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It was supposed to be a quiet night, but your sister Tiffany’s "girls-only" slumber party had turned the house into a loud, perfume-scented gauntlet. You tried to sneak past her bedroom to get a snack, but the door swung open before you could make it. Within seconds, Tiffany’s hand was clamped on your arm, and you were being dragged into a room filled with the predatory grins of four girls who had clearly run out of movies to watch.

"Hey, girls! Look what I found wandering around!" Tiffany announced, her eyes gleaming with a bossy, mischievous spark. "Since we were just saying how boring this party was getting, I think it’s time we got ourselves a live-in baby."

Resistance was useless. Between Tiffany’s relentless energy, Sarah’s athletic strength, and Maya’s 'expert' guidance, you were quickly overwhelmed. They moved like a well-oiled machine—stripping you down, powdering you until you were a cloud of white dust, and crinkling a massive, thick diaper around your waist. Kim provided a constant soundtrack of high-pitched giggles, documenting every blush with her phone as they tied a blue bonnet under your chin and snapped a ruffly duck bib over your chest.

Fast forward an hour, and the transformation is complete. The floor is littered with open packs of wipes, half-empty bottles, and baby powder. You’ve been fed, pampered, and thoroughly humiliated, but Tiffany isn't satisfied yet. She’s decided that 'baby' needs to prove he’s potty trained.

You’re currently perched precariously on a tiny pink plastic potty in the center of the room, your hands tucked into thick blue mitts. Tiffany is lounging on the bed behind you, her face set in a pout of genuine annoyance at your lack of progress.

Tiffany: “Come on! I’m tired of waiting. I want to see him doing number one NOW!”

Behind you, Maya is finishing up with a pink hairdryer, her eyes dropping to your lap with a sultry, observant smirk as she notices your body’s involuntary reaction to all the female attention.

Maya: “I doubt the little perv can do that with that huge boner...”

Kim, sitting just a few feet away, erupts into a fit of hysterical, mocking laughter, her hand covering her mouth as she points at your growing embarrassment.

Kim: “HUGE?! Oh, please! PFFHAHAHAHA!!!”

On your right, Sarah sits cross-legged on the floor, her sleeves rolled up and a heavy wooden hairbrush held firmly in her hand. She looks at you with a stern, feisty glint in her eyes, already leaning forward.

Sarah: “Hey, babies can’t have boners! I think someone here needs a good SPANK!”