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Hey guys. So I wrote this story a few months back, and spent some time editing it to make it as perfect as possible. This story follows a recollection of memories as told by the parents of Sam, who grew up with a particularly interesting "friend". I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll update chapters every few days. __________ Chapter 1: A New Home and New Friend

Stevie’s Story Part 1 Stevie hated to travel. He hated it because ever since he was a baby his father had insisted that whenever they went anywhere, by car, bus, train or plane; he and later his sister always had to be put into protection for the trip. * He’d tried when he was five to rebel against this unjust rule but, when he’d found himself bare arsed over his daddy’s knee and getting a sound spanking and afterwards still being made to wear diapers and plastic pants over his stinging bottom, he saw the error of arguing against an adult. Even now, though resentment coursed through his thirteen year-old body, he knew better than to defy his father. Just one look from his uncompromising face made sure that he did just as daddy said. His six year-old sister Eva never argued, she just did as she was told and put up with the bulky protection that accompanied them on any journey. His mother supervised they were both wearing the prescribed clothing for any trip as it was simply one of her husband’s golden rules. She understood why he was so insistent on this particular ‘rule’, she didn’t see it as anything but a sensible precaution so was more than happy to go along with his few quirks and foibles, after all, he was a wonderful, generous, loving husband and father. Stevie’s daddy Thomas wasn’t a bad daddy. At forty he was at his peak; six foot two, clear complexion (he was often mistaken for a lot younger), a slim but solid figure of which any athlete would be proud, his brown hair cut short and on top of all that his business was doing well. In many ways he was perfect but it seemed that on this one issue, ‘kids travel’, he was a tyrant and unbending in his insistence on them being fully protected for the journey. It had been something he’d been made to adopt when he was a child, well up into his teens after which his parents announced he was old enough to be well aware of his own toilet needs. He himself had rebelled at the idea of wearing diapers on any journey but was often reduced to being seen as a ‘silly little boy’ when he’d arrive at the destination and realise that he was in fact soaked through; the protection doing its job and saving him from an embarrassing puddle. Indeed, the ‘puddle’ predicament had been what started this generational ruling for overly protective padding. * Steve’s granddaddy, Thomas’s father, had made it a rule after his six year-old ‘big boy’ son had fallen asleep and left a huge puddle on the car seat during a long drive. That damp patch was never really forgiven and to reinforce that memory, the young Thomas had to wear a diaper on any such future outings. It was only when he went off to college that the diapering stopped being insisted upon by his father. However, the long bus trip from home to college had consequences. During the journey Thomas had fallen asleep only to wake up to find he was severely wet. The embarrassment of the spreading damp patch and soaked seat meant there was nothing he could do to hide what had happened. However, at that moment he wished above anything else that he’d listened to his father and taken the precaution of a thick diaper “Just to be on the safe side”. He’d mocked his father’s advice, mocked the very idea of these days (or any other) needing any sort of protection at his age, yet now he was feeling the shame of wet pants and the folly of ridiculing his father’s wise suggestion. His fellow newbie’s to the college had noticed the very discernible damp patch and from that moment on Thomas garnered the nickname of “Peepants”, a sobriquet that followed him throughout his college years. It didn’t help that the first and second night in the dorm he also wet the bed but managed to smuggle the evidence out before his roomie was aware. After that he wore protection every night until he was sure that no more accidents would occur. However, he wet often in those first few months and was glad he could hide the fact by being well protected on a night. He was very embarrassed about what had happened but decided that prevention was more instant than trying to find a cure and knew he’d be more self-conscious if he continued to wet and the nickname was to become engraved in stone. At least if they didn’t know what he did (or didn’t do) he could laugh off their jibes and pretend it had been a one-off experience. However, that embarrassment became such an imprint on his mind he didn’t ever want to be in such a shameful situation again. So deep was his anxiety for wetting in any situation it became an obsession so that when his own children came along they were paying for that fear and humiliation even though they didn’t know it. * Of course young Stevie knew nothing of this and simply resented having to wear such thick diapers. He’d only recently become a teenager so thought that like his peers, he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted. So far his cute looks and blond hair (from his mother’s side of the family) for some reason meant at school he could get away with almost anything, although at home his daddy would see through any deception and his big blue eyes were of no help. If he even looked like he was going to complain his father simply made him wear them for longer. Moaning and whining also produced the same penalty - the wearing of diapers and plastic pants throughout their stay - where ever that may be. The only time the dress code was relaxed was if they went to the beach or to a pool and then bathing costumes were allowed. However, as soon as that finished, or if there had been any whingeing, it was back to re-diapering, in public if there was nowhere else to change. This punishment was available but rarely enforced because over the years both their children had learned the consequences of insubordination. Besides, they weren’t spoilt or naughty little brats constantly in need of chastising; they were, for the most part, well behaved children of which any parent would be proud. Normally, as soon as they reached their destination both were then allowed back into their usual underwear. That was until Stevie got in to a quarrel about the fact that his diaper was too bulky and obvious and everyone knew what he was wearing. Not only did he argue with his mother about its size he shouted and swore at her for making him into a ‘sissy little baby’. This reaction had happened because they’d stopped at a services station on their way to their seaside destination. There were only a couple more hours to go but as both Stevie and Eva had said they urgently needed the bathroom Thomas had pulled onto the forecourt and let them out. Stevie was old enough to be able to sort himself out, whereas Eva needed her mother’s help. Meanwhile, father went and bought a few snacks for the rest of the journey and filled the car up with fuel. His mother was shocked at such an outburst. Although she wasn’t to know that it had been brought about by something another boy had taunted whilst Stevie was visiting the restroom. Although the reason for the protection was to contain any ‘accidents’ the children weren’t made to use them. If they could make it to the bathroom all the better, alas on this particular occasion his protection had been seen and ridiculed. The other boy, who was slightly older than Stevie laughed, pointed and couldn’t wait to tell his friends what he’d just seen. Stevie felt the humiliation grow as he struggled, after he’d peed successfully, to rearrange the obvious bulk in his shorts but as the boy sniggered contemptuously, unfortunately for Stevie that shame transformed into tears. The other boy couldn’t believe his luck and took great delight in teasing and calling him a “Sissy little baby who needed to go poo-poo in his little diapee”. * Alas, Stevie wasn’t equipped to deal with this verbal assault and simply wasn’t a match for such a self-confident bully so all he could do was cry and run from the vicious taunting. However, on his return to his mother, the torment had become too much, so had the exasperation of his situation so, with the bully’s words echoing in his head, he let loose a stream of anger towards her. His sister and mother both looked at Stevie in shock. Never had he used such words and never had he been so disrespectful to his mother, worse though was that his father overheard his vitriolic attack and decided to act there and then. Not caring who was around his daddy grabbed him by the arm and without so much as a word of warning, pulled his son’s shorts and protection down and spanked him hard in public. Amongst others, the young bully and his friends witnessed the spectacle and although part of them felt sorry for the poor guy, another part thought it was what a diaper-wearing cry-baby deserved, they were just thankful they were not on the receiving end of the very hard thrashing. Stevie’s little bottom glowed before his father stopped. Once he did he pulled up his sons diaper but wouldn’t let him have his shorts and told him to get in the car. The spectators, who had witnessed both the boy’s outburst and its consequences, were mumbling support and disgust in equal amounts at what had just happened then moved off and left the family to sort out their own domestic situation. Stevie, wearing only his diaper, sat in the car bawling his eyes out, his father, who had calmed down a bit was trying to appease his wife who thought that the punishment had gone too far. However, Thomas would have none of it and explained that if he didn’t nip such bad behaviour in the bud now, who knew where it could all end. He simply was not prepared to have a son who disrespected his parents, or anyone else for that matter, no, that type of behaviour would not be tolerated. * Stevie had made a bad situation worse and through his tear-stained eyes understood he’d done wrong attacking his mother in front of everybody. However, he thought his father’s response had been very cruel. There was a mixture of feelings running through his body, defiance and sorrow, but it was sorrow that was winning because his bottom stung as he sat trying desperately not to wriggle about in the diaper. Strangely enough, as he did, it was offering some sort of comfort but he just couldn’t stop crying at what he thought had been a gross injustice. Unfortunately for Stevie his timing could not have been worse. They had not been far from their destination and his mother was just about to relieve him and his sister of their diapers in preparation to the start of what was expected to be an enjoyable vacation. Alas, Stevie watched as his sister was changed out of her protection and put into her sweet flowery nylon panties, and all he could do was sit there dressed solely in his diaper feeling angry, humiliated, sore and hard done by. Dejected and humiliated his tears started again as they drove off whilst his constant bleating to his parents that it wasn’t fair that his sister was allowed out of her protection while he, her older brother, had to stay in his, made it more or less certain he would be wearing a diaper for the rest of their trip. His father warned him that if there was any further complaining not only would he be wearing diapers for the rest of the holiday, that’s all he’d be wearing. This news set him off on another round of tears but this time he didn’t voice his distress he just blubbed to himself and tried to hide away from the rest of the family. * That’s difficult when you’re sat in the rear seat of a family car. Eva was sitting next to him proudly wearing her grown-up panties under her dress and she kept looking across at her brother as he struggled to feel comfortable in just his diaper. She tried her best to get her brother to join in a game, or read her a story but he sat grumpily, arms folded and seething. Like the rest of the family Eva was pretty and cute. Indeed when out together the entire family looked like they’d just stepped off the cover of some fashion magazine. Even when they dressed casually they looked the part of models ready to go about their posing and little Eva just set the family package off to a T with her curly blond hair, pixie-like looks and sweet demeanour. However, at that moment at least one of the models was not happy: Stevie didn’t even have plastic pants to try and hide the soft mass that was, despite his anger and frustration, keeping him snug and his bottom away from the firm seat adding to his pain. For a second he plotted some kind of revenge. He thought he’d teach his father a lesson and wet himself on purpose… thus soaking the seat. Well, that was the way his mind was thinking. Sadly, that little scheme wouldn’t work even if he’d had the guts to try it as he’d just emptied his bladder at the gas station. So, even if he could force something out, it would hardly have dampened his diaper never mind leave a mess. He was thwarted and sat squirming around, this action comforted and settled him down, which soon saw him dozing quietly for the remainder of the journey. * When they arrived at the hotel Stevie was in for another surprise, he had wet himself. He wasn’t soaked through but he was undoubtedly wet and that inhibited him from getting out of the car. He was worried what his father would say, he was worried that others would see his drooping diaper and he was totally embarrassed that his father had been correct about him wearing a diaper to avert this type of accident. He simply didn’t want to get out of the car but the threat of another public spanking made him swallow any pride he had and follow the rest of the family into the hotel lobby. His mother had promised that she’d change him as soon as they got to their room but until then, he’d simply have to make do. He dare not look at any of the other vacationers who were milling around the huge hotel foyer. To Stevie there seemed to be hundreds of people, kids and adults, all looking at him and his very droopy diaper. He tried to hide behind his case but, as it was on wheels and too heavy to carry, he had to drag behind him. This offered too good an opportunity to some of the kids who noticed and were noisily indicating the fact to others while laughing at the new arrival. It looked quite bizarre as they booked in and got the key to their room that the little girl was dressed normally but her older brother appeared to be the baby of the family. I’m sure many of the children who witnessed this spectacle had made up their own minds but the adults would have known that the boy in diapers was being punished for some reason. It was true that a few of the parents wondered how effective such a punishment might be and wanted to talk to Stevie’s parents to find out; no doubt thinking that they might use it on their own unruly kids. Little did the boys that were hooting with derision at Stevie know that their own day of reckoning was not that far off. * To be continued

Never More Content - Part 1 Rob had been with Doctor Mark Thompson now for around 19 months. It was a relationship that, at the beginning, neither could have foreseen the outcome. However, Rob has never been happier; his days are now filled with fun, adventure and that rarest of gifts… love. For these last few months he had learned that he didn’t have to fight for everything, he didn’t have to worry about anything and, in fact, he didn’t have to think at all, Daddy would see to his every need. Rob was only 14 when he tried to mug the rich-looking man who was getting out of his BMW. His stomach was empty and he was desperate because for the last few weeks he had been living rough on the streets. He’d had to learn how to survive quickly since he ‘left’ home and he wasn’t doing too well. Opportunities to find food, shelter and safety weren’t as easy to come by as he had hoped they would be. In fact, he hadn’t had a decent meal or a place to stay since he’d slammed the door and swore at that drunken bitch… his mother. Recently, his home life had deteriorated badly, he’d been expelled from school because of his mounting violent streak, he fought against any form of authority, he hated the world and everyone in it and he needed to get OUT. However, living rough was even worse. When he wasn’t being offered drugs, he was the victim of those desperate drug addicts who saw him as an easy target. He carried the cuts and bruises to prove it as he was no match against the rougher element he met. His stomach ached with hunger and he urgently needed to get some money and this smart, swanky, well-to-do guy appeared to have loads. In the past he'd begged for money but people either took no notice, as if he didn’t exist or worse, screamed abuse at him for daring to ask for help. The only way he’d found effective was to threaten, then he was listened to and the sharp 8” blade he now carried certainly got most people’s attention. He waved it at the BMW owner and demanded money but his threat was swiftly countered by a speedy kick from the man that sent the knife spinning through the air and a follow up kick to the would-be mugger’s head that knocked him to the ground. It all happened so fast that Rob didn’t know what hit him until he regained consciousness… then things really began to get weird. Forty year-old Mark Thompson is a man who knows what he wants. He left school and university with an armful of top class awards, flourished quickly in his specialised field and found the demanding intensity of his martial arts programme the perfect way to relax, keep fit and stay alert. In the dark he hadn’t realised the age of his assailant, all he saw was a body rushing towards him and a fleeting glimpse of a steely pointed object being jabbed in his direction. His training took over and in a nanosecond the would-be assassin was dropped to the ground unconscious. As he checked the prone body he realised that the youth lying at his feet was in need of some treatment. He reached down and easily picked up the grubby, thin urchin and carried him to his apartment just a few yards away. The boy was filthy. His clothes were torn and tattered whilst the bruises and cuts on his hands and face made Mark wonder what the poor little guy had been through recently (apart from a kick to the head that is). He got the lad into his home and started to inspect the comatose body now he had light to see just what his injuries were. He removed the lad’s thin jacket and t-shirt and saw that there was a very bad, festering cut on his arm that appeared to have gone untreated for some time. He removed the boy’s trainers and jeans and saw that he was just a mass of bruises and, strangely perhaps, he felt sorry for his would-be mugger. The boy was still out for the count so Mark called a friend of his who was a doctor and asked him to come around and check the boy out. He arrived minutes later from an apartment in the same block just as Mark had finished trying to wipe as much grime away as possible and the lad was beginning to regain consciousness. Although not fully compos mentis Rob realised that something was going on and he was being touched… so he lashed out. Although there was hardly any force to the blow he managed to cuff the doctor at the side of his head and was about to throw another punch when Mark grabbed his arms and pinned him down. Despite being naked and having little strength he tried to fight back and break away from his captives. Alas, he was no match for them and a quick injection from the doctor calmed him down and he drifted off into unconsciousness again. Once he’d gotten over the brief commotion Paul, the doctor, carried out his examination and treated the bruises and cuts on the pale thin body as best he could. His diagnosis was more malnutrition than any great injury but recommended that the large cut on the boy’s arm was kept under scrutiny for any infection. He gave the boy various injections that would help him recover and suggested that Paul feed the lad up before letting him go… or call the police… or do whatever he was going to do with his young attacker. “He’ll be out for about 12 hours,” the doctor informed Mark. “So, is there anything else… or can I get back to Little Liam? I left him sitting in front of the TV watching the Cartoon Channel.” He saw Mark’s raised eyebrows, “Yes again,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders, “it’s his favourite.” Before he left Mark asked Paul to check to see if the lad had been sexually abused. Paul checked the boy’s anus and said that it was inflamed and torn and he reckoned that the lad must have been the subject of a vicious attack, and had probably been raped… and perhaps more than once was his diagnosis. Mark sighed “Poor little fellow.” Mark looked down at the lad once more and began to wonder what had driven this sorry looking soul to this point. He was even worried that if he threw him out and back onto the streets, the boy would be an easy victim of some unscrupulous druggies or bullies. He wondered what he could do to help; after all, he was a trained (and rather expensive) behavioural psychologist, perhaps he could help sort the lad out. As he speculated he suddenly became aware of a strong aroma and gathered that the boy had just urinated onto his leather sofa. He quickly grabbed the nearest thing to hand to mop it up, which led to the lad’s thin t-shirt, pants and jeans soon soaked with stinking piss. Rob was unaware of what had happened as Mark took these smelly objects and tossed them into the washing machine. Then he realised he couldn’t leave the lad naked so went off to find something to cover him with. Mindful that he needed to protect his sofa from any further accidents he found a large towel and some safety pins. Returning to the sleeping boy he fitted it like a diaper around the lad’s waist. Whilst pulling the towel up between the lad’s legs and fastening it tightly a sudden shiver ran down Mark’s spine. He caught his breath at this moment of recognition. His mind catapulted him back to the last time he’d done this - it was during his final exams in his last year of senior school. A huge trauma had recently affected Mark and he remembered waking up some mornings to find he’d unconsciously wet the bed. The trauma had been the dramatic death of his father in an explosion at the chemical plant where he worked, which had killed 17 others and had devastating consequences to all concerned. Finding he’d wet the bed at his age was another upset he found difficult to deal with and although he and his mother were very close, he didn’t want to burden her at this time with what he saw as a ‘stupid childish’ problem. Each night he’d diaper himself with a towel just in case he wet again and every morning he’d wake to find it soaked but on the plus side… at least the bed and bedding were reasonably dry. The pressure of exams and the death of his loving father, who had encouraged him to do well and to work hard, had ultimately had a distressing effect. He wanted his dad to be proud of him so worked exceptionally hard to pass his exams. The hours he put in to revision, the empty loss he felt inside, the sadness he could only imagine his mother was going through, all just built and built until it found some kind of release. It was just over a week that he’d been diapering himself when his mom found out. It was early one Monday morning when she entered his bedroom to wake him and found him sat on the edge of his bed in the soaked makeshift diaper. His youthful looks were etched with anguish as he shrugged not even trying to hide his obvious shame. She hugged her bed-wetting son and told him that he shouldn’t have to carry that worry on his own as she was there for him… for anything… and everything. Between them they would meet head on and solve any problem that came up. They had always been close and, like when his dad was alive, there were few secrets in this loving family. He was relieved that he didn’t have to pretend to her anymore and, as she sat beside him, both cried in their mutual sorrow. Once the tears were almost dried up she asked if he needed any help with his diapers. Apart from the soggy one, which at that moment was hanging heavily between his legs, he wasn’t sure what she meant. He gave a side-long look at his sympathetic mother and asked if she was offering to change him. She giggled, relieving what could have been a tense situation, and put her hand to her mouth as if she’d said something really stupid. They both laughed. “If I thought you needed it, of course I would, but you seem to be coping OK.” She looked into his eyes reassuringly. “But,” and she looked down at the sagging diaper, “don’t forget the other things… you don’t want to be getting a diaper rash at your age.” She paused to check he was still OK with what she was saying, “What I meant was, do you need me to get you anything?” He realised she was correct… it had all been a bit haphazard. He hadn’t been taking care of that side of his diaper hygiene, just having a shower then dressing for college… and his crotch and bum were raw and beginning to itch. His mom bought him some more appropriate disposables, plastic pants and assorted lotions and powders, it was like when he was a kid again and she loved the diversion from her own problems. One evening when Mark was getting ready for bed and applying his night time protection his mom came in and asked him if he recalled that he went through a similar period of bed-wetting when he was four. He remembered but, perhaps surprisingly, not in a negative way… it had all been so normal. She told him that he’d been potty-trained for two years when, just before he started school, he started to wet again. “Stress,” she said as if it was the answer, “you were very scared of leaving me and going to school.” His mom went on to tell him about the fun she and his father had with diapering their slightly older, but still little scamp as he played. “Wearing a diaper never stopped you doing anything. You never seemed to worry about it.” Indeed, from the moment it had been suggested that he needed to go back into diapers to save the bedding and loads of washing, he seemed to accept it. His dad was determined that he shouldn’t get distressed by being back in a diaper so had gone out of his way to be positive when his son was wearing them. This was partly due to the fact that he had also wet the bed as a child and his father, Mark’s grandfather, had given his own son such a horrible time about it; ridiculing and chastising him all the time. Mark’s dad was determined that if that type of misfortune should happen to his own son he would never be made to feel guilty about it. In fact, his dad, and mom to a certain degree, had loved having their 4 year-old baby back. They loved him scampering around the house in just a diaper and it never bothered young Mark because he was always being told it was normal as it was no more than just another style of underwear. The truth was that both his parents had loved his sweet little padded butt getting into all the things a 4 year-old got into. His dad had made it into a game for Mark and bought special plastic covers for his son’s diapers. Soon the little imp was running around in brightly coloured pants, that although made the padding thicker, didn’t seem to hinder his ability, or confidence, in getting around. At school there was no difficulty as he wasn’t the only one still in diapers and while at home, he seemed to prefer to wear little else. Even though it started as just a night time precaution, Mark was often up and dressed first thing in a morning before his parents and he’d have fastened himself into a diaper for the day… no matter what he was doing or where he was going. Both his mom and dad thought this was the cutest thing and Mark himself seemed to love each new design that was slipped over his diaper… often choosing the colour and pattern that his dad offered him each day. He wore all that extra padding from 4 years until he was almost eight, when, after a stay-over with his friend Danny, he'd asked his mom to buy him some big boy pants for when he started school again. Although his parents were sad that their little boy had grown up, they didn’t want to keep him dressed that way if he it made him unhappy. As his mum told him this story, parts of that time came flooding back to him and he remembered it as a period when he had never been happier. There was a great deal of loving attention from both his mom and dad and he recalled the constant picking up and hugging by them both. “We just loved patting your thick diapered butt.” His mom had said with a reminiscing smile, “and you… well you’d never seemed more content”. Suddenly those words struck him “never more content” and he knew exactly what he could do with his young, would-be assailant. His mind was suddenly dazzled with the possibility of this new enterprise. As the boy slept on oblivious of the thoughts that were now so appealing to Mark, the psychologist regretted chucking the lad’s clothing into the wash. As the final spin-cycle came to a stop he realised that any clues to his identity would probably have been washed away. The damp bundle of clothes revealed nothing at all. In fact, only the boy’s jeans appeared to have held together, the rest had simply dissolved to mere bits and pieces not even fit for rags. Finding out any information about the boy was now down to what he was prepared to reveal. He wasn’t sure if this would be a problem but looking down on the lad, wrapped in such a thick diaper, he thought it all might be worth the effort. He had this grand plan developing in his head as he slipped upstairs to his doctor friend to tell him about his intentions and to borrow some items that he thought would come in useful. ***tbc***