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Baby Talk
Let your baby side show.
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My journey back to babyhood – Part 11 But there was no sign of Rita. Even after I finished my drawing of Spidey—overweight, with a face like a turtle, and probably incapable of swinging from any building without tearing his spider strings or breaking his neck—Rita didn't show up. In my panic, all kinds of thoughts raced through my mind. What if Rita had forgotten the key, what if she had had an accident, what if she had been taken hostage in a nearby bank, or worse, what if she had died? What a terrible situation. And without a phone, I couldn't call for help. Who would I have called anyway? The fire department? At least they could have broken down the door—and would probably have been very surprised to see me like this. The second alternative wasn't much better: climbing out of bed, running outside with my arms in plaster casts to get help. Half laughing, half trembling with fear, I wet myself again. Seconds later, I felt the capacity of my diaper being exceeded. A warm liquid ran between my legs and landed on the white sheet. What a mess. Like a baby, I seemed to have lost control of my bodily functions. My penis continued to drip, and I noticed urine running further down into my groin area. I felt like a toddler, helpless, angry at myself, but also angry at Rita for not taking proper care of me. As my eyes filled with tears, I heard our front door open. Maybe a crime scene cleaner would be a better choice now, I thought. But it was Rita. “Hello, Daniel,” she said, poking her head through the door. “How are you? I... Oh, I think we need to take care of you first.” The room probably smelled like a cesspool, and Rita noticed it immediately. She came back in wearing her white coat and lifted my blanket. “Oh, that's not nice. I'm so sorry I was late. My fault, I'm sorry.” Wearing latex gloves, she opened my smelly diaper, cleaned my bottom as best she could, and threw the diaper in the trash. Embarrassed, I looked at my full diaper and saw how brown it had become. When Rita threw it away, a few small brown drops even ran out. “We also need to change the sheets, they're really dirty. Can you get out of bed with my help?” Was there any other choice, I thought. Rita and I tried to avoid the big brown stain, I moved slowly to the side and Rita held my arms until my feet touched the floor. Very carefully, Rita pulled me up until I was standing with my bare bottom next to the sideboard, where I could hold on a little. With a small damp towel from the bathroom, she then washed my bottom thoroughly and removed the remaining brown stains from my bottom, between my legs, and around my frightened little penis. After cleaning me up, she took a fresh diaper from the shelf, carefully placed it between my legs, and pulled it snugly around my waist. When I looked down at myself, I saw a little lion happily jumping around on my diaper, perhaps chasing the cute giraffe that was hiding on the side. How nice and comfortable it was to be in a fresh diaper again. “Where do you keep your bedding?” Rita asked. I told Rita that it was probably in the closet downstairs, and she disappeared to fetch it. “Oh, hello,” I suddenly heard another voice addressing me. I looked toward the door and saw, if not the real Mrs. Boulding, then almost her look-alike. A woman in her sixties with shoulder-length blonde hair stood in my doorway, wearing a pretty, simple brown dress, mocha-colored tights, matching moccasins, and a large white pearl necklace around her neck. “Hello, Mrs. ...” I stammered, trying not to faint. “You can call me Hellen,” she replied kindly, smiling at me. “I just wanted to get a cup of coffee. Is Rita here?” “Hello, Mrs. Hellen,” I replied, my face red, “Rita is out getting new bedding.” “Oh, just Hellen, no Mrs.,” she laughed and looked at the floor, where my Spidey picture lay right next to her feet. “A Ninja Turtle, how lovely, did you draw that?” she asked as she picked up the sheet of paper. “Yes, but it's Spider-Man,” I corrected her, a little embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. Now I see. Of course it's Spider-Man. It's blue and red, and a Ninja Turtle would be green, right?” Mrs. Boulding couldn't have put it more nicely. But before we could discuss my artwork any further, Rita came around the corner with the new sheet under her arm. I was still standing there, completely unprotected, like a statue, in my colorful safari diaper. I tried not to lose my balance and wet myself again. “This is my sister Hellen,” Rita tried to play down the embarrassing situation. "She came back from Europe a day early. We just wanted to have a cup of coffee and chat a bit. We also brought some cake for you." But without thinking twice, she made the best of the situation and turned to Hellen: “Sis, would you please help me with the sheet and get Daniel back into bed?” Hellen nodded, and together they pulled off the dirty sheet, put a large waterproof pad on the mattress, and covered it with the new sheet. Then it was my turn, and they helped me back into bed. As I sat on the edge of the bed, they carefully turned me around. Rita held my upper body while Hellen took care of my legs and supported my bottom by pressing against my diaper. “Now little Simba can rest again,” Hellen smiled as they laid me back in bed and covered me with the blanket. Then she turned to Rita: “Doesn't Daniel sweat in those diapers with plastic backing?” "I don't think so. I change him every two to three hours when he's wet. These diapers hold quite a lot and the plastic gives him extra security. Today I was just too late, especially after he had a poo. And at night he wears extra PVC pants. But to be on the safe side, I checked on him during the night too." Wasn't I just in the room? It was strange how the two of them talked about me. “Hellen, could you help Daniel with his cake? In the meantime, I'll make some coffee.” Hellen came back with the cake already cut into pieces and sat down next to me. “Rita is still sorry she was late. But she's glad I was there to help. I hope you don't mind that I helped her,” Hellen said as she fed me the cake with a spoon. I had calmed down again and replied that I was glad the situation had been cleared up. My thoughts wandered back to my kindergarten days and I imagined Mrs. Boulding helping me with the cake. After I was finished, Hellen left my room and sat down with Rita to drink her well-deserved coffee. to be continued…. That was part 11. I hope you enjoyed it. The next one will probably take a while, as I'm going on vacation for two weeks starting Monday, and I won't have much time after that either. But the story isn't over yet. And I hope that I can continue the story in March. -
By paddedprincess3 · Posted
Ah, looks like that slipped through the editing! Thanks for catching and thank you for reading! -
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By Little Sherri · Posted
I seem to be able to invent diapers in my sleep now. It's interesting how the cadence of diaper dreams works... I used to have them with some frequency, then I didn't have any for a long time, then I had that one, described above, and now, last night's dream. I wonder what the psychological impetus might be? Last night's dream, and the invention, went thusly: I was wearing some generic white diaper, if I had to guess, I'd say it was a BeDry, but it was probably just an architype of a decent white plastic diaper. I was travelling, or in any case, not at home, because I only had one replacement for it on hand, and apparently, I needed to change, although that was just an overarching feeling - I recall no specifics. On a sidenote, I was wondering, after I woke up, if that was related to the state of the actual diaper I was sleeping in, but the diaper I had on was barely wet. Even now, it still probably has a few hours left in it. But, in the dream, it needed to go, so I opened my bag - and it was distinctly a gym bag that I sometimes use as an overnight bag for short stays. If I'm gone for one night, my backpack "diaper bag" is usually sufficient, but if I need a couple of changes of clothes, more diapers, and now, my lined plastic pants with me, then I have to move up a bag size category. Inside the bag was a large plastic disposable diaper of my mind's invention: it was a light teal green colour, but it had fine multicoloured spirals running along the cover, lengthwise, in red, yellow, and darker green, and it had two wider spirals in white, that ran along the edges of the diaper's longitudinal fold points. However, there was a problem - when I pulled the diaper out of the bag, it had an L-shaped tear in the the cover, and in my dream, I concluded that it had been poked by the square end of a hockey stick, although the bag was way too small to have a hockey stick in it, and it's not like I ever travel for hockey. A diaper being assaulted by a golf club, I could see, although not in that bag, but I haven't packed a hockey stick for a trip, ever, really - I played a bit as a kid, but not on an organized team. I then decided that I was going to have to find some duct tape, and fix it, since it was the only diaper I had with me, and at that point, I was suddenly in a hotel room, and I knew that there would be no such hardware there, so I would have to go down to the front desk, and possibly ask to see the maintenance person, unless they happened to have a roll behind the desk. I was thinking, "Aw, geez, I'm going to have to go down to the lobby with this diaper in my hand... how's that going to work...?", and then I woke up. In the light of the morning, with my brain running on all cylinders, I can think of a number of solutions to that problem, including probably telling them I need to repair a bag, or secure the bottom of a box - anything, really, other than "So, I have a tear in my big ABDL diaper, here, take a look...", but in the dream, it was a point of stress. I also felt like I had to be somewhere - I had to get ready to go, I didn't have all morning to solve this problem. In other news, I got into a light-hearted argument with my wife last night; I got home from a local work dinner fairly late, and I had to get up early this morning, again for work, so I was asking politely if she could conduct her usual wind-down routine involving watching people of British descent bake things, in the living room or guest room or wherever, just not in our room, as I wanted to take a shower, and then go to bed. I asked this, while wearing my work shirt, and a Tranquility ATN that was overdue for retirement - I'd just dropped my work pants in our room, when she came upstairs, and was standing in the hall right outside our room, talking to our daughter, who was in her bathroom. So, I said, "I'm going to shut it down more or less immediately after my shower - maybe you guys could have this meeting elsewhere? Go watch scones being made, in one of the rooms with a door?" She said, "Don't worry, diaper pants, we won't disturb baby's sleep..." It was said lightheartedly, but still... touché. Although I didn't exactly have a leg to stand (or crawl...) on, because my plan was to bin my current diaper, take a shower, get into another diaper, get my pacifier, and go to bed. If I had scheduled a bubble bath, the picture would have been complete... -
I have fantasized about this happening to me, and different variations of this, thank you for turning it into something that is so fun to read.
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