To all the Naughty Mommies: a fantasy
Posted: Wed Apr 13, 2011 5:58 pm
(Just a little harmless fun… please don’t call the cops!)
You know, it occurs to me:
Many (if not most) of the mommies, sitters, teachers etc. on this site are downright cruel to the little babies around here. Spanking, punishing, and humiliating them for things that they don’t have control of… dare I say your behavior seems decidedly… naughty?
It wouldn’t be so bad if you were merely providing guidance for the little sprats, but many of you don’t seem to feel remorse for your behavior. You seem proud, almost giddy with your abuse of power—almost as though you’re actually enjoying inflicting pain and humiliation on the hapless little tykes!
If you ask me it’s high time the changing tables were turned. For a group of supposedly mature women, you’ve been collectively acting like spoiled little brats in need of a taste of your own medicine.
I’m letting each and every one of you naughty little urchins know… through my highly placed sources, I’ve discovered your secret identities and, like Santa, I’m going on a little cross-country tour.
Unlike the fat man in the red suit, however, everyone on my list has been a naughty girl. And instead of coal, I’m bringing red bottoms and fluffy diapers!
That’s right, ladies: from now on you’ll never know if the guy with the perfect teeth and bulging muscles sitting next to you is grinning at you because he’s imagining an evening of passion… or if he’s thinking about how adorable the big, mean mommy is going to look crawling around in a nice, fluffy diaper.
You may be reluctant, but my charms are irresistible. Giving yourself over to my kisses and caresses, you’ll be utterly defenseless, so wrapped up in your own pleasure that you won’t sense the snare tightening all around you…
And then, before you know it, you’re over my knee getting a sound spanking on your milky white tushy! You’ll kick and squeal like a little girl, but I’ll stand firm in my resolve, swatting your little buns until they’re bright pink, then kissing them all over before I send you to stand in the corner with a rosy bottom.
And while you stand in the corner, kneading those sore little cheeks and pouting over your misfortune, I’ll be laying out your fluffy pampers and frilly baby pants, getting you ready for your diapers. You’ll whine and plead “please daddy, don’t diaper me!” But I’ll cut your protests off by popping a pacifier into your pouty little mouth.
I’ll lay you down on your diaper, making sure to give you plenty of oil on your sore backside and pretty privates. Despite your embarrassment, you’ll coo and squirm excitedly at receiving such expert treatment from a strong, handsome man. And when I finally pull your diaper up nice and tight between your legs, you’ll blush and remember that it was only hours earlier that YOU were the one doing the diapering. Once you’re sealed in nice and tight, a frilly pink baby bonnet completes your adorable new outfit.
Then I’ll pull you into my lap and feed you your bottle. Nestled against my chest, you’ll wonder what’s more embarrassing: being diapered like a little girl and cuddling up in Dada’s lap to suck down a bottle—or the fact that you’re actually enjoying yourself?
When you finish, we’ll cuddle for a moment. You love the warmth and attention… but why does your tummy feel so crampy all of a sudden?
Silly me: did I forget to mention I’d flavored your bottle with a potent laxative?
Your cheeks flush bright red even as your pretty eyes go wide and you beg me: “Please, daddy: please let me go potty like a big girl!”
“Sorry, precious,” I smile kindly, kissing you on the forehead and slipping your pacifier back in, “you’ve lost your potty privileges for the night!”
You squirm and struggle in protest, but my response is to kiss and cuddle you, reminding you of how sweet and adorable you are… reassuring you that I’m here to take care of you now. You cramp and squirm, tummy gurgling like a water cooler; sweat beads down your forehead as you realize the severity of the diarrheic explosion building inside you.
You wriggle in my lap, caught between you’re desire to stay and be coddled and your need to leap up and make a desperate dash for the toilet. As I press the thick diaper between your legs, making you moan and shiver, your stomach cramps, your bowels boil, and you feel the pressure building down below. You sweat and clench your dainty butt cheeks, trying to maintain your dignity as my touch brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your whole world closes in, the pleasure between your legs entwining with the awful pressure in your tummy, building and building, until you just can’t take it anymore and…
You erupt into your waiting pampers, gas rumbling loudly as you fill the seat of your diapers. It is (you think, the warm, mushy mess enveloping your buttocks) without a doubt the biggest, wettest, noisiest mess you’ve ever made, right into the seat of your pants… and in front of a sexy man, to boot! The relief is indescribable—you give in to the pleasure, your entire world imploding into climax.
As the pleasure ebbs away, embarrassment begins to settle in: You shift your butt, mushing the warm pile in your pants around your backside; unable to believe the size of the load in your diapers. “Daddy,” you say, beginning to cry a little, “me go poopy!”
But I’m quick to reassure you: Daddy loves his princess (even when she’s messy), and he’d never punish her for something she has no control over.
Within seconds, you’re on the floor, legs up, in the midst of a messy didy change. I clean you off tenderly, as befits a pampered princess like you. Red-face, you squirm on the floor, totally em-bare-assed at having a man wipe your butt for you—just like a helpless little baby!
All clean now—how wonderful that cool wipe feels on your messy bottom! I delay diapering you to play a bit, tickling your ribs and blowing raspberries against your bare tummy, making you giggle and squirm. Before you know it, you’re oiled, powdered, and diapered once more.
Picking you up, I carry you into your room. You blush when I show you your new PJ’s: pink flannel, with little feet and a drop-hatch in the seat—“the better to spank you with,” I tell you, zipping you up into the warm, fuzzy embrace of your sleep suit.
With a firm pat on your diapered backside, I usher you under the covers and tuck you in.
“Now,” I ask sternly, “have you learned the proper way to treat a baby, young lady?”
You nod eagerly—indeed, it’ll be a lesson you won’t soon forget.
“Very good,” I say, rising and moving toward the door. “Tomorrow morning you may take off your diapers and resume your life as a grown woman.”
Squirming your well-spanked bottom in your warm, fluffy diapers, you reflect that thinking of yourself as a woman again may be difficult for the foreseeable future.
“Nighty night, sweetheart.” I click off the lights and close the door behind me.
One more name to strike off my list, I think with a smile.
You know, it occurs to me:
Many (if not most) of the mommies, sitters, teachers etc. on this site are downright cruel to the little babies around here. Spanking, punishing, and humiliating them for things that they don’t have control of… dare I say your behavior seems decidedly… naughty?
It wouldn’t be so bad if you were merely providing guidance for the little sprats, but many of you don’t seem to feel remorse for your behavior. You seem proud, almost giddy with your abuse of power—almost as though you’re actually enjoying inflicting pain and humiliation on the hapless little tykes!
If you ask me it’s high time the changing tables were turned. For a group of supposedly mature women, you’ve been collectively acting like spoiled little brats in need of a taste of your own medicine.
I’m letting each and every one of you naughty little urchins know… through my highly placed sources, I’ve discovered your secret identities and, like Santa, I’m going on a little cross-country tour.
Unlike the fat man in the red suit, however, everyone on my list has been a naughty girl. And instead of coal, I’m bringing red bottoms and fluffy diapers!
That’s right, ladies: from now on you’ll never know if the guy with the perfect teeth and bulging muscles sitting next to you is grinning at you because he’s imagining an evening of passion… or if he’s thinking about how adorable the big, mean mommy is going to look crawling around in a nice, fluffy diaper.
You may be reluctant, but my charms are irresistible. Giving yourself over to my kisses and caresses, you’ll be utterly defenseless, so wrapped up in your own pleasure that you won’t sense the snare tightening all around you…
And then, before you know it, you’re over my knee getting a sound spanking on your milky white tushy! You’ll kick and squeal like a little girl, but I’ll stand firm in my resolve, swatting your little buns until they’re bright pink, then kissing them all over before I send you to stand in the corner with a rosy bottom.
And while you stand in the corner, kneading those sore little cheeks and pouting over your misfortune, I’ll be laying out your fluffy pampers and frilly baby pants, getting you ready for your diapers. You’ll whine and plead “please daddy, don’t diaper me!” But I’ll cut your protests off by popping a pacifier into your pouty little mouth.
I’ll lay you down on your diaper, making sure to give you plenty of oil on your sore backside and pretty privates. Despite your embarrassment, you’ll coo and squirm excitedly at receiving such expert treatment from a strong, handsome man. And when I finally pull your diaper up nice and tight between your legs, you’ll blush and remember that it was only hours earlier that YOU were the one doing the diapering. Once you’re sealed in nice and tight, a frilly pink baby bonnet completes your adorable new outfit.
Then I’ll pull you into my lap and feed you your bottle. Nestled against my chest, you’ll wonder what’s more embarrassing: being diapered like a little girl and cuddling up in Dada’s lap to suck down a bottle—or the fact that you’re actually enjoying yourself?
When you finish, we’ll cuddle for a moment. You love the warmth and attention… but why does your tummy feel so crampy all of a sudden?
Silly me: did I forget to mention I’d flavored your bottle with a potent laxative?
Your cheeks flush bright red even as your pretty eyes go wide and you beg me: “Please, daddy: please let me go potty like a big girl!”
“Sorry, precious,” I smile kindly, kissing you on the forehead and slipping your pacifier back in, “you’ve lost your potty privileges for the night!”
You squirm and struggle in protest, but my response is to kiss and cuddle you, reminding you of how sweet and adorable you are… reassuring you that I’m here to take care of you now. You cramp and squirm, tummy gurgling like a water cooler; sweat beads down your forehead as you realize the severity of the diarrheic explosion building inside you.
You wriggle in my lap, caught between you’re desire to stay and be coddled and your need to leap up and make a desperate dash for the toilet. As I press the thick diaper between your legs, making you moan and shiver, your stomach cramps, your bowels boil, and you feel the pressure building down below. You sweat and clench your dainty butt cheeks, trying to maintain your dignity as my touch brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your whole world closes in, the pleasure between your legs entwining with the awful pressure in your tummy, building and building, until you just can’t take it anymore and…
You erupt into your waiting pampers, gas rumbling loudly as you fill the seat of your diapers. It is (you think, the warm, mushy mess enveloping your buttocks) without a doubt the biggest, wettest, noisiest mess you’ve ever made, right into the seat of your pants… and in front of a sexy man, to boot! The relief is indescribable—you give in to the pleasure, your entire world imploding into climax.
As the pleasure ebbs away, embarrassment begins to settle in: You shift your butt, mushing the warm pile in your pants around your backside; unable to believe the size of the load in your diapers. “Daddy,” you say, beginning to cry a little, “me go poopy!”
But I’m quick to reassure you: Daddy loves his princess (even when she’s messy), and he’d never punish her for something she has no control over.
Within seconds, you’re on the floor, legs up, in the midst of a messy didy change. I clean you off tenderly, as befits a pampered princess like you. Red-face, you squirm on the floor, totally em-bare-assed at having a man wipe your butt for you—just like a helpless little baby!
All clean now—how wonderful that cool wipe feels on your messy bottom! I delay diapering you to play a bit, tickling your ribs and blowing raspberries against your bare tummy, making you giggle and squirm. Before you know it, you’re oiled, powdered, and diapered once more.
Picking you up, I carry you into your room. You blush when I show you your new PJ’s: pink flannel, with little feet and a drop-hatch in the seat—“the better to spank you with,” I tell you, zipping you up into the warm, fuzzy embrace of your sleep suit.
With a firm pat on your diapered backside, I usher you under the covers and tuck you in.
“Now,” I ask sternly, “have you learned the proper way to treat a baby, young lady?”
You nod eagerly—indeed, it’ll be a lesson you won’t soon forget.
“Very good,” I say, rising and moving toward the door. “Tomorrow morning you may take off your diapers and resume your life as a grown woman.”
Squirming your well-spanked bottom in your warm, fluffy diapers, you reflect that thinking of yourself as a woman again may be difficult for the foreseeable future.
“Nighty night, sweetheart.” I click off the lights and close the door behind me.
One more name to strike off my list, I think with a smile.
