Baby Baluga's Playroom

Adults-Only ABDL Blog (strictly 18+, all minors will be blocked)

[babybaluga]

The Cleaning Lady

Warning: very NSFW. Heavy ABDL, BDSM, and sissy themes.

Florence always loved the crunching sound of gravel under her tires whenever she drove up the tree lined driveway. She loved the way the sun danced through the many branches to spackle her face and bounce off the hood of her well-loved sedan. The further down the gravel lane she drove, the trees began to open up to a sprawling verdant green lawn, and a modestly sized two story mansion at the end of the driveway. Pulling through the roundabout, she parked her beat up gray Nissan next to a beautifully detailed black Mercedes, noting that there was usually an Accord here on most days as well. Thinking no more of it, she took one look up at the suburban Versailles before setting about pulling supplies from her trunk. Some gloves, rags, a mop, plenty of cleaning wipes. She checked the time on her phone. 7:57am. Just in time.

Stepping into the foyer, Florence looked around for any sign of her employer, or Allison, the nanny who she enjoyed sharing a good bit of gossip to start each visit. Finding neither, she quickly got to work hanging up her coat, slipping a pair of sanitary booties over her shoes, popping in her AirPods, and pulling on her gloves. Mop and supply caddy in hand, she set about her monthly deep clean of Mr. Michael’s home.

The first stop on her cleaning tour found Florence in the living room. Rolling her eyes, she gingerly stepped over a fisher price farm playset strewn about the floor on her way to the massive bay windows. She pulled aside the curtains allowing a massive swath of warm morning light to illuminate the room. She dusted the tv stand, a lampshade and the colorful plastic rails of a large playpen dominating most of the carpeted room. After fluffing up the couch pillows, Florence organized the various remotes and coasters on the coffee table, setting a half drunk, oversized baby’s bottle upright on the polished wood surface, being careful to dab up any of the pearly liquid that had dripped out of the bulbous nipple.

In the kitchen, Florence wiped down the countertops, stovetops, and copper pots. She did the kitchen table, the kitchen chairs, then spent the majority of her time scrubbing off all manner of oddly colored goops and bits of food from the arms and tray of a massive white highchair. She made sure to get in and around the plasticky yellow seat cushions, and the baby blue leather restraints under the tray and along the legs of the adult-sized infantile torture device.

In the laundry room, she loaded a pile of messy cloth bibs, some yellowed nursery print sheets, and a light pink bonnet and matching padded mittens into the wash. Just before she set the big machine to spin, she heard a muffled and persistent banging from elsewhere in the house that had she heard earlier she would have sworn was the work of this very washer and dryer.

She wouldn’t have to wait long to discover the source of the noise as her cleaning tour soon took Florence up the foyer’s winding staircase to the second floor. Her first stop was the guest bedroom, only in need of some light dusting due to a lack of use. All the while, the sound of pounding, squeaking, and moaning pulsed through the walls.

The guest bathroom presented a slightly more difficult challenge as Florence made about wiping down the mirror and scouring the sink of any spit stains. In the bathtub, she neatly arranged the various bottles of shampoo, lavender scented soaps, and hair removal cream. She rolled her eyes at the peculiar white hose left lazily dangling over the shower’s curtain rod. After unmounting it, she set about emptying the attached rubber bag of any remaining soap suds, and cleaning the hose’s other end of any unfortunate residue. This time, the nozzle took the shape of a quite impressively large rubber phallus which did take Florence some extra time to get fully clean. Poor dear, she chuckled to herself.

The next and last room at the end of the hall was the master suite but as Florence approached, she determined this to be source of the noise and figured it best to leave Mr. Michael’s room for later. All the same, there was some dusting to be done on the built in shelves just outside his door, and a picture frame that needed adjusting, and it was just as she reached for this frame that Florence noticed the door to the master suite was quite ajar. Unable to avert her eyes, Florence jumped at what she saw. Facing the door, against the luxuriously appointed king size bed in the middle of the room, stood a frighteningly impressive display of sadomasochistic sexual bravado. The first thing that drew the cleaning lady’s eyes were the impressive torso and rippling abs bursting out of the unbuttoned dress shirt of the incredibly fit 40-something year old Mr. Michael. His gracefully graying beard framed his square jaw as he reared back in a look of prideful dominance. Below, his muscular, rugby-forged hips pistoned back and forth as he drove his no doubt massive member back and forth into the backside of who Florence could only assume was Michael’s boyfriend turned live-in diapered plaything, Thomas. Her suspicions were quickly confirmed as Michael pulled firmly on a tuft of feathery blonde hair in one hand, forcing his charge to arch his back and raise his head out of the thoroughly swollen, yellowed, and used diaper currently splayed out, face up on the duvet. Mr. Michael’s cock was at that moment buried to the hilt in his prey’s tight, barely twenty-five year old asscheeks. Thomas’. Arms were trussed behind his back with Michael’s tie serving as a makeshift rope, the frilly back flap of his pink onesie rustled with each thrust. His legs tucked tight together, pinned to the mattress by Michael’s pounding.

In that brief moment of relief from his urine soaked prison, Thomas and the cleaning lady locked eyes. The boy mumbled and mumbled from behind his massive pink and white pacifier-gag, but Florence couldn’t be certain what he was saying with his cheeks so distended and voice so muffled. She thought she detected tears but couldn’t that have been a different bodily fluid as well? Either way, their gaze lasted but a glimpse before Michael shoved his sissy’s head back down and regarded Florence with a disarmingly pleasant, though grunt-filled “don’t mind us, dear, please see to the rest of your work.”

Several minutes later, Florence made herself busy in Thomas’ nursery, neatly arranging stacks of thick, white disposable diapers, re-stacking a set of plastic rings, and straightening a row of hanging paddles and gags. She was in the middle of organizing Thomas’ “toy chest” when Mr. Michael strutted past the room informing her that “the boy” was ready for her.

“Where’s Miss Allison?”

“She’s helping with an assignment for work. Get the boy down for his nap and meet me in my office when you’re all done.”

At that, he strode off down the hall and down the winding stairs, buttoning his shirt cuffs and re-tying his tie. Florence, meanwhile, turned to the master suite where she found Thomas, still lying face down on the mattress, spent. He had tilted his head to the side and was breathing softly through his nose, doing his best to avoid the stink of his current predicament. He stirred when he heard Florence enter the room, softly shuffling around to his backside.

Pityingly, she remarked the glowing hot pink of his recently smacked ass cheeks. Next her eyes followed the thick trail of Mr. Michael’s manhood seeping out of the poor sissy’s abused bottom, trickling over the boy’s diminutive scrotum and pink chastity cage to pool with the sissy’s own emissions in the padding of a second, equally sopping diaper hanging around his thighs that the master had clearly ripped down in his fit of passion. Carefully, Florence helped the boy up and shimmied the wet diaper back into place. With an awkward nod, Florence left for the nursery, the sissy crawling not far behind. Back in the nursery, Florence unlocked the sissy’s arms and helped him clamber onto the room’s massive wooden changing table, feeling more pity as he winced upon making contact with its padded surface. First, she unbuckled the straps to his pink pacifier-gag, giving him a chance to draw in a large breath of relief as she pulled the cheek-stuffingly bulbous nipple free. This sort of care was usually outside the realm of her responsibilities but with Allison nowhere to be found, Florence couldn’t help but take pity on the poor thing. She grabbed some ointment from a lower shelf and tenderly applied some to the red marks where the much-too-tight white leather straps had dug into the baby slave’s skin. While Thomas adjusted his jaw back and forth, Florence went to the nursery’s mini fridge to retrieve a baby’s bottle full of water which the boy graciously accepted.

He laid back and sucked greedily while Florence braced herself for the task at hand. She had changed her nephew’s diapers before. How different could this be? With a tug, she ripped open the tapes and peeled back the front panel revealing the sissy’s most sensitive areas. With plenty of wipes and more ointment, Florence set about cleaning his diaper area, paying special attention to his cage and delicate backside. Just as she was lifting him up by the ankles to slide a new, extra thick nighttime diaper under him, Thomas gestured sheepishly at the toy chest.

“Mister says I’ve gotta…”

Unsure, Florence made her way over and lifted the lid to reveal a treasure trove of devious, mostly phallic toys. Mercifully, she selected the smallest buttplug she could find and returned to the table.

Finally, after lodging the device in place and taping her charge back into his overly thick diaper with a Minnie Mouse adorned landing strip, she helped him into a pink fleece footed sleeper and a matching pair of padded mittens. She carefully helped him down off the changing table, where he promptly, albeit glumly and very gingerly, waddled his way over to the crib, knowing full well his mid-morning agenda.

He then pointed to the row of hanging implements and Florence knew what to do. She scanned over the row of gags, each hanging neatly on hooks. First was the behemoth she had just dislodged from Thomas’ mouth. Then a hook labeled “ring gag” though that was noticeably absent.

“That one please, miss.”

Florence followed his mittened hand and grabbed the smallest from the selection, another pink pacifier with a rubber nipple in the shape of a cock’s head. Thomas accepted the phallus into his mouth as Florence locked the straps behind his head, looser this time. One by one she strapped each limb into its corresponding pink leather strap at each corner of the white mahogany monstrosity, gave him a delicate kiss on the forehead, and turned out the light. The last thing she did before leaving the room was empty the nearly overflowing diaper pail, making sure to add two new articles to its contents.

The rest of the morning went largely without incident as Florence mopped the downstairs floors and vacuumed the upstairs. Finally, when her work was done, she stopped by Mr. Michael’s office as instructed, knocking timidly at the heavy oak door.

“Come in.”

The office was nothing extraordinary, though it was certainly a reflection of the fastidiousness of its owner. Diplomas and awards decorated the near wall, and a massive bookshelf spanned the length of the far wall. In the center stood a mighty dark wooden desk upon which sat two monitors, with a third TV playing FOX Business behind on the bookshelf. Mr. Michael sat at his desk and held a finger up to Florence without so much as looking at her. He nodded once. Twice. And then spoke into the Bluetooth headset on his ear.

“That’s fine. I’ll inform the shareholders on Monday. Call me back after you’ve made those moves.”

He ended the call with a satisfied grunt and finally turned his attention to Florence, peering over his monitors. A dead pause permeated the room as Florence waited to be scolded for her unintended act of voyeurism. The room was silent save for the ticking of a clock, the lowest murmur of the news, and a peculiar wet sputtering sound.

“I trust that by this point in your life you’ve learned the expression ‘curiosity killed the cat?’” He asked, dryly.

“Yes sir, of course sir.”

That wet smacking sound again. Though now more like a desperate inhaling.

“And I can trust that you’ll never share what you see behind these walls?”

“Oh absolutely sir. Never sir. You and Thomas have been so good to me, I would never.”

Michael gave a long and satisfied grunt, followed by another bout of wet gulping and heaving. He slid back an inch in his office chair and the sound of a rapid sucking in of air became all the more desperate and obvious. It was then that Florence allowed her gaze to leave the imposing presence of Mr. Michael and drift downward where she could just make out the soles of two feet, and the unmistakable plastic shell of a sagging, and very browned diaper peeking out from under the desk.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now do be a dear and fetch some of my toys from the basement. It’s Book Club on Sunday and I’d like some material for my portion of show and tell.”

“The basement, sir? You always said that was off limits, that if I needed anything I was to ask Miss Allison…”

“That won’t be necessary anymore. Let’s consider this your trial run for potential… upward advancement.” Michael rolled his chair forward again, eliciting another panicked gulp. “But remember, eyes on your work or else I’m sure I can find another job for you.”

And with that, Florence the cleaning lady turned new nanny of the house gave her master a polite nod and headed for the door.

“Closed, sir?”

“Naturally.”

By the time she turned around she could already hear his fingers click-clacking of his phone as he resumed working the phone.

“Sarah! What do you say to a little play date? Bring your Benny over. We can sit out by the pool. I know Tommy’s been dying to do a little roughhousing with someone his own size. Come to think of it, I could do with a little roughhousing myself.”

The last thing she heard as she closed the door was her master give a deep and satisfied sigh, followed by a low, muffled, drawn out, and hauntingly miserable wail sporadically interrupted by fits of gargled sputtering.

The End.

[regressionschool]

smallest spark

You can feel every humiliating piece of your captivity. The first is the weight on your head, two oversized pink bows, tied high and tight so they bob whenever you move. You can’t see them, but you can feel the constant tug on your scalp each time the ribbons sway. They’re ridiculous, childish, and impossible to ignore. That’s why they’re there, to make sure you never forget how small you’ve been made to look.

The second reminder is on your feet. The thick, fleece booties are dyed the same babyish pink as the bows, but inside, against your bare skin, tiny plastic spikes press into the soles of your feet. They’re not sharp enough to pierce, but every attempt to stand or walk grinds them into your skin, turning even the smallest movement into a punishment. The soft, padded soles give you no balance, and the spikes rob you of any desire to try. You are meant to stay still, and the booties make sure you do.

Then there’s the pacifier. Oversized, bubblegum-pink, the shield flush against your lips, the bulb is inflated inside your mouth until your jaw aches. You couldn’t spit it out even if you tried, it’s locked behind your teeth, pressing your tongue flat, filling your mouth so completely that breathing through your nose becomes the only option. Each shallow breath reminds you of the seal, the absolute silence it forces on you. You can’t plead. You can’t scream. You can only whimper into it, the sound muffled to nothing.

But the straightjacket makes the helplessness complete. The snug, pink cotton sleeves pin your arms tight across your chest, buckled brutally in the back so you can’t move them even an inch. The mitts sewn into the sleeves make it impossible to grip or scratch, your fingers trapped in soft, useless padding. Your shoulders ache from the constant pressure, but no position offers relief. The jacket doesn’t care about your comfort. It exists to deny you the ability to act.

And then… the most degrading reminder of all. The sagging pink diaper between your legs. It’s thick enough to force your knees apart, crinkling loudly with every involuntary shift. The front is warm and swollen, heavy from earlier accidents, while the back sags obscenely low, dragging against your skin with each tiny movement. The weight swings slightly whenever your hips shift, a pendulum of shame.

There’s nothing in your day to break the monotony. No comfort. No hope. No freedom. Except… for one thing. The only change, the only sensation you have left, comes when your bladder gives way. That slow, spreading warmth that blooms in the padding between your legs is the closest thing you have to stimulation. You’ve come to crave it without meaning to, counting the minutes until the next time.

You tell yourself you hate it, that it’s disgusting, but each time it starts you feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitch behind the pacifier. The flood soaks into the waiting bulk of your diaper, adding to its weight, its squish, its cling against your skin. By the time the stream ends, there’s a tiny flicker of happiness deep inside you, the smallest spark of relief in an otherwise empty day.

And you know, without wanting to, that you’re already waiting for the next time.

[my-hamster-cheeks]

For how long you can watch me doing this? ;3

[stinky-in-pinky]

Look Don't Touch

"Bouncy bouncy baby boy!" Cassie coos, bobbing up and down in time with me. Making me jiggle on the floor for her amusement. Her breasts threatening to spill out of her top with every hop. The rattle is already jammed into my mittened hands, her voice sweet and sing-song.

“Shake-shake, baby! Come on, keep the beat with Babysitter Cassie!! Rattle and babble, that’s my good boy!!”

I hate it. I hate the ridiculous toy, the way my voice cracks high and babyish when she makes me make nonsense noises for her around my stupid pacifier. I hate the contrast: me thudding on the mat in my diaper, her bouncing carefree and smug in front of me, her body on display while mine is trapped in padding. I hate how obvious it is that my eyes are glued to the neckline of her tank, where one strap keeps sliding, nipple ever so close to slipping. I try to stare at the mat, at the toy, anywhere else, but I always look back.

Cassie notices, of course. She knows exactly what she's doing. Her smirk sharpens when she catches me watching the near-slip. She bounces a little harder, and I feel myself getting a little harder.

“Uh-oh,” she croons. “Why so fussy, sugarplum? Is it your diapie?"

I squeeze my thighs together, uselessly trying to stop the cage from pinching. Drool slips down my chin before I can wipe it. The stupid numbing gel she slathers on my pacifier does this. Right? It’s not because of her. It’s not because of the beautiful 'babysitter' bouncing her breasts in front of me. It’s the gel. It has to be. It has to be!

Cassie inclines her head, putting on a pouty lip. “Awww!! Wook at da widdle slobber-puss!” she giggles. Instead of reaching for the bib, she swipes her thumb across my chin and smears the wetness up my cheek, grinning as I flinch. “Such a messy little puddle-butt! If your mouth’s this sloppy, I bet your diapie’s even worse. Let’s check those soggies...”

Her hands slide down, spreading my legs out of criss-cross applesauce, unbuttoning my onesie with three quick pops. The swollen, pissy diaper plops out as soon as it’s freed from the buttons, sagging under her palm. She presses. Rubs. Makes a thoughtful little “hmmm” noise that’s far too knowing.

“Oh goodness!” she gasps. “That line is dark-dark-blue. You’re soaked, sweetpea! But you’re used to that, aren’t you?? So that shouldn't be what the fuss is about. Hmm...did you make poo-poo’s for Miss Cassie?”

“No!” I squeak, mortified.

Her arms cross under her chest, squeezing her breasts together and lifting them high, the swell of cleavage rises as she arches a brow. “On your hands and knees, mister. Let’s check for a present.”

She makes me turn, all fours on the mat, rump in the air while she pats and inspects, humming cheerfully. “Hmm. Nope, no stinkies! That’s not it...” She flips me back around, yanks the waistband open, and peeks inside.

“Ohhh, I seeeee!!” she gasps, grinning wide. “Look at you! Poor baby’s all puffed up and swollen! No wonder you’re so squirmy!! Those little testes look ready to pop! Her fingers tug the waistband wider, giving her a better look as she clicks her tongue. “Awww! Are you achy?? Your widdle ballsies are black and blue like overripe plums! All that pressure, and not a single thing you can do about it! No wonder you’re fussy.” She prods the cage lightly with a fingertip, laughing when I jerk. “So cramped in there. Every twitch just squishes your widdle wee-wee flatter.”

Her nails drag slowly across the flat, cold metal, thin ropes of pre-cum clinging to her touch, dripping down my balls and soaking into the padding of the already soaked diaper. Cassie smirks at the sight, holding her hand up so I can see the strings glisten. “Mmm, messy boy,” she coos. “You’re drooling more down here than out of that slack little mouth.”

She tilts her head, eyes sparkling with cruel amusement. “Awww… you wanna make a goo-goo sooo baddd, don’t you? That’s what all this fuss is about. My poor wittle cwybaby can’t spurt, just leaks and leaks and leaks!! Look at those chastity tears! Every throb, every spasm, every silly little bounce just makes your cage cry harder.”

She wipes her sticky fingers across my cheek, streaking it with glistening strands, the same way she smeared my drool earlier. “There we go,” she purrs. “Matchy-matchy. Tears on your face, tears in your diaper. Just a silly boy desperate to go goo-goo, leaking sad little stickies all over himself!!”

Cassie giggles, bouncing again right in front of me, her tank top slipping low enough that my eyes betray me all over again. “Was babysitter’s bouncing getting you all worked up, is that what it was?” she giggles, eyes glittering. Then she leans closer, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Awww, I’m sowwy, piddle-pants! But you’re not the kind of baby who gets boobies. Those are for real babies and real men. You? You just get to look and squirm in your soggies.”

I try to stare at the mat, the wall, anywhere else. My eyes burn from the effort of not looking, of not giving her the satisfaction. But they slide back on their own, caught by the soft rise and fall of her tank.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Don’t look away.” She cups her chest, lifts and drops, laughing when my breath catches. “Real men get to use these. Real men get to goo-goo inside me. All you get is drip-drips and doo-doos in diapies!”

Her phone appears in her hand, the little light already blinking. She presses the rattle back into my mittens, lifts my wrists, makes the toy chatter for the lens. “Tell the camera, baby. Bounce for babysitter and say it.”

I freeze, mittens stiff around the handle, the rattle barely moving. My lips part, but nothing comes out, just a dry squeak of breath past the lump in my throat.

Cassie tilts the phone closer, her smile wicked. “C’mon, piddle-pants. Shake it. Babble for me.” She wiggles the rattle in my hands until it chatters. “Say it nice and clear: ‘I don’t get to make goo-goo’s.’”

Heat scorches my face. My neck knots. I stammer it out, voice high and pathetic: “I… I don’t get to make goo-goo’s.”

Her laugh is sharp and delighted. “Good boy! Now louder: ‘I only get to make POO-POO’s.’"

The words stick, bile rising in my chest, but I choke them out, broken and squeaky: “I only get to make poo-poo’s in my diapers…”

Cassie claps once against the side of her phone with a wicked grin. “Perfect. Now the truth about those huggies. Say: ‘All I get are drip-drips and doo-doo's.’”

I shake my head, whimpering. She bounces in front of me, cleavage jiggling with her laugh. “Eyes on me, piddle-pants. Say it. And don't forget to rattle!”

Tears sting as I croak it: “All I get are… drip-drips and doo-doo's....”

Cassie beams, turning the rattle so it clacks louder for the recording. “Awww, look at my silly baby!! Soggy, slobbery, and sticky. Tell the camera, ‘I’m just a crybaby in a cage.’”

“…I’m just… a crybaby… in a c-c-cage.”

She beams, taps stop, and plays it back an inch from my face. My voice is high, pathetic, paired with the squeak of the mat and the crinkle of the diaper, eyes locked on her chest like I’m hypnotized. I hate it. She adores it.

Cassie thumbs the screen. “Send to wifey. Send to my boyfriend. Send to the girls.” A flourish of taps, and my stomach knots.

She tucks the phone away and claps her hands once. “All done!! Now, lay back, baby. Let’s get those soggies sorted out!” She pushes me gently down by the shoulder until I’m flat on the mat, onesie open, swollen padding squishing beneath me.

Her expression shifts as she positions herself between my legs, the sweetness curling into something sly. She pinches the thin spaghetti strap of her shirt between two fingers and fiddles it on her shoulder slowly, eyes locked on mine. The elastic slides against her skin with a faint hiss.

“Do you want a peek, pissy pamps?” she lilts, bright and cruel. “Want to get a good look at babysitter’s boobies?”

My chest pounds. My balls already ache, heavy and swollen. Each pulse sending a dull throb through the tiny cage. I know what looking will do. How much it will hurt, how it’ll drive me mad. But the hunger burns hotter than the dread. My breath shudders, my head jerks once. A tiny little nod.

Cassie sees it, of course. Her grin sharpens at my hesitation. “That’s what I thought,” she coos, smug. Then her fingers hook the strap of her tank, tugging it low, lower, until with a casual shrug she pulls it down and lets her breasts spill free.

The sudden, perky fullness of them makes my breath stutter, my throat close, my cage bite down with unbearable pressure. She cups them together, deliberately jiggling, watching my eyes go wide and glassy.

“There we go!!” she purrs, smug and smiling ear to ear. “This is what you wanted, huh? Eyes glued, drool dripping down your face. Real men get to touch, to taste, to bury themselves between these.” She gives them another shake, smirking at the sound I make. “You? You just get to stare while I change your diapers and wipe down your drippy little cage.” She winks, cruel and knowing. “This is all you get, goo-goo boy! A look, not a lick. Now let's see if you can make it through a change without making a piddle-puddle!”

[tinkerkinkers]

The Right Decision.

Based on a true story by TinkerKinkers

“Ugh, where is she…?”

I sat and fidgeted with my phone, desperately hoping it would ding with an update from her. My stomach hit me with another wave of discomfort, reminding me of the desperation of my situation.

As I waited, I thought back on the 12 months prior, and the events that led up to my current predicament. If I had only been more careful… I didn’t know that she was checking my phone after I’d gone to sleep every night. I can’t even imagine the wild things she found on my secret Tumblr account. I just thought she was vanilla, I didn’t think there was any way she’d ever accept the things I only thought about in secret, let alone that she’d want to participate.

But when she came home from work early to surprise me on our one year anniversary, and found me humping a pillow in a thick, full, diaper, everything changed in an instant.

“What’s going on here?!” She said as she stood in our bedroom doorway.

My jaw hit the floor, my stomach met my throat, my ears started ringing. I’m not sure how I didn’t just black out.

“Jake, I’m not going to ask you again, what are you doing? Please explain this to me, RIGHT NOW!”

I don’t even remember those first few minutes or what came out of my mouth, but it must have been mostly gibberish, I just remember how relieved I was when she cut me off.

“Just stop. I’ve seen what you’ve been looking at on your phone, I already know. I just didn’t think this was really something you wanted… I just wish you would have talked to me about this. But here you are, on our anniversary, acting like… I don’t even know.”

She dropped her head into her hands and pulled at her hair, taking a deep breath in.

“Okay, listen to me. We need to talk.” She said, looking up with resolve now. She came and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me into the living room.

I don’t remember most of the conversation, my nervous system was in full flight mode, but I was somehow glued to the sofa. I wished to be out of my diaper so badly.

“Well if this is what you want, this is what we’re going to do, but it’s going to be by my rules. Got it?” She said, somehow bringing me back into my body.

I didn’t even know what exactly what I was agreeing to, but I swallowed hard enough to finally be able to speak.

“Wait, please, I’m so sorry, you don’t have to do this though, I can stop, I promise!” I said with a tongue that felt like a brick.

“I’ve done enough research to know that that’s unlikely. But I appreciate you saying that. Also, you’ll be calling me ‘Mommy’ until I tell you otherwise. C’mon now.” She snapped back quickly.

With that she led me back into the bedroom…

—————————

“DING” My mind snapped back to the present as I looked down at my phone.

“Hey sweetie! Sorry, work went late today, I’ll be home in 30 minutes or so. How’s your diaper doing little one?”

I furiously texted back; “Mommy! My tummy hurts so bad! Please can I use the potty?!” I was desperate. I knew the rules. I couldn’t ever touch my own diapers. I knew what she would say, but there was so much more at stake today, of all days.

*DING* “Sweetie, you know the rules. Please hold it till I get home. I really do want to have sex with you tonight, especially since it’s our anniversary. But if you mess yourself, that’s definitely not happening. I’m in the car now. See you soon love. Please make the right decision.”

My fingers couldn’t move fast enough, they felt like sticks of concrete against my phone, I knew she was already driving but I had to try;

“Please!!! I don’t think I can make it!”

*Read at 4:33pm*

No response.

I waited. I went upstairs to lay on the bed, hoping to ease some of the pressure in my gut. My tiny penis strained in its cage thinking about her. Every minute drug on for hours. Each wave of pressure in my stomach stronger than the last. It was 4:55pm, and I couldn’t hold it any more. I had a last ditch plan. Maybe if she’s distracted when she gets home she’ll just tell me to jump in the shower and get ready for dinner without even checking my diaper, it wouldn’t have been too far fetched of a scenario, it’s happened a few times before, and we were already cutting it close for our reservation. She would definitely notice if the diaper tapes had been tampered with though, I learned that lesson the hard way. There was no way I was gonna miss my chance to have sex again. It’s been a long and desperate 12 months.

I convinced myself this plan could work. I moved to the floor and squatted in my droopy diaper, I felt a gap between my butt and the soggy padding, a space that I realized was about to be filled. I prayed that the probiotics I’d been taking would minimize the smell, if so, I might have a chance at this plan actually succeeding. My legos were still strewn about on the floor where I was playing earlier, I stepped carefully to avoid the sharp pieces. I grabbed my teddy bear, happy that he still happened to be there for me, holding him somehow gave me some reassurance. Just getting into position started to relieve some of the pressure. I tried to relax and give a slight push. Instantly, it felt like I had released a soft slick submarine into the thick damp diaper around my butt. The padding resisted the push initially but my mess quickly softened and filled every bit of space within my diaper, pushing the padding even further out from my skin. I winced as I felt my shame simultaneously spread from the top of my but to the tip of my cage. Another wave of cramps hit me. I tried to breath through it. I didn’t think my diaper could hold more but I didn’t have a choice at this point, my body gave way and released more soft goo into the back seat of my already full diaper. I finally felt some relief, and exhaled deeply, burying my face further into my teddy bear…

“Oh wow….. well that was quite a show sweetie…” Her voice startled me.

My face flushed instantly at the sound of her, my heart dropped, my ears rang, the false sympathy in her tone lit my face on fire. “Oh no, please no….” I thought, “this can’t be real… How did I not hear the keys in the door?”

“Looks like someone is a stinky boy!” She said with a slightly elevated tone now.

She stepped a few feet inside the doorway and paused, hands on her hips. She saw me still squatting, knees bent, legs apart, hiding my face behind my teddy bear, trying not to move, trying not to worsen the mess I’d already made.

“Uh oh....” Her voice slightly deepening as she slowly walked towards me. I knew she wanted to see my face and make me admit what I did. She never missed an opportunity to turn me all shades of red. As she approached I could feel my pulse intensify. I was ready to say whatever I had to say to get this humiliation over with as quickly as possible. There might still be a chance to be free tonight if I complied.

She gently pushed the stuffy away from my face, taking my chin in her hand, lifting my face to meet hers.

“What happened here sweetie?”She said as she reached her other hand around me to firmly pat my bottom. I cringed and flinched as she used her palm to spread my mess even more. I hoped this would be over soon.

“It, it was an… uuhhh… accident...”

“I can see that baby boy... and smell it too.” She said with a side smile, and wrinkled nose. “Are you sure it was an ‘accident’ though?”

The smirk on her face intensified my shame. She turned and walked a few steps away from me. For a moment I thought my embarrassment was finished, that she’d release me from my stinky shame. But she kneeled down and started clearing some of the legos, making a clear spot on the floor. She lightly patted the spot she’d cleared.

“Do you wanna show me what you were building over here kiddo?” Her smile widening even more.


I was confused, what was she doing? She knows what I did, I needed a diaper change! Why did she care about the stupid legos? The realization of her intentions suddenly hit me and I started to panic a little, as she started walking back towards me. Before I knew it, she held my wrist firmly in her hand and was guiding me over to the spot.

“Come on kiddo! Let’s see what you’ve been building here!” She said as she started to kneel down, my wrist still in her grasp, forcing me to squat. I instinctively dropped to both knees when I was low enough and stabilized myself with the hand that was still holding my teddy.

“Why don’t you sit down and show mommy what you were making huh?”

My ears were ringing, I was so nervous, full panic mode.

“Oh please don’t make me do this!” I thought.

I remember wishing she wasn’t so attractive, I knew she was wearing a low cut top just to drive me even more crazy, and the mini skirt… not much was left to my imagination. I felt my pathetic penis strain against its plastic chastity cage, in spite of my overwhelming shame. By now her smile had turned into a full devilish grin and she was directly in front of me.

“I uhh… I umm… mommy I… mommy can we…”

I couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone think of a way to talk myself out of this situation.

“Stop stuttering sweetie, use your words.”

Her eye contact was relentless, I felt like she was looking right through me. It was too much to reciprocate.

“I need a diaper change mommy.” The words dumped out of me, like they came from someone else.

“You’ll get a change when I think you need a change little one, now sit down and show mommy what you’ve been working on mister!”

There was a sternness in her voice now that frightened me a little. I had a feeling she wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, but I had to try, this was just too humiliating to accept, and I knew I’d regret it later if I didn’t at least try something. I began to get off my knees, to get my feet under me, maybe I could stand up and at least distract her.

Before I could fully stand she put her hands on my shoulders and stopped me from getting up any further.

“Sweetie, we’re not going anywhere until you do what I’ve told you to do. Now sit down!”

The tone of her voice was enough to make me realize she was dead serious. Before I could decide for myself how this would happen, I felt her pressing down on my shoulders as I caught myself slightly falling, leaning back on both hands.

My drooping diaper was now inches from the floor, she moved her right hand from my shoulder down to the front of my diaper. In any other situation, I would have expected this to mean some special attention down there, and my hips instinctively thrust into her hand. She responded with a gentle but firm squeeze and pressure, causing my tiny member to throb even harder in its cage, but I realized my bottom was getting closer to the floor as she rubbed me.

She paused just as my diaper made soft contact with the carpet, I whimpered and finally made eye contact while giving my last thrust of resistance, almost as if to say “please no…”

“Shhhh…. it’s okay sweetie, be a good boy for mommy and sit down.” She said as she continued to press down

I wasn’t prepared for what I felt. The mess was much bigger than I thought as it spread even more, slowly outwards towards the front and back of my diaper. Shame washed over me and my face was burning with embarrassment. The thick mush spreading inside was sensory overload, moving into every crevasse of my underside. My tiny penis had now grown to fill all usable space of the already small chastity tube, and was begging for more room. I groaned and whimpered again as mommy’s hand continued to apply pressure to the front of my diaper, which caused me to fully come to rest on my bottom, there was no space in my diaper left uncovered by my mess. I saw the telltale brown stains inside the leg gathers that were now desperately holding on. It felt like I was sitting down but the shifting yuckyness under me made me unsure of my seating.

“Aww there you go baby boy!” She said, her tone finally softening.

I let out a few tears as I brought my teddy up to my face again. Mommy then started to massage where her hand already was on my diaper. She knew I couldn’t help but grind back against her hand in desperation. I heard her giggle a bit, surely relishing in my abject humiliation, which in turn only made me cringe all the more, yet the inner turmoil seemed to only burn hotter as I continued to squirm and thrust.

She moved even closer to me now, I could feel her warmth and smell her perfume, in sharp contrast to my now pungent odor.

She brought her face towards mine as if too kiss me, but shifted and whispered into my ear;

“You are such a good boy sweetie. You made the right decision.”

She kissed my forehead softly before she stood back up. She reached out both hands for me to grasp.

“C’mon up now kiddo! Let’s get another diaper over that one really quick, we don’t wanna be late for dinner!”

[debaucherous-mommy]

Lots of edging this morning, that leads to cummin for mommies, but only babyish bounces for my little one. He's getting so adorably frustrated! Lol. He's taking my regression therapy like a champ. I'm so proud of him. 😘 X

[hiddendl2]

Diaper check for @princessofpee 1st thing in the morning! 

[crinklyfantasies]

What You Wanted (NSFW 18+)

***This is NOT my image. All credit goes to @littlediaperpet2***

You squirmed in discomfort, trying to focus on anything other than the strangely hot, strangely cool, slimy sticky mess between your legs. You shouldn't have pushed your luck. You shouldn't have kept begging. It didn't matter that she hadn't let your baby cock out of its steel, flat, quarter inch cage in a month.

It didn't matter you cried and sobbed because of the constantly building frustration. Every time she took just a little too long to rub in the lotion or "checked your temperature" with a few more fingers and devices than necessary on the changing table. Every night spent with her wet panties hanging from the mobile over your crib, listening to her worship every man's cock that she brought into your former bedroom while your own babyhood dribbled precum and pee into the thick layers of your pampers. Every time she gently laid you over her lap and guided her full breast to your eager lips, nursing you and softly whispering all the ways her lover pleased her and the ways which she hoped others would in the future.

No. None of it mattered when you threw a tantrum, begging, demanding, screaming for the cummies you needed.

Unfortunately, she gave you exactly what you asked for.

The doorknob turned and she sauntered into the room, achingly nude aside from a long pair of ripped black stockings up to her mid-thigh.

"Okay baby, you know the drill," she snapped.

The Daddy tonight was rough on her. Her hair was disheveled, and you could just make out the red glow haloing the curve of her toned ass. Her pussy was hot and swollen, so wet you could see the sheen coating down to the rim of her stockings.

The crippling shame and jealousy did nothing to stop the clear, sticky stream dribbling from your cage. "Yes Mommy." You let out a sob and did what you were told, spreading your legs wide to show off the fat, yellowed bulge between.

She grinned and bent over to pull back the waistband of your diaper with one hand. With the other, she produced a large, very used condom, bulging with a freshly milked load of Daddy's cum.

"Here you go, sweetiekins," She cooed, squeezing the contents right into your diaper to join the loads of the other daddies from this week. "A nice cummy treat for my little fussy-pants." She wrung out the last drops and began to massage the fat, squishy padding between your legs. "Mmm. I bet that feels nice, doesn't it, honey? Does baby like his cummies? Remember, this is what you wanted." She smiled, softly kissing your forehead.

You started crying. Just like the baby you knew you were.

[wittl3sissybaby]

“He used to wake up struggling, like he was caught in a nightmare. Ohhh how he cried. It took him forever to finally sleep through the night. I didn’t think I would have to do so many 3am feedings and diaper changes, but he sure proved me wrong!

Now look at him. He still tugs on his bonds, but in a more playful way. He coos and whimpers and does all the little things that make me melt. I could probably take him out of the restraints with no issue, but I kind of like it when he’s whiny and helpless.

The way he’s moving right now tells me he probably pooped his diaper, luckily I can’t smell it through the monitor. But I can tell by the way he huffed and puffed on his paci and keeps his legs nice and wide so they don’t squish the middle. I’ll give him a little wriggle time before I go in there and check on him. But right now he just looks too damn cute!!”

[babybaluga]

A Baluga’s Morning Routine: Sitter’s POV

I let myself in the front door same as usual. Keys under the mat like every day. Judging by the missing black SUV from the driveway, Sarah had clearly already gone to work. With a cheerful determination I crossed the threshold and set about my morning tasks. 

Water for the plants, toys picked up off the floor, mail on the counter. Letters and magazines for Sarah organized neatly in a stack, and anything listed for “Benjamin” tossed straight into recycling without ceremony. On the marble countertop of the kitchen island I found a small notepad waiting for me with a few To-Dos. I rolled my eyes with a knowing chuckle. Apparently someone had been especially naughty. As if on cue, I heard a loud thud from upstairs.

I made my way towards the stairs, stopping along the way to pick up some loose blocks and a well-loved stuffy, depositing everything into a colorful toy chest in the corner of the foyer. As I ascended the stairs, the sounds of moaning and heavy shuffling grew louder, and I thought back to the chance meeting at the local zoo only half a year prior. There I was, a young grad student working on my degree in animal husbandry when I happened upon a young mother and her very peculiar… baby? Husband? Partner? The dynamic was still a bit hazy, but the pay was excellent and for a girl still finishing her last semester of college, that’s all that matters.

I opened the first door at the top of the landing and was greeted by a powerful wave of the by now all too familiar nursery scents that accompanied my current preoccupation. 

The room was dark and I almost tripped on a pile of blocks as I made my way to the window on the opposite wall, between two large, wooden pieces of furniture. 

“What I mess” I remarked, only to be met by a barrage of muffled wails and moans from the dark, squirming lump inside the heavily barred mahogany crib by the window. I opened the curtains and allowed the morning light to brighten up the room, shining directly on Benny, or Baby Baluga as I’d come to know him, lying on his back in the crib. The brat was bundled in a fuzzy brown sleeper made to look like a baby bear, and his wavy brown curls clung tightly to his forehead, wet with sweat. I noticed that he had somehow managed to kick off the crib’s thick comforter some time in the night which must have taken a lot of work considering the mittens, booties and tight leather straps tugging at every limb. 

As soon as the light hit the room, signaling that “morning” had begun, the little nuisance began to wail louder and louder. I just rolled my eyes and thanked god Sarah saw fit to gag her pathetic husband every night. From the smell he had clearly messed himself sometime in the night and was desperate for a change. 

“Pee-yew, someone’s got a poopy diaper!” I teased, prompting another pitiful bout of thrashing and muffled wails. “Too bad, though, because your mommy left specific instructions, and you’re not to be let up until after you’ve had your breakfast!”

I quickly turned away to hide my grin as I practically skipped over to the closet to retrieve the tangled mess of rubber hose and the bulging red bag of formula. I gave the bag a squeeze for good measure and found it to be adequately warm and full of no doubt nutritious proportions. I had to hand it to her, even with her busy schedule, she still managed to keep her home in perfect working order.

“MMMMPH!!” the captive adult toddler cried again, pleading as much with his eyes as with his stuffed mouth. I just giggled to myself and glided over to the side of the crib, rubber hose in hand. After hanging the feeding bag up to the crib post, I reached my hands over the top of the railing to plug the hose into the pacifier gag. Benny tried to jerk his face away but being tied down as he was, there was really no way to escape. I simply grabbed a tuft of his wavy locks in one hand, and turned him to face me so I could pop out the cute plastic button of his paci to replace it with the hose attachment which clicked easily into place.

Just as I was flipping the switch to open the floodgates and deliver Benny his breakfast, I heard the doorbell chime from downstairs.

“Oh, that must be Molly, I hope you don’t mind! She’s bringing me notes from a lecture I missed” I exclaimed, giggling to myself knowing he was in no position to argue.

“PPHHHMM-GRK!” The silly man tried to protest as the steady stream of formula—and who knows what else—made its way to the end of the tube. I sashayed out of the nursery to the sounds of desperate gulping, hoping I hadn’t accidentally left the pressure on too high but not caring enough to turn back and check. 

At the door was Molly looking bored as ever, still toting her backpack straight from a morning cram sesh. I brought her to the kitchen for some lemonade as she filled me in on all the gossip from Brad’s fraternity party last night. It sounded like a good one and my FOMO was high. I would’ve been there if I wasn’t knee deep in diapers, Disney movies and making sure this one ate all of his strained peas. 

“Can you believe I caught Scott fucking making out with Jessica in the laundry room?” Molly went on.

“One: I can, it’s not like they use that room for anything else. And two: of course he did, he’s such a slut!” 

“After I just blew him last week too! What an asshole.”

“Ugh, men can be such babies. Only see what’s directly in front of them. Speaking of…”

“Oh yeah, isn’t this that lady’s house you were telling me about?”

“Oh yeah, and she’s got a much different philosophy on how to keep her man in line.”

That got Molly’s attention. She perked up and we shared a conspiratorial smile as I lead her out of the kitchen, up the stairs and to the nursery door.

“Check this shit out,” I whispered to Molly before gently pushing open the door and watching her eyes go wide.

“No. Fucking. Way.” She was stunned. Of course she was, this whole thing was insane! But I made ten times what I made at any other babysitting gig so I couldn’t complain. Much.

“Is that-“ she began to ask.

“The husband?” I replied, finishing her sentence. “Oh yeah. Twenty four seven, three sixty five.”

“Oh my god,” she giggled rushing over to the crib side and peering down at the exhausted, and clearly quite embarrassed man bound within. 

“Oh he smells!” Molly recoiled before staring around the room in amazement. I was so used to it, it had lost some of its wonder but the room truly was something to behold. Her eyes finally fell on the massive, ornate changing table complete with stacks upon stacks of white disposable diapers and all manner of changing supplies. With a roll of my eyes, I figured it was time to get to work.

“Does he—“ Molly began.

“Use them? Goes through them like you wouldn’t believe.” I replied, while lowering the crib rails and undoing the leather restraints, helping Benny clamber out of the crib. 

I knelt down in front of him and he awkwardly put a hand on my shoulder for balance as I unzipped his sleeper and helped him step out one leg at time. He was clearly mortified but I found it kind of endearing in its own way. Any charm was immediately erased, however, as I witnessed the horrible, browned, sagging state of his extra thick nighttime diaper. Quick as I could, I stood up and directed him to the changing table with a loud “march!” giving his bulging padding a big squish as he passed.

Molly stepped aside and comically pinched the bridge of her nose as he waddled past to climb awkwardly onto the table’s padded surface. For a brief moment I could tell he was trying to keep his butt from hitting the surface, as if he could somehow avoid smearing the mess further, but I had no time for his shenanigans. I brusquely grabbed the waist restraints, pushed down on his chest and buckled him in. Even behind the straps of the pacifier gag I could see him grimace as his already crimson cheeks adopted an even darker shade of maroon.

“Okay, now hold your nose for real this time” I laughed as I undid the tapes of his diaper, peeling the front away to reveal the horror inside.

“Jesus Christ!” Molly exclaimed, “this is what you’ve been up to the last few months?”

“Crazy, I know, but it’s paying off my student loans!” I replied, wiping his bottom quickly yet thoroughly, “this isn’t even a particularly bad one. I’d rate it a 6!”

Molly peered over my shoulder to watch me work with a look of horrified fascination on her face. “Umm, what the fuck is that?” She said as I cleaned off the baby blue plastic of Benny’s chastity cage.

“An attitude adjuster” I joked continuing in a sing song voice, “someone got caught with their hand down their pants last night!”

“No way, does he get off on this??”

“You know how boys are. No, he hates it, or at least he acts like it. But this is all his wife’s doing. Sarah. It’s all a little freaky but she’s kind of a fucking boss, not gonna lie. I guess she caught him cheating and put stop to that real quick.”

“Damn, and with all of this? I mean, this is involved! She must be loaded.”

“That’s the best part actually. I think it’s all his money! He was like some bigshot financial analyst investor guy on Wall Street. It’s crazy to think he used to have a job and a future just like us but I guess someone just got a little too big for his britches” I giggled, accentuating that last point with a boop on my charge’s nose, eliciting a heavy eye roll and a low, gagged sob.

“First time I saw Sarah, she was rocking an Hermes diaper bag, I didn’t even know they made those! I don’t think she even works she just lunches and goes on trips with her lady friends” I continued as I balled up the dirty diaper and set about unfolding the new one under Benny’s cheeks. 

“Honestly, that’s sick,” Molly replied, leaning in closer. “OMG, look at this,” she said, indicating the pearly bead of fluid accumulating at the tip of Benny’s cage.

“Oh yeah that’s nearly constant,” I chuckled, “like I said, she’s found every way to control her man, or should I say little man, isn’t that right?” I gave another intentionally condescending nose boop.

“Speaking of which, could you grab me a bottle out of that fridge over there?” I pointed at a small black mini fridge near the rocking chair in the corner. 

Curious, Molly walked slowly over and opened the fridge door to find an array of glass baby bottles, a dozen in all, each brimming with a white fluid. 

“Of course he drinks milk too,” Molly chided.

“He does, but that’s a bit of a different kind of milk if you know what I mean,” I replied over my shoulder while taping Benny into his fresh new diaper. 

“No fucking way, is that…?”

“Oh yeah, you wouldn’t believe how much he produces and nothing goes to waste here, isn’t that right Baby Baluga?” 

“MMM-MMMPPPHHH!!” came the distressed, muffled response.

“Oh that’s right, paci’s got your tongue,” I giggled, as I began to undo his changing table restraints. “Mol, you wanna stay and watch me feed the brat?”

“No I really should be going!” Came her hurried response. I turned and she looked a little flush and her eyes were darting around the room.

“Oh, okay, no prob, let me walk you out.”

I removed Benny’s pacifier-gag, the massive bulb pulling out of his fat lips with a wet pop, before jamming the rubber baby bottle nipple home before he could no doubt try to call for help, as I’ve found he’s often want to do.

“Drink this and if it’s done by the time I’m back up maybe I’ll get the buzzy out for you.”

That made his eyes light up as he clumsily grabbed at the bottle with two mittened hands and began to suck gingerly at first, making a screwed up expression on his face as his gulping began to pick up steam.

I left him there still strapped to the changing table and walked Molly down to the foyer. She thrust yesterday’s notes into my hand and was gone quick as can be. Must’ve forgot something, I thought to myself. But when I got back to the nursery to find Benny still sucking hungrily at his bottle—and making the occasional pathetic gagging sound. But what caught my eye especially was that one of the stacks of diapers on the shelf below Benny’s head was sitting a little lower than usual. I smirked to myself reflecting on how it did seem like Molly’s backpack was a little fuller than before. To my even greater surprise, I turned towards the rocking chair to find the fridge door still open. Ten bottles chilled neatly in their little orderly rows.

“Oh Scott, you are in for it,” I laughed to myself as I walked over to the toy chest to dig around for Benny’s reward.

[mommysabrinalanae]

[babybaluga]

The Book Club

“Hold still, squirmy!” my twenty year old babysitter Julie exclaimed as another “airplane” narrowly missed its landing strip and the purple plastic spoon full of bright yellow mush went skidding across my left cheek, leaving a splotchy trail. Instinctively, I went to wipe the icky sensation away only to be instantly reminded that my arms were pinned at their sides by the plastic tray of the highchair, my mittened hands bound to the seat in what I considered to be superfluous wrist cuffs, their blue creating a nice contrast to the swollen, yellowish white padding encasing my mid-section.

“Sorry Miss Julie—“ I sheepishly tried to say before getting cut off by another mouthful of puréed… what was it? Carrots or squash? So many jars were blending together, and they all tasted just a little bit the same, no matter how exotic. Julie bent forward to scrape together another spoonful from the jar, giving me a perfect view down her plunging neckline at her two perfect breasts pushed together. My cock twitched in its cage and I winced as the silicone prison held firm, painfully constricting my libido. I opened my mouth to groan in pain, only for it to be filled with another spoonful.

Come to think of it, what was Julie doing here this early anyway? Why was she the one to get me out of my crib in the morning? Where was mommy? I knew such questions were fruitless. As “baby” I hardly ever knew what day of the week it was anymore let alone have the privilege to the goings-on with mommy’s calendar.

“GLRMPH,” before I could finish that thought or even swallow, Julie had forced another heaping spoonful into my mouth. Try as I might to choke it down in time, more goop dribbled out of my mouth to leaving streaks of yellow on the white Pooh Bear-emblazoned cloth of my bib.

“Messy boy,” she chided playfully, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment even as my cock twinged yet again. I hated looking like a helpless toddler in front of my babysitters. Not that I had any say in the matter. Or that there was anything at this point that Julie hadn’t seen. Still, it was one thing when it was just me and mommy. Now that more and more people in our lives were aware of, and even involved in, my unending humiliation, my status as permanent rugrat was only cementing further. Most had known me in my previous life. As Ben. Julie had only ever known me as “Baby Baluga.” A slightly pudgy, hairless-everywhere-but-the-head, adult baby boy of 28. And not that I was her type—or that anyone could have ever mistaken me for a man sitting there in an oversized highchair clad in nothing but a wet diaper and messy bib—it still drove me crazy to have this pretty young woman see me as nothing more than a baby, and a source of quick cash to pay for textbooks and trips to Cabo with her young friends, all of them living real lives with real futures ahead. They’d all probably wear bikinis, I opined, god why was I so horny? I cursed my cage. I cursed my highchair. I cursed my miserable baby life.

“Here comes the aiwpwaneee” sang Julie, spooning yet another gob of mashed up yellow into my drooling, overstuffed lips, tearing me from my pondering. I wished she would slow down! I took another desperate swallow and looked at the tray in a panic. Now two jars down. Julie was opening a third. Applesauce maybe. I hated applesauce. Plus my morning bottle of formula (and whatever other pills and powders mommy usually crushed up in there). My tummy already felt bloated and my eyes were watering at the taste.

Just then, a beautiful vision strolled through the kitchen as at last my mommy entered wearing an emerald silk negligee. She headed straight for the coffee pot on the counter, a book in one hand, and a phone tucked in the crook of her shoulder. She was clearly deep in conversation, pausing only to give a cheery “good morning” to Julie and her “baby.” I quickly swallowed and tried to reply with a cheery “hi mommy” only for it to come out as “Mm ffmmgg” as the first spoonful of applesauce entered my mouth. I grimaced at the taste and felt my stomach churn. The rich scent of coffee taunted my pleasure centers as mommy poured herself a cup. I strained to catch a glimpse of her nearly naked form as she poured.

*Gulp* I nearly gagged at another spoonful. Mommy bent over to get something out of the fridge, exposing her perfect ass and matching emerald green lace panties. I winced in pain as once again my cock tried to break free from its cage. *Gulp* another. Yuck this applesauce was gross. Wait, what did mommy just say? Something about this afternoon? And who was she talking to? My eyes followed her as she walked to the window, still gabbing away. “Ugh, bad baby, pay attention!” I heard an annoyed Julie cry just as I felt another smear of mush across my face. I hurriedly tore my attention from mommy’s conversation and accepted another disgusting mouthful before something mommy said caught my ear. Ugh, Emily was coming over? What for? Julie was already here! I was confused, horny, and full all at once. Sensory overload!

Suddenly, yet unsurprisingly, Julie caught me before I could swallow once again and before I could stop myself I was spitting up a mouthful of mush. Golden gobs of mashed up apple splattered onto my bib, onto the tray, and even a few streaks splattered the plastic shell of my swollen nighttime diaper.

“That’s it!” Julie cried and threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Hold on dear,” mommy said to her phone before turning to us at the kitchen table, “oh Julie, you know the silicone bib, the one with the pouch is in this drawer, sweetie, under the blender.”

“Sorry Sarah, I must’ve missed it but it’s too late now. I’m bringing out the big guns. Someone’s being ‘n-a-u-g-h-t-y.’” Oh god, the dreaded “naughty” designation!

“No no no!” I wailed, bouncing up and down in my sopping wet diaper, giving as ineffective of a tantrum as I’ve maybe ever thrown. This wasn’t fair! She knew I hated applesauce! Deaf to my crocodile tears however, Julie just marched over to the pantry and unhooked the dreaded rubber hose from its hanger on the door. I began to buck in my restraints, hoping to break free, as memories of the horrible feeder gag came flooding back. Nights tied up in my crib swallowing formula, mornings in the highchair choking down mush until my belly bulged over the waistband of my diapers, or the dreaded double hose punishment, wrists handcuffed to the curtain rod of my shower while I desperately guzzled water to distract myself from the painful enema swelling in my bowels.

In a panic, I looked to my mommy for help and she must have seen the fear in my eyes because next thing I knew, she was demurely hanging up her call, placing a peculiar book on the counter, and then gliding over to my highchair, intercepting Julie and her hose.

“No, I don’t think we’ll be needing that today, Julie, but thank you. My lil Benny just had a wittle accident didn’t he, baby?” She purred, bending over to scrape together another spoonful of applesauce to gently push between my pouting lips. Her lovely floral scent filled my nostrils and I gazed up at her transfixed, willingly accepting the spoon without fuss. I wished I could reach out and touch her silk nightie, feel her perfectly smooth skin and bury my face in her hair.

“There there,” she cooed, bringing my bottle up to my lips to wash it all down. My lips parted for the rubber nipple, wishing instead it was one of hers. I gazed in amazement at her perfectly round globes, pushed up in her negligee and ever so gently swelling with the beat of her heart. I was entranced.

“I think I know why he’s being so fussy,” she continued, as she reached her other hand under the highchair tray and gave the front of my diaper a squeeze eliciting a low, unconscious moan from her captive charge. She had me completely under her spell as my need swelled within my chastity cage as she kneaded the front of my swollen padding. She looked at the little calendar on the wall, “it must be someone’s time of the month!”

My eyes snapped open, ripped from my sex-charged haze, and I choked on the formula trickling down my throat. I looked up into mommy’s eyes and saw only her sweet smile. Julie, though, back from hanging the feeder gag up on its hook, had a more devious look on her face.

I knew what that meant and I feared the consequences, but I was suddenly saved, only momentarily, by the ringing of the doorbell. Mommy placed my half finished bottle down on the counter, removed my bib and gave my face a quick scrub before instructing Julie to get me down for some tummy time while she saw to her friend. I guess Emily was going to be joining this afternoon after all.

The next torturous hour went by at an agonizingly slow pace. I was finally given pants and a shirt (stretchy primary colored material that did more to accentuate my fat diaper bulge than hide it) and then sat in my playpen in the living room where Julie put on some annoying kids cartoons and popped a paci into my mouth so as not to “bother Emily” while she sat on the couch, no doubt swiping her way across tinder while my mommy got ready for the day. About a half hour into Blues Clues my breakfast came calling and I tried to find the least visible corner of the playpen to clamber into a humiliating squat. I scrunched up my face and pushed, the pressure in my bowels alleviating, as my backside ballooned outwards. I fell back onto my seat with a sickening splat. Time continued to drag on until I saw Emily wrinkle her nose in disgust and suddenly felt an invasive hand behind me, pulling the elastic waistband of my diaper back. Diaper checks were always so undignified!

Bashfully I followed Julie to the nursery for a change, grateful to be out of my mess, and later was returned to the playpen to find it surprisingly occupied! There, scooting some toy trucks around the mat was my former friend Alex, now known only as Alice, looking for all the world like a two year old girl. My mommy’s friend Deanna, Alice’s mommy, was seated in an armchair engaged in playful conversation with Emily, the two clearly exchanging the week’s gossip, oblivious to the adult toddlers in the room.

“In you go baby,” Julie cooed, pushing me into the playpen before handing Alice and I each a sippy cup of apple juice. Shyly I looked Alice over. Her straight blonde hair was tied up into pigtails and she was wearing an adorable denim skirtall that did nothing to cover the fat white diaper underneath. We exchanged charged glances, but there was little we could do but sip our juice in silence. Alice was the only other person I knew of who was forced to live like me, who understood the daily torment and frustrations of losing all control and agency over your life, but we also knew that this was no time to talk especially with the “grown-ups” right there. We were to be seen and not heard.

Quietly, we both occupied ourselves with toys in the playpen, and over the next hour, a few more guests arrived. There was mommy’s lesbian friend Amelia, looking cool as ever with her tattoos and half buzzed haircut. There was Ruby, a short, rubenesque woman of about five feet who cheerfully came to the side of my playpen to coo and pinch my cheek while I tried not to stare too obviously at her massive tits directly in my face, and grimaced once again as my cock tried to grow only to be stifled by the cage. Lastly, there was Michael, Mommy’s gay friend, dressed in a sharp looking cardigan and carrying… a book! I still couldn’t quite make it out but it was definitely the same as the one mommy was reading this morning. He gave a warm smile towards Alice and I in the playpen and took a seat in the growing semi circle of chairs and couches in the living room, diving headfirst into cheery greetings and “how do you do’s.” All the while, Julie flitted about setting up trays of finger sandwiches and pouring glasses of iced tea.

Suddenly, a footstep sounded at the top of the landing and all conversation stopped and every head turned as my beautiful mommy descended the stairs, wearing a gorgeous but tasteful sundress that accentuated her figure. I stared in awe, and heard a light plastic-y clank as Alice dropped her pacifier, mouth agape. The spell was broken when I noticed that mommy had my diaper bag slung over her shoulder, reminding me that though she was my wife, I was stuck here in a playpen, peeing my pants like a toddler.

“Hello friends, so glad we could all meet for another book club this month! Ruby dear, thank you again for hosting last time, your garden was such a delight.” Mommy held court like a pro, as she could in any room.

Once they were all seated, I finally got a good look at the book they were each holding and balked at the cover. There, seated on his fat diapered bottom, was the image of another young man looking for all the world like an oversized infant, the words “Diaper Discipline for Dummies” emblazoned in enormous font beside his pudgy belly.

“Last week, we talked about chastity and the benefits of withholding orgasm from your adult baby,” spoke mommy to the assembled group, “so today, I thought a demonstration might be in order!” I choked on my juice and felt another spurt of pee escape into the thirsty folds of my padding as I felt all eyes turn to me and Alice. My blood ran cold as I remembered what Mommy had said that morning as I sat trussed up in my highchair. That it was my “time of the month.” She meant that it was time… for my milking.

I tried to scoot backwards in my playpen wishing I could turn invisible, but Mommy just walked over, swung open the gate and gently ushered me out into the middle of the circle of chairs as Julie was laying out a soft yellow Sesame Street-themed plastic changing mat. I withered and stared intently at the floor as Mommy helped me step out of my pajama bottoms before guiding me onto all fours on the mat.

“Please, mommy, I don’t wanna…” I quietly whined to her but she just clucked cheerfully, “now now, there will be none of that.” She reached into my diaper bag and pulled out my baby blue pacifier gag. “It’s time for the grown ups to talk,” she said, inserting the suffocating rubber bulb into my mouth and fastening the leather straps around my head. She then walked behind me and out of view, and I waited in anticipation, acutely aware of the stares of over half a dozen people on my babified form.

One by one, I felt the tapes of my diaper get pulled away until the engorged padding slipped away and fell to the mat with a resounding “woomph.” I shivered at the cool air kissing my damp backside. Mommy then moved to one side of me to give everyone the best view as she delicately but firmly grasped my baby blue chastity cage with one hand.

“As we discussed, there are all forms, shapes and sizes of cages, some metal, some with spikes, some so small there might as well not even be anything there at all…” she was saying. At that last mentioned I couldn’t help but notice Alice grow bright red and suddenly pretend to be deeply engaged in her blocks.

“…but this one, I feel, suits my sweet Baby Baluga the best! Isn’t that right baby?”

I glumly responded with a muffled grunt of acknowledgment, wishing I could just sink into the floor forever.

“Now, if everyone could pay close attention, I’m going to demonstrate how you can keep your baby feeling sweet and obedient and free from any of their nasty adult impulses,” mommy sang as she reached once more into my diaper bag to retrieve several items. First came the bottle of lube, and I whined with anticipation. Next came a small, egg shaped device with a cord extending from one end, and I groaned into my gag with even greater distress. And lastly came a small glass Pyrex measuring cup which she placed on the exposed front panel of my wet diaper, lying splayed between my knees, and that’s when the panic really set in. “Not here, not in front of all of these people, please mommy!” I wanted to shout but all that came out of my stuffed mouth were the stifled whimpers of a petulant toddler.

“Hold still, squirmy,” mommy scolded with a firm smack to my exposed butt cheeks that said “there’s more where that came from if you don’t behave.” Next I felt mommy pry those same cheeks apart with one hand while inserting the lubed up device with the other. I grunted in distress as I felt the plastic invader sink further into my most intimate passage until it found its home by my prostate.

“There! Now we just flip this switch and…”

“MMMMMGGGPPPHHHH” I let out a deep guttural moan as the device in my bottom sprang to life, sending busy vibrations radiating throughout my lower body.

“And then we just leave him like this for a little while. It’ll take a few minutes before he starts producing any semen.”

“And he can wear… that? The whole time? He doesn’t have to be hard?”

“Great question, Michael! Boys don’t all have to have erections you know. No, just you wait and soon you’ll see he’s going to produce all his little cummies right through that cage, just you wait and see!” Mommy responded cheerfully.

Ten or so agonizing minutes passed as I listened in horror and utter humiliation as mommy described in excruciating detail the many methods and ways in which she had forcefully regressed me over the past year to the gasps and laughter of the assembled. I glanced over at Alice but this time she couldn’t meet my gaze. I was certain that she too felt incredible embarrassment over seeing her friend in such a compromising, and likely familiar, position.

“That’s it baby, get all that yucky gunk out,” I heard mommy coo as she lovingly patted my bottom. Quickly, I tucked my chin into my chest and the world flipped upside down as I looked between my legs in horror and amazement. I had hardly felt a thing, but sure enough there was an unending stream of pearly white fluid leaking in long, silky, gooey ropes upwards into the overturned measuring cup hanging from the floor. I whined into my pacifier gag in frustration at my body’s betrayal, watching as my manhood slowly dripped away, impotent to do anything to stop it.

“And you’ll notice ladies, and Michael, that my sweet little Benny here never achieves orgasm! The whole time! In with the buzzy and out with those naughty, naughty big boy urges.”

Another ten or so minutes passed and the vibrator in my bottom began to feel hot and uncomfortable, until finally, mercifully I felt it shut off with a click. Gently, mommy removed the egg shaped device from my bottom, slid the cup and diaper out from underneath me, gave me a loving kiss on the forehead and helped me roll over onto my back on the mat.

“Oh wow, almost a full two ounces!” She exclaimed to the room, “see how sweet and docile he is now? No more erections, no more nasty thoughts, no more creamies, just my sweet little baby and his cute wittle cage!”

Everyone applauded and the room buzzed with comments and compliments as mommy taped me back into my wet diaper that had cooled significantly in the half hour since being removed.

“Up, up!” She directed as she slid my pants back on and sat me on the mat, my legs splayed outwards, pushed apart by the wet diaper’s bulk. My cheeks burned in embarrassment and I tried to count the number of threads in the carpet, unable to meet anyone’s gaze.

Mommy reached back into the diaper bag and produced the half drunk formula bottle from this morning’s breakfast. I shuddered as I heard her unscrew the cap and my stomach dropped at the clinking of glass on glass. As mommy sauntered back around to face me, I felt Julie roughly tug at the buckle of my pacifier gag, and for once I wished I could keep the infantile soother in. To my disappointment, however, Julie removed my gag as mommy guided me onto the couch, into her lap, and handed me my now full baby bottle, brimming with a milky white substance.

“Remember ladies, in this house it’s always important to recycle!”

My stomach churned and my face screwed into a grimace as I dreaded the task before me, but I knew what punishments awaited me if I embarrassed mommy in front of her friends so reluctantly, I brought the rubber nipple to my lips and began to suck. My face soured further as the sweet and salty concoction hit my tongue, and I tried not to gag as I felt the thick liquid trickle down my throat. The room stared in stupefied wonder at the diapered adult gulping down his own sticky cummies.

“And now, Mommy Deanna was generous enough to prepare a demonstration of her own favorite method for the extraction of stickies!”

I practically choked on my bottle as Julie began to guide a now equally mortified Alice into the middle of the room as Deanna reached into her own diaper bag to produce an intimidating tangle of black leather straps and the impossible-to-mistake sight of a protruding pink rubber phallus. I took another sickening gulp from my bottle, thankful at least that I got to go first.

“And don’t forget everyone, next month’s Book Club will cover a chapter I’m incredibly excited to dive into,” I heard Mommy exclaim to the room, “cuckholding!”

[little-minimouse]

I was a bad girl🙄❤️

Gear from: @straitjacketshop

[babybaluga]

Backseat Blowout

As I sprinted down the endless labyrinthine hallways looking for an exit, I could hear the menacing click of a pair of high heels growing ever closer. Another turn and another long corridor of identical doors. Try as I might to run faster, I felt my legs grow stiff and bow legged. It felt like I was running in molasses. Damn these legs why can’t I go any faster?

*click* *click* *click*

Faster! My legs felt so slow and uncoordinated. I felt weighed down.

*click* *click* *click*

I rounded another corner and ran smack into a dead end. No, this couldn’t be it. I had to escape! Suddenly I felt a firm hand on my wrist. I tried to jerk away and—

—felt the immediate tug of my leather car seat restraints, refusing to give my mittened hand any room to wander. My drowsy eyes blinked open and began to adjust. I was in the back of mommy’s SUV, strapped in tight. I felt a dryness in my mouth and gulped hard around the massive pacifier clipped to my shirt, choking a bit on the round rubber bulb tickling the entrance of my throat. As I did, I heard the faint pitter patter of dripping liquid as drool escaped my stuffed lips to land in my lap on the plastic of my damp, swollen diaper and the fat buckle pushing it further into my crotch. An overjoyed Barney peeked out from under the strap, jeering up at me, mocking my pitiful state. I squirmed in my padded prison seat and tried to get comfortable, which proved exceedingly difficult with straps at my wrists, ankles and crotch. I glanced into the rear view mirror to see my beautiful mommy, eyes diligently fixed on the road.

“Looks like someone was having a fun dream! Did you have a good nap baby?” Came a sing-song trill from the seat next to me. Ugh, for a moment I had forgotten Emily had gone out shopping with us. Grocery shopping was always a nightmare but especially with the babysitter all too eagerly chiming in to help pick out wipes and disgusting new flavors of baby food, loudly drawing attention to the oversized toddler being pushed through the aisles. She leaned in close to my car seat, threw up a peace sign and mugged for her cell phone which she raised in her left hand for a quick selfie. Fast as I could, I ducked my head to hide my face from the camera, not that it really mattered any more.

As Emily returned to sitting up straight, clacking away on her phone, I began to squirm in my car seat, my tummy letting out a low ominous rumble. I spat out my pacifier, watching it clank into my lap still glistening with spit, and meekly asked, “mommy how long until we’re home?”

“Just a bit longer sweetie,” she purred, looking back at me through the rear view. “Unless… I feel like we’re missing something…”

My tummy gurgled again, this time louder and more violently, catching the attention of Emily who looked up from her phone with a start.

“Maybe let’s hurry up a bit? I’ve got a date tonight and not that I don’t love spending time with you and this lil cutie, I’ve gotta get home and shower!” She said with a forced cheer, playfully pinching my cheek. Truthfully, both of us in the backseat knew what was coming and for as many times as Emily had babysat me, neither of us were particularly excited for what was about to come next.

“Alright, alright! I’m going!” Mommy replied, chuckling and likely not understanding the urgency we were now under.

My tummy bubbled again and I squinted my eyes shut in discomfort. “Hold it,” came a sharp whisper to my left, “the last thing I want to do is to spend my afternoon wiping that filthy little bottom of yours.”

It’s true that Emily had changed her fair share of my messy diapers, but it wasn’t an activity that either of us relished. I don’t know what I expected the first time she babysat me, maybe too many years of porn and sexy babysitter fantasies had poisoned my brain, but I will never forget the first time she had me flat on my back, shirtless on the changing table, the cleavage of her breasts proudly on display in the lowcut neckline of her shirt, as she slowly peeled open my wet diaper to find my erect cock staring expectantly back at her. Again, I don’t know what I expected but in that moment I had given her “the look” and regretted it instantly as she just laughed and laughed, and I wished that I could sink deep into the padded plastic of the changing table. And that was only a wet one! Ever since then, I’ve hated any time she’s had to change me when messy, or when caged, or really any time at all. Not that there is any semblance of anything that I’d call “manly” left in my life, but it’s always felt more emasculating with her.

Gingerly, I looked to her and started to nod before another cramp overtook me. “I know,” she whispered again, coyly, “what if I helped take your mind off it?” My eyes lit up. She couldn’t mean… and then she was reaching her perfectly soft hand, snaking it under the car seat straps, and gave the bulging white plastic enveloping my crotch a squeeze. Immediately, my cock once again sprang to life. This was happening! Porn was right! Maybe not how I expected it, but I might get to cum all the same!

All while pretending to look ahead at her phone, Emily slowly and quietly began to massage the front of my diaper, sending incredible sensations through the absorbent padding that had me bucking gently in return. I looked down at her hand, at my fat white diaper forcing my legs apart, and at my pale legs, my feet unconsciously kicking in their socks and velcro sneakers, and if I had been paying attention, I would have seen a pair of knowing eyes looking back at me through the rear view mirror. As the wet massaging sensation overtook me and I got lost in the building pleasure, I continued to rhythmically suck on the bulbous pacifier in my mouth, and felt my eyelids begin to droop until…

“Eugh!” Came Emily’s sudden, annoyed cry, “you gross little baby you drooled on me!” My eyes shot open just as she ripped her hand away from my crotch and began wiping it on my shirt. I had been so close! Devastated over my ruined orgasm, I let out a loud groan into my paci, and just as I did, I felt the cramps return with a vengeance. Though my control these days was now practically non-existent, to this point I at least had the assistance of sitting down, but even that wasn’t going to save me now. Pitifully, I groaned as I felt the floodgates of my bowels open up and force their way into the seat of my pants. I grunted and whimpered helplessly as every available crevice filled with foul mush, and just when I thought I was done, one last cramp sent one final wave pouring out of me and pooling further up my back and throughout my crotch.

“Oh. My. God.” I heard Emily say, though I dare not look at her face. I shifted uncomfortably to assess the damage and shuddered at the realization of what just happened. A blowout. The elastic leg gathers of my diaper had browned significantly, some poop even visibly smeared on my inner thigh, and though I couldn’t see it, I could tell my lower back and taken the brunt of the damage and could only pray that my shirt wasn’t too obviously ruined.

“Everything alright back there?” came mommy’s sing-song voice, “I heard someone being a squirmy wormy!” She looked back, took a quick read of the situation, and with an exaggerated “oh my,” she rolled down the windows.

“Ugh, thanks Sarah, turns out ‘Baby Poo-luga’ can’t hold it like a big boy.” Emily said with a sneer, clearly anxious to be rid of me. “Wait, I thought you said we were going home?”

I looked at the now open window to see that at some point during Emily’s ministrations we had turned back towards the shopping district. “Mommy,” I said as I worriedly spat out my pacifier, “I want to go home, please can we go home?”

“Oh don’t be silly, I just forgot something, it’ll only take a moment, what is a big baby like you in such a rush for anyway?”

“I need a changie…” I said timidly.

“What was that?” She replied.

“I want my diaper changed please mommy!” I replied louder.

“Aww what a polite baby! But it can wait until we get there.”

“No, no, no, NO!” I started to wail and kick my feet, at least as best as the restraints would allow.

“Yeah girl, you need to get home and get this hazard cleaned up ASAP!” Emily chimed in.

“Alright, alright, see? We’re here.” Mommy said as the SUV pulled into a space in a packed mall parking lot. “I realized I had forgot to hit the pharmacy for some of the baby’s meds. Emily, sorry about the date but hopefully he doesn’t mind waiting a little longer. Can you take care of Benny in the meantime? I’ll be just a minute.”

A chill ran down my spine. I hated any and all public diaper changes but there was something especially babyish about getting changed in the trunk bed of the car, exposed to any wandering shopper. But I was desperate to get out of this reeking diaper, and it’s not like I had much of a say in the matter anyway. With that, mommy got out of the car, and with a great roll of her eyes Emily followed suit, only to reappear at my door, unstrapping me latch by latch. While mommy went to get something out of the front passenger seat, Emily set about leading me, bowlegged and delicate, to lay me down in the open trunk atop my pastel changing mat. Grumbling all the while, she began pulling supplies out my ever handy diaper bag until mommy reappeared at the trunk holding her purse and beaming.

“Right, I’ll just be a minute. Emily, you’re a dear. Benny, don’t put up any fuss for your babysitter and be sure to thank her for changing your poopy diapers mister! And Emily, maybe a little dose of this is in order to prevent any future… mishaps.” Mommy said with a wink, handing something to Emily before sauntering off through the parking lot.

Gagging a little, but with all the efficiency and care of a true professional, Emily set about untaping my diaper, lifting my ankles and wiping my mess away, while I sucked on my pacifier, looked at the car ceiling and hoped no one could see (or smell) me. And just as I began to get lost in the light breeze of the parking lot, and the simple pleasure of getting out of a messy diaper, I felt a sudden forceful intrusion at my backside and realized what mommy had given Emily. Feeling betrayed I whipped my head around and caught one last glimpse of mommy before she vanished from sight, and saw her pressing a few things on her phone.

And just as Emily was finished powdering me and pulling the front panel of the new diaper up between my legs to be taped, I felt the violating plug in my bottom spring to life.

“Ugh, you little brat, she lets you get away with anything,” I heard my annoyed babysitter say as the buzzy went to work. But in that moment, as my toes began to curl, I wasn’t really listening.

[babybaluga]

A Baby Baluga Christmas Carol

Sorry this is a little late, but merry Christmas anyway, ya filthy animals!

———

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring except Baby Baluga, all trussed up in his crib. Tightly swaddled in his red footie pajamas, mittened fingers powerless to grasp anything, little Benny tried to find a comfortable position to relieve his burning bottom. He wished he could at least rub his fat diapered rear end but the cuffs on his wrists binding him to the crib bars would allow no such reprieve. Instead, poor little Baluga had to grit his teeth around the massive pacifier in his mouth and bear the consequences of his Christmas Eve tantrum. When his mommy had informed little Benny of the guests coming over to celebrate Christmas Day, and that his much anticipated unwrapping of the many brightly colored gifts under the tree would be performed under the watchful gaze of friends, family and perhaps even strangers, Benny had lost it and soon found himself over mommy’s lap for the paddling of a lifetime. And though she had tried plugging his mouth at first with his paci, and then a foul tasting bar of soap, he kept spitting them out to proclaim how much he no longer wanted to be her baby, how he hated this treatment, and how he vowed to escape. A hundred spanks with mommy’s best paddle—the strong oak one with the holes for speed—and an especially long cry later, we found our embattled hero writhing in his crib, attempting to scream around his larger-than-usual pacifier gag in hopes Saint Nicholas would be there to save him from this life. And then he heard a sound. Faint at first, but suddenly his baby monitor atop the dresser crackled to life. An eerie anticipation began to fill the room.

“Mommy?” The boy wanted to say, though it came out more like “mmfmm?” Silence followed and then, a strange voice, one Benny had never heard before, creaked over the intercom, “expect the first ghost when the bell tolls one.” As the voice and static faded away into nothing, Benny felt a warmth slowly envelope his crotch. He had peed himself from fright. Ghost? Who was this person, what did they mean? He tried to call back but to no avail. One? That was hours from now, he hadn’t seen the clock but mommy usually put him down by eight!

The fitful sleep continued, and every hour he would hear the grandfather clock in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs make it’s presence—and Benny’s impending sentence—known until finally the dreaded solo dong echoed throughout the house rattling the bars of Benny’s crib. In dread anticipation, he waited. The silence and the darkness working together in an agonizing tandem. Benny twisted and squelched in his diaper hoping to hear something but not use. And just when he could wait no longer, a perky voice sounded from beside his head.

“Hi there little guy!” Benny whipped his eyes around to see a cuddly brown teddy bear standing on his crib mattress beside his head. Benny choked in astonishment. “Looks like someone’s been a bad boy! I’m the ghost of Christmas past. I’m here to show you how things used to be.” And with that the bear reached out two fuzzy arms and took Benny by the mitten. In a flash, Benny found himself standing in another room beside the strange doll. He was surprised to see he was still wearing the footed sleeper, and rolled his eyes to still feel the obvious presence of his thick nighttime diaper. That said, he was relieved to finally stretch out his jaw and feel the loss of the suffocating gag. After taking stock of himself, Benny looked around the room. Though it was dark, clearly late at night, Benny could make out filing cabinets, a prize fish mounted on the wall, shelves of accolades and small trinkets and toys, and in the corner a large wraparound oak desk. It was a home office, Benny noted, and then with a sudden sick feeling he realized he wasn’t in some different room at all, this was the same room! His nursery only a year before.

“Recognize this room?” The stuffed animal asked. “Yes spirit,” Benny replied. “and recognize him?” Benny looked back at the desk to see the office chair now occupied by a man. A man none other than himself. Though he knew this version of himself was younger, the man before him looked so much older somehow. Benny cautiously approached the chair and recoiled at what he saw. In the blue glow of the computer screen light, in the dark office at midnight, he was messaging his secretary. Exchanging titillating messages and plans for a rendezvous. “Please spirit, why show this to me? Don’t make me relive this again.”

In a flash the room went through several quick changes. In a dramatic time lapse, Benny looked on in horror and deep regret as he watched his wife going through those same messages, heartbreak on her face, followed by the two of them shouting at each other, tears flying, and then piece by piece furniture disappearing, plaques coming off the walls, the burgundy curtains changing to soft linen, a wooden crib assembling itself before Benny’s eyes, the sturdy oak changing table plopping into place, stacks of white diapers piling high, a diaper pail, the rocking chair, the striped bass vanishing only to be replaced by a series of hooks with paddles, gags, and various restraints appearing out of thin air to adorn each one.

“Please spirit, take me away from here!” Benny cried with despair. “I will, but only because it is my time. You have much more to see,” replied the bear solemnly. And with a flash, Benny found himself alone in his nursery, bewildered and nearly broken. Slowly, the door creaked open, and Benny heard a warm giggle emanate from downstairs. Curious, Benny poked his head out and heard the giggles growing louder. Nervously, he began to descend the stairs, his wet diaper rustling and squelching with each clumsy step. Though it was pre-dawn, there was a clear light coming from the kitchen and as Benny entered his eyes went wide. There, by the dining table, sat two high chairs piled high with jars of baby food and plastic bowls of cut up hot dogs and mac & cheese. Atop one high chair sat a beautiful young woman, naked save for a bulging white diaper, her perky breasts barely concealed by a messy red bib adorned with the image of a Christmas tree. Packages of diapers, dozens of them, formed a throne like mountain behind her chair.

“Come in, and know me better, baby!” She proclaimed. “I am the ghost of Christmas present, come in and know me better!” Timidly, Benny waddled into the kitchen light until what felt like a magical gust of wind pushed him forward, stumbling into the seat of the open high chair, facing the bubbly adult baby girl.

“Please spirit, haven’t I suffered enough?” bemoaned our poor Baby Baluga.

“Suffered? But what is there to suffer? Eat! Drink! Be merry with me!”

Benny looked down at his Bluey themed plate and baby bottle of chocolate milk, and then back at the young woman as she plunged an uncoordinated hand into her mac & cheese only to bring a fist full of the bright orange noodles to her mouth, smearing cheese all over her chubby cheeks. Benny demurred, but reluctantly followed suit and his eyes lit up. It was good! The best he had ever tasted, and far better than the “turkey & gravy” and “pot roast” jars of gerber baby mush he had been forced to swallow before his late night paddling. His reverie was interrupted by a sloppy smack as a gob of mac slapped off his forehead.

“Tee hee hee” giggled the ghost as she kicked her legs in glee. Benny grinned and tossed a handful of hot dog pieces back. Soon they were lost in the joyful food fight until a sudden look of concern and concentration took over her face. A wet gurgling filled the room and she was at peace again. Benny wrinkled his nose and gagged at the familiar smell. And then the cramping hit his gut in turn. He looked at her in dismay, betrayed. Had she spiked his food??

“Go ahead! Join me! It’s icky and mushy and fun!” She giggled. Though he had messed himself many many times over the last year, Benny still hated the sensation, and would never perform the act willingly. But when another strong cramp wracked his gut, he had no choice. Reluctantly, he screwed his eyes shut, pushed down on the tray of his high chair, raised his diapered behind up off the seat, and let go. Like an uncorked champagne bottle, he felt the flow of mush pour out of his bottom, filling every crease and pocket of space, bulging his fat diapered seat outwards followed by another steady stream of urine as his bladder once again emptied. Finally relieved of the pressure, Benny lowered his bottom back down and opened his eyes in surprise as his full diaper hit a familiar soft, crinkly plastic covered padding and even as his mushy mess spread further, coating his hairless crotch in that all-too-familiar icky feeling, he marveled to see that he was back in his nursery, sitting atop his changing table. The nearly naked rubenesque girl stood at the end, between his legs grinning mischievously. She gave his chest a firm push and as his back hit the rest of the changing table padding, Benny heard a click and low buzzing. When the vibrating wand graced the outside of his soaked and messy diaper, Benny felt his cock spring to life.

“See Baby Baluga? Being a baby can be so fun! No adult worries or responsibilities. Hungry? You will be fed. Wet? You will be changed. Just have fun with it!” And as she spoke about all the joys of babyhood, Benny felt himself surrender to the moment, his cock erupting with ecstasy, his cummies painting the inside of his mess of a diaper, his head falling back into the changing table with bliss. “Sleep now, sweet Baluga, for when you wake, the ghost of Christmas Future will be come.”

His head swimming, Benny could hardly concentrate on the young lady’s words, but as his euphoria subsided, and his eyes slowly began to flutter open, Benny found himself not on his changing table in his nursery with a beaming fellow adult baby between his splayed feet. Instead he looked around and found himself alone. On a cot, in the cold, sterile room that used to be his office. He looked at his bare chest, growing cold and uncomfortable, splattered with his own sticky emissions. Looking down, he saw his cock in his hand, no longer diapered. Had it all been a terrible dream? Was he finally awake? And free? Was he finally his own man again?

As he pondered, however, Baby Baluga was overtaken by the sudden sensation that he was not in fact alone. Slowly, he scanned the darkness of his former nursery, and from the shadows of the corner that had previously occupied his spanking chair, emerged a figure. Dark, slightly hunched, and with an air of palpable menace. Ever so slowly, a man in dark glasses and gray suit materialized into Benny’s vision, step by agonizing step.

“Are you the ghost of Christmas Future who’s coming was foretold?” Benny asked with great trepidation. But no answer came. Slowly the man extended a hand, grasping a stack of papers. Nervously, Benny reached forward to take the offered documents, wishing to whatever god would listen that he wasn’t covered in cum right then. Slowly, he took the documents and then looked back at the ghost.

“Please spirit, please don’t make me read these.” Again to no response. “Please, I’m afraid of what I might see though I think I already know.” To no avail. Reluctantly he looked at the pages in his hand and quickly tore them from sight. Divorce papers. “Please spirit, show me no more.” Again unspeaking, the suited man pointed a crooked finger at the office door, now slowly creaking ajar of its own accord. Full of dread, Benny stood up, pulled up the pair of sweatpants balled around his ankles, and pathetically wiped the cum off of his hand before taking a cautious step towards the door.

Once through, he saw nothing but blackness before him, but felt a soft glow at his back. He turned to see the office door once again closed, but a warm light emanating from under the door jam. After a moments hesitation, he felt a cold hand on his shoulder and turned to see the grim man standing just behind him, urging him forward. Slowly, Benny turned the knob and once again saw his nursery before him, but this time he was not alone. There in the corner he saw none other than his beautiful mommy, and he wanted nothing more than to rush into her strong, comforting embrace, but the sight before him gave him pause. There, in her lap, lay… himself! Diaper bunched up down around his knees, a bubbling bar of soap on the floor by his head, a large bite mark taken out of it.

“I HATE BEING YOUR BABY! I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANY MORE!” Benny heard himself scream, and he recoiled and felt his heart sink at the look he saw fall over his mommy’s face. He saw then what he couldn’t have seen lying atop her lap, a look of profound sadness.

“No…” Benny softly whispered. The version before him then began to stand, push himself off of his mommy, and angrily rip the diaper off of his legs. “No!” our poor Baby Baluga tried to shout, wishing he could intervene. Yet as the other Benny began to march toward the door he coldly uttered the words “we’re through.”

“Please no, don’t do this!” Baby Baluga cried with all of the desperation he could muster, as this other version of himself pushed right past him and through the door. Leaving his mommy alone in their nursery, heartbroken.

“Please spirit,” Benny sobbed, “please tell me that this is only the future as it could be but not as it must be!” The suited man only stared, cold and unmoving. “Please, I want to go back, please send me back, I’ll be good, I’ll be her baby, I’ll do whatever it takes!” And as he reached for the man’s lapels, Benny felt not the sharkskin of a suit, but the lacquered wood of his crib.

Amazed, Benny looked around to see that he was once again in the warm embrace of his nursery and red footie pajamas. He shifted in his seat and felt the uncomfortable squelch of a load in his pants and the sticky, goopy feeling in the front of his diaper, the telltale sign of another wet dream. Slowly, the nursery door creaked open once more and Benny backed away into the corner of his crib in frightful anticipation, fearing what specter may next haunt his cribside… until a tuft of flowing brown hair emerged, and the love of his life stepped through the door.

“MOMMY!” Benny tried to shout, only once again it came out as “MMFMM!” But he didn’t care. Cheerfully, she sauntered up to the crib, dropped the sides and set about unbuckling the pacifier-gag, pulling the fat rubber bulb out of his mouth with a satisfying plop.

“Mommy,” Baby Baluga cried once more, “what day is it?”

“Why it’s Christmas, silly!” She smiled, booping him on the nose. “C’mon baby, let’s get you out of this stinky diapee and then we can go open presents, how does that sound?”

Benny knew what kind of presents awaited him. Baby toys, spanking implements, no doubt a new butt plug or a cage for his cock, maybe a coloring book if he was lucky, but for one morning at least, he didn’t care. He didn’t even care that guests were coming, guests who could see his diapers, see how he now lived, who could further humiliate him or revel in his torment. As his mommy led him bowlegged and stumbling to the changing table, Baby Baluga was just happy to be his mommy’s baby.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

[plenkar30]

Bound to bed so mommy can play.

[averagediaperdependantboy]

One day at the time. After a while these restraints won't be necessary.

[lolita-in-the-mist]

[daddycrue2]