kyleshouse
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My College Babies
🕑 Added 2023-03-20 08:04:02 +0000 UTC
Every year, there’s one.
Every year there’s one little boy who stumbles into my web, innocently thinking he’s getting the experience of a lifetime. But instead, he’s just mine until I decide to let him go.
It’s simple how it starts.
You see, most of these young men are coming from a town a little north of here. It’s one of those crazy religious towns where even holding hands in public can get you the fury of the bishop. No doubt in this town, Sundays are not just for football. They’re for praying to the heavens, asking the Almighty to spare you from whatever cruel whim crosses the deity’s mind.
They should have been praying not to discover me.
Once they’re old enough, all the young men go away to college, and many of them come here. To this nice liberal arts college in Aviation City. We aren’t a fancy city like New York or Washington, D.C. But we are kind here. We have each other's backs, we tip our waiters, and most of all, we mind our own fucking business.
No one is going to come over and ask you why they could have sworn they heard crying coming from my house all night last night as I made one of the boys punish themselves for not following my instructions while on campus. No, no one is nosey. No one cares. Except for me.
Anyway, once the kids come to campus, I simply wait for them to come to me. It usually takes about four weeks after they’ve settled in. After they’ve tasted the college girls and discovered that even their tight asses and firm tits aren’t enough to quench the edge of their thirst. These men want diapers, they need the diapers. They need mommy.
And I am mommy.
One of them always reaches out and says they just happened to come across my services on the internet. They want to know more about it, and how I can give them a service. How I could baby them for a few hours here and there.
The best part?
Most of them seem to think that it’s their idea. But it’s really not.
I ensure these babies see photos online of others who have come to my nursery, looking innocent and helpless in their cribs and high chairs. Outside in the grass playing, or even more deliciously, having their diapers changed in a park. This piques their curiosity, causes their small penises to twitch, and causes them to reach for their phones to send me a message.
But what they don’t see is the bigger picture. When Timothy came to the nursery, he was helpless in his crib. I made sure of it. All it takes is a little dose of my special milk, and these boys have the functionality of a two-year-old. Timmy had flopped around on the floor for a few minutes while my reading group undressed him, shaved all the hair off his body (we can’t have hair on babies now, can we?), and then locked his tiny penis into a micro chastity cage. We then wrapped him in several thick diapers and left him in the crib that was in the living room while we continued our reading group.
The helpless, scared look in his eyes was real. It wasn’t part of some fake session where it was just him and mommy. I don’t fake things. I give the real experiences these men need.
Like when I changed Luke’s diaper in the park, right across from the campus.
He had decided to ignore me when walking home from class one day, and I told him that I had no problem punishing him to remind him of his place. I think that because he was with his girlfriend at the time, he thought he could keep walking. But after some firm manhandling from my friends, he was over my lap on the park bench receiving 100 spanks, turning his bottom a crisp amber.
By the time I was finished with him, he had no choice but to turn over and receive his diaper change in the grass while his speechless girlfriend looked on.
“Watch closely,” I told the shocked women who had just stared, terrified and in complete disbelief. “You’ll need to do this all next week because this baby isn’t allowed to touch his diapers next week to remind him to be a good baby.”
He was taped snuggly into his diapers and a booster and sent on his way without any pants. I can’t remember if his girlfriend changed his diapers all that week, but from then on, he always said Hi Mommy, every time he saw me. Even when he was with his friends. Because the punishments can get worse.
But I get it. I understand. It’s hard to admit that you need a firm mommy to keep you safe, make you feel secure, and guide you into the discipline you need to successfully become the man you need to be. Besides, how could these boys know that this was the experience they were going to get?
They probably thought I’d just change their diapers, give them some cuddles and send them on their way. But that would be irresponsible of me. Completely irresponsible. These boys need the full mommy experience to become the responsible adults society needs them to be.
The first time they enter my house, I ask them what they want from the experience. Nine times out of ten, they tell me they really just want some diapering and the cuddles. You know, the usual stuff those boring mommies provide. I nod and ask them about their personal life. I need to know where they live on campus. Do they live alone? Do they live with a girlfriend? What classes are they taking? How often do their parents come and visit?
I ask them these questions for their own good, so I can curate an experience that makes the most sense for them. For example, if their parents come to visit once a month, that’s the week I’ll be sure to make sure they are diapered. So they’ll remember who their real mommy is while they’re having polite conversations with the adults who failed them as a child.
After they’ve answered all their questions, I tell them it’s time to do a quick inspection of their bodies. The men generally flinch at this. I’m not sure what they were expecting; they are here to be diapered,after all, I would be seeing their pee pees in due time. But this is different.
I actually built a special room for this inspection.
It’s filled with mirrors. But not just any kind of mirror. They’re actually slightly warped. You see, some of these men pull off their shorts with great excitement and strut into the room, certain the dick swinging between their legs will impress me. But while in the inspection room, their penises look tiny. Like little baby shrimp nestled between their legs. The mirrors aren’t magic or anything, but each of these wannabe men gasp at their sight and I take their penises and sigh with disappointment.
Before they enter the room, I fit each boy with a collar that keeps their necks straight. I tell them it’s because posture is critically important, and that will be the first lesson they will learn while they are with me. They will have good manners; they will have good posture, and they will be good for mommy.
Zach was terrified when he entered the mirror room for the first time. He kept trying to look down to see if what he saw in the mirror was real. His shrimp penis in the mirror was a respectable size in the real world, but I didn’t need him to know that. Boys with big dick energy were problematic enough already and needed to be taken down a peg or two. So I just put the small cocklet between my fingers, asked him if he needed tweezers to masturbate, and demanded he explain himself.
Zach stammered out an apology which caused my heart to explode in joy. He was sorry for having such a small penis. He hadn’t realized it was so small. Zach was stumbling over his words at this point, fumbling with my reality and his perception of reality. I asked him what it was I was holding between my fingers.
“It’s my dick.”
I glared at him from the mirror. “No, it’s not. What did we just discuss?”
“I.. I… am… sorry, ma’am?” He thought I was upset that he had not called me ma’am.
I had been very clear, I was mommy. Not ma’am, not Miss Jessica, not Mom. I was mommy. I squeeze his balls set him straight.
“My penis mommy,” Zach winced, still looking in horror at the tiny penis I was holding.
“I don’t think this is a penis now, is it?” I still held onto it with my delicate fingers.
“Mommy?” He was confused. They usually are at this point. None of them asked for this. But then again, people rarely ask for what they need.
“This one-inch, thing looks more like a pee pee than anything else. Limp and harmless.”
Zach gasped. He didn’t want to say that.
So I just hit his balls once.
“It’s my baby pee pee, mommy.”
“I want you to tell me that you don’t have a penis. Only grown men have a penis. You have a baby pee pee.”
Zach said it, a tear rolling down his cheek.
I smiled and had him say it about fifty more times before I was satisfied.
The mirror always made what happened next easier.
I kept them in the collar for their first diapering. The less they see their penis, the better. I don’t want them to get any ideas. Some of my boys I’d put in chastity while I had them on the bright pink nursery table. For others, I’d just tuck them down so they can’t get those nasty erections they all tend to get during their first diaper change with me.
All of them get the suppository.
I needed them to realize what it was like to be my helpless babies for a while.
They were asking for it, after all. Take Brandon’s application for a session with me.
He said he’d “like to know what it’s like to be a baby for a few hours.” The poor guy even said he wanted to feel helpless like a baby. Evidently, his life was stressful enough as it was, and this was one way he could get that relief.
I’ll be honest. I know why they’re asking for these things. It’s because they read too many AB/DL stories on Reddit and those other sites. They think that the young man can just go into a nursery, tell the Mommy what he wants, and at the end of the day, go home after a mind-blowing orgasm.
But babies don’t have orgasms. That’s for adults only.
No babies have to sit in their mess until an adult notices they need to be changed. They are snapped into baby onesies because it’s easier to keep their clothes on that way. And they’re strapped onto changing tables, because god forbid the baby roll off during a diaper change.
Brandon was put off by the mirror room and squirmed and whelped when I slid both suppositories into him. I guess he’s not used to Mommy putting fingers in his “no no” place. But once I got the diaper taped on him and the plastic pants rolled up his legs, along with the locking harness so bad babies couldn’t get their hands in trouble, I sent him into the playroom to have some fun.
The playroom was a room I had custom-built in my house. The architect was puzzled at first, when I insisted on supersizing the proportions of the room. I wanted the windows to take up each wall so they were floor to ceiling, I had a few baby mobiles installed throughout the room that were larger than life. But the thing I was most proud of, was the floor.
It was extremely bouncy, making it nearly impossible for a baby to walk across it, let alone one of my larger babies who were wearing a thick diaper and booties.
Every now and then, one of them would figure out how to stand up. But I knew how to nip that in the bud pretty quickly. A pair of spiky locking booties always did the trick. I loved watching them take a few tentative steps, insisting to me that they could walk with no problem, only to discover after a few steps they’d need to crawl on their hands and knees.
But Brandon was a fun one to watch. About twenty minutes into playing with the toys in the room, he got this look in his eyes. It was just about then I’d leave the room and tell him I’d be back in an hour or so. I closed and locked the door behind me, but not before I pressed the button on the wall that allowed the shades to rise.
That’s when Brandon saw that my house backed onto a busy street corner where students were walking about, minding their own business. And my windows were perfectly in view for everyone. What he didn’t know was that no one could see in, but there was no need to tell him that.
He needed to focus on not messing his diapers for mommy.
This was always my favorite part, watching these babies begin to bang at the door with their mittened fists, or just break down in tears, knowing they were about to make a massive, smelly present for mommy.
The suppositories were a special blend of mine. I made them myself. They were slow to release so each of my babies would be messing several times over the next hour. The first time was humiliating. The back of the diaper proofing out with a massive mess. The second time was demoralizing. The diaper just continued to expand while the wearer realized that they had absolutely no control. By the third and fourth time, the little ones were absolutely sobbing, realizing that they’d already spent a significant amount of time in the diaper and that there was no sign of mommy coming back anytime soon.
They always cried. They always pitched a fit.
They begged they pleaded.
But best of all, all of them thought that the people on the street, the ones living their lives and minding their own business, could see them do their infantile deed.
After a while, I’d return to the nursery and the now humbled men would look in my direction and beg for someone to change their diaper. Sometimes I’d say yes and drag them over to the changing table next to the window. But other times I’d say that I needed to run a quick errand and that’d I’d be back soon and instead help them into the giant crib next to the window.
I’d tell them that they needed to be safe, so of course, I’d strap them to the crib mattress on their back, and give them a pacifier to suck on. No one wants babies who will spend all day crying. Even if they did need a change.
But my favorite thing to do was to ask my babies if they needed a change, have them beg for one, and then reveal that my guest who was over would change them because “mommy is busy and just doesn’t have time.”
They’d beg for mercy at that point. They’d insist that this wasn’t what they wanted, this wasn’t the plan, and this wasn’t what they paid for.
But I know what they needed. I know these men need to be just like babies.
This is why when Tommy was in the nursery, I brought the woman he had slept with the week before into the room to change his packed pampers.
He had begged for a change and was about to get the most humiliating change possible.
***
Comments
Thank you! Wait until part two... :)
This was such a riveting read
