You Only Get What You Pay For -- (Author) Zorbit
You Only Get What You Pay For -- (Author) Zorbit
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 19, 2025 at 3:35 PM
Content: This is a complete story but it might take me a day or two to post all the chapters.
Hope you enjoy it.
You Only Get What You Pay For
Chapter 1
Laura rings the doorbell and hears an electronic latch release.
‘Please come in,’ recites a synthesised female voice. Laura warily nudges the door open and finds herself looking down at a blue-eyed, blonde haired toddler boy.
‘You must be Philip,’ she says, smiling. She reaches down and takes his hand. ‘Shall we go and find your mommy and daddy?’
‘They’re not here,’ the little boy informs her, with precocious fluency.
‘Have they left you all on your own?’ Laura demands. Surely, they haven’t left a toddler unattended.
‘They died, three years ago,’ the baby voice replies. ‘When I was sixteen.’
‘You’re nineteen?’ Laura drops the chubby little hand as if it’s red hot.
‘Uh-huh,’ the man-toddler drawls.
‘Oh, I see.’ Laura revises her first impressions. ‘It’s your carer’s night off, right?’
‘I don’t need a carer,’ Philip replies, looking earnestly up at her. ‘My dad had the place adapted so I can look after myself. Come and see.’
Laura follows him into an open plan living room and kitchen-diner. There are step-stools up so that the little guy can reach whatever he needs, and easy-open catches and push-button switches everywhere.
‘I order everything online,’ says Philip proudly. ‘Microwave meals and stuff, mostly. And a contractor handles cleaning and repairs and maintenance.’
‘Ok,’ says Laura. ‘So, if you can manage on your own, why have you hired a babysitter?’
Philip climbs onto the settee and pats the seat beside him.
‘Company,’ he says, with a very knowing leer.
‘I’m a babysitter not a call-girl,’ snaps Laura.
‘I don’t want a call-girl,’ Philip sulks. ‘I just want some female company.’
‘So, you hired a babysitter?’
Philip spreads his hands and looks down at himself.
‘I’m not going to meet a girl any other way, am I?’
Laura stares at him.
‘So,’ she says at last, ‘are you a grown-up midget or did you get stuck as a toddler?’
Philip waggles his eyebrows at her.
‘Why don’t we have a drink, and maybe you’ll find out?’ He climbs off the setter and toddles towards the drinks cabinet.
‘Oh no you don’t!’ Laura lifts him off his feet and deposits him back on the sofa. ‘I’ll make the drinks, so I’ll know what I’m drinking!’ And I’ll decide what you’re drinking too, she thinks.
‘Help yourself to anything you want,’ Philip calls after her.
‘And what do you want,’ she asks, sarcastically. ‘Kool Aid?
‘Coke,’ Philip replies indignantly.
‘Coke it is.’ With a measure of vodka, Laura adds to herself.
Half an hour later, Laura is still stone cold sober, while Philip is too tipsy to talk properly - or to lie.
‘So, what were you hoping we’d do this evening, Philip?’ she asks, seductively.
‘A little touchy-feely,’ the diminutive lothario slurs.
‘Oh, really?’ Laura scowls at him. ‘Touchy-feely?’
‘Yeah.’ He stretches a podgy hand towards Laura’s breasts - and promptly falls into a drunken sleep.
Laura leaves him snoring gently on the sofa, fetches a couple of bags from her car and finds Philip’s bedroom. It has obviously been his bedroom since he was born. The furniture is good quality, but well-worn, nursery furniture. The cot has one side removed, so it can be used as a bed, but the spare side is conveniently tucked between the cot and the wall. Laura smiles. Perfect.
Philip barely stirs as Laura strips off his clothes, revealing that he is more toddler than midget, and diapers him with a Pampers Baby Dry. Even when she eases his arms into the baby dress and buttons it at the back, and then pulls a pair of plastic-lined, frilly baby panties up over his diaper, he only grumbles a little in his sleep. Ditto with the mittens that fasten with snaps at the wrist. When she pops the pacifier in his mouth, and he immediately starts sucking on the teat, Laura struggles not to laugh out loud.
She lays Philip gently in his cot, raises the newly reinstalled side, and then goes back to the living room to read the magazine she brought with her.
Chapter 2
Philip wakes to twilight, a headache, and something filling his mouth. He spits it out and sits himself up, discovering, as he does that a) the thing he just spat out is a baby’s pacifier, b) he is wearing a diaper, and a baby girl’s dress and panties, and c) he is looking at his bedroom through vertical bars. Slowly, the evening comes back to him, Laura making the drinks, the two of them talking, the room starting to spin and then fading gently away. He scrambles to his feet, feeling his head throb and spin, and yells at the top of his voice.
‘Laura!’
She walks into the room.
‘Did you have a nice nap?’ she asks, raising a mocking eyebrow.
‘It’s not funny!’ Philip snaps.
‘Getting me here under false pretences, planning to get me drunk, and then molest me wasn’t funny either,’ Laura retorts.
Philip isn’t listening.
‘Get me out of this cot!’ he demands.
‘Get yourself out,’ Laura replies.
‘I can’t.’ Philip sulks.
‘You’d better ask nicely, then,’ says Laura, arms folded.
‘Please,’ mumbles Philip.
‘Please what?’ asks Laura.
‘Please get me out.’
‘Get you out of where?’
‘This cot,’ snaps Philip.
‘Whose cot?’ asks Laura, raising an eyebrow. ‘And before you answer, if you don’t ask really nicely, you’ll be staying in there all night, in a diaper.’
Philip huffs.
‘Please get me out of my cot.’ His demoralised little voice sounds quite sweet, thinks Laura.
‘Arms up then,’ she prompts, waiting until he does as he’s told before lifting him into her arms. She pats his bottom. He’s still dry, as she expected. ‘Do we need to change your dydee?’ she coos anyway, just to remind him what he’s wearing.
‘No!’ he replies, sounding outraged.
‘That’s alright then.’ Laura carries him out to the hall, where a full-length mirror is fixed to the wall. She stands him down, facing it.
Philip cheeks burn crimson as he catches sight of his reflection and sees properly what he is wearing: a short, pink, smock dress, that is nowhere near long enough to cover the pink, frilly panties that cover his obviously diapered bottom. Matching pink mittens encase his hands.
What have you done to me?’ he seethes.
‘Got you drunk, diapered you, and dressed you as a baby girl,’ Laura replies, stating the obvious.
‘I can see that,’ sulks Philip. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’m a babysitter,’ said Laura. ‘I take care of babies. When somebody hires me, I expect to take care of a baby, not entertain a lecherous little midget.’
‘I’m not lecherous!’ Philip protests. Laura notices that he can’t quite pronounce the “r”. He sounds rather cute, and he looks cute too, with his soft, blond hair setting off the pink baby girl outfit.
‘What else do you call it, when you lure me here under false pretences, hoping for a bit of “touchy feely”?’ she demands.
‘I just wanted to be like other guys my age,’ Philip whines, ‘and make out with a girl.’
‘Then you should have used a dating agency, not a babysitting service.’ She frowns. ‘How did you even manage to hire me?’ He must have sounded like a toddler on the phone.
‘I used a voice changer, so I sounded like my mom,’ says Philip, looking smug.
‘Why didn’t you just use a dating app or call an escort agency?’ asks Laura impatiently. Philip hangs his head.
‘Because I knew I’d be safe with a babysitter,’ he mumbles. Laura almost laughs, despite her annoyance.
‘Well, you know what?’ she says, lifting him into her arms and patting his bottom as she turns towards the mirror, presenting him an image of a young woman petting a toddler. ‘If you hire a babysitter, you get babysat.’
‘I don’t need a babysitter!’ Philips snaps. ‘I’m nineteen, I’m grown up!’
‘Oh we`ll,’ says Laura, standing him down again. ‘If you don’t need a babysitter, I’ll get my things and go.’
She steps into the lounge, gathers up her bag and goes to the front door.
‘Wait!’ cries Philip. ‘You can’t leave me like this?’
‘Like what?’ demands Laura.
Philip looks down at himself and holds up his little mittened hands.
‘Like this!’
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage,’ Laura replies. ‘After all you’re nineteen and all grown up.’ She reaches for the latch. ‘I’ve made a note of the door code, so I can drop by in the morning, to check you’re ok. My number’s on my card, in the lounge, if you need me before then.’
With that, she walks out, pulling the door closed behind her.
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 19, 2025 at 3:40 PM
Content: Chapter 3
Right until he hears her start her car and drive away, Philip expects Laura to come back, but she doesn’t. He turns around, sees a blonde haired, blue eyed, toddler girl looking back at him from the mirror and, for the first time since just after his parents died, he feels small and frightened -but more than anything he feels angry.
How dare she do this to him? he seethes stamping his feet and going red in the face - until he sees the toddler in the mirror, in mid-tantrum.
And then, he remembers how cross Laura was about what he had planned for this evening, and he begins to feel ashamed - but then he feels something more urgent: the need to pee. He tugs at the mittens, but they are firmly fastened around his wrists. Dancing around, desperately trying not to pee, he finds the snap fasteners that secure the mittens and tries to open them with his teeth, panic setting in as they remain stubbornly closed. It’s too late anyway. His knees tremble as his bladder lets go, the hot flood drowning his crotch for a moment, before the Pampers swells between his legs to absorb his wetting. Thoroughly demoralised and humiliated, Philip bursts into tears.
Now what is he going to do? If he can’t get the mittens off, he will have to stay in a wet diaper all night and suffer the shame of Laura changing him in the morning.
Changing him? What is he thinking of? He’s not going to let her change him! As soon as she gets these mittens off him, he’s going to…
Except there’s nothing he can do, apart from report her to the cops. And if the cops get involved, they’ll take one look at him and get a welfare officer involved, and then he’ll probably be put into some sort of institution for people who can’t look after themselves - or even worse an orphanage. And if they put him in an orphanage, they'll take one look at him and put in with the babies - and then he’ll be in diapers for the rest of his life!
He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself and think clearly. All he needs to do is get these mittens off. If he keeps cool and doesn’t panic, then he’ll find a way, he tells himself, waddling into the living room, acutely conscious of the bulky, wet Pampers between his chubby thighs. Half an hour later, he has exhausted every idea, except those involving knives or other sharp objects, and the last thing he wants to do is accidentally slash his wrists.
Perhaps he can get the diaper off, even if he can’t get out of the mittens. Shame he didn't think of that before he wet himself. Too late now. Anyhow, it doesn’t matter, as long as he gets himself out of the wet diaper. But first he needs to get these stupid, frilly baby panties off. He tries to grasp the waistband through the mittens, but the mittens have a loose, silky, lining, making it impossible to get hold of anything between fingers and thumb. After a minute or two of scrabbling and snatching and pushing at the pants, he gives up, the elastic still snugly in place around his waist and the tops of his thighs. He waddles over to the sofa, climbs onto it and cries himself to sleep.
*
It takes Philip a moment to work out where he is when he wakes up, and a few more moments to realise that he is diapered and dressed as a baby girl, his hands encased in mittens, leaving him helpless until Laura returns in the morning. Oh yes, and he wet his diaper and then cried himself to sleep. He groans. What possessed him to try and get some female company by hiring a babysitter?
He looks at the clock on the wall. It is just after three in the morning. His head aches, and he feels hungry and thirsty, his stomach growling for food. He rolls off the sofa and waddles towards the kitchen, where he finds the larder empty, and a note from Laura: -
"I have put anything baby might choke on out of reach. You will find supper and breakfast prepared in the refrigerator."
With a sigh, Philip waddles over to the refrigerator and pulls open the door to find two full baby bottles. He can tell, by the creamy colour, that they are filled with baby formula, and not just milk from a carton. There is nothing else within reach though, so what choice does he have? He takes one of the bottles between his bemittened hands, and nudges the door closed with his diapered bottom, shuddering at the blast of cold air expelled from the refrigerator. He wants to go to bed, but Laura has put the cot side back on, literally barring his way. Perhaps he can at least pull his sheet and blanket through the bars though. He waddles through to his bedroom, absent-mindedly carrying the bottle with him, and sees that Laura has lowered the cot side so that he can climb in. Philip props the bottle against the headboard and then, feeling more like a toddler than ever, climbs over the lowered cot side and rolls onto the mattress. Using both hands, he manages to pull the covers over himself and then grabs the bottle.
It is disconcerting to find just how easily he slips into the suckling rhythm.
Suck-suck-suck-swallow; suck-suck-suck-swallow.
The formula tastes familiar, creamy and sweet and slightly salty, and the feeling of it filling his empty stomach is calming and comforting. A memory comes back to him of mommy…
Mommy? When did he last think of her as mommy?
He slips back into the memory of laying in his mother’s arms, suckling on a bottle as she speaks softly to him, words he doesn’t understand, but a gentle voice that matches the loving smile. Suddenly he is wetting himself again, but he is too drowsy and full of formula to feel more than a twinge of humiliation and a pleasant warmth inside his diaper. The teat begins to collapse and squelch as the bottle empties, and the spreading heat in his freshly wet diaper fades. Philip drops the bottle through the cot bars and turns onto his tummy, his gaze falling upon an open pack of Pampers on the bedside cabinet.
Baby Dry. Size 4. Up 12 hours of Dryness.
He yawns and falls asleep.
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 19, 2025 at 3:42 PM
Content: Chapter 4
‘Pip. Wakey-wakey baby.’
Philip stretches drowsily and makes a little noise in his throat as he feels Mommy patting his diapered bottom.
‘Pip,’ the sing-song voice calls again. ‘Wake up, baby.’
He rolls onto his back, stretching again and opening his eyes. Laura smiles down at him, chuckling.
‘Hallo, sleepyhead. Shall we get you up?’ She lifts the dumbstruck Philip into her arms and pats his bottom. ‘Let’s get baby her breakfast.’
In a moment, the drowsiness and strange feeling of childish dependency are gone, and last night’s anger returns.
‘I’m not a bab-bbb!’ He is silenced by a pacifier being pushed between his lips, its teat almost filling his mouth.
‘I think you’ve already proved that you are a baby,’ says Laura. ‘Grown-ups don’t take themselves to bed with a bottle of formula, do they?’
‘I gock colg,’ Philip protests, not thinking to spit out the pacifier that he can’t help sucking on for some reason.
‘Is baby warm enough now?’ asks Laura. Philip nods and then realises what he has answered.
‘I gock a gagy!’
‘Let’s see what we can find for breakfast,’ Laura chuckles, giving his bottom another pat.’ Another pleasant baby memory rises to the surface: Mommy feeding him milky cereal as he sits in his highchair. And there, as Laura carries him into the kitchen, is that same highchair. He realises that he is sucking urgently on his pacifier.
Fifteen minutes later, Philip is reliving his infant memory as he finds himself strapped into the highchair, a bib tied under his chin, and being fed baby muesli.
‘So, this is how it’s going to work, Pip,’ Laura had said, as she prepared his breakfast. ‘If you’re a good baby this morning, then I’ll get you out of those baby girl clothes and take your mittens off. But if you get cranky, then I will just change your diaper and put you back in your cot, with the side raised and only a bottle for company. Understand?’
Philip had nodded. What choice did he have? With the mittens in place, he was entirely dependent upon her, but once they were off… What then?
She would go, leaving him to carry on with his life as he had for the last three years, since his parents’ fatal car crash.
Alone.
But he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. It’s … well … lonely. And although Laura has outwitted and humiliated him, he sort of likes her. She has a mischievous sense of humour, even if he is on the receiving end of it right now, and she is - he hates how much a part of him craves it - maternal. He likes her smile, and the twinkle of laughter in her eye, as she feeds him his cereal, and he likes her gentle voice. He must be smiling because Laura is smiling back.
‘Do you like your breakfast?’ she coos. ‘Are you enjoying it?’
What a question! The trouble is, he is enjoying it, but he daren’t admit it, so he just replies with an embarrassed gurgle. And then, before he can stop himself, he is wetting his diaper. Laura sees the look of horror on his face, and the way he suddenly draws his knees up.
‘Did you just wet your diaper, baby?’
Philip is about to yell, “I’m not a baby!” when he remembers Laura’s warning, so he just nods sheepishly. Laura removes the now empty bowl and spoon, and then she places a trainer cup of orange juice on the highchair tray.
‘Drink up all your juice and then we’ll make you nice and dry and comfortable, Pip.’
Philip grasps the cup with both mittened hands and clamps his lips around the spout.
*
Philip wasn’t sure what he expected, when Laura promised to get him out of the baby girl clothes, and take off the mittens, if he behaved like a good baby at breakfast time, but it wasn’t this.
She has taken off the dress and panties, and removed his wet diaper, but the mittens are still encasing his hands as Laura gently, and very thoroughly, cleans him with baby wipes.
‘I hate to say this, Pip,’ she sighs, ‘but you are not a very grown up nineteen-year-old.’ Philip lushes as Laura chuckles. ‘Nineteen months, maybe.’
‘Don’t make fun of me,’ Philip whines.
‘I’m not,’ says Laura. ‘You’re the cutest nineteen-year-old I’ve ever met.’ Her smile disappears. ‘It’s just a shame you had to spoil it by having a filthy mind.’
‘I haven’t,’ Philip protests. ‘I just… I just…’
‘Wanted to be like other guys your age?’
‘Yeah.’
‘But you’re not like other guys your age, Pip,’ says Laura reaching for the Pampers packet. ‘And you never will be. Besides, the average nineteen-year-old guy is pretty gross.’ She tickles his tummy, making him giggle, drawing his knees up, and slips the fresh Pampers under his bottom. He doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t mind. ‘But you really are the cutest nineteen-year-old I’ve ever met, and I’d like us to see more of each other.’
‘Well, you’ve already seen everything of me,’ Philip replies, trying to sound seductive, but even he knows he just sounds like a cheeky little boy. He yelps when Laura pulls the fresh Pampers up between his legs and quickly fastens the tapes. ‘Hey! What are you doing?
‘Putting your clean diaper on,’ says Laura, pushing him back down onto his back.
‘But you said if I didn’t get cranky…’
‘That I would get you of the baby girl clothes and take your mittens off,’ says Laura. ‘And I’ll take your mittens off as soon as you’re dressed.’ She looks down at him sternly. ‘Unless you’re going to start getting cranky now.’
‘No,’ Philip promises, shaking his head. She can dress him however she likes. As soon as the mittens are off, and Laura leaves, he can undress himself and ditch the diaper.
He lays back, uncomplaining as Laura applies a pair of towelling lined, plastic training pants, over top of the diaper, and then slips some other baby garment over his feet. She slides it up his legs, before standing him up to pull it right up and feed his hands through short, puff sleeves like the dress had. The next thing he knows, Laura has laid him on his front and is fastening buttons all the way up his back.
‘Now we can take your mittens off,’ she says, lifting him and then sitting him down on his diapered bottom. She unfastens the snaps with ease and at last Philip’s hands are free. He wants to reach round and unbutton the baby-blue bubble romper straight away, but he decides it will be wiser to wait until Laura has gone. ‘Just one more thing to put on,’ says Laura, producing a white baby’s cardigan, which she proceeds to dress him in, buttoning the front. ‘There,’ she coos. ‘One little baby boy all dressed.’ She lifts him from the changing unit that had not been used for years and carries him into the hall, where she stands him in front of the mirror.
Philip gapes at the baby boy who stares back at him from the mirror.
‘Don’t you look cute, Pip?’ coos Laura.
Philip nods, unable to speak. He does look cute. Oh heck, he feels cute. This is awful and at the same time it’s sort of nice. He wishes…
Laura lifts him into her arms, kisses his cheek and starts patting his bottom.
‘Who’s my cute baby boy?’
Philip hears a tiny little voice drawl, ‘Pip?’
‘Does Pip like being Laura’s baby boy?’
No! No, he doesn’t! But then again, he does. Laura rubs his bottom.
‘What shall we do together today, baby? I don’t have to go to college this morning; it’s Saturday.’
‘Gether? Day?’ Why can’t he get his words out like an adult?
‘We can go to the park,’ suggests Laura. ‘Would you like that?’
The park? Dressed like this? Is she mad?
‘No!’
‘Ok,’ says Laura. ‘Let’s do something nice here then.’
‘You’re staying?’
‘Unless you don’t want me to stay, Pip.’ Laura cuddles him, rubbing his bottom, making his trainer pants rustle and sending little tingles of pleasure through him. ‘Do you want me to go, so you can be on your own for a while.’
‘Will you come back?’ Philip drawls.
‘Do you want me to, baby?’ asks Laura, still rubbing his bottom.
‘Yeah.’ He snuggles against her, feeling as if he could stay like this for ever. No! He’s got to get her out of the house and get out of these clothes that make him feel so babyish - and ditch the diaper!
‘Ok,’ says Laura. ‘How about I come back this evening and we’ll have dinner together?’
‘Ok.’
‘Good.’ Laura pats his bottom and then stands him down on the hall floor. ‘I’ll see you later, Pip.’ Just before she closes the door after her, she says, ‘I left a few things that might keep you entertained in the lounge. Bye, Pip.’
‘Bye, Laura,’ Philip calls after her, embarrassed to find that he is waving like a little kid and let the “r” in Laura come out ads a “w”.
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 19, 2025 at 3:55 PM
Content: Chapter 5
What did she mean about leaving a few things to keep him entertained? Philip toddles into the living room and sees a padded playmat laid out on the floor, with a selection of toddler toys arranged around it. Squeaky toys, a shape sorter, letter blocks, a wooden train, a humming top, plush toys, stacking cups and a ride-on toy tractor. Really? She thinks these will keep him amused? He climbs onto the sofa and reaches for the TV remote, remembering, as his trainer pants rustle, that he is still wearing the baby-blue bubble romper and cardigan, and he is still diapered. Oh well, the stupid baby clothes are pretty comfortable, he guesses, and there’s no big hurry. He switches on the TV to find that most of the channels are blocked; the only ones he can select are the kids’ channels. He scrolls further through the program guide and discovers that even the older kids’ channels are blocked. All he has left to watch are the pre-schooler’s channels. He groans.
‘Gee, thanks Laura!’
Somehow, Philip finds himself watching the Teletubbies, and even laughing at their antics, and then Sesame Street comes on and he remembers watching this episode with Mommy, when he was… But he still is little - little enough to fit in an old-fashioned bubble romper and size 4 Pampers. He sees the packet in his mind’s eye: Pampers Baby Dry. Baby Dry! He really ought to get out of the infantile outfit and ditch the diaper, but Dora the Explorer has just started...
And then he needs to pee. Urgently.
That’s the problem, having a toddler’s body: when he needs to pee, he needs to pee right now. That’s why he still uses a potty, in the bathroom, because he never has time to climb onto the toilet. And that’s why, even when he was sixteen, he had to wear pull-ups when he went out with Mommy and Daddy - why does he keep calling them that? - and why there was always a potty in the car. And that’s why he’s wetting his diaper - before he can even climb down from the sofa. The warmth that bathes his bottom and crotch, as his bladder empties itself uncontrollably, feels sort of nice. He sighs. He might as well watch the rest of Dora before he changes into some adult clothes.
Except he doesn’t have any adult clothes, either. All his clothes are off-the-peg toddler clothes. It’s just that Mommy bought the closest to grown up styles that she could find: plain coloured shirts and sweaters, white undies, black or denim pants. The pants are cut to accommodate a diaper, of course, and have elasticated waistbands, but he can live with that - and the elasticated waist does make them easy to pull down when he needs the potty. The toilet, he corrects himself, even if he does actually use a potty.
Philip is about to climb back onto the sofa, when it occurs to him that he’ll only have to climb down again to get changed, and the playmat looks comfortable to lounge on. He walks over to it, waddling because his wet diaper has swollen to twice its original bulk between his legs. He lays on his tummy but gets a sore neck trying to watch the TV, so he turns onto his side and shuffles round. That’s better. And then he spots a pacifier, within arm’s reach. Why did Laura leave that there? Did she really think he would want to use it? But now the idea has planted itself in his head, he does have an overwhelming urge to suck on it. Well, why not; nobody will know, except maybe Laura.
By the time the double episode of Dora finishes, Philip is sucking contentedly on the pacifier and - he’s not quite sure how it happened - he is cuddling Hugs, the Care Bear Baby plushie. An advert for Huggies comes on the TV, toddlers in just diapers and firemen’s helmets playing around a big toy fire engine. And then there’s one for Gerber baby foods, including the baby muesli Laura fed him this morning. And now it’s diaper rash cream and he remembers Mommy smoothing it over his bottom before she diapered him.
I’d better get out this diaper before I need to poop, he tells himself, but now the next program is starting. Oh, heck! It’s Care Bear Babies. Of course it is! Time to get out of the baby clothes!
He is halfway to the door when he realises that he is crawling and he’s still sucking the pacifier. He crawls back to the playmat, takes the pacifier out of his mouth and carefully lays it down beside Hugs. Halfway back to the door again, he realises that he is still crawling, but it just feels like too much bother to get up and walk, and he’s only going across the hall to his bedroom, isn’t he? Funny, he thinks, as he reaches his bedroom door, how much bigger everything looks from down here. That’s when he glances back and sees the cute little baby boy in the mirror. He flops onto his behind, noticing that his diaper feels thicker and softer under his bottom now that it is wet. He’s not sure how long he has been sitting there, staring at himself when he gets the first warning rumble in his belly.
Now I really need to get out of this diaper, he thinks, crawling into his bedroom as fast as his hands and knees will carry him, and then flopping onto his diapered rear.
Getting the cardigan off is easy, but when he tries to unbutton the romper, he finds he can hardly reach, and the buttons are difficult for his stubby little fingers to handle. Now what is he going to do? If he can’t get the diaper off, he is going to poop his pants. Except he isn’t wearing pants, he’s wearing a romper and if he can’t get the romper off, he’s going to poop his diaper. His diaper? What is he thinking? It’s not his diaper, it’s just a diaper. But he is wearing it, and he has wet it, which sort of does make it his diaper, he guesses. His belly grumbles again. Why is he arguing with himself about his diaper? It’s going to be a dirty diaper if he doesn’t get out of it soon. There is only one thing he can do. He waddles back to the lounge, grabs the phone and calls the number Laura left last night.
‘Hello?’ says Laura, when she answers.
‘I need to poop!’ Philip blurts, dancing from foot to foot. ‘And I can’t get out of my romper.’
‘Alright, Pip,’ says Laura, soothingly. ‘I’m on my way. Don’t worry if you can’t hold it in, baby, I can always change you when I get there.’
‘Why did she have to say that?’ Philip whines, putting down the phone. ‘Now I need to poop even worse!’
*
Somehow, Philip manages not to poop in his diaper before Laura arrives, but it is close.
Laura scoops him up as the door swings closed behind her and rushes to lay him on the changing unit, where it only takes her a few seconds to get the romper and trainer pants off him, but it is too late; his bowels let go as she carries him to the bathroom.
‘Uh-oh,’ says Laura, sympathetically, as Philip lets out a cry of anguish. ‘Never mind, baby, let’s get you changed.’ A moment later, Philip finds himself back on the changing unit, still helplessly filling his diaper. ‘Never mind, Pip,’ says Laura. ‘It doesn’t matter. Have you finished?’
Philip nods, sheepishly, feeling his cheeks burning with embarrassment. As for the other pair of cheeks, inside his diaper… He’s trying not to think about the hot, clammy sensation down there.
‘Let’s get you changed then,’ Laura says cheerfully.
‘I - I couldn’t help it,’ Philip whimpers.
‘Of course you couldn’t,’ says Laura. ‘It was my fault for not making sure you could get out of your romper before I left you on your own. I’m sorry, baby.’
‘S’ok,’ Philip drawls, feeling the hot, squishy mess in his diaper creeping up between his legs. It makes him feel infantile and dirty and helpless. Laura smiles down at him maternally.
‘Let’s change that messy diaper,’ she says, reaching for the tapes.
‘I - I can do it,’ Philip protests, panicking. He can’t let Laura see his shameful, dirty bottom. It would be mortifying! But Laura is already tearing the tapes open.
Philip whimpers, lying passive, as Laura opens up his diaper and uses a clean part of it to wipe the worst of the mess from his bottom and crotch, before getting to work with a pack of baby wipes. He stares at the ceiling, through his tears, overcome with shame and humiliation at the state of his bottom and the dirty-diaper smell that fills the room.
‘Nearly done,’ Laura coos, finishing off with a final wipe, and then Philip feels her smoothing a diaper rash cream on him. It’s no surprise when he feels a clean diaper being brought up between his legs and taped around his waist. ‘Are you going be a good boy and lay there while I throw out your dirty diaper and wash my hands, Pip?’
Philip nods, absently, feeling… He’s not sure how he feels, apart from small and helpless and strangely, emotionally dependent upon Laura. He listens to the water running, as she washes her hands, and feels childishly excited when he hears her coming back to him. Why is he like this? Why isn’t he yelling and cursing and ordering her out of the house, instead of letting her diaper him and treat him like an infant? The truth is, that a part of him craves the care and attention she lavishes on him, and enjoys being babied, but if he gives into it then what will become of him?
‘Here I am, Pip,’ coos Laura, smiling down at him. ‘Let’s get you dressed and have some lunch.’
She walks over to the wardrobe and reaches a stack of Philip’s old baby clothes from a high shelf. He recognises the rompers and shortalls and cute t-shirts that Mommy couldn’t bring herself to part with - and sometimes persuaded him to try on, even after he hit his teens. He remembers feeling embarrassed about wearing them - especially as she insisted on diapering him too - but he also sort of enjoyed feeling little again, a bit like he’s been feeling today. Laura selects a pastel yellow bubble romper and produces a fresh pair of towelling-lined plastic trainer pants from her bag.
‘I’m not a baby,’ Philip protests, half-heartedly, as Laura bunches up the trainer pants and slips them over his feet. ‘I don’t need diapers.’
‘Then I guess you don’t need a babysitter either,’ Laura replies, slipping the pants off and putting them back in her bag. She lifts him into her arms, kisses his cheek, and then stands him down on the carpet. ‘I’d better go. Bye, Pip.’
‘No-o-o!’ Philip wails, as she heads for the door. ‘I don’t want you to go!’
‘But you don’t need me here,’ says Laura, reaching for the latch. ‘not if you don’t need a babysitter.’
‘But I do need you,’ cries Philip, toddling after her.
‘So, you do need a babysitter?’ asks Laura.
Philip sighs. He knows he can’t win. He either lets her go, which makes him feel like crying, or he lets her baby him. There’s only one choice that won’t make him miserable.
‘I - I guess so,’ he drawls.
*
Philip sits in his highchair, opening his mouth obediently each time Laura fills the spoon with Gerber spaghetti rings in meat sauce. Laura is eating a sub roll she brought with her. She smiles at him.
‘Isn’t this nice, Pip?’
Philip giggles, too embarrassed to reply. It is nice though, playing this game of baby and babysitter.
Laura had scooped him up, and carried him back to the changing unit, as soon as he admitted that he “needed” a babysitter. He hadn’t objected to the towelling-lined trainer pants that now covered his diaper, or the pastel yellow bubble romper and white cardigan. He hadn’t objected to being strapped into the highchair, and having a bib tied under his chin. And he is cheerfully submitting to being spoon-fed. And all because he couldn’t bear to watch Laura walk out of his life.
‘All gone,’ says Laura, showing him the empty bowl. ‘Let’s give your mouth a wipe and get you something to drink.’
“Something to drink” turns out to be the second big bottle of formula from the fridge, and Philip drinks it cradled in Laura’s arms on the sofa. Halfway through, he suddenly needs to pee. He tries to sit up, and grabs at his crotch, but it is too late; he wets himself, his diaper swelling to absorb the hot flood. Laura pats his bottom.
‘It’s alright, baby,’ she coos. ‘I’m here to take care of you.’
By the time he has finished his bottle, Philip is feeling drowsy, so he’s not surprised when Laura carries him back to his bedroom and lays him in his cot. He is surprised though, when she pops a pacifier in his mouth and tucks Hugs, the Care Bear Baby teddy, into his arms. She chuckles.
‘I guessed you were cuddling her while you watched TV this morning,’ she says. ‘You left her on the playmat, looking after your pacifier.’
Chapter 6 to follow
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 19, 2025 at 11:16 PM
Content:
nappybaby said:
I don´t get the first chapter at all. how is he in a cot but then waddles into the living room or onto the couch?
[End of quote]
Maybe you didn't start at the beginning, or accidentally skipped a bit, unless it's not displaying properly on your device. He's not in a cot until Laura turns the tables on him, gets him tipsy and puts him there.
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 20, 2025 at 12:11 PM
Content: Chapter 6
It takes a few moments for things to fall into place when Philip wakes up again. The pacifier teat in his mouth, the warm bulk of the diaper wrapping his bottom, the air against his bare legs, the cuddly toy clutched in his arms, the cot bars surrounding him on all four sides. And then it all comes back to him: last night, when Laura outwitted his idiotic plan to seduce her - What was he even thinking he could do if he’d got her drunk? - when she had spiked his drink, as he planned to spike hers, and diapered him and dressed him as a baby girl when he fell into a drunken stupor. How she had diapered and dressed him in a romper and cardigan this morning, and then left him, when he told her he didn’t need a babysitter. How, instead of getting himself out of the romper and diaper, he had climbed onto the sofa and watched the Teletubbies and Sesame Street. How he hadn’t even tried to undress himself after he wet his diaper. How Lauraa had rushed to his aid, when he desperately needed to poop and found he couldn’t manage the buttons of his romper with his stubby little fingers. How Laura had calmly and gently cleaned his dirty bottom after he filled his diaper. The choice she had given him when he protested that he wasn’t a baby. The choice he had made - the only choice he could make. And that’s why he’s in his cot, with the side back in place, wearing a pastel-yellow romper, sucking on a pacifier, cuddling a Care Bear… Oh, yes, and he’s wetting his diaper again. Philip rolls onto his back and sees a Disney mobile hanging above his cot. He chuckles, although he’s not sure why. The sound brings Laura to his side.
‘Hello, sleepy head,’ she says. ‘Did you have a nice nap? Shall we get you up?’
Without thinking, Philip holds his arms out towards her.
‘Up you come then.’
And then he is in her arms, feeling her hand patting his diapered bottom, and she is carrying him through to the lounge. She stops in the hall and turns him towards the mirror.
‘Who’s that?’ she coos. ‘Is it Pip?’
Philip nods, seeing the baby looking coyly back at him. Why does it send this little shudder of delight through him? Yesterday, he would have been embarrassed to look at the baby photographs his mommy loved to show to people. He sucks on his pacifier.
‘Wave bye-bye to baby, Pip,’ says Laura, taking his arm and making him wave, and then she carries him into the lounge, where the playmat is still in the centre of the floor, the baby toys arranged around it. No prizes for guessing where I’m going to be sitting, thinks Philip. But he is wrong. Laura goes to the fridge and brings out a small baby bottle of orange juice, and soon Philip finds himself cradled in her arms, sucking at the teat, as Laura sits on the sofa.
The TV is on and showing one of the normal channels. It doesn’t take Philip long to realise that it is showing a program about infant development, from new-born to three years old. Mommy always used to say that Philip hasn’t grown an inch since he was 20 months old. He hasn’t developed since then either, although his brain is fine. He learned all the things other kids learned, except he was schooled at home after kindergarten, but being the size he is, he’s never going to go out to work. Which is why he works from home, for what was daddy’s - his father’s, Philip corrects himself - software company. Even if he wasn’t doing that, his future would be secure, thanks to the trust fund his parents set up.
As the bottle empties, Philip’s bladder fills, and he feels the urge to pee. He doesn’t even try to hold it in, and he feels Laura’s hand pat his bottom as the warmth spreads inside his diaper. The teat begins to squeak and squelch as the bottle empties. Laura sits him up on her lap and cuddles him and then kisses the top of his head.
‘Do we need to change your diaper, baby?’ Philip doesn’t feel wet or uncomfortable, but he nods. He has wet himself three times since Laura changed him. She carries him back to the nursery - Nursery? Now he’s thinking of his bedroom as the nursery? - and lays him on the changing unit. ‘Do you want to try to unbutton the crotch of your romper yourself, Pip?’ she asks.
‘Ok.’ Philip feels between his legs for the three buttons, and finds he has to draws his knees up so he can reach. After a lot of fumbling, he gives up. ‘Can’t do it,’ he whines.
‘Never mind,’ says Laura. ‘I can do it for you, that’s what babysitters are for.’ It doesn’t take her long to unbutton the romper, bunch it up around Philip’s chest, pull off the trainer pants and unfasten his wet diaper. ‘Let’s freshen you up, baby,’ she says, getting to work with the wipes. After smoothing diaper cream onto his clean bottom, Laura brings the fresh Pampers Baby Dry up between his legs and tapes it closed.
‘There we are, baby,’ Laura says gently. ‘That’s better, isn’t it?’
Philip simply sighs.
As Laura carries him back to the lounge, pausing at the mirror to “wave to baby”, it strikes Philip that he made no objection to being diapered again, with the training pants as extra protection, and being buttoned back into a romper he knows he can’t get himself out of if he needs to poop. Why isn’t he more worried about it?
The answer is that Laura makes him feel safe and happy. Although Pip didn’t know it when he called the babysitting service, she really is the female company he needed: not someone to attempt to fondle, but someone to make him feel loved. She sits him on the playmat and kneels beside him.
‘Let’s play, Pip.’
*
They have been playing for most of the afternoon and now Philip is laying on the playmat, cuddling Hugs and watching Bubble Guppies TV, while Laura is in the kitchen. She promised they would have dinner together tonight, but Philip is pretty sure that he will be sitting in the highchair, with a bib tied under his chin, when they eat.
He enjoyed playing with Laura this afternoon. Baby toys were involved, but the games weren’t completely babyish. Laura started by giving him the shape sorter, a big plastic ball with different shaped holes in it, and then she scattered the shaped pieces all over the lounge and challenged him to slot them all into the ball in under four minutes, crawling on his hands and knees to retrieve them. It took him eleven tries to do it, going as fast as his hands and knees would carry him. It was exhausting but hilarious, with Laura cheering him on. And then she said, ‘Do you think you could do it in three minutes?’ Philip ran out of energy before he succeeded, and they stopped for a drink - Laura had coffee and Philip had another baby bottle of juice - before the next game.
‘Okay,’ said Laura, heaping up the letter blocks in the middle of the playmat and sitting Philip on the opposite side to her. ‘I’ll say a word, and you have to spell it with the blocks, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Philip drawled, grinning at her.
‘But you’ve got to spell it by stacking the blocks on top of each other, so the word reads from top to bottom.’
‘Okay,’ chuckled Philip.
‘And you have two minutes to make each word. Ready?’
Philip nodded.
‘Diaper.’
The biggest challenge was building a tower without the blocks falling, because the padded playmat wasn’t a solid surface. But first he had to find the right blocks, and the right letters, and work out the spellings backwards and vertically. Each time he built the word tower in less than two minutes, Laura swept him into her arms and cuddled him and patted his bottom. He wet himself twice while they were playing, but hardly cared; he was diapered, so it didn’t really matter. Laura walks into the lounge, bringing a waft of delicious cooking smells with her.
‘Time to get ready for dinner,’ she announces, lifting him into her arms. She pats his bottom. ‘Let’s get you changed.’
She carries him through to his bedroom - he has to keep telling himself it’s not a nursery - and lays him on the changing unit. Philip doesn’t feel any embarrassment as she unbuttons the crotch of his romper and removes his training pants and wet diaper, although he blushes when Laura gets to work with the wipes around his sensitive private areas. In her eyes, he’s probably no different any other… To a real baby, he corrects himself. Laura holds up a fresh Pampers Baby Dry and a pair of Philips white cotton toddler underwear.
‘Diaper or undies?’ she asks him. Yesterday evening, or even this morning, there would have been no contest, undies every time. But now he is afraid he might forget he’s not diapered and wet the furniture, and he’s got accustomed to the reassuring warm bulk of a diaper. He sighs and points at the Pampers. It would be too mortifying to actually say out loud that he wants to be diapered.
‘Okay, Pip,’ says Laura. ‘I’ll put some Aquaphor on you first.’ She opens the tub and gently smooths the cream over his bottom and crotch, before slipping the Pampers under his bottom, bringing it up between his legs and fastening the tapes. ‘Now,’ she says, smiling down at him. ‘Do you want to change back into your regular clothes, or are you okay in with what you’ve been wearing?’
‘I - I don’t mind,’ drawls Philip, feeling himself blush again.
‘Well,’ says Laura. ‘If you don’t mind, shall we just put your trainer pants back on and button up your romper?’
‘Okay,’ Philip simpers, wondering whether Laura would still be smiling maternally at him if he had chosen his regular clothes and undies.
On the way back to the lounge, Laura stops at the mirror.
‘You really do look cute, Pip,’ she says. ‘Do you like how you look?’
‘Yeah, I guess,’ says Philip, his voice small. Laura starts rubbing his bottom, making his trainer pants rustle.
‘Have you had a nice time this afternoon, Pip?’
‘Yeah.’ He gives an embarrassed giggle. Laura pats his bottom firmly.
‘Let’s go and eat.’
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 20, 2025 at 12:12 PM
Content:
Nordicbabyboy said:
I do really love this story and would love a little backstory of wy he is so small
[End of quote]
His size is sort of explained in Chapter 6, just posted
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 20, 2025 at 12:21 PM
Content: Chapter 7
It’s almost like a date, except for Philip being very conscious that he’s diapered and wearing a baby’s romper and cardigan, with a bib tied under his chin to protect them. Laura tells him all about herself, and Philip tells her all about him.
‘You’re a software developer?’ says Laura. ‘That’s impressive. You’ve certainly got a grown-up brain, even if you’re little in other departments. What sort of software do you write?’
‘Video game graphics,’ says Philip. ‘I sort of live my grown-up fantasies that way: driving fast cars, flying fighter jets, shooting zombies…’
‘And seducing women?’ Laura teases.
‘I’m really sorry about that,’ Philip sighs. ‘I never did anything like that before. I just wanted…’
‘Company? A girl to be nice to you and maybe,’ she chuckles, ‘give you a little comfort?’
‘I guess,’ Philip drawls.
The food is really good, but Philip doesn’t eat much; he’s only got a toddler size stomach. When dessert is finished, Laura asks him, ‘Coffee, or juice?’ Philip doesn’t drink coffee in the evening; it stops him sleeping and he has to keep getting up to pee.
‘Juice, please,’ he says.
‘Bottle or glass?’ He wishes she wouldn’t keep giving him these choices.
‘Don’t mind.’
‘Well, a glass will make you feel more grown-up,’ says Laura. She just gives him enough time to open his mouth, ready to say “Glass”, and then adds, ‘but a bottle won’t spill.’
‘I don’t know,’ Philip whines, wishing she would just give him one or the other.
‘Let’s get you a bottle then, shall we?’
‘I guess so,’ drawls Philip.
A little while later, they are on the sofa, watching re-runs of Friends, Laura with a cup of coffee, Philip lounging against a cushion, sucking at the bottle. As the teat starts to squelch and squeak, Laura turns to him and takes the bottle away.
‘We need to talk, Pip.’
*
They are back at the table, Philip in his specially adapted dining chair, where he sat to eat earlier.
‘We need to work out what sort of relationship we have,’ says Laura. ‘I’m okay with you hiring me as a babysitter, and I’ll come round and keep you company, like I would with any toddler.’
‘Do I have to be diapered and wear baby clothes?’ Philip asks.
‘It’s not compulsory,’ says Laura, ‘but any sort of “adult” stuff is out of bounds.’
‘Okay.’
‘Or we can be friends, and I’ll come round whenever I’m free, and we’ll eat together, and watch TV and play games. But friends means friends, not anything … intimate, okay?’
‘Okay...’
‘Or I can look after you full-time, like a live-in nanny.’ She stops him before he can speak. ‘But diapers and baby clothes are compulsory, and you’ll drink from bottles and be spoon-fed, and you will only watch what I think is suitable for you on TV.’
‘What about my work?’
‘You can carry on with that, and anything business stuff you do now,’ Laura assures him. ‘But I’ll take care of everything else: feeding, changing, dressing, washing, all your bodily needs.’
‘And you’ll be here all the time?’
‘All day and all night.’
‘Starting tonight?’
‘I have to get things sorted out with my parents first. So, let’s say not tomorrow morning, but the next.’ She smiles. ‘And that will give you time to change your mind if you want to.’
‘Okay.’ Philip can feel himself smiling broadly. And then his tummy grumbles and gripes. ‘I need to poop!’ he gasps.
Fifteen minutes later, Philip is in a fresh Pampers Baby Dry, with his trainer pants over the top and a Babygro sleepsuit over top of both.
He had been afraid that Laura might tell him to use his diaper, when he said he needed to poop, but she had undressed him, sat him on his potty and left him in private to do what he needed. She hadn’t let him wipe himself though; she had put the toilet tissue way out of his reach. Instead, she carried him into his nursery - he supposes it is going to be a nursery now - and used baby wipes to clean his bottom, before applying a layer of cream and diapering him. Now they are watching Friends again, Philip snuggled in Laura’s arms, until bedtime.
*
Laura puts a two-way, web-connected baby monitor in his cot before she goes, and she leaves the side down, so Philip can climb out in an emergency.
‘It worries me to think of you being so tiny, and living here all on your own,’ she says. ‘Anything could happen to you.’
Ever since she’s mentioned it, Philip is even more aware of how vulnerable he really is if anything bad happens, especially in the night. But tonight, Laura will only be a call away, if he needs her, and soon she will be here to look after him all the time.
Later that night, tucked into his cot, sucking his pacifier, Hugs snuggled in his arms, Philip listens to Laura’s car driving away, and feels the spreading warmth in his crotch as he wets his diaper. He glances at the diaper pack across the room - “Pampers Baby Dry. Up to 12 hours of dryness” - and then cuddles his Care Bear Baby. Laura’s voice comes through the baby monitor.
‘Nighty-night, Pip. See you in the morning.’
Six Months Later
Phillip's life has changed beyond recognition.
He still works every day, coding at his computer, but otherwise his life is the life of a toddler.
He has been in diapers so long now that he hardly notices when he wets himself, and he doesn’t always ask for the potty in time when he needs to poop. Sometimes he thinks Laura wouldn’t care if he pooped in his diaper all the time. She certainly doesn’t mind changing his dirty diapers, and she seems to coddle him even more after he’s had a “messy accident”, as she calls it. The last time he ate a grown-up meal was on the night they agreed on their arrangement. Since then, he has been spoon-fed jarred baby foods, and bottle-fed infant formula. He doesn’t even use a sippy cup.
Phillips clothing has changed too. No pants or T-shirts anymore. Now he wears cute bubble rompers and baby cardigans, and wears only socks and soft baby shoes when they go out. Sometimes, Laura will dress him as a baby girl, in a short dress, and frilly baby panties, and show him how cute he looks in the mirror.
‘After all,’ she tells him, ‘it doesn’t really matter if a baby is a boy or a girl; they’re far too young to understand.’ She chuckles. ‘And who’s going to know whether you’re a little boy or a little girl, under your diaper?’
As he lays cradled in her arms tonight, suckling steadily at his bedtime bottle, Phillip has no regrets. He feels loved and cute and sleepily content, as Laura's hand gently pats his bottom.
The End
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 20, 2025 at 12:22 PM
Content: Ok, that was it, the whole story. Hope you all enjoyed it and I would love to read your feedback. I caught a few typos when I posted the chapters, but I'm sure there are more.
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 20, 2025 at 10:50 PM
Content:
sofiahammerstein said:
I enjoyed reading it. I really wish you could take the 6 months later part, and cut that, while continuing at least the first week of her moving in. Definitely not the most realistic tale ever, but I can get past that if I'm enjoying the characters. I think up until that 6 months later part you have a really good start! Regardless, I'll keep an eye out for more from you in the future.
One other minor comment, ' is not a standard quotation mark for dialogue. It should be the double " for dialogue generally. (There are exceptions, but most of the time the ' is used to represent internal dialogue)
[End of quote]
Thank you
I take your point about the six months later. Trouble is I'm not a good enough writer to sustain the story without it getting repetitive. I get bored with my own writing
Sorry about the single quotes. I'm a Brit, so they're the norm over here. I'll try to remember double quotes next time
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 21, 2025 at 9:27 AM
Content:
sofiahammerstein said:
I should have picked up on that from the content. I didn't realize that was more normal over across the pond there!
Also, just realized we have two opposite systems that have developed... English is a mess!
[End of quote]
Two nations divided by a common language .
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Author: Zorbit
Timestamp: Jun 22, 2025 at 10:34 AM
Content:
Growler0128 said:
I REALLY enjoyed the story. Its was kind of funny when i saw HOMY. that was my nickname at a job i worked at.
I encourage you to maybe do another story.
VERY ENJOYABLE STORY
Homy
[End of quote]
Thank you
I couldn't remember where Homy appeared, so I did a search and it's in bedw3ttingpants's Timmy's Trials , so it's probably them that deserves the praise for that .
Thanks for the for all the chapters. I have another story or two I'm working on