A Weekend at Sir's, Part 5 (Finale)

(Contains: Messing, Wetting, Leaking, Intense Kinkiness, Play Party, BDSM, Oral) 

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The party will begin at Seven PM. Be sure to arrive on time if you don’t want to wait in line.

Damian read the message a few more times.

(Wait in line. How many people did he invite?)

He’d negotiated the details carefully. Sam had promised that Damian’s baby would be safe–all the guests had a recent, clean STD panel and were people in the community he knew well. His baby would be OK, but Damian didn’t know if he would.

Sam had promised that, if Damian needed it, he could step out and get some air. There was a side room available for people who needed quiet and space, too, away from the play. But he couldn’t safe word on his baby’s behalf–only his baby could do that, or Damian would be ruining the fun.

He fretted over what to wear. His dad jeans, and a plain tee? Something cozy? Or would it be more appropriate to try and dress up hardcore? Did he own anything that qualified as ‘hardcore’? The only leather in his wardrobe was a belt, and he didn’t wear much black.

Ultimately, Damian settled on wearing his usual daddy-dom clothes–jeans, a tee, his beard groomed, altogether an outfit that screamed ‘I will cuddle the heck out of you’.

Ensuring his aftercare bag was fully prepared, he got into his car and drove out to Sam’s.

It was his baby’s big night. He wouldn’t miss it for the world, as much as he feared for his baby’s comfort.

He arrived unfashionably early, barely past six, and parked far down the driveway, sitting in his car for thirty minutes so that his arrival would only be awkwardly early, not downright uncomfortable. Pulling up to park in front of Sam’s isolated property, he got out and walked up to the door.

Sam opened it before he could knock, smirking. “Couldn’t wait?”

“Is he okay?” Damian replied.

“He’s fine. He’s in his booth now,” Sam promised, stepping aside to let him in. “He’s been very brave.”

“Did he have to safe word?” Damian asked.

“Only once, to talk for a little bit,” Sam assured him. “He’s very happy with how things are going.”

Inside Sam’s house, Damian felt caught off guard by how dark it was. The sun was still up, but inside, curtains had been pulled, and the lights were dimmed, so that one could see clearly, but not brightly.

In fact, the main source of illumination came from a glass booth set in the center of the living room. It’d been well lit inside, to show off its contents: Enough space for one person to kneel and another to stand in front of them, with a glass door for entry and exit. The only furnishing was the lights on top and a suction-cup holder on the wall, which held a large sports bottle.

Inside, Damian’s baby knelt on the ground, mouth agape, expression afraid. His hands were folded behind his back, and he was kneeling on…something.

“What’s he kneeling on?” Damian asked.

Sam smirked. “A large lego surface from a city playset, with a heavy duty puppy pad beneath it. I didn’t want him to get comfortable, or to make a mess when he leaks.”

(When he leaks. Not if.)

“Is that why he’s trembling so much?” Damian asked. “I don’t know how uncomfortable that is.”

“It’s probably part of it,” Sam said. “Another part would be the laxatives I forced into him with lunch. He knows he won’t get a change until the party is over, and the air in that booth is limited.”

Shivering, Damian took in the rest of it. His baby had been wrapped in a diaper–no, several diapers, the front of which was pulled out slightly so that one could look down and see his raging erection that tended the material of his diaper, and his only other clothing was a bib and a large, bulky black collar.

“He’s not to move from that spot until the party is over,” Sam said. Damian already knew that, but he swallowed anyways, stepping closer to read the writing on his baby skin. “If he sways, or gets up, his collar will give him a reminder to stay put.”

Black marker had been used to mark down instructions on his baby’s stomach. The words ‘USE ME’, with two arrows–one pointing down to his baby’s diaper, the other up, to his baby’s face. To his mouth.

Damian waved, and Sam smirked. “He can’t see you, that glass is mirrored,” he reminded.

“I know, but…” Damian shrugged. “Still. I–”

(I can’t go see him now,) Damian knew. Not at the start of the night. He had to wait until the end, until the party was over, so that he could give his baby the finale he deserved.

“Have a drink and relax,” Sam suggested, gesturing over to his personal wet bar. “Our work is done. Now it’s up to our guests to enjoy their entertainment.”

Damian swallowed. He had no doubt that his baby could make it through the knight. What he wasn’t certain of was his own fortitude.

One by one, guests showed up. Some dressed casually, others in leather. One mommy dom came in leading her own baby, a boy wearing a collar and a little red dress and a very visible diaper. She smiled at Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” she said.

“Hey, Mindy,” Damian replied. “How’s your little one?”

“Feisty tonight, I think he’s fishing for a spanking,” Mindy replied. The baby boy turned pink, but his expression read as, ‘yes, I am’.

It didn’t take long before someone entered the booth. Damian watched, with rapt horror, as the patron slid down their pants and pushed their cock into his baby’s open mouth. His baby’s eyes rolled back and he allowed his face to be fucked, a process that took several vigorous minutes, during which the stranger pulled on his hair and used it as a handle.

His baby was left dribbling sticky white fluid, drool and cum, between his open lips. The patron lifted the sports bottle from off its holder and squirted something between the baby’s mouth. The baby grimaced, but swallowed.

“Pedialyte,” Sam commented. “Not the best taste in the world, but we need him to stay hydrated, don’t we?”

Damian shuddered, expecting the patron to leave. Instead, they kept their cock out, aimed, and began to pee.

It mostly landed on the baby’s chest and dribbled into his diaper. Mostly. A little splattered down the front, but the puppy pad spread out behind and below the baby, beneath the lego kneeling board, would soak up the excess.

Wiping themselves off with the bib, the patron zipped up their jeans, turned, and strolled out of the booth.

Sam had been right–a line had already formed.

Not everyone took full advantage. Some only needed the baby’s mouth, some only needed the diaper. Damian couldn’t help but notice that his baby’s performance had improved–his skill at cocksucking showed more delicacy now, more restraint, more practiced care. Even when going down on different plumbing, the baby used his tongue skillfully, lapping and thrusting as squirt poured down his face.

At some point, in the middle of eating out a short woman, the baby shuddered, winced as his collar zapped electricity down his spine, and doubled over. The woman laughed, and made a teasing comment that made the baby’s face turn pink, pinching her nose and waving at the air.

Despite what’d just happened, she still forced Damian’s baby to finish, and by his baby’s shameful expression and her wicked grin, she was teasing him constantly for it.

“Come on,” Mindy’s little one insisted, tugging on his mommy’s arm. “I want to!”

“You’re not taking off your diaper, sweetie,” Mindy replied. “What would even be the point?”

“Everyone else–” he started. At a look from Mindy, he corrected to, “All the grown ups get to use the baby booth, why can’t I? I’ll be good. My diaper will stay on, I promise.”

She smiled, giving in. “Alright, sweetie. Go get in line.”

The demeanor of those using the booth had shifted, with more comments–Damian couldn’t lip-read, but he could tell it was mockery by their expressions–and more humiliation of his baby. More mockery. As more guests availed themselves of his diaper, it swelled, growing sodden and heavy and sagging absurdly.

Whenever his baby wriggled too much, Sam used a remote to trigger his shock collar. “Do you know why he’s not allowed to move at all?” He asked, leaning against the bar.

“To make him more uncomfortable,” Damian guessed, staring on in rapt horror as his baby winced again.

“It’s because he’s so turned on, even five seconds of humping his diapers would bring him to climax,” Sam replied. “I took off his cage. He’s a desperate puddle and without my discipline, he’d have ruined his night already.”

(Oh.)

Mindy’s own little one got into the booth, lifting up his dress. He said something, laughing, and pressed his diaper right into Damian’s baby’s face. The front of his diaper grew dark and heavy, sagging over the baby’s nose and mouth, and he cackled…before…

Turning around, he lifted the back of his red dress and pressed the seat of his diaper into the baby’s face, screwing up his face.

Mindy, spotting this, started to approach. “That little stinker–”

“Hold it, Mindy,” Sam said, raising a hand calmly. She stopped, and he said, “I won’t tell you how to discipline your little one, but the booth is occupied. Leave them be until he’s done.”

“Oh, I’ll leave him be,” Mindy said, her face calculating.

Inside the booth, the back of her little one’s diaper swelled, mush packing the seat, expanding to press against the baby’s whole face. The little one really ground it in, asserting their dominance over Damian’s baby, mushing their mucky seat up and down. Turning again, he again pressed his diaper against the baby. The little one was clearly hard, erection tending the front of his soggy diaper, and he ground against Damian’s baby, squelching against him, until he shuddered and finished.

Crouching down, he whispered something in the baby’s ear, then squirted some pedialyte into the baby’s open mouth, then finally turned and left the booth. Damian’s baby couldn’t even recover. He had to keep his mouth open and accept the next guest who needed to fuck his face.

Mindy, for her part, stalked over and grabbed her little one by the ear, dragging him towards a side room. A minute later, the sound of a spanking echoed from that side of the house, and after a while, they both returned, her little one looking embarrassed and rubbing at his bottom.

The guests eventually slowed down. Some went back for seconds, but not all. The baby got a few breaks, chances to breathe–though the air in his booth had to have grown intensely foul–and recover. His diaper was so sodden from its abuse that it looked about ready to fall off, the front end rendered into soggy mush.

“I don’t get it,” Damian admitted, struggling to continue watching. He couldn’t look away and abandon his baby, even as his heart swelled and he wanted to grab him and run, to get his baby as far away from this place as he could. “I just don’t get it. Why?”

“He’s explained it to you, hasn’t he?” Sam asked.

“Yes, but…I still don’t get it. I don’t understand why he likes being…treated like this.”

“Do you still love him?” Sam said, watching Damian now.

“Yes, of course,” Damian replied. “Obviously. Why would you even ask?”

“He’s pathetic right now,” Sam continued. “Wouldn’t you agree? He’s nothing. He’s asked to be turned into an object, and accepted all the consequences of that. Don’t you think he deserves to be abused, then? If all he is is a pathetic, whimpering thing?”

“He’s not pathetic,” Damian shot back. “He’s mine. I’m going to be there for him, and no matter how you describe it, he’s still going to get the love and comfort from me that he deserves.”

Sam tipped his drink in acknowledgement. “There you go.”

It clicked, and Damian’s need to surge to the rescue redoubled. “How much longer?”

“Everyone’s had a turn,” Sam replied, thinking about it a little longer. There wasn’t a line, nobody who looked like they were about to need the baby’s ‘services’. “He’s ready. Go to him.”

Damian all but sprinted across the room, throwing open the booth door and rushing inside.

The smell hit him immediately, and his nose all but retreated into his body, but when he saw his baby’s eyes–two enormous puddles that ran down the baby’s face when he saw his daddy–Damian no longer cared about the smell. He dropped to his own knees–they landed on the lego, (Ouch,)–and pulled his baby into a hug.

“Shh,” Damian whispered. “I’m here baby. I’m here. You can talk to me.”

“Daddy?” his baby whispered, voice hoarse. Of course it was–his throat had been abused all night.

“It’s me,” Damian promised. “Come on. I’m here.”

He pulled back, so that he could look his baby in the eye. Nothing mattered, except that his baby got what he wanted.

“Please…” his baby whimpered. Damian knew what he wanted, and reached down, pressing a hand into the front of his baby’s ruined, decimated mountain of soggy padding.

He nodded, and his baby thrust once, twice, and then shuddered and fell into his daddy’s arms, hugging so tightly that it took effort to breathe. Daddy squeezed and rubbed, just a little, adding extra sensation as his baby fought through the earthshaking climax.

“There,” Damian whispered. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, daddy,” his baby whispered.

Daddy pulled him up, to his feet. The diaper just fell off with a splorch, landing on the ground–a bit gross, but given the context, it couldn’t have been much worse than it already was. Arm around his baby’s waist, Damian led him out of the booth, into fresh air.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Damian promised. “I’m taking you home.”

He still found it hard to look at the bruises on his baby’s butt and thighs from repeated spankings, or the rash that’d accumulated between his legs. He didn’t want to think about the other asked-for torture that his baby had gone through.

But he was there. He took his baby to Sam’s shower and washed him off with warm water and gentle soap. He dressed him in a fresh diaper and clean clothes, swaddling him up warmly, and then just held him, hugging for as long as his baby needed.

He was his baby’s daddy. He would always be there for him, and always love him, no matter what.