The warm bath and the soapy suds made John feel so little. He barely heard his caretaker’s question. Though Johnnie paused, he had learned thus far in his day at Cavill’s ABDL Daycare that Mr. Cavill expected answers from him when he asked questions. Since he did not really know what kind of an answer was expected, all he could do was softly confirm, “Yes, Mr. Cavill. I’m a big boy.”
“Well, my gracious,” responded Mr. Cavill in mock surprise and he resumed his very slow but steady sudsing of his erection. “And does Daddy let you squirt, big boy?”
Johnnie could not believe his ears. Why would Mr. Cavill be asking about that? He couldn’t possibly be referring to him having an orgasm and cumming, could he? Johnnie was forced to inquire blankly,” Let me squirt? What do you mean?“
"Oh Mr. Cavill thinks the Baby Johnnie know very well what he means. You’ve just told me that you are a big boy and look what happened to your pee-pee while I was rubbing it to get you all sparkling clean. I’m talking about making sticky. Does Daddy let you make sticky out of your little pee-pee?”
Johnnie would have been embarrassed, but Mr. Cavill’s steady motion with his soapy hand up and down, up and down his stiff cock had him practically hypnotized. Would he actually get to cum again so soon after he had just done so? He finally gathered his thoughts and stated, “No. Daddy doesn’t let me make sticky.”
“No, no, that’s not what I asked, Johnnie. I didn’t ask if YOU got to make your little pee-pee squirt. I asked If Daddy took care of it when he saw you with a little stiffie like you have now.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“So do you get to make the sticky squirt out, big boy?”
“Oh no, Daddy doesn’t like it when I make messy sticky,” answered the aroused boy.
“So then…you have made your little pee-pee squirt and when it did, Daddy got mad. Did you make a wet sticky mess in your undies?”
Johnnie did not even flinch at Mr. Cavill’s presumption that he regularly wore little boy undies instead of the normal underwear of an eighteen-year-old boy. He was more concerned with the humiliating revelations about his masturbatory habits that he was so keen on hearing. He knew that there was no denying anything to him and that being silent now would probably only gets him another sound spanking. And besides, his gentle caressing of his turgid member practically made him want to talk about playing with himself—if for no other reason than to keep him engaged in this slow stimulation.
“Yes, when I came in my pants, Daddy found sticky messes and he did not like having to wash them.”
“And did you play with yourself anywhere else that made a mess that Daddy didn’t like?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, Johnnie, tell Mr. Cavill where it was and what you did. Come on…”
Johnnie found again that he wanted to talk about his masturbation in the same slow, methodical way Mr. Cavill was phrasing his questions and masturbating him while he spoke. “At night…in my bed I used to rub my pee-pee until it made sticky because it felt so good but it always made a wet spot on my pajamas and that would soak through and get the sheets wet and stained so that when Daddy washed them he could see it. He said making stains in my bed was like a baby did so he punished me by putting me in diapers and a baby outfit so that I couldn’t touch myself and he put a waterproof baby sheet on my bed so that it wouldn’t get stained.”
“Well, that’s a good idea because little boys should not be playing with themselves even when they want to make sticky. When their pee-pee’s get all hard like yours, then Daddy should supervise you while you squirt, just like he does if you are making wee-wee or poopie on the potty. Let’s get you rinsed off and then we’ll have you make your little squirt without touching yourself and without making a mess that Mr. Cavill has to clean up.”
Johnnie couldn’t believe his ears. Somehow Mr. Cavill was going to let him cum. He was so excited that he practically started to prance in place and his erection did not subside when Mr. Cavill stopped rubbing and turned the hand shower back on to rinse him off. When he was told to step out of the tub, Mr. Cavill toweled him off and then left him standing naked and now unashamed of his eighteen-year-old boner standing at attention.
Mr. Cavill brought what looked like a rolled-up exercise mat that the children must have used for tumbling games. On top of this roll he draped a polyurethane pad—like a sleeping pad, only slick. Soft but water repellant. He returned to the bathroom and got a large bottle of baby oil and led Johnnie out to his main room where this strange apparatus awaited him. He set down the oil and noted that Johnnie’s erection was starting to wane. “Oh, if your pee-pee is getting small again on its own, then we won’t have to do this. Are you still a big boy, Johnnie?”
Johnnie panicked. If he lost his erection, he wasn’t going to get to cum. He responded quickly that he was still a big boy. Mr. Cavill just gave a knowing nod and turned to get something else out of the cupboard. Johnnie did something that he had either been too afraid of or physically restrained from doing since his father had put him back in diapers at the beginning of summer vacation: he touched himself while Mr. Cavill had his back turned. He had to keep his erection without bringing himself to orgasm—because then he would know, just like Daddy knew. He thought exciting, erotic thoughts and it didn’t even strike him as unusual when the first fantasy that popped into his mind was lying on a diaper while one of his male babysitters masturbated him with baby oil. It was working…his cock stiffened anew by the time Mr. Cavill turned back around.
“Oh look here! Our Johnnie is still being a big boy so we can let him squirt sticky our special way. Is him just all excited? Does ‘ums little pee-pee feel good when it’s all hard?”
“Yes, Mr. Cavill, my pee-pee feels good,” replied Johnnie anxiously. He stared at the apparatus Mr. Cavill carried in his hand. He walked to a jar of Vaseline and applied a thick coating to its smooth surface.
“Before we take care of your sticky, we want to make sure there are no more poopies making a mess. This is a poopie plug that we’re going to have in our little bottom so that no messy poopies can come out. Now be a good little boy for me and squat and bend over so we can put it in.”
Johnnie was quick to obey. This plug didn’t look big enough to hurt and he wouldn’t mind not having to worry about having another bowel movement. With its thick lubricant, the plug slid right in. To Johnnie it seemed just like the feeling he got when one of his former babysitters inserted a finger in his anus during his bath. He liked that and this felt just the same. It went in a little deeper but it seemed to be filled with some kind of thick gel that kept it from making any sharp jabs that would hurt. At its base was a small pad that Mr. Cavill was fussing with. To the pad were attached two long strips. Johnnie unconsciously began thrusting his bottom against the plug to attain the same stimulation he got when he did so against the inserted finger in his bathtub. The gentle prodding of his prostate was exciting him and with Mr. Cavill pushing against the little base pad with him bent over for maximum exposure, the plug found its mark. Mr. Cavill happily noted his response, but busied himself with securing two straps to the front and back. Once this was completed, he straightened Johnnie up and adjusted both loops over his shoulders like a skinny pair of suspenders. Johnnie noted that when he stood up, the two suspenders kept the poopie plug riding high but gentle in his rectum. Mr. Cavill fastened a cross strap that joined the two vertical straps at his back and then repeated this with another joining strap that went across his chest. Now the suspenders could not slide off either side. The poopie plug was in place. Next, Mr. Cavill had Johnnie straddle the soft pad. Both his knees touched the floor but he still couldn’t see how this was going to work.
Mr. Cavill again asked Johnnie how his pee-pee felt when it was all stiff and Johnnie confirmed, “My pee-pee feels good.”
“No, no,” admonished Mr. Cavill. “Say it like a little boy would. Say 'Pee-pee feel good, pee-pee feel good.’”
Johnnie repeated this phrase several times. He didn’t care how he wanted him to say it because the fact was that his pee-pee did feel extremely good! By sitting squarely on the poopie plug, he was eager to add to the excitement he was already feeling. His cock was standing at full attention.
But Mr. Cavill had more questions. “Now Johnnie, what do little babies say when they are happy and having fun?”
“They say, 'Baby is happy and having fun’.” guessed Johnnie.
“No, silly, little babies can’t talk. They go "Goo-goo, ga-ga” when they are happy little babies. And you’re going to be a happy little boy baby while you make your sticky squirts. That is exactly what you’re going to be saying the whole time you’re working at making your little sticky. If you stop saying “Goo-goo, ga-ga, pee-pee dada” over and over, then no sticky for you, but a hard spanking instead.“
Johnnie knew exactly what that meant and he started to repeat the phrase out loud right away.
"What a good little boy Johnnie is being. Now the only other thing I want you to say is “sticky dada, sticky dada” right before your sticky comes, OK?”
Johnnie nodded in agreement and Mr. Cavill brought over the baby oil and spread a slippery coating the length of his stiff cock. He spread a little pool on the polyurethane pad in front of Johnnie. He left him straddling the pad and awaiting instructions while he wiped his hand clean and took up a mini camcorder.
“Now lie down on your tummy on the baby oil spot on the mat. Keep your hands on the floor and pump your pee-pee so that it rubs on the baby oil spot. Start saying what we practiced.” Mr. Cavill started a stop watch.
With Mr. Cavill’s recorder whirring, Johnnie repeated “Goo-goo, ga-ga, pee-pee dada” to provide an audio background for the hands-off ejaculation he was about to enjoy. Mr. Cavill circled with his camera to catch every angle of him humping away on the slick mat. His camera caught his straining face and he said the baby-talk words right at the lens. From behind, his spread cheeks exposed the poopie plug to the camera. With nothing to prevent it, Johnnie’s cock occasionally slid out to the side. In such a position Johnnie could produce no stimulating friction with his thrusts. He was forced to realign his cock so that it would thrust straight ahead. He experimented with how to move and how tightly to grip the oiled pad. Visually, Johnnie appeared somewhat like a male dog around a bitch in heat when he starts to mount in any way possible in order to get at the other dog. The series of false couplings requiring repeated adjustments and new maneuvers. This is how Johnnie looked as he sought a way to attack the mat that would bring maximum stimulation. How he would have loved to just take his pee-pee in his hand, encircle it right at the sensitive points and masturbate himself to orgasm as he had been able to do in the past. The forced repetition of “Goo-goo, ga-ga, pee-pee dada” was a distraction to Johnnie. It didn’t allow him to totally give himself over to the physical stimuli that coursed through his body. It prevented his mind from capturing erotic thoughts and visions and then holding them clear to savor. Instead there was a sort of blur of images and ideas that flipped through his mind’s eye.
And then he hit it. He gripped tightly to the pad, pressing it with his thighs. He was catching the sensitive tip of his cock perfectly. He was practically quivering from head to toe. “Goo-goo, ga-ga, pee-pee dada” became the mental image as well as the sound that was coming out of his mouth. The pad he was pounding (with his legs trying to wrap around) became like a big, yielding mass between his legs. It became a bulky diaper as Johnnie gasped his final “Goo-goo, ga-ga, pee-pee dada” and switched to “sticky dada, sticky dada!” and spilled his load onto the pad’s slick surface. The aroma of the baby oil that had lubricated this wonderful opportunity turned Johnnie’s last mental image into the puffy folds of a white diaper into which he was pumping his semen or wee-wee—it didn’t matter. This time it was his orgasm—not one brought on by some babysitter or other man who chose to allow him to cum. Johnnie felt like such a big boy in spite of the infantile images his circumstances had provided him. He did not find it odd that the last flash before he shot his load was of baby diapers, nor that all the while baby oil was assaulting his nostrils and exciting him nor that he was hear and thinking “Goo-goo, ga-ga. dada”. Who cared—it had been a wonderful orgasm and Johnnie now lay straddling the slick pad, content to relax and savor the wonderful feeling. Mr. Cavill clicked off the stop watch.
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