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Part 1 I can’t say I was in a bright point of my life, literally or figuratively. The perpetual darkness of third shift work coupled with the lackluster performance in my freshman year of college and losing my girlfriend of two years only a month before had sent me down a spiral of depression that I wasn’t certain would have an achievable recovery. I thought when I graduated from high school that I’d had life all figured out. I would take the job working the night shift at the airport for a few years, then go on to become a hot-shot business man or advertising executive. The airport would provide me with free tuition to the university a few hours from my home town, and the degree would get me the rest of the way. I guess to tell you a little bit about myself... I’m Adam Stafford. I’m the youngest child of Dennis and Joanne Stafford, and brother to Megan. I grew up in a small community that kept me sheltered from just about everything not small-town or Jesus-y. My Dad is a pilot for United Airlines, my Mom an executive for the local hospital. They divorced my sophomore year of highschool in a very messy battle, and pretty much alienated everyone in the family from each other. We’ve all gone our own ways, really only communicating for weddings, funerals, birthdays, or normal holidays. Don’t feel bad, it really is better this way. I had a pretty good childhood, no major complaints. I was always outgoing as a kid, knowing that a sharp wit and self-deprecating humor would remove any ammo that any school bullies would seek to leverage. Not to be arrogant, but I was a cute kid. Unfortunately for me, the cuteness never really went anywhere. I never hit that magical growth spurt that would cause me to tower above my friends, dunk a ball, or set records of the track. I currently stand a slightly below average height of 5’6”. I also never seemed to experience the flood of testosterone that would sculpt my body like a Greek god either. I guess I just stayed cute and youthful when everyone else became handsome and matured. But, like I said, I was never really picked on, so I didn’t mind my height or looks. I was moderately popular by highschool, usually being known as the smart-ass class clown. I had no trouble maintaining a 4.0 grade point average while also cutting jokes constantly. My humor and confidence opened up doors for me. I was nominated to prom court my Junior year, and also started dating a beautiful girl named Sarah. She was a grade younger than I was and came from a well-respected family not far from mine. As my perverted uncle Nick would say “That girl comes from good stock.” She and I dated all through my senior year, never really had any fights, and my parents adored her and hers adored me. We were voted “Most Likely to Stay Together” by the yearbook committee and happily danced in the spotlight as homecoming king and queen... a real shocker since I didn’t play football. Sarah was heart-broken when I decided to move for school. She had known it was my intent, but I think she assumed I would change my mind because we were dating. I had considered staying a time or two, but with the still fresh divorce of my parents and my sister moving away to California for school, I knew I couldn’t stay in small-town America for much longer. After the initial shock wore off, we made the plan together that she would move in with me after she graduated and we would attend college together, live together, and live up to the expectations of the yearbook committee. My job, coupled with free tuition would allow us to get an apartment together and, down the road, we’d both graduate. We’d start a family, be rich and successful, and have a marriage so happy that our grandkids would tell their children about. It was that simple, and it all laid out perfectly. She and I did everything together while we dated. I loved it at the time, but later realized that the friends I had prior to us dating all seemed to have move on. I didn’t have any core friends anymore, she consumed my every waking moment. I don’t think she was trying to cause a falling out, I think she was just so in love with the thought of being in love that she couldn’t let go. Sarah and I were both each other’s first for just about everything. We awkwardly explored our raging teenage hormones not long after we started dating, both trying to build the courage to take things just a little bit further each opportunity we had. I can vividly remember the look on Sarah’s face when she touched my cock for the first time. It was over my shorts, but I could tell she tried to play it off like an accident as her hand slowly rubbed on my thigh. Of course having zero experience and a beautiful girl rub her hands on me caused some tenting to happen rather quickly. She noticed. It was the first touch that shot electricity through my body as we laid cuddled up on the chair in the den of her parents upscale country-chic home, a blanket covering our still-clothed bodies. She moved her hand away quickly at first contact. I could see her face from the corner of my eye, flushed with excitement, very lightly nibbling on her lower lip with nerves. After a few seconds, I felt her hand begin to creep back up. I heard her sigh audibly as she very carefully laid her hand on my now fully erect dick. I could see the faintest smile form on her face as she crossed the hurdle. Both of us were too afraid to do much else, but she did very gently rub for a moment before we heard the garage door open, signaling that our alone time was at an end. From that day on, we both pushed the envelope just a bit more. I took advantage of days she would wear skirts to school and use the ease of access to fondle her anytime we had some privacy. I’m happy to say that I was her first non-self-induced orgasm, right there under that same blanket on that same chair. I can remember hearing her try and stifle her moans, no doubt fearful of waking her parents directly above us in their bedroom. It nearly sent me over the edge as well when she sucked my fingers clean right after. One evening while her parents were out celebrating their anniversary, Sarah excused herself to the restroom in the middle of ‘The Goonies’ and emerged wearing only her baby blue thong and matching bra, her hair tied up with a white lace ribbon. She approached me, my jaw now slack from the beauty I was witnessing, and yanked the blanket from my lap. She settled in on her knees in front of me trying to appear confident and sexy, but I could see her trembling from nerves. I could tell how big of a step this was for her. She pulled my shorts and boxers down, nearly ripping them in the process, and stared wide-eyed at my dick. She never really looked closely at it while using her hands. She would usually play coy and keep watching TV while jerking me off. Now though, she was face to face. I can still see the shimmer from the chapstick on her lips as she very slowly moved her mouth over the head of my cock. She froze once it was in for what felt like an eternity. I could hear her breathing becoming rapid, and for the first time in front of me, I saw her hand move quickly into the waistband of her panties as she touched herself. As she began moving my dick in and out of her mouth, her hand motions became more rapid under the thin baby blue fabric. It wasn’t 3 minutes into the blowjob before Sarah had a massive orgasm, seemingly larger than the ones I could giver her with my own hands or tongue. She pulled her face away, a trail of saliva extending from the head of my cock to her lips and only said ‘fuck’. I believe it was at that very moment that Sarah realized that she had a passionate love for giving head. She attacked my dick after that, like there was nothing else in the world. She didn’t flench when I came, just swallowed and tried to keep going until I pushed her off due to the sensitivity. Things progressed from there. Sarah gave me head every chance she could, preferring to give orgasms rather than receive them. We finally had sex a few weeks after that, in the dark basement bedroom of a friends house. I was disappointed that she didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as I thought she would, opting after maybe 5 minutes to have me pull out and finish in her mouth. We didn’t have sex often, but when we would, it always ended in the same way. Everything in life was perfect, even after I moved… or so I thought. I went home many weekends and we seemed to pick up right where we left off. Everything was perfect. Until Sarah cheated on me, at least. I heard about it from a former classmate still living back home. He said he saw Sarah and some guy in a car together driving in town. He said it was a new looking BMW, a car that isn’t very common in our small town, so he took notice and tried to see who was driving. He didn’t recognize the guy driving, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was her, he got a clear view from the windshield as they passed on the road. He said he turned around to see what was up and after about 5 minutes of following them, he said he saw Sarah sit up tall, then lean her body across the center console of the car. He said he didn’t see her again for about 10 minutes and that the guy started driving pretty erratic during that time, and kept rolling his head around. He followed at a distance and eventually saw her head rise again and they carried on. He followed them until they turned into a restaurant. He circled the block and watched them walk hand-in-hand into the building. He even said she was wearing a little yellow sun dress... I knew it well. She always looked amazing in it. I guess it goes without saying that I felt like I had been stabbed in the chest as I listened to his recanting of the story. I trusted the guy and knew he wouldn’t be saying these things to fuck with me. I quickly got off the phone with him and called her, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again, again right to voicemail. Finally she sent me a text asking what was up. I didn’t know what else to do so I said “Jeremy saw you two together. I’m bummed you never offered to give me road head.” Of course this elicited a call back right away. I was heartbroken, but I did appreciate that she didn’t try and deny anything. She didn’t lie. She said she wasn’t happy anymore and wanted to move on. By this point, I knew what she meant. I had started working third shift already and had a rapid decline in happiness. I was always cranky, always tired. She was right and I hated myself for it. “You’re not you anymore, Adam. You’re sad all of the time... you sleep constantly. You don’t strike up conversations on the phone, and that’s all we have most of the time since we can’t be together.” She had told me as I stared blankly at the wall of my kitchen, tears now flooding my vision. “I’m sorry you found out like this, but I’m glad you found out.” “Yeah, pretty shitty way of you breaking it off though.” I countered. She agreed. That was the last time we spoke. After Sarah ended it, I sunk further into a depressive state. My life revolved solely around work, school, and Netflix in my basement studio apartment. Typically I would wake up around 10 in the morning and catch the campus shuttle to class. The classes were specifically scheduled for employees of the airport, allowing us to work nights and attend school without as much sleep depravation. After class I would usually eat some dinner in the campus cafeteria and do some homework, then report in for my shift. I didn’t mind my job. It was easy compared to the manual labor most people had to do to pay for their tuition. I drove a tug around pulling trailers of packages bound for different planes all night. All... night... long. I could usually start my shift with a conversation with the dock supervisor and not talk to another person for the rest of the night. I was known as ‘Tug 4301’ and drove the exact route from the south dock to the west ramp, spots 1, 3, 5, 7, and 9, then back to the south dock to reload and do it all again. We weren’t allowed to have music, cell phones, audio books, or anything else to help pass the time due to FAA regulations, so I had hours to see the same sights, and have the same thoughts and internal conversations. At around 3 in the morning, I would park my tug back behind the south dock and begin the walk back to the shuttle to campus. From the bus stop, it was a brief walk back to my apartment. By this time, the vast majority of the factory employees had already departed, meaning the bus ride was usually as isolated as the tug. Back in the basement abyss, the daylight blacked out by thick curtains and a “Please do not disturb, I work the graveyard shift!” sign that the previous occupant had left behind, I ended my day with some concoction of frozen meals and another episode of The Office. Occasionally, I would think about Sarah. How her hair seemed to shine as intensely as the sun. How she would nibble gently at my lower lip when she would kiss me. How she would deftly put her hair up in a ponytail and lick her lips before she would push me back towards the bed or chair... or floor and nearly attack my dick. These memories would cease thanks to my self delivered orgasm, and I hate to say it... sometimes I would cry. I would always feel ashamed. By 5am, I would be asleep, waiting for the alarm to signal that it was time to live another instance of Groundhog Day all over again. It was nearly six months into this routine that I decided it was time to get help. I knew I was depressed. I scheduled an appointment with a counselor at school on a Monday morning. I didn’t work Sunday nights, so Monday was usually my ‘live like a normal person’ day, but I knew I was going to keep going down darker and darker paths until there was no return. Fortunately by this time, the nagging memories of Sarah had faded to an occasional jolt of emotion that would strike unprovoked, but would subside after a quick orgasm. “Have you been eating alright, you look really thin...” the counselor said as I sat in the chair across from her. The question reeled in my thousand yard stare. “Umm... probably could eat better, to be honest. I don’t have much of an appetite, really.” I awkwardly responded. I had lost a significant amount of weight in the past few months. At my high school graduation, I was nearly 140lbs. At my last work physical a few days prior, I was down to 116lbs. Even at 5’6”, I was looking too thin for my frame. “Adam, this is pretty serious. I think you need to see a doctor... this may be more than you and I can handle alone. You’ve got me a bit worried.” she said with a concerned look. “Will you do that? Will you promise me that you’ll see one of our doctors?” “Yeah, I guess so. Yeah.” murmured back. “And I want you to promise me, Adam... I want you to promise me that you’ll look after yourself until then. And I want you to promise me that you’ll come back and see me after your appointment. I’m going to schedule it. Okay?” “Yeah, of course.” I said, realizing that she was genuinely worried that I would hurt myself. “I will, I promise.” She smiled at that, and attempted to give me a reassuring pat on my hand. “Maybe you should hang out with some friends until then. Maybe try and have fun... see a movie, bowl, laser tag... try and not be alone if you can help it.” she said as she escorted me to the end of the hallway of the student health center. I smiled as best I could. I hoped it to be warm, but the look on her face told me that she could see right through the facade. The walk back to my apartment seemed colder than usual. I looked around at the other people navigating their way thought the urban campus with their heads slung low to protect from the biting wind and wondered if I was alone in feeling like this, or if there were others near me right now that were struggling just as bad. Maybe if I tried, I would find others like me and we could pick each other up. If I tried... but I really didn’t feel like trying. They probably wouldn’t either. I arrived back to my apartment and sat in bed, turned on Netflix, and opened up my laptop. It wouldn’t hurt to look and see if anyone was out there. Maybe grab lunch with someone, maybe a movie. I decided to check around on some of the school forums and Facebook to see if any groups were meeting soon. I didn’t see any that really caught my interest. I eventually ended up Craigslist thinking maybe there were some groups posting on there. I browsed for a while, nothing piquing my interest. I was about to close out the page when I saw the ‘Personals’ section and decided to browse that avenue as well just for the heck of it. The ‘F for M’ section was pretty sparse, most of the women looking were significantly older, had children, or were blatantly looking for money in exchange for company. While I wasn’t seeing anything that interested me, I was finding some thrill in reading the posts. Some were witty, some funny. Some were so sexually charged that I considered responding for a split second, kids or age be damned. I navigated each section enthralled by how some people were able to put themselves out there so openly, so anonymously vulnerable. I envied their cavalier attitude and only wished I could put myself out there like they did. I kept going down the rabbit hole, page after page, profile after profile. Some of the specifics people were listing were repulsive, but many made me jealous that I didn’t have Sarah to try them with. I wasn’t really prepared for some of the detail I encountered in the ‘M for M’ section, to say the least. I had never really given much thought to gay sex, it was something that went undiscussed in sheltered small-town USA. I didn’t have any issue with gay people, but I honestly didn’t give it much more thought than that. But the level of detail described of the litany of posts from just today... I didn’t have to use my imagination much. I clicked through post after post, caught up in reading the carnal nature of the post, intrigued beyond belief by what I was reading. Most of the posts didn’t talk about love or relationships, they talked about gritty sex. They talked about gang bangs and blow-and-gos. Anonymous mouths for anonymous dicks. It was enthralling. “Loving but Firm Professional seeking Young, Inexperienced to Nurture and Teach” the title read as I scrolled down the list, measured now by minutes scrolling rather than pages. It was lost in the sea of others, but it stood out to me for some reason. I clicked the link and stared intently as the screen flickered from the main page to the posting. “Hi, thanks for reading. I’m a 38 year old legal professional looking for a young boy between 18 and 22 to teach about sexual desire. Ideal candidate is slim and naturally submissive to power, and completely inexperienced with men. I want a boy I can build from the ground up. Must have an open mind. Message me if you think this is you, you’ll know right away if it is.” Fuck. I don’t know what came over me at that moment, but my heart began to race, my hands became sweaty, and my lips dry. I read and reread the post multiple times, each time exciting me more. It was as if instinct required that I replied. I straightened myself up in bed and began to search my laptop for a face picture that was generic enough to be lost in a crowd. I didn’t want this guy recognize me right away, just in case. I found a full body picture from earlier in the fall at a Halloween party back home. I didn’t dress up, but I thought I looked decent, and the ball cap I was wearing at the time obstructed part of my face. “Hello. I’m not gay, so I’m not sure why I’m replying to be honest. I've never been with a guy. I'm 18, a freshman in college. Something about your post. It struck me. I don’t even know what else to write. You don't have to write back if you don't want or if I don't fit what you say you're looking for." Attachment: 1” My heart was frantically beating in my chest as I hit send from my spam collecting Yahoo Mail account. I had felt more alive in these few minutes than I can remember feeling since moving to the city. I stared at the inbox, nearly expecting an immediate rejection reply or an email from someone back home saying they were cat-fishing and happened to reel me in. I stared at the screen for at least five minutes, barely breathing before setting the laptop down and getting up to use the restroom and grab a drink. I nearly dove across the room when I heard the ‘Ding’ signifying a new email. “Save 15% or more on car insurance with Geico”. Damn it. What the hell was I doing. I’m not gay. I’ve literally never even thought about it until 10 minutes ago, and now I’m so worked up to get the attention of someone writing on a public forum. I closed the laptop and walked over to the chair to focus in on Season 4 of The Office... yet again. Sipping on the Diet Coke and watching Dwight be Dwight and Jim be Jim, the urge to check again struck me. It had been some time, surely enough for some sort of response. I retyped the password into the Yahoo Mail page and saw the familiar ’Inbox (1)’ notification staring me in the face. I clicked, and went weak as the page opened. There it was. “Re: Seeking” I took a deep breath and clicked on the email that loaded painfully slow. “Hello. Thanks for writing. I know you. Don’t worry, not you specifically (although hard to tell with the photo so far away). I know your type though. I'm willing to bet that you just happed to stumble upon my message without really going out and looking for it. I have a feeling this is so new to you that you've really got very little desire in actually meeting anyone. If you are serious about at least meeting up and discussing more, send me a better picture. -Steve” With a slight smirk on my face, and my heart back to racing, I opened Facebook to find a better picture to send. I selected one from a family vacation in Hawaii. I had shaggy, dirty blonde hair and was standing shirtless in front of a waterfall on the Napali Coast. I was bronzed by the sun, and a smile beaming on my face. A tinge of pain hit me as I looked at the picture, I was standing there with Sarah. Her beautiful face staring up at me, a smirk affixed to her full lips, and her gorgeous body clad in a small red bikini. I drew in a deep breath and downloaded the photo to my desktop and cropped Sarah’s face and body out of the picture until only myself and the waterfall remained. “As requested. -Adam Attachment: 1” Sent. I felt as if I were going to vomit at that point. If this were a rouse, I was surely busted. It was clearly me in the photo, no mistaking that. A screencap of the conversation with my picture plastered there was surely enough to ruin any chance I had at a happy life, if malice were intended. Ding. Inbox (1) “Re: re: re: Seeking” “You’re perfect, baby. Perfect in every way. You are exactly what I was hoping you would be. My name is Steve. I’ve been pretty clear with what I’m really looking for, so I hope that you’ll understand when I say that I’m not interested in games and flaking out on meetings, etc. If you really are interested, and if you really are willing, I want to meet you face to face. Send me your phone number if you want to keep going. Attachment: 1” I double clicked the attachment, fearful that what I had conjured up in my mind would be a far stray from reality. The painfully slow wi-fi struggled to open the picture, but when it did, I was stunned. He was so handsome. Large, for sure. Not fat at all, but he had to be at least 6’6” judging by the SUV that he towered over. He had a stern smile and an intense gaze at the camera... it felt as if he took the picture specifically for me. His hair, his suit... he was the personification of masculine. I struggled to figure out how only a few hours ago I was numb and seemingly entirely heterosexual, and now I was lusting over a man. A dominant man... and I wanted it to happen so bad. I did everything I could for the next few hours to distract myself from the email. I had to be at work tonight, so no phone, no email. I knew if I wanted to go through with this, I would need to decide well before then. He was very insistent that the only content in the reply be my phone number. What if I sent it and he called while I was working? What if he began texting me with times and locations and I was unable to reply? I knew I had to decide now. Being the decisive and confident guy I am, I flipped a coin. Okay... heads, I send my phone number. Tails... I don’t. Simple. Leave it up to fate. With a deep breath, I flipped the coin into the air. Heads. “I’m serious: 555-776-2323 -Adam”

Hello All, This will be my first story posted. Long time lurker, abdl, switch, daddy, yada yada. I'm open to critics and I'll change when I can (hehe) but for the most part I'm happy with what I've wrote. I'm already 20,000 words and 15 chapters into this story. I'll be posting (hopefully) every Monday and Friday with a new chapter. If this gets enough love I might do some spin offs and one shots. Let me know. (Cover art by DiaperedPrince) Chapter 1: I See You’re Finally Awake The dim room that greeted Ava’s eyes was not a welcome one for the little. Pastels walls, and pastel furniture, and pastel clothes, and pastel toys, all lay beyond pure white bars. A few locks of soft brown hair were quickly shaken aside to get an unobscured look at the soft blues and pinks that dominated her vision. “Better to be awake before the bitch gets up and ruins what few moments alone I have.” She said to herself, or would have if she hadn’t forgot about the rubber gag dominating her mouth. Sure, call it a pacifier, but normally pacifiers don’t have straps that run behind the head of their victims. The feelings she slowly regained consciousness of weren’t any better than the view. Most people would appreciate soft pajamas and a firm clean mattress. Ava could feel the soft fabric start at her upper neck, run down her body and split off to her arms and legs. Once you got to her feet and hands, however, you would find firm leather cuffs keeping her appendages spread apart. She didn’t even know why Mommy (Yes mommy as the woman formerly referred to as “the bitch” demanded she be called) would put these cuffs on her. The end of the sleeves had soft but firm perfectly round mittens that meant she couldn’t pick up anything, and the wedge in her similarly round booties prevented her from walking for more than a few steps before tottering down on her padded posterior. Another indignity, and in Ava’s mind the worst of it, was the ridiculously thick diaper strapped to her heiny. Ava had changed a diaper or two when she had to babysit back in her world, but never had she ever thought, “Let’s put enough padding on this tyke that they won’t be able to sit up straight.” “They treat me like some kind of BDSM toddler!” The mumbling was met with equally frustrated thrashing. That did it. If she did hear the fucking diaper crinkling she definatly heard this stupid protective mattress cover. Why does she even have that??? Not like I’m gonna leak out of this pillow she calls a diaper. Tears welled up in her eyes before she quickly shook it off, causing even more infuriating russelling beneath her. Tears were a week one Ava thing, maybe a sometimes thing on week two, but this was week three Ava who had convinced herself to be strong. She didn’t care what happened to her. Those spankings weren’t so bad (so long as the old bitty didn’t use the hairbrush), and the soap wasn’t so bad considering the mush she had to eat for food (the one time the grey haired demon, formally known as Mommy, had mentioned she could no longer breastfeed Ava nearly vomited), and the enema was………. not something Ava was keen on thinking about. Trying to ignore the memory, Ava did a quick roll from side to side. Thick, powder filled, cream coated diaper rustled as it hugged her most sensitive area. Heh. Guess the hypnotic cartoons she forced me to watch didn’t do the trick. I’m still dry mothafucka!!!! Guess I’m made of better stock than you thought. If the shield of her pacifier wasn’t so big, you might have been able to see a smile creep up on her face before being quickly wiped away. Yesterday Mommy had been so excited to strap her little lamb into a bouncy prison in front of the cinema sized T.V. before putting in some kind of chip into a box with a click and a message on the screen saying, “Removable drive accepted. Play video?” The nearly 12 foot tall elderly woman smiled down in complete adoration of the 5’3’’ baby girl, “You’ll love this, baby. I know most parents would have introduced you to all kinds of cartoon friends by now, but I was hoping you’d relax a bit more on your own.” She turned her body towards the screen before clicking a button on her remote. The woodland creatures that instantly popped on the screen were not the typical kind of entertainment the 25 year old college student was used to, but she was quickly finding the appeal. The way they danced on the screen was incredibly funny and their snarky jokes could rival the best comedians.” Back in her immediate surroundings Ava was shaken by her memories of the previous day by a familiar but unwelcome feeling in her lower gut. After the first week with no “presents” for her Mommy she was given the much dreaded enema. Ava shuddered at the phantom feeling of water and soap filling up her bottom. What she thought would be a quick and painless process was filled with more tears than she would openly admit. Mommy had rubbed her bloated stomach and pat her puffy bottom sending vibrations to the plug holding back the deluge of waste and water. Mommy wanted her thoroughly cleaned out, and if Ava had learned anything at that point was that Mommy got what Mommy wants. She had been much more compliant after that. The constant escape attempts had momentarily stopped, the strings of profanity were nowhere to be found, and her diapers were now daily filled with her own organic mudslides. Oatmeal coming in and its smelly, brown version coming out made here feel like the infant the elderly woman claimed her to be. Even now Ava was weighing her options. Would she debase herself and give in to the cramps down below, or would she hold out until the last second before a change. The less time she spent smelling of poop and baby powder was a win, but Mommy might think her little one was holding it in again and spend some more time getting her naughtiness washed out. The threat was enough for her to just lighten her clenched cheeks for just a second before they snapped back shut. I’ll wait until she comes in at least. No reason to spend any more time covered in shit than absolutely necessary. She won’t know the difference anyway. And so her master plan to keep her pants clean as long as possible commenced. Butt clenched, appendages spread far apart, nether regions swaddled in immense padding, body covered in soft fleece, and pacifier softly bobbing in and out while the room was covered in the dim light of a teddy bear night light.

Well all, this is my first public attempt at writing a story. It will be quite long, and I have to apologize about the fact that this first part is quite long and may be boring....it's mostly setting up characters and the plot. Backstory is hugely important to me. I will gladly accept constructive criticism, especially from other writers, so please help me finish this. If the reaction is just plain "This sucks" I'll probably never finish it, fair warning lol. With that said, here we go. ____________________________________________ Will Jackson was not your average guy. If his parents had bothered to test him when he was a child, it is very likely that he would have been diagnosed with something. He just saw the world in a very different way, never really understadning other people. Needless to say, Will's parents never had him tested. As hard as it is to believe, they were a blend of WASPy lower class folks. Meaning, of course, that Will had to work very hard to maintain the ideal picture his parents had painted him into. Insanely intelligent, but lacking the emotional understanding of the world people around him had, Will embraced the concept of "Fake it til you make it". He was bullied for being different, and he always felt alone. Many nights he would silently sob as he wondered if anyone would ever really care to know him, to understand him in a way that would make him feel accepted, but he managed to grow into a very capable young man. Not that he understood people better, but he was successful at work and had learned all the right things to say to make people think he was "well adjusted". And then Will met Emily. With a massive smile, the kindest green eyes, and a personality that made veryone around her feel like they were completely loved and accepted, she stole his heart immediately. Not the small, "hot" girl that she thought all the men wanted, Emily went through life completely unaware of how most men viewed her, through that undefinable gaze that is a mixture of lust and worship. She had grown up in a family of athletes. While she had always played sports, and stayed physically active, those who should have supported her unconditionally continued to point out her weight. Sure, she was an even 6 feet tall, but you could lose some more weight if you were really trying, they assured her. She never once felt confident in her looks, sure the men who asked her home were just using her for sex. Theirs was a whirlwind affair that no one understood. The general consensus was that Emily could have done so much better. Even will thought so. He would constantly tell her that he was just happy to have her, and would do anything to keep her happy. And believe it or not, that's where their problems all started. ________________________________________________________________________ Through their marriage, Emily and Will developed the routines that married people always do. He made sure that she always knew how amazing she was, even pointing out the men around her who couldn't keep their eyes off of her, much to his consternation. It wasn't an immediate revelation, but one of those slow things that seem to seep into your life, that her confidence increased. She credited him for all of it, and never once did anything more than laugh at the advances of other men, telling her she had the perfect one already. Emily gave Will what he had always wanted, someone who really saw him. Who didn't take offense to his questions which to most sounded sarcastic, but were truly honest. She saw the depths of him, the entrenched pain and emotion he had no way to relieve before her. Their life, like any life, was far from ideal. They would fight, they would upset each other, they would occasionally say cruel or thoughtless things to each other. But they always came together, and their marriage grew and flourished into one of those that others secretly envied. And as is usually the case, the happy couple was oblivious, giving very little thought to anything outside their world. Each year it had become a tradition that, on their anniversary, they would share some detail about themselves that the other person had never known. These ranged big to small, some secret that no one else in the world knew, like favorite childhood toys, or a secret sexual fetish they had never tried but wanted to (Emily wanted to try pegging; Will wanted her to wear a sexy maid outfit). Things that no one else in the world knew. Oh sure, there were gifts given, but those small pieces of each others souls were the true treasure. They always shared a similar secret. The night Emily told Will about the man who had forced himself on her, Will shared the abuse suffered from his parents. These things bound them together. As they approached their 15th year, Emily could tell something was off with Will. He was moody, in his way, usually lashing out at random people in anger. While coping with his problems was always stressful to him, she could tell that something different was going on. He usually worked all day, came home at night and talked to her, before he would cook her a nice meal and clean the house. She felt bad about how much he did for her, but he always seemed to get even more moody if she tried to help around the house. Oh sure, he would tell her how proud he was, and thankful, but she knew him well enough to see the strange sight of longing and hurt when he came home and there were no dishes to do. But now he was coming home and not spending their time together, that precious hour that theu spent together talking about their day. Will knew this was it. It was finally time to let go of his biggest secret. He'd harbored it his whole life, never acting on any of it. Hearing his parents voice the whole time, "this is not how we act. Grow up! Why can't you just be norma?!" But Emily deserved the truth. She deserved to understand the man (ha!) she had married, and he wasn't sure it wouldn't emd everything. Oh, he could keep on as he was, hiding this last morsel of himself from the woman who had come to mean everything to him, and he could even be happy. He was happy, which he felt was all he really needed. Just that alone was more than he ever expected to have. But Emily deserved it. As their anniversary morning came, Emily woke Will with a big kiss, like every other morning. "I can't wait until tonight" she told him, and was shocked to see panic cross his face as he replied "me too". There was definitely something off, but she would wait. If he didn't come out with it, she would! ________________________________________________ Will just couldn't focus all day. Everything he did, he seemed to screw up. It was so bad that his boss James finally called him into the office. "Will buddy, what the hell is going on with you today?" he asked. "Oh nothing much" will replied distractedly. "Cut the crap. You're my best guy on most days, but the last two weeks you've acted like a damn intern. Cut the crap and tell me what's going on now man". There was a moment of contemplation, that wierd tic that set some people off. While James maintained his professionalism, he pretty much thought of Will as one of his favorite people. The man never spoke without knowing what he wanted to say, and he never misled anyone. If a project was behind, Will came in with all the information; how far behind they were, what happened, and what it would take to get back on track, while others would try to hide any errors. Oh, you could never let him talk to a customer, he would run them out the door in seconds, but if you wanted something done, and done right, just hand it to Will and get out fo his way. "Well, it's my anniversary tonight, and I kind of have a gift for my wife. It's big but I'm not sure she'll like it, and it's kind of worrying me" Will said, as internally he wondered if it wouldn't be the end of his marriage with a dry laugh. "For drying out loud Will, is that all it is? That woman worships the ground ou walk on man. What'd you get her?" "Uh, it's kinda private..." he replied. "I get it buddy. Kinky, huh?" James laughed."Well how about this, it's Tuesday. Why don't you take the rest of the week off and make sure she likes it. My treat buddy. You've got so much time saved up, and you're between projects, so just take the week and show her a good time" James laughed. "That might be great actually" Will replied. No need to mention he might be homeless by the end of the day. "Well that settles it. Take the time, you've more than earned it. Give Emily my best." ______________________ As he walked into the house, Will could see the love of his life curled up on the porch, drinking coffee and reading. It was time to rip the band aid off, and face his new life. "Hey there sexy!" she smiled up as he leaned down for a kiss. "You're home early." "Yep, and I've got the rest of the week off to spend with you," he told her as she squealed in delight. Time with Will was the best thing ever. "Oh that's so awesome! It's gonna be amazing!" They had no need to discuss plans, their perfect day was just reading together. Being near each other seemed to be a salve to them. Will smiled, but Emily was fed up with the crap. "Will, what's wrong? You aren't yourself lately, and it's scaring me. You seem so sad, and I have no idea what it's about. Please talk to me?" she begged. She knew he needed to tell her in his own time, but she was tired of waiting. They had been through so much together, why was he just now acting like he was? "Right. I guess it's time. Are you ready for your anniversary present?" he asked her, seeing the confusion on her face. They usually both loved this tradition, it brought tears sometimes for sure, but they had always strived to know each other completely. "Of course I am! What did you get me this year?" she playfully asked. This was their thing. Another small tidbit of insight into the man who had become a part of herself. "What's that look for?" she asked when she noticed the grim shadow on his face. "Emily, I only have one more deep secret to share. I love you, and I need you to know before I tell you that you mean more to me than anything else" he said as her eyes grew wider, bordering on alarm. "What is it? You're scaring me...." she whispered. She'd never seen this look on his face and she found she hated it. "It's just something that I've hidden my whole life, andI want you to know I don't expect you to accept it. I've kept it hidden this long, and I don't need to indulge it now, but it's a part of me, and you deserve to know all of me." "Will, please, what is it?" she asked, just hoping to wipe the dejected look off his face. A version of the look he got when he admitted the disgust his parents felt in him, but worse; she could read that the disgust came from himself. With a final sigh, Will cut the last string from his old world. "I'm an adult baby."

Hiya everyone I'm new here! I really wanna start meeting people in the local community I know there must be a lot of us out here. I'm a 24 (5) year old bi AB/DL. I'm cute and cuddly and I'd love to have someone to share stories with. I'm down to just be friends but I would definitely love to find someone to love