I looked around as the door closed. That house was lavish and well-kept. The living room had huge windows that let in the daylight. The entryway and living-room had pictures of the two men at their wedding, on vacation, relaxing and training, which fell into place as I saw they were wrestlers. The TV set was enormous and the kitchen simple though I only glimpsed at it. Upstairs were their big room and next to it mine, as I could see by the nursery items covering mine. Their was another room next to it, but themed for a girl. Looks like they saved it for the next addition. Hopefully, not thanks to me. All had their own bathrooms.
"You like your room, Angel? Pretty?" said the one holding me.
There was a playpen, a crib, a cot, a frilly cradle, loads of toys, books, a changing table, pictures of bears on the walls, and even a rocking chair. The other man said something, kissed his husband and poked me. I moved to mean I didn't like it, but he ignored me superbly. The other proceeded to lie me down me on the changing table and retrieved a diaper. No! I squirmed and screamed. No way this was going to happen! He made some sushing sounds but I continued. He told me softly I was a good boy and that he knew it was not easy and that he understood and loved me. I wanted to say fuck to his love but at the same moment he shoved a pacifier in my mouth and tied it to my head. No choice but suck on it and quit my screams. I tried to move but his large hand held me in place. He raised my legs, powdered them and taped the diaper to me. I hated every second of it. It felt like having a pillow stuck to my butt. And I had been naked in front of him. He then produced a onesie that was bright blue with stars and dressed me in it. It was soft but degrading all the same. He picked me in his arms and went to the mirror in his bathroom.
"You are very cute. I am happy we chose you. You really are a little angel."
It felt weird to be with blond hair. I disagreed though. I wasn't cute. I looked like a stupid baby, like any other. I glared and squirmed again, the only ways to show my disapproval. He looked confused and tickled me under the chin. I giggled and he then smiled feebly and kissed me on the nose. He then set me on the carpet of the nursery and tried to engage me with some toys. I turned my head and didn't try to grasp them. My movements were weak anyway. Stupid weak body betraying me. I could see he was at a loss at what to do. Stupid oaf. He wanted a baby and now he didn't figure out how to even entertain me. He made baby noises at me. Idiot. He thought I was going to respond. Didn't he get it? When he tried to grab me I moved away. He could grab me no problem, but I wished to show him my foul dispositions towards him. Eventually he placed me in the playpen and gave me stuffed animals. I ignored these and so he leaned on the bars humming to himself and watching me just lying on the soft mattress. He pointed to objects and said the words in Spanish. He kept saying "Papa" and "Papa Sebastian" as well very often but no way was I going to repeat that or even pay attention.
A call came from the kitchen. Indeed a nice cooking smell had wafted up. It smelled like tacos. Yum! I adored those. I noticed how hungry I had been for a while. Sebastian perked up and picked me up. Downstairs the table had been set with tacos, cinnamon rolls, and even wine. I was placed in a high chair and the pacifier taken out of my mouth. I drooled in advance at the sight of this food. I'd start with the guacamole with beans and beef and... A clunk and a bib around my neck interrupted my thoughts. The clunk was a baby dish with cartoon characters with oatmeal, broccoli and baby fruit puree set in front of me. No. No. No. This was torture. Worse than the tickling and diapering. I wanted food. Real food. While Papa Sebastian served himself, the other man deciding to do a bit of parenting of his own took a spoon and tried to shovel food in my mouth. Great. Now being spoonfed... I closed my mouth resolutely while the man coaxed me. No. If it was to be this humiliating, then it might as well be real food. His finger then proceeded to chuck me under the chin. Of course I giggled and the food was pushed into my mouth. I spit it out on my bib. This was going to be playing into their game, but if it could help, I'd do it. I held out my hands towards the tacos and gurgled at them. The two new parents conversed briefly and I was showed the oatmeal again. I refused. Again I was tickled, and again I spit it out. The other man showed me a bottle of milk. He placed it in my mouth but I refused to suckle the warm liquid.
"Enough, little one. You get milk and baby food. But not food for adults. When you grow up. You eat what Papa Francisco gives you or nothing."
So I could differentiate them now. Good. Well, I'd rather go hungry. Maybe they'd call the storks back. They ate their dinner and left me in the chair. Then Francisco went upstairs. I was left with Sebastian. As soon as his husband was gone, he took some taco leftovers, cut them into tiny pieces and spoonfed me those quickly. I ate with relish. Oh, heaven... This was so, so good. Hearing the stairs creak, he wiped my face quickly and took off the bib. He then winked at me. Francisco came in and picked me up, and asked me to say goodnight. As if I could, even if I had wanted to. Sebastian kissed me. I was almost tempted to give him a real smile but I didn't. I didn't owe him anything. Francisco put me in the crib, not the cradle, placed some stuffed animals around me and kissed me. He spoke softly to me saying he knew I'd become a sweet boy soon and that he was strict for my own good. Yeah, right. He turned on a mobile above the crib and left. The mobile was hard to ignore and I was lying on my back. The little animals and the tune hypnotized me to sleep.
The next morning I awoke famished. Even the broccoli seemed appetizing now. A couple of tiny taco mouthfouls had clearly not been enough. The sun had risen. I refused to cry out. I got bored quickly too. Later when Sebastian came I was almost glad of it. He took me downstairs and when Francisco held me in his arms to drink the warm milk, I didn't hesitate at the bottle. I sucked at it until the last drop. Francisco let out a proud chuckle, the satisfied prick. I gobbled the oatmeal, puree and broccoli from last night, then washed it down with more milk. I was so full I could barely move. Stupid hungry body. Stupid infantile body. Both men looked at me proudly, as this showed my way to babyhood. My stomach suddenly hurt and I whimpered. Oh, no. Had I eaten to much and was now sick? Sebastian put a towel over his shoulder and patted me on the back. It felt nice, I thought, until I burped. Both guys congratulated me. How humiliating. Later Sebastian bathed me, gently washing me. I hated being cold, but when he dried me the tickling was just too much. He continued more than necessary, even afterwards when he blew raspberries to my belly. I barely resisted the diaper change. With all the food I knew it had to come out at one point.
And over the days a schedule was made, me resisting in spite of everything. I tried to merely ignore both homosexuals and just refuse to do what they wanted, but their insistence and mantra of saying they loved me very much and knew I'd soon be their little boy, the one they had always wished for started to get to me. They said they'd later tell me I was a poor abandoned baby who was found by them and rescued by them made me fear loosing my mind more and more. How long could I keep it?