Story and Art Forum

Hi guys, i just wanna share my most recent journey. I didn't have any DL friend around for me to express the emotions upon situation that I've got into. I just want to ask for input. Any input that could be useful for me going forward. Recently I've been diagnosed with Slipped Disk (herniated spinal disk). It just happened. One day, i woke with sharp pain in my calf. It feels like the tendons were shredded with the knife. I just thought that it just a muscle cramp and do some stretching and move on. Being a blue collar worker, you learn it yourself to ignore kind of things like that. You only thought about what to bring to your table back home for your family, there is still someones depending on you. I still considering myself lucky since i still got my parents living with at my house. I Always thought that it was a blessing for me having them around me. The next day, the pain spread to the thighs and my face started to show that I've struggled to handle the pain. Ive managed to continue the day with some muscle patch and painkillers. The problem comes with notice, it's just me that decided to ignored it. I can't even lift my feet the next day. Even moving it a bit hurts like hell. Now, my back feels like someone been gouging it with pry bar and just left it like that. There is tear coming out my eye. I couldn't handle the pain anymore. I chuck some painkiller until i feels the pain lessen a bit. Started my car and head for the ER. The 10 mins drive feels like eternity. I don't know what kind of shot that I've get at the ER, it feels numb and and I've started to relax a bit. I got admitted to the hospital. Later got scanned and been told that my L4-L5-S1 spinal disk is slipped and surgery is needed. I've been informed by the doc about the possibility that could happen during and after surgery, unable to move your lower body, incontinence  ect. I've acknowledge it all. Being a DL, i got no problem about that.  After the surgery, the recovery went pretty well. Even though the hospital prepared some diaper for me during my almost 2 week recovery . I ordered 2 pack of lunar cub that I've always wanted to try and got it send to me at the hospital. It's always a new experienced that makes me feels excited but not in a sexual way. Sometimes, the nurses asked if i needed a change. Sometimes it's just changed, woke up to a fresh diaper for some reason. I declined the offer to get changed because i want to put on the lunar cub after showering. I Spread some baby powder inside the diaper, wears it myself and put on the hospital gown. As im walking around, i could hear the nurses 'i smell baby powder' i just ignore it and walk to the physio center. During the transdermal lazer session, the staff noticed that the diaper that im wearing is not the hospital issued and told me that he didn't knew that there's a sky blue diaper in the market it's looks thick too, nowadays newer diaper were thinner. I just told her that it's a new design and just wanted to try it. During the session lying down I wet the diaper 3-4 times and it all accumulated at front of the diaper. After the session, i walked back to my room and it crinkle all the way back. As soon as im there, i took my meds, drink lots of water and took some naps and wakes up hours later in a DRY DIAPER... MOTHERFK.... I got changed by the nurse and now she knew about the lunar cub obviously cuz i got changed to a fresh one. Suddenly the nurse get in my room to take my blood pressure, while smiling she says 'cute diaper'. My face redden and im stuttering either to thanks her or plead her to keep it as a secret. The told me that it's ok, there's nothing to be shy and scared for. She's already seen everything, she's know everything about me. That statement calms me down. She tells me that, It's hospital policy to use patient personal diaper if they brought them self, so it's not a problem. She jokingly tells me that it's kinda boring to see just plain white diaper anyway. She also remind me to not change the diaper in the shower/toilet due to falling risk and always asked the nurses for help. Now the problem is, couple days before i got discharged from the hospital i really lose my bladder control. I've consult my doctor and he reminds me about the possibility that could happen even after surgery. I accepted the condition and he asked to keep trying and don't lose spirit recovery is a long journey. He also tells me that he is always ready to help when help is needed. I actually Didn't know how to react. Being a DL, i love being in one, got no problem but the longest 24/7 I've been in a diaper is a week. Now, This could possibly be my entire life... I got no problem with people around me seeing me in a diaper. But could i handle it financially?..... Diaper are surely not cheap, especially one that could go for long hr  I don't know..... Sometimes i just thought it was my karma... Lets just hope someday i could find a way Thanks for giving me a chance to banter around         

Honey batter chicken tenders and brown-sugar carrots. Legs still cramping, so Mom cooked.

glanced down, catching a glimpse of pale pink ruffles peeking out from under the skirt. "Maybe if it weren’t so… short," he muttered, more to himself than to her. Ella set her tablet down with a soft *click*. "We’ve been over this," she said, leaning forward just enough to make the sunlight catch the amusement in her eyes. "The length is part of the charm. Besides, it’s not like you’re going anywhere crowded today." She reached across the island, her fingers brushing his wrist. "Just the tailor. And *she* already knows." The tailor. Liam’s stomach twisted. Of course he knew—Ella had made sure of that. Mrs. Havelock’s shop was the only one in the city that would accommodate their… *special requests*, as Ella called them. The last fitting had been bad enough, with the mature womans  tape measure skimming over the thick padding beneath Liam’s skirts while she jotted notes het two pretty young shop assistants giggled as they looked on .without so much as a raised eyebrow. But today was different. Today, Ella had promised, was about *solutions*. She stood, smoothing her blouse with a brisk efficiency that made Liam’s pulse skip. "Finish your juice," she said, nodding to the half-empty glass on the counter. "We’re leaving in ten." Liam swallowed hard. The juice was watered down—another one of Ella’s *adjustments*—but he drank it anyway. He’d learned the hard way that resisting only made things worse. The bell above Mrs. Havelock’s shop door tinkled like a nursery mobile, and Liam’s cheeks burned hotter than the steam from the pressing irons lining the back wall. Lucy—the blonde—glanced up from her sewing machine, her lips quirking into a knowing smile as she took in Liam’s ensemble. Katie didn’t even bother hiding her giggle behind her hand, dark curls bouncing as she leaned over to whisper something to her colleague. Mrs. Havelock herself emerged from behind a rack of half-finished garments, her measuring tape slung over one shoulder like a sash. "Ah, right on time," she said, her voice smooth as the satin draped across her cutting table. "We’ve just finished the last of the—ah—*special orders*." Ella guided Liam forward with a hand at the small of his back, her nails pressing just enough to remind him of the rules. *No fussing. No resistance.* "We’ll take everything," she announced, as if ordering groceries. Mrs. Havelock nodded, already motioning toward a wrapped parcel on the counter. Katie sprang up to fetch it, her Mary Janes clicking against the hardwood.  The package crinkled ominously as Katie set it down. Liam didn’t need to see inside to know what awaited him—the terry toweling nappies, the plastic pants with their telltale sheen, the frilly knickers in shades meant to mock masculinity. But then Ella tapped the counter. "And the new dress?" she prompted. Mrs. Havelock’s smile deepened. "Ah, yes. Lucy, darling, bring out the *pièce de résistance*."  Lucy returned holding a froth of pink satin so short Liam’s knees went weak. The bodice was trimmed with lace, the skirt layered with ruffles that would barely cover the crinkling evidence beneath. "It’s even shorter than the last one," Liam blurted before he could stop himself. Ella’s fingers  tightened imperceptibly on his shoulder—a warning—but Katie’s giggle cut through the tension like scissors through silk. "Oh, but it’s *darling*," she cooed, twirling the dress so the ruffles flared. "And with these—" She held up a pair of knickers so sheer Liam could see the outline of the lace trim through the fabric, "—everyone’ll *know* you’re dressed properly underneath."  Mrs. Havelock arched a brow as she unrolled a bolt of lemon-yellow chiffon across the cutting table. "The socks are ready," she said, nodding to a dainty box tied with ribbon. "Though I took the liberty of adding a *little* something extra." Ella’s eyes gleamed as she lifted the lid, revealing ankle socks with rows of ruffles sewn along the cuffs. "Perfect," she murmured, tracing one with her fingertip. Liam focused on the ceiling’s exposed beams, willing himself not to fidget as Lucy knelt to adjust the hem of his current dress, her fingers brushing the plastic beneath with clinical detachment.  Katie leaned against the counter, chin in hand. "So is he getting the crib again, or…?" Ella’s smile was serene. "Not this time. We’re upgrading." From behind a curtain, Mrs. Havelock wheeled out a polished mahogany high chair—complete with a tray latch and intricately carved rocking legs. The seat was upholstered in the same pale pink satin as Liam’s knickers. Lucy clapped her hands. "*Much* better than a crib for feedings," she said brightly, as if discussing weather. Liam’s throat closed around a sound that wasn’t quite a protest but wasn’t not one either.  Ella ran her hand along the high chair’s curved back. "Custom measurements, of course," Mrs. Havelock assured her, producing a clipboard. "Thirty-one inches at the waist, accounting for… *layers*." Katie smirked as she scooped up an armful of finished knickers, their ruffles bouncing like cotton candy. "We lined the crotches with extra absorbency," she said cheerfully. "Since *someone*"—she shot Liam a wink—"keeps forgetting to use the potty like a big boy."  The bell above the door jingled again, and a broad-shouldered man in a tailored suit strode in, his cufflinks glinting. Ella’s posture shifted instantly, her hand slipping from Liam’s back. "Right on time," she purred. Mrs. Havelock barely glanced up from her ledger. "Ah, Mr. Holloway. Your alterations are in the back." The man’s gaze slid over Liam’s ensemble, lingering on the exposed ruffle of his knickers before meeting Ella’s eyes with a slow smile. Liam suddenly understood why the high chair’s tray had a locking mechanism. The morning sun slanted through Mrs. Havelock’s shop windows, illuminating dust motes that danced above the whirring sewing machines. Lucy’s blonde ponytail swayed as she leaned over her work, fingers deftly guiding lace trim beneath the needle. The fabric—pale lemon chiffon with layers of ruffles so dense they resembled a wedding cake—was destined for what Katie had gleefully dubbed "the humiliation collection." She’d pinned her dark curls up with a ribbon today, the better to smirk over at Liam as she held up a pair of knickers with a lace-trimmed waistband wide enough to frame his hips like a neon sign. "These’ll show off the plastic pants *beautifully*," she stage-whispered to Lucy, who giggled into her shoulder. Mrs. Havelock emerged from the backroom carrying a bolt of pale pink satin that shimmered like wet candy. At fifty-three,and a  sexy body  she moved with the precision of a woman who’d spent decades measuring inseams and knowing exactly where to let a hem ride up. "The new Mary Janes arrived," she announced, setting down the satin to retrieve a shoebox tied with pink grosgrain. Ella’s fingers were already pulling at the ribbon before Mrs. Havelock could finish adding, "Custom lasts, of course. Narrower than our usual." The shoes inside gleamed like polished conch shells, their stubby heels capped with bows that matched the frilly ankle socks draped over Katie’s sewing basket. Liam’s throat went dry as Ella held up the dress she’d commissioned—a frothy confection of tiered ruffles that barely skimmed mid-thigh. The bodice was cinched with a sash that would emphasize the dip of his waist, the sleeves puffed enough to make his shoulders look deliberately delicate. "Turn around," Ella murmured, rotating the hanger so the back gaped open in a deep V, revealing where satin ribbons would crisscross over his spine. "For easy access," Katie supplied helpfully, biting her lip when Liam’s flush crept past his collar. Lucy abandoned her sewing machine to drape a measuring tape around his waist, her breath warm against his ear as she murmured, "Thirty-one inches with* nappies, just like last time." The bell above the door chimed, and three pairs of eyes—Mrs. Havelock’s sharp, Lucy’s amused, Katie’s downright gleeful—snapped to the parcel Ella deposited on the counter. The brown paper crackled as she unfolded it, revealing a dozen terry nappies stacked like pancakes, their thick cotton loops already softened by pre-washing. Beneath them,soft  plastic pants in every pastel shade shimmered like jellyfish. "The crinkliest ones," Ella confirmed to Mrs. Havelock’s approving nod, while Katie dug through the pile to unearth a pair with scalloped edges and a ruffled waistband. "For special occasions," she cooed, holding them up to Liam’s hips as if visualizing the effect. Mrs. Havelock’s shears made a satisfying *snick* as she sliced through the satin, her gaze flicking between Liam and the dress form that already wore his measurements like a second skin. "We’ll need to adjust the hem for the new nappies," she mused, pinning the chiffon overlay higher. Lucy’s fingers brushed Liam’s wrist as she handed him a sock garter threaded with pink ribbon. "To keep your frills from sliding down," she explained sweetly, though the glint in her eye suggested she knew exactly how the tiny bows would peek out beneath his dress’s flouncing hem. The bell above Mrs. Havelock's shop door tinkled again, but this time it wasn't Ella or Liam entering—it was the delivery boy from the fabric warehouse, his arms stacked with bolts of pastel chiffon that shimmered like spun sugar under the morning light. Lucy looked up from her sewing machine, where she was attaching the fifteenth layer of lace to a pair of knickers so frilly they could stand on their own. "Oh good, the lemon chiffon," she chirped, abandoning her workstation to help unload. Katie didn't even glance up from where she was hand-stitching rows of tiny bows along the waistband of a satin knicker,s her needle flashing like a minnow in sunlight.   Mrs. Havelock emerged from the back room, her measuring tape draped over one shoulder like a feather boa. She took one look at the delivery boy's reddening ears as Lucy leaned past him to grab the chiffon and smirked. "Put the pink shher fabric on the cutting table, dear," she instructed, plucking a spool of pearlized thread from the boy's overloaded cart. The shop smelled of starch and lavender sachets, with an underlying tang of new plastic from the stack of freshly unpacked panties waiting to be ruffled.   Ella's, her heels clicking decisively on the hardwood as she surveyed the shop's latest offerings. Liam trailed behind her, his new Mary Janes squeaking slightly with each step—Katie had already polished them to a high gloss before they'd even been paid for. "We'll take the entire rail," Ella announced, gesturing to a lineup of dresses so short Liam could feel the air conditioning on his plastic-covered thighs. Lucy clapped her hands together, already reaching for the lemon chiffon number with the scalloped hem. "This one's *perfect   Katie abandoned her sewing to drag out a wicker basket overflowing with knickers, each pair more elaborate than the last. She held up a sheer pink pair with lace appliques in strategic places. "These are *see-through* except for the ruffles," she stage-whispered to Ella, who arched a brow in approval. Liam stared fixedly at a spot above the doorframe, where a faded sticker of a rocking horse peeled at the corner.   Mrs. Havelock produced a clipboard with practiced ease. "The high chair's been upholstered to match," she said, nodding toward the back room where the mahogany monstrosity now boasted a cushion embroidered with Liam's initials—in cursive, flanked by roses. Ella ran her fingers along the satin straps dangling from the armrests. "Adjustable," Mrs. Havelock added, snapping her measuring tape against her palm. Katie giggled into a bolt of satin. "Oh yes, those frilly panties are so pretty and girly—just right for a sissy baby like you." Katie’s voice was saccharine as she twirled the lace-trimmed knickers on her finger, the sheer fabric catching the light like a pink cobweb. Liam’s cheeks burned hotter than the steam from Mrs. Havelock’s pressing irons, his fingers knotting in the satin ruffles of his dress. The shop’s air was thick with the scent of lavender starch and the crinkling whisper of plastic beneath his skirts, but none of that compared to the sudden, urgent pressure in his bladder. He shifted from foot to foot, the Mary Janes squeaking against the hardwood. Lucy glanced up from her sewing machine, her smirk widening as she took in Liam’s fidgeting. "Someone’s doing the potty dance," she singsonged, and Katie giggled, clutching the knickers to her chest like a prized doll. Liam’s throat tightened. He’d drunk all that watered-down juice Ella insisted on, and now his weakened bladder throbbed with every passing second. The more he tried to hold it, the more the pressure built, until his thighs trembled and his breath came in shallow hitches.  Ella’s hand settled on his shoulder, her nails pressing just enough to still his squirming. "Relax," she murmured, but the word was a taunt, not a comfort. Liam’s vision blurred at the edges as his body betrayed him—a warm, spreading wetness seeped through the thick terry cloth, the crinkle of plastic pants growing louder as the weight settled between his thighs. A whimper escaped his lips before he could choke it back. "Oh, silly baby," Katie cooed, pressing a hand to her mouth as Liam's plastic pants emitted an unmistakable crinkle. The sound seemed to echo off the shop's tin ceiling, louder than the hum of sewing machines. Liam's breath hitched as warmth spread through the thick layers, the terry cloth absorbing what his body couldn't hold. His fingers clutched at his ruffled skirt, the satin suddenly too heavy, too hot against his trembling thighs.  Mrs. Havelock didn't even glance up from her ledger. "Back room's free," she said, as casually as if discussing hem lengths. Lucy sprang to her feet, already gathering a fresh nappy from the stack on the counter—pink, of course, with embroidered ducklings along the waistband. Ella's grip on Liam's shoulder tightened, steering him toward the curtained alcove where bolts of chiffon hid a changing table upholstered in the same blush satin as his knickers.  The bell above the door jingled again, and Liam nearly sobbed when he recognized the broad-shouldered silhouette of Mr. Holloway pausing in the doorway. The man's polished oxfords gleamed as he stepped inside, his tailored suit hugging shoulders that made Liam feel even smaller in his frilly dress. "Am I interrupting?" Holloway asked, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he knew exactly what he'd walked in on. "Oh yes, those frilly panties are so pretty and girly—just right for a sissy baby like you," Katie crooned, twirling the lace-trimmed knickers around her finger like a victory flag. Liam's breath hitched as every eye in the shop locked onto him—Mrs. Havelock's razor-sharp gaze over her half-moon glasses, Lucy's barely-contained grin, Ella's serene amusement. The pressure in his bladder was a living thing now, pulsing with every heartbeat, and the crinkling plastic beneath his satin dress might as well have been a countdown timer. His toes curled inside the Mary Janes, knees pressing together involuntarily. A drop of sweat slid down his temple. The shop's air was suddenly too thick, too warm, the lavender starch scent cloying as his weakened muscles trembled. He tried to focus on the peeling rocking horse sticker above the doorframe, but Lucy's giggle shattered his concentration. "Someone's *really* doing the potty dance now," she stage-whispered to Katie, who clutched the knickers to her chest with theatrical sympathy. Ella's fingers tightened on his shoulder—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him of the rules. *No accidents in public. No fussing.* But his body had other plans. The first hot spurt escaped before he could clamp down, and the plastic pants crinkled obscenely loud as warmth spread through the thick terry cloth. His throat closed around a sound that wasn't quite a whimper but wasn't not one either. "Oh, silly baby," Katie crooned, fluttering the lace-trimmed knickers like a handkerchief as warmth spread through Liam's padding. The crinkling plastic beneath his dress crescendoed with each involuntary spurt, the sound echoing off the shop's tin ceiling. Liam's vision blurred—partly from humiliation, partly from the sheer relief of letting go—as the terry cloth grew heavier between his thighs.  Mr. Holloway's polished oxfords clicked against the hardwood as he stepped closer, his tailored suit sleeves brushing Liam's ruffled skirt. "Seems someone needs a change," he remarked, voice dripping with amusement. Liam couldn't tell which was hotter: the wetness soaking through his nappy or the way Holloway's gaze lingered on the damp satin clinging to his thighs.  Ella sighed—the same exasperated sound she used when their cat knocked over a vase—and nudged Liam toward the back room. "Bring the duckling nappy," she instructed Lucy, who was already bouncing on her toes like this was the highlight of her week. The changing table waited behind a curtain of pink organza, its satin straps dangling like party streamers. Liam's Mary Janes left damp footprints on the hardwood as he shuffled forward, the plastic pants sagging with every step. Ella guided Liam onto the changing table with the same brisk efficiency she used when folding laundry, her fingers deft as she untied the satin ribbons at his waist. The plastic pants came down with a crinkle that made Lucy clap her hands in delight, while Katie leaned in so close her curls brushed Liam’s trembling thigh. "Oh my *god*," she squealed, clutching Mrs. Havelock’s sleeve, "it’s even tinier than Janice described!" The wet nappy landed in the proffered plastic bag with a damp thud, revealing Liam’s pale, hairless groin—his flaccid length barely visible between the swell of his padded thighs, his testicles drawn up tight as acorns in a silk pouch.  Lucy made a show of adjusting her measuring tape around his hips, the cold metal stark against his overheated skin. "Twenty-nine inches *without* nappies," she announced, as if reporting stock prices. Katie dissolved into giggles again, pressing her face into Mrs. Havelock’s shoulder while the older woman merely arched a brow and reached for the duckling-embroidered nappy. "Tsk. Such a *little* thing," Mrs. Havelock mused, her tone clinical as she dusted baby powder over Liam’s groin. The scent—cloyingly sweet, like sugared violets—hung thick in the air as Ella guided his legs up, exposing him further.  Mr. Holloway’s shadow fell across the changing table, his polished shoes creaking as he leaned against the doorframe. Liam squeezed his eyes shut, but not before catching the man’s smirk—the way his gaze lingered where Katie’s fingers were now tracing the lace trim of a fresh pair of knickers against Liam’s inner thigh. "Those’ll *pop* against the lemon chiffon," Katie whispered, her breath hot against Liam’s ear as Lucy snapped the plastic pants into place with a flourish. The crinkle echoed through the room, louder than Mrs. Havelock’s shears slicing through satin. Ella's fingers worked with the brisk efficiency of a nurse changing bed linens, unpinning the sodden nappy with practiced motions. The damp terry cloth fell away with a wet *plop*, revealing Liam’s flushed skin beneath. Kate’s giggles hit a fever pitch as she clutched the plastic bag open, her curls bouncing with every breathless shriek. "Oh my *god*," she wheezed, pressing her free hand to her mouth as if trying—and failing—to contain her delight. "It’s like a little pink bean!" Lucy abandoned her measuring tape to lean in closer, her blonde ponytail brushing Liam’s thigh as she examined him with the clinical interest of a biologist inspecting a rare specimen. "Twenty-nine inches without nappies," she repeated, as if the tape measure had lied the first time.  Mrs. Havelock didn’t laugh. She simply arched one meticulously groomed brow and reached for the duckling-embroidered nappy waiting on the trolley. The scent of baby powder bloomed in the air as she dusted it over Liam’s groin, the fine white cloud settling on his hairless skin like snow on a windowsill. "Such a *little* thing," she mused, her tone as neutral as if she were commenting on thread count. Liam squeezed his eyes shut, but not before catching the way Mr. Holloway’s shadow stretched across the changing table—the man’s polished oxfords planted shoulder-width apart, his tailored suit sleeves rolled to reveal forearms thick enough to make Liam feel even smaller in his frills.  Lucy's blue eyes widened with genuine curiosity as she leaned in, her blonde ponytail swinging forward like a pendulum. "But why is it so *so* small?" she asked, tilting her head with the innocent confusion of a child asking why the sky was blue. Her fingertip hovered a scant inch above Liam's groin, where his flaccid length lay hidden beneath a dusting of baby powder. "Like... can you even *feel* anything when—"  Ella's laugh cut through the room like a knife through satin—smooth, deliberate, and just sharp enough to draw blood. "Oh sweetheart," she sighed, plucking the fresh nappy from Mrs. Havelock's hands with the ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. She unfolded it with a crisp snap, the embroidered ducklings along the waistband seeming to quack in silent judgment. "That's the thing about myths—they only tell half the story."  Liam squeezed his eyes shut as Ella lifted his legs, the cold air hitting his exposed skin like a slap. Katie muffled a giggle behind her hands, but Lucy watched with rapt attention as Ella continued, her voice taking on the cadence of a schoolteacher explaining photosynthesis. "Size *doesn't* matter... when it's average." The nappy crinkled as she slid it beneath him, the terry cloth whisper-soft against his thighs. "But *this*?" She dusted another puff of powder over him, the violet-scented cloud settling like fog over a battlefield. "This is why they make vibrators, darling." Lucy’s fingers hovered just above Liam’s powdered groin, her brows knitting together in childlike confusion. "But... how does it even..." She glanced up at Ella, cheeks pinkening slightly beneath her freckles. "Does it *work*?"  Ella folded the fresh nappy with deliberate precision, the embroidered ducklings along its hem seeming to smirk as she positioned it beneath Liam’s trembling thighs. "Oh, it *works*," she said smoothly, snapping the plastic pants into place with a crinkle that made Liam flinch. "Just not the way you’re thinking."  Katie abandoned her bolt of chiffon to lean against the changing table, her dark eyes glittering. "Wait, so when you two—" Ella's fingers paused mid-fold on the fresh nappy, her manicured nails tapping against the terry cloth as she considered Lucy's wide-eyed question. The shop had gone unnaturally quiet—even Katie's giggles had stalled—as all eyes turned toward the changing table. Liam's breath hitched when Ella finally spoke, her voice taking on the lecturing lilt she used when explaining why he couldn't have regular underwear anymore.   "Oh sweetheart," Ella sighed, smoothing the duckling-embroidered nappy beneath Liam's trembling thighs with deliberate strokes. "That's the thing about bedroom myths—they leave out the messy details." She snapped the plastic pants into place with a crisp crinkle that made Liam jump. "People love to say size doesn't matter, but tell me..." Her gaze flicked up to Lucy, sharp as a seamstress's pin. "Have you ever tried threading a needle with yarn?"   Lucy's cheeks pinked beneath her freckles as the analogy sank in. Behind her, Katie clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Mrs. Havelock merely arched a brow and reached for her measuring tape, draping it around Liam's waist with clinical detachment. Ella's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as she fastened the plastic pants snugly around Liam's hips, the crinkling sound punctuating her words like punctuation marks. "Oh, Lucy," she sighed, fingers lingering on the ruffled waistband. "Porn lies. Romance novels lie. Even those 'size doesn't matter' platitudes—" She snapped the elastic against Liam's skin, making him whimper. "—are really only true within a certain range."  Lucy blinked, her pink-glossed lips parting slightly as Ella continued. Mrs. Havelock had paused her measuring tape mid-air, the numbers frozen at twenty-nine inches. Katie was practically vibrating beside the changing table.. "Imagine trying to drink a milkshake through one of those tiny coffee stirrers," Ella said, plucking a fresh pair of knickers from the pile—sheer pink with lace roses positioned exactly where they'd draw the eye. "Technically, it's possible. But is it satisfying?" Her fingers traced the scalloped edges of the knickers before holding them up to the light, the fabric nearly transparent. "Now imagine that stirrer is more like... a cocktail umbrella." Katie's fingers twitched against the ruffled hem of Liam's fresh knickers, her dark eyes alight with mischief. "But how big does it *get*?" she pressed, leaning in so close her curls brushed Liam's powdered thigh.  Lucy's measuring tape slipped from her fingers, clattering against the changing table as she whirled to stare at Katie. Mrs. Havelock's scissors froze mid-snip through a bolt of satin. Even Mr. Holloway, who'd been idly examining a display of frilly sock garters, turned his head slightly—just enough to catch the exchange in his periphery.  Ella's lips curved into a smile sharper than her dressmaker's pins. She pointrf to the tape measure in Lucys hand  The numbers along its edge were worn faint from use. "About this much," she said, holding it up between thumb and forefinger. The measurement barely cleared two inches. Ella's smile sharpened as she her fingers ponted to her husband crotch . "But darling," she purred, tilting her head toward Lucy's measuring tape, "why guess when we can *know*?" The dress makers  tape glinted under the shop lights like a dare.  Lucy's gaze flicked between Katie and Liam's frilly knickers and plastic-covered hips, her blue eyes widening with sudden understanding. "I'll pull his knickers down," she volunteered breathlessly, already reaching for the ruffled waistband. Katie's hand shot out to stop her. "*Together*," she insisted, fingers curling around Lucy's wrist. Their shared giggle coiled through the room like ribbon around a maypole.  Liam's thighs pressed together instinctively, but Ella's palm settled on his knee with the weight of a paperweight. "Stay," she murmured, the word as immovable as the high chair's mahogany frame. Mrs. Havelock made a thoughtful sound in her throat and produced a second measuring tape—this one in blush pink satin, the numbers embroidered in cursive. "For accuracy," she explained, dangling it between Katie and Lucy like bait. Ella's smile deepened as she tapped the wooden ruler against her palm. "Why speculate," she mused, "when we have *two* measuring tapes?" Lucy's fingers trembled slightly as she accepted the blush satin tape from Mrs. Havelock, its embroidered numbers curling like question marks against her skin. Katie snatched the silver one from the changing table with considerably less ceremony, the metal edge catching the light as she whirled toward Liam. Mrs. Havelock's chuckle rumbled like distant thunder as she stepped forward. "Well now," she said, adjusting her half-moon glasses with one hand while producing a spool of pink ribbon with the other. "For *science*." The absurdity of the word—delivered in her dry, matter-of-fact tone—made Lucy bite her lip to stifle a giggle. Katie didn't bother suppressing hers. "Teamwork makes the dream work," she chirped, already hooking a finger into the elastic of Liam's plastic pants. Lucy mirrored the motion on the opposite side, their hands meeting at the small of his back with a crinkle that sounded suspiciously like applause. Liam's breath hitched as cool air hit his powdered skin, his thighs twitching beneath their grip. Lucy's fingernails—painted the same pearlescent pink as the ribbon threaded through Liam's sock garters—caught the light as she hooked a fingertip beneath the ruffled waistband of his frilly knickers and  plastic pants. Katie mirrored the motion on the opposite side, their synchronized movements practiced despite this being their first time undressing him together. The crinkling crescendoed as they peeled the plastic down Liam's powdered thighs, the sound echoing off Mrs. Havelock's tin ceiling like rain on a greenhouse roof.  "Hold still," Katie murmured, though Liam wasn't moving—couldn't move, not with Ella's palm anchoring his knee to the changing table and Mrs. Havelock's measuring tape draped across his chest like a ceremonial sash. The nappy's pins glinted as Lucy worked the left one free, her tongue peeking between her teeth in concentration. Katie unpinned the right side with considerably less ceremony, the metal *snick* cutting through the shop's lavender-scented hush. The terry cloth fell away like a stage curtain, revealing what Ella had termed his "little pink bean" to the shop's unforgiving morning light. Liam squeezed his eyes shut, but not before catching the way Lucy's blue eyes widened—not with mockery, but with genuine scientific curiosity. Her fingertip hovered over the wooden ruler Ella still held, comparing the two measurements with the intensity of an astronomer aligning telescopes. Lucy's finger trembled slightly as she pressed the wooden ruler against Liam's flaccid length, the grain of the wood catching on delicate skin. The shop's overhead lights cast harsh shadows that made the numbers difficult to read at first. She blinked once, twice—then inhaled sharply through her nose. "One and... three-quarters inches," she announced, voice cracking on the fraction. The ruler slipped slightly as she spoke, nudging the tiny organ enough to make Liam whimper. Katie's gasp was theatrically loud, her hands flying to cover her mouth as if she'd just witnessed a magic trick. "No *wonder* Ella needs—" Mrs. Havelock's elbow connected with her ribs before she could finish, but the implication hung in the air like the scent of baby powder. Lucy, still gripping the ruler with academic intensity, rotated it slowly as though expecting the measurement to change from another angle. Ella plucked the ruler from Lucy's fingers with the brisk efficiency of a teacher confiscating a note. "That's at *rest*," she clarified, tapping the wood against her palm. The dull *thwap* underscored her words like punctuation. "When aroused..." She trailed off meaningfully, handing the ruler back to Lucy while reaching into her handbag with her free hand. The crinkle of a fresh nappy being unfolded filled the silence. Liam's breath came in shallow, panicked bursts as Lucy's fingers—soft as the chiffon they'd been cutting all morning—closed around his limp shaft. The warmth of her touch sent a traitorous flush creeping up his neck, his body responding despite the humiliation burning through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying his pathetic length wouldn't betray him further by stiffening under their scrutiny.  "Ohhh," Katie cooed, leaning so close her curls brushed Liam's trembling thigh. "It's like holding a pencil eraser!" Her giggle was cut short when Mrs. Havelock's measuring tape snapped against her wrist with the precision of a schoolmarm's ruler.  "Enough gawking," the older woman chided, though her sharp gaze lingered on Liam's exposed groin with clinical detachment. "Lucy, hold the ruler steady—we're not savages." The blush satin tape curled around Liam's flaccid length like a cruel joke, the embroidered numbers declaring his shame in delicate cursive. Ella's sigh cut through the lavender-scented air as she watched Lucy's attempts to align the ruler. "See what I mean?" she murmured to Mrs. Havelock, tapping one manicured nail against the wooden measuring stick. "You could thread a dozen needles before he even—" "Two inches," Lucy interrupted, her voice oddly flat. The ruler slipped from her fingers, clattering against the changing table. "Exactly one  inch when...soft " She gestured vaguely at Liam's groin, cheeks flushing beneath her freckles. Katie's gasp was theatrical as a stage actress's. "That's *impossible*!" She reached for the ruler, but Mrs. Havelock intercepted it with the speed of a seamstress snatching falling shears. The older woman's lips pursed as she examined Liam's shameful measurement herself, her thumb rubbing thoughtfully over the worn numbers. "Oh *god*," Katie interrupted, pressing both hands to her flushed cheeks. "Imagine Ella with someone *real*—" Her gaze darted to Mr. Holloway's broad silhouette still lingering by the ribbon display, and Liam's stomach twisted. Lucy's thumb absently stroked the ruler's edge where it rested against Liam's thigh. The tiny friction shouldn't have mattered—*couldn't* have mattered—but his traitorous body responded anyway. A hot pulse of blood rushed downward, his pathetic length twitching against the cool wood. "No no *no*," Liam whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as warmth spread beneath Lucy's fingertips. The ruler shifted minutely as his flesh swelled, the measurement creeping toward— Liam's breath hitched as Ella's words settled over him like a weighted blanket—too heavy, too warm, pressing into every crevice of his humiliation. His tiny length twitched against the wooden ruler still held by Lucy's manicured fingers, betraying him in ways he couldn't articulate. The shop's lavender-scented air thickened with every pulse of blood rushing southward, his pathetic erection straining against the cold measurement tool. "Ohhh *wow*," Lucy breathed, her blue eyes widening as she watched Liam's flesh quiver beneath the ruler. Her fingertip traced the minuscule swell, nail catching the light like a pink satin ribbon. "Look, it's twitching! It's fully hard now—let's take another measurement!" The ruler slid incrementally upward as Liam's traitorous body responded, the numbers crawling toward— "Two-point-two-five inches," Katie announced with the gravitas of a scientist discovering a new species. She leaned in so close her curls tickled Liam's inner thigh, her giggle warm against his overheated skin. "Gained a whole two millimeters! Someone's *excited*." Her fingers fluttered near his groin like butterflies circling a flower too small to land on. Liam’s tiny erection pulsed against the wooden ruler, the pathetic twitch betraying him more thoroughly than any wet nappy ever could. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of Ella with another man—someone broad-shouldered and thick-thighed, someone who wouldn’t need measuring tapes and rulers—burned behind his eyelids. His breath hitched as his flesh strained toward Lucy’s fingers, the traitorous swell inching the ruler upward by fractions. "Ohhh *wow*," Lucy squealed, her thumb brushing the flushed tip with clinical fascination. "Look! It bit me!" She giggled, holding up the ruler like a trophy. "Another two millimeters! Someone’s *invested* in this conversation."  Katie collapsed against the changing table, her laughter shaking the satin straps. "Oh my *god*, he’s *into* it!" She wheezed, clutching her ribs. "The way it *jumped* when Ella said ‘lover’—like a little frog!" Her fingers fluttered near Liam’s groin, miming tiny leaps. Mrs. Havelock’s scissors snipped through the silence, deliberate as a guillotine. "Mm. I think he likes the idea," she mused, eyeing Liam’s twitching length over her half-moon glasses. The blade gleamed as she trimmed a length of pink ribbon. "Quite a lot, judging by that... enthusiasm." Ella’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She plucked the ruler from Lucy’s grip and tapped it against Liam’s thigh—*thwap, thwap*—each strike timed with her words. "My. My. My." The wood stung just enough to make his erection waver. "All those nights you pretended to hate your frillies... and here you are, *throbbing* at the thought of me with a real man." Liam’s whimper was swallowed by Katie’s delighted shriek. "He *is*! Look at it bounce!" She pointed as his tiny length quivered, the flushed tip glistening under the shop lights. "It’s like a—a *gummy worm* having a seizure!" Liam’s tiny erection pulsed against the wooden ruler, the pathetic twitch betraying him more thoroughly than any wet nappy ever could. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of Ella with another man—someone broad-shouldered and thick-thighed, someone who wouldn’t need measuring tapes and rulers—burned behind his eyelids. His breath hitched as his flesh strained toward Lucy’s fingers, the traitorous swell inching the ruler upward by fractions. "Ohhh *wow*," Lucy squealed, her thumb brushing the flushed tip with clinical fascination. "Look! It bit me!" She giggled, holding up the ruler like a trophy. "Another two millimeters! Someone’s *invested* in this conversation." Katie collapsed against the changing table, her laughter shaking the satin straps. "Oh my *god*, he’s *into* it!" She wheezed, clutching her ribs. "The way it *jumped* when Ella said ‘lover’—like a little frog!" Her fingers fluttered near Liam’s groin, miming  Ella's fingers paused mid-fold on the fresh nappy as Katie's words sank in—*Mr. Holloway is quite on the large size.* The shop's tin ceiling seemed to press down suddenly, the lavender scent thickening in her throat. She didn't glance toward the ribbon display where the man stood, but her pulse jumped anyway, a traitorous flutter beneath her starched blouse collar. Lucy giggled into her measuring tape, the embroidered numbers trembling against Liam's thigh. "Oh, I *know*," she stage-whispered, twisting a blonde curl around her finger. "Remember when we had to rush his trousers to the fitting room last summer?" Her blue eyes flicked meaningfully toward Katie. "That *wasn't* a belt buckle imprint." Katie's laughter burst like champagne bubbles as she leaned across the changing table, her curls brushing Liam's plastic-covered hip. "Thirty-six inch inside leg," she announced with the reverence of a nun citing scripture. Her fingertip traced an imaginary line down Liam's trembling thigh. "*Minimum.* And trust me—" She dropped her voice to a hush that somehow carried further. "—it's *not* all in the tailoring."    

It's been a packed weekend, leading up to a packed week, with another week of travel on the docket, this time in a car, rather than an aircraft, so I could bring all the diapers with me, if I wanted to.  The brief headline (pun there...) is that I was back at the scene of the crime, at my buddy's place where I'd soaked the bed several weeks ago. I wore my plastic pants with the terry liner in them, over a BeDry Night, and ironically, I woke up pretty much bone dry - I'm still in the BeDry Night, while I run around getting ready for my trip.  How was it, you ask, to hang out with yet another buddy who knows I'm in diapers? I had built it up in my head, but after a few minutes, it just became routine. I was wondering if the topic was going to come up, or just go unspoken, or how, exactly, we would let the air out of the elephant in the room, but being a good friend, he just dove right in. Almost as soon as I walked through the door, he said, "So, are you wearing your Huggies?" His wife took an exaggerated breath, and shook her head, as she walked by the entranceway, on her way to head out somewhere.  I busted out laughing, and then said, "Yup, Huggies are in effect." He said, "You knew I was going to rib you about this, right?", and I said that I'd expected as much. He chuckled, and then got me a beer. We started chatting, ordered some food for delivery, drank more beer, watched hockey, and listened to music, and generally solved the world's problems. When it was time to go to bed, I changed my diaper, put my giant plastic pants on, pulled some shorts over them, and then tried to fearlessly make my way to bedroom, knowing that I looked like I had a pillow stuffed into my shorts, because I basically did. I didn't run into anynone in the evening, in that getup, but I did run into him in the morning, when I headed back to the bathroom to take the (unnecessary) plastic pants off. He said, "Hey, man - coffee?" And I said, "That would be excellent...", and then I went and washed my face, took the plastics off, and left the essentially dry BeDry Night on under my shorts, before heading down for a coffee, in the interesting position of it not mattering, really, if there was any detectable evidence of my "Huggies" showing.  So, so far, so good. Now, I have to get ready to leave, but I'll check in when I can while I'm gone. 

I'm replaying Horizon: Zero Dawn (PS4), and might also finally resume my Resident Evil 1 playthrough. I'm also trying to earn multiplayer trophies for Tomb Raider 2013, AC4 Black Flag, and Watch Dogs 1.