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Les Lea

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Les Lea last won the day on August 28

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  1. Crinkle 1-3

    Part 3 Ryan slowly woke up; his favourite pants now feeling hot and sweaty as they clung heavily around his waist. The plastic material had created a little ‘sweat-room’ and he could feel his skin sliding against the slippery shield. The crinkle was dulled. He much preferred it when it was loud and vibrant but at that moment there was just a soft rustling sound to his movements. Still, this wasn’t without its charm. However, he preferred to have his nappy between him and the pants but first he’d have to clean them up. He waddled to the bathroom, the sensation playing excitedly with his sweaty balls and half-hard dick. The shower was a relief. He cleaned himself and the pants and dried both. However, it was time for work so, the question was; should he wear them to the office? He gave it about a minute’s thought before rejecting the idea. It wasn’t that he’d be too embarrassed (you should see some of the things his computer nerd colleagues wore) it was more that he didn’t think it would make a scrap of difference. If his mother had known his secret for years, there was a good chance he was only fooling himself and that everyone already knew… and worse still, simply weren’t bothered. How would he feel drawing attention to himself only to find that no one could care less? He slipped into a comforting disposable and pulled up his trousers. That would have to do for today he thought but tonight, he and his mum were going to have some FUN. +++++++++ Whilst Ryan was at the office his mother had decided she’d also get to work and sort a few things out for herself. The first thing to do was find out a bit more about her son’s likes and dislikes, so, she opened up his computer. Thankfully, the password had not been difficult to crack. Sitting at the side of the laptop was her son’s teddy bear ‘Oscar’ who had been his constant companion since he was a baby. It still looked over everything he did and was sat, as if on guard, watching (with that empty, glass-eyed stare) over its owner’s domain… alas, the password of OSCAR24 was just too obvious. If that bear could talk, Ryan’s mother thought, what secrets could it tell? The first page she saw was for the online store where Ryan bought those crinkly pants and she marvelled at the range of rather stunning items that were for sale. A couple of hours and with a few clicks here and there she’d been able get all she wanted. Later, she went out and purchased a few items of her own. She wanted her son to know how much she cared and how much she wanted to help. At the back of her mind there were niggling doubts about certain aspects to all this. Should she be encouraging him? Should she just leave him to it… not get involved? Should she actually be enjoying the fact that her son liked to dress up as a toddler? An uncomfortable shiver ran down her back but she shook it off and reminded herself that Ryan’s happiness was all that mattered… and… if… by coincidence… it made her happy… so what? She’d noticed the packs of disposables before, when she’d put away some of her son’s freshly ironed clothes but hadn’t commented. However, this meant that he was already equipped to slip into his baby or toddler desires. His crinkly pants were now quite brazenly left out, hooked over the bottom bedpost and waiting for their owner’s return. His mother fondled them with perhaps more interest than was necessary but she was impressed, as only a mother could be, that her son was investing his money in well-made products. As she held them up to the light for further inspection she let out a girlish giggle herself at the cartoon birds and butterfly motif, the loud crinkle that had set things in motion also made her smile. ++++++++++ For Ryan work appeared more boring today. Up until last night he had loved having his ‘little secret’. To him it made him different to all the others in the office and he liked that. Even though he was comfortably wrapped in one of his thick disposables, which was hugging his bum and thighs like a pair of underpants just couldn’t achieve, it wasn’t as special as it used to be. Maybe he should have worn his crinkly pants - although maybe that would have been a step just too far. Now he’d reasoned that everyone probably knew, and weren’t interested, the thrill of possible discovery no longer existed. More so, now his mum knew there was little point in trying to pretend anymore but hoped that his home life hadn’t been compromised in any way. His mum had said that she was OK with it all and he wondered, even though he hoped for some kind of fun (perhaps he’d wear his crinkly pants to dinner one night), she still offered her support and that he wouldn’t have to find somewhere else to live. For a number of years, and certainly since he started work, wearing his nappies, which he’d bought himself, had given him immeasurable pleasure. Knowing he had the desire, yet trying to deny those feelings, had messed him up in some ways. He knew, after his father’s death, that he was the man of the house but that was the last thing he wanted. Not that his mother put any pressure on him, no he was quite capable of doing that himself. Although, once his mum had pulled that last nappy from under him and said that from that moment on he was to wear ‘big boy’ pants, he knew things would never be the same and he’d have to grow up. Being at work and occasionally wearing his nappy had given him a boost. It had given him confidence even if its discovery might have led to embarrassment. He walked tall and, with his manly bits and pieces snuggly contained in their soft comfy wrap, he was able to cope with anything. He’d got this reputation as a solitary figure but one who came up with incredible ideas and solutions to problems. Often, when complications occurred at work, it was to him that the staff looked to sort it out, which he often did, without seeking any show of approval. He was a bit of an enigma to some, a sorter of problems to others and a nice if undemonstrative bloke to nearly everyone. However, for better or for worse, Ryan’s life was about to see a change. +++++++++++ Ryan arrived home soaked through and not because of a sudden downpour. The journey from work had been very annoying, there had been a pile-up on the main road and the traffic was delayed for ages. He arrived home late to find his mother looking worried at what might have happened to him and all because he’d forgotten to re-charge his phone and the thing had gone dead… just when he’d needed it. “Sorry mum. Phone died and an accident on the main road.” He shrugged his shoulders and thankfully his mother looked relieved to have him home unscathed. She noticed the slight damp patch on his trouser front. “Another accident?” She said pointing at the problem and smiled. Yesterday, this would have been an embarrassing problem but now, it was just embarrassing as he told his mum he’d been dying for a piss all the time the traffic was held up. “Wee or wee-wee if you don’t mind… I don’t want to hear rude words from my baby’s lips if you don’t mind.” Strangely a shiver ran down Ryan’s spine. He was being told off… like a child… but in such a way that seemed to make sense. He nodded he understood and then carried on with the story of his mishap. Eventually, he could hold it no longer and realising he was already equipped for dealing with such a problem (he gave a little chuckle as he remembered the moment), he let go. “It was such a relief,” his eyes lit up as he remembered, “I felt so much happier sitting in traffic knowing my bladder wasn’t going to burst.” His mum smiled and nodded in agreement. “You see… these things happen for a reason…” She didn’t expand on what exactly that reason was. “OK, I’ll have dinner on the table in ten minutes if you want to go and change.” He looked down at the damp patch and became aware, thanks to the vivid bulky outline at his crotch, of just how much the disposable had expanded. He thought it felt quite nice and snug but his mother was correct, he needed to change, he couldn’t sit around dressed like that. Up in his bedroom there was a surprise; his mother had laid out on his bed a fresh disposable, his crinkly pants, a t-shirt, a soft fleecy blanket, a teddy bear and a little note that read: MUMMY LOVES HER SWEET LITTLE BABY BOY. He was a little confused. Surely his mother, as supportive as she said she’d be, didn’t expect him to wear these things around the house. But what other explanation could there be? Normally she just made his bed and that’s that. She might put away some freshly washed and ironed clothes but in general, she had nothing to do with what went on in the privacy of his room. This was like she was making a statement: Not only was she okay with his desire to wear a nappy, she was encouraging him to wear one all the time and around the house… she really didn’t mind. As he stripped out of his work clothes he wasn’t sure if he liked this development or not. When he was down to just his soaked underwear he looked in the mirror and saw looking back a man who appeared younger, innocent, fun and cuddly and decided he wanted that to continue. ++++tbc++++
  2. Crinkle 1-3

    Part 2 As his mother rocked and soothed him in her loving embrace, the sobs that were growing in his chest were replaced by feelings of gratitude. His mother hadn’t gone berserk, far from it, she’d seemed understanding and… and… and sympathetic to his ‘situation’. His mind, which had been racing to find excuses, make up reasons, answer those difficult questions that such a revelation was sure to bring, suddenly disappeared as the calming influence of his mother’s gentle rocking produced a different sensation. He’d forgotten just how enjoyable it was to snuggle: It was safe, it was secure it was… nice. She patted the silky, crinkly bulk wrapped around her son and was immediately transported back to the time when this was a regular occurrence. He was always a loving child and even before his father had died, the family loved to hug and cuddle. After that fateful event, mother and son drew closer finding comfort and security with each other. However, as he got older the intimacy had to change. She desperately wanted him not to grow up being a ‘mummy’s boy’, he needed to be able to look after himself. She wasn’t a clinging mother, she knew when to cut those apron strings but, oh how she missed her baby. There had been so many times when Ryan would be up in his room and she knew he was wearing his nappy. It was his little ‘secret’, one he didn’t want to share with her. Although she was desperate to say something, to tell him it was OK. She worried that her knowing might stop him from doing something he obviously wanted to do and she didn’t want to take that away. But now? She thought the loud ‘crinkle’ sound was his way of inviting her in, to be part of his secret, one he was happy to share and more importantly, be comfortable with. Was she wrong? ++++++ Ryan didn’t want this feeling to change. He knew that at 24 years-old he should be over this need, this desire, to feel safe in his nappy, to love his mother’s embrace, to enjoy his moments of simply being ‘little’ again. In his head it was an escape, an escape he felt guilty about, although that hadn’t stopped him buying nappies, disposables and other items when he needed them. He had no idea why but recently that desire had grown stronger. He wasn’t overly stressed at work. In fact, he found that both easy and satisfying, no there must be some other reason… why else would he have bought these super noisy pants? “Mum” “Yes darling, mummy’s here,” she continued to stroke his hair and hug him tightly. “Err, mummy,” his voice was low. He didn’t want to change this dynamic. He felt safe and contented in her care. “Mummy, did you know?” “Yes sweetheart. I’ve known since the very beginning.” “Why did you never say anything?” His voice was almost childlike. “Because it was yours… something that you wanted… if you had wanted to share it with me I would…” she corrected herself, “I am… fine with it.” The hug got tighter. “Ryan, you’re old enough to know your own mind but if you… if you need something … something that makes you happy… well…” “Don’t you think it’s weird?” “Where’s the harm? Who are you hurting? Who needs to know? It’s OK to have secrets, even from me, I don’t mind but if you are unhappy about the situation it’s up to you to change it. That’s why I thought these noisy,” and she rubbed her hand across his silky bottom and smiled at the slight crinkly noise they made, “I thought you’d decided you wanted me to… notice.” He was enjoying having his bottom stroked by his loving mother and snuggled in closer. “I think that I did. I don’t know why I suddenly decided to ‘announce’ that I liked to wear nappies but… I guess… I must have done.” She patted his padded bundle of babyness. “Ryan, I love you and… you can wear what you like when you like as far as I am concerned. You can tell the world if that’s what you want to do and I will support you.” She looked into his damp eyes and finished her little speech. “You are all that matters to me and if you want to be a baby….” “I like being little mummy.” He coyly interrupted. “If you like being ‘little’… only at home then I am happy as well. I will help in any way I can… what do you want?” Ryan began to think – what exactly did he want? +++++++ Without being aware he was doing so, he sucked on his thumb and gave it some thought. It had been over two hours since his mother had left him to go to her own room to sleep but in that time, he was positive he’d have an answer to his mum’s question, “What do you want?” Alas, no new revelations had entered his head simply because of the way his pants gave him an accompaniment to his every move. Crinkle. He curled up. Crinkle. He stretched out. Crinkle. He rolled over. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. He was more involved in the noises he was making than with answering the question but rustling around in his bed had proved one thing; the company who made his pants were not lying when they said ‘Make some noise.’ He pulled off his protecting pants and gently rubbed the soft satin against his cheek. He loved the fabric with butterflies and birds and was pretty impressed by the thick crinkly plastic waterproof innards. He slowly ran the two different materials over his body and shuddered in delight at the experience. He removed his nappy and slid the pants across his genitals, which instantly reacted. The velvety ‘butterfly’ kisses as he touched each part of his body delivered shivers of sensuality and excitement to his already over-burdened brain. His orgasm had never been so powerful. He lay there exhausted, his chest covered in the explosive aftermath and he could barely find the strength to pull his precious pants up his thighs to cover his leaking penis. The awareness that there was now a sticky dimension to each crinkle drifted into his dreams as he slipped into contented unconsciousness. ++++tbc++++
  3. Crinkle 1-3

    Crinkle Part 1 He loved that sound as he moved. That tell-tale ‘crinkle’ that announced to those in the know just what it was he was wearing. They were a new acquisition. The online firm had been very specific that this particular piece of protection was very noisy. Up until he saw the colourful image of butterflies and birds festooned all over the satin briefs, he had never really wanted anything that might draw attention to his ‘slight’ fetish. He was happy for those in the know to be one – him. He wasn’t interested in having DL friends. He wasn’t interested in being babied, all he wanted was that comfort he felt when he wore his nappy and the joy it gave him putting it on and taking it off. However, the online firm he bought his little ‘bits and pieces’ from had launched a new ‘noisy’ range and the photo of this particular pair of waterproof pants had attracted his attention. MAKE SOME NOISE said the headline for the range, and there had been a fair few pairs of pants that he would have been happy to buy but it was this, rather cute, childish and sweet design that appeared to have made the biggest impression. They must have done because for almost a week before he bought them they were occupying his dreams, both night and day. Eventually, the obsession needed to be satisfied so, via PayPal, he made the purchase and waited impatiently for them to be delivered. ++ The impatience didn’t last long because within two days a brown package arrived at his home where, as he was out at work, his mother signed for them. She squeezed the package as she took possession from the mailman and liked the soft feel and the muted crinkle she heard as she did so. She smiled to herself and assumed her boy was treating himself again. Good for him, she thought, he should have other interests beside computers and work. Her son Ryan was 24, slim, nice-looking (she always said he was the handsomest and cutest baby) but a bit of a loner. Her husband Jeff had died in an accident at work when Ryan was 4 years-old so for the past twenty years it had just been the two of them together. The insurance had made it so she was well compensated for her loss and the fact that her son seemed more than happy to live at home had made her content with life. Mother and son spent a lot of time together and socialised (if that was the correct term for the few friends that they bothered to see) and even went on vacation together hardly ever inviting others into their tight band of two. Despite Ryan feeling his ‘fetish’ was only know by him, his mother had known about it for a long time. In fact, she remembered the time it took to get him out of nappies and how much her son of 9 had cried when he was made to wear only his pyjamas when he went to bed instead of the protection he’d happily worn up until then; his mum eventually convincing him to be grown-up, even if she had a secret longing for him to stay forever her baby. Of course for a mother all children remain their babies… no matter how old they get and Ryan, well Ryan had found his own way to satisfy something he needed. She was happy about this but didn’t want to be seen obviously condoning it because she knew that he thought his secret was just that… a secret. However, she had a secret of her own and that was she knew Ryan wore his nappies to sleep in and had noticed he occasionally went to work wearing his padding. It was at those times she just wanted to ‘mother’ him and return to those days when she looked after every aspect of his life. But, she was of the opinion that she would only do so if and when her son asked her to. She didn’t want to provoke any reaction that might somehow make things awkward at home. She liked her son being with her and would hate for him to feel she had driven him away because of something she wanted. No, the best thing was to support her son when it was needed but in the meantime, enjoy her memories of when he was young… though she could add those images that ran around her head of him sucking his thumb and wearing his nappy now. +++ He walked up and down his bedroom knowing that no one else would know what he was wearing but rather pleased about what he could hear. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. Over the years he’d kept this secret he’d had no desire to broadcast it to anyone else but, and this was the part he really wondered about, this new possession, this stunning pair of satin and plastic protection, gave him a whole new insight to his fixation. The nappies had been wonderful; comfortable, soft, bulky and held happy memories for him. The plastic pants had been a later addition; one that seemed to set off his nappy and give it a new, smooth, sensual aura that he suddenly craved. These new pants had been that step further; an acknowledgement of his own desires (even if he was only admitting it to himself) with that audible response to each step he took. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. He thought this was a bold step, although he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t a brave man and couldn’t see himself wandering down the road ‘rustling and crinkling’ till heart’s content but the fact that he had picked up the nerve to buy them, he thought, must mean something. He looked in the mirror. Naked apart from his thick nappy and beautiful silky covering he was amazed at how spectacular and wonderful it all looked. He moved slightly… crinkle… he moved again… crinkle… he was looking forward to sleeping in his new noisy protection. In fact, he might have an early night so he could enjoy the strange and electric sensations that were coursing through his body. Just as he was about to shout down to his mother (who he presumed would be downstairs watching the TV) unannounced she walked in to his room. ++++ An ice-cold feeling of panic coursed through his body. This was the first time his mother had seen him dressed in such a way since he was a child. The smile on her face wasn’t noticed as he screamed angrily at her to “Get Out”. “Get out, get out, GET OUT.” Despite his harsh words terror rooted him to the spot, his slim naked frame only highlighting his padded outline but his mum wasn’t to be put off. “Ryan it’s alright I…” But Ryan shook his head and screamed more, “Get out, GET OUT.” The feeling of wellbeing that had encompassed his body and mind just a few moments earlier were now transformed into anger and guilt… he shivered at those very guilty feelings. His mum stepped forward to comfort her irate son but he stepped away, trying to hide his embarrassment and push her away at the same time. “Don’t worry Ryan… it’s going to be OK… I…” Again he pushed his mother towards the door, tears beginning to form in his eyes, but at that moment fury conquered his guilt as he spat those words once more. “GET OOOOOUUUUTTTT”. His mother’s beseeching hands held out in comfort were rejected amid her son’s confusion and terrified shame. He screamed at her but this time his mum would have none of it. She grabbed him by the arms, spun him around and landed three quick slaps to his padded bottom. He would have hardly felt a thing but was so surprised by this that he immediately stopped screaming. His mother sensing the change of mood stormed in. “Don’t you ever,” spank, “raise” spank, “your voice” spank, “to your mother” spank, “again.” She knew her actions would have caught him off guard and pressed this slight advantage. “Ryan Gatland… do you understand?” and she raised her hand as if threatening to repeat the spanking. “Yes,” his voice was almost inaudible. “Yes what?” His mum pursued her point with another slap. Through sniffles he told her the words she insisted on hearing. “I will not shout at mum… mummy.” She hugged him close to her chest and smoothed her son’s hair. “That’s right. Mummy is always here for her little baby boy… no matter what.” She hugged and kissed his head more. “No matter what…” she quietly repeated. +++tbc+++
  4. Drippy Diaper

    Drippy Diaper It was summer and the day had been wonderfully hot, one of the few as I remember. I'd spent the entire day on my own wandering around the countryside near my home wearing only a t-shirt and shorts. A lot of that time was spent on various grassy knolls, stripped to my diaper, enjoying the heat. To me, there is little else finer than lying out getting a tan, relaxing, looking at the clouds and being gently wafted by a warm breeze. As the day progressed the heat got more oppressive and the sweat turned my light disposable into a sponge. However, as the almost clear blue sky began to accumulate more cloud and the atmosphere was getting heavier, I could tell we were heading for a downpour before the end of the day. As day turned to early evening, the clouds had become dark and menacing but still nothing had happened to dispel the humid and clammy feel of the oppressive conditions. I visited a fellow diaper loving friend at his place and we sat in his outhouse overlooking the back garden; windows and doors wide open in the hope of catching any passing breeze. We sweated in our shorts and t-shirts trying to keep cool with supplies of ice cool beer from the fridge. It was too hot to actually be doing anything - even talking seemed quite an effort, when the first tell-tale splash announced itself. This was followed immediately by a few other large spots making even bigger splashes and noise on the glass roof. Five seconds later the heavens opened up and a great deluge just streamed from the sky. Almost at the same time a frightening white flash and horrendous crack of thunder announced that a storm had gathered over the house. It was scary and exhilarating, as flash after flash lit up the garden, complete with its thunderous accompaniment. My fellow diaper lover suggested we strip off and stand naked in the rain to cool down. We pulled off our t-shirts and shorts but before he could remove his diaper I pushed him outside into the raging torrent. Although at first his disposable seemed to resist the downpour… in a matter of seconds it was soaked and swollen. However, this didn’t seem to worry him as he rushed to the centre of the garden with his arms outstretched and let the rain beat down on him. It was like a scene from the movies; the contrast between his tanned body and white diaper, drenched but smiling up to the heavens, well, the overall image was just superb. I pulled off my shorts and stripped to my diaper and thought, fuck the lightning; that looks like fun. We stood side by side as the giant-sized, warm droplets pummelled our bodies. The force of the storm didn't seem to be easing and already a stream was flowing from the top of the garden, carrying leaves and soil down the slight incline into the now waterlogged flowerbed. As the thunder cracked around us we screamed in exhilaration and shouted our vocal appreciating to the non-stop noise. We were having ‘scary’ fun. He had his eyes closed and was slowly spinning with his arms outstretched and I couldn’t resist the sudden urge I got to pull down his diaper. However, just as I was going in for the killer move he opened his eyes and discerned what I was about to do. He blocked my move and countered with one of his own and before long we were writhing on the ground tickling and grabbing each others bodies. We wrestled in the rain trying to gain some kind of slippery advantage but we were well matched. The rain began to ease and our diapers were in a terrible state stuck with leaves, grass, soil and who knew what else. We looked up and saw his young neighbour smiling at us from his bedroom window, a look of gratitude on his face. Although we both felt a bit embarrassed about our antics, I suppose like most teenager boys he'd taken himself in hand whilst he watched our homage to the rain. We got up to go back in the house but he wanted the last ‘word’. He attempted to pull down my soaked diaper to give the neighbour even more to think about but, like him, I realised just what he was about to do. I spun around to exact some kind of reprisal and in doing so lost my footing on the greasy wet grass. I slid sideways all the way down the slippery incline on my arse and ended up in the muddy pool that used to be the flowerbed. The mucky water lapped around my groin, the heat from the ground had warmed it up and I was getting pleasantly excited from the surprisingly sensuous feel of my muddy situation. I called out to my friend to come and join me but he was already convulsed with laughter at my inelegant journey down the garden. After a few moments off splashing in the mud I got up and my bloated white diaper had turned an unpleasant murky grey. It could soak up no more liquid and the excess just trickled off and ran down my mud-flecked legs. My friend had decided that I, and my dirty drippy diaper, needed to stay outside for a while longer so he locked the door and wouldn’t let me in. The storm had passed, the clouds were breaking up and the final few rays of the day were making an appearance giving the garden a lovely fresh and invigorated quality. I returned to its centre, opened my arms as wide as I could, closed my eyes and let the sun dry me off. As the heat rose my sagging diaper disintegrated but I just stood there naked thinking what a great day it had been. When I opened my eyes again I noticed that my friend had returned with a hose, a towel, soap and various powders and lotions, while on the chair arm I could see he’d brought a fresh, clean, pristine white terry cloth diapers… so I guessed, the evening was going to be equally wonderful as well. ******end******
  5. Steve's Story Part 1-2 (end)

    Part 2 Up in their room Stevie was subjected to a long lecture from his father who, whilst changing him insisting that he would, for the foreseeable future, wear only his diaper as punishment for the wicked abuse towards his mother. Once he was all clean and wrapped in a new disposable he hugged his son, told him how much he loved him but would not put up with such ‘feral’ conduct. Stevie realised he’d been in the wrong and had his eyes cast to the floor all the way through his father’s speech, he knew there was no point in trying to reason or argue because he’d brought this on himself. He also knew that if he just went along with it, the sooner it was started then the sooner he hoped the punishment would be over. After all, they were going to be at the hotel for two weeks and he desperately didn’t want to remain in diapers for that entire time. * Their room was huge. Well it was three rooms really, a living area and a large double bedroom for mum and dad, which, separated by a bathroom, led through to a smaller bedroom with two single beds for Stevie and Eva. Not only that but they had a fantastic balcony which overlooked the pool and the beach could be seen between the palm trees. The view cheered everyone up, even Stevie’s spirits rose as they unpacked a couple of towels and headed down to the pool. Unfortunately, Thomas had told Stevie that there would be no swimming for him as he was still being punished, but the rest of the family were dressed for fun. Meanwhile, with a resigned sigh, his mother slipped a pair of see-thru plastic pants over his diaper as water-proofing and then led her brood down to the poolside. Thomas was teaching his daughter to swim and Stevie sat with his mother on a sun-lounger embarrassed but knew there was nothing he could do about it. He became a focal point for some kids of all ages who passed by, some made it obvious they were staring at him, whilst others giggled and commented on the ‘big baby’. His mother rubbed suntan lotion into his back so that he could just lie out and pretend to be asleep. However, he heard every comment that was made and his plastic covered diapered bottom attracted attention from kids and parents alike. Stevie knew this was going to be a very long holiday if he couldn’t get his father to change the punishment, or at least give him his shorts back, and resolved to do something he’d never done before, sincerely apologise. In the past he’d apologised for his behaviour only when he had no choice, and often through tears, but this time he decided, he would talk to his father, mother and sister when he wasn’t under any such obligation, admit his faults and failings, agree that the punishment was just but hoped he would be forgiven. This was a bold move on his part and showed a remarkable amount of maturity to come up with such a plan. * So, just before he and Eva were being put to bed (when he was in diapers he had to go at the same time as his six year-old sister) and dressed in his ultra-thick night time protection, he begged for forgiveness, admitted those failings and promised that he would be no further trouble for the rest of their vacation. Both his parents smiled at this admission and in truth were quite impressed by his action. However, they weren’t so easily persuaded and the punishment would continue, for the time being at least. He kissed his parents goodnight and, once they’d patted his bulky little padded bottom, he slowly waddled off to bed. He knew he could do no more but hoped that they would discuss what he’d said and somehow come up with a different plan than diapers. However, the strange thing was, now he had to wear them he actually didn’t mind. They were very embarrassing when out and about in the daytime but now in bed there was something comforting, protecting and pleasurable about having that much soft fabric surrounding his genitals. He fell asleep gently stroking the bundle beneath his plastic pants. * Stevie woke up and saw that Eva was already playing with her doll on her bed. He couldn’t hear if his parents were up so lay there wondering if they’d thought over his little speech and, more to the point, had it made any difference? Meanwhile, the curtains in the room looked like they were keeping out a wonderful day so he got up to pull them back, it was then he realised he’d done something he hadn’t done for many years, he’d really wet himself during his sleep. The disaster had only become apparent once he’d moved but now he was up he could see the full horror of his nocturnal mishap. The disposable was soaked and his plastic pants had expanded with the amount of pee let loose. Eva, dressed in her little princess nightie, was wondering why her brother should be walking in such a strange way. His waddle and self-disgust was emphasised even more when his mother entered the bedroom and he just stood there on the verge of tears unable to think of an excuse. * Although surprised, his mother hugged her son, told him not to worry as accidents happen and that she’d sort him out once she had Eva dressed. In fact it only took a few minutes to get Eva ready as they had planned a day on the beach so all she needed was to be out of her nightie, a quick wash and into her princess bathing costume. She ran into the living room to ask her daddy if Princess Chloe (her doll) could go to the beach with them. For now, a mortified Stevie sobbed in complete and utter devastation. Any high ground he thought he might have gained drooped along with his diaper as his mother gently eased her son from his night time calamity. He, desperate to hold back the tears, just let his mother get on with what she had to do, there was absolutely no point in trying to defend his grown-up status, as the soggy mess flopped to the bathroom floor. To make matters worse, his father came in to help. It was the last thing Stevie needed but his dad had said that Eva needed help with something that only mother could sort out so they changed places. Stevie was desperately trying to hold back the grief he felt but was unsuccessful. Meanwhile his father turned on the shower, soaped his boy up and gave him a thorough wash. Once dry Stevie had hoped that his humiliation would have been enough for him to resume normal clothes, especially the neat baggy, though trendy, shorts he’d recently been bought. * Alas, he saw that is father was unfurling a disposable and sighed as the lotion and powder were applied before he was snuggly fitted with his daywear. Thinking of his own ‘accident’ prone days his father said, “You are not being punished for having an accident last night, it can happen to anyone.” He didn’t explain any further but his mind was churning with thoughts of those past wet mornings. “But you are still responsible for what you said to your mother at the gas station.” Stevie nodded, there was little else he could do. “So, that punishment remains but your mother and I have taken on-board what you said last night and we admire your honesty and your admission…” Quiet though it might have been Stevie found his voice, “Yes dad, I’m really, really sorry.” His father hugged him but he was determined his son must face the consequences of his action, and he knew the penalty for such behaviour. “For the time being at least you will wear only your diaper and plastic pants around the hotel.” He looked Stevie steely in the eye, “You’ll be on the best behaviour you have ever been and you will be responsible for looking after Eva and making sure she has a wonderful time on this vacation. Are we clear?” He had no option, “Yes dad, sorry dad but please, please can I have my shorts back…” he begged, “even those really short ones I...” “Not this time Stevie. You need to learn and this will be a constant reminder. However, your diaper will be this…” and he unfurled a rather slim looking thing, “and you’ll wear these over the top.” Again he produced from seemingly nowhere a pair of pale blue studded plastic pants that held it all together tightly. “Once you are fastened into these, they will just look like shiny shorts but there will be less bulk than usual.” At least it was an improvement and as he looked in the mirror he saw that the look wasn’t as bad as wearing just a thick diaper. “However, and this isn’t up for argument, night times you’ll be wearing protection.” He saw his son heave a sigh. “I can’t let you possibly wet the hotels bed and until we’re sure you can be dry for a few days at least, that’s what you’ll be wearing.” Stevie wasn’t happy but he was happier than he thought he’d be. He desperately wanted his shorts back but, as that wasn’t going to happen, what he had to wear was the lesser evil. He could cope with night time diapers but he wanted out of his daytime protection as soon as possible so he agreed and thanked his father for being so understanding. * After breakfast, in the hotel restaurant where his latest diaperwear hardly caused any reaction, Stevie was given the task of looking after Eva who had decided she wanted to go to the hotel’s well equipped children’s play area. At least he’d be away from the older boys and girls who had ridiculed him the previous day and he thought he’d probably get very little trouble from toddlers and their parents. He was correct, his shiny protection once again hardly raising an eyebrow. In fact, if anything, he was greeted with smiles from the parents and tiny groping hands wanting to feel his diaper from the toddlers, neither of which gave him any problems. When kids asked why he was wearing protection he just said he needed it because he still wet occasionally. Apparently, telling the truth to youngsters wasn’t a problem as they accepted what he said and got on with their own fun and games. Playing with Eva and a bunch of her newly made friends was proving to be fun and he soon forgot about his diapers and happily engaged in all their games. Although he was way too young to sit and watch like their parents and too old to play on certain pieces of apparatus he was very attentive to Eva. However, where he could he’d immerse himself in their childish games, much to the approval and admiration of the watching mums and dads. Stevie didn’t know it but each parent was judging their own children’s behaviour against his and he was coming out as some kind of angel. His patience and understanding with the youngsters had each parent wishing their teenagers were like Stevie. Those parents let their thoughts wander, if they put their self-important, unthinking child back in diapers, perhaps they could get a nice, thoughtful son or daughter back? It was a possibility Stevie had set in motion; a change in relationships between some families that he just could not have foreseen. * As he was on his way back to meet up with his parents, holding Eva’s hand and guiding her through the masses of people, a group of older teenagers ambushed Stevie and jeering, pushed him into the pool. His father had forbidden him to do anything other than look after his sister but this was not something he had any control over. The group of older kids stood at the poolside tormenting and mocking Stevie, calling him baby names and generally trying to ridicule him. Stevie was only pleased that Eva hadn’t been pushed in with him but he could see she was scared and crying because of this abusive group of young thugs. Every time he tried to get out the eldest one of the gang, a ginger-haired ruffian called Alex, kept up a verbal assault while pushing him back into the pool. The taunting didn’t last for too long as one of the parents from the children’s play area, a young fit man in his twenties, collared the ringleader and made him apologise. Alex thought he was on safe ground to tell the young parent where to go but his attitude soon changed when he saw his father, a hulk of a man himself, bearing down on him. He assumed his dad would be on his side but to the satisfaction of everyone but the boy, his father grabbed him, made him apologise to Stevie and help him out of the water. Stevie’s disposable had soaked up half the pool so it was no longer a hardly noticeable diaper as the plastic pants had ballooned out trying to contain the thing. Stevie stood at the side of the pool trying to console his sister and managed to get her smiling again when he made a joke about how huge his diaper had become. Alex’s father asked where Stevie and Eva’s parents were and followed them to explain and apologise for his son’s behaviour. Alex was not happy about this turn of events but his father made him explain why he thought he was allowed to make fun of Stevie. Alex mumbled something about him looking like a little baby but his father merely asked if he felt that it was OK to abuse a baby. Alex looked mighty guilty and said “No” in perhaps the quietest voice he’d used in many years. * His father asked Thomas if he was going to change Stevie out of his wet diaper and if he was, would it be OK, if they had any spare, for him to diaper his son at the same time. Alex looked dumbfounded at such a suggestion but at the threat of a severe beating, and the prospect of still having to wear a diaper, Alex didn’t voice too much opposition. Perhaps that was partly due to the fact that he’d been a menace the entire vacation and was constantly bullying other children. His father had warned him time and time again but with no improvement in his conduct. He saw this as an opportunity to put an end to his son’s anti-social activities once and for all and this seemed a good way to emphasise the point. If he thought it was OK to pick on others who dressed differently then he would dress the same and see how he liked it. Obviously, Alex had been spanked by his father in the past and was not wishing to relive the experience. So, cowed in front of his friends, Alex followed Stevie up to their room to be changed. Ten minutes later and Stevie was back at the side of the pool wearing his thin disposable and blue plastic pants. Alex was wearing one of his victim’s very thick night time diapers and nothing else. His father had made the condition for him getting his pants back – “When he stopped behaving like a spoilt brat and acted responsibly”. Alex was very sullen as he sat by the side of his parents blushing at every man, woman and child who suddenly found it interesting to walk by and gawp at this bully’s comeuppance. * On seeing Alex’s treatment at the hands of his father there was a sudden improvement in quite a few of the other teen’s behaviour. In fact, the shop in the hotel sold out of various sized diapers (they only carried a limited number of packs) as parents equipped themselves for if and when their kids acted up. Over the next couple of days it wasn’t just Stevie or Alex who found they were wearing nothing but diapers in public. A few other boys and girls, both teens and pre-teens, appeared a little shaken and submissive as they were paraded similarly attired. One girl was made to suck on a pacifier all the time and the general, youthful exuberance you’d expect from a hotel full of noisy kids was kept to a tolerable level. Parents, it appeared, had taken back control and would no longer put up with any appalling manners from their offspring. * Two days later and Stevie was wearing normal underwear under his fabulous new baggie shorts. It would have been so easy for him to get his own back on those who had ridiculed him but who were now themselves reduced to just diapers but he wasn’t that stupid. He knew that if he misbehaved that he would quickly find himself back to being treated as a naughty kid again and that involved diapers and plastic pants. However, he had, despite a couple of dry nights, volunteered to be diapered for bed. Of course he hadn’t admitted it to his parents but he liked how he felt when he went to bed all snuggly protected. Although he had liked it when his mother or father had changed him he thought he’d be ‘grown up’ and offered to diaper himself on a night. His parents agreed and the family had a fantastic vacation, possibly the best they’d ever had. With Stevie taking responsibility for Eva it gave his parents more time to themselves and as a consequence, he was constantly receiving praise from other parents because of the way he interacted with the young kids. However, barely concealed beneath the positive remarks were the thanks he got for showing them the benefits of diapering their unruly kids. Once back home Stevie continued with his self-diapering on a night. Neither of his parents objected to this little quirk. After all, his father would say to his wife, “We all have our own little idiosyncrasies”. ****TheEnd****
  6. 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
  7. Never More Content - Part 1-5 end

    Never More Content – Part 5 Epilogue Baby Robbie seemed to flourish in his new life. All the negative thoughts and actions had been banished from his mind and, under the supervision of his loving daddy, he spent his days at play with all his new friends. Despite the small, though constant, niggling worry at the back of Mark’s brain, his time had also never been happier. Looking after a toddler as cute, loving and as adventurous as Robbie was the most rewarding thing he’d ever accomplished in his life. Forget all the accolades, awards, certificates and degrees, they may have looked impressive on his office wall, but he knew his true value was in giving his baby boy all the love and attention he could. As a regressed two year-old Robbie loved everything and looked every bit the adorable kid he was as he ran around in his bulky diaper trying and experiencing new things. Although Mark loved to see that little cushioned bottom getting involved in games with his friends it was even nicer when he was curled up next to him as they watched TV together. He loved dressing up the little rascal. Early on, Paul had described to Mark how seeing Little Liam at play, wearing a thick, well-padded and stuffed diaper, had, for him at least, reinforced his childishness. He never wanted his little boy to lose that innocence; that visible packed diaper was the symbol of that virtue. He wanted it to be a constant reminder to all who saw Liam; the guiltless and unsophisticated world in which his little boy was now happily immersed. Mark took up this mandate and thought the same should apply to Robbie, so their thick and highly visible padded bottoms were the beacon for how little boys should always look. Having said that both had some lovely, cheerful, colourful clothes; occasionally Paul or Mark would buy matching outfits for them both because they looked so damn adorable together. Because he was taller, Liam looked like Robbie’s older brother but they still acted and looked like little tots as they scrambled around or made forts or fought intergalactic spacemen or… they never seemed at a loss for things to play and were constantly on the go. Sometimes, there bottoms, like the rest of them, would be covered in dirt or mud but thankfully, the plastic pants protected them from doing too much damage to their diapers. However, the boys always seemed to return to daddy messy and wet and a change would have to quickly be made so they could rush out and carry on with their games. It seemed incredible that there were so many other daddies and mommies with ‘littles’ of their own. Since the time the crèche was instigated almost 20 months ago, the demand for more and more places meant that their little company had to expand. Mark and Paul and the two retired nurses had built on that success and it had fast become a very strong and well organised business. Meanwhile, as the company swelled there was a little game that the two daddies liked to play between themselves… and that was to find the most adorable clothes for the charges to wear. In the early days colourful plastic pants were eagerly sought out for the boys but as time moved on so did the desire to put them in original designed onesies, specially made t-shirts, shortalls or shorts that emphasised the bulky diaper underneath. The boy’s wanted for nothing and always looked distinctive, colorful and pretty. Seeing the boy’s storming around in their latest fashion, was always a pleasure to the men, even though their clothes never seemed to be on for long before their daddies came up with another piece of exotic merchandise for them to dress up in. Other daddies and mommies joined in the fun as well… often treating their tots to some bizarre creations. It appeared that most adults liked to see their kids in original designs, so another company was set up to develop those ideas and concepts and turn them into reality. Sometimes the creation was so well-padded the little one could only crawl around as the bulky nature of the diaper between their legs was so vast they couldn’t walk. No matter how outrageous or challenging the design was, Mark and Paul found a group of ‘creators’ who took up the challenge to manufacture any new innovation. Mark’s favourite was a pale yellow rubber onesie that he’d had made especially for Robbie. He looked incredible in it and matched perfectly with the pale green leather onesie that Little Liam occasionally wore. Both had different coloured, though matching, plastic or rubber pants that emphasised the boy’s thick protection – though these outfits were only worn on special occasions. Mark loved his and Robbie’s evenings together the most. He loved the ritual of bathing his little boy. Splashing together in the bath, playing with rubber ducks, plastic ships and squirting toys made for a fun way to end the day. Mark had used a lotion to make sure that Robbie’s pubic hair would never return and, as he was permanently regressed, his little cock was always happily at peace. Massaging in the baby cream, powdering him and wrapping a nice thick diaper around his waist before pulling on a pair of leak-proof pants… was a magical routine he never tired of. As he kept telling Robbie, ‘little boy’s need all the protection they can get’, before finishing the procedure with a delightful onesie that fastened between the boy’s outstretched legs. A warm bottle of milk and always, a loving embrace completed the night time tradition. Mostly, Robbie slept in his own crib in his own room, which had been designed and decorated with cartoon scenes. Occasionally he’d sleep with daddy, who appreciated the little warm body lying next to his. The thick padding making sure that there were no accidents in the night, which Mark found equally as comforting when he hugged him tightly. Pressed up against little Robbie in this way was a pleasure beyond worth. He found peace and contentment having the little fellow wrapped safely in his arms, often causing him to quickly drift off into a deep and unperturbed sleep. The business was booming for all concerned. Its reputation was growing and there was quite a waiting list of people wanting to enrol their ‘little ones’. Indeed, so successful had the project become that some of the other daddies, who were very rich men indeed, wanted to invest in further developing the venture. Little boys and girls from all over the country wanted to come and play, which became a bit of a nightmare to try to organise for them all to attend. So, to begin with, and to ease the burden, the group who ran the crèche organised regular outings where everyone could join in. Sometimes it was just days out, at other times they would take over a villa or a camping ground that was for their exclusive use. Mark soon found himself extremely busy with his work as a much-in-demand psychologist, organising events for the expanding business and of course keeping Robbie happy. Soon a mail order company for the clothing, a web site, a full time vacation hotel, camping and caravan sites, were all added to the list of things that came under the banner of ‘Diaper Desires’, the name of the crèche and the company originally set up by the two doctors. It was terrific to see little ones from all over the world come together for unrestricted and non-judgemental activities in the company of so many other ‘littles’ like themselves. The success of the enterprise could have swamped both Paul and Mark but their love for their boys meant that everything was geared around them. They made sure that their tots were at the centre of everything that was done and that it was their needs, little though they were, that were uppermost in any planning. Robbie and Liam were completely unaware of the influence they had on the business. They were unaware that their thickly padded bottoms, loved so much by their daddies, had inspired and were copied by so many others. After only 19 months since baby Robbie had entered Mark’s world, the business inspired by him and his playmate Liam, had helped create an empire which seemed to grow more popular on an almost daily basis. One day they might have to grow up but at least for the foreseeable future Baby Robbie and Little Liam are staying just as sweet as they are... padded toddlers without a care in the world. ***************the end**************
  8. Never More Content - Part 1-5 end

    Warning: this chapter contains foul and abusive language. Never More Content – Part 4 Doctor Mark Thompson looked very officious when he arrived at Rob’s ex home. It was a messy, ill-kempt apartment in a very rundown tenement block. His knock was eventually answered by a woman who matched her surroundings perfectly; scruffy, drunk (at 10am), angry and annoyed at being disturbed by this “up himself doctor”. He could see why Rob had wanted to get away and the woman seemed not to care about herself, never mind her only child. Mark persevered with his questions but found the woman’s attitude very aggressive. She appeared to despise him for being a man and seemed only too glad to give someone else the responsibility of her “nasty little shit of a son”. Mark told her he needed her signature and his birth certificate to make things legal and after much argument she eventually found the required official registration of Rob’s birth in a tatty chocolate box under a pile of old photographs. The psychologist observed that there were a couple of shots that had a family of three looking toward the camera. They were smiling and appeared happy. The young, pretty woman was unmistakeably a version of the bloated, foul-mouthed, harridan now sprawled on the sofa in front of him and the tiny baby might be Rob but he wondered who the man was. “Your husband?” He queried, not sure of the reaction his question might get. She laughed in a vicious spiteful way. ”Hardly… a cunt more like. A self-centred little shit… like father… like his fucking son.” The hate was etched on her face as she spat out her anger at them both. It was obvious from her resentment that the wedding never happened. She pointed to herself in the picture. “I used to be pretty,” she nodded as if to confirm that fact as the photo showed a slim and happy young woman. “Oh yes... but both those fucking cunts drained me of everything…” She reached for the almost empty bottle of cheap wine on the coffee table and poured what was left in to her half-empty glass. Once sure the bottle was really empty she continued to rile on about the injustices heaped on her since her partner had left when Rob was barely three years old. Her pain wasn’t just aimed at the man who had betrayed her love… as she raged about her ‘fuckwit boy’ who, through no fault of hers, had turned into the same unthinking, passion-draining cunt like his father. She went on for over an hour but in the end, she signed the papers and Mark left more enlightened as to how young Rob had ended up the way he had. When he returned Rob was just where he left him, sat in front of the TV watching some old movie. Mark couldn’t get over how damn sweet and innocent he looked wearing just his diaper and plastic pants. However, armed with what he knew now, his heart went out to the boy’s past suffering but… even this real empathy couldn’t detract from the obvious fact that… a thick diaper on this particular teenager made him not only look cute, but vulnerable and helpless. It was also true that visually, although it accentuated that particular area, the thick fabric removed any notion of genitalia, made the lad sexless and, like a child, playful without any sexual undertones. Having said that, it was also true that, as his doctor friend Paul had mentioned in many of their past conversations, a padded bottom was like a magnet and all you could do was admire it and give it gentle pat as it went past. The fact that the bulky object underlined the notion that the lad was still just a weak little kid who needed all the protection he could get was weighing heavily on Mark’s mind. He wasn’t a baby and the fact that at 14, Rob was sure to be a sexual teenager with his own needs and frustrations worried him and was an area of sexual consideration. He questioned his own motives and, like Paul, came up with the desire only to have a constant ‘little’ companion. He knew that others wanted their ‘littles’ for other purposes. He couldn’t pretend that people will have their own interpretation of keeping a young lad as a baby but Mark had convinced himself he was only doing it for Rob. He desperately wanted him to know again the pleasure of being with someone who doted on and loved him. There was something wonderfully appealing of having a lad dressed as a toddler. The image stirred his heart more than his loins but there was no denying that the attraction on several levels was indeed very powerful. However, this only made his desire and determination more intense and he just wanted to guard the boy from further harm. One way to change that immediately was to remove the strait jacket. It was both cumbersome and uncomfortable… and it would display a level of the trust he had in the boy. Rob looked up as he entered the room not really knowing what to expect but, strangely, very glad to see the psychologist again. Mark waved a piece of paper in the air and told him that he was legally now his responsibility, however, he could suddenly see the boy struggling to know how to react. Basically his mum had just disowned him but at the same time, even in the short time it had been, he’d got to like this man who was trying his best to make his life better. He liked that someone cared. He decided he’d do his best to help anyway he could so, when the doctor suggested a change of clothes, he happily agreed, which was just as well really as he had messed his diaper a few hours earlier. He guiltily looked up at Mark and told him that he’d had an accident. Mark smiled, rubbed his hand on the top of the lad’s newly shorn head and told him not to worry, that was exactly what a diaper was for. However, he couldn’t help but check that the plastic pants had done their job and prevented any leaks onto his expensive furniture. Relieved that all was well, he patted the boy’s full padded bottom and aimed him towards the bathroom. Unfastened from the strait jacket Rob did something quite unexpected, he threw his arms around the psychologist, hugged him tightly and started to cry. Taken by surprise at this turn of events Mark could only respond the same way. He was overcome at the lad’s emotions and soothed him with gentle stroking and whispered words of encouragement. Eventually, Rob calmed himself and slowly eased away from the doctor, his red eyes and the streaks of his tears a testimony to his true feelings. Mark held the boy out at arms-length for a good look and told him that from that point on no one was going to harm his little boy again. The fact that he said ‘his’ didn’t appear to register with Rob, who slowly shimmied out of his plastic pants aware that there was another problem brewing. The smell was very apparent; Rob looking guilty and embarrassed, whilst Mark was holding his nose in a mock horror kind of way. Both began to laugh as Mark released the tabs on the diaper and let it fall to the floor with a sodden thud. Rob climbed into the shower and Mark washed the boy thoroughly. Back in the spare bedroom, which would from then on be Rob’s Room, Mark fished out another disposable… “Do I have to wear that?” The question wasn’t as angry as the last time but one that showed he was resigned to doing things he really would rather not. “Can’t I wear some of your old clothes?” Mark smiled. “Perhaps we can sort something out later… but right now… this and a onesie are all I’ve got that will fit.” Rob was looking grumpy at the situation. “Besides…” and he let the lad think on his words, “our deal was… and I quote… I’d rather sit here in this diaper with you than go back.” Rob knew he had no argument to that so reluctantly let Mark lotion, powder him (to prevent diaper rash he explained) before applying the thing tightly to the slim, naked groin that was now so perfectly bereft of hair and looking sweetly boyish. All the fuss and bother meant that Rob nearly got an erection, which would have been awkward for them both but the swiftness of the ‘diaper operation’ made the boy’s sudden visible excitement quickly disappear under the tightly packed thick fabric. Deftly, Mark added a clean pair of rubber pants to cover it all. Rob felt silly, he wanted to rebel but… and this was a very strange thing to think at that moment… the impenetrable padding actually felt really warm and comfortable. While he was thinking about that, Mark slipped a clean t-shirt over his head as a finishing touch. Once it was fitted Mark gave Rob a choice… as there were no plans at that moment to go anywhere, he could wear just what he had on or he could put on the new pajamas, which was really one of Liam’s old onesies, over it all. Rob was already feeling nice and warm so decided he’d just put up with what he was now wearing. To begin with the bulky diaper took a bit of getting used to when walking around. It felt huge between his legs but he soon got used to it and he didn’t even notice that the t-shirt had a cartoon dinosaur print, something that he would never have worn as it looked just too childish. However, as he sat back in front of the TV the cartoon channel was on and he sat giggling along to the antics of several colourful characters. His substantial diaper held him tightly and bizarrely he found comfort in the snugness of the fit and the smoothness of the rubber protecting pants. When Mark came in with his tippy tumbler full of warm milk, he took it and sat drinking with barely a thought to how it all looked. Soon, with the milk all gone, he snuggled up in the crook of this wonderful man’s arm feeling completely secure. Mark was beside himself on how well things were going. Indeed, he hadn’t had to do anything to get the lad into the relaxed and accepting state he was already in. The boy’s laughter as he watched TV was a tonic and he appeared to have accepted his new role surprisingly quickly. After Rob had been watching the TV for an hour the psychologist suggested that perhaps it was time for them to begin their real first session. He took him back to his bedroom, pulled the curtains and made everything dark. He turned on some relaxing music and lit a pleasant smelling candle. He also projected a slowly spinning optical image onto the ceiling and asked his relaxed patient to concentrate on it. “Just listen to my voice.” His words came slowly, carefully measured. “Concentrate on the swirling image as you slowly drift off.” He couldn’t help himself as he stroked the boy’s brow. He also couldn’t get over how bloody fantastic the boy was when he was happy and relaxed. Both of them seemed to be enjoying the moment as Rob snuggled himself into the comfort of his bed. His diaper and rubber pants now just as much a part of him as anything else he’d ever worn… and they did feel unbelievably… comforting. The soothing music and the fact that the doctor was making him feel so… good… worked quickly on his mind as he began to mentally float in an unreal world. Mark continued with his gentle approach and before too long Rob was relaxed and completely hypnotised. The psychologist delved into Rob’s childhood and found that his father leaving when he was only three had been the most major trauma in his life. The fact that his father had promised to come back for him, and never did, had built up resentment and trust issues on a massive scale. His mother never got over her ex’s treachery and blamed all men, including her son, for being the selfish rats that they all were. The stories and hurt and humiliation kept on coming. Every opportunity she got his mother blamed him for… everything that was happening to her. She neglected and abused him in many ways but outwardly he appeared no different to 50% of his school mates. Most kids on that particular tenement were in a similar position, so, no one took much notice of another out-of-control or mistreated child. The information came pouring out. It was as if a safety valve had been turned on and the mounting pressure just forced its way out. Mark was astounded at how much anger, from an early age, had built up inside the boy as a result of the constant barrage of abuse from his mother. When he told of how his mum would, in a drunken rage, beat him, he got so agitated that he cried and wet himself. Mark continued until the sobbing boy had got his story out and had, with the doctor’s skilful and reassuring words, begun to feel better again. However, Mark couldn’t help himself, he regressed the boy back as far as he dare to see what reaction he got. He appeared happiest as a two year-old when he had both his mother and father in his life and they had all gone on holiday together. He was the centre of their world and he was loved. Mark decided that was the period in time he would keep in Rob’s psyche. He would build on that memory whilst instilling in the young mind how much he loved wearing his diaper, how he loved his daddy dressing him, how he just wanted to be a little boy and please his daddy. Mark carefully left much more info pertaining to keeping Rob as a happy two year-old. He also left trigger words planted in the back of Rob’s mind so, when he needed him to be a kid again, the mere mention of those special words would instantly transport him back to that happy time. Mark gently brought him back to reality. Rob had no idea what or just how much he’d said but he felt ultra-relaxed after the long session. The curtains were pulled back, the fading sun still brightened the room and Rob suddenly realised that he’d wet himself again. “Oh fuck.” Mark looked at his patient to see what had caused this comment. Rob felt ridiculous as he looked down at his wet and bloated diaper, “I’m just a fucking baby,” he quietly commented to himself. Mark was surprised at the swear words. It made no sense that after all that had been said and done he should now find such words coming out of the mouth of Rob deeply upsetting. He made a decision there and then that as a 14 year-old Rob needed to change. Mark said the trigger words and Rob immediately regressed back to a two-year old toddler. “Daddy is going to change you… you messy little baby,” and he held out his hand for Rob to grab. “Come on then… let’s get you all cleaned up and in a fresh diapee.” In the bathroom Mark lay baby Rob out on the floor as he went off in search of a few extra items. When he returned, he cooed and spoke in baby jargon as he cleaned up his new baby boy. As he lotioned and powdered Rob the giggling was intense. Rob noticed that the boy’s little cock, now with no hair around it, made him even more like a small child. He kissed the boys naked belly before applying the clean diaper and plastic pants and soon had his happy, sweet toddler back to ‘normal’. He then slipped the t-shirt off and fastened him into a short, light blue cotton onesie that had press studs at the crotch to make changing easier. It emphasised his bulging diaper and the plastic pants just showed below the hem of the onesie’s legs and made him look even more like the sweet little baby that Mark was hoping for. It had all happened so quickly that the psychologist now began to doubt exactly what had taken place and how and why it had all come about. Was Rob aware of his new childish status? Why had he not put up an argument… or at least a petulant strop? He couldn’t get over the fact that the sweet little boy, in the cutest of cute kiddie outfits, now playing with his stuffed toys (more items from Little Liam) had, only a few short hours ago, been trying to attack him… the change was just unbelievable. Perhaps, Mark began to hope, that the boy had his own set of needs that just happened to coincide with his own. These thoughts were madness… but… who knew? That evening Mark called upstairs to his friend Paul and Little Liam and told them he had a surprise. The psychologist took ‘Baby Robbie’ on their first trip together, it was only a couple of flights of stairs but it marked a giant leap for both of them. Holding on to his daddy’s hand (Mark had programmed the word into Rob’s vocabulary and he was overjoyed when, a few minutes earlier, he had called him Daddy for the very first time) it was the way things were meant to be thought Mark. Paul greeted them at the door and was happily surprised to see Rob looking so good as a toddler. He’d known of his friend’s plans of course, but the speed at which it had all happened left him staggered. He invited them both in, making a fuss of the new youngster and telling him how cute and how sweet he looked as he introduced him to Little Liam. “Daddy can I play?” Rob looked quizzically up at Mark. “Only if you play nicely with Little Liam… no snatching.” The two young boys contentedly launched into some game that kept them amused for hours. Mark and Paul chatted and began making plans for the future including enrolling Robbie at the crèche and planning a holiday together. Both doctors had been very busy recently and getting away had been almost impossible but now, they planned their lives around their little boys and trips out were high on the list of things to do. The two thick padded little bums crawled and ran around the house the best they could, one minute building blocks, the next coloring in books. They pushed their toy cars around the living room, finding hidey-holes behind cushions and exploring everywhere together. There was even a game of chasing soap bubbles that were blown by Daddy Mark, which only stopped for bottles of milk that their daddy’s fed them. They eagerly sucked on the rubber teats and seemed to enjoy the warm sustenance in the bottle… they couldn’t get enough of it. Once finished the men slipped a pacifier in each of their mouths and lay them down for a nap. Looking like little diapered angels lying next to each other the exhausted boys were asleep in seconds. Daddy Paul had added a little sleeping ingredient to their formula to help the boys calm down from their exciting introduction to one and other. They were going to be little friends together for a long time, or so their daddy’s hoped, and this first meeting had gone off really well. Little Liam had even put an arm around his new friend as they both snoozed wrapped in their thick, comfortable diapers and cartoon onesies, while clutching their favourite soft toy. Paul was delighted that his best friend now had someone to share his life with… just like he had with Little Liam. The two men chatted about what would and could happen but they remained positive that these two sleeping little cuties, the loves of their lives, would always be looked after by their daddies. Indeed, it looked like they were just as excited by the prospect as their little boys had been when they’d found someone else to play with. The two doctors were desperate to keep them young, innocent and free from the hassle of growing up for as long as they could. The constant wearing of their thick diapers would keep them looking and feeling like kids and that’s what their daddies were trying to achieve. The boys had been through a lot during their short lives and perhaps this was a sort of reward - no worries and tons of hugs. As the toddlers cuddled each other whilst they slept, their daddies raised a celebratory glass of wine and clinked them together as they toasted the future. After all, this was just the first day of the rest of the boy’s well-loved and of course… well-padded life. ***tbc***
  9. Never More Content - Part 1-5 end

    Never More Content - Part 3 The full enormity of his plight suddenly hit the young lad and from nowhere he started to cry. Not just sobs but a huge roar of pain that welled up inside of him and found an outlet through a heart-rending sound that brought Mark urgently back from the kitchen. Tears were cascading down the boy’s face and Mark did the only thing he thought might help, he sat by his side, put his arm around his shoulders and hugged him. Rob didn’t try to pull away. Such was the enormity of his inner grief that he needed something, someone to care. He buried his tearful head against Mark’s firm stomach and let the emotional pain wrack his body until he could cry no more. Fifteen minutes later and Rob had finally cried as much as he could. The front of Mark’s shirt was sopping wet but he didn’t mind, he was just glad he was there to at least give some comfort to the troubled lad. The red-eyed boy looked up at Mark not really knowing what to expect but was surprised to see a sympathetic and understanding face looking back. “Let’s get you some food… you’ll feel a lot better.” Mark walked to the kitchen as Rob began to feel… safe. It was a strange sensation. He’d attacked this man, attacked a doctor who was trying to help and yet, in all the time he’s been on the streets, and not forgetting his hated and drunken mother, this was the only time in his life he felt… someone cared. Mark slowly fed Rob chunks of pizza and let him drink juice from a child’s sippy cup (he hadn’t wanted an irate lad spilling the liquid all over the place and causing a mess). Rob was still in the strait jacket but he seemed to have come to terms with why this was necessary. He wanted to tell this kind man that he was sorry but was so hungry that apologies would have to wait until his belly was full. He didn’t even mind drinking like a little kid from the non-spill sippy cup that was occasionally pushed towards his lips. In fact, he was quite enjoying the attention and began to wriggle quite contentedly in his diaper. The man really did seem to care but, at the back of Rob’s mind he knew that he couldn’t really trust anyone, there’s always payment in one form or another… his sore and bleeding arse a few weeks earlier had been testament to that fact. However, he was in no position to do much about any demands made on him at that moment so decided to stay alert, bide his time and eat. Once the pizza was all gone Mark began to ask Rob some questions. He made it clear that he wanted the truth and not some made-up mumbo jumbo and that he’d be able to tell if he was lying. “What’s your name?” Rob didn’t think this was a bad question and could see no reason not to give the correct response. “Rob”. “Hello Rob… I’m Doctor Thompson. How old are you?” Now then the questions were getting trickier “18”, he blurted out. “I thought I said no lying,” he shook his head a little to show a sense of disapproval. “Why not try again.” “16”. Shaking his head a little more he said, “Let’s try one more time… and this time Rob… please don’t lie, there really is no need.” “14”, as his eyes darted to the floor in embarrassment, Mark knew he had the real answer. “OK fourteen year-old Rob… we have some decisions to make. What are we going to do with you?” Rob wriggled nervously in the thick padding between his legs unable to look at this man who had been so kind, but who now was going to ‘do’ something with him. Despite his agitation all he could do was wait and see what this doctor man had in mind. “Listen up Rob, these are your options. You decide and we’ll work from then on.” Fucking hell, Rob thought, I’m getting to choose. He wasn’t sure he’d like the options but at least he was going to be given a choice. “Firstly, now you seem OK and fed, you can leave immediately.” Rob liked the sound of that. “Unfortunately, once the restraint has been removed, you’ll have to leave just as you are. Your clothing fell apart in the wash and other than what you are wearing, that’s it.” Rob was less happy with that. “I don’t feel I need to be further responsible seeing as you attacked me and I’ve done all I can to make… “ “What other options do I have?” Rob interrupted, wanting to know all his options before he could commit but didn’t want a lecture in between. “I can call the police.” Rob disliked that idea even more. “You are underage and I can say that I found you unconscious outside, tried my best to revive you and, as I and a friend are doctors, didn’t feel the need to send you immediately to hospital.” He paused to let his words sink in. “It will be up to you whether I mention the attempted knife assault but… the CCTV coverage outside the building should offer substantiation if needed.” Rob gulped at this piece of evidence he hadn’t even thought about but was trying to think fast although he still wasn’t happy with these options. “Are there any other options?” “Well, my final option is this.” He went and looked Rob straight in the eyes. “You can stay with me.” He saw the look of horror flash into Rob’s eyes. “Before you panic, let me explain. I don’t want you for sex. I know, from the doctor’s examination that you have had a terrible experience and that isn’t what I want… or expect.” The nervous wriggling got worse and he was desperate to run somewhere, anywhere he wasn’t sure but the doctor hadn’t finished with his options. “I can see you are nervous but let me tell you what I am proposing and then you can pick your own preference.” Rob’s anxiety hadn’t lessened and the padded sensation was now not helping. He felt trapped and knew he would have to agree to something he really didn’t want to do to get out of this mess. Mark continued trying to put the panic stricken lad at ease. “I’m a psychologist and I am doing work in the area of problem behaviour and psychosocial development. I would like to work with you, and have you as one of my test subjects.” Rob didn’t understand any of that and his blank expression conveyed that back to Mark. “Let me explain. What that means is that you let me…” he nearly said probe, “talk to you and find out what makes a young guy like you… tick.” Rob still wasn’t convinced. “There is no denying that you have, or are having… problems… maybe at home, at school, with friends…” “With everyone.” Rob interrupted. “I see,” said Mark, “well perhaps you can help me understand these problems that you have, and in so doing,” he was trying to keep it simple, “help other kids your age.” He waited a few seconds to let his word take hold. “By me understanding you… it might lead to understanding others like you.” He paused again. “You would be helping…” “What would I have to do?” “Well, I’d need to know a little more about your circumstances. We can do that in sessions where you come to my office and we chat and try out other ways of digging into your psyche.” “My what?” “It’s just a term for your mind... what makes you tick, what upsets you... what…” “My fucking mother.” He spat out with venom that surprised Mark. “Ah. Then I suppose you won’t want to return home.” “No fucking way.” He was adamant. “I’d rather sit here in this diaper with you than go back.” Mark quickly seized the opportunity. “OK, then that’s you final option. You stay with me and I’ll make the arrangements to have you as a patient.” Rob didn’t know what to say. He’d only said it to show his contempt for his mother and hadn’t expected such a response. Mark was quick to follow through. “So, just as you have said, the final option is… you stay with me as a patient. Exactly as you have said… wearing…” he waved his hand towards Rob, “and I will look after all your needs but… and it is a big but… you must not be violent. If you fight me, or anyone else, I will turn you out as you are and not think twice about it.” Mark had put his stern, matter-of-fact, don’t argue face on and it was having an effect on Rob. Rob surveyed his diaper and strait jacket. “I can’t live like this.” “Why not? You lived the first part of your life like that… being fed and dressed. Regard it as a re-birth… a second chance.” Rob looked quizzically at Mark. “Look, apart from me and any other doctors at the hospital I need to include in my research, no one will know… and they are used to seeing people dressed in the same…” “WHAT.” Rob interrupted, “Will I not be staying here with you?” He began to squirm nervously again. “I… I… erm…” “Well my research should be under clinical conditions…” he could see Rob begin to get agitated and tears sprung into the corner of his eyes. “OK, here’s what I'll do. If I can get clearance to have you as an inpatient and say I’d get better observational results from you being with me, I might be able to swing it. How does that sound?” If he could have Rob would have flung his arms around Mark and begged him to let him stay and he’d do anything if that could happen. Rob’s body language said it all and Mark knew he'd got the boy just where he wanted him. He was agreeing to change, or at least be helped to change, and that was a huge step. He wanted the boy to feel safe, secure and to trust him so he stroked his hair and told him not to worry as no harm would ever come to him again. Mark’s heart was singing with the possibilities that he could now imagine but knew that there might be some obstacles along the way. Rob wasn’t sure he quite understood what was being proposed or whether he could go through with all this psycho gibberish but, at that moment, he saw it as his best option. After all, he was going to be off the street, not at home, fed and looked after and all he had to do was… talk to this psychologist. Mark brought up the subject of Rob’s parents… the reaction was loud and hostile. The lad was more than a little agitated and screamed he didn’t want anything to do with that “Fucking woman” and angrily said that he’d run away if he was sent back or she had anything more to do with him. Mark explained that as he was underage he would need some kind of signed release so that Rob would be under his supervision and, if his mum agreed to it, legally Mark would be responsible for him. He took some convincing but eventually Rob gave up his old address but was still worried he’d be returned to the woman who may have given him life but who he now hated with a passion. ***tbc***
  10. Never More Content - Part 1-5 end

    Please be warned; in this chapter there are descriptions of sexual violence. They are needed to set the scene for what is to happen later. Never More Content - Part 2 Whilst Rob was sleeping off the sedative Mark was busy organising the lad’s immediate future. He borrowed some essential items from Paul who had used them himself for Little Liam’s benefit but were now no longer needed. He also asked Paul, who was excited about Mark’s plan, to keep an eye on the comatose boy whilst he went to his office to collect a few more things that he thought might be needed for the next part of the young lad’s ‘development’. Once he assembled everything he returned home and checked that Rob was still very much out of it. He checked his diaper to see if he had had any further accidents and was pleased to see that all was clean and dry. However, he was still quite dirty from the time living rough so Mark prepared a bath. He stripped the boy and applied some hair removal lotion around his dick and balls, not that there was much to be seen but Mark was convinced that this was an area that lice and other nasty’s liked to reside. Once the strange smelling cream had done its job and the area wiped free of any pubic hair he immersed him in the warming bubbles and set about scrubbing the lad clean. Whilst in the bath he checked for dreaded head lice, then, using a pair of clippers, gave him a short haircut before drying him off and dressing him as he thought appropriate. First he applied the soothing lotion and then baby powdered to the newly hair-free areas before fastening him into a clean and very thick disposable diaper. Next he added a pair of clear plastic pants because, if the boy had another accident, he didn’t want the diaper to leak all over his expensive furnishings. Finally he secured the lad in a strait jacket so he could offer no physical violence, although, when he came too, he may well have things to express verbally about his new found situation. However, to be on the safe side, Mark had a ball gag to stop that if things got too noisy or out of hand. He wanted the boy to know he was safe, although he realised that it may not look that way to begin with, but he needed to protect himself from any unforeseen reaction. He kept telling himself that his main aim was to reassure the lad of his ‘honest’ intentions, even though those real intentions were still forming in his head. However, having talked to his friend Paul on the subject, and from what he knew from past patients, it was important to keep Rob ‘off-centre’ for as long as possible. He couldn’t know what the ultimate plan was as Mark knew there would be open hostilities about it. He wasn’t sure which way to play it as he wanted the lad to feel safe but in no doubt that his present situation was controlled and decided by someone else… in this case… him. Mark hoped that by Rob wearing such babyish clothing he might not be so aggressive and realise that demanding to leave, dressed as he was, would be both embarrassing and have ‘consequences’. Mark was going to be friendly and understanding but an authority figure… well, that was how he hoped he’d appear. The psychologist had been able to obtain the diapers and plastic pants (as well as other childish items and clothing) from Paul, who was Daddy to Little Liam, a twenty year-old man who had lived as a toddler for the past five years. Liam had developed a passion for wearing diapers as a teenager when his family began to break up. Shy, unassuming and not overly blessed with confidence in the first place, he retreated to a time when all was pleasant and people were benevolent… and being well-padded gave him that feeling of protection and safety. At one of his many visits to his family physician he’d confessed his cravings for being treated as a baby and how it made him feel. Paul, the young, handsome doctor he’d confessed to listened and, to Liam’s undying relief, understood. The doctor had felt sorry for the cute, bewildered and sad looking youth so had obliged him with a place to live out his babyish desires. Paul knew that others might not understand what was happening but, delving back into his own troubled childhood, he liked the idea of looking after a toddler and had to admit that, after their first session together, he was hooked on being as real a daddy as possible to his now ‘Little’ Liam. The boy’s tightly padded bum was a constant delight and the eagerness to happily wear and play in just a diaper or onesie gave Liam all the security he felt he needed. Paul encouraged this total dependency by buying him other childish clothes and soft toys. They watched cartoons together, coloured in books and built Lego and it wasn’t long before Liam fell in love with his new daddy and wanted to be regressed permanently to being a little boy… Daddy’s little boy. As a teen baby and a diaper lover was something they both loved and enjoyed, it seemed a perfect match as their time together was one of happiness and trust. It didn’t happen overnight, for the first two of those five years Liam was a teenager who occasionally wore diapers, although the need to wear them more and more was gaining strength with every session he had with the doctor. Hypnosis and constant reaffirming of the confused teen’s toddler status resulted in the fact that, for the past three years, Paul and Liam had been happy living together as daddy and young son. As a youth Paul had entertained similar yearnings but they hadn’t developed the way Liam’s had. Those early desires the doctor had buried deep in his anxious past were ultimately reawakened and both enjoyed playing their part. He was so pleased when Liam entered his life with a problem that he didn’t see as a problem but a gift, that they immediately became involved and satisfied each other’s requirements. Nothing gave Paul more pleasure than seeing the lad in a thick diaper, covered with glossy waterproof protecting pants, as he scuttled around the house at play. His well-padded bottom became a significant part of what made him who he was, whilst making the overall visual aspect something special as he enthusiastically assumed all the babyish and toddler inspired gifts that Paul heaped upon him. The complete reliance and constant wearing of the thick diaper reinforced the boy’s status as a child; a young, helpless toddler who had to be dressed and even had to be changed. The powerful bond between the two was further enforced by the intimacy of those regular diaper changes. Little Liam’s colourful and childish clothing may have made other people wonder but for him, it was where he wanted to be; a happy and giggling baby with a loving daddy and without a care in the world. However, Paul had work to do and Liam, now totally regressed, couldn’t be left on his own so the doctor set about finding others who had similar young toddlers or shared the same interests. Thankfully, in a large city such as theirs there were plenty of others. Some were like Liam, permanent toddlers, while others just had an interest in being adult babies or having an appreciation for wearing diapers… all loved living in a ‘little’ world where they were protected and cared for without any judgement. In fact, there were so many who were of that inclination that Paul and Mark decided to set up, and finance, a daytime crèche where they could all meet up and play together. Under the supervision of two older ladies, former nurses and retired friends of Paul’s, who just loved looking after their ‘big ‘little’ kids’, it meant that the ‘infant’s’ mummies and daddies could go out to work as normal and their little charges were looked after until collected. The crèche became a focal point for the ABDL community and often there were ten or twelve ‘youngsters’ being looked after on a daily basis. On special occasions, ABDLs from all over the country would descend on the crèche or go on outings and events that the group organised. It was an opportunity for the toddlers to have some fun mixing and playing with new friends, though for the grown-ups it was a chance to exchange thoughts and ideas about their little ones. Mark wanted something similar from this new ‘gift’ that had tried to attack him. He was envious of the loving relationship between Paul and Liam but had never taken that envy to any other stage. He’d appreciated that side of his personality, the one that wanted to have a child of his own but always professed to being too busy for it to happen. However, he convinced himself that the lad had been sent to him for a reason… and that reason he could now see most clearly. Still, the new life he hoped to give the boy; now cleaned, tidy and dressed as he was… was perhaps all he could hope for. Yet, the boy looked younger, cuter and appeared to be even more appropriate for the process that the psychologist now envisaged. He wanted to delve into the boy’s background and free up any bad experiences or traumas that may have led him to the situation he was in at the moment; a young tearaway with little or no real way of dealing with a harsh and often cruel world. He wanted his own ‘Little Liam’ as he’d seen what joy the regressed toddler had brought to his friend: Images of the two young babies/toddlers playing together, dressed in their cartoon onesies or crawling around in just their well-padded diapers, raced through Mark’s mind and really appealed to his blossoming paternal feelings. Unfortunately, there was one possible draw back… how could he get the boy to agree to his ideas. The diapers were an integral part of his plan. It made the wearer dependant, whilst instilling his juvenile status upon the boy. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell the lad his overall strategy, just the bits about trying to help him come to terms with his anger and his homeless situation. Mark knew that if there was an agreement from him to change, then the battle would be half won, so he had to get the lad onside as soon as possible. He wanted to offer him hope and options but at the front of his mind he was also wondering what he would do if his would-be baby rebelled against any form of ‘help’. Mark was now completely obsessed with the idea of having his own ‘needy’ little boy. He knew his desire could possibly lead to complications but was determined to at least try. He wouldn’t have been the first psychologist to use his skill to get what he wanted from a patient. To train an easily receptive brain to do something different from the norm and become a vassal to the whims of the doctor. An interesting concept… however, Mark hoped for a better outcome than that. The words of his mother were always at the forefront of his mind: “You’d never seemed more content” and he hoped to be able to give the boy the same feeling of serenity. As Rob slowly came round from the best and deepest sleep he’d enjoyed for many years he could hear soft, relaxing music playing in the background. He wasn’t sure where he was but things felt vague and strange as he became more and more conscious and aware of his surroundings. He could feel that his arms were trapped in some way and became further alarmed to the fact that there was a figure sat in front of him. Mark had subdued the lighting so most of the room was in shadow and only a dim light fell around the now fully awake boy. As he wriggled to release the restrictions holding him hostage, panic quickly replaced that deep sense of sleep and he began to scream and shout out for help. Mark quickly tried to calm him; reaching out and hushing him, trying to soothe away the panic by softly speaking to the scared little kid in front of him. Thankfully, he didn’t need the ball-gag, which he realised would have sent the wrong message. Eventually, as he had no real option, Rob calmed down and listened to what the man said. He wasn’t sure who he was but he looked a vaguely familiar. “Where am I?” Rob demanded angrily. “What do you want?” Mark smiled now he had the lad’s attention and happily explained what had happened. “You attacked me…” He let his word sink in. “You came at me with a knife and I thought I was going to die.” He thought that if Rob understood he was only protecting himself he wouldn’t be as scared as he was at that moment. “Luckily I managed to disarm you and render you unconscious before any real harm was done.” Rob had no memory of this particular incident at all and shook his head, “Oh,” was his response. “Once I realised I’d knocked you out I couldn’t leave you in the street, so I brought you in here and got a doctor to check you over”. Rob nodded trying to recall just what had gone on. “Unfortunately, as he was checking on your cuts and bruises… you attacked him also…” he waved his hand gesturing towards the strait jacket, “that’s why I have put you in that… I don’t know how violent you might get again.” Rob was listening and trying his best to make some sense of his actions but couldn’t. “Erm… I’m sorry… I don’t remember… er…” Mark let him think on things for a few seconds. Rob became aware of his lack of clothes. “Where the hell are my pants?” He caught sight of his groin. “What the fuck am I doing in these fucking things…?” And he looked in disgust at his diaper and plastic pants. “Relax,” Mark tried to reassure him, “you pissed and shit yourself.” He let the words sink in. “You were a mess. Your clothing stunk. You stunk. The doctor couldn’t see all your bruises because of the filth… so I just cleaned you up. This was all I had that…” Rob was angry and frustrated. “Why?” Although he couldn’t remember attacking the man sat in front of him, his memory of the past few weeks came flooding back. He recollected angrily leaving home and his first night on the streets. He painfully relived the fact that his few possessions and what little money was in his pockets had all been stolen by some men who beat him up without a second thought and left him bleeding, hurting and with nothing. He only had what he stood up in, torn and scruffy though they were he was lucky to still have them as he went looking for help. No one wanted to know. He couldn’t return home, not after the things he’d called his mother (and she’d screamed back at him) and he had no friends or relatives he could count on. He was afraid and alone but he had to survive. On the second night, three druggies had caught up with him and offered him some pills. He told them he had no money but they just said it didn’t matter and gave them to him anyway. He wanted to escape from the situation he’d found himself in and here at last were people who understood his predicament. He quickly swallowed the offered drugs before they changed their minds. He was offered a place to crash out and invited back to their hovel and it was there, as he slipped into a chemical feeling of euphoria, that he was raped. Although he was high it was still fucking painful. All night the three took turns at his young virgin arse… so while he screamed and cried, they laughed and fucked. Eventually, they fell asleep and he was left with a bleeding arse full of cum and with his hands tied to a metal pipe. He couldn’t get free and when they woke up, they got high and, laughing like hyenas, fucked him all over again… before throwing him out. Everything ached and hurt and he hated the world. He was starving but no one offered any help at all. After what he’d just endured he was scared of people, worried that all they would do was abuse him, so he kept away from others. He managed to survive picking up scraps where and when he could and sleeping anywhere there wasn’t anyone else. He was desperately afraid but knew he couldn’t go back home. That was nearly four, scary weeks ago and he was starving. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal for… well… he was trying hard to remember when the man still talking asked if he liked pizza. He returned from his agonising memories and realised he hadn’t heard much of what the man had said but the offer of food had suddenly jolted his mind. He nodded and wriggled on his thickly padded butt. ***tbc***
  11. 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***
  12. Confession (Update 1-5 final)

    Confession Update Part 5 At around 5.30 in the morning I found a tatty old pair of shorts and an equally distressed T-shirt waiting next to my own suit and shirt and briefs. I was told that if I wanted, I could go along with Michael and work with him on the site. I was not only half asleep (until that moment they hadn’t told me exactly what the job was) I was confused but thought I’d remind them that all I’d ever done was office work so a building site was not really me. However, I was convinced to at least to give it a try (after all I was jobless) and before long, I was dressed in those shorts and t-shirt and, for what felt like the first time in a while, back in a regular pair of briefs. I was told that a diaper would probably be very unpleasant after working on the site all day because it would ride up and tangle or bunch up uncomfortably. They’d even found a pair of boots my size (but don’t ask me where from) and, by 6am, I was suddenly heading out with Michael for my first day as a manual laborer. I hadn’t known that Michael was in fact the site manager so he had me assisting the more established workers. There were about twenty men in total, all sexy in their own way but, even though I might have thought about it for a few minutes, sex on the job was not on the cards. Yes, ‘those feeling’ were now at the forefront of my mind but… I had to work hard as the men were pretty demanding and had a surprisingly good work ethic. For me it was back-breaking, physical work and left no time to fantasize about sex, diapers, plastic pants or being a pampered baby. Even though I had no idea how long the work would last… at least I was employed and this change in direction would be a surprise to my parents… when I eventually got home. *** As I carried bricks, mixed cement, loaded scaffolding etc. all I could think about was – what changes in my life a couple of days had seen. I have to admit that I’d gone from the sublime to the ridiculous in the space of the last 24 hours; from a diaper wearing baby to a butch, manual construction worker. The work was hard and later, when Michael eventually dropped me off at my own home, I was just a knackered, sweaty and dust covered version of a guy I used to be. When I walked through the door my parents were very surprised at the turn of events and, after initially being cold about not letting them know precisely what I was up to, said they were proud – yes PROUD - of me. They were impressed that I’d done everything possible to find myself work in such difficult times. Needless to say, I didn’t tell them exactly what it was that I had done to get this particular job (and would be more than happy to do again). Strangely, my dad seemed to have a new respect for me now I was laboring and my mum didn’t seem too worried about the dust and dirt that followed me about. It was very strange because, up in my own bedroom that night I had a desire to slip into a diaper and happily continue what had started back at Tony’s place. However, I was far too tired and the thought that I’d have to be up and out of the house myself by 6am made me reconsider my priorities. I slept in just a pair of boxers… and I was OK with that but knowing I could pull on a pair of pull-ups or slip into a diaper anytime I wanted… and… feel OK about it… that was a terrific place to be. *** On the second day on the site, Michael told me I was to assist BB, as he needed someone to run and fetch for him while he was stuck up a scaffold doing some roofing. I had not met him on my first day but now – WOW – I was happy to help him out in any way. He was 35, had been married, was built like a brick-shithouse and filled his denim cut-off shorts and AC/DC t-shirt so well I was completely in awe of him. Between bringing him either a hod full of shingles, tar or buckets of fresh cement, we were kept busy so small talk was minimal. However, I couldn’t help but notice that even Michael would have to take second place in a contest between these two in looks and physical appearance. With his thick hairy legs holding up such a fantastic body as he stretched, twisted and bent to do his work all I kept thinking was that I wished he was gay like me. Thankfully, I noticed the waistband peeking out above his shorts; there was just a hint of yellow plastic pants - for me that was instant recognition of another AB or DL. My gaydar ‘pinged’ in my mind but of course, this was a stupid generalisation… though on this occasion it proved to be correct. Once the possibilities were sorted in my head, and I assumed that Michael had placed me with him specifically, I flirted with BB and dropped hints, which I hoped left him in no doubt as to my intentions. Some of the horny things he said in response to my teasing and joking left me all hot and bothered; mind you, the continuing hot weather and physical exertion of the job were not helping much either. *** Over the next few days I got to know BB better and we got along fine. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that Michael had put us two together for a reason. On the Friday after work he suggested we celebrate my week’s work with a drink at a bar in town. I was so excited that this hunk wanted to spend time with me that I immediately said ‘Yes’… and that knowing smile of his promised even more. I hadn’t seen anything of Tony since I’d started work and, because he was working on a different building and supervising all the other new builds, I hadn’t see that much of Michael either. However, earlier Tony had packaged up all my stuff from Auntie and Michael had brought it to work for me to take home. I hadn’t had time to get the stuff sorted but, before I went out that night I thought I’d better hang it up or at least put it away until I was ready to resume my diaper interests. Tony had not only parcelled up Auntie’s gifts, he’d also added two pairs of cloth diapers, several disposables and two pairs of plastic pants. I was beside myself with happiness and once again marvelled at the generosity and understanding of a man who had changed my life around in such a short span of time. *** I thought, as I’d noticed BB’s plastic pants he may well have been wearing a diaper underneath, although I hadn’t seen any noticeable padding, it gave me the opportunity to wear a diaper again and also show support for his ‘fetish’. I pulled on one of the disposables, selected the pink pop-studded plastic pants and shimmied into my jeans, the look was tight but I didn’t appear overly bulky. A pink and pale blue polo shirt finished my ensemble. With a kiss to mum and a wave to dad I told them not to wait up as me and the gang (I told them that a group of us from work were all going out together) planned on being out late. There was a new found confidence in me now and I was no longer scared of meeting, and reacting to, other people. Although I was still relatively shy, in comparison to what I used to be like only a week ago, I was a different guy. BB and I chatted almost nonstop; his marriage broke up because he was gay and didn’t like pretending to his wife, who had suspected his real inclinations herself. He said that he hadn’t acted on his real feelings during the marriage, which he’d found difficult, but once the divorce was through, had gone at it like a man possessed. He’d had a relationship with a man named Peter that had lasted 6 months but that had literally petered out and he realised he wasn’t for him. BB, which had been his nickname since he was a kid actually stood for Big Boy, the name his dad had called him almost from birth. Apparently, his dad had been very impressed with his new son’s ‘equipment’ and the nickname was his way of being both boastful and proud of his boy. *** I asked him about the plastic pants. He seemed shocked, and a bit embarrassed that I knew. I told him about seeing them peeking over his rather sexy cut-offs and I’d been fantasising about them ever since. He smiled a sort of relieved smile and I opened the top button on my jeans a little so he could see I was wearing my plastic pants. That was my opportunity to talk about me and explain my interest in diapers and stuff. He seemed impressed with my journey from my brother’s plastic protection to my own diaper love and wasn’t thrown at all when I told him about my recent photo shoot. In fact he said he couldn’t wait to go online and see the results… maybe he could get me into a diaper. He hadn’t noticed that I was wearing one but, in my mind at least, he’d be finding out later on. His thing was simply plastic. He loved the feel, the smell, the sheer pleasure it gave him to wear an item of plastic clothing. He wasn’t an ABDL, or so he said, but just keen on having that particular material next to his skin. It was getting late and he suggested we went off to a club but I have to tell you, after a week of manual work, especially as I was using muscles I didn’t even know I had, I was fairly knackered and the last thing I wanted was to jig around a dancefloor. I suggested, if he was up for it, to go back to his place and see what happened. He liked that idea. *** When he shuffled out of his clothes and was standing all but naked in front of me I was once again in absolute awe. Yes awestruck because even in a pair of clear plastic pants and nothing else he looked magnificent. Tight muscles, six-pack abs, pecs I could have nibbled on all day but his dick, wow, behind the clear piece of plastic his dick was thick, dark and shiny. It was if someone had poured a bottle of baby oil all over it. The slick look and large flared helmet making me do a double take as I wondered if I could accommodate such a wonderful piece of work. I was lying on his bed in just my pink plastic pants and diaper, which he appeared to like the look of as I watched, through his see-thru pants, him begin to grow. His dad had named him well and my own diapered restriction was screaming for release. He climbed on the bed beside me and we kissed for the first time and any thoughts of sleep were instantly abandoned. *** Saturday morning found me curled up in his manly embrace. I could see my diaper and plastic pants hanging from the bedhead but he was still wearing his. We stayed in bed for most of the day and somewhere, in amongst the rumpled sheets and condoms, you’d probably find my virginity. I loved the fact that this gorgeous manly man had taken control. If I’d been in any doubt, the last few days had proved that I liked to be dominated, led and controlled and as BB kissed and stroked my body, I knew that I would do absolutely anything for him and he could do anything to me. As he had things to do, we got up about 3pm and I began to get dressed. The disposable was too far gone to be used again but the resourceful BB went to the bathroom and returned with a thick hand towel. He got me to lay out and deftly pinned me into his version of a homemade diaper. The love and care he put into it left me speechless and I just intuitively sucked on my thumb and let him get on with it. He snapped me back into my exceedingly tight pink plastic pants and admired his work as I gave him a little wriggle. This inspired him to look up Auntie Mary’s site and see if the new images were online yet. To my surprise they were… and BB was absolutely bowled over by all the kinky gear I was wearing. He kept pointing at some of the plastic stuff saying he’d like to see us both in that… or how cute I looked in a huge thick diaper and nothing else. All the while he was looking at the site I was standing at his side and his hand was constantly stroking my bulky bottom. *** When I got home I called Tony to tell him and Michael about my ‘fabulous’ night and asked them if they’d planned the whole thing. Tony proclaimed his innocence but I couldn’t tell if Michael was there and enjoying his own satisfaction at a job well done. I wasn’t complaining though and mentioned that both BB and I had seen the site and was very impressed with the layout. Tony asked me to get in touch with Auntie Mary as she wanted a word. I asked what about but he said he didn’t know but perhaps she had other designs she thought I might like to pose for. I told him I’d call her as soon as I’d finished speaking to him, which I did after thanking him over and over again for what he’d done for me over the past week. He was happy that I was happy and that was more than enough and hoped that I wouldn’t forget them both now I had a new ‘play mate’. I told him I’d still like to play with them sometimes if they were up for it… and we left it at that. Auntie Mary asked me to pop in to her shop the next time I was passing, although the way she said it I assumed she meant asap. Tony and Michael were out when I arrived so I just called in to her baby clothes shop to see what assistance I could be. Her nanny gear was gone and she was dressed as normal and as such didn’t appear so controlling, but she still radiated authority and I felt like a little kid in her presence. She told me that the site, although it had only been open a couple of days, was doing very well and complimented me for my ‘starring’ ability. She was happy to shower praise on me saying that every image was getting viewed many, many times and that I’d become a bit of a hit. I felt quite proud and was happy that everything had gone so well. She said that orders had come flooding in... the blue and white satin sailor suit with the plastic lining being a particular favourite with her clients… but that she also had some other requests that I might be interested in knowing about. *** Apparently, I was in demand - not just the clothes I’d been wearing but me… I was asked if I was also available. There was a small fan club that Auntie Mary knew about and they wanted me to… well to be their baby. I looked at her doubtfully but she just nodded and explained what it was they wanted from me. There were a group of men and women, but mainly men, who would pay for me to be their ‘baby’ for a few hours. I’d be dressed, changed, fed, burped… in fact all the things you do with a baby… they wanted to do to me. I looked at her in shock as she went on to tell me how much they were willing to pay for this ‘privilege’. She told me that most of them would buy just about anything if they knew they would have me to dress up and ‘play’ with. She went on to say that it could be a bit of a money making project for both the shop and me if I wanted to take up the option. I felt like I had to say yes, even though in my head it was a definite no-no. However, thinking I’d thought of a brilliant way to get out of it I said that of course I’d do it, only if Maddy was doing it as well. I thought that Auntie wouldn’t let her daughter do it in a million years but she smiled and said that Maddy was already out on her first assignment. I couldn’t believe it but, as I said I do it if she did, I had little option but to agree. *** As I was now in relatively full time work Auntie Mary had to plan any visits around my evenings if it was local or weekend if I had to travel. Some people wanted to use the nursery from the photo-shoot so Tony made his studio available for those occasions, which often included Maddy and me together. All the arrangements were left to Auntie and she would either give me a pile of clothes to take with me or the clients would already have whatever they wanted me to use… either way, the shop was doing a roaring trade and she had to set on another two workers to help with the constant demand. After that intense first occasion I was hoping to see more of BB but he was happy to keep it, to begin with at least, very low key, after all we were working together during the day. Suddenly, from when I had nothing but time on my hands, I was now so busy I hardly had time to take a breath. In between all that, my ‘fans’ had made request of new designs they wanted to see me in so, Auntie and her staff were even busier and I was needed to model each item. Tony pointed the camera once more and my rubber covered butt gleamed as the latest piece of sexy but babyish fashion was photographed for posterity… and Auntie’s site. I also knew that later that evening my naked, well shaved, oiled and powdered body would be wrapped in someone’s idea of what ‘Baby Danny’ should wear. Most of the clients (Auntie was very clear about how I should refer to them) wanted to be called Daddy or Mummy, and they would treat me just as a little baby. Others wanted to join in games, also dressed in a similar way as myself or watch cartoons together. Auntie was clear that any client wanting anything sexual from either Maddy or me wasn’t going to get it... but that didn't stop them from asking or offering a fortune for a different kind of 'privilege'. Tony was amazed at the way things had taken off and congratulated me on being so damn popular. I pointed out it was all down to him and his scruffy looking diaper cover. That's what had drawn my attention so it was his fault entirely. He laughed and nodded in agreement but pointed out that it was my interest in looking up his pant leg that had led us to talking… so he couldn’t… and wouldn’t take all the credit. Working with BB and getting together for the occasional night of plastic fun made me incredibly happy. Being part of an ABDL community and being in such demand meant that my bank account was also doing nicely, whilst I just had to dress up in some wonderful babyish creations - my life had never been better. The End
  13. Confession (Update 1-5 final)

    Confession Update Part 4 Once I was over my slight nervousness about asking questions the conversation turned into an open, funny and frank discussion. Don’t get me wrong, I was fascinated by their relationship but, as we talked, they helped me discover more about myself. For instance: Why had I lost my job? Because I was frustrated and angry. Why was I frustrated and angry? Because I didn’t like my job. But why now? (I had told them that I liked working in the Call Center… I actually quite liked the idea at least of trying to help people.) I don’t know. Could it be you’re frustrated because you have shut off your ‘diaper’ outlet? Mmmm… I don’t know. Could it be that pulling on a diaper was something you so enjoyed doing… that now… without it…? It did get me thinking and as I finished my pasta I realised that these guys were definitely onto something. I measured my few experiences against their mass of experience and came to a similar conclusion to them… don’t run your life for other people’s benefit - to the detriment of your own. The fact that I was frustrated at being gay and not having a boyfriend… or even a friend I could talk to… was also getting me down. Actually, since I’d met these two guys, only a few hours earlier, I’d never been so happy, well, with the possible exception of when I discovered my younger brother’s plastic pants. Not only had they welcomed me into their home, they had literally given me the instruments I needed to ‘mend’ myself. I was back wearing diapers, had a photo-shoot to look forward to where I’d get to wear all manner of babyish outfits and, no less importantly, I’d had two gigantic orgasms without so much as touching myself. I didn’t see how things could get any better. *** Once the plates had been cleared away, we sat and chatted some more before Tony presented us with dessert. I was full but soft ice cream, covered in strawberry syrup and with butterscotch mousse at the bottom of the large glass tumbler, which were all my favorites (how did he know), had me strangely drooling so, how could I refuse? I was overjoyed that they’d gone to such trouble… but before I had time to express my thanks… a large dollop of soft but sticky ice cream splattered against my cheek. I looked to see Michael armed with a second spoonful of the stuff aimed at his daddy. He let it go and the cold pudding exploded on his daddy’s chest. At the same time Tony had unleashed a second splodge of the stuff towards me, which hit me squarely in the eye. Thankfully, I was able to just scoop it off my face and eat it before I also loaded up my spoon and in rapid succession sent the stuff flying at my two hosts. Spoonful after spoonful flew through the air and hit their targets, not necessarily with any accuracy, but with plenty of laughter, giggling and promises of a severe tickling as a result of direct hits. Bits of my naked body, which were still exposed, were soon greasy with the remnants of the stuff… thankfully my bib and plastic pants took most of the sweet assault. *** After the ‘fight’ was over we all looked a mess but were still in a happy place as we’d laughed so much. My mind was not on my lack of employment but on how wonderful this father and son were together… and with me… a complete stranger. However brilliant my dad is… and he is… I could never see him having this much fun and I began to long for a similar relationship myself. It was then into the shower where Michael stripped me out of my splattered protection. In fact, I stripped Tony, Tony stripped Michael, and we all crowded together in the fairly spacious shower, where we had equally as much fun cleaning each other up. To begin with we licked each other clean of as much pudding as we could, which was also a fun and sexy thing to do before we finished off with a shower itself. Again, my hope was that all this licking, touching and erotic sensations that coursed through my body might just turn into something a bit more physical… but it didn’t. They noticed my stiff cock, in fact they were both incredibly well-blessed in that department themselves, but sex, unlike the pudding, was not on the menu. *** Once dried and back in the bedroom I realised how late it was and, as Michael had to be up early for work (he had to be out of the house and on his way by 6am) it was decided it was time for bed. Tony got his son ready; baby oil was rubbed in and powder liberally sprinkled before he applied a very thick cloth diaper, which he pinned on before fitting him into a pair of opaque plastic pants. Seeing this soft giant being treated as a little kid was brilliant to watch and there was fun and respect in the procedure that certainly got to me. Again there was that touch of envy which I wished I could lose. “OK Danny... oops sorry Daniel… your turn,” Tony patted the space next to his son and I crawled over to it in eager anticipation. After a brief discussion between the three of us, and in which my opinions were completely ignored, it was decided that, for this night at least I was to be double diapered. The two thick disposables were incredibly bulky and when they were topped by a similarly opaque pair of plastic pants like Michael’s my groin looked like a well blown up balloon… but Tony hadn’t finished. He produced a pale pink shorty onesie, which I had to climb into. There were no buttons or studs at the crotch as it was all one piece but the final touch was a zip up the back that held everything in. My arms were covered but my legs were bare and the image was like I should have been deposited straight into a large crib complete with a large pacifier. However, Michael rolled back the blanket, climbed in and patted the space for me to crawl in next to him. Meanwhile, Tony had pulled on a disposable and a pair of rather fetching navy blue plastic pants with ruffles across the bottom and climbed in next to me. As I settled between them they both hugged and cuddled me, which made me feel wanted and special. They were genuinely wonderful, thoughtful people who seemed to love each as well as others. Despite my dick desperately trying to get hard and gain some kind of relief, the bulkiness was a barrier to any external motivation. However, when Tony and then Michael both kissed me goodnight, I did what I’d done before and filled my diaper with my splurge. With the relaxing aftermath of such an intense orgasm I was grateful that I was where I was and couldn’t help thinking what a day it had been. I was happy and unbelievably content. *** I slept in short bursts. When I partially awoke and moved, even slightly, a comforting hand wrapped itself around me and I was drawn into a friendly cuddle. Our generous diapers felt really good rubbing up against each other and I enjoyed the thick, fullness between my legs. At one point I was desperate to go to the bathroom but I realised I didn’t want to disturb these two slumbering hunks. I waited for as long as I could but eventually I had no option but to let it flow. My double diaper did its work and the relief, followed by the warm glow soon had me drifting off again. When I woke up Michael had already left for work and I could hear Tony organising breakfast. My soggy diapers weren’t so comforting now and I was relieved to see that when I got up there were no damp spots where I’d slept… well done plastic pants. However, I couldn’t reach the zip on the back of the onesie so had to rely on Tony to release me from my cotton prison. Before he did, we sat at the table and had coffee and some bagels and chatted about what I could expect at the shoot. He’d been reading an email from Auntie Mary, which said that as well as stills shoot, she had one of her friends to come and capture various scenes on video. Apparently, these little movies would be made available to those who were members of her site or who had ordered goods. They would be just short, fun little set up scenes that, she said, would add value to the site by offering that little extra incentive. I was a bit nervous about this turn of events and, if it wasn’t for the feeling I’d be letting Tony and Michael down (and risk losing their friendship) I may well have called a halt to proceedings there and then. *** Once breakfast was over, and Tony had smiled throughout as I suppose he realised I was squirming in my messy diaper and had no way of getting out of it on my own, he unzipped me and set me free. He asked if I needed any help but I shucked it all off (my diaper was a very soggy mess) and headed for the shower. On my return Tony was waiting with powder and lotion and explained that he could diaper me now or at the studio. I didn’t mind wearing a diaper to travel in so went along with his suggestion, and to save time later. As we drove to the studio I felt snug in the tight fitting disposable that Tony had put me in. The thick rubber pants I didn’t think were necessary but, he’d slipped them on me before I had chance to say anything and they gripped me nicely around the waist and legs. I hadn’t wanted to wear my work clothes again, for me those days were now over, and, Tony had leant me a t-shirt and a pair of rather short shorts, which bulged out pretty impressively thanks to my protection. As I sat in the passenger seat the shorts rode up my thigh and exposed the rubber pants beneath but, guess what, I had gotten used to such things so any embarrassment I might once have had… was now gone. *** The studio was done out like a huge nursery, with a large crib, playpen, and all manner of childish things, but made for bigger hands. I thought they must have raided a TV set to get all the stuff but, as Auntie Mary told us, everything that was seen could be bought from her site. She obviously had other talented people, carpenters, plastic technicians, all sorts who she could call upon to design and make up any special orders that her customers desired. The morning was spent with me getting naked. Auntie made sure I was hair free and even cut the hair on my head to suit her style. Baby, who was in a very sweet little romper outfit with bunnies and ducks all over it, was always around with his video camera, poking it at me and zooming in and out on various items. He never got in Tony’s way, he was very aware of what needed to be seen and Auntie, who was dressed as a British nanny (not unlike Mary Poppins), occasionally joined me in certain scenes. Often it was just her leg or a piece of her apron, or her boots or her hand if it was either helping or chastising me. She was also very hands on and actually did most of the changes herself, making sure the fit was just right for the garment and to make sure I had the correct babyish attitude to carry it all off. She’d rehearse me a couple of time before I stepped in front of the camera and was fastidious about getting the right amount of bulge, droop, bagginess, tightness, petulance… in fact… I retreated to my childhood on more than one occasion and complained loudly. She wanted that grouchiness on camera so Tony kept taking photos as she scolded me… she was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. *** Some of her outfits were way over the top for me, like all-in-one rubber affairs, but fitted with masks and zips that gave access to various parts of the body. There were items that had straps, chains and openings where items could be inserted. Some were hard-core fetish but I preferred the baby and toddler pieces best. I really couldn’t get enough of all the cleverly designed covers, bibs, all-in-ones, coveralls… and there were elements in the range that I hadn’t seen before that really took my breath away… and I found very erotic to wear. Mainly, it wasn’t just the eroticism of the clothes, although I had messed in my ‘special’ way on three occasions before I was done, it was the pleasure of regressing so easily and loving that feeling. I just hoped those who would be wearing any of this clothing in future would enjoy them as much as I had. The last bit of the shoot was of just me and Auntie Mary’s daughter Maddy having a baby’s tea party. I quickly realised that Tony had decided that he wanted us to recreate the same sort of pudding fight that we’d enjoyed the night before. I was wearing another bib and a thick diaper in a pink plastic cover that fastened with Velcro around my tummy. It could be pulled very tight so the overstuffed diaper was very evident. Maddy wore a short satin party dress that showed off her matching frilly satin knickers, which again were bloated by a thick diaper. The cream and chocolate sauce went everywhere but it was a very enjoyable bit of silliness all caught on camera for the site ‘bonus’ scheme. I licked the stuff off her plastic coated satin knickers and she licked it of my voluminous plastic pants. Auntie Mary was very encouraging until the final shot when she came in and I was put across her knee and spanked. I remember seeing the last shot online and it was a pan up from my red bottom to a sobbing me sucking my thumb and looking a very sad and sorry little boy indeed. *** The shoot finished and I didn’t know what to do. I have to say that there were many of the items I would have loved to add to my own closet but they would have cost a fortune. However, Auntie had made two items just for me. One was a pair of shorty pajamas that were festooned with cartoon cowboys, the shorts of which had studs along the crotch for undoing and changing a messy boy like me, and the satin sailor suit, again with easy release pop studs, that I’d worn the day before and that had had such an effect on me. I was grateful that Auntie had gone to so much trouble. Unknown to me, Tony had brought my work clothes with him, and after I’d cleaned up he suggested I go home and let my parents know what I’d been up to. Just what I told them was up to me but I had visions of me arriving home in my suit and happily wearing a thick over-stuffed diaper underneath. However, as he handed me some money, which I supposed was the fee for the shoot, although we’d never actually agreed a sum, he said that as I was still without a job, he’d put his feelers out and see if he couldn’t find me something… more permanent. *** I wasn’t in a rush to go home, not exactly scared but doubtful that I could carry off the lie I thought would be necessary. I ended up back at his place and he asked if I shouldn’t ring home and let them know what I was doing but before I had chance, he received a call on his cell from Michael who said he might have found something for me. Both seemed excited at the idea so I called home to tell them that the drinking session ended fine and I wasn’t in any trouble but that one of my friends thinks he’d found a possible job so I was staying over another night to check it out first thing in the morning. They were impressed by my determination. I was impressed with the thick diaper that Tony had made me wear as we watched TV and relaxed. I was expecting a glass of wine or some sort of celebration but Tony said that, when I was in a diaper there was to be no alcohol, no drugs (which was fine because I didn’t do that), no grown up programs and definitely… no sex. Thankfully it didn’t mean stewed peas and mashed rice, or whatever it is babies have to eat, however, it did mean I was in for another sexually frustrating night sleeping between these two hunks… but, thinking about that, I suppose it wasn’t all bad. *** tbc
  14. Confession (Update 1-5 final)

    Confession Update Part 3 I froze and was about to leap to my feet when Tony pushed me back down onto the bed and continued to diaper me. All my clothes were in the other room and I panicked thinking we were about to be robbed by a burglar. The man mountain stood in the bedroom doorway wearing dirty shorts, a t-shirts, thick boots and a leather utility belt around his waist. He was smiling; “Hi daddy.” Tony nodded acknowledgement. “I can see you’re busy. I don’t want to interrupt anything” he turned to go. “Come in and meet Daniel.” His rapid fingers never stopped as he quickly had the diaper fastened tightly in place and he introduced me to Michael his son. Being all but naked I felt a bit embarrassed as I just nodded and Tony pulled a pair of yellow plastic pants from the draw under the bed. Michael came over, kissed his father, and ruffled my hair in greeting. He looked a few years older than me, had red hair like I assumed his dad had before he started losing it and looked like he’d come straight from a building sight, which was just what he had done. After a few seconds this twenty-something dirty but healthy looking hunk began to undress and was down to his black sweaty briefs in moments. He stood watching whilst his father fastened the pop-studs on my new plastic pants into place. I was mesmerised by this new vision, Michael was a hunk of a man and, with him just wearing his briefs, had a similar effect on me as did the satin sailor-suit. I nearly lost it when, once I was completely installed in my clean protection, Michael looked at me and smiled, “Daddy always does a good job… you look fantastic.” He was as encouraging as his father and looked stunning, all dust covered, grimy and wearing just his black, sweaty CKs. “I’d better get a shower.” *** As this hunk of masculinity disappeared into the bathroom I gave Tony a sort of look which I hope said “tell me more”. I was nervous of asking outright as I didn’t want to appear nosey but he was a fine looking guy and of course, Tony hadn’t mentioned he lived with anyone else. Meanwhile, my host had gone to the closet and pulled out a couple of much larger disposables and retrieved a small bag that Mary had left. He spread the diapers out on the bed and busied himself getting the baby oil and powder ready. I was intrigued and wondered what was going to happen. Shortly after a clean, pink (it must have been a very hot shower) and naked Michael returned drying himself off. “Let daddy do that…” Tony said as he took the thick towel from his son’s hand and proceeded to dry his boy thoroughly. It was only then that I picked up on the fact that he was ‘daddy’ and not ‘dad’. For some reason I didn’t think a guy the age and size of Michael would still be calling his father ‘daddy’… it just didn’t seem to fit. However, it all became clear when Michael lay out on the bed and his daddy applied the oil and powder to a pube-free groin then lovingly fastened him into the diapers. There was a glowing smile on Tony’s face throughout the procedure and Michael appeared to be very happy with what was happening. Finally, Tony opened the bag from Mary and took out a new pair of rubber pants. “Auntie has made these especially for you…” and he slipped them up his sons immense thighs. Pulling them over the thickness of two disposables the gaily patterned rubber cover looked massive… and it has to be said… sweet. Tony appeared as happy as his son with the result. *** Once Michael was all done up in his protection Tony disappeared to do other things while we were left to talk. To begin with, the conversation was about Michael’s day at work – he was the foreman on a building site that was being developed. Then he was interested in how I met his daddy so I repeated my story of job loss and my shameful ogling at this stranger in the park. He thought that was very funny but had to agree that his daddy sure was one hot guy. He pointed to my diaper and asked how long had I been into it. I told him about my little brother and how it all began, which he found very interesting and he appeared genuinely sad when I explained why I didn’t do my ‘little side’ as much as I used to. It was really nice to sit and chat to someone my own age (nearly), dressed in diaper and plastic pants. Although physically we were completely different; me being 5’6” and a little over 100 pounds, and him being 24, six feet and solid muscle, we had a great deal in common. As we chatted we stroked each other’s diapers and protecting covers, we both loved the sexy lustre, the sensuous feel and the sense of comfort and safety that it all offered. He was about to tell me how it all began for him when Tony called us through for a meal. We’d been sat on the bed for the entire conversation and just before we moved off to eat Michael leaned in close and without warning kissed me gently on the cheek. My cock, which had been throbbing since the two of us had been sitting so close together, suddenly shot an uncontrollable load into my diaper as he whispered “Welcome to the family.” *** Tony was standing at the range cooking and looked unbelievably sexy, the light in the kitchen somehow picking up the lustrous quality of his pink plastic pants. They held him tightly but there was a small bulge around his bottom where his padding was pleasantly emphasised. Michael’s bottom was well-padded and he waddled toward the table, while I felt tight, but well protected, in my diaper. Neither of us wore anything else until the meal was served up – I was dreading it being jars of mushed baby food but thankfully it was grown up cuisine – then Tony offered us something else that Mary had made for him, a selection of plastic bibs. Each one contained an image of a cartoon character, mine was SpongeBob, Michael’s was from Disney’s Cars and Tony’s, who told us that this was going to be part of a new range that Auntie (from this point on Mary was always referred to as Auntie) was promoting online, was of Winnie The Pooh. Using the Velcro fasteners and feeling incredibly silly, we put them on and set about the meal. I was famished. I also have to say that even in their childish bibs and diapers both father and son were fantastic specimens of manhood and I craved what these two had. It’s true, I did begin to realise that there was something ‘different’ about their relationship, and as we tucked into the very tasty pasta dish Tony had prepared, Michael explained what had happened. *** Despite the fact that when I first saw Michael I’d been scared of his size and bearing, I now liked this incredibly gentle hulk. Anywhere else I would have been greatly intimidated by such a self-confident figure, but, as he explained, he wasn’t always that way. They were father and son in name only, not in any biological sense. Michael was Tony’s ‘boy’ and had been for just over 10 years since Tony had discovered a frightened 14 year-old huddled in the cold. The young Michael had been thrown out of his home for confessing to his parents that he was gay and, with nowhere to go, had sat forlornly shivering and scared not knowing what to do next. He explained very proudly what a saviour Tony had been to him and hated to think what would have happened if this particular kind stranger hadn’t offered a helping hand. As I listened to his story I couldn’t help but to ask if he hadn’t been suspicious of Tony’s actions… Michael smiled at the man who was clearly still a hero in his eyes and said “Oh yes.” He went on to explain that being a trembling terrified kid all he wanted at that particular moment was something to eat and a place to get warm. On hearing the boy’s story Tony had offered to talk with his parents, take him to a friendly relation or accompany him to the police. Michael wasn’t keen on any of these courses of action and thought the police would only return him to his parents or send him to some institution… so his options were few and none of them appealed any more than going with this nice man who at least had offered to help. The upshot was, on the insistence that he still attended school, he could stay with Tony and if anyone asked he was to say that his parents were having problems so he was staying with a relation for a while. Again my nosiness continued. “Did he… erm… did he you know… make you…” I suddenly got cold feet about my question. “Did we have sex… that’s what you want to know isn’t it?” Michael interrupted my pathetic probing. “Erm…” “No.” He said emphatically. “Sex has never been a huge part of our relationship... and certainly not at that age… although it is a part now… but we have so much more…” *** The conversation continued and I was amazed at just how brave (and selfless) Tony had been by taking on such a young lad. Both dealt with my questions with humor, shyness and perhaps an outdated concept… love. I was slightly embarrassed about my intrusion so changed and lightened the subject to ask. “How about the diapers?” Tony had sat all but silent throughout my interrogation but their hands had touched and I could see the bond between them had not diminished over the time they’d been together. “Well that was… a bit weird.” Michael had brightened up a bit to tell this part of the tale. “One afternoon I arrived home from school and there at the kitchen counter was Tony dressed in nothing but a diaper.” He smiled at the thought. “I wondered if something had happened… or that he was having a joke… he was always joking with me… when he said it was something he liked to do.” “One of my many… many… many little quirks,” Tony confessed. “When I asked him why,” Michael continued, “he said he found it very comforting. It reminded him of a time when all was gentle, soft and loving… and he occasionally liked to relive those moments.” “Ah… happy days,” Tony said in mock wistfulness. “He’s taken it to new levels now… with Auntie and him and the ABDL crowd… but… despite my initial horror at the thought, within a couple of days… I wanted to give it a go myself.” They touched hands again. “So, one night, after a lovely relaxing hot bath I asked him if I could… you know… try it.” “I told him I’d be happy to but, he was under no obligation to spend any time dressed in a diaper if he didn’t want,” chipped in Tony. “I wanted him to enjoy the sensation but, if he didn’t get it, then that would be an end to it all.” *** “I wasn’t sure how to put the damn thing on so I asked Tony if he would do the honors. He had me lay out on the bed, powdered that area and folded a piece of cloth into a triangle.” “It was a piece of thick terry cloth… he looked both terrified and intrigued,” Tony added “but I pulled it up between his spread legs and pinned it tightly into place. Then pulled him to his feet and asked him how it felt.” Michael took over again. “It was weird… yet after a few faltering and waddling moments… I got it… I actually did love the feeling of being caressed by this enormous diaper and, as we watched TV together, I fell asleep still wearing it.” “Eventually I carried him still dozing back to his bed, tucked him in, kissed him goodnight and didn’t hear from him again until the morning.” “It was a great night’s sleep. After that, I wore them for bed on more occasions and before I knew it, I was changing out of my school clothes the moment I got home and insisted that I be put into a diaper.” “This was like… a month after he came to live with me and, I have to say, he had never seemed happier.” Tony added. “I just loved it… and when we started adding plastic pants and colourful covers, I became even happier, it was like I’d found something, something special for daddy and me…” I picked up on the word again, “So was that when you started calling him ‘daddy’?” “Yes… I suppose it was. I wanted to give the man who had literally saved me something back. I had nothing other than my love to give him but I thought calling him ‘daddy’, especially when I was in my protection… was my… that was… erm… recognising his… erm… influence on my life.” Michael may have been a muscular hunk now but he spoke in shy admiration about the man in his life. They looked across at each other again and that ‘childish’ term, accentuated by the colourful cartoon bibs, seemed to have a very strong bond between them. Ten years on and Michael would do anything for his ‘daddy’ and of course, Tony would do anything for his ‘son’… and they both appeared to have developed their ABDL side as I was soon to find out. *** tbc
  15. Confession (Update 1-5 final)

    Confession Update Part 2 I was ‘softly dozing’. I can’t put it any other way – I was at that point between sleep and being awake but it felt, well it felt, peaceful. I was aware of what was going on. I was still sucking, I was still being gently rocked and I was conscious of the fact that I was being cuddled, wearing a diaper, on a strangers lap, yet none of that seemed to matter. My wellbeing floated through my body as sweetly as the milk slipped down my throat – all nice and warming. As I ‘softly dozed’ I wondered more about Tony and the ease in which he’d taken control and I’d acquiesced without so much as a seconds thought. I think, in possibly any other circumstances, I would have run a mile from an old man in a diaper but there I was, unbelievably happy and with that man cooing softly, stroking my naked leg and making me feel I was in the safest place in the world. As I’ve gotten older myself, and the fact that I still live in my parent’s home, opportunities to regress were getting fewer and fewer. It wasn’t that mom and dad were always on the lookout for some quirk or abnormality I may have, but now that my younger brother David had gone off to university, I was the object of their parental attention. Despite the fact that I never felt under pressure from them to ‘change my ways’, I had, in my own way, been trying to wean myself off my love of diapers. I’d more or less stopped wearing them to work (thus the Hanes I’d been wearing) and it was rare for me to even sleep in a diaper, even though I found it very comforting, especially if I’d been stressed at work. So, this feeling I was experiencing in the arms of Tony, was soothing, joyful and intense. *** Inevitably the milk ran out and, as I was softly sucking in air, real life returned and invaded my brain. It was nice being where I was but I had to face reality; I was without a job and my prospects of gaining another were very poor. I looked sleepily into Tony’s eyes and whispered my thanks and made to rouse myself to go home and set about searching the net for jobs as soon as I could. He let me rise and patted my padded bottom and again praised the way I looked. I smiled sweetly and wished that that was enough to get me a new job, his reply was he was sure it would. As I searched around for my suit and tie and all the other stuff that meant I was a ‘responsible’ working man, I really didn’t want to take off what I had on. Those few hours that Tony had granted me were just about the best I’d experienced for quite some time and I was in no hurry to lose that feeling. Whilst I’d been gathering my clothes together he’d been on his cell and was talking to someone. He saw me about to remove the plastic pants but asked me to halt doing anything else until he’d finished his call. I stood in his living room all-but-naked and waited for him to tell me what was going on. When he returned he said he had some news which he hoped I’d be open to. *** “Do you have any qualms about what type of work you do?” He queried as he came back in to the main living room. “Not really.” I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m not particularly bright, my brother David got my brains,” I added with another shrug and knowing full well that academia hadn’t failed me, I’d failed it. “So apart from tutoring Stephen Hawking… I’m up for anything.” He laughed at my silly joke. “Well, the news is, I’ve found you a job.” I raised my eyebrows as he went on. “What about a little bit of modelling?” “Yep. I can walk and I can wear clothes so…” I shrugged again. “Oh, unless you mean building something…” but this time he shook his head and said that it would be photographic modelling. He explained that the shop downstairs, which sold baby clothes, was run by his sister and that she didn’t only make baby clothes… well she did… but she also made them for adult babies. He was full of praise for her talents and how she’d built up her business, on her own and from scratch, to being quite a successful enterprise. She now employed three women full time who made all the original clothes, both for babies and adults, she sold in her shop. However, and this was where I came in, she was about to put her new line of ABDL stuff online and on his suggestion, he’d convinced her to use a real model rather than have her items ‘lifeless’ on a dummy. He’d already sent a clip of me crawling around in the diaper he’d filmed earlier and she thought I would be ideal. His suggestion was that I – “Live out some of my fantasies and get paid for it”. *** I had my doubts. To actually be seen wearing baby stuff, well that was different than slipping something on before bedtime… wasn’t it? Tony agreed that it would be a brave thing to do but asked if I was ashamed of it all. I wasn’t sure how to answer because in some ways I was and in others I didn’t care what anyone else thought. As we talked things got clearer in my mind. Whether he convinced me or I had convinced myself I didn’t know but I agreed, thinking that really, I was without a job, chances of finding a job were slim and I’d be foolish to turn down any opportunity. I wondered if I could do the shoot wearing a mask. Tony said that some of the items did have masks as part of the design but he would suggest that if I wore a mask the entire shoot, it would look like I was very ashamed of what I was doing, and that wasn’t the image the AB shop wanted to promote. And besides he added, “Babies are never ashamed, there job is to look cute and be themselves.” His sister, Mary, was on her way up to chat about what was expected and what I’d be asked to wear. As we waited I asked him about the art that was surrounding us. He explained that he loved to encourage new artists, as he’d encouraged his talented sister, and was never happier than when he discovered a new talent, especially if they created something he actually liked. He said that sometimes he’d buy an object just to help the artist out, even if it was awful. He laughed that on those occasions his friends were very surprised with the gift they received for birthdays or Christmas and didn’t know whether to complain or be ecstatic. He always told them to keep it for a few years, as the value would increase. This promise, he told me, always seemed to work. Mary arrived with a bunch of stuff and asked me to try some of it on so she could make alterations should they be needed. She told me to keep the diaper on as I would be wearing something similar for most of the shoot and helped me in and out of a myriad of outfits. Onesies, shorty pajamas, plastic, rubber, satin diapers and covers, coveralls, sailors suits, romper pants… there were loads and loads of items that, to be honest, got me more and more excited about the shoot. Mary was enthusiastic and said that her daughter Maddy would also be joining me for a few of the photos where we were to be seen playing together. I couldn’t wait. *** We were still trying items on and checking stuff when I realised it was past the time I’m normally home. As the shoot was scheduled to start early the next morning Tony offered me a bed for the night, which I eagerly accepted. In my mind I had a fantasy of us going at it like rabbits, although so far, no real moves had been made by him. I called mom to tell her that I’d lost my job but that I was on the trail of another and that I planned on staying at a friend’s overnight as we were going out for a consoling piss up. She sympathised about my lost my job but warned me of getting too drunk and getting into trouble. This supportive style of mom’s always put me at ease so I assured her I wouldn’t. I don’t like lying to my family but I thought that the truth wasn’t an option, certainly at that moment, so I fudged the issue and hoped that it would all work out fine. As I tried on each unique piece of clothing I could only agree with Tony that Mary was a very talented woman. With each outfit I was mesmerised at the detail and workmanship, which she graciously credited to her small but talented workforce. There was no denying that once her designs hit the net, her clothing was going to be in huge demand. The problem I had was that I couldn’t wait to get started and each ensemble made me feel happily childish… but with a boner. I was very excited. However, the thick diaper I was wearing probably hid that particular fact from anyone else. *** Suddenly, it all became too much to bear. Mary had just removed my plastic pants and had slid a pair of blue satin panties back up to replace them. The silky soft feel caressed my legs and I could feel my dick straining inside the confines of my thick diaper. She then pulled a matching top over my head and the sensuously soft material, rippling down my naked skin had a similar effect… and I erupted. All the sensations seemed to conspire together and left me inwardly moaning and, without so much as a helping caress, my pulsating dick did what it had been waiting to do all day. At the moment of orgasm I closed my eyes and tried to stifle the scream of ecstasy that I’d felt building as each item of clothing had been slipped into place. In my head I’d been able to hide what was happening very well but when I opened my eyes, Mary and Tony both had huge grins on their faces. Mary was the first to comment. “I hope my clothes have the same effect on the customers,” she laughed, “I take that as a glowing and unsolicited testimonial.” “I wish I’d had the camera for that…” Tony glowed with humor and pride, “now that would have been something to put online.” “I’m so sorry.” I stammered. “But these clothes are… well… a real turn on. I couldn’t help myself. I am really ashamed.” “Don’t be.” They both chimed in together as I hoped the ground would open up and swallow me. “It really is the best kind of endorsement we can have. The girls will be thrilled when I tell them.” Mary said as she straightened the sailor inspired, blue satin romper-suit in position. Guiltily I looked up at the thought that others would soon be sharing my shame but both were adamant that it was all good. Afterward, as I tried on even more of her fabulous designs, their reassurances were helpful and positive. *** Once Mary had finished with all the alterations, measurements and had discussed the shoot with Tony (he would be the photographer) she left with arms full of items to be prepared for the following day. I was left wearing just my thick, now damp, diaper and Tony had, during the many costume changes, traded up into a pop-studded pink rubber diaper cover that hugged him very tightly. He was very pleased with the way things had gone and was enthusing about what he was going to do regarding scenarios at the photo studio. It was hard not to feel as motivated as he was and we were both excited at the prospect of what we were about to do. Remembering that I’d messed my diaper (and in truth a bit later I had also wet myself) Tony suggested that he should change me. We went to his bedroom and I happily let him take charge. He unpinned and removed my soggy diaper. His eyebrows rose as he noticed the amount that I’d deposited in the thing and smiled when he commented that I really had been excited. He wiped me down, oiled and powdered me and went to retrieve a diaper from a huge stack of disposables but, as he did so, the door opened and in walked a mountain of a man. *** tbc