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The Babysitter's Daughter

When I was three years old there was a babysitter named Denise who would watch me during the day. Denise had a daughter named Dawn who must have been in her early teens. On one particular afternoon with these two my life was forever altered by the manner in which I was so unfairly treated. I vaguely recall their faces now but the utter humiliation and degradation I suffered at their hands remains painfully vivid.

I waved goodbye to my mother from the window as she backed out of Denise's driveway and headed for work. Denise led me by the hand out to the backyard where a few other children were playing. I noticed that all three were girls and so I segregated myself near the back fence where the sandbox was. I filled buckets and emptied them and shoveled and basically minded my own business. The girls didn't seem to notice me. I occasionally glanced over at them, wondering what games they were up to as they giggled and shrieked.

And then a much older, taller girl came outside with drinks. She walked across the lawn to the girls and handed them their lemonades. When she turned over her shoulder she caught me gazing at her, clearly mesmerized by her beauty and maturity. I quickly looked away in hopes that she would disregard my stare. Instead she came over. I was so shy that I continued to focus on the toys as she now stood at the edge of the sandbox.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

I looked up, startled, and found her towering over me with her arms crossed and a cup in her hand.

"Playing," I said.

"Babies aren't allowed to play back here."

"I'm not a baby."

"Yes you are. I bet you're not even potty trained yet."

"Uh huh. I'm a big boy."

"No, you're a baby. Go play up there with the baby toys."

I didn't budge and just went back to my sand.

"Did you hear me, little boy? Or do I need to take you inside and change your diaper?"

"I don't wear diapers! I wear big boy underwear!"

She glared at me silently. And then she looked back towards the house before intentionally spilling her cup of lemonade all over the crotch of my jeans. I looked down, shocked and soaking wet.

"Awww," she said pitifully. And before she could even say it I began to cry, fearing what she would do next.

"The little baby went peepee in his pants."

"No I didn't," I mumbled with trembling lips, the hysterics coming on fast. I tried to cover the dark spot but she knocked my hands away and grabbed me by the wrist.

"Poor baby had an accident on himself. Now I'm gonna have to put you in diapers."

The three girls looked up curiously as Dawn led me away.

"He peed on himself like a little baby," she told them.

"I have to go change his diaper."

They whispered amongst themselves and laughed.

"Mom," Dawn practically yelled when she brought me into the kitchen, "look what Timothy did."

Her mother looked up from the dishes and squinted at the wet spot on me. She sighed.

"Honey, I thought your mommy said you were potty trained."

I tried to explain what really happened but couldn't speak, already mortified.

"Dawn, can you take him back to the nursery and put him in a Pampers?"

I burst into tears as she mentioned the disposable diaper's brand name.

"Sure, Mom. Come on, Timothy."

I tried once more to proclaim the truth to Denise but only blabber came out. She frowned and nodded at me, acknowledging my plight without consolation. I tried to hold my ground but Dawn simply swept me off my feet and carried me just like a baby down the hall, sobbing against her shoulder.

"I told you you were a baby," she said directly in my ear.

Before I knew it my back was laid across the familiar plastic mat atop the changing table. I begged her not to take my big boy underwear off. She laughed in my face as she tugged the damp little jeans and Underoos off and crumpled them on a shelf I couldn't reach if I tried. She slapped my hand away as I tried to cover my genitals.

"Aww, look at the baby's little weewee," she teased, pointing closely to my penis and lightly flicking at it.

"See, you're not a big boy, are you? Such a tiny little dick. You deserve to be in diapers, sweetie."

I tried to disappear or be invisible but I could not hide. There was no escape. I looked helplessly back and forth from her to the ceiling.

As she used one hand to keep me pinned down she reached below me and grabbed a Pamper. She unfolded the diaper and lifted me by the ankles just like a baby as she slid it underneath my bottom. I began to weep uncontrollably.

"Go ahead and cry, little baby. Maybe we'll get a pacifier for you, too."

She also grabbed a container of baby powder and sprinkled it excessively over my groin and butt. I would even smell like a baby now. Before she prepared to seal me in my Pamper, though, she found one last thing below the changing table. She unscrewed a jar and fingered something out. Then I felt her shove whatever it was up my butthole. I winced and squirmed but she inserted her finger even deeper, pushing it far up into my rectum, all the while looking me right in the eye with an evil grin. And then she grabbed both sides of the diaper securing it up to my belly one tape at a time. She patted me about, admiring her diapering job and laughing simultaneously.

"Awww, Timothy, you look so cute in your Pamper!"

I heard the backdoor creak open and quick footsteps throughout the house. I looked away, sobbing, as she lifted me from under my arms and set me on the floor.

"Sounds like the girls are back inside. Let's go show everyone what a baby you are!"

Down the hall Dawn nudged me a few steps at a time. I tried to escape the impending ridicule but every time I attempted to go back she would block my escape, until finally we reached the living room.

"Look, girls!" she announced.

"Timmy has to wear diapers."

At that point I quit crying, perhaps feeling the drama would only draw more attention to myself. Dawn led me by the hand past the taunting girls and forced me to sit down on the floor beside the couch.

"You sit there, little boy. I'll be back in a second," she said.

Then she turned the TV on and pressed play on the VCR. A Disney movie started and the girls finally looked away from me to face the princess cartoon. Dawn returned a moment later with a bottle in her hand.

"It's prune juice. Drink it."

I refused to accept it.

"You drink it, you little baby, or I'm gonna spank you!"

Before I could protest another second she grabbed me violently by the arm and flung me over her lap on the couch and commenced to swatting my diapered bottom over and over. I cried from the additional humiliation alone until the punishment grew genuinely painful and I wanted her to stop. Finally she quit and repositioned me against her arm so that she could shove the nipple in my mouth and force me to drink the baby bottle.

The girls had been watching in awe but returned to their movie once I was quieted down. I nursed at it submissively until she shook the bottle to assure herself that it was all gone and placed it on an end table.

Denise appeared in the doorway drying her hands with a dishtowel. She mouthed a question to Dawn so as not to distract the girls. Dawn responded by sliding two of her fingers past the cuff liner of my Pamper and shaking her head. Her mother nodded and left the room. But Dawn flipped me onto my stomach to pull back the rear waistband as well.

"Hmm. Won't be long," was all she said.

As the movie continued playing Dawn carried me into the kitchen and sat me in a highchair. She clicked the tray in place and snapped the strap between my legs. I sat there practically nonexistent as this forced regression continued, spent from the countless tears I'd shed earlier while being diapered and spanked. And then she produced from a drawer a baby bib with teddy bears on it.

"We don't want the messy baby to get his shirt stained, now do we?" she teased before tying the bib around my neck and smoothing it over my chest. She walked across the linoleum and opened a cupboard. She returned with a jar of baby food and a small spoon.

"We're having pizza later," she said, stirring at the fruit.

"But because you're a little baby in Pampers and we wouldn't want you to get constipated you're going to be fed prunes. Babies should have two or three BM's every day after all. ...And I guarantee you'll have at least one before your mommy gets here." She smiled broadly, lowering her eyes to meet mine.

Dawn made me eat every last spoonful of not only that jar but also nearly two more. I thought I would be sick until there was a knock at the front door.

"Mommy!" the girls shouted in the other room. Denise walked past the kitchen to meet with the parent and see the children off.

"You wait right here," Dawn told me as she walked off.

I sat there relieved to no longer be eating that disgusting food, but I soon felt a bad urge to urinate. I tried to close my legs tightly enough to prevent my weak bladder from leaking but the bulk of the disposable diaper made squeezing my thighs shut rather difficult. And what was worse, I realized, the telltale rumbling of my stomach. Please, I told myself, don't let me wet myself...or worse - no, perish the thought. There's no way I'll allow Dawn the satisfaction of seeing me go number one, and definitely not number two. I was determined to prove that I was a big boy despite the way things appeared. But my will was no match for my bodily functions. I pressed my hands against the crinkly plastic of my diaper and tried to apply pressure against my penis. And then I squirted just a bit. I began to bite my lower lip. I looked down at the white puffiness that covered my hips, seeing for the first time the infantile lettered and numbered blocks that colored the plastic covering of the diaper. I was beginning to feel like this was no mistake. The diaper, the bottle, the highchair and bib...the baby food. I was beginning to feel like I must really be a baby, as if I'm supposed to be treated this way. No, I snapped out of it. I'm a big boy. I'm a big boy. I'm a big - and I lost control of number one. The liquid escaped beyond my control and slowly saturated my diaper. Within seconds I was drenched. I peered below the tray and saw the growing yellow stain. My cheeks went red as I blushed from the babyish thing I had just done. I pouted and hung my head.

As if on cue Dawn returned.

"I was just using the bathroom because I'm a big girl. Now where were we?" She must've noticed the redness of my cheeks.

"What's wrong, baby? Are you running a fever? ...Oh I bet I know what it is." With that she reached her hand below the tray and I felt her long fingernails scratch against my inner thigh until they found their way into the cuff of my Pamper. The look of recognition spread across her face.

"I think someone wet his dypee," she said in baby talk.

"Yeah? Timothy, did you pee in your diaper while I was gone?"

I nodded solemnly and began to cry again.

"Awww, it's okay." She released the tray and unsnapped the strap.

"You're a baby. That's what babies do."

This time I instinctively stuck my arms out to be carried, almost wanting to be held now. Dawn enveloped me with a hug and comforted me with intermittent pats on my droopy bottom. She took me back to the living room and cradled me on the couch. She turned the TV on and started watching a soap opera rather than change me. I lay in her lap with the warm wetness cooling, the clamminess beginning to irritate my sensitive skin. There was apparently no way I would be allowed out of the wet diaper and so I remained in her arms until drifting off to sleep.

I awoke some time later to find myself drooling facedown on the couch and alone. The TV was still on but Dawn had disappeared. And then it hit me. As if I had been awoken by the very urge to defecate my stomach began to churn. Another wave of cramps hit me and I realized I would be pooping any minute whether I liked it or not. But I was determined to not allow Dawn the pleasure of shaming me to the extent I felt was approaching. With Dawn nowhere in sight I decided now would be my best chance at making it to the bathroom in time. I thought contrarily for a moment that it might be safer to just continue holding it, but my body's urge to have an involuntary bowel movement was beyond my choice. I needed to reach a toilet immediately. So I made a run for it, holding one hand against the seat of my diaper to prevent the poop from forcing its way out. The toilet was at the end of the hall adjacent to the nursery and I would find relief very soon I believed! The coast was clear and the house sounded empty with no one to prevent me from making it. I was within inches of the bathroom's threshold, home free, when I felt a hand seize my arm and the bathroom door was shut right in my face. I pushed as hard as I could but Dawn just laughed and kept the handle pulled tightly.

"What's a matter, Timmy? Do you have to go poopoo?"

"Yeah," I whined.

"Timothy, you're not potty trained, remember? You wear diapers. The toilet is for big boys."

I whimpered and scratched at the door desperately.

She pulled back the waistband of my Pamper.

"I guess someone's about to have an accident in his diapers." Dawn let the waistband snap back into place and smacked my hand away from the seat of my diaper. Then she patted my bottom softly. I went limp, feeling my sphincter lose all control as I began to take a dump right in front of her.

"Awww, Timothy. Are you pooping on yourself?" The seat expanded as more and more poop forced its way out all over my butt. She pressed firmly and patted some more.

"We're gonna have to tell your mommy that you need to wear diapers from now on." She laughed.

"Shhoooo! What a stinky baby. Bad boy! Mom, Timothy pooped his pants!"

I went numb with shame and could not believe the cruelty of what she had done to me. I felt like part of me died. My mouth was gaping open in disbelief with a moan that I could not begin to let out. Tears streamed down my cheeks as Dawn escorted me back down the hall toward the living room. She stopped at the couch and pressured my shoulders downward, forcing me to sit in my mess. She reached for the shelf of a nearby bookcase and plugged my mouth with a pacifier. I looked at her blankly for a moment until I started to suck on it complacently. She noticed me trying to adjust my posture so as not to compress the smelly poop directly in my crack and stood me up long enough to rotate me and slap my shitty diaper against my ass several times hard enough for it to stick to me.

"Can you change him?" Denise appeared.

"Oh, well, on second thought, that looks like his mom now." Denise peered through the curtains and headed for the door.

"Well, I would've told your mommy what you did in your diapers anyway, Timmy," Dawn said.

"I guess now she'll just see for herself what a baby you are. Come on, poopy pants." As Denise waited behind the screen door for my mother to make her way up the sidewalk Dawn kneeled down to meet me eye to eye.

"Poor baby. You are definitely not a big boy. From now on when your mommy brings you over we'll make sure to keep you in Pampers the whole time. And maybe next time we'll even take you out in a stroller. I'll invite my friends over, too, so they can all watch me change your diaper when you have an accident, little boy. Can you wave bye-bye, sweetie?"

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