From Party Pooper to Diaper Pooper – Chapter Eight (Commission)

Thanks to our great Gold-tier patron Bondagediaperlover93 for commissioning this latest chapter!

***

Exactly the same as taking care of a big toddler, she'd said. Nothing to it, she'd said. You know, maybe I was a bit skeptical of Jessica's bubbly optimism about this whole thing. But now that I've been here a few days, I can't deny that… well, she was pretty much right!

Oh, not that I'm calling up my mom to tell her all about what a fun weekend I'm having. Wow, can you even imagine? "Hi Mom, it's me – Megan! Guess what I'm doing this weekend? Taking care of a nasty middle-aged guy who's tied up and being forced back into diapers! Doesn't that sound like such a blast?"

Hah, not exactly. But that's okay. I can chit-chat to my patient Bob here when he's awake, of course, and I can even video chat with Tom whenever I get too bored. Besides – who needs people when you can just relax with books and poetry and movies?

Oh, hang on – I'm probably getting ahead of myself. What have I even been doing these past few days, anyway? Maybe I'd better review my journal. Let's see…

Friday, November 18: My first day of this new babysitting job! Got here just before they all headed out to the airport. Cassie was a dear and handed over everything I needed until they get back Sunday night. (It's really just a lot of keys, to be honest – keys, and a bunch of their cell phone numbers for emergencies.) I don't expect to need them, of course. Bobby doesn't seem like much trouble…

Yeah, I know his name is just boring old Bob. I've already fixed that by calling him Bobby – because it's just so much cuter, don't you think? Plain "Bob" sounds just like some mean old neighbor guy. But "Bobby"? Aww, a sweet little Bobby would never hurt anyone! Bobby just like an adorable little buddy who needs me to wipe his snotty nose and change his soggy pants, you know?

Which I did, of course – not to mention feeding him his bedtime bottle and medicine, and making sure he's all snug and tight in his crib. But after that I had lots of relaxing alone time, which was super nice. Had my own supper and then chilled with my new Blu-Ray of Titanic. Best movie of all time – obviously!

And just so romantic, too! Sigh… I fell asleep imagining lying there just like Rose: all naked and pretty, while Tom gets super flustered and distracted trying to focus on painting me… A girl can dream, right?

Saturday: November 19: Nothing much, really. Woke up, fed and changed Bobby. Chatted with Tom over breakfast, then took a nice relaxing bath. Got to thinking about Bobby and how boring it must be for him up there. Ended up writing a little poem for him – about how cute little birds snug up in their nest, and how mama bird loves to take care of them, and how someday if they're good they'll be ready to go out into the big world…

I guess I'm not much of a poet, judging by the look on his face when I read it to him. But it's still fun to do, so I don't mind too much!

After that I tried something else to cheer him up. Cassie has this whole loop of nursery rhymes and lullabies she's been playing for him, so I told him maybe I can get him something more grown up. Wow, he seemed pretty excited by that! So of course I had to play him my favorite song of all – you know, "My Heart Will Go On." Who can possibly feel nasty or whiny when listening to that, right? But he still seemed grumpy after that, so I just left it on. You know, figured a few hours with it on repeat might make him like it more.

Sadly, he still didn't seem to be any happier when I gave him his diaper change and bottle tonight, so I switched back to his lullabies. His loss, right? I guess it serves him right for not enjoying good music when he hears it!

Sunday, November 20:

Umm…

Maybe I'll fill in today's entry later? Because so far, nothing's really been all that interesting! Let's see: breakfast as usual. Bobby's change and bottle and medicine as usual. Making sure everything's nice and organized for when Cassie and the others get back this evening…

Oh, that reminds me. Bobby is getting pretty smelly, and not just from that messy diaper this morning. Honestly, he really needs a bath to get rid of that sweaty stench – a real bath, not just a wipe-down with a sponge. But how on earth will I ever be able to bathe him all by myself?

Hmm… wait. Cassie showed me the chloroform for putting him to sleep. She meant it for when he misbehaves, of course. But what if I'd make him go to sleep first? Then I could take off all those buckles and straps and stuff. I could maybe lower him down into that wheelchair I found up there, right? Or a blanket or something? Then take him over to that upstairs bathroom…

I can't resist. Maybe it's just the people-pleaser in me, or my sympathy for Bobby getting the better of me. Maybe I'm actually just bored. But after lunch, I put the plan into motion.

"It's okay, Bobby," I soothe while I press the thick, sweet-smelling rag firmly over his nose and paci-gagged mouth. "You've been a good boy for me, really. It's just that I need to do something with you. I'm going to make you smell all nice and fresh again, and I can't have you fighting me, okay? So just relax. Just breathe nice and deep…" He seems upset, of course – but only for a little while. Only until his eyes close and he falls completely unconscious, helpless against the chloroform.

Wow, he's gonna be heavy! In the back of my mind I'm worrying a bit about how on earth I'll get him into the tub – let alone back into the crib. But I've made up my mind, and it's too late to back out now. So out come the keys Cassie gave me, and off come those cuffs. Out he flops, sagging limp and heavy into the creaking wheelchair. And over to the bathroom: where the diaper comes off, and the chastity thingie comes off, and into the warm water he splashes – with me heaving and grunting all the way.

He's completely naked now, of course, and completely unrestrained. Under other circumstances I'd be worried about him fighting me, or making a mess since he's out of his diaper. But as long as I work fast I'll be able to get him clean and dried and bundled back into place before he wakes up, right? And if he does piddle in the tub – because what else can you expect from a sweet little Bobby? – I guess no one will know…

It's quite a success, really! The soap is nice and powdery-smelling, and soon all that icky sweaty smell has been washed away. "Good boy," I soothe to my unconscious patient as the water drains and I begin toweling his obese body dry, making sure to get into all those pesky folds and creases around his thighs and his newly freed, oddly small penis. "Now, I know you won't like this, but I'm just doing my job. Come on, let's get your lock back on…"

And on it goes, clicking snugly into place around that little dick. It's quite a cute little device, too – almost as cute as the crinkly, still-dry diaper that I manage to slip back onto him. The tapes aren't what they used to be, though, so  after a few unsuccessful attempts I grab the duct tape from his nursery and strap it snugly into place. And then… well, we're all set to head back to his nursery!

It's once I've finally grunted and strained and heaved his heavy self back out of the chair and into the crib that it happens. Oh, I'm being careful! I even have the chloroform rag ready in case he wakes up! But right as I'm shuffling around by his feet, sorting through the straps and figuring out which ones belong where, I hear a little wheeze. I glance back over his prone form toward his head… to find his resentful, angry eyes glaring back at me. And then…

Well, something smacks me right in the face. And before I know it, I'm sprawled on the ground beside the crib, while above me Bobby flails his way out, muttering some very nasty words indeed.

I struggle, of course. I scramble away once he tries to pin me down. And he isn't exactly a wrestler, so naturally he stumbles and bellows in ungainly anger when I slip away, my heart thudding in panic. "Bobby, please!" I'm pleading, even as my hand grapples desperately for the chloroform rag. "Calm down! It's- it's okay-" He's wheezing, eyes widening at the sight of the rag, now caught in my trembling hand, as it approaches his face. "It- this is for- your own good…" I falter…

He twists heavily away. And I fall flat on my back, with barely enough time to draw one short breath before his weight crushes down on me.

The last things I recall are the sound of his labored wheezing… his muttered curses… the soft suffocation of the rag being clamped over my face… and the horrific smell of sweet, heavy gas forcing its way deep into my… lungs and, and stu- stupefying… my… brain…

***

I'm free. At fucking last!

I've been here for god knows how many fucking weeks. These absolute criminals have been torturing me for kicks this whole time. And here this fucking bitch thinks she can treat me like some cute little kid, huh? Yeah, fuck you! Enjoy that chloroform. It's nothing more than you did to me!

God, my heart's not liking this one bit. I don't get around like I used to, you know? But once the chick has finally passed out, at least I have a bit of time to figure out my next move. Which, at the moment, is simply catching my breath. And after that… absolute revenge.

Tie her up. Make her the baby. Force her to shit herself. Force-feed her that disgusting milk in the baby bottle-

Well, I make a good start. Her stupid clothes come off easily enough, and I tear off the ones that don't. A roll of duct tape just happens to be nearby, and right now it's everything I need. Oh, yeah. Take that, bitch! Want to shove shit in my mouth? Try a taste of your own fucking panties, whore! And so I stuff her mouth full of her own stupid panties, then wrap the tape around and around to seal them inside. Perfect. Now for her stupid hands and feet. Over and over and round and round, just like a fucking package…

Oh, yeah, revenge is hella sweet. But what's sweeter still is the moment I rip off the fucking diaper around my waist and throw it directly atop her unconscious face. If I had more time, of course, I'd do it properly: you know, tape it back on her. Throw her in the crib. Tie her up just like I was. But all that takes energy… and time.

And I'm beginning to remember that I certainly don't have time.

See, this Megan chick was talking to me just yesterday about the others coming back soon – so I can't exactly wait around for them, can I? But then again, I also need to take this fucking lock off my dick. And call the police. And… ugh, yeah. Find something to wear…

None of which work out as I hope. For one, the only fucking phone I can find is the one in that bitch's pocket… which I only find by accidentally stepping on it and hearing the crunch of glass beneath my foot. Well, fuck. Clothes? The only ones I can find – besides the stupid fucking big baby clothes in the nursery, that is! – are way too small for me. And worst of all, I can't even find the key that seems to belong with this cage thing! Maybe it fell somewhere? Maybe the other kids have it? But honestly, I don't have time to figure it out…

Five minutes later, I've escaped: shuffling out the door, towel wrapped around my waist. I'm headed not for my own house – it's too far away at the moment. No, I'm headed for the neighbors right across the way. Surely they'll be home, right? I think it's where that younger lady lives: the curvy brown-haired chick with the hot ass, who goes jogging past my place every day. I dunno what the fuck her name is, but that's no problem. All I need is for her to let me use her phone for a single call…

To call the fucking police on these criminals, of course. To get them locked up for good!

(To be continued!)