From Wife to Baby (Patreon)

Emily groaned as she stumbled into her empty bedroom after another long day at work. The stressful demands of her job had taken a toll on her; all she wanted to do was collapse into bed and forget about everything for a little while.

But as she opened the door, she saw something unexpected.

A young woman, no older than twenty, was sitting on her bed, flipping through a magazine. She was the definition of hot—long legs, large breasts, tall, and with eyes that could pierce right through anyone. On the other hand, Emily was already showing signs of age. She wasn't ugly or anything, and most people say she was aging like fine wine. But her body was getting chubbier, and her breasts were starting to sag slightly.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said, standing up and offering a hand. "My name is Paris. I'm the new maid. Your husband hired me."

Emily hesitated for a moment before shaking the young woman's hand. She wasn't used to having strangers in her bedroom, let alone ones she had never met before. She knew her husband had been looking for a new maid, and she trusted his judgment, but a little warning would've been appreciated.

Paris looked her up and down, taking in her rumpled work clothes and tired expression. "You look like you've had a long day," she said sympathetically. "Why don't you sit down and relax for a bit? I'll bring you something to drink."

Before Emily could protest, Paris bustled out of the room. A few moments later, she returned with a glass of wine and a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks," Emily said, taking a sip. "I really do appreciate it. It's just been a stressful day at work."

Paris nodded in understanding. "I know how that goes. That's why I'm here, to take care of the house and help you relax a little bit. Your husband mentioned that you could use some extra help."

Emily frowned at the mention of her husband. He had been working longer and longer hours lately, and she barely saw him anymore. The thought of having a stranger in the house made her uneasy, but she knew they needed the help. There were too many things to do, and her job was becoming more and more difficult by the day. She had thought about taking a sabbatical, but in her career, leaving for a year would mean starting over.

"So, your name is Paris. That's a pretty name."

"Thanks, ma'am."

Emily decided to take on the offer. After all, she needed the rest, but she wasn't sure how she could relax with a stranger in her house.

As if reading her mind, Paris spoke up again. "Don't worry. I won't get in your way. I'll be like a ghost, just flitting around and taking care of things behind the scenes. You won't even know I'm here."

Despite her reservations, Emily couldn't help but feel a little bit grateful. She was exhausted, and the thought of having someone else take care of the house was a relief. The last maid had lasted a few months. Too much house, she had said, and she was right. Their house was an inheritance from Robb's mother. It was old and big but welcoming and warm.

"You relax, okay?"

As Paris left the room, Emily lay down on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to push away the stress of the day. She didn't notice Paris lingering in the doorway, watching her with a curious expression. Something about the young woman made Emily feel uneasy, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

…

Over the next few days, Emily noticed that Paris had started taking on more tasks around the house. She would vacuum the carpets, dust the furniture, and even do the laundry without being asked. Emily was impressed by Paris's efficiency, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off about her.

One evening, as Emily was cooking dinner in the kitchen, Paris came in to help. "You shouldn't be doing all of this by yourself," she said, taking a knife and starting to chop vegetables. "You work hard enough as it is."

Emily was surprised by Paris's sudden display of concern, but she appreciated the help.

After dinner, Emily went to the living room to watch TV while Paris cleaned up the kitchen. She had a glass of wine in her hand, and pressure was building up on her forehead. Work that day had pushed her to her limits, and she wasn't ready to go back the next day. Maybe she could call in sick.

She thought about that as she made her way back to her bedroom, but as soon as she opened the door, she was surprised by the sight of Paris standing in front of her dresser, holding up a pair of Emily's used panties.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Emily stuttered, feeling her cheeks turn red.

Paris turned around with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Just looking. Have you been taught to clean yourself properly after going potty, ma'am?"

Emily felt a sudden wave of embarrassment and self-consciousness wash over her. No other maid had ever said anything about her underwear, but she knew. She knew she didn't always clean properly after going to the bathroom. She knew that sometimes she just didn't have the time or energy to keep her parts one hundred percent clean every single time.

"Potty?"

That was a strange way to call it. IT felt like something someone would say to a toddler or little girl, not an adult.

"Please, Paris. Leave my room, or there will be consequences," said Emily, trying to sound imposing even though she was blushing and shaking as she spoke.

But, without warning, Paris grabbed Emily by the hand and rushed her to the bathroom. Emily was in shock, and her reactions were becoming slower thanks to the several wine glasses she had drunk so far.

"Show me," said Paris.

"What?"

"Go potty, and show me how you clean yourself after."

"I'm not peeing in front of you. Are you nuts?"

"Are you calling me crazy?"

Emily nodded, "I want you out of my fucking house."

Paris smirked.

She grabbed Emily again and pulled her pants so fast, the older woman couldn't react.

"Stop. You are crazy! Get off of me. Stop it. I'll call the cops."

But the new maid didn't stop. She sat over the bathtub's edge; tall and strong as she was, she grabbed Emily, forcing her on her lap.

"I won't tolerate potty mouths in this house."

Emily couldn't grasp what was happening until she felt the first smack against her round buttcheeks. She tried to free herself. She tried to fight it. But Paris was stronger than she looked, and she already looked strong.

SMACK!

"Please," said Emily, sobbing, "Let me go, please."

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

"I'll do anything," said Emily, tears running down her cheeks, "Let me go, please. I won't call the cops. I'll say nothing."

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

"I'm sorry. I won't talk back. I'm sorry."

The spanking stopped immediately.

"Well, that's all I wanted to hear. Remember that I'm just here to help you. And if I believe your potty skills need to be attuned, you will know that that's for the best. Isn't it?"

Emily nodded. Her face was a mess, red and inflamed, with tears still running constantly.

"Good. Because I'm about to say something you won't like."

Emily's heart stopped.

"You just showed me you cannot be trusted to follow my orders. Do you know who else doesn't follow orders and cannot keep their panties dry?"

Emily shook her head.

"Little girls. And I think, if you are going to act like one, maybe that's because you want to be one."

"I'm not a little girl."

"Are you contradicting me?"

Emily's knees shook, "No."

"Good. So you agree, you are a little girl."

Emily nodded, sobbing.

"Perfect. Then let's get you into something more appropriate for your age."

Paris grabbed Emily's hand and led her outside the bathroom. Her plan was working, and soon, little Emily's life would be completely different.