wittlesissybaby

Chapter 3

Published: August 4th 2023, 6:26:59 am

Peter was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when they pulled into the rounded drive of the Daycare.

“Are we going to have a better day today?” Jenn asked sternly.

“Y-yes, Mommy…” Peter sniffled, still a bit traumatized from the day before.

“We’re gonna be on our best behavior?”

“Yes Mommy!” Anything to not have to endure her and his best-friend Trevor’s wrath again.

“Good.” She smiled through the rearview, “Remember, Daddy will be picking you up today.”

Before Peter had the chance to express his chagrin to the idea of being picked up by Trevor, the door to the Range Rover swung open.

“Good morning, Petey!” Casey smiled, eyes sparkling. Casey was by far the hottest Betasitter employed at DREAMS Daycare. Actually, “by far” wouldn’t be a fair assessment. All of the Betasitters were gorgeous. All of them were interning from the University. They had to gather a certain number of hours to earn their ABC Degree. But the sight of Casey’s beautiful smile and the way the light danced across her auburn hair and rosy cheeks drove Peter’s peter wild inside of its cage.

“Do you need help getting him out of his seat?” Jenn asked from the driver’s seat.

“Not at all, Mrs. Palmer!” Casey exclaimed, leaning into the car, “I’m an expert at handling this little guy by now!”

Peter’s breathing became irregular as Casey’s perfectly manicured nails traipsed across the straps of the car seat.

“D’awww! Looks like somewon got a visit from the sogmonster alweady!!” Casey cooed when her palm pressed against Peter’s diaper.

It wasn’t his fault. Peter’s morning piss is always the biggest and smelliest, but Jenn refuses to let him do it in the toilet, or even in his nighttime diaper. She insists he do it after his morning change so that he’s sent to Daycare with an already swollen, plump, pissy pamper. “It’s okay wittle guy!” Casey teased, even though this was an everyday occurrence, “Everyone has their accidents!”

Calling him ‘little guy’ was a little ironic. He was taller than her for one, and he certainly wasn’t dressed like the standard definition of a boy as she ‘helped’ him out of his buckles and out onto the pavement. Peter had to keep his hands down to stop his already tiny skirt from blowing in the wind and exposing more of his saggy diaper. It was amazing how many pink, frilly dresses Jenn was able to find. They somehow all looked the same, but also very different. This one was mostly white, interspersed with pink bows and highlighted with pink, lacy fringe. The words ‘baby girl’ stitched across the chest.

“Say ‘bye bye’ to Mommy” Casey reminded him before closing the door.

“Bye Mommy!” Peter called, hoping to impress both of the females.

Jenn hardly spared him another glance, tapping on her phone (probably to Trevor) before putting the car in drive and pulling out of the way.

“Off we go!” Casey said in a singsong voice, taking the Peppa Pig lunchbox from his hand. She used her other hand to clasp into his and guide him along. His heart skipped a little. Obviously nothing would happen between him and this 20 year old girl, but it was nice to feel a woman’s touch. Her cool, soft hand felt good in his, even if it was to patronizingly lead him like a child. She was probably absolutely revolted on the inside, but she at least seemed to hide it well. Smiling the whole time she walked him towards the building.

The other sissies were being unloaded and led by their betasitters too. One after another they were brought in through the double doors. The room was awash with color. Vibrant pastel pinks, baby blues, and canary yellows decorated any and all surfaces. Shelf after shelf with bins and bins of toys and toddler items jigsawed through the open floorplan like 4-foot tall Tetris blocks.

“Knees.” Casey reminded him again once their feet hit the colorful rubber mat. Each section of the giant room had a different, infantile flooring to it. Everything from the alphabet to little pretend cities. The Adult Babies were not permitted to stand in the building at all. Only crawling from now on. Casey released Peter’s hand as he clambered down on all fours. She helped him out of his black Mary Jane shoes and set them in his cubby. Peter wished Jenn hadn’t put him in the slick nylon stockings this morning. It made his knees slide awkwardly on the soft, padded surface.

“You’re in the building Center today” She told him. He followed her feet as she walked him through the various stations. Each one had different activities for the AB’s to play at. There was the ‘cooking’ station with a toy kitchen and a bunch of fake, plastic food. The ‘sensory’ station with things like kinetic sand, tubs of raw corn, and bins of spiky metal tacks for them to run their hands through.

The “dress-up” station was used for trying on different humiliating outfits, and doing makeup using the undersized vanity mirror.

The ‘dolly’ Center was similar, except you were doing it all with–well–plastic Barbies and dolls. Nothing like the irony of changing the diaper of an inanimate object while wearing a diaper that needs changing.

The building Center was Peter’s favorite though, so he didn’t complain. When he got to the area, it was already a bit scattered with blocks from the other sissy that was sitting there drooling and banging the wooden cubes together with a far off daze on his face. Peter had to carefully crawl through to avoid hurting his wrists and knees on the wooden obstacles.

“Hi, Petey!” The other Sitter in the center gleamed. “You’re looking…saggy today!”

It took him a while to realize she was referring to the diaper drooping between his legs. There wasn’t much to say to that, so he just ignored her. One of the few good things about being an Adult Baby is you don’t have to partake in conventional adult small talk. You can just put your penis pacifier in your mouth and go about your business.

Peter turned and sat on his pissy diaper with a muffled crinkle, looking around for something to play with. If he was going to be in this center for the next 90 minutes or so, he might as well find something to entertain him. He wished there were more ‘grown-up’ toys like Legos or K’nex, but he would have to make do with the toddler toys.

He picked up a plastic hammer. It was tiny, and extremely light in his hand. He missed the feel of a real hammer. But when he made to swing at the little plastic buttons, Casey caught his wrist.

“I don’t think you should be playing with that, little one!” she chided. “It’s too dangerous!”

Peter looked up, confused. Even the other Sitter sitting next to the brain-dead AB looked perplexed.

“Mrs. Olsen said we need to remove all phallic shaped instruments from Petey’s play areas,” Casey explained to the other girl. “After what happened yesterday…”

Ahh, yes, the infamous ‘ring stand’ incident. Apparently Peter was never going to live that down. Why was it so bizarre that a man who has been deprived of orgasms for weeks would try to shove something up his butt in order to get a little stimulation?? If only he could tell them he got some relief yesterday by getting bounced on his best friend’s knee with a giant butt plug up his ass. Actually…maybe he’d keep that one to himself.

Still, he had to watch as the girls patronizingly pulled away anything and everything that even somewhat resembled a long, smooth device. Plastic hammers, screwdrivers–really all the ‘tools’--cylindrical blocks, plastic pegs, Lincoln logs, even a little crane with a wrecking ball attached to it was taken away from him.

“You never know,” Casey shrugged, “the little perv might try to use it as an anal bead.”

Peter was left with very little to play with. It was either stack the drool-covered wooden cubes, or sit there and twiddle his thumbs. He did manage to find a bag of Mega Bloks tucked in the back of the cabinet, but when he started linking them together to build a tall, skinny tower, Casey confiscated that too.

“Silly baby!” She teased.

******

“Everybody up! It’ss cirrcle tiiiime!!!” Mrs. Olsen called in a sing-song voice.

The Betasitters helped usher and herd the sissies through the Centers and into the open area towards the back of the giant room. Peter had just gotten done putting away the stupid blocks while muttering ‘Clean up. Clean up. Everybody everywhere.” in time with everyone else. If he didn’t, it would be another demerit on his report card, and he was already on thin ice–if the ice hadn’t shattered already.

Once the sissies were arranged in a circle on the floor doing criss cross-applesauce, Mrs. Olsen stepped in above them, hands outstretched.

“Okay everyone! It’s time to do our songs!”

The Betasitters all clapped excitedly. They were in an outer circle around the AB’s. There were enough of them to abide by the Federal ratio of 1 sitter for every 2 sissies. But because there has been such a huge spike in people seeking ABC Degrees in recent years, the high supply of Betasitters meant easily being able to handle a 1:1 ratio.

Mrs. Olsen pressed play on the decades old boombox and a staticy tune of “I’m a Little Teapot” crackled out.

The sitters poked and prodded the sissies, encouraging them to sing as loud as possible.

“I’m a little bay-ta, short and stout!” Everyone sang in chorus, “Here is my diapy, never let me out!” Every sissy pointed at the squishy padding between their legs, some more enthusiastically than others. “When I get all horned up, then I pout!” Everyone crossed their arms and hung a face, some of them actually looked like genuine pouting. The final line left them lifting their hands to their eyes and rolled them in a fake crying motion. “Just LET me whimper and cry it out!”

The sitters all clapped and “whoo’d” at their little accomplishments, cackling with amusement at the pathetic display. They proceeded to sing other classics like “Blow, Blow, Blow Your Bull”, “Five Little Cucks” and of course “The Itsy Bitsy Sissy” before Mrs. Olsen moved on to the next scheduled part of the day.

“Okay everyone!! It’s diapy time!” she announced with an encouraging smile.

It was the Betasitters’ turn to groan.  Every AB daycare had to have scheduled time for diaper changes. Which meant everyone had to stop what they were doing, lay out the mats, pull out the diaper bags provided by the Guardians, and consult the specific AB’s chart.

But the law doesn’t specifically state that diaper changes have to occur, it just says there as to be an allocated time period. Some Mommy’s and Daddy’s want their AB changed at every scheduled interval. Perhaps as a way to humiliate them, or because they genuinely wanted to keep their AB fresh and clean. Other Guardians see this as a waste, especially with how expensive diapers are, so they have what’s called the ‘Check and Change’ policy. This comes at different levels: some are to be changed if the diaper is damp in any way, some can only be changed if the diaper is wet enough to change the pink indicator line, some have to have both #1 and #2 in their diaper (most common), and some have to wait for a ‘Stewing Time’ to be complete. Stew Time is where the AB has to sit in their wet, dirty diaper for a designated period before their diaper can be changed. You can guess which plan Peter has been put on.

“Well, you’re certainly wet, but no signs of poo poo’s.” Casey said after inspecting Peter’s Pamper unnecessarily. She checked the required boxes on his chart and filled in the appropriate information. “Do you need to poop?” she asked, crooking an eyebrow. “If you get it out now you might be able to finish your Stew Time before the next scheduled change.

“I don’t…need to go right now.” Peter muttered, face flushed. There are few things more humiliating than having to discuss your bowel movements with a girl half your age.

“You sure? I can get you some–”

“Ughhh!!” The Sitter next to her groaned.

“What is it Annie?” Casey asked.

“It’s milking day…” she mumbled.

Peter was instantly jealous. So many AB’s here seemed to have milking days on their chart, some fewer and farther in between than others. But it was better than the “Never” Jenn had expressly written on Peter’s chart.

“I can do it if you want…” Casey offered helpfully.

“No it’s fine…I just like him better when he’s all horned-up and squirmy. After cummies he tends to turn into quite the brat.” Annie sighed, then shrugged, “But…at least it won’t take long.” She turned back to the sissy splayed out before her, closing her eyes and putting on a certain face. Her eyes shot open behind the new, jovial, condescending she had on. “Okay Timmy!! Are you weddy to make cum cumss?!”

Timmy was nodding and breathing frivolously, squirming eagerly on top of his diaper.

“Ohhh my!! Look how big your wittle cwitty is getting!”

She must have been joking. Timmy had what could only only be described as a micropenis. Before it got ‘erect’, it was practically hidden and inverted. Now there was only a tiny acorn showing.

Annie squeezed a bit of lotion onto two of her fingers while I looked on enviously. She didn’t waste any time, just rubbed a bit of lotion over Timmy’s tiny penis, it was so small she couldn’t even put two fingers around it, so she just rubbed it back and forth with the tip of her finger like it were an actual clitoris.

“You gonna make a big sticky mess for me?? Huh??” She teased in that chippy voice, continuing to circle a finger around his clit. “Hmm??Yea? Are you gonna make a goo goo in your–ohp!”

And just like that, in less than 10 seconds, Timmy was spurting strings of semen all over Annie’s fingers and into his fresh diaper. Annie’s mask immediately morphed into that of disgust. “Such a fucking loser,” she sighed unapologetically, wiping the dripping white goo from her fingers with the rubber penis bulb of Timmy’s pacifier, smiling wickedly before popping it in his whimpering mouth.

The girls took the rolled-up wet and messy diapers over to a cylindrical machine with a tube running up to the ceiling. It reminded Peter of the things you see at a bank to send the checks back and forth from the car to the teller. Each girl took a turn placing the dirty package into the cylinder and pressing the button so that it shot through the tube with a pthoot!

After Changey-Time, it was time to bottle feed. Some of the Sitters would cradle the AB in their arms, some just held the bottle in their mouth for them. Most, including Casey, just handed their sissy the bottle and let them suckle themselves.

Savine, a particularly ruthless Sitter, was barking at her AB. “Jerk it! Spew it all over your face like it’s your wife’s boyfriend’s cock!” The sissy beneath her was blubbering while he pumped the bottle back and forth so that it sprayed tiny drops of milk all over his cheeks to mix with his tears.

Peter was thankful he didn’t have a Sitter like her. He was also thankful that Jenn hadn’t put the Bimbo brand of formula into his bottle. It turns the brain to mush for a short period, which was probably why the sissy in his center before couldn’t stop drooling all over the blocks and himself. Right now he just had simple milk from a cow in his bottle, though he he had a very strong feeling it wouldn’t stay that way throughout the day…

To Be Continued