Stuck with a Babysitter

Chapter 1

I can’t believe my mum went through with this dumb idea of hers.

I’m Jack and just because I threw a party without my mums knowledge while she was away for work and a lot more people showed up than I expected leading to the police getting called, I’m being punished. Ridiculous, right?

I mean why does she make a big deal about everything? I’m not the first 16 year old to do this and I certainly won’t be the last. What does she expect me to do anyway?

With her new job, every week she has to leave town on Friday morning and isn’t back home until Monday afternoon (and dad hasn’t been in the picture for years). It was like she was asking me to do it, not to mention all the people at school who were actually asking me to do it. And let it be known that I withstood the peer pressure of doing so for months. For someone my age that’s basically the patience and self control of a monk.

Mum doesn’t see it like that though, so I’m on a bus after school today to spend the first of many weekends at the house of my new babysitter. That’s right, this sixteen year old has himself a babysitter now to look after and keep an eye on him like some fucking child.

According to mum it’s because I “can’t be trusted by myself anymore,” so now I’ll be staying with some random guy until Monday where I’ll go straight to school from and then it’s be back to normal until next Friday when this hell can start anew.

So long seeing friends on the weekend. Adios going out to the cinema. Au revoir normal teenage social life.

I see my stop coming up so I press the button and make my way to the front of the bus. The guy lives just outside of town in the countryside and his place is pretty close to the stop so the walk there only takes like 5 minutes.

Well, there it is. At the very least it’s a nice looking place. A single story house but it covers enough land that it doesn’t look cramped and from the size of the fence behind it the back garden seems to be pretty large. The front garden by comparison is small but even with the little surface area he’s clearly made the most of it by planting bright, colourful flowers in some old, wooden buckets.

I figure I should probably quit stalling and just rip the bandaid off, so with one last heavy sigh I walk along the stone slab pathway to the front door and knock. A few moments later the door opens and standing inside is the man I’m forced to call my ‘babysitter’.

He’s real tall, about 6’5”, so with my short ass only being 5’4” I immediately feel like the kid he’s being paid to look after. Also, this guy definitely works out. I imagine this makes him sound intimidating but he has these gentle eyes and a warm smile which offsets any threatening vibe his size and stature might give off.

“You must be Jack,” he correctly assumes, “I’m Eric.”

He puts his hand out for a handshake and I accept it. (Wow, his hands are softer than I expected.)

“Hi Eric, it’s nice to meet you.”

I’m trying my best to put on a smile despite the fact that this whole arrangement makes me want to die. There was no point in being a dick towards him though. This isn’t his idea and he seems like a pleasant guy so I should at least try and get along with him since we’ll be hanging out for many weekends to come.

He welcomes me inside but once I enter Eric takes my backpack off me without asking and slings it over one of his shoulders. He even tries to help take off my shoes. I don’t think he’s purposely trying to demean or belittle me. He’s just used to dealing with a much younger cliental and is doing it out of habit I bet.

Being as polite about it as I can I let him know that I’m able to take off my own shoes without help. Luckily he’s understanding and allows me to finish the task myself.

“Well buddy, let me show you the main play area,” he says, leading me there, my bag still slung over his shoulder. (Also did he just call me buddy? Thanks, I hate it.)

Looking around the ‘main play area’ I can see it also doubles as a living room, with a big television hooked up to a couple games consoles (and if I’m lucky a copy of Overwatch) and a comfy looking couch, but it looks to be mainly for children. Three of the walls are painted blue while the back wall has this childish space themed wallpaper with cartoon stars, rockets and goofy looking aliens on it. The floor itself is wooden but a good chunk of it has multicoloured play-mats laid over it. The space is also pretty open, so a kid could run around and play here with little worry of bumping into anything. The last thing I notice, stored away in boxes in the corner, are all these toys for kids of all ages. Dolls, action figures, plushies, lego, tonka trucks and any other plaything a kid could want. There’s even a small bookshelf full of children’s books and a clothing rack with various costumes for dress up.

I’m sure for any kid this place is like heaven, but for me it’s definitely hell. I don’t want to be rude though so I give Eric a little smile and nod and he seems happy with that and continues the house tour.

Following him around I can see the place is all up to date but still his a warm and lived in look that makes it feel homely. He shows me the kitchen, the dining room, the one bathroom, all of which has things you need for children big and small, and the back garden (which has so many play sets and the like that it looks like a mini playground).

I realise I’ve just been giving him the same smile and nod throughout the tour and haven’t said anything since coming in so I comment, “This is a really nice place you have here.”

“Thanks,” replies Eric, “That’s kind of you to say. I had it done up while ago now and i think it’s a real improvement. All the kids love it here and I’m sure you will too.”

I just reply with a quick, “Yep,” processing the cringeworthy concept that I could in anyway “love it here” since I’m not a bloody kid. But I’ll let it go. Try and focus on Eric showing me more of his place.

“Finally, we have your bedroom for when you stay here over the weekend,” he states, standing in front of a closed door.

When he opens it though I can feel a pit form in my stomach.

I expected the room to be childish but not to this level. It looks as if it was made up for a little kid with the jungle animal themed wallpaper, curtains and bed covers. Not to mention the fact that the bed seems to have sidebars that can be pulled up to stop a little one getting out. There’s also some stuffed animals that fit the jungle aesthetic. Not to mention the weirdly big changing table with shelves underneath that are stocked full of nappies. The fact I have to sleep in here has me quite red in the face to say the least.

“You should have everything you need in here since your mum brought some clothes for you to wear yesterday,” Eric explains, plopping my backpack on the bed.

“Now that I’ve shown you the place why don’t I explain some of the rules I have here, and you should know that these rules apply to all my charges no matter how young or old. It’s just how I do things and I find it makes things easier overall. Understood?”

“Okay,” I reply, trying my best to not sound sarcastic (this guy knew I was sixteen, right?)

As he lists his rules, like no swearing, no fighting, do as he says, I nod along only half listening. These are the sort of rules you’d expect and I get the gist of it quickly, but what I don’t expect are his next set of rules.

“Now, while you stay here you will be kept in nappies and you’re expected to use them as intended. If you need a change just come ask me and I’ll get you changed into a fresh one, but don’t worry too much. I’ll make sure to check on your nappies often to avoid you getting a rash. Changing yourself or taking your nappy off is not allowed by the way and you can’t use the bathroom without my permission and me being there to supervise. That’s the gist of the rules. If there’s any rules I’ve forgotten to mention I’ll tell ya them as they pop up. You understand all that buddy?” He asks, looking at me like what just came out of his mouth was perfectly normal.

I want to say something but I’m just too shocked to get any words out. Wearing nappies? Getting changed?! He must be having a laugh!

I realise I need to respond in some way so I just utter, “Sorry, what?”

“Is something wrong?” Eric asks, like it isn’t obvious.

“Yeah,” I reply, baffled, “I don’t need to wear… nappies. I’m capable of going to the bathroom all on my own, no help needed. House trained and all man.”

“That may be so,” he rebuts, “but you’re still gonna have to wear a nappy like all the other kids I look after. Sorry buddy, those are my rules and you have to follow them.”

“But I’m not a kid! I’m sixteen. I’m a teenager!”

“That doesn’t change the rules for you, Jack. You know, I look after a fourteen year old as well and he has to wear nappies when he stays here too. It’s not something I’m just applying for you.”

Is this guy dense? I’m basically old enough to live on my own and this guy thinks I’m gonna let him put me in a nappy like a big fucking baby? How the hell did mum not know about that when she hired this creep?

I tell him, “No way, I’m not wearing a goddamn nappy and you can’t make me. If my mum knew about this she-“

“She does know,” he reveals.

…What?

“What?!”

Eric explains, “Like with everyone I look after, I told your mum about my rules and how I do things since a lot of parents aren’t that comfortable with my arrangement but your mum seemed to think that this was right for you and that you’d apparently even benefit from it.”

…What the actual hell mum!? Has she gone absolutely insane?! I get she wants to teach me a lesson for what I did, but this? This is way too far.

“Now Jack, are you gonna be a good boy and get on the changing table for me or are you going to keep being difficult? I can promise that you won’t like how I deal with naughty ones buddy,” warns Eric.

That’s it. It’s time to tell this weirdo what’s up.

“I’m not your fucking buddy, okay?! You and your nappies can fuck right off! I’m sixteen years old! I don’t need a bloody babysitter! I’m heading home and you can phone my mum to tell her that-“

But as I start to walk out, Eric grabs me by my upper arm and just sighs.

“Get off me!” I yell.

I try pulling my arm out of his grip but unsurprisingly he’s way stronger than some scrawny teenager and with ease he pulls me along as he walks over to a wooden chair in the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

As he sits down on the chair it begins dawning on me what he plans to do.

“NO!” I scream as I continue trying to pull my arm from his grasp with a new sense of urgency, but it’s to no avail.

While still gripping my arm his other hand goes to the buttons of my jeans and quickly undoes them before yanking down my trousers along with my boxers despite my best efforts to hold them up. Though I continue to struggle with all my might I’m totally unable to stop him as he lays me across his lap.

With one hand holding both my arms behind my back and his other resting on my bare, never-spanked-before bum he tells me, “This is for your own good, buddy.”

Yeah fucking right.

His hand leaves my butt as he raises it into the air. I take a deep breath through gritted teeth and try my best to prepare for what’s about to happen and…

SMACK!!!

I let out a yelp (a manly yelp) as his hand connect with my left cheek which causes a painful sting. It really hurt and it was only the first of what was probably many (oh no).

I don’t think about it for too long though as another smack quickly follows onto my right cheek and this continues again, again and again. This spanking is an absolute nightmare. Sometimes he smacks one cheek a few times in a row before switching to the other. Other times he slows down to deliver big consecutive smacks to both. The pattern and rhythm is constantly changing so I can’t even get use to that.

Throughout this I’m frantically kick my legs in the air but all that achieves is kicking off my jeans and boxers leaving me in just my shirt and socks.

As he keeps spanking me my yelps becoming much less manly and soon turn into to yelling, which turns into screaming, which finally becomes childish crying as the onslaught continues.

If the spanking itself isn’t bad enough he starts to lecture me!

“Now, I didn’t want to spank you on your first day here,” Eric starts, “but you left me no choice. I know you may not like some of my rules and this isn’t exactly how you want to spend your weekends but that doesn’t mean you can just have a tantrum and use that sort of language towards me. It’s very naughty and will not be tolerated. Once your spanking is finished I’m putting you in a nappy and I expect you to be a good boy when I do. Is that understood?” he asks me.

“Yes… yes!” I answer between sobs.

I’m willing to say anything at this point to end the spanking and thankfully this response makes him stop for a moment.

“What are you gonna be when I put you in a nappy?” He asks, clearly trying to reinforce what’s he’s just said.

God, this is so humiliating. There’s no way I can answer that, but my hesitation makes him give me a big smack on my already tender rear and that does away with the last bit of my pride.

“A good boy,” I cry out, “I-I’ll be a good boy.”

“Good’” says Eric in a calm, soothing tone, “That’s very good.”

He lets go of my arms and I let them hang loosely in front of me, all the energy I had spanked out of me. Even the energy to rub my burning bottom. All I can do is cry like the little child he’s shown me to be.

As I cry, laying across Eric’s lap, I hear the click of a cap opening and a moment later feel his hand on my backside once again but this time he’s gently rubbing lotion onto it while quietly shushing me like some upset infant.

Even though its frustrating that he’s treating me in this childish manner I have no fight left to stop it so I just savour the feeling of the cool creme easing the pain as I sob.

After a while, I’m able to curb the crying to sniffling and the occasional tear or two. My butt also hurts less thanks to the lotion that Eric rubbed in. (Why am I thanking him? I wouldn’t have needed it if he never spanked me in the first place.)

Now I’m sitting on his lap with him holding me, rubbing my back. It wasn’t working, even though I learned my lesson about not following this guys rules, I still don’t like this guy. In fact I hate him and his stupid back rubbing (even if it is a little comforting). Eventually Eric pulls back from the hug and stares at me with those calm eyes of his.

“Okay, now that you’ve calmed down, let’s get you in your nappy,” he says in a kind tone but one that also makes it clear that this isn’t a choice.

Standing me up first he gets up and takes my hand leading me to the changing table across the room. I use my free hand to cover myself the best I can. He lifts me up from under my arms placing me on the soft plastic tabletop, which makes me seethe from the pressure it puts on my bum. Then he swings my legs up and slowly pushes me down until I’m now laying back on the changing table.

As the reality of whats about to happen truly sets in a new wave of tears begins streaming down the sides of my face.

“Jack?” Eric softly says, “You need to move your hands outta the way buddy,” motioning to my hands that are still firmly clasped over my crotch.

The last thing I want to do right now is disobey Eric and risk another spanking but I just don’t have the mental strength to move them out the way. It’s just too humiliating to do even after everything I’ve been through.

“…I-l can’t,” I say, my voice wavering as I try my best not to full on cry again.

He gives me a slight sympathetic but confused look.

“…I-I’m too scared,” I explain.

Eric gives a warm smile, saying, “You have nothing to be scared of Jack. I’m here to look after you so take some deep breathes and try to relax. I know how deal with children with shy hands like yours.”

Taking both my hands Eric, gently as he can, pulls them above my head and starts to put something around my wrists. I look up and see that they’re padded cuffs that are attached to the top of the changing table. Seeing this makes me panic and I start hyperventilating.

“It’s okay. This isn’t a punishment. It’s just to make sure they don’t get in the way,” he reassures, placing a hand on my chest to try and calm me (and surprisingly it kinda works).

Once he has my hands restrained above me he goes about gathering what he needs for getting me padded up. As he does this I try tugging at the restraints, but I can immediately tell there’s no hope of them budging. This is all too much to handle, I’ve never felt so helpless before, and I begin to gently weep.

Eric notices this after getting his supplies and comes over to my head.

“Shhhh. It’s okay buddy. Here, this’ll help you relax.” He says, putting a oversized pacifier in my mouth.

I’m about to spit the stupid thing out but I realise the vulnerable position I’m in so I think better than to do that and suck on it like he expects me to. As much as I hate to admit it, it is helping me calm down a bit. How the hell is that possible? I’m way too old for this, for any of this. It has to be some lizard part of my brain that remembers this from when I was a baby. That’s the only logical reason.

My train of thought is interrupted though as Eric starts getting me padded.

He’s extremely thorough with the wet wipes, cleaning the entirety of my ass and crotch, getting into every nook and cranny he can. From my balls, to my shaft, he even pulls back my foreskin to wipe the head. When it comes to my ass he holds my legs up in the air with one hand and doesn’t just wipe between my cheeks, but takes a wet wipe covered finger to my hole, rotating it back and forth.

I would be getting a hard on from all this stimulation but with how upset and emotional I am right now that luckily doesn’t happen. I don’t think I could handle that along with everything else right now.

Once he finishes wiping he grabs a bottle of baby powder, twists the top and starts pouring a liberal amount onto my privates and butt (again, lifting my legs in that babyish fashion to do so). He then rubs it in with his hands to make sure it’s evenly spread.

Through out this process he’s been saying all sorts of reassuring shit to me and explaining what he’s doing but it just makes it worse. My face feels hot and I imagine it’s about as red as my ass is.

Finally, he lifts my legs one more time and slides the big nappy underneath me along with a couple stuffer. (What? I’ve had nephews and nieces who needed a nappy changed once or twice before.) As my butt is lowered onto the admittedly soft material I start squirming, hoping I can still escape this fate of mine, but Eric just ignores it like he would with any fussy child he has up on here, and pulls it over my crotch.

The ripping of the four tapes sounds like the nails going into my coffin sealing my fate.

With the nappy now on me Eric smiles and gives the front of it a few pats, unintentionally degrading me even more somehow. He says something but I’m not really listening and he leaves the room while I’m still on the changing table arms still restrained above my head.

I’d panic but I’m in a nappy, my face is wet from all the crying, I’ve got a pacifier in my mouth and I’m just tired. Drained of energy after having to go through all this, I feel my eyelids getting heavy as I start drifting off to sleep.

The last thought i have being ‘I can’t believe this was my mums dumb idea’.

Hi, the author Jacey here. This is my first ever abdl story and I’ve worked on this on and off for a few weeks but finally finishing the first chapter has me pumped to write the second ASAP. One of the reasons it took me so long to write this was because I kept going back and forth on if it should be written in present tense and past tense which involved going through the whole thing to change the tenses. I finally decided on present tense but if you see any past tenses I left in there just let me know. Also I’d love to get any critique, be it grammar and spelling, plot stuff or how you feel about the characters. How you feel about the characters especially helps as it might change how I go about them in the future. Well, I hope you enjoyed the story so far and I can’t wait to finish chapter 2.

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You’ve written it with a strong narrative voice and the quality of the writing bears testament to your editing. It’s very easy to read and flows well.

Sadly the plot has a few holes in it. A babysitter with inflexible rules wouldn’t last long in the job. I’m curious why the protagonist didn’t ring his own mother regarding this, and why he hasn’t called the police to report assault, battery, kidnapping and (as a result of that final pat) sexual assault.

Surely the average 16 year old boy would be escaping the house right now, or getting a large knife from the kitchen.

I know these are small details but they help make a story feel more credible and interest me in reading more. Without them the relationship between the characters is just mindlessly abusive and nobody’s like that.

Thanks for your input, I really appreciate. When I went about writing this I was wary about what sort of stuff I was gonna write and include. It’s why I made the character 16 since it’s the legal age of consent here in the UK even though there isn’t going to be any sort of sexual stuff that happens between the two of them.

I understand what you mean about how it could come off as abusive but I would argue that this could be said about most abdl stories. When the protagonist did try to leave, he was immediately stopped by his babysitter and spanked, which I know is illegal in the UK but for the sake of story I’d ask for some suspension of disbelief when it comes to that stuff. I’m wanting this story to have realism to it but that’s something that I will stretch when it comes to the abdl aspect of it all. You won’t see Jack paraded around town in a stroller wearing just a nappy so everyone and laugh and mock him (because people would definitely call the police then or try and help this teenager).

I do have to admit though, I completely forgot about how the character would definitely have a phone. Don’t know how it slipped my mind when I’m writing this on a tablet, but I’ll think about how to address this in the next chapter.

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Only in Scotland and (from 2022) in Wales. In England spanking is legal as a ‘reasonable punishment’. I’m not sure the incident in your story would qualify, but a 16 year could bring a credible assault charge anyway.

No doubt in the pocket of his jeans which he can’t currently reach.

But that’s kind of the point. If you’re writing a gay sex story with diapers then I guess, sure, a lot of readers will want you to go straight for the action. If you’re writing a story, think about your characters, tell us what they’re thinking, why they’re acting as they are, why they aren’t doing the obvious thing any of us would do in that situation.

e.g. Eric would be missing an eye by now and explaining to the paramedic what he did that made me feel it was necessary to claw at him like that, and I’m not a 16 year old man full of testosterone.

Writing is difficult, sorry.

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Bit of warning, per the terms of service you agreed to when you made an account, this site and its content must comply with US law, and specifically, those in effect in the state of Arkansas, what is or isn’t legal in the UK means exactly jack shit when it conflicts with US and Arkansas law.

Be very careful where you take this story, because if it violates those laws I am legally required to take it down, although if that does happen I’ll give you a chance to edit it before that happens. :slight_smile:

Thank you for the warning ahead of time. I was a little worried that what i had in this first chapter may have been too much but I’ll be wary going ahead. Also I’m perfectly happy to edit my story in the future if it does conflict with the rules at all.