Babysitting Depression

“Alright Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms, Maximus and I are gonna go out on business for tonight, so Azalea will look after you,” Deborah informed. Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms, better known as Depression Kitty, gleefully clapped. If she ever had a choice in sitters, Azalea ranked the highest.

Perhaps it was because of how it felt that first time they met. She’d always thrived upon the misery of others. Hence the name Depression Kitty and Azalea, certainly, had misery in spades. That why when Deborah and Maximus left, she was resting her head in Azalea’s lap, purring.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun tonight,” Depression Kitty purred. Azalea rolled her eyes and stared at the list Deborah had given her.

1.Feed Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms
2.1hr of television after dinner
3.Bath time

Azalea grumbled a bit at the lack of time intervals. Although considering it was 7:30 pm, she’d best get started now.

“Alright, let’s get you dinner.” Azalea was immediately puzzled. Despite her best efforts, Depression Kitty’s head was heavier than it had any right to be. Depression Kitty’s purring became louder, the fat feline scooting further along Azalea’s lap. Eventually, her entire weight was on Azalea’s lap.

During the entire time, Depression Kitty locked eyes with her, smugly smirking at her. Azalea scowled then turned her body into smoke. She reformed off the couch, back turned to the fat cat.

“Now come on. I’m not in the mood for - HEY!” Azalea’s quickly picked up by Depression Kitty. She’s held tightly in her grip, the larger cat licking the smaller one’s face. Grooming her as if Depression Kitty was the one in charge.

“Now wait just a minute, I could stand to wait a bit longer,” her grin grew as Azalea growled. “You, however…”

Depression Kitty got off the couch, strolling over to the kitchen. Azalea struggled to escape her unimaginably strong grip. Every attempt to phrase through her arms was met with a simple push back into them. All Azalea could only sigh as she’s strapped into a highchair.

Normally, she’d take this opportunity to burst free. However, like most things in Deborah’s house, it was designed specifically to keep her in check. So she was powerless to defend herself as Depression Kitty placed several jars of food and a tablespoon on the table. A spoonful of brown mush is lifted to her maw.

“Open up honey, it’s salmon flavor. Your fave,” Depression Kitty pokes Azalea’s left cheek with the spoon. Small splashes of mush stained her cheek. Nonetheless, she kept poking and poking until Azalea snapped.

“FUCK OFF!” Azalea screamed. In that short bit, Depression Kitty shoved the spoon into her mouth. She withdrew it, smirking as Azalea swallowed. Soon another spoonful is brought to her maw.

“I bet that tastes really good,” Depression Kitty wasn’t wrong. It did taste good, “and it’s good for growing kittens. So be a good girl and finish your dinner.”

With a sigh, Azalea opened her mouth for Depression Kitty. Several tablespoons later, the four jars were empty and Azalea’s muzzle was covered in grey and green mush. Depression Kitty took a wet cloth to the blue cat’s cheeks, remarking, “Such a messy kitten.”

Maybe I wouldn’t be if you didn’t flick baby food on my cheeks, Azalea thought. When she finished, Depression Kitty tossed the jars into the trash and the spoon into the sink. To her surprise, Depression Kitty didn’t undo the restraints. Instead, she left her there while rummaging through the fridge.

“Unlike a certain kitten, I’ll have some real food,” Depression Kitty taunted. Azalea rolled her eyes. The fat purple cat pondered her options, listing them loudly for her babysitter to hear.
Azalea’s face had a neutral expression. It would take a lot more than this to get on her nerves. Or so she thought.

In Deborah’s fridge, for some reason, had a freshly made cornish hen with a note written by it. ‘For the babysitter only’ was written on it. Eyes settled on it, Depression Kitty took it and sat at the table.

In full view of Azalea.

“Ah yes, I get to have real food and not kitten chow.” Depression Kitty took a whiff of the oddly still warm hen. “Yup, Mommy made it especially for the babysitter and clearly…”

“I’m not the one wearing a diaper.”

“But I’m not in a highchair, waiting for someone to let her out,” Depression Kitty retorted before taking a bite out from the main body.

She bit into it slowly and chewed with her mouth open. Taunting her by exaggerating how good it tasted with every bite. Going on and on about wonderful it tasted.

Smirking at her babysitter for a bit as she patted her full stomach, “Aw what a wonderful meal. Now it’s time for television.”

Admittedly, she was a bit taken back by what happened next. Depression Kitty undid Azalea’s restraints and the two went into the living room. The purple fat cat plopped on the floor, dragging Azalea into her lap. She wrapped her legs and an arm around Azalea, holding her steady in place in between her legs.

“Now let’s watch our favorite show,” Depression Kitty announced, remote in her free paw. Azalea, struggling to get comfortable, cringed.

“Our favorite show?” she repeated. When Depression Kitty changed the channel, her captive shrieked in anger.

A male green and female purple rabbit appeared on screen, smiling almost smugly at the viewing audience. The green rabbit munched on a carrot then said, “Hiya tunies! I’m Gary Bunny.”

“And I’m Mary Bunny.”

After a brief glance at each other, they turn to the camera and add, “No relation.”

“Fucking kill me,” Azalea groaned. Magic words to Depression Kitty’s ears. Evident by her raising the volume until neither could ignore the rabbits’ asinine voices. She tried to close her eyes but Depression Kitty didn’t let her.

Two claws kept Azalea’s eyes open and a paw held her face facing the television.

“No. Watch it, sweetie. You’ll love it.”

“This cartoon is fucking awful!” Azalea screamed.

It wasn’t long into the viewing that Depression Kitty slightly uneased her grip on Azalea. The blue cat, laid slum on the larger feline’s chest, groaning at the awfulness of this cartoon.

The awful, boring, humor. Numerous outdated pop culture references. Their annoying attempt to be a kid-friendly version of a much more entertaining series. A rising surge in hoping the lead characters die. If it wasn’t someone else’s television, she’d have smashed it to pieces by now.

By the time it was over, Azalea was visibly defeated from an hour-long marathon of a cartoon she hated.

“Bath time,” Azalea spoke through gritted teeth. Her charge shook her head.

“Nope, time for a rerun. We’re having so much fun, let’s watch it again.” Before Azalea had time to respond, Depression Kitty had already restarted the show.

Putting her foot down, darkness gathered around Azalea. Irises consumed in shadow, she turned back to glare at Depression Kitty.

“Bath time or-”

“Or else what?” Depression Kitty asked.

As an answer, the fat cat was held up by her throat. Azalea tightened her grip, narrowing her eyes as Depression Kitty wheezed for air. Strangely enough, Depression Kitty’s smile never faltered.

“If you keep this up, what will Mommy think?” She wondered.

“Huh?” Azalea, whether she realized it or not, loosened her grip.

“If Mommy gets home and I’m hurt, she’ll think you aren’t ready to live outside her care,” once the realization she was right became apparent on Azalea’s face did she continue, “Yup, you’ll be back here and I’ll have a new cute little sister.”

The feline was caught in a bind and her charge knew it. She once ended up in Deborah’s care, in part, because she didn’t believe the tabby could care for herself. Not that Azalea was challenged in any particular way, the Dalmatian just didn’t trust Azalea by herself.

If enduring this meant freedom then…

“Good girl.”

Azalea lowered Depression Kitty. Surveying her neck, there didn’t appear to be any marks or bruises. With that good news aside, she retook her spot between Depression Kitty’s legs.She snuggled Azalea closely, purring as she resumed the cartoon. The entire time, Azalea didn’t cringe or groan about it.

She just sat there and watched with an occasional whimper escaping her muzzle. There was a second rerun, then a third, and a fourth. Every time Azalea brought up bathtime Depression Kitty would threaten to tattle to Deborah. The torture ended on the fifth rerun.

Now that television time was over, bath time had begun.

Azalea balled up Depression Kitty’s diaper and turned her back to toss it in the trash. Depression Kitty, currently in the bathtub, got out of the tub and pinned Azalea to the walk.

“What the fuck are you-”

“Just getting you ready for bath time,” Depression Kitty calmly answered after lowering Azalea’s shorts.

“Well, could you not? Get back in the tub now!” Azalea ordered. Her charge shook her head once more. She leaned close to Azalea’s right ear.

“Unless you want every night to be us and Mr. Bubbles, we’ll get you undressed and into that tub with me,” Depression Kitty responded. Blushing, Azalea made no effort to resist. Her clothes were quickly discarded and she hopped in the tub. Not surprisingly, Depression Kitty didn’t accompany her in the tub.

Azalea let out a defeated sigh, sinking into the tub. Shampoo is poured onto her head. Depression Kitty massaged all over Azalea’s fur, including her sensitive areas. Whenever she’d complain, a simple reminder of ending up in the Dalmatian’s care shut her up.

A shower head rinsed off all shampoo, matting down Azalea’s fur. Depression Kitty led her out of the tub into an awaiting towel. Both got a slight chuckle out Azalea becoming a fuzzy puffball when her fur was dried.

Several black waves brushed her fur until it was back to her standards. Not that it mattered at all. The moment she finished Depression Kitty went right into the tub, dragging Azalea with her. Irritation radiated from Azalea whilst her charge hugged like a plush, purring.

“Does Deborah go through this every night or am I just special?”

“Mommy’s not much so fun but you,” she leaned in close to Azalea’s ear, “are perfect.”

Azalea squirmed and struggled to escape her grip. Much like before, Depression Kitty’s grip was stronger than it should’ve been.

Another sigh of defeat escaped her lips. Cloaking a washrag and soap in a black aura, she doses them in water before lathering the rag.

Other than her charge’s constant purring, bathing her wasn’t too much of a pain. Now the only thing that remained was bedtime. Which something told her was going to be the most difficult part of the night.

So far, however, it didn’t seem like it. Depression Kitty got onto the changing table without any hassle. Something that disturbed Azalea but, she put it aside. She was understandably grateful for that much.

Diapering her was as easy as it should be. Other than her annoying purring, Depression Kitty shook her crinkly bottom in Azalea’s face.

“Your diaper changing skills are superb. A shame that’s all you have going for you,” Depression Kitty taunted. Azalea rolled her eyes, lifting the fat cat in a dark glow. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her paw shaking. Also of notice was that Depression Kitty was still on the changing table.

I’ve lift heavier things than her so what gives? Azalea wondered. Immediately, her ears perked up. Suddenly, the purple fat cat was directly behind.

“You’re off your game, aren’t you?” For the umpteenth time of the night, Depression Kitty bear-hugged Azalea. As always, she pointlessly struggled to escape. To Azalea’s concern, she wasn’t able to turn herself into smoke to escape.

Azalea was just helpless in Depression Kitty’s arms.

“Clearly. Now what, shove me into a locking diaper? Maybe one from the diaper pail?” Azalea rolled her eyes. Depression Kitty, still purring, nuzzled her head against Azalea.

“I have a better idea.”

Holding Azalea with one paw, she tugged the front of her diaper open with the other. Azalea’s ears clamp down and her eyes widen. This fat cat wasn’t…

“The inside of a diaper is more fitting for you.”

“I fucking swear Fluffy Bottoms, if you-” Mid-sentence, Azalea is shoved into Depression Kitty’s diaper. With much effort, Azalea fought to avoid this but was ultimately shoved inside the diaper. She coughed up several puffs of powder, desperately trying to escape or get comfortable.

If there was any relief to this was that Depression Kitty’s rump and padding were equally soft. Not that it meant much given the situation. Clicking sounds from outside the diaper brought even greater dread to her. Her struggles to escape resumed. Her greatest fears were realized when the diaper wouldn’t even bulge from a push.

The locking function of the diaper had been activated. Now Azalea was trapped until someone other than her captor changed the diaper.

If this wasn’t bad enough, Depression Kitty picked up the pack of diapers her current diaper came from. Yellow eyes scanned features listed on the side of the pack. After reading a certain line, she giddy with joy.

“Any living creature inside of this diaper while it’s being used will become a diaper,” Depression Kitty read along. Of course, she left out it was temporary but the damage was done. She could feel Azalea thrashing and hear her demanding she not use her diaper.

“Being a diaper might be the closest thing to an icon you’ll ever be.”

Depression Kitty relaxed, a faint hissing sound is heard. Azalea, squished between the diaper and Depression Kitty’s butt, screamed. Pieces of her body melted away, becoming diaper fluff and making the fat cat’s diaper thicker.

One last pathetic escaped Azalea’s muzzled when she saw Depression Kitty’s butt cheeks split open. She closed her eyes, clamped her ears, and shut her mouth tightly.

A few wet farts erupted from her tail hole. Pungent-smelling shit coated her face. Though it lasted for a moment. After settling on her face for a second or so, what remained of her was absorbed into the padding.

When Azalea opened her eyes again, she noticed how crinkly her body felt. She whimpered from sudden soggy feel washing over her. As well as that awful feeling of someone’s feces pressing into her skin.

Quickly, the diaper discolored from the wetting, Azalea’s face becoming green. If she could cry or complain, she would. Not a single word could be heard from the living diaper.
Even if she could, a few more hard grunts from Depression Kitty silenced her. Azalea’s new body sagged further. She glared upward while her wearer laughed heartily.

“Not a good mascot. Not a worthwhile character. You weren’t much of anything really. But I’ll admit,” Azalea flinched from a few hard swats to her mushy back, “you make a good diaper. So good it’d be a shame to waste you.”

Those words, given her situation, were the last she wanted to hear. Depression Kitty waddled as fast as she could to the bathroom. Every movement a constant reminder of Azalea’s moderately used state.

Filling a glass near the sink with water, she went into the medicine cabinet. Depression Kitty grabbed two bottles. One a bottle of diuretics and the other a fast-acting laxative. Naturally,

Azalea couldn’t see them but she already had a hunch that’s what it was.

After taking her ‘medicine’, the fat cat scurried back to the nursery. Specifically the dresser. Opening the middle draw, a row of various rubber and plastic pants awaited her. Indiscriminately, she grabbed a pair of pink rubber pants.

It was a struggle but she got them over her diaper. Azalea screamed her audio less screams, whining about how tight it was. They weren’t about rip or anything, it was just tight. Azalea felt herself pressing even harder against Depression Kitty’s messy crotch and bump.

There weren’t be enough showers or baths in the world to make her feel clean again if she ever escaped. Those thoughts were brushed aside when the buttons snapping were heard below. Again, another sudden tightness made her cringe.

Between the tight onesie and rubber pants, the existing mess and pee inside her, or the awaiting usage, she wasn’t sure what was worst. Once more, Depression Kitty was on the move. This time, she lowered the crib bars and hopped inside. Throwing covers over herself, she made sure to position herself to smush Azalea against the crib bars.

“Goodnight my diaper,” Depression Kitty purred, peeing into her diaper.

“Night Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms,” Azalea responded.

As expected, Depression Kitty’s eyes widen. Her crib bars went up, effectively trapping her inside. Azalea then appeared, irises still consumed in shadow, smirking at the cat.

“Wha…WHAT?!” Depression Kitty shrieked.

“When I grabbed you earlier, I put in an illusion for a bit. Everything happened, just not as you think it happened,” Azalea turned her back to her charge before leaving.

Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms thought over the events of the night, filling in the blanks in her mind that suddenly appeared.

Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms, purring, sat in front of the television. Azalea was actually on the couch, playing on her phone. In her place was a plush blue cat.

During her bath, she was all fours while Azalea worked shampoo and soap into her fur. Purring the entire time.

After the bath and put it into a fresh diaper, she got back on all fours, peeing and pooping herself. Azalea was a bit surprised to watch Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms take a diuretic and a laxative. Not that she made any effort to stop it.

Nor did Azalea try to stop her from trapping herself in diapers. Or prevent her from putting on a tight pair of pink rubber pants or a purple onesie.

“You can’t leave me like this! Change me, please! I don’t want a rash,” Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms cried. Azalea at the door, shaking her head.

“We both know I can’t and won’t do that. Those clothes are cat-proof and meant to keep me in check,” Azalea paused to consider how much of Deborah’s ABDL stuff was meant specifically for her. Although, it was a discussion for another time.

For now, Azalea blew Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms a kiss, “Night night.”

She turned off the lights and closed the door. Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms tried to complain again but instead hugged her stomach.

“I’ll get you for this!” Were her last words before pushing out several large logs of poop and flushing her pants. She could only hope her diapers would hold long enough for Deborah or someone to change her.

I don’t get much feedback on any site I post stories, so I assume because they’re boring and long. So I tried to pick up a faster pace that may keep people interested.

I wouldn’t assume that. Babyfur is a very specific little corner of fetish fiction. Either you’re into anthropomorphic animals in ABDL situations or you’re not. It’s not about pace as much as it’s about content. Not saying don’t write what’s in your head, just saying don’t change how you write because you think silence is feedback.

1 Like

That unlikely to happen. Any story I write is really for me, I just share it with others in hope feedback. But I’m never going to write non-furry stuff.