ‘I don’t follow’. “You’re definitely not someone who likes pretending to be a baby–I’ve seen the smut you read.”

“For the scene, I’m the babysitter. I don’t get Little like them very often,” Damian clarified, not mentioning that he’d only shown Sam the most borderline-Vanilla smut he could source. Trying to put it into Sam-friendly words, he rambled a bit. “The girls are going to be the babies. Or, well–Ness and Cammie are the babies. Molly describes herself as a ‘very mature toddler’, she likes to get fussy...it’s sort of a…being ‘put in her place’ thing? She likes rules, I guess.”

“Three tots, though. Sounds exhausting,” Sam said.

Damian shook his head. “Tiring, maybe, but the good kind of tiring.”

“Mhmm.” Sam smirked, reaching down to touch a hand against Damian’s thigh in a subtly provocative way. “And having three girls all horny and looking for someone to ‘take care of them’...”

“I don’t know if that’ll happen,” Damian admitted.

Sam shrugged, pulling away so he could look Damian in the eyes and smile. “Just use a condom if you do.”

“Trust me–there’ll be more protection than that between me and them if that happens,” Damian snickered. “You gotta go?”

“I’ll be late on my date if I don’t,” Sam confirmed. “I want time to get home and shower first, get my leather stuff all ready, you know.”

“I like you a lot,” Damian said, giving his boyfriend one last kiss on the cheek. They weren’t quite up to the L word yet.

“I like you a lot, too,” Sam replied.

The two of them had a comfortable relationship–their kinks didn’t have perfect overlap, but neither of them really wanted or expected that. They had other partners for kinky play, they had each other as the rocks in one another’s lives. And as long as Sam was loose on the details and didn’t know quite how much Damian liked the diaper thing, Damian was certain they’d have a long, healthy relationship.

But for the weekend, Damian had babysitting to do.

It had taken a lot of sweat, swearing, and time, but the nursery was complete. A playpen, a california-king sized crib, one highchair to share, a changing table, and the pièce de résistance, an actual adult-sized baby bouncer. And, naturally–as most of the girls were all into one flavor of CNC or another–everything had restraints, cuffs, or hardpoints built in.

This was going to be fun. Damian prided himself on the work he’d put in, and couldn’t wait to see his friends enjoy it all.

Molly–the ‘mature’ one of the group–had volunteered to drive, so when Damian saw her purple hatchback pull up outside, he knew the weekend was about to kick into gear. The girls bumbled out of the car, giggling excitedly.

Damian let out a little sigh, then smiled. They were going to love this, and he would love giving them a good time.

Opening the door, he let them all in. Cammie threw her arms around Damian in an excited hug that could be described as a tackle; the sudden and forceful embrace was nearly enough to topple Damian to the ground.

“Dayday!” Cammie exclaimed, grinning. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Cammie,” Damian said, reaching down to pat the back of her sweatpants–and feel the puffy bulge of a diaper. He knew her pastel purple ‘T-shirt’ was actually a onesie; all it would take was to strip out of the sweats and she’d be in full baby mode. “Still dry, hmm? Good girl–just let me know when you have an accident so we can get you all changed, okay?”

She preened, nodding happily, before stepping out of the way so Ness could come in, already suckling her thumb. The tallest of the group, Ness had practically dressed in Little clothes to begin with–no stealth onesie, just a bright pink dress that came down just to her knees, with ribbons in her hair. If there were two things Damian knew about Ness, it was that she was perpetually horny, and that she was perpetually baby.

Ness didn’t need to be asked or checked–smiling around her thumb, she lifted up her dress to show off a sodden diaper, already in dire need of a change. Damian just smiled at her. “And there’s the sog-master herself–we’ll get you all cleaned up in a second.”

Last one in was Molly, the ‘big kid’, the ‘mature’ one of the group. She’d worn white leggings that clung to her skin, leaving little to the imagination–and making it clear that she hadn’t worn a diaper at all. Just as planned. The other girls were arriving as babies, but Molly? She wanted to be taken down a peg or two.

“Come on,” he said, waving them all in. “I want to show you all the nursery!”

They filed in, baby, baby, soon-to-be-baby, and Damian. Giggles and excitement sparked off them all, eager to see what he’d put together–Damian hadn’t shared pictures, he’d wanted this to be a surprise.

He got the reaction he wanted, too. The enthusiastic gasps of sheer delight, one after the other, as the three girls saw what he’d built. He had expected this, because it’s how he would have reacted if he’d been in their shoes–a whole nursery? Built just for them? Delightful.

“Wow,” Molly said, looking around. “Damian–this was a ton of work.”

“I wanted you to have a good time,” Damian replied. “You all deserve a chance to be Little.”

“So do you,” she pointed out. “Are you going to indulge once the weekend’s over, at least?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” Admittedly, it wouldn’t be the same without a babysitter of his own.

“Anyways–Can I go use the potty?” Molly beamed innocently.

“Not right now,” Damian said, slipping back into his caregiving role. “You’re not big enough to go upstairs on your own, and I’m too busy to take you–you’re bigger than Cammie and Ness, can’t you be good for me and wait a little longer?”

Molly balled up her fists and squirmed–exactly the reaction they’d both been hoping for.

And then the evening began. Some of it was scripted, some not. Molly grew increasingly flustered and pouty as Damian continued to find excuses why he couldn’t take her upstairs to potty: He was just too busy.

Ness absolutely burst with joy as she got her diaper changed, and then Damian needed to host a  proper tea party–complete with actual tea and cookies that Damian baked the night before. After that it was dinner time, and of course he couldn’t stop to leave while he was feeding them all!

The girls each took turns eating in the high chair–Cammie just sat in it, Ness and Molly preferred being strapped down and force-fed, but all three enjoyed it deeply.

They took advantage of the bouncer, they played, they giggled, they had a nice time.

Around eight or nine, Molly’s proper baby induction began–a little earlier than Damian had expected, which would make for excellent teasing fodder later. She lost the fight with her bladder, having gone far too long without being allowed access to a bathroom, and flooded her white leggings.

As they’d all hoped, her accident made wonderful yellow stains, brilliant and humiliating, and the basement floor was just vinyl, so it didn’t care about puddles. Damian was sure to get lots of pictures before taking her hand.

“Alright, little girl–I think this proves you’re not big enough for panties yet. I was just going to take you upstairs, too, but it looks like you couldn’t actually hold it like you promised,” he said. She’d asked for exactly this language, and she blushed and made little helpless sounds of enjoyment as he recited them.

“But–I can make it to the potty!” she insisted, stamping her foot. “Please, lemme try again!”

“No can do,” he said. “Wet pants means diapers for the rest of the weekend–that’s the rule, Molly, and you broke the rule.”

At his invoking of the ‘rule’, he saw mingled shame and cheer. She was loving the scene, she loved rules, and he was proud to provide her that pleasure. Following their plan a little more, she asked, “Can I still try to make it to the potty, though?”

He grinned, reciting the end of the script she’d begged him to use. “Nope–we wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good diapers now, would we? You’ll wear diapers, and you can only have changes when someone bigger than you decides it’s OK. Those are the rules.”

She nodded. “O-okay.”

Perfection. Ignoring the tiniest pang of jealousy, Damian led her to the changing table and helped her up, stripping away her wet pants.

More games–Cammie got praised for helping clean up the tea party, with lots of kind words and rewards. Ness was allowed a little privacy in the corner with one of the stuffies, humping it until she left a dent in its fluff. Molly, once changed into her fresh diaper, was pouty and fussy and deeply enjoying being pushed down into baby status.

Three baby girls were put to sleep that night, snuggled up together in their shared crib, all in a pile of stuffies and blankets and dry, puffy bottoms. He went upstairs, set his alarm for early so he’d have time to make breakfast before waking them, and finally got some sleep himself.

Morning. Pee–in the toilet, he was the adult, after all. A ‘good morning’ to Sam, with a few funny anecdotes from the night before that didn’t go too deeply into the ‘baby’ stuff, for Sam’s sake.

Then, breakfast–oatmeal, plain for him, dosed up with fiber for Ness and a whole boatload of ex-lax for Molly, but piled high with absurd amounts of whipped cream for Cammie. Each to their own specifications. Each of the various breakfasts was given a colored plastic spoon of a different hue for the various girls’ meals–he didn’t want anyone getting Molly’s accident-inducing food by mistake, though the pale brown tint from all the chocolate ex-lax made it pretty easy to tell apart anyways.

“Morning!” he announced to the room, smiling as he turned on the lights. All three girls groaned; one thing they had in common was all being night owls, but he’d let them sleep in late and the fussing was largely for show.

They’d have to be fed one at a time, but all were happy to wait. First, changes had to be done, cleaning up three soggy bottoms. Molly fussed for a cup of water before they ate, so he got that too, then–wiping away the sleepiness from his eyes, got the girls dressed with various outfits from his clothes chest. Finally, he sat Ness down to eat.

Three babies was a lot of work, but it was worth it for the smiles on his friends’ faces.

One bowl went down, then two, as he fed Cammie, and then–

“Hey, Damian,” Molly said, taking his attention away just as he was scraping the last bit of oatmeal out of Cammie’s bowl.

He looked over, raising an eyebrow, just in time to see her throw out her hand, splashing the cup of water all over his jeans.

Damian blinked. “Molly, what the heck–”

Eyes sparkling with delight, Molly shouted to the whole room, “Hey everybody, Damian wet his pants!”

Cammie and Ness’s giggles rang in the room, and Damian rolled his eyes. “Great,” he said. “Very funny–I take it you’re cruising for a time-out later, little girl?”

She smiled mischievously, and he caught the whiff of her bratting, but…this wasn’t just bratting. Molly hid something else behind her smile. “Girls,” she said, like a general commanding her armies. “Get him!”

Damian’s eyes went wide, but he couldn’t react before Molly pushed him. Stumbling back, he fell over Ness–he hadn’t noticed her crawl up behind his legs, but the trip-trap worked perfectly, knocking him into a pile of stuffies.

And, before he could get back up, Ness was on top of him, plopping down onto his chest.

“Girls–” Damian protested, heart beating faster. “Hey–”

“Damian’s got wet pants,” Molly announced. “And I’m pretty sure the rule was, ‘Wet pants means diapers for the rest of the weekend.’”

(Oh,) Damian realized, struggling–and failing–to get Ness off him. (Oh no.)

He saw the trap, now–Molly hadn’t just been indulging her own fantasies, she had also set up a net to weave around him, creating an excuse to get revenge. There was just one problem.

“That rule applies to babies,” Damian said, putting his arms down so he could push himself up. Ness weighed him down, but she couldn’t keep him down forever. “And I’m–hey!”

Molly rested one of her feet just over his waist, leaning in enough to put more weight down on his body, to hold him in place without it hurting–but he knew she could make it hurt. Ness, meanwhile, scooted up his chest, spinning so that her diaper–which she’d already managed to flood again–was visible under her miniskirt right on the top of him, inches away from his face. Leaning, she grabbed both his wrists.

He could maybe wrestle two of the girls, if he needed to, but only barely. Recoiling his face away from the intense pee-smell radiating off Ness’s bottom, he wriggled and tried to get free.

When Cammie–who had asked not to be restrained for breakfast–got out of the high chair and walked over, his doom was spelled. There was simply no way he could resist three of them. Falling limp, he said, “Molly, you brat–once I get my hands on you, your bottom’s going to be so red we could hang you from a street pole to stop traffic!”

“Mmm,” she said, releasing her foot and walking over to the chest of clothes now that Cammie had his feet. “We’ll see. I haven’t broken any rules, now, have I?”

Squirming in his sopping wet pants, Damian tried to think of something that would help him out of this. His only hope–get an ally. “Cammie–you want to be a good girl, right?”

Cammie tilted her head, curious. He’d piqued her interest. Nodding, she said, “Uh-huh.”

“Well, be a good girl and help me stand up,” he replied.

She thought about it, tapping on her chin, really drawing out the moment of consideration. Damian felt a bit of hope, but Molly interjected and spelled out his doom.

“Good girls would make sure nobody breaks the rules,” Molly cut in, as she sifted through the options. “And Damian’s trying to get out of the consequence for having wet pants!”

That did it. Cammie shook her head emphatically, pigtails swaying back and forth. “Sorry, Dayday.”

“And, since he’ll probably try and fuss…” Molly said. “Let’s get him dressed up, ok?”

Damian could only barely see her out of the corner of his eye, there just wasn’t much room to turn his head, and Ness’s soggy bottom took up most of his field of view, but he caught a flash of purple fabric and knew what she had.

Molly had found the padded restraints. Mitts to take away his hands, and booties with metal spikes in the soles to force him to crawl. With those on, he’d be pretty helpless even without three girls working to keep him in place.

Another round of squirming kicked off, but Ness had his arms, Cammie had his feet, between the two of them he was weighed down so much he couldn’t even think about sitting up–all he could do was squirm and watch.

The mitts went on one at a time–slip, slip, lock, lock–and he couldn’t even see his feet when the booties were pulled on, but he felt them, heard the clicks, new his chances of reasserting being grown up were slipping away by the second.

“Come on, girls,” he said, thoughts buzzing, feeling almost intoxicated. He couldn’t give up. “I had so much fun stuff planned for you–don’t you want to be good?”

“Think about it,” Molly countered. “We’ll have our own life sized baby doll to play with!”

Her pitch got all the giggles and nods, ensuring that Damian would get no support.

But there was one thing left to do–Molly took a diaper from beneath the changing table, walked over, and stepped around Cammie so she could kneel between his knees. “Let’s get you into proper bottoms, okay?”

“Molly–” he warned.

She undid his zipper and button, pulling his jeans down to his knees.

“Molly,” Damian repeated.

His boxers went next, leaving him totally exposed, totally helpless.

“Molly…” he said, one last time, quiet and demure.

“Bottoms up,” she said. “Unless you want to find out what a three-baby spanking feels like!”

He almost struggled, there, but he knew it’d do no good. Impotent, he lifted his bottom and let her slide the diaper beneath him. She neatly folded it up, taped it on, and patted the front.

The worst part was–he couldn’t even see what diaper she’d put him in. There were half a dozen designs she could have selected, and he wasn’t even allowed the dignity of knowing. If he wasn’t supposed to be the weekend babysitter, that sort of denial of autonomy would have made him squirm with delight.

And, well, it still made him squirm with delight, but he wasn’t going to simply throw away his role on a whim.

“Still want to pretend you’re a grown up?” Molly asked.

He should have bit his tongue and given in, but Damian wasn’t ready to give in just yet. “Yes,” he said, firmly. “I’m a grown up who’s going to be handing out three spankings here very, very soon.”

“You heard him.” At Molly’s comment, all the girls nodded. “Everyone heard that, right? Damian’s bigger than us.”

Damian tilted his head, puzzled.

Then Ness gave him a clue, wriggling her hips on his chest in a grinding motion. “Molly, I gotsa question.”

“Sure,” Molly said. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Who’s gonna change my diapers? I gotta potty and Damian doesn’t have hands.”

“It’s okay,” Molly assured her. “I’m a big girl–even if I have accidents once in a while. I can give you permission to change since I’m bigger than you, and I know how to do it.”

(Oh, fuck me,) Damian realized. Then he realized something else. (Oh, fuck me–)

Ness leaned forward on his chest and began to grunt.

“Ness… Ness, Ness, Ness Ness Ness–” he said, fast and desperate, as the seat of her diaper crinkled and a slow, sloshy blllrrt- rippled right in his face. Her diaper, already sagging, grew heavy and brown right in front of his nose. He tried to pull his face away, turning, but she giggled and shuffled back, scooting until her still-expanding diaper was right on top of him.

But that wasn’t even the worst part, because he’d figured out Molly’s other trap–she’d goaded him into claiming he was bigger than them all, after establishing a very clear rule–he couldn’t have his own diaper changed unless someone bigger than him said it was okay.

There was still almost a full twenty four hours left until the scene ended, and his only hope at a fresh diaper would be when the scene ended.

He sniffed, getting a whiff of Ness’s poopy diaper as he realized the predicament he’d found himself in.

(Oh no.)