Mumble, "I'll be a good boi, Ma'am."

Wanda seems almost disappointed, clearly preferring to party with you or punish you than to babysit you. Still, she responds to your phony politeness with a professional pat on your head followed by ruffling your hair and saying with exaggerated, almost condescending cuteness, "That's my little pog champ. Now go wait in the living room while Ms. Wanda makes you tendies."

You should resent the infantilizing treatment and the saccharine sweet phoniness it's wrapped up in, and maybe you would if it didn't simultaneously touch a soft spot you have deep inside that you don't dare share for fear of being ridiculed...a neediness to be nurtured. That, and the feverish flush you get being coddled by such a cute caregiver, one that even with the timeless perfection of her bimboi body you would peg as at least in her early to mid twenties. The humiliation only adds to the horny heat of being coddled by a naughty nanny.

You meekly make your way to the couch, carefully hiding your hard on but painfully aware of how obvious Becca's babying is affecting you. You tell yourself to get a grip and remember that you are an 18 year old man, not some little boi that gets excited over baby names and 'tendies'. Still, you can't exactly push back with the alternative being the paddle. After some deep breaths and a few minutes of repeating manly mantras, you finally get ahold of yourself and prepare to accept her patronizing patter without indulging it. That is, until she walks into the room wearing a tiny pink apron with skulls all over it over her punk rock outfit. Something about the domesticity of the simple accessory and the contrast of her blood red hair, pretty pierced face, and slutty outfit make her all the more irresistible.

"You're waiting like such a good lil' trooper! I made you some fancy sauce to go with your tendies, and if you promise to eat up every bite, I'll even let you lay your head on my chest while I feed them to you." Wanda coos almost cruelly, clearly daring you to turn her down and prove you aren't the pathetic pissant she's treating you like. Maybe if you did, she'd even tone it down a bit and you could spend the rest of the night with a little more dignity albeit a lot duller. All you have to do is turn down an offer to lay your head across those perfect pillows...

"Yes, Ms. Wanda! I promise I'll be a good boi!" A childish lilt creeps into your voice as you devoutly debase yourself for her crumbs of affection. It is excruciating to hear yourself cave so cravenly, but watching Becca's beestung lips spread from a smarmy smirk to a genuine, almost giddy grin is reward enough. Well, almost reward enough. The real prize comes when she slides on the couch next to you and pulls you back so your head is nestled against her creamy cushions, looking up into her beautiful face. True to her word, she feeds you frozen fried chicken strips bite by bite, and despite finding them bland and basic, you savor every scrap hoping she never runs out.

"See how nice, good lil' bois get treated? Isn't this better than trying to be tough? Isn't it nicer than ever trying to be a man?" Wanda drones on dreamily, with a musical, almost hypnotic hum to her voice as she feeds you the last of your tendies and wipes your lips. You know it only proves her right, but you can't help but nuzzle against her bountiful breasts, practically babbling like a baby as you bury your face in her supple skin and muffle your moans with her massive mommy milkers. You expect her to push you away or admonish you, but instead she strokes your hair and rocks you back and forth until you feel like you are floating between half conciousness and dreamy darkness. This carefree calm only makes it harder to resist when she asks alluringly, "Would my good lil' baby boi like to sit on my lap while we watch some cartoons?"

Again, if you could just muster the will to resist, maybe she would stop treating you like a little kid, but this is the best you've ever been treated by someone as sexy as her, and the sad truth is the embarrassment is actually making it more erotic for you. Maybe it's because you miss a strong maternal presence, maybe it's because every developing sexual experience you had was rife with shame and secrecy, maybe it's because she is a stacked scary siren suddenly acting sweet, but you can't resist responding, "Thank you Miss Wanda I would wike that a wot."

You would worry about the sudden return of your childhood speech impediment, but then she pulls you on her lap and you can feel her hot breath on your neck, her breasts crushed against your back, and her bulge slide between your chubby cheeks, and you have more pressing things on your mind. "You're being such a good kid, champ. You might just be my favorite kid to sit for. Tell you what, we can even watch some of my favorite cartoons." You melt against her, so elated by her praise that you don't mind how insulting it 'should' sound. Wanda fiddles with her phone before casting one of her private collections onto the big screen.

The title screen makes it immediately clear that this isn't going to be a G rated show. '**** of the Uberfiend: Futa Tears Fall From Their Cocks (Super Turbo Edition)' certainly isn't Disney Afternoon programming. You squirm, sublimely uncomfortably on her lap with only the thin, taut fabric of your sweats between her pantied prick and your virgin hole. The movie is even more perverted than the title would suggest, and you can't help but notice that first guy to get possessed by the futagami turns into a pretty pierced punk with a red pompadour mohawk just like Wanda.

You wonder whether she got the idea for her look from this cartoon or if somehow she is inspiring pent up perverts overseas into immortalizing her in dickgurl demon hentai. You don't dare ask for fear of getting in trouble for talking during the movie. It's oddly relieving to stop worrying about everything and just do what you're told. Your only concern is what you will happen if you don't cum soon. You have had the most painfully erect hard on of your life since she started babying you, and with her body so close to yours and the images on the screen filling your head with such filthy fantasies, it's all you can do to keep from cumming in your sweats without ever touching your cock.

You watch helplessly horny and hopelessly humiliated as a boi no bigger than you is filled with the demoness' dick until his own baby boner explodes in a creamy fountain. You drool dumbly and moan mindlessly as he shift and swells into a dickgurl demon too, only the punk rawk **** keeps railing his ass as his ever swelling shaft paints them both in sweet, sticky spurts. Wanda wraps hers soft, full lips around your earlobes and whispers, "Can Ms. Wanda help you make cummies?"

Before you can say 'Yes, pwease', your cock erupts in your sweats and your entire body is rocked by the most powerful orgasm of your life. You grind against her groin, writhe against her heavy milkbags, and throw your head back to bury your blushing face in the soft crevice of her collar bone. Your body is wracked by torrid, throbbing tingles as your shaft shoots out every last drippy drop of cum percolating in your balls leaving your groin sticky and sloppy.

The shame comes rushing in almost immediately as you realize how utterly you have failed in front of your beautiful babysitter. She will never see you as a man now. You wait, whimpering and on the verge of tears for the inevitable anger and terrible taunting, but instead she pulls your head down into the nurturing nest of her heaving, heavenly chest and strokes your hair. "Don't worry, baby. Lots of lil' bois lose control like that. Why don't you let Ms. Wanda carry you to the tub and get you nice and clean before she tucks you into bed?"

You might as well let her keep babying you. It's not like she's going to be impressed if you try to act cool after creaming yourself. Then again, if you keep going down this path, will you get another chance to say no? Or will you be too lost in brainless bliss and sizzling shame to speak up ever again?