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Kim stood by his bedroom door, full of nervous excitement as he waited for the knock. Tap tappety-tap tap. “Hi!” he called, all but throwing it open before he remembered to look sullen. He sighed and slumped his shoulders, dejected. “I mean…ugh, you’re here.” Monica smirked at his eagerness, but caught herself a moment later. Her smirk vanished and she adopted an expression of uncaring boredom, as though Kim were barely worthy of her notice, the kind of look that made him squirm every time. Leaning back, she exhaled into a piece of bubblegum, blowing a bubble that grew almost as large as her breasts before it popped with a sharp snap. She’d dressed to kill, wearing a snug pink crop-top jacket that hugged her chest and exposed most of her midriff, matched with an equally vibrant latex miniskirt that clung to her thighs, heels, and even pink earrings. She looked like a barbie doll, but the kind from the song more than the playsets, except for the bulky, block-print diaper bag she carried over her shoulder. Raising her heart-shaped sunglasses to peer down at him, she spoke with a voice that had a long, drawn out vocal fry on almost every syllable. “Is there a kid named Kim here?” Kim, in his mid thirties, couldn’t be mistaken for a ‘kid’, but that didn’t stop him from nodding. “My name’s Kim.” “Cool.” Strutting past him, she looked around his room like she was sizing it up for a party. “Did your parents leave any instructions?” Kim stood up straight and shook his head. “I’m not a baby. I don’t actually need a babysitter.” Monica gave him an uncertain, apologetic look. “Um…should I actually pretend to call your ‘parents’?” With character dropped for a moment, Kim shook his head. “You’re in charge, I don’t think we need to worry about backstory too much.” “Okay. And should we like…back up to the living room? I know you really wanted the whole, ‘opening the door and seeing me for the first time’ thing, but if we’re pretending you just let me in…” “It’s fine.” He shook his head, and tried to steer his headspace back towards being pent up and helpless. Monica made it easy. When she re-adopted her persona, it was like watching Clark Kent shift to Superman. Nothing about her physically changed, but her posture shifted, sticking out her chest a little more, leaning to the side, somehow making her seem like she shouldn’t be trusted with power tools. “Whatever. I’m here to sit for Kim, you’re Kim.” Kim hesitated. Despite the awkward circumstances, Monica…stirred something in him, and it wasn’t totally unreasonable for him to ask the question on his mind. (The worst she can say is no, right?) “So…are you single, or…would you ever want to…?” She looked at him with a moment of blank confusion, before understanding the implication of his question. Her eyebrows raised, and a fit of laughter began to bubble out of her throat, first as a single giggle, then as laugh, then a half-coherent fit. “Oh my gawd, like–” she wheezed, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eyes. “That’s so precious.” Kim’s face burned and he looked away. A little piece of him tried to think how to recover the situation, but he realized that nothing he could say to come close to salvaging this conversation thread. Moving on, Monica reached down and groped the back of his shorts without warning. Kim yelped and stepped away, too stunned to complain with more than a, “Hey!” “Oh wow, you took off your diaper?” she said. “That’s dumb. What if you have an accident?” He shook his head. “I’m not a baby, I don’t need diapers.” “Yuh-huh.” She looked down at him and shook her head, using one finger to point at his whole body. “I’m babysitting you tonight, and I am not about to deal with you pissing all over yourself. I’m in charge, you’re not, so you have to do whatever I say.” There was no point in arguing, though Kim glowered for a moment. “This is stupid.” Monica ignored the comment and turned to dig through her diaper bag, retrieving a puffy pink diaper in Kim’s size. When she took it out, she noticed Kim still standing there and seemed momentarily confused. “Uh…are you gonna lie down?” He groaned, but obeyed and flopped onto his bed. Monica stepped over and slid his shorts down, followed by his tighty-whities. “Wow, good job keeping these clean,” she commented without a hint of sarcasm, tossing the underwear onto the floor. Neither of them acknowledged his erection, since he couldn’t control that part of himself. Naked below the waist, Kim blushed and stared at the ceiling so that he didn’t have to watch. “I don’t need–” he began, before a plume of baby powder poured out over him, a mushroom cloud of white perfumed dust spreading into the air. He looked down in time to see that the cap had come off the baby powder tube, dousing his thighs, his groin, even some of his stomach with the lavender powder. “Oops,” Monica said, before sliding the diaper into place beneath his hips. “My room’s going to smell like baby powder forever,” Kim complained. “Better than smelling like dirty diapers,” she replied with a shrug. Before folding the diaper up, she took a moment to ‘massage the powder in’, though her real intent was obvious as she exclusively focused on stroking his erection, teasing him until he gasped before returning to the matter at hand. When she wrapped the diaper around him, she pressed his cock against his body so that it lay against his stomach, sticking out over the top of the waistband, then secured down the tapes. “There, that’s way better.” Kim sat up and reached down to adjust himself, but Monica slapped his hand away immediately. “No! Gross! Babies don’t touch themselves.” “I–” he started, exasperated. “I’m just adjusting things!” She grinned wickedly, slightly cracking her persona, but said, “Let your babysitter do it for you.” Reaching down, she slid a hand over the tip of his cock, fingers reaching inside the front of his diaper and stroking him teasingly. Kim bit his lip and tried not to squirm or make a sound as she fondled him, delighting in how desperate he felt, before pushing him down and into the diaper so that any accidents would stay inside the padding, though it now tented out awkwardly in a way that displayed his arousal even more overtly. “Alright.” Monica chewed her gum for a moment, as though her oral fixation was necessary to think. “There. Dinner’s supposed to be in the freezer, I think, I’m gonna go start that.” Kim looked down at the floor, where his shorts and underwear lay in a heap. Sheepishly aware of how his diaper puffed out around his hips, he asked, “Can I put my shorts back on?” “Uh…” Monica began, tapping her index finger on her lower lip in a moment of consideration. “Like…no.” Without hearing a word of complaint, she spun on her heels and left Kim alone in his room, frustrated and horny without an outlet. His willpower cracked in about ten seconds, and as soon as he heard Monica moving around in the kitchen, he reached for the phone on his nightstand. All he had to type was the letter P, and the rest of the URL autofilled, adult videos popping up on his screen in a matter of seconds. It took only moments for him to forget all about the babysitter in the kitchen, and his own hand slipped beneath the rustling waistband of his diaper, rubbing desperately against his erection as the logo and a little iconic jingle for the pornography played out on screen. Tracing his thumb over the head of his cock, he– “What the–no, no!” Monica called, rushing back into his room. He froze, one hand inside his diaper, the other holding his phone as a video of two people fucking played out. “I–” “Bad,” Monica said simply, crossing the room and plucking his phone from his hands. “Babies do not touch themselves, that’s totally inappropriate behavior!” “I’m not a baby!” he complained. “Then why’re you wearing a diaper?” she shot back, digging in her diaper bag once again. It was a ridiculous question. “Because you put me in one!” “Yeah.” Monica rolled her eyes, still focused on fishing in her things. “Because you’re a baby.” There was no winning for Kim. He glowered, but had nothing else to say except, “Can I have my phone back?” Monica shook her head, and produced a plastic box bedazzled with plastic stick-on rhinestones that read ‘Toy Time Out’. The lid showed several buttons and a small LED screen, and after dropping his phone inside, she pressed the ‘start’ button, which caused a ten minute timer to begin counting down. “You can have it back once your time-out is over,” she said. “For now–ten minutes in the corner.” Kim spluttered. “That’s so stupid.” “Well, I’m in charge, so…” Monica began, as though there was no need to finish the thought. “Nose in the corner, mister. I’m waiting.” Glowing with embarrassment, Kim stood and shuffled to the corner of his room. “Hands behind your head,” Monica warned. “I don’t want you doing any more gross stuff.” Shifting back and forth, Kim laced his fingers behind his head, frustration and denial clouding his thoughts. He’d been close before she interrupted him, and that lack of climax made his punishment all the more infuriating. Monica walked away, though she left his door open, and he could hear her out in the living room of his apartment. She said something he couldn’t make out, then giggled. She was on the phone, or just talking to herself, while Kim stood in time-out. He knew he had to look ridiculous. Standing there, nose in the corner, diaper rustling every time he shifted his weight, arousal refusing to die down even as boredom crept over him. Without any way to check the time, he convinced himself it was almost done, but every passing moment only led to more waiting, more boredom, more listening to Monica as she giggled into her phone. Her voice raised, and his ears twitched as he caught some words of the conversation. “Ugh–that’s huge.” (Is she talking about–) “Nnn, I wish I could, I’m stuck babysitting tonight though. But he goes to bed pretty early, so…I dunno.” A pause, then– “Oh yeah! Sorry, how do I…okay! Just a sec.” Kim distinctly heard a zipper sound, then the click of an artificial camera shutter. “Do you like those?” He could picture her with her breasts out, phone raised, snapping selfies as she flirted. Mind abuzz, he tried to think about anything else, but it was hard to distract himself when he had only the corner of the wall to keep his company. Minutes passed, he wasn’t sure how long, until his legs were sore from standing up straight and his arms were tired. Visions of his babysitter danced in his head, posing in various states of undress, but those fantasies only made his boredom worse, desires he couldn’t act on. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he finally shouted, “How much longer?” A moment passed, and he heard Monica reply, “Uh…” Turning to glance over his shoulder, he lowered his hands. “What?” She appeared in the doorway, no longer blowing gum, though now she was sucking on a cherry lollipop that matched her lipstick. Her top was a little disheveled, and he could see her lace panties over the top of her miniskirt. “Your time-out’s been over for like, forever.” He spun on his heels. “What?” “Yeah, were you standing there this whole time?” She giggled again. “Like…why?” Incredulity made him want to shout, but he felt ridiculous standing there in just a shirt and a diaper, and he didn’t want to look like he was throwing a fit. “How was I supposed to know?” “Ugh, don’t throw a tantrum about it,” Monica said. (But I didn’t–) he thought. (I’m–) Stepping up, she groped the front of his diaper, squeezing around where his cock pressed into the padding. “Huh, okay, well you’re not grumpy because you need a change,” she said, fondling him for a little longer before she pulled away. “Whatever. You can watch cartoons or something if you want until dinner.” “Right, din–” Kim’s eyes widened. “Wait, dinner. When did you put the pizza in?” Monica tilted her head. “What? Like, whenever your time-out started.” “I don’t know how long that was.” Reaching for the plastic box on his nightstand, Kim opened the now-unlocked lid and checked the time. Over half an hour had passed. She shrugged, and Kim moved past her, waddling to the kitchen, followed by his babysitter. The smell of burned pizza filled his nostrils, and he reached for the oven door– Monica caught his wrist. “Uh-uh, babies don’t touch hot things.” She lowered his hand and opened the oven, revealing a charred frisbee of what was once a pizza, smoldering in the oven. “Uh…oops.” “Didn’t you set a timer?” Kim demanded. “Hey, don’t sass me,” she said, “Unless you want to spend the whole night in the corner.” He shook his head, aware that she would absolutely follow through on the threat. “Okay.” “Say you’re sorry,” she challenged, closing the oven door. “But–” “Say it,” she insisted. Looking down at his toes, Kim mumbled, “Sorry…” “See, was that so hard? Plus, I think there’s something else you can eat,” she said, flouncing to the freezer. Kim knew there wasn’t much in there besides the pizza, just a frozen dinner and an old, slightly freezer-burned bag of peas, but it still made him cringe when she opened it. Immediately she seized the frozen dinner and looked at it, turning it over in her hands. “Nice, I’ll have this!” “But–” Kim started. “But what? You can have these,” she said, holding up the bag of peas. “It’s healthier.” “That’s–” he spluttered. “Peas are gross!” She looked at him with an expression that said, ‘Am I supposed to care?’, but just said, “Go watch TV or something, I’ve got to make dinner.” Unable to suppress a snide comment, Kim said, “You mean make dinner again?” Naturally, that landed him in the corner again, where he spent another fifteen minutes standing while Monica struggled not to burn a microwave dinner. This time, he at least tried to count the minutes in his head more carefully, though his ‘babysitter’ retrieved him when the food was done, before the count was up. She sat him down at the table, tucked a napkin into his shirt as an improvised bib, and then dinnertime began. “Aaaand…here comes the airplane!” Monica held a spoonful of mushy, slightly grey looking peas, floating it in front of Kim’s mouth. He stared down at it, cross-eyed and dubious. “Is it supposed to look like that?” “Uh, yeah.” She looked between him and the spoon. “Pretty sure.” “Bu–” he barely managed to get his lips open before she shoved the spoon forward, filling his mouth with overcooked vegetables. Half of it ended up on his face, and he wished that all of it had; the flavor managed to be both overpowering and watery, with a hint of slime that really reinforced that this wasn’t food meant for anyone with taste buds. He screwed up his face in disgust, but Monica just laughed, scraping up some of the mashed pea from off his face, though the effort only spread it around up to his cheeks. “Don’t you like, know how to use a spoon?” She’d been the one to get it everywhere! Not only was this her fault, not only was she making him eat the mush to begin with, she was going to blame him for making a mess? Growing red with anger, Kim snapped, “This is gross!” “I did what it said on the bag,” Monica replied, as though that excused the flavor. “But, fine, whatever. If you finish your dinner you can have some candy.” It wasn’t a real offer, she was going to make him finish the food either way. The only opportunity offered by the candy was that it might wash out the taste of the mush when he was done. He looked down, glowered, pouted, but still gave a timid nod. “Alright then…” Monica said, loading up the spoon with more peas. “Choo choo! Here comes the airplane!” “That’s not even the sound an airp–” Another mouthful of mush interrupted him, and Kim choked it down, squirming his way through the bite. It went like that, unpleasant sludge shoveled from bowl to mouth, with Kim wriggling and trying to think of anything except the taste of the peas, the feel of the slime that was at this point smeared across his cheeks, nose, and chin, the teasing comments she gave at every sour face and the general state of messiness he now lived in. And, above all, he tried not to think about the pervading arousal that refused to go away, no matter how gross the entire experience of dinner had turned out to be. As the bowl emptied and Monica set it aside, Kim felt almost drunk, somehow feeling more empty than he had before eating. Any resistance he felt able to give had been eroded, all his willpower had gone to simply choking down the dinner, and there was not much left in him that could complain. “Alright.” Monica leaned over the table, reaching down to again squeeze the front of his diaper. Her touch lasted for several agonizing, teasing moments, fingers tracing circles over the bulging padding, before she said, “Wow, you like, actually can almost sorta hold it.” “Can I…” he said, swallowing to try and get the taste out of his mouth. “Have that candy now?” “Oh sure, just…first, you’re a mess, you got food all over your clothes.” Reaching down, she took his shirt and pulled it up, half blinding Kim as it got stuck halfway off his body. After some struggling, she got it off the rest of the way, and used the shirt to wipe his face clean of the pea mush she’d put there. Only then did she dig in her diaper bag for a square of chocolate, wrapped in silver foil. Kim reached for it, but instead she unwrapped it and held it up. “Aaaand…open wide!” Of course, he wouldn’t even be allowed to eat that on his own. He obeyed, and she set the chocolate square in his mouth. The quality didn’t matter, anything sweet and made to actually taste good was a godsend, so he chewed and swallowed before she could change her mind and take the prize away from him. “Alright,” Monica declared. “Go play with blocks or watch cartoons or whatever, your bedtime’s in an hour.” “An hour?” Kim demanded, shocked, pointing at the clock on the microwave. “It’s not supposed to be until nine!” Monica looked at the clock, which read ‘7:15,’ then back at him. “Uh…it will be nine?” “No, it will–” “Look, just because you can’t count, that’s not my problem.” She shrugged. “Unless you want to go to bed now?” He squirmed once again. “No…” “So, like, whatever. Bedtime in an hour.” A horrified thought struck him, recalling back to what she’d been doing while he was in time out. She just wanted to send him to bed so he’d be out of the way, so she could get back to sexting with whoever was on the other end of that phone conversation! Unless… He looked at Monica, who was taking the pause to inspect her appearance in the reflection of her fingernails. She was an idiot, but for all of it, he didn’t know if she was even capable of that level of subterfuge. He didn’t know what was worse–losing forty-five minutes of freedom because his babysitter couldn’t do basic math, or because his airhead babysitter was tricking him. Both sent a shudder down his back. Naked save for his diaper, Kim slipped off the kitchen chair, dejected and uncertain. His bladder had begun to twinge, signalling his need to use the bathroom, but he could picture that conversation in his head without playing it out. He’d ask her to use the toilet, she’d say he was in a diaper, he’d object, she’d say something condescending and humiliating, he’d argue, she’d infuriate him, he’d end up in trouble. With pleading eyes, Kim asked, “Can I…use the toilet?” She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You’re, like…wearing a diaper.” “But I can hold it!” Kim objected. “So? Hold it, then,” Monica said. “If you’re really potty trained, then don’t go, but don’t cry to me about it when you have an accident.” “But that’s stup–” –Kim found himself in the corner once again, bladder full, thoughts resolutely refusing to focus on anything except how desperate he was to touch himself. He’d earned himself thirty minutes, though he doubted that number would be enforced rigorously. Monica wasn’t paying attention, she wasn’t even trying to. He wasn’t going to escape wetting the diaper, that much was obvious. He could hold it for a while, but his babysitter was supposed to watch him until morning, and he didn’t think anyone could hold it for that long, not with the pressure he already felt. He could have held it for longer, if he’d tried, but there was increasingly little point in trying to fight against Monica’s rules. She was in charge, and she had set him up to fail. With only the corner to see his blush, he released his bladder, flooding the diaper with warmth that spread around his trembling cock. Shame burned on his face as the soggy warmth spread, saturating the padding, causing what was once dry to swell around him. There was no more ignoring it. He needed to touch himself. Glancing over his shoulder, he stole a peek through his open bedroom door, but he couldn’t see Monica watching him. Once certain he wouldn’t be caught, he lowered his hands, slid one down the front of his diaper, and began to stroke. He didn’t need long. Between all the teasing, the humiliation, and the need, he was pent up and desperate. Just a little rubbing, a little sensation, and– “Are you–oh my god, gross, no!” He didn’t make it. Before Kim could have more than a few seconds of pleasure, Monica burst in and any hope in his heart died. Monica pulled him from the corner and yanked his hand from his diaper, observing that the white padding had turned a bright yellow. “See? This is why you don’t do that–now you’ve got piss all over your hands. Gross!” “I–” Kim stammered, but she held his wrist and shook her head. “Nope. If you can’t play with your toys nicely, I’ll have to take them away.” “My hands?” he spluttered. “How–?” She had already let him go, and turned to dig through her diaper bag once more. This was…a stretch, admittedly, but too much of the fantasy to leave out. She produced a sturdy canvas diaper cover with durable straps and loops built in, and a matching pair of pink mittens. Going for the mittens first, she opened one up and held it out. “Come on, hands.” A thousand ‘Buts’ ran through Kim’s head, and he tried to decide which one to go with. “You’re already getting ten minutes,” she said. “Do you want to make it thirty? Cuz it’s all the same to me if you get in trouble until bedtime.” “Just fifteen minutes?” he asked, hopeful that he’d still have a chance once it was bedtime and he was alone. She nodded. “Well, yeah.” Tentatively, he stuck a hand into the first mitten, then did the same with the other. Monica tugged the straps on them through a loop, then clicked two locks in place, sealing them onto his hands. Then, for good measure, she held up the diaper cover. “To make sure you don’t get my mittens all gross,” she said. “Because you totally would stick them into your pissy diaper if I didn’t. I’m not stupid.” Trembling, Kim stepped into the cover, and with a few adjustments to the strap around the waist, Monica locked it as well. Taking the key from her bag, she held it up for him to see, then dropped it into the lockbox. Kim’s stomach sank as she began pressing buttons, each time producing a solid click, adding minutes to his punishment. Click, click, click– “That was more than ten!” he yelped. “Uh…yeah, I can’t make this count down,” she said, sheepishly staring at the lid. “Okay, thirteen, whatever.” She closed the lid and pressed start. “Thirteen minutes, then we’ll see if you can stop being such a naughty baby with your hands.” The worst part was, she was right, for once. He didn't have the willpower to keep his hands away, even with–or maybe because of–the warm squish around his groin that pressed into him with every movement. Another concern struck him then, looking down at his snugly locked up diaper and nullified hands. A cramping in his belly, more sudden and sharp than it had any right to be. His eyes widened. (No, she couldn't have–) Waddling to the kitchen, he pawed at the lid to the trash bin, though he couldn't get it open through the mittens. “Monica!” “What are you doing?” She asked, watching from the next room, genuinely curious and not mad. “I need to see the label from the candy,” he explained. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh shit, are you allergic or something?” Crossing to the trash bin, she opened it and snatched the wrapping from the chocolate. “What am I looking for?” Kim could see it clearly from the backside of the wrapper. Fast Acting Choc-Lax. (She's not that stupid, is she?) “Where did you get that?” He asked. “I found it in the bathroom, next to the aspirin,” she replied, calmed down now that she had ruled out allergies. “Was it hidden as a surprise?” “It's a laxative!” He yelped. “You drugged me!” “A laxative?” She asked. “I didn't stick it up your butt.” “No, but–it’s going to make me need to…” he squirmed and looked down, blushing. “Go number two.” She stared at him blankly, confused at what the issue could even be. “So? You aren't potty trained, so it's not like that changes anything.” He stamped his foot in sheer pique. “I am potty trained!” Monica snorted. “You just said you were gonna poop your pants, baby. That's not ‘very ‘potty trained’ behavior.” His stomach gurgled noisily, churning with the effects of the ‘candy’ he’d been rewarded with. He put both mittened hands over his stomach and paced, fighting off the sheer humiliation that would come if he actually filled his diaper in front of his babysitter. Checking her phone, Monica said, “Oh, and your bedtime’s in like…basically once your toy time-out is over.” That was no time at all, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to complain when he was focused on not losing the last shreds of his dignity. But– “Once I go to bed, will you still let me change if I need it?” he asked, feeling pathetic for even voicing the question. She rolled her eyes. “Nah. Bedtime’s bedtime, no cheating just ‘cuz you had an accident.” Then…he had to decide now.; Try and hold it all night, battling laxative-induced cramps, or give up, concede defeat, and at least get a clean diaper before Monica put him to bed. Given how hard he was struggling already, less than an hour after eating the chocolate, that was no choice at all. Looking around, he tried to see if he could get any privacy, and settled on waddling towards his room. “Where’re you going?” Monica asked, more confused than anything. “My…room,” he said, “So I can use my diaper.” “Uh…yeah, no.” She shook her head. “You’re sneaking off to try and touch yourself again.” “But–” “I’m not like, dumb,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You’ve been trying to play with yourself all night, and you keep complaining that you’re potty trained, so what, I’m supposed to believe that suddenly you’re just going to go poop your pants on purpose?” That was largely what he wanted her to believe, though when she said it like that, even Kim doubted himself. “I mean…yes?” “Then do it.” Monica crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited, tapping a foot. “But–” “Now, buddy, or you’ll be in time out until bedtime for lying, and then you won’t have time for a diaper change either.” She pointed one finger at his locked-up diaper for extra emphasis. “Go on, prove it.” Kim burned red, but he had no choice. Humiliate himself in front of Monica, or be trapped in a dirty diaper all night once the laxatives won. He cast his eyes down, balled up his fists, and bent his knees slightly, praying he could just teleport somewhere else and cease to exist. Instead, all his concentration and effort got him was a new defeat, surrendering to the drugs he’d been fed and allowing his control to end. Solid muck began to fill the seat of his diaper, like warm mud being poured down the back of his pants, and once he started there was no more stopping it. Monica snorted, caught herself, then began to laugh. “Oh my god,” she announced, while Kim was trapped in the middle of loading his diaper. “You’re actually going? On purpose?” He looked up and saw her in the midst of a giggle fit, and his embarrassment only flared hotter. “I–you said–” “You said you didn’t have any potty training problems,” Monica wheezed, chest shaking so that her breasts bounced with every fit of laughter. “So I guess you just wanted to poop your diaper, huh?” “No!” he yelped, though it was hard to argue when bulging, smelly mush was still inflating his diaper, making it sag as he packed it full beneath the locking cover. Monica covered her face as a shield against the foul smell, then laughed even harder. “Oh god–you really stink. Too bad you can’t even pinch your nose–I guess you shouldn’t have been such a gross baby.” Finally, the outpouring of his dignity ended, and Kim wobbled, lightheaded and barely coherent. “I…” he mumbled. “Um–” With an enormous eye-roll, Monica stepped up to him, reached down, and groped the seat of his diaper, pressing the squelchy mess into him. His erection, which hadn’t even come close to going down, only surged harder with the humiliation as she ‘checked’ his diaper, confirming what was abundantly obvious. “Wow,” she said. “I…ugh, fine. I guess I have to change you, since it’s not bedtime yet. Just a sec…” Turning, she walked away, leaving him to stand there with his diaper sagging and legs splayed, helpless to do anything about the stinky, heavy diaper he’d been trapped in. He couldn’t even fumble at the lock; without hands, the most he could do was paw at it, trying to pull it free, trying to– “Wow, you’re still trying to touch yourself?” Monica asked, waltzing back in from his bedroom. He turned a shade more red, if that was possible. “What? No, I–” “Yeah, I don’t believe you, so…” she said, before looking a bit guilty. “Uh…about the toy time out.” Kim knew what she was about to say, but still allowed the horror to creep over him. “What?” “I, uh…” Monica rubbed at the back of her neck. “May have accidentally set the timer to not be in minutes.” “Not…what?” “But,” Monica said, looking more cheery. “Bright side, I don’t have to get anywhere near that for another thirteen hours. I don’t really do dirty diaper changes normally, so that’s like…cool.” He was trapped anyway. He’d done what she said, he’d filled his diaper right in front of her, choosing not to try and hold it, and he was trapped anyway. “Ugh,” Monica continued, lost in her own train of thought. “But if you’re pawing at it all night, it’ll get super gross, and you’re too dumb to try not to…” “I won’t!” Kim’s voice cracked on the lie, both of them knew he’d still try it. Monica shook her head, then reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Whatever, it’s bedtime.” “I still have ten minutes!” “Who’s in charge here, exactly? Because I don’t think the baby in a poopy diaper gets to make any grown-up decisions.” She pulled him towards his bed, then turned, once again, to fish in her ‘diaper bag’. This time she produced a pair of velcro cuffs with clips, the kind that anyone with fingers could easily undo. Unfortunately, with the mittens, Kim was pretty helpless even when it came to a simple clip. “Lie down,” she said, moving to wrap one of the cuffs on the right side of his headboard, then mirroring the motion on the left. Kim hesitated, so she pushed him down, forcing one of his hands up to the clip. Snapping the mitten in place, she wiggled his wrist, seeing how much range of motion he had before locking his other wrist to the far side of the headboard. Standing back, she admired her handiwork. “There–now you won’t do anything yucky while you’re asleep.” Kim wriggled and kicked his legs, but all that accomplished was making his diaper squish between his thighs. He couldn’t lower his hands below his neck, he could only lay there and squirm, trapped with his yucky diaper and his thoughts. “What if there’s an emergency?” he asked. “You can’t just leave me tied up all night!” “Don’t worry about it, poopy butt,” Monica teased, removing one more device from her bag–a baby monitor, which she sat on his nightstand. “I’ve got this. If you need something, I’ll hear you calling for it.” He whimpered and gave the restraints one last tug, but with his wrists bound, hands trapped in mittens, and diaper locked securely around his waist, there was nothing else he could do. “Sleepytime, baby,” Monica said, turning to sashay out of his room, moving her hips side to side and swaying her body just to tease him a little more before she turned out the light and shut the door. Kim wriggled, tugged at his restraints, and tried humping the air just to get a little sensation through the layers of abused diaper, but it wasn’t enough. The modicum of friction he could get, squishing the front of his diaper around, was just enough to be teasing, aggravating, worse than nothing. And, as he tried, he heard the baby monitor crackle to life. “Ugh, now that twerp is finally to bed…where were we?” Monica’s voice, loud and clear, echoing through the baby monitor. “Don’t worry, he can’t hear us,” Monica continued. “He’s asleep in the other room. Did you like the pictures I sent?” She was flirting on the phone. Raising his head, Kim spoke towards the baby monitor. “Monica? Can you…I think you did something wrong.” She didn’t reply. She couldn’t hear him, even though he could hear her loud and clear. She’d mixed up the monitor, leaving the receiver in his room. That meant he couldn’t get her attention if he wanted it. It also meant he could hear every moment of her flirting on the phone, the tug of a zipper, and then the totally unashamed, blissful groaning as Monica began to touch herself. There was nothing Kim could do. His thoughts were eroded away, and the only sensations he could comprehend were desperation and degradation. Trying to hump at nothing only left him out of breath, panting, breathing in smelly air, and trying not to hump left him unable to think about anything except how badly he wanted to rip his hands free and start rubbing the front of his diaper. Monica’s pleasure only sent that need to new heights, her every gasp and moan reminding him that she was getting the pleasure he’d been denied. All Kim could hope was that, once this was over, she would be willing to babysit him again. ... Support is always appreciated! A couple bucks a month goes a long way, and my subs get early access and exclusive content! https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Hannah, a nineteen year old college freshman, was home for the holidays, enjoying the time away from exams and fraternities. She'd been babysitting for years, and when her mom told her a new family moved in when she was away, she was more than willing to pick up the shifts. See, Hannah liked to sneak the diapers or pull-ups of the kids she babysat, and use their bottles, pacifiers, and other miscellaneous items when their parents were away. It just so happened that Hannah was currently sitting on the floor in a very wet diaper and t-shirt, hair in pigtails, with a bottle of milk in front of her, unknowing that the mother of her charge was coming home early, and about to walk in the door any second now...

Aizawa Shouta was fed up with his obnoxious little brother. The man was always annoying and kept pulling stupid pranks on him to get a laugh. He decided to get revenge, see how he liked being pranked for once. He entered an ABDL, Daddy and little searching website after his brother called him a baby, and filled out a long form explaining that sissy needed a stern hand and lots of big, thick diapers. Bill also added some rules: Rule 1: Sissy is not allowed to take off her diapers under any circumstances. Rule 2: Sissy must allow Daddy or another adult to check her diapers anytime if they think she’s had an accident. Rule 3: Sissy needs to talk like a baby and never say naughty words, or else she’ll get a spanking. Rule 4: Sissy must allow Daddy to baby her at home and in public. The long-haired man sighed in relief after submitting the form, but much to his eventual dismay, he had put his own name in the form where the sissy’s name is meant to go...

Aizawa Shouta had been tired the day he filled out the “Daycare” forms for his class. There was a new section of UA opening up that the principal was surprisingly tight-lipped about, only mentioning that it could serve as a reward, relaxation, or punishment depending on the student signed up. This “Daycare” center sounded like a pipe dream, almost; why would any of the students here want to relive their babyhood? He wasn’t going to judge, but he still didn’t really understand. Maybe he was too old for this job already, but he decided while perusing the recommendations that he’d help out. Perhaps he could understand this Daycare thing better if he were one of the staff. With a sigh, he got to work filling out what he assumed were the forms for a staff member. He listed his age, name, gender, and quirk(all basic stuff), then saw an “age range” and figured it was the ages he’d be willing to take care of. He listed “1-2 years or younger” and then filled out other parts. It asked him about..diaper types, for some reason. Did he have to say which he’d prefer using on the students? Aizawa circled “extra thick” and then checked off the “locking panties required” option as well; just in case he got stuck with someone like, say, Bakugou. Then he found a few more options, asking if he’d be willing to pick from other baby rules. He did so with relative ease(“no talking fully coherently”, “no removing your diapers unless an adult is changing you”, “must allow frequent diaper-checks”, and lastly-to him, most importantly-“must be locked securely into double or triple diapers at night to prevent leaking from accidents”). After he was done, he wrote down his name again at the bottom and went to the aforementioned Daycare, handing over the form. Little did he know that those options weren’t for whomever he’d be taking care of; they were for a prospective baby to fill out all on their own, and he was more than likely going to find that out the hard way.

The idea is this: my character gets fed-up with his brother’s immaturity. When they’re left home alone for a while, he takes his chance and fills out an online form for a very strict babysitter and outlines many possible punishments/humiliating, babyish treatments for the “baby”. Unfortunately for him, he accidentally entered his own name in place of his brother’s, and now he’s trapped with a strict male babysitter who won’t take “no” for an answer.

Ann drove her minivan to the daycare center with both of her sons Dan who's just turned 13 and Austin who's 4 and is in pullups. She felt horrible about having to drop the boys off at this daycare for the summer but she didnt have any choice with her job they paired for this unlike if she got a baby sitter. So to save money they had to use the daycare.