Real Babies Act Like Babies (Patreon)

When Jake first arrived at my doorstep with his backpack and suitcase in hand, I almost pittied him. He was an attractive enough man, with his dirty blond hair, sheepish smile and slightly stooped posture. If I had seen Jake in the bar, I might have let him buy me a drink - if I were into that sort of thing. When I was done with him, he wouldn’t be buying anyone a drink anytime soon. His drinks would come from a bottle from now on.

After taking his suitcase and backpack from him, I asked if he had the contract that I had sent him to sign. I laced my voice with motherly sternness to remind him that I was in charge. “Have you been a good boy and signed the papers for mommy?”

He flinched at the word “mommy,” but mumbled that he had indeed signed the contract.

I grinned as he fished the contract out of his pocket and handed it to me. He had folded it a few times and I had to unfold it to read it. Sure enough, on the bottom of page was his untidy scrawl, the date and his name printed in ink.

“Then what do you say?” I asked him, narrowing my eyes.

I watched him struggle internally for a moment before he gave in and said what I wanted to hear.

“I am ready to be a good boy for mommy.” He said quietly.

My smile grew wider and I led him down the hall to where he’d be spending the rest of his week. Jake was clearly nervous when he entered the house and this resonated with each step that he took. He did that thing where he kept looking back to make sure I was following him. That bodded well for the next few weeks he’d be under my roof. While he only intended to be here a week, most of these types of men needed to be here for longer. One thing was for sure, when I was done with him, he’d rely on me for everything.

***

Most of the men who entered my nursery had no idea what they were getting into. Sure they read the contract, but in reality, they never actually thought of the consequences.

When they opened the door of the room and saw the sweet pastel colors, the oversized crib, the adult changing table and the stacks of diapers, most of them tended to either get extremely shy or extremely excited. In both of these states, the men became extremely obedient and ( for the first few hours at least) they’d be like putty in my hands.

But I needed them to focus. The first thing I always do is pull their pants off for them. I simply have them step out of their shoes and and socks and then pull down their pants. Generally this is the point when I have to reinforce my first and most serious rule.

You see, I don’t allow grown men in my house.

I only allow babies in my house.

My contract forbids any type of adult behavior from my babies. That means after they enter the nursery they cannot speak adult words to me, they cannot use thier silly cell phones and they most certainly cannot have an erection.

Babies don’t have those sort of adult mechanism that enable them to be horny or lust after women like me. I make it very clear that I don’t see the people in my nursery as men, they are drooling babies who need stern strict discipline and I am here to train them in the ways that will ensure they are safe and cared for. Which is why I need to nip nasty things like erections in the bud immediately.

“What is this?” I demanded forcefully grabbing the bobbing (and growing erection) with my hands and squeezing.

This first step had the added benefit of making the young man feel some pleasure and squirm as he felt my warm hands make contact with his special parts. I spanked him in the butt and demanded that he head over to the changing table instantly.

Jake complied of course, yelping at the smack that was harder than he expected and rapidly climbed up in the changing table. Most of the babies didn’t realize that there were restraints on the changing table just waiting for them. But that too worked to my advantage.

You see, the moment they lay back and saw my smile and began to relax for just a second, I’d tie their hands to the wrist restraints. Then would come the leg restraints. And the spreader bar. It was easier to lift their legs up when they couldn’t kick. I’d simply click the bar in place and leave his butt exposed for the room to see.

It also meant their legs would be naturally spread and I could once again glare at the naughty rising pole between their legs.

“This…” I would say grasping the erection with my now soft hands filled with baby lotion, “is going to have to stop if you’re to be mommy’s baby.”

I’d purposely move my hand up and down softly, as if by accident, to cause him to get even harder. I knew the boys that entered my nursery couldn’t help getting these… adultlike reactions. They hadn’t yet learned how to act like the baby I knew they wanted to be. They hadn’t yet learned how to reject the naughty feelings that swirled in the back of their minds, forcing this naughty reaction.

But don’t worry.

I know how to fix this.

I had little tricks up my sleeve.

I had ways of using the tools in my nursery to my advantage.

The first tool was to just deny them pleasure. This tactic hardly ever worked. These dumb drooling babies were hooked on the lump between their legs. I’d tape them into their thick diapers and add a stuffer for good measure. Nothing like extra layers to dull any sensation between their legs. Sometimes I’d even add a cloth diaper on top of the thick plastic disposable. But I knew some of these babies got even harder when they could see the baby print on the soft, crinkly plastic. They’d get fired up if they saw the diaper.

For the first day of his stay, Jake would wet his diapers and be confined to the nursery. The door would remain locked of course. I didn’t want him getting cold feet. No, his stay would last the full week, cold feet or not. But it also meant that he’d be surrounded by his baby toys, his diapers, his baby powder. The extra layers seemed to be pretty effective.

When he thought I wasn’t looking, Jake would try humping his diaper on the soft carpet. My hidden cameras showed as clear as day, his frustrated face. I knew he’d get nowhere. The diapers were too thick. They were designed that way.

The camera’s allowed me to time my next move perfectly. I walked in on him the third time he tried to make a sticky mess in his diapers. I’m pretty sure Jake got so scared, he nearly messed himself. I guess adding extra lotion to his small penis during diaper changes didn’t help his situation any.

But I had to remind them of their baby status. And the only way I could do this was to condition them to learn that an orgasm was not in their future. I had to teach them that erections outside of their crinkly thick diapers were bad.

Jake was going to learn to be the perfect baby.

By day three, Jake was having a difficult time during diaper changes. I’d constantly feed him water to make sure he was always flooding his diapers, which made sure he was getting a diaper change about once every three to four hours. I’d wait for him to leak and then scold him from his space on the floor telling him I’d have to give him thicker diapers if he continued to saturate them in this way.

I knew the thicker diapers would both turn him on and scare him. Jake wasn’t always dumb. He knew the ticker the diaper the less of a chance he could cum on his own. It would lengthen the distance between his little wee wee and the rest of the world. His private parts would be sealed off from even his reach.

How infantile.

How delicious.

Whenever I told Jake he needed thicker diapers, he would put down his bottle (He drank from a bottle of course, when is the last time you’ve seen a baby use a cup?) and insist that he wasn’t allowed to ask for a change. That’s why he leaked.

It was then that I’d remind him that babies are supposed to use baby talk and that he earned himself a pacifier the rest of the day.

I’d peer into his confused, adorable face as I’d strap him to the diaper changing table. He’d suck the pacifier worried he would break more rules if he did anything wrong. I’d peel the saturated diaper off of him and to no ones surprise, his erection would bob up and down, waiting for my touch.

I wiped him down with baby lotion, paying close attention to the head of his stiff member, but showing no sign that I was enjoying this process myself. Instead I’d scold him, demand that the erection vanish before he needed to be punished.

When I told this to Jake, he looked worried. I know what was going through his head. How could he avoid the low cut tops and tight leggings I was wearing every single day? My outfits would make any warm blooded man drool and rethink his commitment to his wife or girlfriend. The poor baby man in front of me had full access to my breasts, my touch… but as a baby he couldn’t react in the old ways of men. That was for adults.

What I told him next gave him some hope. “If you’re a good boy, I can take care of that stiffie of yours in a few days. Clearly you have pent up energy building inside of you.”

I saw it on his face, the delight at those words. They always perked up when I said that, because they had no idea what I really meant by this. But I’d let him off the changing table, give his butt an extra pat and send him along his way.

For the the next 48 hours, Jake was a good boy in every respects. He drank his bottles quickly, he ate the food I gave him while strapped to his high chair. He crawled every single day around his room. I didn’t see him on his feet once.

This also meant I could transition Jake even faster to extremely gross baby food and he’d eat without complaint. Just a mere 24 hours earlier, he would have protested violently at the thought of blended chicken and bananas. But today, he let me scoop the food into the comically large spoon and pile it into his mouth and just looked at me with his eyes and I asked him if he was still being a “good boy for mommy.”

He’d nod of course.

I would smile, kiss him on the forehead and remind him that in a few days he’d get the release he needed.

When release day finally came, I’d always make a big show of opening the curtains in the nursery and telling him that today was the day. If he’d be a good boy this morning, he’d get the release he needed.

“Are you excited?” I asked Jake who was stretching in the crib.

He looked up at me from his position on his back and nodded gleefully. His diaper was thick and swollen between his legs. The massive diaper, with two boosters, underneath transparent plastic pants, was a testament to the training he had been going through over the past 48 hours while he was being a “good boy.” More water, more food, bigger diapers.

“Good,” and then I’d drop the bombshell. “Because we have a special visitor today.”

I watched as Jake’s eyes grew large and he froze, unsure of what to do with this information. On one hand, I was certain he didn’t want to leave the room to see the visitor who would be coming at any moment. But on the other hand, he had promised to be a good boy. He knew that if he refused to follow my directions, his week was about to get extremely difficult and he’d be frustrated in more ways than one. I let him stew while I had him on the changing table, my hand lotioning his stiff penis. It felt like a metal rod in my hands.

“Are you going to be a good boy while mommy’s visitory is here?” I asked while slowly rubbing in the lotion.

I knew he couldn’t resist.

Jake nodded. “Yes mommy, I’ll be a good boy.”

I smiled and quickly taped up the diaper.

I saw the look of disappointment in Jakes’s eyes when he realzied it wasn’t yet time for release. But I reassured him that after our special visitor left, his time would come.

I laughed to myself. His time would “come” alright.

Part of training these confused men to act like babies is to constantly remind them that they have no control over their surroundings. Babies always go with the flow, they have no choice. They are held whenever the women in their life want them to be held, they are fed when we want to feed them. So when I got Jake dressed in his space onesie, popped a pacifier into his mouth and placed the mittens on his hands and had him crawl to the kitchen I was reinforcing this concept.

The baby man froze when we saw a medium height brown haired woman sitting at the table.

I grinned from behind him, patted his padded bottom and told him to keep moving. “It’s breakfast time, she’s just here visiting mommy today.” He still didn’t move so I said a few things about being good for mommy for release day and that got him moving again.

Some people think it’s cruel to use my baby’s horniness against him. How can he possibly consent to this treatment without his full mental facilities. But the reality is, the contract they signed is ironclad, and each one of these men will tell you: No woman can control them. Babies like Jake think they’re men after all. What they don’t realize is that what they said about “no woman being able to control a strong man” is technically true. Technically, no woman can control them. Technically, if they were still men, they’d win in a heartbeat over my womanly frame.

But Jake wasn’t a man.

As evidenced by his thick diapers and the onesie straining to contain those thick plastic diapers, he was a baby. And only babies let their little pee pees control their every move and wants.

Jake was a baby.

Jake stiffly proceeded to sit next to the high chair that stood at the end of the large table. Like an obedient boy, he wanted for me to instruct him to climb into the prison of a chair and watched me slide the tray into place.

Jake’s diaper squished as he sat down, a sign that my baby, all within a few days, had already begun wetting his diapers without prodding. No doubt this time he was trying to be a good boy for me. He wanted to earn his big boy release.

“What’s for breakfast today?” The brown haired woman asked pulling a backpack from beneath the kitchen table as I began to grab a few things from the fridge.

“Today we are eating oatmeal, chicken and spinach,” I said placing the ingredients on the table. I looked over at Jake who sat in the high chair looking mortified. He tried to grip the edges of the tray, to push it away, but the mittens stopped him from making any progress.

“It’s my baby’s favorite meal. He’s such a good boy.” I purred knowing damn well the blender was cooking up an extremely vile concoction that even the undecerning of eaters would avoid. But I knew I had him trapped. If Jake wanted to be a good boy, he needed to do exactly what I said.

I placed the bowl of mush in front of the baby and proceeded to feed him. The brown haired woman proceeded to pull a camera from her bag as ask if now was a good time.

“Of course. Snap away.” I said looking Jake right in the eyes. “It’s a great day for the baby.”

Jake kicked his legs in the chair, unable to verbally protest because his mouth was filled with the horrible tastes of foods that any other day would help him reach his bodybuilding goals.

I curled my lip and sneered, “Unless Baby has an objection…”

I looked him dead in the eye and watched as the baby slowly shook his head.

Granted he had help. I had been squeezing the front of his swollen diaper knowing full well that underneath the padding he could almost feel my phantom touch.

There was no way he could deny my demand.

It wasn’t a request.

To be frank, I’ve only had one baby deny my friend the ability to take pictures. I must confess, I reacted poorly to that news. In my anger, I unseated him from the high chair and pointed him to the door and told him he could find his own way home.

The sight of him waddling down the city street desperately trying not to be seen by the early morning rush hour crowd was something that to this day, causes me great joy. But it was my own fault. I had tried the photo stunt the day after I’d forgotten to watch the baby closely. He obviously had orgasmed at some post without me knowing. In the future I vowed to be careful.

That’s why this moment was so wonderful. Jake struggled in the chair, his face screwed up in disgust as the woman snapped photos. I made sure she saw the full picture. The bib tied around his neck, the food dripping from his mouth, the thick, swollen, plastic diaper that pushed his legs apart. She saw what I needed her to see: The absolute humiliation that the baby went through as he learned how to act like the infant he was.

These photos would come in handy later.

No, I wouldn’t post them on some website like Just for Fans or host them on Fetlife. No, they were for my own private collection. I had other photos on all those sites, of babies who wanted to be exposed for who they were. Jake’s were going to stay right where I needed them.

Once Jake had finished two bowls of the mixture (he was a growing boy after all) the brown haired woman finished taking photos and tucked the camera away into her bag.

“These will make a nice addition to the collection,” she said, standing up and preparing to leave the room. “Same time next week?”

I nodded. She was a constant presence in my house when training my babies.

Once she had left, I turned to face the messy baby man sitting in the high chair. He wiggled his legs a little as I watched the wetness expand a bit more in his diaper.

Jake was also no doubt expanding his legs for another reason. He was excited because he had made it through the first test. This meant next he would get his big boy reward.

So I did as I promised. I led him back to the nursery and watched as his swollen diaper wagged back and forth as he crawled ahead of me.

Instead of the changing table, I had him sit down in a hard backed chair I had designed specifically for this reason. The chair had a hump in the middle of it between the legs, where his penis was. It made it look like he was sitting on a horse almost, forcing his legs to dangle on the sides and not touch the floor. The chair, designed to put pressure in the right area was designed for an extremely sinister task.

“I hear someone’s been a good baby today,” I said softly as Jake squirmed in the chair, wiggling his legs on each side. I attached him to the neck, arm and leg restraints. He looked slightly confused, but this was normal. But babies would do anything to get release.

But he perked right up as I untaped his diaper so it still sat underneath him. If he was going to make a mess, I’d rather let the diaper catch it as opposed to my soft nursery carpet.

“Is baby ready for their treat today?” I asked softly as his penis lay on the diaper’s soft, soaked interior.

He nodded aggressively as I pumped baby lotion into my hand.

The poor boy had spent the last week waiting to cum and today I was going to let him. But I only did this because it was healthy. I didn’t like that my babies needed to cum. I preferred they wouldn’t. But the reality was it was healthy for them to get thier release. But no one said anything about having an orgasm. So I devised a way to make sure they’d have their release without any pleasure.

Jake hadn’t yet noticed.

When Jake signed the contract with me, he promised me he wouldn’t get any erections. As I stroked his little penis, he got excited. I stared at his face, cooing and speaking softly into his ear.

I purred to him, reminding him that babies shouldn’t have stiffies, that they need to be good boys for mommy. I insisted that he let out the bad boy juice so he could behave. Each time I stroked, the pleasure intensified in his body.

Jake however, noticed far to late that the pleasure didn’t amount to an erection.

In fact, his penis just lay limp and useless in the soft pillow of a diaper.

Each time I stroked, nothing happened externally to Jake.

Each time I stroked, Jake could feel in the back of his mind that he should be receiving pleasure. He remembered what life was like as a man. As the quarterback. As an executive. Each time I stroked, Jake’s mind told him that he should be as stiff as a board, that he should be bucking his hips, that he should be on top of a woman like me.

But right now, he was baby.

Right now, locked to his special chair receiving a big boy release, none of that was possible.

The lump in the chair cut off all the blood flow to the penis. And to have an erection, you need blood flow in that direction.

But from practice, I learned if I keep my boys on edge for long enough something magical happens.

Jake’s limp pee pee twitched slightly and as I watched, cum leaked out. It wasn’t the strong ejaculation of a man. It came out like a lazy river, just leaked right into his diaper. There wasn’t much of it, but I stroked a few more times just to be sure.

The expression on Jake’s face was pure surprise. Rarely has a man ever seen himself ejaculate with a limp, pathetic penis lying on top of a soaked diaper, without any pleasure.

In an instant, Jake realized what I had known all along. He wasn’t going to get the sweet joy that came with release. No, for this baby, orgasms were a thing of the past. The only release Jake got was from his own penis spurting the cum that had managed to collect in his tiny balls over the course of the week.

I before I tugged the diaper back in place, I pulled out a soft foam ball and put it between his taint and balls to ensure he wouldn’t get a spontaneous erection after this draining. I tugged the diaper back into place, taping the diaper tight as Jake began to sniffle.

“What’s the matter baby, didn’t you want to get all those bad milkies out of you?”

Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t have too. I had significantly and utterly humiliated him.

As I led him back to his crib, his cries got louder. “I want to go home,” he cried out to me as tears dripped down the side of his cheeks. “I’m a man, not a baby.”

But I simply smiled and pulled a pair of light pink plastic over his diaper and patted the front condescendingly. “No baby,” I said. “You’re here for a while longer. Just get some rest.”

I pulled the lid of the crib up and closed it tight. Jake cried even harder when he saw what was on the top bars of the crip. Attached to the top of the crib, was the laminated contract he had signed in order to come here.

The contract that reminded him that babies in my house needed to be good. That babies didn’t have errections. That babies acted like good babies. And next to the contract was a photo from earlier today of him in his high chair food all over his mouth and a thick diaper on display.

Yes, Jake would try and hump his diaper later that day.

All my babies always tried again. But thanks to the ball in his diaper, he wasn’t going to get an erection as long as he was in this nursery.

No, Jake was going to be a good baby while in my house.

Even if he hates every moment of it.

But he’ll learn his place.

Eventually.