AB Sitter (Chapters)

Monserrat took a moment to take in the view from her latest client’s corner office. The top floor of Ardenthill’s second tallest building commanded a gorgeous view of the trees rising from the river confluence that had long been known simply as “The Branch”. As one of the only two buildings in town that could remotely be considered as skyscrapers – the Keene building and the slightly taller Erasmus Tower were synonymous with money in the minds of the townsfolk. Anyone with a corner office in Keene was likely to be used to getting her way. That was too bad for Dominika Galvez, because though Monserrat wasn’t used to disappointing people – she’d resolved to set some very firm boundaries in her business.

“Dominika, I won’t do what you’re asking.” Monserrat focused on keeping her voice polite but firm. “My session can’t be a surprise to Keeley. I did that once for another client and decided I wouldn’t do it again. It creates too much ambiguity.”

“Oh come on.” Dominika sighed and stared Monserrat down. She was dressed in a black women’s power suit, with her highlighted brown hair brushed back into what Monserrat thought of as a “business mane”. If there were any hints of the Hispanic heritage that Dominika’s surname implied in her face, her careful makeup job had hidden them. Everything about the woman exuded precision, from her personal presentation, to the neatness of her desk. On Dominika’s desk there was a single laptop, two neat stacks of paper, and one pen.

In contrast, Monserrat was making more of a point of leaning into her ethnicity as she gained confidence in her business. Her mass of natural black curls had recently been dreaded and decorated with rainbow beads. The only concessions the babysitter was making to the heavy business aspect of her client meeting was a blazer over her athletic tank top and trading out her track pants for loose fitting black cotton pants. It was a great feeling – realizing she could walk away from the client meeting and probably be happier for it. Monserrat met Dominika’s gaze calmly, leaning into the power of her resting bitch face.

Dominika leaned back in her chair, ceding the staring contest. “With as much experience as you have, you must have met Littles that want to protest that they aren’t Little. In my experience that’s the majority, even.”

“From the second session on, I’m happy to play any game the client requests. I have a Little girl I regularly watch who starts every session telling me that I’m not her babysitter, she’s not Little, and that her caregiver isn’t her Mommy.” Monserrat shrugged, annoyed at the way her blazer went taught at the smallest motion of her shoulders. They didn’t make off the rack blazers big enough for someone with Monserrat’s shoulders. “I don’t mind doing that for her and her Mommy – but the first session has to be free of ambiguous language and the Little has to clearly consent to being babysat.”

“God, that’s a pain in the ass.” Dominika rubbed her temples. “She’s going to say no, even though she had a great time being Little full time for two weeks. If you need me to sweeten the pot, I can connect you with an entire sorority and fraternity of ABDLs.”

“I’m sorry, Dominika.” Monserrat rose from her chair, smiling to soften some of the bluntness of the gesture. My principles aren’t for sale, only my time. “Let me know when Keeley wants to be babysat and I’ll be glad to help out.”

“Wait!” Dominika slapped her hand on the table. “I might still be able to meet your terms. I haven’t said I don’t want to hire you yet.”

But I might not want to be hired by you. Monserrat folded her arms and said, “We’re both busy women…”

“Please.” Dominika looked up at Monserrat with concern that made the babysitter hesitate. “I need your help. Keeley’s situation is complex, but there are times when she’s not okay on her own – and one of those is coming up.”

“I’m listening.” Monserrat resumed her seat, hoping Dominika’s concern was really genuine – and that she wasn’t about to get a hard sales pitch.

“Keeley has a boyfriend named Zach. He’s a drug addict. When Keeley’s parents aren’t home, he takes her to unsafe places, and gives her hard drugs.” Dominika sighed. “She can’t say no to him. But she’ll ignore him the minute one of her Nannies says she has to.”

“But you’ll be out of town this weekend?” Monserrat cast her thoughts back to the client inquiry Dominika had sent her. It had been a lot more vague than what Dominika was telling her now, but what little detail she’d gotten matched Dominika’s current story.

“Yes, and so will Vidette, her other Nanny. Keeley has another caregiver, who’ll also be out of town.” Dominika frowned. “I want you to know, this isn’t a case of me needing you to help salve my conscience. I have a business deal I’d really rather not miss out on, but if you can’t help me, I’ll ditch that deal and stay with Keeley to keep Zach away from her.”

“I want to help – genuinely. That doesn’t mean I’m going to break my rule about consent.”

“Can you help me convince her? I’ll have Vidette help me convince her, but when you show up, can you do the final leg of the journey if needed?”

“As long as I can be completely clear and up front about what I’m there for, yes.”

“Deal.” Dominika reached across her desk and shook Monserrat’s hand. “Thank you, seriously. Now, let’s talk details. There are some things you should know about Keeley’s home life.”

~~~*~~~

Mansion was a good word for Keeley’s house. Small palace would have fit as well. Acres of riverfront property had confronted Monserrat when she navigated to the address she’d been given. It was also the most boring expensive building she’d seen. The entire exterior was white with a hint of cool gray. All the windows were rectangular, without any interior panes. A tower seemed to be added for opulence alone – it certainly didn’t fit the luxury ranch style theme of the rest of the house.

And yet, this ugly thing has to be worth at least five, maybe ten million, Monserrat thought, as she waited for someone to answer the white pine door. It didn’t surprise her at all to see a man in suit and black tie open the door. For the ultra-high-end babysitting gig, Monserrat had gone for black and white herself, in a knee length gathered skirt and a translucent black silk top over a white satin camisole.

“Good morning. Ms. Navarrete, I presume?” The butler stepped back graciously, indicating that Monserrat should enter with a sweeping gesture.

“That’s me. You’re welcome to call me Monserrat if you like, Mr….?”

“Renault. No relation to the car company. I was told you’d be here for Miss Hartwell. Please follow me, Ms. Navarrete.” Mr. Renault – or is it just Renault, like he’s a vampire minion? – was off and up a pristine white set of stairs. The whole house was done in white, with the occasional break for a pale yellow accent or white pine paneling.

“I don’t know if Dominika told you that Zach is planning to come over,” Monserrat said, as they walked down the cavernous halls, nearly empty of decoration. “I’d appreciate it if you could turn him away at the door.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to send that young man packing,” Renault said. “However, if Miss Hartwell asks me to admit him, I can’t take your instruction over hers.”

“I think I can handle Keeley, she’s been prepped for my arrival. As long as she doesn’t send you instructions to the contrary, can you tell Zach she’s not available?”

“Consider it done.” Renault knocked once on a white doorway, the same as all the rest in the hall. Without waiting for an answer, he gently opened the door and announced, “Ms. Navarrete to see you, Miss Hartwell.”

“UGH.” The groan that came out of Keeley might not have been the brattiest Monserrat had ever heard from a Little – but it was in contention for the top certainly. Keeley’s noise of displeasure was issued casually enough that Monserrat was sure the girl had more bratty depths to plumb, and that she had a for-sure Little on her hands.

Monserrat stood at the doorway, waiting with Renault for something more conclusive than a single guttural noise. After a minute, there was a soft thump in the room, followed by a blonde girl rolling across the carpet. Keeley stopped on her back, looking up at Monserrat and Renault. “You can come in, I guess.”

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Renault deftly closed the door behind Monserrat, leaving the babysitter in a true horror of “upscale” decoration.

The walls were white, as was the couch, the carpet, and the side table. The lamp shade was white, and its base was platinum. It’s probably actually made of platinum. The room’s curtains were gauzy white, which made the armchair the only thing in the room with a hint of color. It was yellow pine, upholstered in white.

Keeley, on the other hand, was dressed in a rainbow skirt of gauzy synthetic material and had on a hot-pink shirt. The shirt clashed violently with the skirt, but in a way that could be considered a modern look, especially with each of Keeley’s nails painted a different color. She was cute and sexy in a carefree way that made Monserrat certain that the girl had options beyond rich burnouts – though she wouldn’t be the first girl who stuck with a useless boyfriend.

“Good morning, Keeley. I’m Monserrat, but you can call me Monchi. I’ll be your babysitter all day.”

“I already have a babysitter.” Keeley sat up, putting her back to Monserrat. “Her name is Trish, and I love her. You can go.”

“Then why’d you invite me in?” Monserrat took a seat next to Keeley, deliberately in the Little girl’s vision. “I heard from Dominika and Vidette about Trish, but she can’t be here today.”

“It’s weird doing this dumb baby game with a stranger.” Keeley huffed. “I don’t want a babysitter.”

“Are you sure?” Monserrat patted Keeley on the leg. “If that’s the way you feel, I’ll go.”

“You will?” Keeley frowned at Monserrat in surprise.

“I will. You need to consent to this, or the session is off.”

“You’re just like Trish.” Keeley rolled her eyes. When Monserrat shifted, she quickly grabbed for the babysitter’s arm. “Wait! I – I told my nanas that I’d let you babysit me. I consent, okay? But that doesn’t mean the game isn’t dumb, or that this isn’t weird.”

“I’m glad to hear that you consent. Hopefully I can put together a day that won’t be dumb or weird, but that part will be up to you.” Monserrat chuckled.

“Let’s just get it over with.” Keeley wrinkled her nose at Monserrat. “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead with what?” Monserrat tilted her head curiously.

“Putting me in a stupid diaper.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, unless I have your permission.”

“You’re not?” Keeley’s jaw dropped.

“Vidette gave me Trish’s contact information. She and I had a very productive discussion that helped me be more comfortable with this job – and gave me a better idea of what you need.” Monserrat held out her hand. “I am going to take your phone, though. You’re going to be out of contact with Zach for the rest of the day.”

“I always have to wear a diaper when I play the baby game.” Keeley fished her phone out of her ample cleavage and handed it to Monserrat without a whisper of rebellion.

“Not today, unless you ask for one, or have an accident.” Monserrat tucked Keeley’s phone away in her diaper bag.

“That’s weird.” Keeley frowned.

“Is it?” Monserrat smiled slyly. “I thought the baby game was weird, and dumb. It’s a surprise that you want to be diapered.”

“I don’t!” Keeley shouted.

“Keeley, don’t shout at me. It’s rude to shout in general, but as your babysitter, I won’t tolerate it.” Monserrat was impressed at how quickly her correction cowed the Little girl, Keeley shrank in on herself and even blushed.

“I’m sorry na… uh, what do I call you?”

“I told you, you can call me Monchi.” She patted Keeley’s cheek. “If you really want to be formal, you can call me Ms. Navarrete, but you don’t have to do that unless you’re in trouble.”

“I’m a good girl! I never get in trouble.” Keeley’s voice had regressed substantially, as had her expression. Considering how effortless the Little girl’s transformation was, Monserrat could sympathize with Dominika’s frustration – but was glad she’d stood her ground.

“That’s not what I hear from your nannies, or your girlfriend.”

“No fair.” Keeley wrinkled her nose. “You’re really not going to put me in a diaper?”

“Not right now.”

“Well – I’m going to put a pullup on.” Keeley shot to her feet in a poof of rainbow skirt. “Don’t watch, Monchi!”

“Go ahead.” Monserrat stood with considerably less explosive energy, and more grace. “I need to get something from my car.”

The saving grace of the mansion’s ultra open, austerely simple design was that it made the house easy to navigate. A side trip to the kitchen revealed an extravagance of a professional setup in gleaming stainless steel. It was a kitchen that belonged in a restaurant that fed a hundred people a night – and while Monserrat didn’t know how many servants lived on the property, she was certain the Hartwell family numbered only three. As she was shaking her head at the opulence, a man in a chef’s coat moved to intercept her.

“Hi, I’m Louis, the estate’s chef.” Louis was short, slender, and dark of hair – with a very French nose to go with his light French accent.

“Monserrat.” Monchi smiled, and shook Louis’ offered hand. “I’m entertaining Keeley today.”

“And keeping her boyfriend out of the house, I hear. That earns you plenty of points with the staff.”

“It sounds like nobody likes Zach except Keeley.”

“If she liked him, we’d still be concerned but have less of a problem with him.” Louis shook his head. “As far as I can tell, Ms. Hartwell doesn’t like Mr. McGovern. She sees him mostly on inertia, and because he irritates her parents.”

“I confiscated her phone, and asked Renault to tell Zach that Keeley isn’t available if he shows up.” Monserrat grinned. “Does that get me enough points to buy a fancy lunch for Keeley? Something tea-party appropriate?”

“It does more than that. I’ll prepare lunch for two. Do you want to know the menu ahead of time?” At Monserrat’s nod, Louis continued, “For a tea party – but still to be substantial – I’ll make miso butter daikon steaks. The protein should be light – hmm – let’s do seared ahi tuna, crusted with sesame and Szechuan spices. I’ll put a fresh snow pea salad with Pecorino Romano cheese on the side – as well as some house-made shortbreads for dipping in your tea.”

Monserrat swallowed, chuckling as her stomach quietly rumbled. “That sounds – beyond my expectations. When will it be ready for me to pick up?”

“The earliest I can have it done is one o’clock. My staff will bring it up then, or any later time you prefer.”

“One will be perfect. Thank you. I’m getting the feeling that Keeley needs a lot of TLC, and this will help.”

“She does. Despite her parents, Keeley is a sweet girl – she’s got a lot of sympathy from the staff, and she could bother us a lot more than she does.”

Monserrat chuckled. “You’re not afraid to speak your mind about your employer.”

“I have two Michelin stars.” Louis snorted. “I’m employed here at my convenience, not that of the Hartwells.”

“I’m getting to know how that is myself. It feels good.” Monserrat smiled, exchanged another warm handshake with Louis, and finished her trip out to her car.

The trip back was a bit of a bear – even Monserrat’s bulky arms strained a bit with the weight of the blue canvas duffel she hauled to Keeley’s room. By the time she tracked Renault down, she had a healthy glow in her cheeks.

“Renault!” Monserrat took a deep breath. “I’m glad I caught you. Can I ask another favor?”

“It depends.” Renault turned crisply, approaching Monserrat and coming to a stop just out of arm’s length. “What do you need?”

“I’m going to help Keeley paint a wall in her room.”

“Oh, lovely! Miss Hartwell will be enchanted with the idea.”

“I’m not asking anyone to lie to their employer, but I’ve heard that Keeley’s mother doesn’t want the room redecorated.” Monserrat hefted the heavy bag on her shoulder. “All I’m asking is that no one volunteer that Keeley painted her room, without being asked.”

“I think it would be entirely inappropriate for anyone to raise that subject with Ms. Hartwell.” Renault said. “I won’t breathe a word, and you can be sure that the rest of the staff will follow suit.”

“Thanks, Renault.”

“Thank you for taking care of our Miss Hartwell, Ms. Navarrete.”

~~~*~~~

Monserrat found Keeley back in the front room of her suite, artfully posed on the floor with her feet toward the door. The shortness of the Little girl’s skirt and the way she was idly kicking her feet guaranteed Monserrat a glimpse of the pastel purple pullup Keeley was wearing.

“I see you put a pullup on.” Monserrat smirked as Keeley flipped herself over, with a “shocked” expression on her face. “You might want to change the rest of your clothes too, we’re going to get messy.”

“What do you mean?” Keeley eyed the heavy bag as Monserrat set it on her carpet with a thump.

“I brought some paints, quite a few different colors. We’re going to paint one of your walls.”

“Really?!” Keeley’s eyes were full of stars – until she slumped and they brimmed with tears. “I can’t. Mom won’t let me.”

“I hear from Vidette that your mom never comes to your room.”

“The housekeepers will tell her.”

“They will not.” Monserrat unzipped the duffel to reveal a double-row of quart sized paint cans, along with brushes, drop cloths, and other supplies. “I talked to Renault and he said that telling your mother would be entirely inappropriate.”

“That’s as close as he ever comes to cursing.” Keeley giggled. “Okay, I’ll change – but what about your clothes?”

“Don’t worry, I have some coveralls in the bag.” Without further ado, Monserrat stripped down to her bra and panties, while Keeley stared in awe. It was a nice ego boost – having the body she’d worked so hard to sculpt ogled by a cute girl – but more importantly Monserrat hoped it’d set a tone and a comfort level for the Little girl.

After Keeley had recovered from staring at Monserrat’s abs – mostly because they were tucked away behind denim coveralls – she seemed to take the hint. Keeley left her bedroom door open, changing in full view of the suite’s front room, despite having plenty of space with which to be out of sight. She beamed like a happy puppy to be praised for her choice of a dusty t-shirt and even more dusty overalls. Whatever hell those clothes had been through, it had left them with an acrid smell and sun-faded spots. Paint splotches would be an improvement over the dingy grey tone the dust gave them.

All three caregivers that Monserrat had talked to had praised Keeley’s artistic abilities, and if anything, they’d been downplaying the Little girl’s skill. They’d hardly put brush to wall before Monserrat realized that the best she could do was fill in spaces within Keeley’s design. She coaxed the Little girl into painting outlines – which turned out to be a rainbow of curved shapes that looked like a cross between a fireworks explosion and the outreaching leaves of a snake plant.

While Monserrat diligently filled in the “leaves”, Keeley was busy with a detail brush creating mice that peeked out from slivers between the colored shapes. Under Keeley’s seemingly effortless brush strokes, a few curved or crooked lines would resolve into a cute mouse with a ton of personality in its expression. As one o’clock approached, Monserrat diverted Keeley to the bathroom to wash her hands – which the Little girl did obediently, despite a bit of grousing. Lunch arrived right on schedule, with a knock at the suite door and smells that set both girls’ bellies rumbling.

“Lunch time, Keeley – and tea-time too. Do you have any stuffies that could join us for tea?”

Keeley giggled in delight, her expression shifting in a way that gave Monserrat the rare opportunity to visibly see a Little girl descend into Littlespace. With a whale, a lobster, and a rat that had been loved to shabbiness in her arms, Keeley’s steps took on the trademark stompiness of a true Adult Baby. She plopped down on the floor hard too, enough that Monserrat had to wonder if Keeley had forgotten how thin the padding on her rear was.

“Oh, Louis made three of my favorites!” Keeley clapped her hands excitedly.

“Of course.” Monserrat smiled, stroking Keeley’s hair. “Everybody wants you to have a good day today.”

“Instead of the day I would have had with Zach, you mean.” Keeley looked soulfully up at Monserrat. At her babysitter’s answering nod, she scooted over until she was hip to hip with Monserrat, clutching her stuffed rat in her arms.

“Do you want me to feed you?” Monserrat cut a creamy slice of daikon radish and held it up to Keeley. The Little girl leaned forward to take the bite.

It took Monserrat a while to feed Keeley, with the Little snuggled up against her. Though her own lunch was lukewarm at best by the time Keeley was done eating, the flavors still danced on her tongue. I wonder if Louis would ever cater a dinner – and if his contract with the Hartwells would even let him. The way Monserrat’s jobs were still ramping up, and with Dominika’s information about the Delta Lambda Gamma and Beta sorority and fraternity, she might well have enough money to blow on a super special meal for her polycule. Not that I could tell them how much it cost, if I was able to work it out. They wouldn’t think it was worth it – but at a certain point, I’m realizing that the money matters less than the experience.

With her own lunch done, Monserrat was introduced to Bertha the Whale and Gordo the Rat. The lobster’s name seemed to be in flux – it was clearly only there to round out the numbers. She politely raised her cup to each of the stuffies in turn and took a sip, discovering a blueberry rooibos tea that was almost as delightful as the meal.

“I have to hide Gordo when Mom’s around,” Keeley said, gulping down her third cup of tea.

“From the house’s – aesthetic – I’m guessing she doesn’t like how old and well loved he is.” Monserrat put an arm around Keeley and was rewarded with the Little girl cuddling even closer to her.

“She hates anything that’s old, or colorful, or common.” In apparent total comfort with Monserrat, Keeley rested her head against her babysitters bosom. “She’d FLIP if she saw what we’re doing to the wall.”

“That’s why we picked a wall in your bedroom, in case she looks into your suite.” Monserrat gave Keeley a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure that no one will tell her, anyway. The house staff seem to really like you.”

“I don’t know why.” Keeley sighed. “I mean, I try not to be mean to them like Mom and Dad are, but it’s not like I really know them or anything.”

“Getting to know them is tricky – since they’re at work when they’re around you – but just being nice to them is enough, I think. You’re a good girl.”

“Even if – if I um…” Keeley squirmed. “If I kind have wet pants?”

Monserrat chuckled. “Since you were responsible enough to put a pullup on – yes. What do you say to a diaper and a nap?”

“That sounds good except um – I’m not sleepy but – there’s this thing that Trish showed me and uh – it could help me fall asleep.” Keeley was wiggling almost constantly; her cheeks were bright pink.

Monserrat had a good idea of what Keeley wanted, but pressed the Little girl anyway. “Oh? What’s this thing?”

“Um, uh, using a vibrator on um – where I’m wet.” Keeley giggled, hiding her face against Monserrat’s breast. “Is that okay, Monchi? I looked up the site you’re on and it’s for sex stuff but then they say not everyone does sex stuff and…”

“Shh.” Monserrat put a finger to Keeley’s lips. “I don’t go as far as sex with the Littles I babysit, but I can do that for you.”

“Okay, thanks – woah!” Keeley squealed happily as Monserrat picked her up in a princess carry and rose to her feet. “Oh that’s hot.”

“It is, huh?” Monserrat grinned, shifting Keeley to her hip – as a deliberate flex, but also to get a free hand for her diaper bag. “You looked pretty turned on before too. Is being in a wet diaper hot?”

“Yeah – it doesn’t make sense and it’s dumb and weird – and really sexy.”

With a couple of awkward hefting motions to keep the Little girl on her hip balanced, Monserrat managed to lay a changing blanket out of Keeley’s bed and set her on it. The blonde girl’s flush was undimmed as Monserrat peeled her out of her dusty, painted overalls and t-shirt. “Does it have to make sense? It can just be a good feeling.”

“I like that – you’re smart.” Keeley was already running her hands along her bare body – she arched her back and moaned softly when the vibrator touched her soggy crotch. The conversation came to an abrupt end with the vibrator buzzing to life. Moans and gasps were the extent of Keeley’s vocabulary as she alternately squirmed away from the vibration and pressed her crotch hard against it.

The scream Keeley gave wasn’t timid or quiet at all, its lusty energy put a lot of pink in Monserrat’s cheeks to match the baby girl’s. Keeley looked docile – and blissfully happy as Monserrat tore the sides of her pullup and cleaned her up. When the smooth, fresh clean of the wipes gave way to heavy padding under Keeley’s rear, and silky lotion on her skin – the Little girl put her thumb in her mouth. She was drifting off when Monserrat applied the powder; barely awake by the time her diaper was secured.

Seeing no point in waking the girl to put her in pajamas, Monserrat slid the changing blanket and covers out from under Keeley and tucked her in. The small break gave Monserrat time to return their dishes to the kitchen and get the paintbrushes in order for round two. When she woke Keeley, the Little girl was thirsty – and a little damp in her diaper. On a whim, Monserrat tried giving the baby girl cool water in a baby bottle, which Keeley took to eagerly.

It was a heck of a journey the cherubic blonde had made, from pouty rich girl to mostly-naked baby sucking on a bottle. Monserrat had a bubbly, ditzy Little on her hands who preferred to communicate in monosyllables for most of the afternoon. The only thing Littlespace didn’t downgrade for Keeley was her artistic ability. If anything, her art was better when she was Little, though Monserrat had to admit she wasn’t qualified to judge.

~~~*~~~

Hours later, Monserrat made her way out of the mansion after tucking Keeley into bed for a second time. While the setting sun splashed gold over the pristine white driveway, Monserrat listened to Renault explain that Mr. McGovern had been very upset when he was turned away from the mansion. His pleased smile matched the warm glow in Monserrat’s heart, which in turn matched the pink hues settling into the clouds. She wants to be someone her world won’t let her be – I hope she finds a way to be the Little girl she’s meant to be – soon.