Visiting the 'Baby'

Witnessing my first ABDL scene and learning how to be a better mother, with Priestess Francesca.

(Nothing explicit is discussed.)

When the blue pacifier dropped out of his mouth and a deep, low “thank you” emerged, I was startled and a little disappointed it was over.

I went to see the baby. Well, I went to witness the baby and my first ABDL scene orchestrated by Priestess Francesca. 

I had witnessed a scene of her’s the year prior that made me nauseous involving intense degradation in cleaning up the remnants of a golden shower. In that scene, I moved to the farthest place in the hotel room with my back against the wall while nervously checking my phone for anything to distract me from what was happening in the bathroom. I knew it was exactly as her friend wanted it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be there. I had consented, as I wanted to better understand the kinks and fetishes I had heard so much about. But my desire was too big for my capacity back then, having not even graduated from the Evolutionary Dominatrix Academy where she and I had met. 

Francesca has had years of experience in this calling that chose her. We share a common goal, to help liberate people from their shame. She does it directly through scene work and for me, I write about my experiences. So when she asked me to witness this very taboo kink of ABDL a year later, with more experience under my spandex, I couldn’t pass it up. Though, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

The day before the visit she prepped me. She said I was to act as if he was a real baby. Having had a child and been around babies, I didn’t think this would be difficult. 

When I walked in the room, I immediately took off my shoes and went to wash my hands. However, before stepping into the bathroom, I got a glance of the baby; the real man baby. Not one who takes no responsibility and needs a good mommy Domme to put him in his place but one who she told me ahead of time was “very responsible with his energy.”

He was a strong, 30ish-year-old man with light brown skin, lying on his back fully exposed, limbs splayed, wearing just a yellow Winnie the Pooh t-shirt and a diaper while clutching his star faced rattle. In the bathroom, I grounded myself with warm water and set my intention to bring love and acceptance to this human in this most vulnerable position.

They had just finished bath time. He looked cozy with his tousled, curly, long hair framing his face and eyes glazed over. When I walked towards him, he looked at me, just as a happy baby does, with their eyes like sparkling dark pools, taking everything in with no judgments or concerns. It wasn’t difficult to maintain eye contact with him, and I smiled lovingly at his generous reception.

They were reading a book featuring the Sesame Street characters and introducing colors. Francesca read the words in her soft, soothing voice and instructed us to take turns identifying the colors on each page. It was easy to play along and celebrate with each other at first. I even felt compelled to tickle his foot when he pointed at the feet of one of the book characters. He shook his rattle with glee, and I felt his radiating joy. I was very comfortable, so much so that something switched in me, back to my parenting days. I then announced to them both that “this is too easy” and suggested we make it more challenging for the baby so he could become even smarter. 

Francesca’s smiling face looked confused and the baby stopped giggling to take a labored breath. While I knew something was off, I thought ‘this is what you should do with a baby, this is what I did with my baby.’ 

Then, in a flash, I traced my daughter’s “out of nowhere” resentment towards me and affinity to her laid back father to all the times I made life more difficult so ‘she could grow.’ I was the challenger in her life. I realized this behavior may be a reason why people in their adult years would go seek out a fantasy reenactment where they could just let go. At that moment, I knew that I had another shot and it could start in that scene.

I stopped pressing my point and turned my attention outward, watching Francesca's patience for the mundane. I saw how she could get excited by anything, even the color red. I saw how simple things, like her booping his nose with joy, caused him to light up. It made me wonder why she hadn’t chosen to have a child, but another flash of insight showed that the impact she would have on the world was not through just one or a gaggle of children, but hundreds she would nurture throughout her life.

I followed her lead with a game of peekaboo, where I employed some of my more mellow parenting moments and really felt as if I were playing with a baby. This human was so surrendered, so perfectly held in this experience, that he could let go, and as he was at her breast, this became even more apparent. The rest of the details aren’t relevant for this piece, other than to say that what they experienced together, and what she was able to hold with such grace and love in such a taboo space, was a testament to her skill and commitment.

After the scene ended, he didn’t say much, other than sharing his thanks for the experience and pointing out how rare it was to find someone like her. He mentioned that other supposed professionals in the past had barely engaged with him, and one just gave him her phone to watch cartoons.

This made me feel a bit better about going overboard in the opposite direction, but I realized that Francesca has honed her craft, welcoming others to surrender to her. Whether it be lovingly in her arms or at her feet, she is truly a holy freak.