[My Story 1-4 (end)]

Part 4

After nearly six weeks I stopped wetting myself as abruptly as I started. Mum made me wear a nappy at night but I kept waking up dry so she tentatively let me out of it. A couple of days without any kind of protection and I was back wearing normal underwear. I think it was a relief for everyone, especially my parents who saw it as justification for not sending me to see a shrink.

Perhaps weirdly after just a few days back wearing briefs I began to miss my nappy. It came to a head when I was playing with Kevin and I was getting very envious of his padding. At every opportunity I was peering up his shorts leg to catch a glimpse of his plastic protection. Soon we were play fighting which gave me the chance to feel his padding and rub the silky pants. We both giggled like school girls but I didn’t realise Mrs Woods was observing what was going on.

She knew that I’d stopped wetting the bed because mum had cheerfully returned all the spare nappies and disposables that she’d lent her.  Although mum was confident I’d not need them again Mrs Woods, unknown by me at the time, had insisted she keep everything “just to be on the safe side and in case of a repeat accident”. However, when she saw me and Kevin together and noticed my constant intrigue with his padding she put two and two together and got the correct answer.

As we boys were eating lunch in Kevin’s garden his mother asked if I was happy being back in briefs. I thought it was a strange question but I think the slight delay in my answer confirmed what she suspected.

*

Although I’d tried to be positive she saw that there was more going on and said that she’d seen my interest in her son’s padding. She said it wasn’t an accusation or criticism, and it was just between me and her, but she asked if I missed my nappy. I was shocked at her question but my uncomfortable wriggle and downcast eyes must have spoken volumes.

“OK,” she said looking straight into my eyes, “here’s a thought. Perhaps, when you are here playing with Kevin, you might like to wear the same as him?”

Although the idea was appealing I didn’t know how that could be accomplished without mum getting to know about it.

“It would be our,” she said spreading her hands to include Kevin, “little secret.”

I still wasn’t too sure.

“We can arrange play dates, sleep overs, all kinds of opportunities for you to be here… if that’s what you’d like. I’m sure your parents would be overjoyed about you spending more time with Kevin and I know he’d be delighted.”

I was in a dilemma. She knew what I wanted and offered me a solution, which, if I didn’t take would look like I didn’t want to spend more time with Kevin. However, if I did, I was scared mum and dad would eventually find out about my desire to wear nappies again and be disappointed… or worse.

Mrs Woods convinced me that wouldn’t be the case. Our secret would stay just that, but (and she seemed most adamant about this), I shouldn’t worry about liking to wear protection. She told me that there were lots of other boys around the world who liked them as well and I should do what I enjoyed.

*

I wasn’t too sure but she left the table and returned with a disposable and a pair of Kevin’s most colourful plastic pants. I put up no resistance as she pulled down my shorts and briefs and fitted me in them.  After checking that Kevin didn’t need changing she patted both our padded bottoms and sent us back out to play in the garden.

It was great to have that bulk back between my legs. There was a comforting feeling surrounding my groin whilst with every movement my entire body was reacting to the thrilling sensation. I don’t think the grin on my face could have got any wider as me and Kevin played and giggled throughout the entire afternoon.

Letting Mrs Woods put me in nappies became part of the game. She changed Kevin and me together so he knew I was wearing the same as he was, and he liked that idea. He’d tell me that we were brothers and, typical of his nature, would insist on sharing his toys with me. He really was fun to be with and, like the rest of his family, I loved being in his company so spent more and more time at the Woods’s home. When I stayed over, we’d both be running around his room dressed only in our protection (he had to wear them all the time anyway) and his little sister used to want to wear them as well if they came to play with us. Mr and Mrs Woods had a bunch of nappy clad kids running around and they seemed as happy about it as we kids.

Crawling in bed beside Kevin was also a treat. He wore thick protection all the time so, if I stayed over, I also wore something similar. We’d play-fight and giggle and make up silly stories and the feel of the plastic pants and bulky material made for a different sensation. Despite Kevin being the way he was, it never stopped him from being curious or experimental and his hands would regularly be all over (and occasionally inside) my nappy. He loved it when we rubbed up against each other, which often he’d instigate and I was more than happy to go along with. It was all wonderfully sensual without us having to think in those terms. We’d get quite excitable together and the giggling would stop as we earnestly brought ourselves to a gushing climax.

I’m sure his parents were well aware of what was going on because they saw the evidence of our sticky encounters whenever they changed us. I suppose they thought it was all part of growing up for Kevin and shouldn’t be made to feel guilty about something so natural. So, we boys experimented on a regular basis but I always let my best friend decide the pace and action. I have to say, Kevin taught me a great deal and although at times it felt quite intense, there was an underlying innocence. I’m not sure if I was deluding myself but, as I was doing it with my best mate, it was as if we were still toddlers just playing together and therefore unsurprisingly, there was no guilt attached to what we did.

*

My nappy loving ways began with an accidental bed-wetting but blossomed in to something more. I can’t explain it and I’m not sure I’d want to but I wear them quite often now. Not 24/7 but often and once I finish at University (I’m in my 3^rd year as a medical student) I’m hoping the opportunity and my desire will stay with me forever.

 

****

END

[My Story 1-4 (end)]

Part 3

It was a couple of seconds before anyone spoke and I could feel the waves of appalled silence covering me in shame. I knew immediately that I’d done wrong and it was father’s quiet but determined voice that broke through.

“Go to your room,” I could tell he was enraged but I just sat, unable to move and squirmed in my chair not daring to do anything.

“ROOM NOW.”

That wasn’t a command I could ignore and I tore away from the table and scurried up to my bedroom. I sat on my bed holding the disposable and wishing my life was over when dad came in.

He came and sat down beside me and almost gently pulled me over his lap. This time my spanking was over my shorts but dad has a firm hand and it hurt; I was crying shortly after the first smack.

*

Once he finished and I was roaring buckets he stood me in front of him and made me listen to what he had to say. My bottom was stinging but he wouldn’t let me rub it as he held my arms down at my sides as he looked into my tear streaked face and told me how disappointed he was in my comment.

“Why would you say that about Kevin? He’s been you best friend since you were babies and you call him stupid.”

I desperately wanted to tell dad about my dream, hoping that would explain everything, but somehow I couldn’t get any words to form, possibly because I was trying to stop my uncontrollable sobbing.

“Son, I realise this is all very difficult for you but that is no excuse for your current behaviour.” His voice was calm, any anger had been transferred to my throbbing bottom.

“You promise your Aunt Sally that you’d be her page boy and then upset her by changing your mind… it’s her special day and you've spoiled it. She was so grateful when you agreed. Then you have a go at your best friend.”  He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe I’d been so hurtful to people I liked. 

Although my tears were slowly stopping another feeling suddenly became apparent, I was wetting myself and I couldn’t stop. Dad shook his head as he saw the wet patch spread across the front of my shorts and then the excess run in a rivulet down the inside of my thigh.

I was still in a state of shock and it didn’t register straight away but when it did I was sure I would be punished again.

“Sorry… sorry daddy,” I gulped in fear of his retribution, “s s s sorry”, I filled up, “I couldn’t help it daddy.”

There was a towel hanging over the end of the bed from my earlier shower so he grabbed that and started mopping up.

I didn’t know I had any left but the tears started all over again as I stood shamefully in front of my father. He hugged me. Not what I was expecting as I was sure I’d get another spanking. He hugged me until I was all out of tears.

*

Once I’d stopped he laid me out on the bed, pulled off my soaked shorts and briefs and wiped me completely with the last remaining dry area of the towel. Then he rubbed lotion and sprinkled powder all over before reaching for the discarded disposable which he knew was dry. I cowered as he re-fit it but I dare not say anything. Dad was watching me with concern but had other things he wanted to say as he pulled up the plastic pants.

“I never want to hear you say anything unpleasant about anyone, least of all Kevin, ever again. Do you understand?”

I was in no position to argue and I was feeling a bit ashamed. I nodded my agreement.

“Also, you are going to be Aunty Sally’s page boy next week,” I wriggled uncomfortably knowing I had no alternative. He smiled, “And you will look wonderful.”

I was now back in my night time protection and wondered how I was going to explain it when I went out to play. Dad rummaged around in another draw and found a pair of David’s much larger shorts that fitted over my nappy and hid most of the bulk. It would only be noticeable if I bent over and I had no intention of doing that.

“OK Champ, do we understand each other?”

I nodded.

“Good, then you go and call your Aunt Sally and tell her you’ve changed your mind and how much you are now looking forward to her wedding and being her special page boy.”

“Aww dad, do I have to… can’t you do it.” I whined but he just shrugged and said if I wanted to be taken for a man I should act like one.

So I called - aunty was excited and pleased I’d changed my mind and said how brilliant I’d look. I was sort of glad that I’d made her happy even though my bottom was still smarting and I was wearing a nappy. Mum was also delighted and hugged me, she patted my padded bum and only then realised what I was wearing. I don’t know if she knew I’d wet myself or if she thought it was some kind of punishment, but it felt pleasant that she was cuddling and stroking me the way she did. However, my breakfast had gone cold and been cleared away so I had to make do with a bowl of cereal.

*

Steph and David had gone out, dad was doing a bit of gardening and mum was washing up so I was at a loose end. I went next door and asked if Kevin could play out and we ended up enjoying ourselves in his back garden, oddly enough, pushing trucks around not unlike my dream. I’d always known Kevin wore a nappy but it had never been of interest to me, but now as we both scrambled around making truck noises and having fun, I noticed his padding and plastic pants and I’m sure he noticed mine because at one point he stroked my bottom and giggled. I could see up his shorts leg that he had a bright yellow pair of plastic pants with Disney characters all over them, holding his nappy in place. It occurred to me at that moment that I was actually wearing his nappies and plastic pants that mum had borrowed and for some reason this made me chuckle as we ‘vrooomed’ and ‘beeped’ around his  garden highway.

Kevin is a lovely friend. He’s always enthusiastic, always smiling, always the first to do something fun and silly that has everyone gleefully sharing his joke. Although he’s almost eighteen months younger than me we get on really well and as we played I realised what an awful person I was to call him stupid. I felt guilty and wanted to apologise but, there would be no point because he didn’t know what I’d said. I just hoped I could stay his friend forever.

Sue and Beth came to join us in the garden; both girls dressed like pretty toy dolls but that didn’t stop them because soon they were scrambling around the garden like me and their brother. They even brought reinforcements; a zoo of stuffed animals, dolls, dinosaurs and Kevin’s action figures. The trucks were transporting people to the far flung corners of the shrubbery, vegetable patch and dust bins - our empire was vast.

The weekend passed off without a great deal of activity except I went round to Aunty Sally’s to try on the kilt. Meanwhile, dad had found loads of photographs of men and boys in kilts and challenged me to find one that looked in the least bit girly… I couldn’t. They all looked brilliant and I felt a bit silly creating a crisis over something where there wasn’t one. 

*

Mum and dad insisted I wear night time protection and, as I’d wet myself on several occasions, I didn’t feel I could complain. I might go one night without wetting but was often soaked most mornings though, thanks to the plastic pants, I never leaked onto the bed. I’d also got used to wearing whatever mum or dad put me in, disposable or fabric, I didn’t dare complain again so just put up with it. If I was tired enough I dropped off without so much as a crinkle, which I’m sure pleased David.

On the Wednesday I was at school and reading my part of a story that was being passed around the class. I had read before so I wasn’t scared, although some other kids hated reading aloud but as I stood to start I got a strange feeling in my stomach. Almost at the same instant I felt the pee rush into my shorts and begin to trickle down my leg. I was horrified and my painful stomach reacted together with my bottom and I messed my shorts. The entire class gave a loud collective “Uuuurrgggh Phhheeewww ”, whilst the kids nearest to me darted for the doorway.

I stood in the nurses office crying. She’d helped me out of my messy shorts and briefs and was cleaning me up. Meanwhile, the headmistress had phoned mum to tell her what had happened and to come and collect me with some spare clothes. Once cleaned up I was wrapped in a towel to await the arrival of mum. As I waited the nurse decided I better wear some protection in case I had a further accident so she slipped me into a disposable nappy. I was not in any position to complain and in truth it felt better than sitting naked.

Mum arrived with some clothes and pretty soon I was being led away but first we had to meet with the head. She asked mum if this was a problem and had it happened before. I felt silly sitting there in my shorts but with a huge disposable clearly visible at the waistband and leg holes. Mum explained that for the past week or so, I’d been having wetting and the very occasional messy problem at night. The head listened to mother taking notes and suggested that maybe I should see someone and find out what was the cause. Mum agreed that they had been hoping it would just blow over but perhaps the head was correct, they needed to address the situation. However, the headmistress was also adamant about my future at the school. She said that when I returned I needed to be wearing protection and that I should bring some spare disposables or nappies that the nurse would keep, until everyone was certain that it wouldn’t happen again. Despite my sobbing and squirming about in my nappy, mum could do nothing but agree to the head’s terms.  

*

So Thursday and Friday saw me wearing protection to school. I didn’t want to go but both my parents insisted so I had no say in it. Of course all my class mates knew what had happened and indeed the entire school knew about it so it came as no surprise that I was ribbed constantly in the playground. The problem was, with the other kids picking on me I got even more nervous and filled my nappy more often. The nurse did her best to make sure the disposable wasn’t too noticeable but my shorts hardly hid anything and as everyone knew, I became the school’s ‘big baby’ that some of the girls found endearing and protective of, whilst others were pleased it wasn’t them.

My wetting got worse and I found that I didn’t really want to be a page boy at auntie’s wedding but dad wouldn’t let me back out again. So I found myself feeling very aware of the bulky, shiny nappy under my kilt. Mum had found some blue plastic pants that sort of matched the tartan kilt and hoped that would look better. However, all the little kids at the wedding seemed keen on looking up the page boy’s ‘skirt’. I was constantly holding my kilt down trying to prevent exploring, curious little hands from groping and pulling at me. Standing in the ceremony I couldn’t help but feel the tight bulkiness I was wearing and dreaded I might have an accident in the middle of them taking their vows and me handing them the ring. However, mum had made sure I was so firmly wrapped and protected nothing would have escaped that soft watertight prison. I was having a terrible time except when singled out by the groom for a special mention and thanks - I received a present for my ‘wonderful and esteemed services’. Even if the kids saw me as a joke all the grown-ups thought I looked terrific and everyone was taking photographs of me. No matter where I was people wanted me in their shot and I don’t think there was an adult there who at one time or another didn’t pat my bulky tartan bottom. It seemed that the kilt was much admired by most of the guests so I was feeling a little better about it once it was all over.

*

The doctor had no solution to my problem. He could find nothing physically wrong with me, didn’t think that the spanking had anything to do with my current state (just coincidence) but, if my parents wanted to, there was a child psychologist he would recommend.

Mum and dad were both doubtful about this and I’d sort of got used to wearing my protection all the time now. I didn’t particularly like it, but it had given me some confidence back as I no longer worried about being seen wetting myself; as mum had said earlier, ‘Thank God for plastic pants’ because they really did keep a lid on my damp problem.   

It was strange to see my nappies and Kevin’s blowing on the washing lines in our respective gardens. Our plastic pants adding a colourful note amongst the squares of white, whilst mum and Mrs Woods sat having a cup of tea and planned what their two wet little pups needed next.

My night and day wear were beginning to be much the same; thick absorbent padding and thick protecting plastic pants. Sometimes, if I wet myself whist playing over with Kevin, Mrs Wood would change me and I’d end up wearing a pair of his brightly coloured Disney plastic pants, which I have to say, I really liked.

In fact, I liked the whole thing. Mum and dad fussing over me, the comfort of a nappy, the friendship of Kevin, the support of the Woods as well as David and Steph and the fact that a pair of plastic pants would always keep me safe and secure.

***tbc***

[Padded Travel]

Padded Travel   

The other day I was waiting for my flight at the airport and saw a sight that brought back some mixed, though in general, happy memories. There was a young girl about 6 or 7 sat reading a book resting on her knees with her feet on the seat and her little blue summer dress had risen up innocently showing what she was wearing underneath. What caught my eye were the shiny pale blue plastic pants that were obviously covering a thick diaper. I didn’t want to stare too long but it reminded me of the time when my parents used to put me into diapers for long journeys.

The mother was sat next to her but I don’t think she saw me looking however, shortly after I saw this particular sight; she called to her son, who was watching the nearby TV screen. The boy, about 10 or 11 was wearing a pair of blue and grey checked shorts and he also appeared to be protected because when he reached over to pick up a toy he’d dropped, the gap between his t-shirt and shorts showed the top of his diaper. Once I knew he was dressed that way, it became obvious from how he was wearing his shorts that he was also very well padded indeed. Unfortunately, pretty soon after this event the father, a very good-looking man in his late twenties, wearing pale blue chinos and a brilliant white polo shirt, arrived and hurried them all off to their flight. They looked a really nice family group as they gathered up their belongings, and the children’s colourful cases, and hurried their way to the departure gate. Neither child seemed distressed by, or even conscious of, what they were wearing for the flight. They, like their parents, appeared to be just excited by their trip and that was all.

****

I’m not a father myself but I always think that having your children well-padded for long flights seems to be such a prudent idea, as kids can suddenly get the urge to go at the most inopportune times and often holding it is not an option. Such precautions seem sensible and cuts down on any anxiety from parents and airline companies. No-one really wants to be left with a wet seat.

The reason I think that way is because although I was potty-trained from an early age, when we embarked on any journey of any significance in the family car, I was always diapered for the duration. I do remember that this was because once, when I was 4 years-old, I fell asleep in the back of the car and accidentally wet the seat. Dad was furious, although he didn’t shout or scream at me he just sternly mentioned that we’d have to take more care the ‘next time’. Little did I know that the ‘next time’ meant I was to be well padded.  

A few weeks later, before we set off to visit my Aunty Joan and Uncle Jon, my mother said that she would supervise my getting ready as she had something I needed to wear. At the time I had no inkling to what she had in mind but it soon became apparent when I got out of the bath, dried myself off and saw the clothing she’d put out.  There on the bed, taking pride of place between my navy blue shorts and red t-shirt was a triangle of material that I didn’t at first register what it was for. In my innocence I thought it must be some kind of shawl to keep me warm on the journey… that is until my mum arrived and told me exactly what it was for. I screamed and shouted in protest; “I didn’t want to wear a diaper.” “I was a big boy not a baby.” “I was too old to be in such a thing” or even worse “What would people say?”

Bless her, my mum tried to calm me down and assured me that no-one else would know, it would be just me, her and dad… it would be our secret. She said all the correct things but I was still crying and refusing to let her put it on me… that was until my dad arrived saying we were late and to get a move on. I still protested but dad, who in all my 4 years on Earth had hardly ever raised his voice to me, never mind a hand, sat me down and explained why it had to be this way and there was no question about it.

It was a company car for one and he took colleagues and visitors around in it and he couldn’t risk it not being anything but perfect for them (he was very car proud, constantly washing and cleaning it). He assured me that as soon as we reached our destination I could change back into my normal underwear but he was adamant, that on this occasion, I would put on what my mother had already sorted out for me to wear for the journey. He stood and watched as my mum fitted and pinned the thick terry towelling to a rather recalcitrant young man but in truth, once my shorts, t-shirt and jumper had been added no one else would have been able to tell that I was padded.  Although I knew and I thought it felt really strange and uncomfortable but an argument would not be permitted, dad had made it clear that any more protest would not be tolerated.

****

The journey to my aunts was quite long and we stopped for breaks and food along the way. Together with my dad, we went to the restrooms and he helped me skin down my shorts and ease my little penis past the leg holes of the diaper to pee. I was making a point… that I hadn’t really needed to be wearing this bulky item as I could be relied to get to the restroom in time if need be, However, I did fall asleep on the last leg of the trip and, on getting out of the car realised that I had, wet myself. 

Once at my aunties I was glad to see that at least my shorts didn’t show any evidence of what I’d done and I couldn’t wait to get to my room and change out of the increasing dampness that was clinging to my groin. I thought I might get away with it too but my mum followed me upstairs to unpin me and she saw my embarrassment. I wasn’t very wet but there was no denying what I’d done as my mother ran her hand over my soggy diaper.  I was on the verge of crying again but she pulled me to her bosom and comforted me. Telling me what a good boy I’d been and saying that was what all the precautions were for… so not to worry. She quickly got me changed and I was soon wearing my little red nylon swimming trunks and eager to go out to play with my two cousins who were already splashing around in their little inflatable pool outside.

My cousins, JJ (Jon Junior) was 6 and his younger brother Si (Simon) was the same age as me and we had a great time firing our water-pistols, throwing water over each other and generally doing what kids do. Our parents were out in the garden chatting and catching up and although we were constantly under their ever watchful eyes we were only called in once and that was to eat. Uncle Jon and my father had made a fantastic barbeque and we boys feasted on sausage and chicken and soda. It was a warm night but at 8 o’clock it was bedtime and the three of us reluctantly trooped in to get ready.

Si and I went to the bathroom first to wash the sauce from our fingers and faces and mum came in to supervise we had cleaned everywhere. When we came out of the bathroom JJ was already lying naked on his bed and his mum was getting him ready but I was surprised to see that he was in the final throws of having a diaper put on. Once he was done she called Si to go over to her and he was similarly equipped, though a pair of clear plastic pants were put over his before his pajamas were pulled up over them all. I was shocked but the two boys didn’t seem to mind and suddenly I found myself similarly being diapered by my aunt. I was about to protest when my cousins told me to hurry up as they were waiting for their story.  I’d not been sent to bed in a diaper for a long time so I was a little worried about it, especially when a pair of plastic pants was also added to my night time experience.  When my mum arrived with my pajamas she could see what was happening and the worried look in my eyes but knew the other boys were already in their night time protection so decided not to make a fuss. I felt betrayed and the thickness around my bottom, as I climbed into bed with Si, only added to that feeling. However, Aunty Joan had told JJ and Si that my mum was going to tell them a story tonight but after that, it was lights out… and we were told in no uncertain terms… no fooling around until morning.

My mum is a great story teller. In fact, Aunty Joan always said that even as a child (mum was the eldest by 2 years) she could make up a decent story in seconds. I was still none too happy but Si cuddled up close to me in his little single bed, JJ was on his own in one opposite, and mum began her tale of three rabbits, which just happened to be called JJ, Si and Les.  It was a great story and we were all enthralled. Si clung to me for dear life as mum told of the perils these little rabbits got themselves into and we cheered when they escaped the clutches of the farmer and Foxy the Fox.  When she’d finished she kissed us all goodnight, turned out the light and closed the door. JJ voiced the opinion that my mum was the ‘bestest story-teller ever’ and as Si held onto me he eagerly agreed. We must have quickly fallen asleep because the next thing I knew we were being roused to get up for breakfast.

****

Aunty Joan came in and checked the boys to see if there had been any accidents in the night. JJ was dry but both Si and I had woken up with a soggy diaper so the plastic protection had been needed. “No more drinks after 6 o’clock for you boys” she said, as we realised that the huge glasses of cola we’d drunk had found their way into out diapers. Once all cleaned up and powdered (this was another new experience for me) it was back into out t-shirts and shorts, as after breakfast we all went down to the lake for more swimming, fishing, sun bathing and play.

For the entire week we were there on vacation the days followed a similar pattern; we boys were kept busy and interested as we daily went on expeditions with one or all of our parents. Night times became the norm as well and I soon got used to being diapered for bed. As the nights had grown hotter we slept in just our diapers and sometimes, just before bedtime, we were allowed to stay up and watch TV a bit later than normal. We three lads would be laid out on the floor glued to the screen, naked but for our thick diapers, while our parents sat on the two available sofas and quietly chatted about whatever it was grown-ups found to talk about. I think my mum enjoyed seeing us kids dressed like that as she often patted our padded bottoms, whilst telling us how cute the three of us looked. Neither JJ nor I wet again but unfortunately Si did ever night. He always woke up soggy but he never leaked because both me and the bed were always dry. No one seemed to care and he was changed, lotioned and powdered (to prevent a rash Aunty Joan said) in front of us before donning his shorts for the day.

****

It was a great week and I hardly thought about it when it was time to return home and I was required to be diapered once again for the journey. This time I didn’t make a fuss as I’d gotten used to it and as no one ever seemed to give it a second thought I also didn’t worry about being padded. In fact, I ‘d got quite comfortable wearing such a bulky piece of material between my legs on a night and as both Si and JJ took it as read that was the way everyone went to sleep… it was easy for me to accept it as well. Before I left Si had cried because we’d become great friends and he didn’t want me to leave as he said he’d miss me. Thoughtfully, mum had bought two new teddy bears, one for him and one for me so that we’d both have similar soft toys to sleep with and to remind us of each other. She also bought JJ a fabulous toy car to go with his collection, which he was really excited about receiving.  I was a little sad myself as we waved our goodbyes but after only a couple of hours on the journey home I fell asleep clutching my new teddy bear.

****

As he wanted to get home quickly, and I was fast asleep, dad didn’t need to stop once as we hurried along the highway. I woke up when were about 30 miles from home feeling more than a little damp. Dad looked in the mirror and told me we were almost there so I kept quiet but suddenly found I couldn’t hold it any longer and was peeing even more. The wetness spread but unfortunately I wasn’t wearing any plastic pants and a damp patch appeared on my shorts as we turned into our driveway. I dreaded the thought of having wet the seat but I rushed from the car and quickly followed mum into the house desperate to get my soaked diaper off.  Mum saw the wet patch on my shorts and followed me to my room where she stripped me and told me to take a shower. Whilst I was doing that, she went and checked the rear seat of the car where I’d been sitting and reported back that it was dry and I wasn’t to worry.  Relieved that I wouldn’t be in trouble with dad, I let my mum dry me off and before I was really aware of what was going on, she had powdered me and put me back into a lovely soft diaper, pulled on a pair of clear plastic pants, that I assumed must have been a spare pair of Si’s and told me I could either go straight to bed if I was tired or come down and watch TV for a while. Neither suggestion worried me and I cuddled up on the sofa wearing just my diaper and plastic pants as if this was the norm.

That was it. From then on until I was ten years-old I wore diapers and plastic pants to travel in and most nights I wore them to sleep in. I didn’t wear them during the day for school or at weekends but at night I was now wrapped in a thick terry diapers, which mum took great pride in pinning tightly around me.  It was all very comforting. Mum doing that, then telling me a new story or just chatting about what I’d done that day. She would make sure my teddy bear, the same type that Si had, was always with me and that last kiss goodnight made my world so much better.

****

We visited my aunt and uncle at least once a year but they never came to us, Uncle Jon hated the city and was never keen to travel far from his home. When I was ten my mum and dad were off on a second honeymoon. I was told that when they got married they hadn’t been able to afford a real one so they had waited until they had enough money and would then celebrate in style. They went off to The Bahamas for two weeks without me but I was happy enough as I got to spend more time with JJ and Si. We still had a great time but the boys had grown up and neither now wore diapers for bed so I also wasn’t required to wear them either. At home I’d got into the habit of wearing them even though I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d needed to use them for the purpose they were designed for. I just found it nice to be wrapped up like that and mum was happy with that choice. Anyway, I wasn’t at home now and my diapers were never unpacked and I wasn’t asked about them. It was just assumed I’d be like my cousins and wear normal big boy clothes.

****

So, that was it. My parents returned home fully refreshed and looking even more in love than before and I was now grown up enough not to need any protection at night. I didn’t mind, I was ready to be a big boy but it came as a bit of a shock when, about 4 months later, mum told me I was about to have a baby brother or sister. I wasn’t sure what my reaction should be but as both her and my dad was so excited about it; I thought I should be as well.  A few months after that I got my baby brother Joshua and there would be no doubt from then on I was to be the older, wiser and grown-up big brother.

It was strange that all those thoughts came scrambling back into my head just because I’d caught sight of two children at the airport wearing diapers to travel in. The waiting at an airport had never seemed to go by as fast when I suddenly heard my name being called over the public address system. “The last and final call for passenger Mr Lee travelling on flight AA2003 to Los Angeles…” I quickly picked up my case and proceeded to the required gate feeling guilty about daydreaming and keeping everyone waiting.  It wasn’t that bad and as I took my seat I couldn’t help getting the urge, when I got home, to buy some diapers and plastic pants and happily regress to a time when I felt my most happy.

After all, no matter what our age… isn’t that what we all want to feel… HAPPY?

**********$************

[My Story 1-4 (end)]

Part 2

I woke up in a sea of dampness. I’d really peed myself and my nappy lay on the floor at the side of the bed bone dry. Mum came in and saw what had happened and was quite angry at both the bed wetting and removal of my night time protection.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She seemed irritated by the whole thing, “Look what has…” Exasperated she held up the untarnished garment. “Why did you take it off?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I was nervous because I’d never seen mum look so annoyed but I was sure she’d understand. “It was irritating me so I…”

“So you thought we went to all that trouble to keep you and your bed dry for fun?”

“But mum… I… er… I couldn’t sleep… er… I…”

“Well that’s it young man. I have a good mind to let you sleep in these wet sheets and see if that changes your attitude.”

She was mad and I looked stupid standing in just my PJ top and my lower half naked. My bottom and willy feeling cold because they were still damp but mum ordered me to get ready for school.

When I returned my bed had been stripped and I could hear her setting the washing machine going. As I pulled on my uniform I looked at the plastic sheet covering the mattress, which still had a few streaks of liquid visible, and felt really guilty that I’d given mum more work to do. It was Friday and dad had said that my problems should be over by the weekend so I was hopeful that everything would get back to normal soon.

*

When I got home mum told me that Aunty Sally, her sister who was getting married the following weekend, had a problem. Cousin Tommy, who was eight years-old, blond, blue-eyed and cute as a button and who was going to be her page boy, was in hospital after an accident, so she needed a replacement. As I was roughly the same size as him mum had volunteered me as an alternative. She looked a bit apprehensive as she mentioned this but, as we were going as guests anyway I didn’t mind.

Aunty Sally was one of my favourite relatives so I thought it would be quite good helping her out. Mum seemed relieved and nervously smiled as she said that we’d have to go round for a fitting as the page boy had a uniform to wear. As I was still wearing my school uniform at the time I suspected it would be something similar and asked when we needed to go. She said we’d nip round after tea and added that aunty would be so pleased that I’d agreed to be part of the ceremony. A phone call later and I could hear the excited squeals from the other end of the phone as mum told her sister I was up for it.

I was quite looking forward to seeing aunty again. By next week she’d be Mrs Richard Black and I’d be there to help her take her vows, I wasn’t sure how,  I’d only been too one wedding before and although I was bored I thought it was quite spectacular… especially the reception afterwards.

At the door aunty greeted me with kisses and thank-yous, she was very excited about the prospect of her upcoming nuptials (as mum had called them) and I’d just made the whole thing come together as planned.  Mum watched as she tried on her flowing wedding dress and everyone was in tears, well I wasn’t but I could tell it meant a lot to all the women who were there. After which it was my turn and I followed Aunty Sally into her bedroom where she showed me what I’d be wearing.

I was stunned. It was a skirt. I was expecting a little suit or a top hat and tails like the groom and ushers were all going to be wearing… I didn’t want to be wearing a skirt. My enthusiasm drained from my body and a loud scream of “Noooo” escaped my mouth.

“Don’t you like it? Don’t you think a kilt looks so smart?”

I shook my head staring at the skirt she was holding up. No way was I going to wear such a thing, everyone would laugh at me… no I definitely wasn’t going to wear it.

Mum must have heard my cry of horror and came in to see what the problem was. Aunty Sally turned to her looking a bit crestfallen.

“He won’t wear it. He doesn’t like the kilt. I thought he’d look smart…” She implored mum.

“Yes he will look smart.”

I noticed the ‘will’ in there and started to scream that I would never wear a skirt in public and obstinately said nobody could make me.

Mum grabbed my hand and angrily pulled me to her. “You will wear this lovely kilt. You’ve already promised that you’d be your aunt’s page boy… and you’re not going to let her down.”

“But… but… but that was before I knew she wanted me to dress as a… a… girl.” I shrieked in dismay.

“It’s not a girl’s skirt. Men wear them all the time in Scotland. It looks very smart and you will look wonderful.”

I think mum thought that was the end of it but I just folded my arms and in a huff marched out of the bedroom and went to sit in the car.

A few minutes later mum came out looking very angry. I don’t know if anything else was said but my mind was made up… a definite “NO”.  I was sure she was going to smack me like dad had but instead didn’t say anything we just drove home in silence. When we got home it was getting late and she told me to get ready for bed. I was glad because the atmosphere was definitely very frosty but I was determined I wasn’t going to be a page boy anymore if it involved wearing a ‘skirt’.

*

Mum came up to supervise the nappy and this time she made no bones about it, if I shrugged it off then I’d get a spanking. I complained that it was too tight, too uncomfortable, too big but mum pinned me in (and added extra pads to soak up any extra pee) pulled up the plastic pants and said that she bet Kevin wasn’t half as much trouble.

That comment stuck in my mind and I wondered if people thought I was ‘like’ Kevin and had the same problems because he wore a nappy all the time. Once mum had left the room I tried to get comfortable but was really worried in case anyone actually thought I was the same as Kevin, and therefore also had learning difficulties.

I fell asleep but my dreams were about bigger boys yelling after me and Kevin as we played together. We were both wearing large nappies under our shorts but the ruffled tops at the waistband could be seen. The bigger boys were laughing and calling us, “stupid little babies”, and that made me cringe. Kevin easily ignored them but their chants and sneering were really winding me up; I felt humiliated and very childish. Even as they looked on I was trying to pull my nappy off, to prove I didn’t need one but it just wouldn’t budge. I was getting frustrated and annoyed when more people, grown-ups as well as older kids, showed up and started ridiculing our babyish ways. Not that we were doing anything babyish, we were just playing with our trucks, but they inferred it was something only toddlers would do. One of the boys said we both looked “…as dumb as each other, no wonder we were kept in nappies”, and that really hit home. Unfortunately, while struggling with the pins and various folds to release the nappy, I filled it, both front and back, which set the growing audience off mocking us more… and me in particular.

*

David was shaking me awake and saying I was having a bad dream. I had no idea of the hour but I was sure it wasn’t getting up time.

“Oh dear,” David looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and disbelief, “Have you crapped your pants?”

He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“No, I… I… er…” But I could sense that there was indeed something filling my nappy and it wasn’t just a touch of damp.

“I’ll get mum.”

“No,” I begged, “Please don’t, I’ll get into trouble if she finds out.”

I started to cry but David was more interested in getting me sorted out and the smell to go so he could get back to sleep.

Mum followed David to my bed and slowly pulled down the blanket I was clutching tightly to reveal the full disaster. Thankfully, the plastic pants had kept anything from leaking onto the bed but she could see that the pads and nappy had absorbed a great deal. She helped me out of bed and guided me to the bathroom. I don’t think it had ever taken me so long to walk those few yards. I waddled and felt the slimy stuff rubbing against my bottom and willy; it was awful. There were no words of sympathy from mum this time, she appeared not only half asleep but still pretty angry with me.

“Thank God for plastic pants,” she said as her firm fingers slowly rolled them down my legs.

Unpinning the nappy she held it in place so it didn’t slop everywhere but the smell was quite overpowering. I suppose mum had experienced worse when we were all babies but it was terrible. Eventually she had me cleaned up and I was surprised to see that there was a spare nappy ready. I had no idea she’d borrowed so many but this was a disposable. Mum, looked down at me spread out on the floor and slipped the disposable into place. Once she’d rubbed in some lotion and powdered the area she put another two soaker pads in and pulled it tightly up between my legs then taped it into place. The mess-saving plastic pants were next and then she guided me back to bed.

All the way through the procedure I was crying, apologising and crying some more but mum hardly said a word. Once in bed I was exhausted but mum left without any soothing words or even a kiss, which surprised me. David had already fallen back to sleep so, looking for some comfort I pulled teddy in with me, snuggled down and dropped off straight away.

It seemed only a few minutes later that the sun was up, David and Steph were arguing about who was going to use the bathroom first (Steph won), and I was feeling down the front of my nappy and thankful I was dry. I also think I’d slept better in the disposable than I ever would have done in the fabric nappy. When mum came in to check me out I was happy that I hadn’t wet again but she just nodded, which left me a bit deflated. I thought she’d be pleased but she just told me to hurry up and get ready.

*

I inched out of my dry disposable and lay it on my bed whilst I went and retrieved a pair of briefs from the draw. I slipped into them and then searched for the shorts and polo shirt I wanted to wear. Soon I was ready to join the others for breakfast but the disposable, wrapped in the plastic cover looked different somehow. I picked them up and they were still surprisingly warm, whilst the plastic felt really soft and supple and I wondered why I’d slept better in them than I had the terry nappy. However, I could smell breakfast so that question would have to be answered some other time, I was famished.

I was last to join the family at the table and mum had cooked her usual big Saturday morning fry-up. I loved bacon and eggs (and all the other stuff) it was my favourite meal that she made and I tucked in with sheer delight. I thought we might get through it without anyone commenting on my night time mishap but David said to Steph that she was lucky to have a room of her own after I’d stunk the place out last night. Steph had known nothing about my accident and so wanted to know more. Dad gave David one of his, ‘don’t you dare’ looks but he ignored it and told her all about it. He even added in fun that it brought back memories of when I was a baby wearing a stinky nappy, and as an aside to Steph he whispered that he thought those days were over.

I blushed from head to foot and wriggled uncomfortably in my chair. This time dad did say something and David immediately stopped his brotherly ribbing.

“That’s not fair David,” Dad said with severity, “Your brother is going through a difficult patch and he needs our support not our…”

“I’m not stupid like Kevin,” I interrupted and blurted out in both anger and defence.

Thinking of my dream and the humiliating chants from the boys I couldn’t hold in my rage.

“I’m not a big baby. I’m not stupid… I’m… I’m… I’m not KEVIN.” I screamed the last bit out and sulked in my chair.

The table went silent and everyone looked aghast at what I’d just said.

**tbc**

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

I occasionally like to put a curve ball into my writing and I'm always pleased when it gets such a terrific reaction

Thanks again 

[It's My Job 1-5 (end)]

I wasn't sure if it was a subject people would get on board with so I thank you for your comment  

[My Story 1-4 (end)]

My Story

I was bawling my eyes out.

Dad had just given me the worst spanking of my life for lying to him. It was my own fault because I had been seen breaking something but was still insisting it wasn’t me. Dad said he’d put up with many things from his children but he wouldn’t allow any of us to be a barefaced liar.

Dad had asked me outright if I’d done it and I said “No”.

 I was just about to go to bed so was only wearing my thin cotton shorty pyjamas when I saw that look come into his eyes. If I’d admitted it straight away I’m sure I would still have gotten a spanking but perhaps not quite as hard or for so long. My dad isn’t a big man but, as a ten year-old and not in the least bit sporty, I wasn’t equipped physically or emotionally to be hurt. This was the first time ever I’d been in any real trouble because normally my cuteness and sorrowful expression had in the past got me out of being disciplined.

It didn’t work this time and I hated it. My bottom throbbed and, although I was already on my way to bed, it seemed worse that I had to go clutching my red stinging bum. I cried all the way to my room, which I shared with my older brother David (I’m the youngest of three kids) thinking the world was grossly unfair, dad was cruel and I would definitely be running away to a nicer family come the morning.

*

My sister, Stephanie, is the eldest and five years older than me, who despite dad telling her not to, still came and tried to soothe my tears and make me feel better. It was a pretty hopeless task. Both her and my brother had witnessed my shame and blistered bottom so I was in no mood to be placated. However, she rubbed my back (I dare not lay on my back because it was so painful on my bottom) and settled my teddy bear in my arms, and even though I hadn’t had much to do with it for a couple of years, I hugged him with some force. She kept telling me Daddy loved me and that I shouldn’t think any less of him for what he’d just done. Unfortunately, I wasn’t seeing that side of the argument and only felt the agony of my bum, and possibly guilt, which set me off crying even more. I can’t explain how I was now absolutely terrified of my father. It had been the one and only time in my life I’d been disciplined and that made him, in my immature mind, a complete monster.

According to Steph, my sobbing eventually subsided and I fell asleep on my front clutching tightly to teddy. She said that once I’d calmed down I looked adorable snuggling up to him and wearing my little short pale green jammies. Later, both mum and dad came up to check on me and kiss me goodnight. I was dead to the world so I missed that bit of compassion and I didn’t hear David come to bed some time later. Normally we lie awake and chat for a while before dropping off. He’s four years older than me so he has quite a lot going on in his life and I like to hear about his footballing exploits and what he and his mates get up to.

*

The following morning David was the first to rise. He came over and shook me awake to get ready for school.  As I came round I was surprised that I was still clutching teddy, I was conscious of a slight soreness to my bottom but there was something else - I was drenched. My jammies, my sheets; everything was soaked and I didn’t know what or how it had happened. I think at the same moment, as he slid out of his own PJs he smelled the slight odour of pee. Once I realised my situation I started to cry. I was scared that I’d get another spanking, also I was embarrassed at doing something I hadn’t done since I was a toddler and thought I’d be ridiculed by everyone.

David called mum, who was already up and working in the kitchen, that I’d had an accident, which on hearing Steph came in to see what the problem was. She saw the state I was in and again tried to tell me not to worry, but I was worried. I’d been punished once for something I’d done that was wrong and now this! Steph led me to the bathroom and, while David was in the shower, she helped me out of my wet clothes. My brother popped his head around the side of the cubicle to see what was going on, he wasn’t gloating or anything, just seeing what was happening, but quickly finished so that I could be attended to. I was still sobbing when mum came in to check what exactly my ‘accident’ had been.

“It looks like he’s had a bit of trouble,” Steph said somewhat understating things as I stood there naked and trying not to look so scared. “The beds soaked and…”

Mum came over and gave me a huge cuddle. “Don’t worry darling, these things happen.”

Dad had already gone to work so at least I didn’t have to face his opinion of his soaked youngest but I was anxious about him finding out.

“You won’t tell dad will you?” I nervously appealed to mum.

I was now shivering and mum shooed the others out of the bathroom and gave me a warm shower where I was soaped and shampooed, something that she hadn’t done for many years; probably because I was grown up and didn’t need anyone bathing or washing me. However, mum’s gentle care had calmed me down and, as she led me back to the bedroom, she told me again not to worry. I think she could still see the redness of my recently spanked rear and knew that I was more than a little apprehensive about getting the same again. She helped me into my school uniform of grey shirt and shorts and after breakfast gave me a huge kiss and cuddle to send me on my way.

*

Apparently, the bed was wetter than she’d imagined. The mattress was soaked and, even with a breeze and sunny weather she found it difficult to dry outside.

Our neighbours, the Woods, had three children: their eldest was eight year-old Kevin who had learning difficulties and his two younger sisters, five year-old Susan and Bethany who was four. Kevin and I had played together since he was born and his two younger sisters looked after him like he was a precious jewel. Come to think of it, all the Woods were very attentive to Kevin’s needs, as I suppose were the rest of the neighbourhood. Despite his problems Kevin was welcome everywhere…  we were a tight estate who watched out for one and other.

Mum was explaining to Mrs Woods about drying the mattress in the sun and my accident, our neighbour was most sympathetic. However, she’d had a similar wetting problem with Kevin so offered to let mum have a plastic sheet if she thought that might help. She now used a rubber one over Kevin’s mattress, so she had a spare if needed. As it was, the mattress wasn’t completely dry by the time I had to go to bed so she accepted the offer.

I was a bit surprised to hear the crinkling sound of the sheet as I climbed into bed and almost started a petulant strop until I saw dad standing in the doorway.

“It’s just until I can get the entire thing dry honey, so don’t worry, it’s only temporary.” Mum explained as she comforted my agitation.

Dad stepped over to me and I almost drew back in fear but he just ruffled my hair saying, “Don’t worry Champ, we’ll have this sorted by tomorrow,” then kissed me night-night.

It was strange being in a crinkly bed because every time I moved or turned over it was accompanied by such an annoying noise, which was a constant reminder of what I‘d done the night before. However, mum had got my thick flannel PJs for me to wear and that deadened some of the sound and I felt quite cosy. I even let teddy share the bed with me for the second night and I was confused that dad could spank me one day and then kiss me and call me his Champ the next. I was still thinking of this when I fell to sleep.

*

Again David was up first, rousing me from slumber and urging me to get ready for school. As I turned I heard the tell-tale crinkle and I was immediately reminded of why it was there. David said that all he could hear all night was me crinkling every time I turned; however, the noise hadn’t kept me awake. I pushed back my blanket and it was only then, as the cool air rushed in, that I realised I was once again soaked. David looked and shook his head and I lay there wondering what to do. At that moment mum came in with a freshly ironed shirt for David and caught the look I was exchanging with him.

“Er,” my brother started, “I think he’s had another little… er… accident…” his eyes raised in my direction.

Mum passed him his shirt and immediately came striding over to me and felt the front of my PJs -they were absolutely sodden. She helped me out of bed and checked to see if the plastic sheet had done its job.

“It’s a good job Kevin is such a good friend and loaned you his waterproof sheet,” mum said trying to make me smile, “otherwise we’d never get this mattress dry.”

I was desperately holding back tears. I couldn’t understand how I could have wet the bed twice in two days but mum seemed very understanding and after being sorted out in the bathroom left me to get myself ready for school. I decided on my green ‘HULK’ underpants as I thought they’d make me feel more grown up (like the hero himself) then, because I was running late, quickly slipped on my school uniform. I went to a different school to David and Steph but mum always made sure we looked smart before she’d let us go and get our bus. So, with a kiss and a hug she patted my healing bottom and sent me on my way.

*

Things got worse. After the fourth successive night of waking up soaked both my parents thought I needed a bit more assistance in coping with the problem. Thanks to Mrs Woods, who was able to offer some supplies to help, the situation was soon resolved.  So, on the fifth night mum took me upstairs to bed and I found something extra laid out for me to wear. She told me that her and dad had decided that wearing a nappy would save all the extra washing, keep the smell to a minimum (David had made a comment) and should keep me snug and well protected.

This was all too much and I screamed that I didn’t want to be babied, I wasn’t a baby, I shouldn’t be treated as a baby but as calming as mum’s words were I refused to let her put it on… that was until dad arrived. I suddenly realised that I was acting up and defying my parents and that would lead to trouble so I stopped having a tantrum but continued to sob.

“I know you don’t want to wear these,” he said as he held out the nappy, “and we’d prefer it if you didn’t have to.”

He sounded so reasonable. “But you are making quite a mess and it’s not fair on your mother who has to do all the cleaning up… now is it?”

Needless to say I was sobbing and although I knew he was right and I was just being selfish I didn’t want to wear it.

“You're not being punished, loads of kids your age have trouble getting to the toilet at night but…” and this is where he lifted my sulky chin and made me look at him, “you need some help until you are over it. I’m sure by the weekend you’ll be fine and we can all go back to the way things were.”

He was so nice, spoke quietly and seemed very positive. He made me feel I wasn’t being punished and it all seemed to make sense.  Besides that, I knew what could happen if I defied him so, I shrugged and nodded and let him get me dressed for bed.

*

It had been some years since I last wore a nappy but he seemed to be very efficient as he rubbed in some lotion, powdered my groin, folded the square of terry cloth, inserted a soak pad and pinned it into place with a couple of big baby pins. Lastly, he shuffled a pair of Kevin’s plastic pants up my legs to hold it in place. I felt totally humiliated. I hated the bulkiness, I hated the crinkly pants… and sheet, I hated dad for making me wear it… even if it did all make sense.

He fed my PJ top over my head and had a little game of pretending it wouldn’t fit, ‘Perhaps my head had recently swelled’, ‘Was it because I was getting brainier?’, he asked. I giggled as he pretended to struggle and when my head did eventually pop through the correct hole he was smiling as much as I was. Then he tried to pull up my PJ bottoms but there he did have a problem because the nappy was just too chunky for them to fit over.

“Oh well,” he said, “perhaps for tonight you could just sleep like this.” He looked down at my thick nappy. “It looks like it should keep you snug and dry all night.”

He patted the bulk and said that if I wasn’t careful I’d be starting a trend. “Everyone will want to wear something that soft and comfy”

He then said in a rather hoity-toity voice. “Eveningwear designed and modelled by the great haute-couture stylist himself… Monsieur Pantalons et Plastique.”

Dad could be funny when he wanted and, although I had no idea what he’d just said, we both sniggered at his silliness, which took the sting out of having to wear a nappy. Then he gave me a mock bow, kissed the top of my head and left me to drop off.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t very comfortable. I tried to sleep but I just couldn’t get used to having this huge thick thing between my legs. Because I was wriggling around so much, the plastic sheet and my plastic pants were making a noise, which also didn’t help. When David came to bed I told him of my predicament and that I wanted to just shrug them off and sleep naked. He wanted to see what I looked like so I shuffled down the blanket and nervously revealed my shame. He patted the padding and smiled saying that the thickness of my protection should keep any flood at bay. I was half expecting for him to mock me and call me a baby or something but, he just sort of gave a silent whistle and got himself ready for bed. However, as he slipped into his PJs, he warned me that mum and dad wouldn’t be too happy if I did take them off and then wet the bed again. I could see his point but I really wasn’t very comfortable.

Eventually, after our usual night time chat he dozed off but I was still wriggling around trying to get snug. His last words were ‘stop fidgeting’ so he could get some sleep. I lay there until certain he was snoozing then I carefully squirmed out of my tight and restricting nappy. Once that was off I felt a lot better and it wasn’t long before I joined David in the Land of Nod.

*tbc*

[It's My Job 1-5 (end)]

It’s my job 5

I was still living at home at the time and had been able to come up with a few excuses to tell my parents as to why I was away so much. The cover story was that I and a school friend (Steve) had been developing a computer game at his place which we hoped would eventually earn us a fortune. This meant, when we got an idea, the work-load increased and we had to spend all the time we had on its development, thus explaining my irregular hours and time away from home. I’m not sure if either mom or dad totally believed my story but they were just happy that I appeared happy.  

After the session with Doctor Jasmin and my sudden interest in babywear the items I needed for home use I had to hide in my bedroom. Normally, with anything else, I wouldn’t have been bothered what my parents thought but I was, well, embarrassed by this craving that was growing inside me. Every spare minute of time at home I would slip into my diapers and protection or climb into bed and pretend I was back with her. I’d suck my thumb, wet myself and soggily fall asleep only to be awoken by my mom. If she noticed the diaper she never said but, typical of her, she was always upbeat and encouraging, which was just like the doctor had been. I found I had a new respect for both my parents but especially mom who, although I was twenty, still checked that I was OK every morning. She asked if I needed anything; money or for her to get me something special when she went shopping, but I’d just smile, thank her  and say that I had everything covered.

Although I’d had a few ‘normal’ clients since the doctor Steve had kept my workload to the minimum. He realised that something had gone on during that week long session that he hadn’t quite understood or planned for. I hadn’t told him about my desire to wear protection but I guess he realised my attitude had changed. I was more compliant, I didn’t ask any questions, I was quieter (even when we had sex)taking it as given that I was there for his use…  and only responded when he called me his little baby or did something childish like tickle or rub my tummy.

It wasn’t long before ‘L’il Babee Markee’ was in demand again. There hadn’t been a huge break but, with the images that Steve had posted online, and the fact that I hadn’t worked for a while, people were getting worried that ‘their baby’ had gone missing. Steve didn’t like to lose business, especially one that was so profitable, and, if truth was told, I was missing it quite a bit as well.

To inspire a possible new set of customers he organised another photo session. His capacity to spot an opportunity was well advanced as he saw I was in my element playing with toys whilst crawling around in a new pair of ruffled and billowing plastic pants that he considered looked good on camera (in fact unbelievably babyish). The padding was so thick that all I could do was crawl and he was of the opinion that the sight of me sitting amongst a pile of toys, wearing just that, unaware of the camera, and just playing, would have clients flocking to the site… and me.

He wasn’t wrong.

I found myself in an ocean-side villa on the West coast. The man who booked me was, according to Steve, ‘something big in Hollywood’ and I was expected to perform in both my capacity as an ‘escort’ as well as an ABDL. Steve had explained that I should think of this as an audition (even though it wasn’t) and should submerge myself in the character… anything ‘prop-wise’ that was needed the client would supply. I was half dreading the experience whilst the other half of me was desperate to live some time as ‘L’il Babee Markee’.

His name was Daddy. That was all I was allowed to call him and once again I wasn’t allowed to use any grown up conversation or even utter words that anyone over the age of two might use. Daddy was a big man, he reminded me a bit of Daddy Melrose (who I’ve spoken about previously); large, demanding, controlling and a little bit scary. He had a room in the villa set up for a baby; crib, playpen, changing station, a closet full of toys and an even bigger closet full of diapers and toddler clothing. Even though Steve had said that I’d probably be expected to have sex this wasn’t the case. In fact, he seemed more than happy to keep changing my diaper. He loved all the wiping, powdering etc more than anyone else I’ve ever met. After each soggy diaper was cast away and a new one fitted he would go to the huge closet and find a new outfit that he’d proudly put me in. He seemed very keen that whatever I wore should emphasise the protection I had on underneath and of course that was often immense.

The fact that I was now back playing ‘L’il Babee Markee’ was actually a relief. I’d missed all the baby clothes and protection, I’d even missed not having any say or input into what I did. All that was now taken away and I was just the toy of Daddy and it was up to him what happened, where and how.

For the first couple of days it was like being on holiday – well – perhaps not quite but the attention he gave was equal to the way Doctor Bernfelt had looked after me. He gradually introduced thicker diapers, more colourful plastic pants and decided, to make access to changing easier, I should wear a little dress. I didn’t mind because the good doctor had also pursued this course of action so it didn’t embarrass me at all.

It wasn’t like a satiny-style party dress, it was just like a short, simple pale blue cotton skirt-like thing that hung loosely but offered great views of the ample padding underneath. I think this was the main reason he wanted for me to wear it, not that I had any input into this decision.

However, the reason he wanted me to look pretty, cute and vulnerable didn’t become clear until he had a party, where one of the gusts was, well I can’t name names but, one of the biggest grossing male movie star of the moment. He is adored for his good looks, witty scripts and recent engagement to a young, up-and-coming starlet – The Entertainment Channel  and the celebrity gossip mags just couldn’t get enough of him or them as a couple.

Banner headlines and the paparazzi follow them where ever they go; just showing up at some venue appears to be big news. They are the Golden Couple and everyone wants a piece of them.

What I wasn’t aware of was that Daddy’s little party was a well laid trap. I was the cute, available rent baby who did as he was told and didn’t complain. My instructions had been very clear – make the star happy but when it came to sex I was to do whatever was wanted but throughout to cry like a little baby. Daddy had said it was one of the star’s turn on fetishes and he’d love it. What I didn’t know was that the room was filled with video cameras and our three hour session was held on tape.

I’d been in Daddy’s company for a few days by this time so I hadn’t felt the need to arrange any emergency phone times with Steve. Even if we had, I’m not sure he’d have been able to get there in time, or even if he knew exactly my location and, if he did, would he defy Daddy. He was a very rich and extremely powerful man who had put many clients Steve’s way. I was on my own.

Daddy’s friend certainly took to me. He loved all the frills, plastic, diapers and baby stuff. To begin with he simply joined me in the playpen and we messed around. Playing with toys cars and animals, he was great at thinking up little scenes for us to act out in our babyish manner.

Later it got more intense. He seemed to get annoyed with being a baby and enjoying himself and he became the adult who needed to discipline his wayward child. He spanked and fucked me in several different ways. It wasn’t a pleasant experience and I was really hurting as he seemed to enjoy inserting various large dildos into me and then fastening the diaper tightly to hold it in place. Whilst I struggled with that he exchanged my paci for his dick and roughly screwed my face. All the cute friendliness of the first hour or so disappeared as he became increasingly intent on, one way or another, screwing ‘L’il Babee Markee’ until I could not walk or speak.

The session was painful and extreme, whilst at the back of my mind I kept asking myself how anyone could treat a baby so cruelly. However, I wasn’t allowed to speak, merely cry or squeal depending on what was going on. In the end I was mostly crying for real as the torture got more and more severe.  There were moments when I thought - ’I can’t stay in character for this’ but then I’d be gagged, tied up in something or wrapped in something else so I could move or object, whilst any attempted at fighting back became impossible.

It appeared Daddy’s company was in need of a major star for their next series of features and his ‘guest’ had been reluctant to sign on. However, with the threat of a three hour video being released showing his vicious and kinky fetish for shagging rent boys dressed as babies he didn’t have much option.

After the event Daddy was back to being his sweet understanding self. He soothed and nurtured me back from the painful things his new signing had done to me. He was very loving and understanding but I knew I couldn’t return to Steve in the state I was in and so did Daddy.

He had me sleeping most of the time and I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated the soft, fleecy softness of my diapers as much as I did then. Daddy fed me, rocked me, changed me and I have vague recollections of him cleaning me up and smiling as he fed my legs into another shiny pair of plastic pants before wriggling them up over my super-soft diaper. I was in a daze but well looked after.

However, after this experience I returned to my home town badly shaken by my trip into the seedy world of Hollywood. Steve may well have made his company financially solvent for many years but I just wanted to pack the entire thing in. In fact, what I really wanted was to slip into my protection and be taken care of like Doctor Bernfelt had.  I didn’t want sex, I didn’t want fans, I didn’t want to see a cock again… I just wanted to escape into a world I’d lived for a week and had loved.

I couldn’t put my feelings into words so, to begin with, Steve didn’t really know what I wanted or how I was feeling. I couldn’t tell him that I just wanted to be loved as a person loves a baby. I didn’t want to perform or become a vassal for some guy’s spunk. I wanted kisses, hugs and changed diapers when I wet but, I still had customers to service.

I began to get some very unenthusiastic reviews from my clients. Steve quizzed me what had gone on at the villa but I couldn’t say anything, Daddy had made sure that if anything got out (to anyone) my life would be over, and to underline his threat he added that went for anyone I told. The warning had come with words of praise for my performance, medical help for the injuries I’d sustained and a huge wad of cash.

Daddy had that threatening smile as he pushed a large pink paci between my lips as I left the villa.

“I expect ‘L’il Babee Markee’ to know when to put his paci in… and keep it there.”

I couldn’t tell Steve any of this I didn’t want him to be harmed. Although I was sure he could look after himself I couldn’t take that chance so remained gagged. I didn’t think even his occasional thuggish nature would have helped either of us at that moment.

However, those lacklustre reviews were impacting on his business so regrettably he let me go. Together we’d made a tidy sum, although I knew he made many more times the amount I had, I didn’t mind… after all it was his idea.

I went home to mother well and truly fucked. I was worn out and could hardly pull myself together enough to get up and dress myself. I stayed in my room wearing my diapers and plastic pants, telling mum that Steve and my project hadn’t worked out and I was completely worn out and needed sleep. 

Why the Hollywood job should have effected me so much I wasn't sure... but it had. I'm no puritan (in the wrong business for that) but having Daddy's threat hanging over me, and my family and friends, really got to me.

I was disillusioned with what I'd become and sought some kind of refuge... away from that world...  but in the only way I knew I could.

Mom left meals outside my bedroom door but I hardly bothered with them. However, after a few days she got worried so one morning, unannounced, came in to see how I was.

The bedroom smelled of piss and shit and my diaper was full. She shook me awake and it was only when I saw the concern on her face that all the emotion of the last few weeks and months bubbled to the surface and I cried and cried.

Mom held me and soothed my brow whilst patting my saggy and stinky diaper.

“Don’t worry sweetheart… mommy’s here to look after her precious baby.”

The End

#################

[It's My Job 1-5 (end)]

It’s my job 4

In the hope of keeping you interested I suppose I could tell you a litany of horror stories that my customers subjected me to, thankfully they were few and far between. Steve had a particularly keen sixth sense when it came to any possible trouble and, as I’ve mentioned before, not averse to using his thuggishness to intimidate or get what he wanted.

I have to say that this only applied to any punter who was abusing any of his ‘boys’. No, I wasn’t his only one. He had several other ‘escorts’ who he would supply to his rich and demanding clientele but he looked out for us all. Having said that, if one of us got a bad review or he heard back about an attitude problem, you were let go and never used again. He insisted on a degree of good looks, great attitude, pliability and willingness to try new things… he had around ten other ‘boys’ as well as me but as far as I knew, I was the only one doing ABDL.

Steve was a clever operator and I suppose it was his charm, and the promise of loads of cash, that got us ‘boys’ to work for him (or as in my case into his bed first). Being a former ‘model and masseur’ himself he knew a lot of people and his connections made it easy for him to build up a high-grade stable of working boys and well-heeled customers.  It wasn’t only men who paid for our services. Far from it, as one of Steve’s chosen operators you were expected to be able to perform your required duties for everyone and anyone. If you were gay (like me) and really found it difficult to service any female customers he only sent you to the work where sex was not the main task. Thus I ended up at Doctor Jasmin Bernfelt’s apartment early one winter’s evening.

Steve’s instructions were simple, the doctor had booked me for a week and during that time I was not to speak. I could gurgle, smile and make baby noises but under no circumstances were I to utter any ‘proper’ words. This he knew would be a trial but, as I’d be with her every minute of every day, it was imperative to her that I behave as a baby. At first I thought Steve must have been nuts to agree to such terms and even nuttier to think I could carry it off. How the hell can a grown man (well that’s what I liked to think I was) not speak for a week. More importantly, what if something happened, or she did something I didn’t like or, and this seemed more probable, I simply forgot… what then? Steve then showed me the fee that was promised but only on condition that I fulfilled every aspect of the contract.

“The entire week will be recorded on camera; every move you make… every sound you utter… every change of diaper…every wipe of your…” he left the obvious embarrassing parts of the contract unsaid but I knew what was expected.

“Do you think I can actually do this?” I looked doubtfully at Steve. “It’s a huge project and, what if I fail?”

Steve didn’t shy from his response, “We… I mean you… only get a tenth of the fee. She’s doing this as part of her research, although I suspect that there’s more to it than that. However, I have a video link that I can tap into as and when I want… so I’ll be keeping a watchful eye on you.”

He seemed to think this was enough to reassure me… it wasn’t and I had an uneasy feeling about my ability to be a baby for more than a couple of hours. Steve once again just waved the fee in front of my eyes and said that this was a challenge I couldn’t turn down. By the end of another heavy (and scream inducing) persuasive session in his bed I’d agreed to every part of the deal. I didn’t know at the time that he’d already approved the doctor’s demands.

The contract stated that I was to appear hairless (apart from the hair on my head, which Steve had taken care of when I became ‘L’il Babee Markee’) and be delivered to her apartment naked… she would provide everything else. I didn’t like the idea of being completely naked in public so Steve re-negotiated that I could wear a diaper but, and she was adamant “…absolutely nothing else”.

I felt stupid travelling to my client dressed only in a diaper. Steve had told me to use a pacifier if I thought I wanted to speak. This, he argued, would stop me from chatting and also act as a reminder of my role in all this. I was to be loving, courteous and more importantly, responsive to all and everything she wanted from me. I was her dependent little baby, and, Steve grinned at me: “The possible star of some research project that might have ‘global’ implications”. I think it was him who saw dollar signs rather than me but he was very upbeat about the entire endeavour.  

He took me to her door, set a blanket down on the step outside, sat me on it and had me clutching a large pink teddy bear. He rang the bell, winked, told me to be a ‘good baby’, as I nervously watched him walk away and disappear before the door was answered. I felt really stupid and, I have to say, vulnerable waiting, thankfully I had my bear to cuddle and surprisingly, that helped. After a few minutes Doctor Jasmin Bernfelt opened the door, looked down at her new arrival, held out her hand, which I tentatively reached for, and was soon guided, on my hands and knees, into her apartment.

Dressed only in my thick diaper (Steve had been very thorough), clutching my pink bear and sucking on a paci I entered the place that was to be my ‘work space’ for the next seven days. I had to rid myself of any normal thoughts and try and find an area in my subconscious and consciousness where I could be a baby for the doctor. In truth, my 20 years of life (my birthday had only recently passed) had given me no real grounding in how to handle people. I prided myself that I was a nice guy, easy going and not quick to judge but that opinion was mine alone, I had nothing to base it on. Why she’d particularly sought out Steve’s organisation to provide her with a subject I was never to know but he liked the idea that perhaps she’d heard of me from a previous client or perhaps had seen my profile on one of the various sites he now used to promote his business. After all ‘L’il Babee Markee’ was now our business. Thank god for the paci as it gave me time to take in my surroundings and the woman I’d be spending a great deal of time with.

The doctor was in her late forties and appeared very experienced at what she did. This, she’d told Steve, was a research project that she intended presenting as part of a further, far-reaching piece of work on the ‘Psychiatry on the regressive mind’. The place was set out like a nursery, everything in pale pastel shades, mainly pink but with soft blues and greens. It had a very relaxing ambiance with areas set aside for play, sleep, feeding and changing. The place had cameras everywhere and I’d been warned by Steve that they would be on 24/7 but to try and ignore them as they may inhibit me from playing my part. In fact he’d told me to ignore everything except the doctor, she was to be my sole focus and keeping her happy was paramount.

 “Now Markee,” the show was starting, “Let’s get my cute little baby out of his wet diaper and into something more comfortable.”

I wasn’t wet but realised that the diaper I was wearing was not something she’d supplied so was to be rid of it. She led me over to the changing area and, with hardly any effort on her part, lifted me up onto the counter top where she lay me down. I really was just a little baby in her hands. The plastic mat was soft and rather pleasant under my skin and I enthusiastically sucked on my paci as she started to pull apart the tapes. My enthusiasm was to cover that first moment of awkwardness because being naked in front of any woman was, for me at least, disconcerting. I noticed the camera in the ceiling above me pointing down onto the changing mat and inwardly stopped myself from showing a grimace.

As she wiped, checked and prepared the area I was desperately trying not to let my cock react to her gentle, motherly touch. I had wondered if this might be a problem. For some of my previous clients, this had been a bonus but for others it had been the last thing they’d wanted to see. The doctor was one of the latter and had come up with a solution. Once she’d ensured that I was clean and thoroughly hairless ‘down there’ she produced a bag of ice and pressed it against my genitals. That deep suck on my paci hid the yelp of surprise that travelled up my groin and into my brain. Any rampant hormones that might have led to me getting a stiffy were quickly frozen as, once she thought it had shrunk to as small as it was going to get, she fastened a little metal cage around it all and locked it into place.

“There my little sweetheart,” she beamed, “All safe and secure.” She slipped the key into her pocket, “We won’t have to worry about that now will we? No we won’t… no we won’t. My little baby is well protected from that causing any trouble or getting in the way.”

She made noises that I suspect she'd used on babies in the past but I could only think that I'd just lost a part of me and wasn’t happy about it, although I knew I had to respond in some way. Whether to cry at losing this most important aspect of me, or giggle and smile and pretend it didn’t matter? I wasn’t sure what might be for the best but opted for the ‘it doesn’t matter’ giggle. After all, I figured, a baby wouldn’t realise what had just happened.

Now I’ve had this ‘chastity’ type of device fitted in the past but only for a couple of hours or so and could cope with that. However, I had no idea how long the doctor intended to keep me so secure and that was a worry that hung in my mind. Throughout the entire procedure she had spoken in encouraging baby-talk; saying what a good baby I was and what a sweet temperament I had. Once the cage had been attached and my penis was no longer an issue she powdered the area and grabbed a thick pink disposable, which she fitted in place. This was followed by a pair of heavy pink rubber pants, which were all held in place by a pink onesie that snapped into place under my crotch. She removed my paci and substituted another, much larger pink one, which she called a ‘dum-dum’ and tasted different to the one I’d been happily sucking on. Once again she effortlessly lifted and placed me on the floor so that I could crawl over to the play area where a bunch of toys were piled up ready for me to enjoy. Despite the fullness of the diaper I was aware of the cage, which I assumed was there as a cruel and constant reminder of my status - that of a weak and dependant baby.

At my age keeping my libido under any kind of wraps was going to be difficult because it had been my blossoming sexuality that had partly driven me into this business in the first place. Now, because I was unable to get hard, that’s all my dick seemed to want to do and the frustration, even in those first few hours, proved to be difficult. I knew I had to get my thoughts into a different zone or I would drive myself mad. I thought of those early dates with Daddy Hadley and how we’d learned to play together. How I had to learn a different approach that involved an unspoken but active way of communicating.  Though at least with Daddy Hadley I could murmur some babyish words but these had been denied me on this assignment.

I had an idea… perhaps that’s how this experience should be confronted… pretend I was being interrogated by the enemy and my entire platoon’s survival was dependent on me not breaking or saying anything. However, when she picked me up, pulled open the front of her dress and made me suckle, that tactic went clean out of the window.

At first I was horrified but she was so sweet and encouraging, rocking me in her arms, murmuring sweet babyish nothings and stroking my diapered bottom, that eventually I got the hang of it. I was expecting a rush of milk but alas none was forthcoming and my sucking was more for effect than achievement. Later it was replaced by a baby’s bottle of formula, which I’d tasted many times before and could just about stand in small amounts. However, one bottle followed another and by the time she’d finished I’d had four of the damn things. She burped me and, thanks to the amount of liquid consumed and perhaps unsurprisingly the wind brought up some excess milk that erupted down her back. Not a huge amount but enough that I felt really ashamed but she took in her stride. She wiped it up, wiped my face, told me what a clever little baby I was and lay me down in a crib. I wasn’t sure if this was now night time and I was to sleep or if she’d just put me there for her to have a break. However, I closed my eyes and, sucking wildly on my dum-dum, found it easy to drift off.

There were no clocks in the room and the windows were all covered so I didn’t know the time and I couldn’t gauge whether it was night or day but she woke me up by rubbing my tummy. I wished I’d done some kind of research into what babies do as I had no idea how to react, although I found her circular movements very pleasing and oddly enough quite relaxing. All the time her hand made those soft, clockwise actions she spoke to me as if I was indeed her little baby. I yawned and my dum-dum fell out so she quickly replaced it with her little finger and I found myself sucking on that. She picked me up and carried me to an armchair where, still holding firmly, she settled herself down. On a small table at the side were a couple more bottles and I dreaded being given even more formula. However, I made it difficult for her to put the teat in my mouth as I stretched and wriggled as if I wanted to go and play. She held on tightly and kept saying in babyish language that I could go and play once I’d finished my milk. OK, I understood milk was a damn sight better than formula so I eventually let her slip the rubber teat between my lips.

That first suck was tempered by the fact that she had slid her finger up between the onesie and the rubber pants to check if I was wet. I knew I wasn’t because I’d been holding it in like mad since she’d woken me up. She didn’t seem to mind as she continued to pet me while I sucked down the two bottles of warm milk she had provided… but by the end I really did need to pee. I didn’t want to go whilst sitting on her lap so held off until she had placed me by the toys and I could do it without feeling guilty. My caged cock had been trying to expand for some time and I was painfully aware of the discomfort I would feel if I stored up my bladder and didn’t just let it flow ‘as and when’.  I was focused on playing with some dolls and stuffed animals when I eventually gave up and just let go. The warm damp patch flooded between my legs and, as the flow continued I could feel my diaper expanding to cope with it all.

I was sure the doctor knew what I’d done but left me to play in my wet diaper until she was ready to change me, which as it turned out was just as well because only a few minutes later my bowels added to the mess. Everything appeared well contained in my protection but it felt really uncomfortable. I continued playing hoping that she would notice my bulging diaper but she let me carry on crawling around and sitting in my uncomfortable mess. It took nearly an hour before she changed me and I thought she was being unnecessarily cruel to her ‘little poppet’. It was only when my miserable looks turned to actual crying that she came and sorted out my soggy diaper.

I have to say that, despite being worried about the fact of being able to carry this role off, she was holding her end up admirably. Not once did she treat me as anything but a baby and I found myself responding to both our characters. When she changed or clothed me she was all smiles, laughter and playfulness and I was really unaware of just what it was I was being dressed in unless she was making a point of some lovely little bunny, animal or cartoon character that was on it. She seemed to like pink so most of the stuff I wore was that color and ranged from footed onesies, short onesies, plastic and rubber pants, diapers, coveralls and… dresses.  It was all very cute and I suppose by wearing a little dress it made access easier when I needed a change and it was another thing that I was surprised just how quickly I got used to it.

Although I had to be on my guard against ruining the situation by forgetting my role, I have to say that we had a fantastic time playing together. She was fun and inventive and certainly taught me what it means to be a baby… and a mommy. She was always there. I suspect that she slept when I did but if I was awake, so was she. I’d be put down for a nap in my crib and I was always astounded, once I had the dum-dum in my mouth how easy it was to snooze. I stopped worrying about wetting and messing and just did it. I stopped thinking about my caged cock and took no notice when she changed my diaper. I got excited when she slipped a new, silky cover over my diaper and I’d sit amongst my toys (yes MY toys) playing and loving the attention.

*

Because I was not aware of time, I had no idea how long I’d been there every meal and diaper change just melded into my day. Even when I didn’t think the doctor was looking (sometimes she was busy typing stuff into her laptop) I’d be more than happy crawling around, hiding in boxes, building bricks up as high as I could and giggling insanely when they fell down. Mommy (although I didn’t call her that it was what she called herself when she spoke to me) was always there being supportive, encouraging and… loving. I giggled a lot because we had fun. It was something I might not have expected at the beginning but I had so easily lost my reservations and fell into being someone's baby. Being looked after 24/7 was wonderful and the doctor was very good at it. I was enjoying every aspect; the closeness, the intimacy, the sheer joy we appeared to give each other... I loved being that dependable on someone else who so obviously loved me.

One afternoon, after I’d been fed, had my nap and was wet through, she picked me up, checked my diaper and said our time was up. I wasn’t really thinking at the time and I didn’t appreciate exactly what it was she was saying. As she changed my diaper for the last time and I was able to talk, what did I do? I burst into tears and cried my eyes out. I didn’t want to stop this, this… project. I was happy with my position. For the first time in a week she unlocked my cage… I stayed small and innocent. I had arrived with no other clothes except a diaper so I couldn’t wear anything else. She powdered thoroughly, like she had done on so many occasions and slipped me into a huge fluffy disposable, then pulled the silky cover over it all. She asked me what I’d like to wear and, still through tear-filled eyes, trembled because I was used to someone else making those kinds of decisions. She picked up a onesie, it was pink with a teddy bear on the front, and she also seemed to be having more difficulty deciding. She held up a footed onesie and the little pink satin dress I’d worn. I think she was really keen on that but in the end decided on a pale blue short coverall with a duck on the bib.  We were both quite weepy as she fastened the press-studs under my crotch and, despite the fact that my assignment was all over, I was still dressed like a little kid and I didn't mind in the least. When she handed me my pink bear I hugged it close and wondered if I'd see her ever again.

A bell rang, which I hadn’t heard since I’d arrived, and she guided me the door. I hugged her tightly and saw, like me, she had tears in her eyes. It was strange but I really didn’t want to leave. I know it had been a strange experience but it had also been incredibly memorable and in some way I just didn’t want it to end. The door opened and there was Steve, he looked a little surprised to see how fiercely I clutched onto the doctor but eventually cajoled me into going with him. I was still crawling so he picked me up and I felt that the first thing he did was check and pat my padded bottom. He seemed to appreciate what I’d been through and didn’t make any kind of comment about the way I was dressed.

He took me back to his place and I miserably crawled around his room for a while. I saw him check his computer and said that the full fee had been paid and that he was very proud of me. It meant absolutely nothing that I was now several thousand better off I just sat in my diaper in the middle of the floor lost without my ‘mommy’ or my toys.

Over the next couple of days Steve gently managed to coax me back but, for a little while at least, he let ‘L’il Babee Markee’ have a break. He thought it was best if I got back into my ‘normal’ clientele and within days I was out servicing the rich and powerful of our city. However, every opportunity I got when I was alone I'd find my diaper and plastic pants and try and relive that short time I spent as a baby.

****tbc****

[It's My Job 1-5 (end)]

It’s My Job 3

I saw Mr Hadley on a further five occasions. He’d changed to a much more relaxed person who just wanted to be with someone. Despite being so much younger I realised that he was a man who had a load of love to give but didn’t really know how to channel it. For some reason it had developed into this ‘baby fetish’, possibly some need to feel responsible and loved, but, as Steve constantly told me, “Don’t put people into a boxes – everyone is different and everyone has their own special wants and desires”. 

Over the few visits I had to Mr Hadley (I called him Daddy from my second visit) he changed into something more than just an observer; he played and got involved in my babyish games. He still wanted a baby boy to look after but he was no longer detached from what was going on and seemed to really like what I did for him. Indeed, Steve said that he was constantly being called by Mr Hadley who never stopped singing my praise. When we met, I was happy to go along with everything he required. He acquired some really nice baby clothing, that he appeared to have had made especially, and took great delight in dressing me up in it all.

He was never happier than when I was wearing a thick diaper, which he would take every opportunity to pat and fondle, and I learned to mess, cry, giggle, hug and cuddle when necessary. It wasn’t difficult because I went out of my way to try and please him. He was a gentle soul, generous and had few things he appeared to have faith in however, his little baby boy, even for only a few hours, was the one thing he had no doubt about. A baby like me was the welcome surprise he needed; someone who accepted him for him, weird or not he wasn’t being judged. He was, for those few hours, my daddy who I knew loved me and I loved him.

I’ve just read all that back and it seems that I am either bigging myself up or making excuses for Mr Hadley. I’m sorry if that is the case because that’s not what I wanted to do but you do get to know your clients and, if they are regulars, you do get a rapport going. Some men don’t want anything more than ‘wham-bam thank you man’ and as soon as they’ve cum, you’ve gone. I can understand that but when you do get something special, it’s just that, special. Mr Hadley was special but it all came to an end when I arrived at Steve’s place and there was a huge box addressed to ‘Baby’. Steve seemed to know immediately who it was from but he left it for me to open. It had all the baby clothes, toys and stuff that we’d used during our time together. There was a letter of thanks and a banker’s check for $1000. It appeared our time together had come to an end but I didn’t know why. Steve didn’t know, or if he did, he wasn’t saying and I felt really sad that our time together had finished.

Ever the businessman Steve looked at the clothes that he had sent and said that there were plenty more men who would appreciate seeing me in some of those things. I was still feeling a little down so didn’t appreciate what he was saying until he had pulled out a couple of diapers and told me to strip. Minutes later I was wrapped in the diapers, rubber pants and onesie and Steve was taking more photos for the ‘portfolio’.

“You’ll have them all wetting themselves when they see these,” he gleefully promised.

He said that my sad, babyish look would only add to my fee once they started asking for ‘L’il Babee Markee’. I had a new name and a new image and I was very surprised at just how quickly the offers came in and just how popular having an AB to play with was.

Once again Steve showed just what a hot entrepreneur he was as the images of me dressed in those special outfits went viral.  Over the next few days he was inundated with offers. ‘L’il Babee Markee’ was very marketable and photo sets exchanged hands as well as ‘opportunities’ for me to be someone’s ideal baby… at ridiculous rates.

I was very nervous about this turn of events and although I’d been happy with what I was able to do with Mr Hadley, I worried that there would be some really weird people ‘out there’ who weren’t as nice. I was concerned about my safety and other client’s expectations but, after another wild afternoon session with a very virile and demanding Steve, I saw where my future lay and that was with me accepting ‘toddler’ status. Later, with my body still buzzing after his attention Steve did two things: He brought it down to simple finance and said how much I would earn per session and made it clear that I was a brand name so my desirability would go through the roof. He also suggested that Mr Hadley would be proud to know that his little baby was wanted by so many… a sort of ‘Daddy Legacy’. Steve was very persuasive.

I still had my occasional other clients but Steve wanted me to concentrate on this more lucrative venture. I wasn’t overly happy about being a baby all the time and actually longed for the ‘straight’ sex sessions instead of my having to dress up. However, ‘L’il Babee Markee’ did attract a growing number of ‘admirers’ and pretty soon I was discovered by one client as a ‘foundling’ in a wooded glade.  I was wearing just a thin, soft cotton diaper, sucking (and crying) on a paci and wrapped in a fleecy blanket. I thought this was just too much but later, when I saw the amount Steve had charged for this little piece of theater, I saw why he was so keen we went down this route.

My most recent client was ‘Daddy Melrose’, he wanted me permanently and tried to hypnotise me to become his acquiescent little boy. I saw my job as being submissive and compliant to what was expected of me so he had no real need to force me into doing things, I was happy to do them, but I think he felt he needed more control. It started off OK but the items of special clothing he got me to wear became more bizarre and restricting. There aren’t many chances for running away when you have a butt plug inserted, your cock is trapped in a small restrictive cage, you are in several pairs of ultra-thick disposables, a tight-fitting rubber onesie and have leather reins buckled around your chest which your ‘daddy’ is keeping very tight hold of indeed.

A thick, ball-gag style paci was strapped into my mouth and all I could do was basically crawl wherever he wanted me to go or just sit at his feet in this cramp-inducing outfit. Of course he’d plied me with drink beforehand so I was both desperate to piss, which I did continually and take a dump, which I couldn’t do because of the plug. He kept putting on these videos of men being regressed back to their childhoods and obviously thought I’d be easy to influence.  I did feel my will slipping on occasions, he probably drugged the drink to make it easier, and I’m sure that without Steve’s early intervention, I might well now be some rubber baby – property of Daddy Melrose.

When I hadn’t checked in with Steve, at a time we’d arranged, the alarm bells had gone off. Even though Mr Melrose had been an occasional user of Steve agency, being rich and powerful and all, he wasn’t as well-known to Steve as perhaps he should have been (thus the need for a call).  He tracked me down, kicked in a few doors and confronted the manipulative daddy who seemed surprised at being disturbed in this way. Once he realised Steve’s anger was real he was all apologetic and desperate to fend off the beating he was taking from my irate manager. Steve took photos, made him transfer some extra fee (for my inconvenience and his time) before issuing a dire warning to the scared and pathetic looking would-be Daddy.

However, Steve didn’t release me from my rubber outfit he just bungled me into his car and didn’t let me loose until we arrived back at his place. I was still a bit woozy but he admitted later that night how he’d found the entire sex scene “Such a fucking turn on”. He even joked about how much more of a baby I looked when I’d been drugged and a little spaced out. More photos and no doubt he had another stream of finance coming in. As he slowly unravelled me from my ‘costume’ he apologised and said he would never let me get into harm’s way again… although he guessed I’d have a completely different lifestyle if Daddy Melrose had succeeded. First came out the gag but again I was too out of it to make much sense. He unbuckled the reins, unzipped me from the tight rubber onesie and eased me from it. Never one to miss an opportunity he took more photographs at each part of the process and once down to the huge amount of soaked padding he carried me into his bathroom for the final removal.

It all seemed to be packed tightly into a huge pair of rubber pants but Steve battled on regardless. With some difficulty he eased them down and un-taped the multilayers of diapers (yes, stopping for more photos) and was happily surprised to find my cock straining against a small, locked cage. He left that for a moment and began to wipe me down. I moaned and he suddenly realised that there must be something else and noticed the black object inserted ‘where the sun don’t shine’. He began to pull on it but my moaning got worse and I think he got the idea that perhaps that wasn’t a good idea. I was sat naked in his bath at this time with my cock in a cage and a dildo or something large shoved up my butt and I desperately needed to take a dump. He manoeuvred me onto all fours, grabbed the black object and told me to push at the same time.

It came out on the second tug and we were both immediately covered in an almighty deluge of shit… I suppose Daddy Melrose had the last laugh.

***tbc***

[It's My Job 1-5 (end)]

It’s my job 2

Telling you about my clients is perhaps a bit naughty, although I have changed their names as a sort of safeguard. However, it seems only fair if I’m going to discuss others I should tell you a bit about myself.

I’m 19, 5’5” tall, short blond hair and have a tight little body and I got into this business quite by accident a few months ago.

At the time, I had just left school with reasonable grades but like so many others had no job. However, I was determined to keep up the fitness regime that I’d started as a student and as I couldn’t afford a gym membership, got my exercise from pounding the streets. As I was standing on a dark street one night getting my breath back after a particular frantic piece of jogging a car pulled up alongside me. To cut a long story short, I was propositioned and, as the guy was young and good-looking, I agreed. However, that night I did things, exciting things, painful things, weirdly wonderful things I’d never done before but the handful of bills that I walked away with meant I could at least pay my way for a few more days.

The guy who had introduced me to this incredible sex life ran an escort service and, after our session, had asked if I’d like to make more money. I immediately said “No thanks” wondering why anyone would want to be an ‘escort’, wasn’t that demeaning, disgusting and dangerous? However, he’d given me his card and a couple of days later I was calling him back and setting up a meeting. Following another afternoon session, and nonstop compliments from him and about how much money I could make, I was intrigued enough to say “OK, let’s give it a trial.”

So, that was the start. Steve, the guy who was now I suppose my pimp, although he preferred the term ‘manager’, introduced me slowly to his clientele, some high-end customers who appreciated my ‘tight little body and butt’ and before I knew it I was making quite a substantial amount. I was still living at home at the time, and found excuses to explain to my parents the strange hours I was now keeping, but they saw I was happy and never questioned what exactly I got up to.

Steve told me that he only dealt with classy men, men with money and taste and who he would trust not to swindle or abuse me. However, he added with a glint in his eye, people like different things. He opened his rather large closet and showed me what was on display.  Lots of leather, rubber, plastic and a cupboard full of whips, dildos, chains and stuff like that. That afternoon he dressed me up in different outfits; young kid, choirboy, schoolboy athlete, tenement toughie… er… even a baby (I baulked at wearing a diaper and stuff but Steve said there was big money in it if I just played along), and several other different ‘looks’. I wasn’t all that bothered about dressing up, I thought that all a customer would want is to get me naked and for him to cum in or over me. Steve told me it took all sorts and a bit of gift wrapping often helped. I found that comment to be very true.

My fourth customer was Mr Hadley. Apparently, he’d seen my photo on the company portfolio (Steve had taken loads of them on our last session and liked them so much he immediately put them online) and liked the ones of me dressed as a baby. My small stature was of course a huge bonus and as I tentatively went off to meet him I had no idea what would be expected from me.  The only instruction I had received from Steve was that my ‘client’ would prefer it if I didn’t speak except in baby-talk or baby noises and gurgles.

I arrived at the door of a very nice apartment and knocked. It was answered by a man, aged about fifty or sixty who stood at the door and literally towered over me. He smiled, obviously I was just what he ordered, and I shyly said “Hewoo Mister,” and looked down and shuffled my feet as if I was nervous, which I was.

“Ohh, you’re a sweet little thing aren’t you,” I don’t think he wanted an answer. “We’d better get you inside and all warmed up.”

That was the start of a two hour session where Mr Hadley gave me a warm bath, washed then dried me with a huge towel with a baby duck on it and took great pleasure in sprinkling baby powder all over my body. Once that was all rubbed in to his satisfaction, he placed a pacifier in my mouth and proceeded to get me ready.

I sucked on my paci as he fluffed out a disposable diaper, inserted a couple of thick pads and pushed it under my bum. He took his time, and what seemed a great deal of pleasure, from spreading my legs wide so he could pull this monstrosity up between them. Once it appeared to his satisfaction he pulled the tapes tightly and stood back to admire the view.

“Mmmm. I think we might need a bit more,” he said to himself and repeated the procedure with a second disposable.  My legs were spread wider and I dreaded that this bit of the process might not yet be finished. He appeared to like the results and picked me up and placed me on the floor.

“Go and play with your toys while daddy does some work.”

And I was placed in a corner of the room with a blue plastic mat and a box of different toys. I pulled out a stuffed tiger and hugged it close. I knew he would be watching me so I wanted to be the best damned baby he’d ever had. As I played with it I gurgled eagerly and bounced it up and down. Strangely enough, I found that bouncing like that whilst wearing such a thick diaper was really rather pleasant so I checked what other toys were available. I kept my well–padded butt facing him as I understood this was what he liked to appreciate most and I was pleased to see him ‘rearranging’ himself as I crawled about.

I tipped out the box and searched through the toys and found rockets and spacemen and dolls and puzzles. I thought I’d give the puzzles a miss; a six-piece jigsaw wasn’t really all that challenging. However, I left it out with one piece missing as I had an idea. For ten minutes I found my imagination taking over and, even with a paci in my mouth, I played like I hadn’t done for many years. It was fun and I could see Mr Hadley smile as I did certain things, especially if I was getting excited about something. As I moved about on the plastic mat I really had no option but to waddle and crawl so, when he called me over, that’s what I did.

“My, what a sweet baby you are.” He cooed and smiled as he patted my huge padded butt. “Let’s get some din-dins for my ickle boyzy.”

He’d made a baby bottle full of warm milk so he hitched me up onto his lap and made sure I was snug in the crook of his arm before proceeding to feed me. I hadn’t negotiated a nipple for some time (well not to extract milk) and it took a couple of attempts to get the rhythm right. However, his persistence, and my eagerness to please, meant that he had me sucking away happily fairly quickly.

Whilst I drank he kept telling me to fill my nappy. I wasn’t that keen on doing so but with a bit of perseverance I managed to force out a few spurts of pee and at the same time accidently broke wind, which seemed to signal a call to action for him. I was laid out, slowly unwrapped from my padding and checked.

“Who’s a good boy? Yes you are.” He looked at the slightly damp diaper and seemed to conclude that it wasn’t wet enough as he reapplied everything but not before rubbing some lotion into the required area. I fought valiantly not to be aroused by this manipulation as I thought it wouldn’t be how a baby reacts. However, once everything had been spread around, front and back, to his satisfaction and I’d been taped tightly back into the thick diapers, he found a pair of plastic pants to pull over it all. These were huge and colourful with blue cartoon figures all over them and he obviously thought I looked great in them as he bounced me up and down on his knee. I was worried I might fall off so I grabbed hold of him around his neck and snuggled my face against his shoulder.

He wasn’t expecting that and he rocked me in that position for a short while before he said it was time to get me dressed properly. He placed me down on the plastic mat and went to a draw and pulled out a neatly folded onesie. It was pale blue, made of a shiny material and I could see his eyes light up at the prospect that soon I’d be wearing it.

He told me to raise my hands, which I did, and he slowly unravelled the item of clothing, almost reverently, down my body. It was short sleeved and felt cool on my bare arms. It felt cool against my shoulders and chest as he continued to unfold it down my body and it felt slippery against my thighs as he pulled it up between my legs and popped the fasteners into place.  It certainly was tight-fitting but equally emphasised the bulkiness of my protection as he got me to crawl around on the floor and resume my game. He took a couple of photos and, judging from the number of times he reached into his pants to rearrange himself, liked what he saw.

However, the diaper had become a bit of an irritation for me and I was hoping that our session would soon be over. I goo-gooed, and ga-gaed and pretended I could not work out how to fit the last piece (of a six piece) jigsaw together and began to sob. He liked that. He came down and sat next to me on the mat and helped me fit it into the correct space. Once I’d got him there I kept passing him toys and stuff so that he had to play with me and join in rather than just watch. Pretty soon he was making silly car noises or whooshes as rockets set off just as I did. I shuffled around in my silky onesie and he just kept stroking me as and whenever he could. I quite liked the attention but the irritation in my diaper was getting worse and I couldn’t wait for our session to finish and I could be on my way. The problem was, he was now having fun playing with the toys and I couldn’t see a way out of it.

He put in a call to Steve and requested a further hour, which I later learnt that he’d agreed to but at a slightly inflated fee, so I was going to be there for some time yet.

The milk I’d drunk had an effect and it suddenly dawned on me that it might not just have been milk. My bowels gurgled and despite my best intentions I could hold the growing storm no longer. Once it started I was sure there was going to be no end to it. My diaper filled fast as I sat on then plastic mat unable to control anything. The frantic look on my face gave him a clear indication as to what was happening and he quickly found a paci and slipped it into my mouth. My stomach hurt and I hated Mr Hadley at that moment but remembered what Steve had said about being professional and to give the customer what they’d paid for… I started to cry. At that moment I wasn’t sure how much of the sobbing was real or acted, all I knew was that there was a mess in my pants and I wasn’t happy.

Mr Hadley hugged me and said soothing words as my tears cascaded down my cheeks, which with a paci in my mouth must have made for a really good picture (he took another photograph) before he set about changing me. He slowly released me from the onesie, pulled off my plastic pants, which appeared to have helped contain the mess, though the smell was quite strong. However, as he peeled back the tabs and slowly examined the damage, the stink didn’t seem to worry him at all. In fact, he seemed overjoyed that I’d made this huge mess and slowly started to clean me up.

As I lay out on the plastic mat he gave me a stuffed animal to hold whilst he got on with the major job of cleaning up baby. As I lay naked (except for my paci and stuffed toy) he went and retrieved a bowl of warm water, towels, wet wipes and a host of lotions and powders. For the next half hour or so he slowly and methodically cleaned, wiped and powdered every bit of my body. At one point I did notice that my fine pubic hair had disappeared and where it had once been, there was now a red blush (I supposed that’s what the cream he’d applied earlier had been for). I was a little bit angry that he’d done this without asking but it was hard to get too angry whilst you are holding a furry animal, have a paci in your mouth and magic fingers are creating incredible sensations to your body.

He finished off by pulling a disposable up between my legs and making sure it fit snugly, then, like just about everyone does, he patted my bottom. His gentleness, and obvious delight in seeing me that way, made me shiver. He hugged me tightly and rubbed my padded bottom in appreciation, thanked me and said he hoped he’d see me again soon and pointed me towards the bedroom where I’d changed when I first arrived.

I got dressed but I didn’t take off the diaper. Instead I walked back into the room holding my pants and let him watch me pull them over the protection he’d put me in. I wanted him to know that I would be wearing something from him for the foreseeable future. His eyes lit up as I zipped up. I handed him back his paci, gently kissed his cheek and said ‘bye-bye’. Walking away felt strange because of the thickness between my legs which was both a reminder of what we’d just done and a comfort… I wasn’t sure why.

**tbc**

[It's My Job 1-5 (end)]

It’s my job    Part 1

The sticky substance rolled down my back and over the ultra-tight, thin white plastic pants I was wearing. The gloopy mass had slowly slid from my head and, with the aid of gravity, eventually collected in a pool by my feet; it was that gradual descent that turned Bob on so much.

He would watch fascinated as the yellow goo trickled and pooled, then, like a wave of lava, carry on its way to the final destination. My arse is one of my best features so that the thin, almost transparent, slippery material emphasised my hard-as-nails globes to their best effect. When the flow of the shiny, semi-liquid concoction completely covered my arse, I had to admit that the effect of my reflected image in the main mirror, which completely covered an entire wall, was quite stunning.

Once he’d enjoyed the glossy sheen and appreciated that initial visual experience (there was also a lot of touching and stroking involved), armed with yet another bowl of custard, Bob would empty that over my head and watch yet another cavalcade of the sticky dessert drip onto my chest and slowly gather around the front of my bulging plastic shield. The wave of custard would separate around that projecting mound and rivulets of the sticky splurge would split up and trickle down each leg. He’d pour more custard so that the glossy bulge was covered and then position himself to let the occasional drip of the stuff fall into his waiting mouth; his tongue flicking wildly about in eager expectation. All the while, he’d be massaging custard into his erect cock barely hidden behind his own yellow, gloop-stained, diaper.

Bob is one of my regulars. Once a month, for the past 9 months, he’d book me to indulge in his sticky fetish and, I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed these sessions. Some clients just want me naked and to get the deed over and done with as soon as possible. Some were guilty about what they were doing; some ashamed of hiring a rent boy to fulfil their needs, while others were on a deadline and just wanted a quick, no-nonsense shag. That is what I do and I am happy to do it while I can. I don’t moralise about what people want or ask me to do. In the main, they are the customer and what they want, and pay for, is what they get.

Bob is quite well off. I believe he made loads of money when he was quite young and now, in his early 40s, lives off the proceeds. His penthouse apartment has an ultra-modern kitchen, two bedrooms and a huge living room that opens up onto a balcony, which overlooks the city. He has also converted his third bedroom into a ‘playroom’ and that’s where we get messy once a month.

Kid’s TV would be proud of the amount of slimy sticky stuff he’s poured over the both of us in the times we’ve done this together. I am well paid for being the target of his slippery needs and it is great fun. He likes me to appear at his door dressed in suit and tie (and I’ve recently added a briefcase to complete the respectable young businessman look). He greets me dressed the same, it’s as if we are about to go into a high-powered business meeting, but that image only lasts a few moments as it is the removal of clothes, which are always neatly folded outside the play area, and the transformation into ‘sloshboys’(that is, guys who love messy fun), that gets him going.  He supplies what he wants me to wear; sometimes I’m naked, other times I’ve had gumboots, a plastic apron, rubber shorts, a divers wet suit, although he mainly likes me in a tight-fitting diaper and plastic pants.  Whatever he has a sudden thought about, he gets me to try and I love not knowing what it’s going to be next. He’ll also have all the substances he wants to use stacked around the room; I supply the body, a smile and no attitude.

We laugh a lot as plates of food, tubs of mud, buckets of foam, paint, oil, porridge and his favourite… custard - you name it and it is probably in his repertoire of stuff that we launch over one and other. Sometimes he’ll walk up to me, pull at my shorts or underpants or diaper and drip a gallon of some sticky treacle or greasy gloop all over my arse, cock and balls. The stuff gets everywhere but at the end, and especially if the goo covering my arse is still slick and liquidy, he likes to rub himself off against my slippery butt cheeks.

His cock has inevitably been hard from the moment I arrive, so when he does cum his copious orgasm is a flood, which is then rubbed into whatever it is he’s covered me in. He seems to derive as much fun from our sloshy antics as he does from cumming and he’s deliriously happy from start to finish. Afterwards we often sit facing each other, dressed in just our messy diapers, or sometimes pretty plastic pants and throw dollops of stuff to get us both even more plastered with it all. We giggle like big kids and perhaps strangely, we hug a lot and it has become something of a release for me, a release I didn’t know I needed, and always makes me feel better about… well, life.

He always pays me more than we’ve agreed so, after we both take an innocent shower (the messy and sexy business is kept strictly for the fun room), I leave his place dressed in my suit and with no tell-tale signs of what we’ve just done and always a lot better off than when I arrived. He never asks me to clean up, he never demands anything other than messy fun, and the memory of this monthly event actually keeps me happy until the next time he calls. In fact, that one session with Bob could mean that I don’t have to work for the rest of the week… but I do… you can’t let your clients down can you?

*tbc*

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Thanks for your comments I'm glad you enjoyed the story. I hope it wasn't too traumatic for anyone?

I deliberately left the ending open so that each reader could fill in their own epilogue should they desire. 

 

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Part 9

 

 

A call home to his mother in Poland had only confirmed what he already suspected, Amadei was still in diapers. His mother told him that his brother seemed happy enough but since his ‘breakdown’ had never really got his potty training back. She added brightly that although at times it seemed a burden, she at least had a son who loved her, even if he only had the mental age of a small child.

 

As he spoke to her, for the first time Bronislav felt a shiver of guilt run down his spine. This was something he’d done and even without his influence, his younger brother was unable to grow up or even learn to use the toilet. No doubt the diaper manufacturers were grateful to him for the increase in sales and, as he looked at the piles and piles of disposables and other stuff mounting high in the nursery, he wondered for how much longer he could… or should continue.

 

*

 

Of course Charlie was as pleasurable as ever. There was no denying the fact that the adorable baby teenager was an absolute darling to have around. He enjoyed everything, had the sweetest nature, loved his Dada and looked brilliant in whatever he was dressed in. Kevvy was a different matter. He was aggressive, tightly wound, demanding, destructive, a total nightmare to feed and dress. Unless he was fastened into something he couldn’t undo, he would often strip off and run around naked, frequently peeing and shitting where he played. Spanking only worked for a short time so lockable plastic pants were the only solution to keep him in clothes and the nursery from becoming one giant toilet.

 

Lockable rubber pants were just one of the items he was now kept in; a lockable romper suit, lockable onesies and lockable coverall were all added to his wardrobe. Once he was in he was fine but he fought his Daddy at almost every turn, which became very tiresome. His teenage bottom often glowed from the chastisement his Daddy had to mete out to get him to settle down or comply to his wishes. The only time he looked as cute as he had in those first couple of weeks was when he was asleep and cuddling his brother in their big new crib. His huge babyfying plastic pants rustling noisily as he ground ineffectually up against Charlie’s equally thick and slippery protection.

 

*

 

Despite Kevin being something of a nightmare there were times when he was still a little kid desperate for his Daddy’s love and protection. On a recent visit to a secluded beach both toddlers had loved being at the seaside and were excited to run around in the fresh sunny air in their tight shiny colourful plastic pants, which covered a thinner than normal disposable. They built sandcastles and splashed at the water’s edge. After they’d enjoyed a mushy but fun picnic, sucked juice from their bottles and generally behaved like the three year-olds they were, they eventually lay in the sun on their favourite blankies.

 

Later, as Charlie built a huge building out of sand with arches and roads for his toy cars, Kevvy ran off to explore some rock pools further along the beach. He hadn’t waited for his Daddy to go with him and, as such, clambered over the rocks without supervision. As he’d been warned might happen if he ran off, he slipped on some seaweed and grazed his legs as he fell over the hard and jagged boulders. Despite being a toughie he cried because he was hurt and bleeding. Daddy, alarmed by the sudden cry from his boy, found him sobbing pathetically and clutching his slightly blood-streaked leg.

 

“Doggie scared me,” his weeping toddler cried and gulped for air as another huge bawl of emotional distress escaped his body.

 

A look around didn’t immediately identify the snarling, biting culprit but a small Jack Russell suddenly appeared from behind a rock, yelping playfully and wagging its tail with a bit of seaweed stuck in its mouth.

 

It looked funny but the expression of fear on Kevvy’s face and the screech of absolute terror that he somehow emitted was no joking matter. He curled himself into a ball and shook not able to look the dog in the eye and appeared desperate for his Daddy to take action.

 

Far off a woman’s voice called “Here Benny” and the small dog’s ears pricked up and on the second call, appeared to get its bearings and ran off to its mistress. At the same time Bronislav realised he had a moment so, at the same time the dog turned and scampered off, he shouted after it.

 

“Don’t you scare my little boy like that again you naughty hound. Kevvy’s a good boy and you must never scare him again.”

 

He hugged the boy, who sulked and blubbered in his Daddy’s embrace

 

“There, there, you’re safe now. Daddy’s taken care of that naughty dog.”

 

*

 

He shooed the retreating animal before bending down and picking up the terrified toddler, carrying him back to their private picnic area and setting him down on the blanket. Charlie had no idea what had just happened but as always was empathetic to his brother’s distress and tried to soothe him with kind baby-talk.

 

Kevvy’s crying got to quite a hysterical pitch as Daddy cleaned up his scraped leg, applied ointment and a bandage. The little fellow whimpered and continued to shake from his intimidating encounter. He looked completely beaten. Bronislav had never seen him so needy and was surprised that a small dog had sent him into such an alarming state. It looked like for the first time since he’d been regressed that Kevvy required Daddy’s protection and was thankful for it. His strong Daddy had banished the frightening animal and carried him to safety; he was very, very grateful.

 

Kevvy’s disposable was soaked and Daddy was sure it was from peeing as well as the pool of sea water he’d fallen in, so, on a blanket on the beach, in the summer air, he wiped, powdered and slipped him into a fresh but thicker disposable. The huge sobs had been replaced by small whiney gulps of self-pity. His eyes were glassy and puffy with so many tears and he was now so dependent on Daddy he was like putty in his hands.

 

*

 

The scare had activated something in Kevvy’s mind that made him completely docile. There was no fight left in the boy just total acquiescence. So, seizing the opportunity Daddy pulled out another pair of plastic pants only this time they were pink and frilly and eased them up his little boy’s still trembling hairless legs.

 

Normally Kevvy would create and squirm in protest but this time he just hugged tightly onto his Daddy’s neck allowing him to pull them over his diaper.  The poor boy was so subdued and traumatized by his accident; he made no attempt to stop what was happening. Soon his Daddy had also put him in a lovely matching pink smock and sunhat, before settling him down to rest on his pink and blue bunny rabbit blankie.

 

He looked so innocent and sweet so, smoothing out the huge pink bulge at the front, whilst patting his baby boy’s frilly padded bottom, his Daddy whispered soothing and loving encouragement for him go to sleep. His boy relaxed and yawned then rolled onto his side, his well-padded pink frilly plastic pants glistened in the sun. To complete the overall look, and help mollify his troubled brain, a pink paci was slipped between his lips making him the very picture of the sweet little baby his Daddy always wished him to be.

 

As his brother dozed, Charlie whooped and laughed as he continued rushing to the water’s edge, scooping up some of the sea in his Winnie the Pooh bucket and rushing back to his wonderful sand construction. His Winnie the Pooh plastic pants shimmering in the sun and making him appear the happiest of all toddlers.

 

*

The incident of the dog had a major effect on Kevvy’s attitude. He no longer strayed far from either Daddy or his brother and, when in the crib together, it was Charlie who now snuggled to protect his scared and nervy little baby brother. There were also no arguments or disruption whilst being fed, what he was dressed in or where to play, what Daddy said or did was almost immediately done.

 

If for any reason Kevvy started to act up, though it was a rare occurrence now, the sound of a dog barking fed through the nursery speakers would have an immediate effect. He’d come rushing to find Daddy and hide behind him until he was sure he’d shoo the deadly animal away or comfort him in his arms. Kevvy got more and more compliant but not in the joyous way Charlie was, he was far more terrified by the world around him.

 

Daddy took complete advantage of his shy little baby boy and dressed him to reflect his new status. Diapers so thick he could only crawl around, babyish thick rubber covers or plastic pants that emphasised the mass of protection he was wearing. Rattles and the simplest of toys were given to him to play with, whilst his attachment to a certain stuffed giraffe, Charlie’s giraffe, seemed to become obsessive, he ventured nowhere without it, often with its ear firmly shoved in his mouth.

 

His wardrobe had changed for a younger, more babyish look, so he was rarely out of his smocks. A whole host of more cute and childish designs were quickly installed into his daily apparel. The frilly coloured pants were regularly matched with an equally feminine frilly or lacy smock. Kevvy now looked, and was made to act, more like a one year-old, which surprisingly he slipped into with ease. Crawling around the nursery, his bulbous diaper wiggling as he moved was a joy for his Daddy to behold, especially as he appeared to be in no rush to get up and walk.

 

Meanwhile, Charlie was dressed as a happy-go-lucky three, going on four, year-old wearing coveralls, shorts and onesies appropriate to his age. He looked after his baby brother who had grown over the months they’d been together to be slightly taller than him but, seeing as he was only allowed to crawl, it didn’t appear that much of a problem.

 

*

 

Another thing that Bronislav wanted to try was to see if he could get Charlie, who was now the more dominant one (if indeed Charlie could ever be described as such) to call his baby brother, his sister. His Daddy started calling Kevvy she and because he was now always dressed in more feminine clothes (even though he didn’t particularly look like a girl), he wondered if, through repetition and word enforcement, he could get Charlie to change the way he thought about him/her.

 

To begin with the toddler was a bit confused by what his Daddy said but within days he’d begun to call him his sister, she and a little girl. Even though nothing had changed except the clothes, he readily adopted the idea that Kevvy was now his baby sister and as such needed special treatment because Daddy said little girls need loads of hugs and love. Charlie had never skimped in this department so would spend hours playing dolls with his new baby sister and treating her to special imaginary teas, surrounding her with her favourite stuffed animals, setting up house, kissing and cuddling her if she looked pouty or had wet herself. Charlie seemed to like having baby sister to look after.

 

*

 

Life at ‘Evergreen’ became easier and less fraught for all concerned. Daddy was enjoying his time with his ‘toys’ and the pleasure both little sweethearts delivered on a daily basis. He’d even found an out of town club, Iuvenili, where he could take them to mix with other ‘children’. Once there they were allowed to play with loads of other boys and girls of all ‘ages’, the one thing they all had in common was their loving Mommies or Daddies who doted on each one so kept them safe and snug in their diapers.

 

Charlie loved playing with all these new friends and was an immediate hit with everyone. Kevvy was scared and much preferred to sit in her playpen with her dollies, animals, rattles and other baby toys sucking on her pacifier. All the member of the club referred to Kevvy as female and thought how cute she looked in her thick diaper, which hung down thickly from under her pretty lacy smock. So huge was her silky protection that even standing was a problem and her only means of movement was from a slow waddling crawl when Daddy called or Charlie enticed her into some game or other.

 

*

 

Bronislav had no idea why the dramatic change should have occurred in Kevvy. He went through each stage of the regression process trying to pinpoint where and why it had happened. When he introduced the sound of a dog barking to the sound system in the nursery, it was only Kevvy that reacted, Charlie didn’t even seem to notice it. Only on one occasion had he heard the barking and smiled at his Dada and said “Doggeee!” Yet that same sound would have a panic-stricken Kevvy weeping, hiding, shaking and often messing himself - it just didn’t make sense.

 

However, as things had never been better Bronislav was keen to take full advantage of the situation and paraded his two regressed toys proudly in front of the new club members at Iuvenili. Most of those there were either DLs or ABs but only a couple had been regressed forcefully and totally. This small, and it has to be said, very rich band of ‘parents’ had an air of superiority about them but even so, knew that their ‘babies’ needed the company of others.

 

*

 

Although Kevvy was reluctant to join in, she had no shortage of grown up admirers who loved how babyish and docile she was. There would always be a small crowd when her Daddy changed her and there would be a discussion between them on what clothes and even what diaper colour she should wear. Some even volunteered to clean up and change her themselves because of how sweet it appeared to have an eighteen year old boy in such a regressed state. They were always picking her up, bouncing her on their knee and even when she cried there would always be a bottle or paci offered by someone. Like her Daddy, everyone loved to see her crawling around with her huge padded and frilly, shiny bottom waddling with each cautious attempt at forward propulsion. Kevvy was completely unaware of her effect on the others and some of the other AB and DLs were getting a bit fractious because of all the attention being shown towards her.

 

Tantrums and tears, wettings and more were the order of the day as each child tried to get their mommy’s or daddy’s devotion focused back on them. At one point Iuvenili sounded like a nursery full of wailing out-of-control kids but there was no denying it was Kevvy who was the star of the little group.

 

Everyone wanted to know how Bronislav had achieved such a spectacular result, indeed, two such spectacular examples, as Charlie was also adored for his wonderful pleasing ability to be joyful in any situation. Bronislav didn’t reveal his secrets despite the fact that others wanted their kids to be regressed to such a stage as Kevvy. He was even asked if he wanted to let Kevvy go to another home, where a mommy, who was incredibly rich but desperately lonely wanted a baby of her own. Kevvy, she said, would make her life complete because she was such a ‘cutie-pie’.

 

*

 

Bronislav gave this some serious thought. He wasn’t sure if he could trust anyone else to look after them properly but he had let others go without so much as a second thought. Baby Kevvy was giving him pleasure but it had taken some time getting there. The problem was, because he had no idea why s/he should have regressed so far so quickly, the chances were that his/her temper, his/her destructive side and his/her hyper activity might just return… unannounced.

 

The lady who wanted to adopt him was happy to pay for the privilege. She was well aware of Kevvy being a regressed teenage boy but loved the idea of bringing him up as a sweet baby girl. She had plans for all the clothes she would have made for her growing child, although he’d never mentally be more than a baby, she wanted to look after him and her desperate pleading eventually won Bronislav over.

 

*

 

He’d painted Charlie on the nursery wall and had changed Kevin’s image to be more like he was now - Kevvy as a little baby girl crawling around in her super-thick shiny panties. He slowly introduced Kevvy to his new Mommy and despite the tears and tantrums that only a small child could produce was eventually strapped into her limo and driven off to a new life. There was a promise made that both would still see each other at the Iuvenili club, but the truth was, the woman never returned.

 

Charlie was a little perplexed at losing his little sister and kept asking his Dada where she was but a few extra toys and Dada’s undivided attention, plus more time out of the nursery and living in a villa by the sea seemed to fix that. The change of location also had another unforeseen development. As time went on there were some signs that the happy, loving toddler was acquiring a new awareness.

 

There were times when Charlie would look at his Dada who noticed that the smile wasn’t there. He’d be staring intently for a few seconds as if trying to weigh up a situation, something Bronislav knew he wasn’t able to do, but then suddenly return to his joyous, playful self as if nothing had occurred. In the nursery this wasn’t as obvious because of all the electronic gizmos and sound-systems that had been introduced to keep Charlie in his happy and docile state. However, at the seaside villa there were no such appliances, because Bronislav was confident that he really no longer needed them all the time.

 

It was a walk along the cliffs that proved fatal. The wind was blowing fresh clean air into their lungs as they giggled and ran little races between various points. Charlie was too scared to go near the edge and backed away but his Dada, enjoying the bracing power of the fresh breeze stretched out his arms as if embracing the elements. As he did so the smiling face of Charlie gave way to one of deep concern.

 

*

 

Not unlike the dog with Kevin, something enormous happened as Charlie’s mind suddenly lit up with knowledge, a new awareness, a feeling of, of, something. For the first time he looked at himself and became conscious of the thick diaper, the childish shirt, the colourful shorts for a boy of three and again, his mind clicked. As his Dada was still enjoying deep lungful’s of fresh clean air, Charlie stepped up behind him and with one huge effort, pushed Bronislav with all his might.

 

His Dada never knew what hit him because his footing slipped and was instantly plummeting the eighty feet onto the jagged rocks below. His body splattered over several spiky boulders but the sea rushed in and wiped the red sludge away, as if cleaning up the mess. Charlie still didn’t dare look down because he was back to being a scared little toddler who was alone, the awareness disappearing as quickly as it came. He was alone and scared. All he could do was cry and hope that someone would find him soon but this was a desolate area and night was closing in.

 

Charlie had wet himself and curled up in a ball to try and keep warm. Much to his bewilderment his quiet yelps for his Dada remained unanswered. He hugged himself and whimpered miserably as the minutes of anxiety mounted to hours of abject fear.

 

After quite some time lying despondently on the cliff top he thought he heard in the distance a voice calling their dog but he couldn’t see anyone. A few minutes later he felt a wet tongue licking his sleepy face and another voice, this time of a woman, asking if he was alright. Charlie didn’t know what to do, he was very distressed, scared and wet and the only response he knew was to cry even more.  

 

“Dada fell,” Charlie gulped in air as he pointed to the cliff edge. “Dada gone.”

 

The full horror of what this confused and sad teen was reporting filled her full of compassion.

 

The lady, her husband and the dog all looked at this sweet but terrified teenager, dressed as a toddler, obviously padded, crying his eyes out... and made a decision.

 

****************

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Part 8

 

With the ease in which Kevin was regressed Bronislav thought he’d have no trouble orientating him into nursery life. He had spent a great deal of time working on the boy’s psyche whilst he was sedated with drugs but even so, expected him to put up more of a fight than he had. Still, he was grateful everything had passed off so well and he’d already started to tell both Charlie and Kevin (Baby Kevvy as he was now called) that each would have a new brother, a new playmate, very soon.

 

Bronislav watched as Baby Kevvy came to terms with his ultra-thick diaper and solid rubber pants. There was something instantly appealing as the packed shiny protection glistened below the smock as he waddled or crawled around getting used to his new position in life… a naive two year-old. He’d reset the relaxing music, reinforcement soundwaves and the subliminal messages throughout the house so that both boys would be bombarded with the same message. However, the nursery was better equipped for kids than the rest of ‘Evergreen’ so he thought he’d introduce his sweet little ‘toys’ to each other as soon as possible. 

~

Kevvy was a little powerhouse. He seemed unable to sit still and poked his nose (hands, fingers) into everything to see what it was or did. His voluminous diaper seemed no hindrance to his mission as he set off to explore this new world. At first Bronislav was pleased with his little dynamo but he needed constant supervision as the house was beginning to look like a playground. Despite the fact that the regressive programme also destroyed his teenage strength and made him feeble in comparison, the little tyke disrupted plants, drew on the walls, left a trail of mess and on one occasion emptied the fridge. Charlie had never done any of this, he was always so loving and compliant and, well, he was expecting the same from his new toy. So, to speed things up, Bronislav brought forward the meeting and slid the secret partition aside so that Kevvy caught sight of the nursery for the first time.

 

His eyes lit up in wonder at all the colourful characters and when he saw Charlie laid on his stomach, dressed in a pale blue onesie with a giraffe on its front and playing with a huge dinosaur, he headed straight over. The new toddler stormed straight in and grabbed the toy animal much to the surprise of Charlie who looked up stunned, his bottom lip quivered before he let out a cry. Their Dada quickly caught up with Kevvy and grabbed his hand and tried to explain that it wasn’t nice to take things off his older brother.

 

“’smine.” Was the only word Kevvy uttered.

 

“No,” Dada tried to reason with his two year-old, “Charlie was playing with it first so give it back.”

 

“’smine.” Kevvy held it close to his chest as Charlie continued to wail at the injustice of it all.

 

“No, it’s Charlie’s,” Dada pulled it from his grasp, “you don’t take things like that… there are plenty of other toys for you to…”

 

“’smine,” Kevvy grabbed it back from his Dada, wriggled free of his hand and scuttled to a corner of the room where there were many more toys.

 

With the introduction in tatters Dada comforted Charlie and soon got him happily playing with another toy. He tried to get the two boys to play together but they stayed at opposite ends of the room and involved themselves in their own imaginative games. Bronislav suddenly realised he was going to have to split his time between the two but hoped that eventually they would play together.

~ 

For the next couple of days his two Executive toys ran him ragged and Bronislav was worn out by the time he put them both to bed. Charlie was still left in the nursery crib but once Kevvy was dozing he was picked up and transferred back to his Dada’s bed. Not for any sex, no Bronislav was far too tired for anything like that, but so that they wouldn’t fight like they had done on the first occasion he put them in the crib together.

 

He hadn’t planned a second crib as he aimed that the boys would calm down, accept the situation and be happy together sharing everything; and that included the sleeping arrangements. However, it was a bit more cramped in the crib than he’d anticipated and, should either of them grow much more, it would be an unhealthy fit. He decided he needed one that would be adequate for two grown-ups and would last… so called the friend who had made the original crib with his instructions.

 

One thing did become clearer and that was, despite Kevvy been regressed to a two year-old, he was by far the more dominant.  Soft, sweet and loving three year-old Charlie was often left crying or sulking because Kevvy had come along and taken something he was enjoying. In the end, and after both had been naughty by throwing huge chunks of Lego at one and other, the tears and the general upheaval were only brought to an end when Dada punished both boys. He took down their protection, put them over his knee and gave them both a sound spanking. Afterwards, Charlie’s red little butt glowed as he stood in the corner sobbing his eyes out and not understanding why his Dada had been so cruel. Meanwhile, a feisty Kevvy only succumbed to tears after his spanking lasted longer and his Dada was insistent that he understood to obey him immediately.

 

Kevvy stood at the side of Charlie facing the wall each with equally fiercely red bottoms. Both were sobbing and not understanding why their Dada had spanked them but now realised that Dada would hurt them if they didn’t behave. Under the threat of another spanking if they didn’t do as they were told he insisted that they should hold hands while they had corner time. Reluctantly their hands wavered and although Kevvy was about two inches shorter than Charlie, it was him who took the lead. Charlie may have tried to withhold his hand but a stern “Charlie” from his Dada scared him into complying.

 ~

 

Two glowing red bottoms holding hands made their Dada wonder what else he could do to make them friendlier towards each other. He was disappointed that he’d had to resort to such discipline but now he had, and seen how effective such correction was, he kept that in his arsenal of threats if needed in future. Meanwhile, he wondered if he dressed them the same if that might help so, after he’d left them standing in the corner for half an hour and was sure the sobbing had stopped (although they still held hands) it was time to re-diaper and feed them.

 

Whilst both were able to feed themselves, there were certain actions reinforcing their toddler status that Bronislav just loved to watch. One of these was to give them both a warm baby bottle of formula, which they sucked on as he got them dressed. Like slipping the paci in their mouths it both silenced any noise, looked really childish, whilst they appeared to derive so much pleasure from sucking on the teat.

 

First it was Charlie who seemed over his punishment and was enjoying his bottle and Dada’s loving hands as they smoothed in creams, oils and powder before slipping him into a well-padded terry nappy, which he pinned into place with his favourite kitten pins. He then slipped a pair of glossy pink rubber panties up his hair-free legs, which held everything tightly in place. Once he’d finished he moved over to Kevvy who, though enjoying his sweet formula, had watched the entire proceedings with a suspicious eye.

 

It appeared that Kevvy was far less forgiving and was still smarting over his very sore bottom but Bronislav applied the same creams and powder as lovingly as he had to Charlie and tried extra hard in making his little fellow smile. A bout of tickling and baby talk, compliments and hugs soon had Kevvy giggling as he was put into a similar thick terry nappy (also held together with kitten pins) and shiny rubber pants just like his ‘brother’. He helped them both down from the changing station and let them play together. He gave them full warning that if they didn’t behave they would be punished again and put in the playpen for the rest of the day. They bowed their heads trying to hide away from their Dada’s threat as both boys wanted to avoid a further spanking.

 

~

 

The impenetrable rubber panties looked terrific on the boys and made a childish statement all of their own. Thankfully, because of the threat they began to play together whilst Dada went to the closet to find two matching outfits. His first thought was to put them both into smocks; it would be easier and less trouble later in the day when they would inevitably have messed themselves. However, he’d recently had a couple of denim short coveralls made which were intended just for Charlie but thought he’d see what they both looked like in them.

 

Even though they had buttons for easy access he decided to tell the boys that, as they were getting to be ‘big boys’, they could wear ‘big boy’ clothes. He helped Kevvy into his first, slipping his legs into the shorts, pulling on a pale blue t-shirt with animals all over it and then fastening the bib front into place with the metal clips. There was a cartoon hedgehog on the front panel and Kevvy seemed really pleased with it all. His Dada helped him into socks and sandals and, with a paci pinned to his bib, he was ready. Not really used to wearing such an outfit he flopped down onto the carpet but his padded seat prevented his sore bottom from further pain. He looked remarkably cute, however, not being sure of his balance he quickly crawled to where the toys were. His rubber protection could easily be seen up the loose legs of his short pants but soon busied himself in the game he and Charlie had been playing earlier before their argument – it was making a farm… with dinosaurs as well as cattle.

 

Charlie was called over and he toddled joyfully over to his Dada with a huge smile on his face as he hugged and shyly kissed him. His denim coverall was exactly the same except he had a cartoon squirrel on the front panel. He, like Kevvy, had a t-shirt covered in animals and also wore similar socks and sandals. As Dada pinned his paci to the front of his coverall he made wide goo-goo eyes and nervously giggled before slipping it between his lips.

 

Bronislav opened up the second secret wall and the boys were amazed to see the garden in full sunlight with new toys scattered around for them to play with. Surprisingly, to begin with they held each-others hand as uncertainly they ventured into this wide open space. There Dada thought this was a good thing as they were both getting encouragement from the other to be brave. Soon both were excitedly ‘running’ from one thing to another not quite sure which to play with first but unbelievably happy they were outside and there were so many extra things to do; a sandpit, swings, a rocking horse, a see-saw… there was even a huge pile of cardboard boxes left… it was all very exciting.

 

~

 

For the first time Bronislav could relax for a moment as his two charges squealed with delight and urged each other have a go on their piece of apparatus. It was just a couple of minutes before they scurried over to the next thing that held their interest, and then the next… but despite this they were playing together and getting on fine. Bronislav watched as the two waddled and shouted their appreciation for a piece of equipment, where one of them would instigate a game, later bringing out other toys to join in the fun. The garden was full of toys from the nursery as well as all the new items… it seemed the boys wanted all their ‘friends’ to share in the fun. The cardboard boxes were also well used as they suddenly became a hideout and a castle, which they both claimed as their own but this time, without resorting to a grumpy battle.

 

For hours their Dada watched and encouraged the boys to express themselves. He patted their well-padded bottoms when they came to ask him something, secretly checking that they were still dry, and giving each a quick hug before letting them get back to their business. The thick protection did nothing to inhibit the boys and to Bronislav they looked most appealing as they clambered guiltlessly around the garden.

 

The boys only slowed down when they had lunch in the garden but even then, they were quick to eat everything up (Dada had insisted) drink their juice from the sippy cup but were far too excited to nap. Bronislav was going to insist but, after checking their slightly damp diapers, decided that he’d let them wear themselves out and hopefully be ready for an early night when it was time.

 

He’d bought the boys matching nursery print plastic pants which they wore for bed, together with their nursery print onesies. They both looked adorable and it was plain to see, as they snuggled down, it was Kevin who dominated in the crib as well. He’d clasp Charlie in his arms and Charlie, never happier than when he was being cuddled, would gladly let him wrap his arms around him as they slept. Both looked cute sucking on their pacis whilst an assortment of stuffed animals surrounding them as they drifted off into some childish dreamland. There seemed no doubt that Kevin was now the older brother and Charlie appeared not to worry about that as a snuggled back into his brother’s embrace.

~

 Over the next few weeks Bronislav began to realise more and more just what he’d set up for himself. Whereas Charlie was quiet, loving and able to amuse himself in play, Kevin was full of adventure, mischief and energy. Being encased in an ultra-thick diaper didn’t hinder him in any of the things he did. Charlie was more than happy to huddle up to Dada and watch cartoons but for Kevin, he would do that for a few minutes before wriggling free and finding some other thing to occupy his time.

 

Bronislav had wanted two little toy boys to regress and make his own but now he had, he saw there were problems in the not too distant future, not least, the fact that Kevin was growing. Having two adult sized babies wasn’t the dream he’d expected and only now was he beginning to think of finding an alternative. He’d had the fun in regressing and controlling these two teenagers but now, the responsibility for looking after them for any length of time was daunting. Could he turn the regression off? He’d never tried and in truth, he’d never thought that far in advance. Could he even progress the boys back to how they were, restoring their minds, memories, feelings? He had no idea. One thing was for certain, although he was thoroughly enjoying watching his boys living in a toddler existence, he had to do something soon otherwise this whole project would blow up in his face.

~ 

All the books on hypnotism, psychology, drugs, soundwaves, and verbal enforcement were of no help now he wanted to try and reverse some of what he’d done. The idea that he’d be an old man and still have middle-aged toddlers running around, needing their diapers changed, didn’t appeal to him in the least.

 

He also realised that life in the nursery and garden was no life for the boys they needed to experience other things, have friends, be out in the countryside, visit the beach and he saw the difficulties in doing that. He might be able to get away with one toddler but he thought that two might rouse suspicion. Also, as Kevin was proving, even a youth-sized toddler was pretty tiring to control. No, he needed to find an alternative and he needed to find it soon.

 

****

tbc

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Part 7

 

‘Evergreen’ was a fantastic new house built from an original plan by Bronislav’s father and adapted by the man himself. The main change to the original design was a secret room with a hidden entrance, this became the nursery.

 

A sliding panel in the master bedroom gave access and there was another concealed exit that led to an ante-room, which in turn led out to the enclosed rear garden but the nursery itself was a work of art and could be shut off entirely to the outside world if necessary.

 

It was a large area, which even with a crib, sofa, TV, changing station, closets, draws and the paraphernalia of childhood, still had plenty of space to play. The high up windows that let in light were just for show. They, like everything else in the room, were controlled by an advanced electronic system that could change the entire environment. Day could become night at the push of a button, whilst the sound that was available, and accessible everywhere in the house could, with effects added, give the impression of a bird singing dawn chorus to a violent storm raging outside. It was this constant music, complemented by the inaudible streaming of suitable sound waves and subliminal words, that helped keep Charlie happy in his little toddler environment. The relaxing ambient music incorporated into the sophisticated lighting made it easy to fool him into time for sleep, time to wake up and even time to fill his diaper.  

~

Since he’d arrived at ‘Evergreen’ Charlie spent almost all his time in the nursery only occasionally been allowed out to play in the main house with Dada. Normally his cute brightly covered diapered bottom could be found crawling around the room, playing with his toys and action figures, creating all manner of wonderful buildings or lying on his stomach concentrating on colouring in a book. If he wasn’t sucking on a paci at these times his tongue would be lolling out the side of his mouth as the little fellow focused all his effort on what he was doing. He’d proudly show his Dada what he’d accomplished and giggle and wriggle in pleasure as the compliments were heaped on his clever achievements. Mentally there was no longer even a hint of his teenage past as he’d regressed completely to a reliant little three year-old who loved his Dada. He was one happy and contented little boy.

 

Whilst he slept the hidden commands would seep into his subconscious reinforcing his position as an unencumbered child. His Dada had told him that he wasn’t allowed to get out of his crib unaided so he’d lie and wait watching the hypnotic mobile, hugging his stuffed animal and sucking on his paci until the side bars were lowered and he’d be helped to get up. Usually his diaper was full and this led to his morning routine of clean up; sometimes he would be thoroughly wet-wiped, other times bathed in a fun bubble bath. The ritual of creams, powder and diapers having both participants chuckling with delight before the final decision was made if Charlie was to be just in protection all day, or in one of his cute outfits. His Dada really did love dressing his boy up and loved to see the bulky protection filling out his onesie, shorts or coverall.

~

 Occasionally Charlie would wake up dry but a little sticky. These dry nights were when, once he’d fallen asleep, his Dada would pick him up and carry him to his own room to sleep there. His Dada loved the feel of his well diapered little boy lying next to him. The thickness of the padding, the slipperiness of the plastic pants, everything about the situation sent an erotic charge through him. He’d rub himself up against the warm dozing body, thrilled by the intoxicating pleasure such an action produced. Charlie, oblivious to what was happening, would be enjoyed as might an inflatable doll. When his Dada had peaked and the hugging and kissing stopped, he’d be gently carried back to the crib as if nothing had happened. In the morning, when Charlie awoke, he’d be none the wiser and just took it for granted that his diaper was messy and that he’d made it so.

 

For all Bronislav’s confidence, brilliance and money, he didn’t actually like the idea that his little toys should know about his ‘other’ side. It was the one area that he hadn’t quite come to terms with and one that in some ways pained him greatly. So, although he loved having his little diapered toys around, he felt guilty, so rarely indulged in his ‘secret’ desire. He got so much pleasure from the rest of the enterprise; the actual regression, the control, the clothes, the diapers, the play, the sweetness of someone so loving and dependent on him, which was mainly all he needed. But above all, the thing that drove him to continue was his absolute obsession for diapers and plastic pants on a giggling (though sometimes not so giggling) emasculated youth. It was that power, the same power he’d discovered with his brother, to de-sex a horny teenager, reduce him to an infant and plaything that satisfied him the most.

~

Mr W spent less and less time at the office now he had responsibility for Charlie. He could operate well from his laptop at home and Miss Thorpe dealt with the main day to day running of his part of the company. He’d attend the office for any major meetings or call in for an hour or two but only if he had Charlie napping at the time. The take-over was the talk of the industry but in the negotiations the company was sold for a far higher price than had been expected… again Mr W’s smooth talking and clever manipulation of any situation was the reason. Nobody lost their job, well initially, and the directors found themselves very rich men indeed. The two other bosses joined the board of the new company, whilst Mr W decided to take a back seat and became only interested in his shareholdings. Despite requests and offers for him to join other firms as CEO or some other high position, he told his friends that his home and his family back in Poland were now his main concern and intended moving away from the business and concentrating on other projects.

~

 In all the change and disruption the fact Kevin had run off was of little concern to the company. After an initial enquiry by the boy’s carers they simply thought he’d reverted to type, and dismissed his departure as just trying to make life difficult for everybody else. Because he was eighteen, no one was really all that bothered about tracking him down and, as there were other, and some argued ‘more deserving’ kids who needed time and patience from the scant resources available, his departure was quickly forgotten.  He became just another runaway kid and was added to the list of all the other kids who’d gone missing over the years. 

~ 

Kevin hadn’t had to wait in the countryside for long. A white van drove up and offered him a lift, which at first he refused. It was only on a second and more thorough inspection he realised it was Mr W in disguise.

 

“Hi buddy,” Mr W spoke as he wound down the window, “wanna go for a ride?”

 

Kevin had been hoping (and expecting) that his escape to freedom would be in some high performance sports car, he was a little taken aback by Mr W’s choice of transport. 

 

However, once he realised who it was offering him the lift, he smiled and climbed in.

 

“Sorry about the subterfuge but we need to be careful to begin with,” he smiled as his young passenger sat next to him.

 

“S’OK, I was, er, expecting… you know, er… something…” Kevin shrugged with disappointment.

 

Mr W leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek, which Kevin responded to immediately. There was a touch of longing and relief as he returned the kiss but he lingered and his excitement grew. He pawed at the front of Mr W’s pants and suggested that they find somewhere a bit more private to enjoy each other. Kevin was one hot little lad who needed his sexual fix and it was only fair that, with him in such a state, he be allowed to satiate that lust.

~ 

In an empty car park overlooking a very picturesque spot the white van rocked with their pleasure, each desperate for more of the other. It was the first time in ages that Mr W had let himself go to such a degree and wondered if he was perhaps making a mistake in reducing Kevin to a child. However, once they finally came down from their sexual high, the proffered bottle of juice that Kevin gratefully drank was the start of his induction into toddlerhood.

~ 

As his boss, his ex-boss, drove home, thanks to the drugged drink, Kevin got sleepier and sleepier and before too long was out cold. Mr W hoped that he wasn’t going to regret what he was about to do and had until he got the boy back to ‘Evergreen’ to decide exactly what he wanted from him. There was no doubt about it, the young lad had a great deal about him; he was street wise, had talent, was unafraid, dealt with things with ease, was phenomenal when it came to sex and would make a wonderful partner but, Mr W already had plans. A moment for Kevin’s reprieve almost made it to the surface but instead the image of Bronislav’s younger brother reappeared and his fate was sealed.

 

For some time now Bronislav had been preoccupied by the words of his mother about un-potty trained toddlers wearing smocks so that their diapers were easier to get to when they needed a change. He’d had a brief flirtation with the look when he’s sent Brent to his new parents but it was now firmly at the forefront of his mind – he wanted a toy like that and Kevin would be that incontinent baby boy. He would wear a little smock and his diaper would always be on show especially when it hung heavily down when wet. Bronislav was consumed by that single image and thought the entire look would be cute, babyish and perhaps slightly embarrassing for Kevin but, as he’d have no choice, that’s how he’d be treated.

~

Back at ‘Evergreen’ Kevin was comatose and being given the same type of bath that Charlie had been given on his first day. His hair was cut short, like the new Army recruits in movies, and all his body hair (and for his size and age he was quite hairy) was also dissolved from his body as the depilatory cream took effect. Once he was completely smooth and his body was like that of a new born baby, he was swaddled in a thick, well-padded disposable and see thru plastic pants. Mr W couldn’t get over just how wonderful Kevin looked and thought he and Charlie together would make the most perfect pair. For the moment though, the two would be kept separate, he had a few things he needed to do with Kevin before he let him into the nursery.

 

Because of the ease in which Charlie had been regressed, Bronislav hoped that it would be equally stress-free for Kevin to quickly slip under his influence. However, he needed to make sure that any battle against what he was attempting should be minimal. More drugs were utilized while the music and reinforcement soundwaves were set to rapidly infiltrate his brain.

 

As it was getting late he carried him to his own bed and knowing he’d be out for the count for some time, took the opportunity to use his adorable, hair-free body again and again. Those thick, slippery plastic pants sending ripples of pleasure through the older man’s body as he rode that sexy slick bulge front and back.

 

~

 

“Good morning sweetheart,” Mr W greeted a rather groggy Kevin as he finally came round.

 

“Mmm, nnnwww, er…” Kevin tried to orientate himself as he wiped his eyes and found that he was in a very comfortable bed.

 

“You must have been very tired you’ve slept for quite some time but I’m glad to see you’re awake now.” Mr W beamed at his confused guest.

 

“Er, how did I get h… er… how did I get here?” The boy stammered.

 

Mr W was pleased that there was some confusion in the boy’s mind - it meant part of his work had already begun.

 

“Don’t you remember,” he smiled at the boy, “you said you wanted to come and live here?”

 

A look of uncertainty crossed Kevin’s brow as he realised he was naked.

 

“Er did we, erm, did we have…” he was mumbling, “ermmmm… where’s my clothes?”

 

Mr W smiled. “Well, first you fell asleep on me as I was driving you here…”

 

The older man looked tenderly at his guest.

 

“… and unfortunately, you had a bit of an accident in your pants.”

 

~

 

Kevin reached under the sheet and for the first time became aware he was wearing protection as his plastic pants rustled with the sudden movement. He threw back the sheet and examined himself more closely before screwing up his nose in disgust.

 

He looked mystified and then accusingly at Mr W.

 

“Why am I wearing a diaper… and… and … plastic pants,” he mewled like a little kid.

 

Mr W looked at him and shrugged as if he’d got it all wrong.

 

“Well that’s not what you said when I got you out of your messy stuff.”

 

Mr W thought he’d push things a bit and see what reaction he got.

 

“After you’d had a bath and used loads of the creams and stuff… some of which you shouldn’t have used by the way… you asked me to cut your hair, which I did…”

 

Kevin quickly ran his hand through what was left of his fine locks and shook his head in disbelief.

 

He looked pained. “Why would I do that?”

 

The boy was now even more confused and wondering just what else he’d done that he couldn’t remember. He screwed up his eyes in concentration desperate for something, anything to come back to him.

 

“You said you wanted to make a complete new start.”

 

Mr W shrugged as if he didn’t know what all the fuss was about.

 

“I was sorry you wanted to lose your hair but you were adamant and I thought it would make you happy. In fact you were even pleased that some of the creams you used made you lose your body hair.”

 

This was making only part sense to Kevin who was more muddled than ever that he couldn’t remember anything. However, here he was, lying in Mr Wojciechowski bed, all but naked and scratching his head trying to piece it all together.

 

“Did we… er… fuck?”

 

“Earlier, yes but not last night.”

 

Mr W shook his head. “I don’t quite know why you aren’t remembering all the things we’d planned together. We are making a new life for us both… don’t you remember?”

 

Kevin tried but remembered nothing except, well even that stray thought suddenly disappeared and he was trying to take in what this man, was it MrWojciech… Mr Wojciechowski, his boss? He knew that something had been arranged but couldn’t fathom out just what but he could hear the man speaking.     

 

“ …and after your bath you were annoyed at messing your pants and said you must be a baby if you did things like that.”

 

Mr W looked to see what his reaction was going to be.

 

“However, you complained that your stomach felt all ‘bubbly’ and was scared you might do something similar again… so I went out and bought a few things you suggested I should get and you seemed happier once I’d… er” he pointed to his slick diapered crotch, “made you more comfortable.”

 

Kevin was shaking his head. “That’s not likely.”

 

“Well I’m sorry Kevin but…” At that moment the music and soundwaves changed to a different frequency and the boy gripped his stomach as if he was in tremendous pain.

 

“What’s wrong sweetie… have you just remembered something? Is it all coming back to you?”

 

There was a sudden noise as Kevin let rip, which was instantly followed by him shitting in his diaper.

 

“Ohhh Godddd noooo…”

 

Kevin couldn’t stop the stream of effluent flowing from his body and that he was now sitting in. The stink reached Mr W who slightly recoiled.

 

“God heaven’s Kevin, you were so right about taking precautions. Thanks, you saved our bed from becoming a toilet…”

 

Kevin looked up from his soiled diaper and tears were forming in his eyes.

 

“I’m so sorry… I’m…” He unsuccessfully fought back his tears.

 

“Hey, don’t worry little fella,” Mr W. reached out and hugged him trying to console his messy boy. “It was an accident… so… there, there… don’t worry about it… little boys like you are always having accidents… we’ll get you all cleaned up and we can go out and…”

 

Kevin shot him a tearful look as if to say that going out was the last thing on his mind. He’d missed the reference to him being a little boy.

 

“Well, we don’t have to go out but let’s get you cleaned up and into something… well… cleaned up at least.”

 

~

 

He left unsaid what it was he was going to put him in. As it was Kevin seemed relieved when, after his shower and he’d dried himself off that Mr W was waiting for him with another clean disposable and some thick pads.

 

“I know you don’t want this but….” he searched Kevin’s face for any argument, “until we know what’s wrong with your stomach perhaps, for the moment at least, these might be better for you… make you feel safer?”

 

Kevin’s face screwed into an unhappy grimace, He was obviously thinking about options but seemed resigned that it may well be for the best.

 

Mr W tried to make light of it by not making it an issue, he just got on with the job in hand. The thick bulky pads added to the size of the latest diaper but at least it was relieving Kevin of the huge responsibility of not being in control of his own body… and the fact that he had shit himself like a little kid. However, on the plus side he reasoned, there was no one else to see him so reluctantly let this helpful man, his boss, Mr W… well whoever it was, tape the entire mass into place. He really didn’t want the plastic pants as well but Mr W told him that as it made the entire thing leak-proof it would be sensible to wear them. The squabble that Mr W was anticipating didn’t materialise and because of that, reasoned, he’d successfully completed the first part of his plan – to get Kevin in to diapers and be accepting of them.

 

~

 

Meanwhile, not fifteen feet away, Charlie was tottering around the nursery with his dinosaurs that were battling intergalactic aliens. It had been a game that occupied him often and whose side he took was reinforced what he wore.  It could be the cute little navy blue onesie that had a space rocket zooming up to the moon on the front and the plastic pants covered in planets or the matching set of dinosaur coveralls and diapers. He never tired of the game as he waddled from ‘planet’ to ‘planet’ (closet to draws to chair to crib) he’d created in his head. Charlie could keep himself amused for hours only needing his Dada to come and change him occasionally. However, he liked it tons better when his Dada played with him and they rolled around hugging and squealing with joy.

 

~

 

Mr W left Kevin to watch TV as he secretly went to off attend to Charlie. He made the excuse that he had to go and collect something and hoped he’d be okay on his own. Kevin was relieved that there’d be no one around to see him wearing his thick protection so was rather glad he was to be left for a while. Mr W had told him to help himself to food and anything else he wanted but Kevin just settled in front of the huge TV with its hundreds of channels and said he thought he’d be fine. Meanwhile, the audio pumped out its secret sounds and messages and before too long Kevin had fallen asleep with his thumb firmly planted between his lips and his diaper soaked.

 

Something was wrong. Kevin could clearly see he was back in ‘juvy’ and everyone was laughing at him, including the warders. He couldn’t work out why his appearance should cause such laughter, it never had done before but he couldn’t work out what the problem was. Even the few friends he’d made while there chuckled as he went past but no one spoke to him… they smiled with contempt and ridiculed him but he just couldn’t make out what they were shouting. Eventually, one of the grown-ups pulled him to one side and told him not to worry because he’d change him. Thinking that he was going to be hurt he tried to fight the man but was instantly overpowered and held down on a soft mat, where his soaked thick diaper was removed in front of all the other inmates.

 

It came as a shock as he hadn’t known he’d been wearing a diaper but the warder just pulled his protection down, wiped him clean, sprinkled powder and re-diapered him as if it was an everyday occurrence. Once he was all cleaned up the man patted his padded bottom, handed him a teddy bear and told him to go back to playing with his toys while the others went about their chores. There he was, in the middle of the main hall, playing with a host of dolls and other toys, whilst all around him his fellow juvy attendees were mopping the floor, cleaning windows, sweeping or collecting rubbish, it seemed perfectly normal now that he should be playing games.

 

Another warder came over and patted his plastic bottom and offered him a pacifier, which he immediately pushed between his lips and sucked on furiously as if it was the most important thing in the world. Juvy turned into an enormous playpen but there was only him sitting in the middle, sucking on his paci, snuggling his teddy and wondering where everyone else had gone. He started to cry at being alone and he could feel himself messing his diaper and feeling strange…

 

~

 

Mr W was shaking him awake. He’d already noticed that Kevin’s diaper looked saturated and had expanded to fill out his protecting plastic pants. He heard the little whimper from the boy as he gently shook his shoulder and knew that he was filling it even as he tried to wake up.

 

“Kevin, Kevin… wake up… c’mon Kevin,” Mr W said in a sort of sing-song babyish voice. “You are a little sleepy head perhaps we should…”

 

He already knew what had happened but theatrically put his hand on the front of the boys bulging protection.

 

“Mmmm, I think somebody has had another accident.”

 

Kevin was still sobbing from his dream and hadn’t yet got his thoughts together but Mr W pulled him to his feet and gently guided him into the bathroom where he’d prepared the next stage of Kevin’s regression. It wasn’t far but on the journey to the bathroom Kevin held tightly to Mr W’s hand as he nervously shuffled along. He had no idea why he should have such a huge messy diaper but it also didn’t worry him, he was being looked after by a grown-up.

 

Yes, although he wasn’t too sure who this man was he was being very nice and spoke soothing words, he’d also said he was going to clean him up, so that was nice of him.

 

“C’mon Kevin, be good for Daddy.”

 

The man spoke softly and he gently manoeuvred him onto a soft, foam-filled plastic mat.

 

“Let’s get this thing off you,” he said as he pulled down his plastic pants and untaped his diaper.

 

There was a look of confusion on Kevin’s face but his Daddy kept smiling and telling him what a good baby boy he was, so it must be alright… although he wasn’t sure. He got a bit fidgety and tried to wriggle free from this man, his Daddy, but he just gently held him down as he applied some wet wipes to his groin. That tickled and he started to giggle as more cool wet-wipes were used.

 

“Who’s a good little baby? Yes, Kevin is a good little baby, yes he is…”

 

The baby talk and reinforcement carried on for some time as Mr W slowly cleaned him up, tickled his tummy, ‘this little piggy-ed’ his toes and did all the things that any proud parent would do for their little baby boy.

 

Kevin looked up at him as if trying to sort out what was going on. Sucking on his thumb it didn’t seem right but the man was nice, his Daddy was a nice man. The youngster wanted to play but instead his Daddy removed his thumb from his mouth and slipped in a pacifier which tasted really good. He sucked and found that there was some nice sweet syrupy substance that he enjoyed so wasn’t aware that his Daddy put him back into an even thicker diaper and thick pink rubber pants that were locked into place. A little pale blue smock was fed over his head which reached to his waist but his bulging protection hung low and obvious for anyone to see. However, it didn’t bother Kevin, in fact he wasn’t aware of what he was wearing it was just clothes his Daddy had dressed him in.

 

~

 

Kevin had become the very thing Bronislav wanted and had completely regressed in record time. He’d been far easier to subdue than Charlie and Mr W beamed in pleasure as his two little toys now lay in the crib together.  He was proud of his achievements whilst his two little boys wearing their thick diapers slept peacefully and without a care in the world - Kevin hugging his new baby brother and Charlie hugging his giraffe. Their Dada was overjoyed to see the transformation but it hadn’t been as easy as he had hoped to get the two boys to take to each other.

 

****

tbc

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Part 6

 

Mr Wojciechowski was sitting at his desk speaking to the concerned parents of Charlie. They hadn’t heard from him for almost a month and wanted to know where he was.

 

“I’m sorry Mr and Mrs Clarke but Charlie hasn’t worked for us for some weeks now.”

 

The parents looked perplexed as he continued.

 

“Because of the financial downturn we’ve been forced to slim down our staffing levels and I’m afraid Charlie was one of the casualties.”

 

He tried to make sure they knew he wasn’t fired for doing anything wrong.

 

“So, like around fifteen percent of our staff… he was laid off.”

 

At that moment Miss Thorpe walked in carrying a sheaf of papers and handed it to her boss.

 

He shuffled through them

 

“Yes, here it is,” he looked at the single sheet of paper he now held.

 

“On the 18^th of last month we gave him a month’s extra pay and he left us immediately. I’m not sure if he took it too well…”

 

He left the inference unsaid.

 

Mr and Mrs Clarke looked agitated.

 

“But he told us that you and he were going off to work on a brand new project, developing sites and…”

 

Mr W was trying to placate Charlie’s distraught parents.

 

“I’m sorry but we simply don’t have any new projects at the moment, if anything… we are trying to cut back even more.”

 

“He said he was going to be your personal assistant and it was a live in position.” The two frantic parents insisted.

 

They seemed at their wits end and looked imploringly at Mr Wojciechowski for some kind of answer. He couldn’t come up with anything.

 

“I’m sorry, really sorry but…” he turned to his secretary. “Can you shed any light on this at all?”

 

Miss Thorpe looked uncomfortable and obviously had something to say but didn’t dare speak. Everyone could see it but it took some imploring from Charlie’s parents before she’d tell what she knew.

 

“He left immediately after the company had to let him go. He didn’t even close down his computer, just grabbed his things and left.”

 

She was reluctant to say what was really on the tip of her tongue but thought it was something Charlie’s parents ought to know.

 

“I’m really sorry to say this Mr and Mrs Clarke,” she nervously gulped her words but carried on. “but I think your son was a bit infatuated with Mr Wojciechowski.”

 

Mr W interrupted her. “I’m sure not. I took him on the occasional field trip to our sites, he seemed so keen to know all there was about the business, I was impressed by his enthusiasm but I never saw…”

 

Now it was Miss Thorpe’s turn to interrupt.

 

“Sir, he was always hanging around the office, even when you were out at meetings.”

 

She let the information she’d been holding back burst out.

 

“He’d regularly appear at my desk asking to see you on the most ludicrous excuse, saying you’d asked him for a new file or some such thing, even though you hadn’t been in the office for days.”

 

Mr W looked suitably shocked as did Charlie’s parents.

 

Miss Thorpe looked like she thought she’d said too much. “I’m sorry Mr and Mrs Clarke,” there were tears in their eyes now, “but I thought you should know.”

 

~

 

 

Mr Wojciechowski arrived home to see his latest Executive Toy playing innocently amongst a pile of dolls and building blocks. He’d been happily surprised at how quickly Charlie had absorbed all the influences, drugs, suggestions and hypno-reinforcements to which he’d been subjected, to become a sweet little toddler only interested in his own games. He seemed just as happy to play on his own as he was when his Daddy came and joined in.

 

It was true that Mr W did indeed love to be his Daddy and take care of his little man and it was heart-warming at the speed the teenager accepted his new place in the world. Within days all his grown up perceptions had been removed and a new set of toddler instructions were introduced to his passive and easily receptive mind.

 

The diapers strengthened that view as little Charlie slipped totally into the condition of being a Forever Kid. His clothes were those of a sweet little boy. His Daddy had things made that would imprint it continually on his mind. He recreated the little blue and white striped bib and brace overalls he’d worn as an infant in the photograph. He made the giraffe a constant symbol on his clothing to reinforce that memory of being a happy pre-schooler. Going on Charlie’s earlier childish expression that all clothes should me made out of the same material as his fleecy blanket, that’s just what he got, a fine tight fitting short fleecy coverall, which moulded to his body and showed off the bulging thick protection underneath.

 

His Daddy also loved the fact that when he played in his little outfits, they would ride up and his diaper with its rubber or plastic cover could quite easily be seen. As with all little kids, what he wore was not important so the bundle between his legs never bothered him, To Mr Wojciechowski this is what having a teenage toy was all about. He found it quite an experience to see, a young man in his diaper and not having to worry about it. In truth it turned him on to be able to manipulate someone so easily and thought he’d done a good job on Charlie. It didn’t worry Charlie in the slightest; he was oblivious to any such intentions.

 

~

 

It had been inevitable that Mr and Mrs Clarke would come calling seeking answers but he realised with Miss Thorpe’s reluctant, though rather compelling evidence, that Charlie’s parents would have to look elsewhere for any resolution. He’d offered to help in any way he could, promising he would ask the foremen at their sites around the country to keep an eye out in case he turned up; perhaps, he offered hopefully, one that they’d visited together in the past.

 

He did suggest some further information, which in truth was a huge red herring; he told them that on their trips to various sites he always spoke about yachts. His parents had no idea about this side of their son, and why should they as it didn’t exist. However, Mr W went on how Charlie would produce a yachting magazine and enthuse about some photograph or other of an expensive boat. Indeed, the bigger and more luxurious the yacht was, the more it interested him and he would say how exciting he thought it must be to travel the world in such extravagance. Of course he’d never said anything of the sort but it gave them another hopeful lead as to the possible whereabouts of their missing son.

 

He wished Charlie’s parents well and trusted their boy would soon be in contact. He was sure it was just a reaction to losing his job and maybe for some reason feeling a bit guilty about that fact. He remained positive in the face of such a despairing pair. No doubt, once he’d had chance to think about it he’d return home, like he assumed teenagers did, as if nothing had happened.

 

~

 

The transformation from cute teenager to even cuter toddler had been a wonder to behold. Mr W hadn’t had to put half of the tricks he had envisaged into practice as Charlie succumbed instantly (almost willingly) to each suggestion and slipped effortlessly into his life of diapers. His toddler bum, wrapped in a succession of colourful covers as he played and waddled about the nursery, was a constant joy. Even when he snuggled up whilst wearing only a thick white well-padded disposable made Charlie even more loving and appealing. In fact, Mr W was astounded, no matter how Charlie was dressed, from the most basic to his own take on ‘toddler fashion’, he looked prettier and sweeter than any child in any baby magazine.

 

His Daddy (or Dada as he now called him) absolutely adored seeing his little mite when he was put in his crib for a daytime nap or his bedtime; hugging his furry giraffe, sucking on his bottle and wearing his well-padded footed onesie. A kiss and a cuddle were all that were needed to send him off into a peaceful night’s sleep.

 

His Dada made sure that every morning he’d wake up wet and messy, he felt it important that the bonding between them should maintain its strength, so cleaning his sweet boy’s bum and wrinkled little privates was all part of that. Once fitted in his constantly changing selection of ultra-thick colourful diapers Dada would smooth the rubber or plastic cover over the mound where once a raging cock that desired sex lay but now hung unused except when it emptied his bladder.

 

Having Charlie sit on his lap as they watched movies or cartoons together was a constant source of delight as he stroked and caressed his lovely, floppy-haired baby. The glossy fabric protection rubbing against his skin caused sensation after sensation to course through his body. Even the rustle of his diapers as he waddled to greet his Dada was music to the man’s ears and he was so happy with the results of making this adorable little youth into his toy.

 

~

 

Charlie wasn’t the first Executive Toy although he didn’t describe them as that to begin with, they were just susceptible teens who he liked to practice his ‘art’ on. In amongst the cartoon characters painted on the nursery wall were three other characters that might not immediately be identifiable. The cute little baby carrying the Polish flag and wearing a similarly styled diaper was in fact Mr W’s younger brother Amadei.

 

When they were kids the two brothers shared a bedroom. Amadei was two years his junior but when he got to around fourteen he became quite a handful. He began to get a reputation for trying to get into every girl’s knickers and it wasn’t through charm it was as if he thought he had a right. Any female just wasn’t safe and his macho vision of himself was making a very egocentric and unconstrained young man. Bronislav (Mr W) who was even at that early age very much into hypnosis and psychology wondered if there was anything he could do to halt what he and his family saw as the rise of a possible sex fiend.

 

Bronislav’s interest in hypnosis began when he was eight and his parents had taken him to see a show at the local theatre. A stage hypnotist was on the variety bill and the young and impressionable Bronislav was completely in awe of a rather weedy looking man having so much influence over other, bigger men he could make do silly things. The show had been the catalyst and the boy went away dreaming of exerting such control over others.

 

The two boys shared a bedroom so it wasn’t too difficult for the older brother to bring a few ideas into play as his brother slept - he was surprised at the results. By continually making suggestions as his sibling slumbered Bronislav was soon able to make him wet himself during the night. After waking up several mornings in a row to a soaked bed, his mother a nurse, insisted her fourteen year-old son slept in a pielucha (diaper). The effect on Amadei was almost instant. The cockiness and seeing every female as prey began to disappear as he felt the chauvinist side slipping and his petulant juvenile side reappear. Bronislav loved to watch as his brother was put into is pielucha every night by their mother, all that bravado gone and only a baby brother was left.

 

~

 

Bronislav was delighted by the discovery of such influence and continued to keep his susceptible younger brother in his place. A couple of times when he tried to talk his mother into letting him out of wearing his protection to bed, he’d have a terrible messy accident which merely confirmed that it was too soon. She also said that if he continued to mess his diaper that she’d put him in a little smock, like they used to wear when she was a little girl. It was for all children who were yet to be toilet trained because it made access to change their pielucha that much easier.

 

Bronislav desperately wanted to see his brother reduced to this state and the idea of Amadei’s soggy pielucha hanging down waiting to be changed appealed to his ‘other side’. Perhaps not quite a ‘dark side’ but he did enjoy the control and power that his abilities had granted and couldn’t wait to investigate further. To try and emphasise the point he brought out toys that had been put away many years before and scattered around his brother’s bed to accentuate his childishness and no amount of denials by Amadei to his mother for making the bedroom an untidy playground were believed.

 

His older brother even planted other thoughts deep in his subconscious so that at certain trigger words he would unintentionally mess himself. This was particularly effective at school when in math his teacher mentioned ‘Pythagoras’ and he’d immediately pissed himself in front of the entire class. Another such word was ‘vault’, which had a similar messy result during gym. Wearing only a vest and a tiny pair of white short; that was an embarrassment he didn’t get over, especially when it happened a few more times and the principal insisted that he wear protection to school in future.

 

Amadei’s treatment wasn’t over when he got home as his older brother would pat his diapered butt and mock him, but his mother saw this happen too many times to let it go so, as punishment, insisted that Bronislav change his brother’s messy diapers. At first the older sibling tried to rebel but his mother was adamant that if he thought his brother’s unfortunate situation was something to make fun of then he needed to know otherwise.

 

However, Bronislav actually didn’t mind cleaning up his brother because it gave him more power over him and because of part suggestion and part deviousness; he managed to get his brother to wear thicker diapers and more childish outfits. He liked that the well-padded diaper emasculated his brother so not only was he no longer a threat to any one, he also looked like he was no longer a threat.

 

Both his parents were shocked at this change but Bronislav managed to make his little brother kick off; screaming, shouting and generally creating if he was taken out of his more ‘colourful’ clothing. He also saw to it that the diaper was more than just a little bit visible, puffing out over the waistband or appearing bulky and immense under his pants. At his suggestion his mother also bought thick plastic pants to help protect his clothes from the constant dampness of his pielucha, so that also became part of the young Amadei’s procedure. In fact, it was that visibility that Bronislav began to find a bit of a turn on. He found handling his brother’s protection, the texture and glossy feel of the plastic gave him a raging hard on. The parents had no idea what their oldest son was up to, or how successful he’d been, they were just relieved that their young son had somehow been curbed from his predatory behaviour. They attributed this fact to their firm but fair parenting.

 

~

 

After their father’s death Bronislav’s mother returned to Poland to run a care home together with her ‘mentally challenged’ son: The effect that his older brother’s constant suggestions, affirmations and implants had sent Amadei into a downward spiral of diaper dependency from which he would never recover. Their father had been a successful town planner in Poland before he emigrated with his young family. It took some time to establish himself but after a few years he’d made a name as an architect and designer and formed his own company. Business was doing well when he died but his eldest son, who had learned at his father’s side, took over the business and helped it grow. With various take-overs and mergers the company he now led was worth several million.

 

His mother never forgot her nursing background and if truth was known, had never wanted to leave her homeland in the first place, but her husband had insisted it would be a better life for them… and it was. However, with his death came her yearning to return home so, armed with a considerable amount of money and with her nursing background, she invested in the one thing she always wanted to have, her own care home. It also meant that her son, like all the others at the facility got attention 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

 

~

 

The young and successful Bronislav created a firm that reaped loads of government building contracts. Those in the business couldn’t work out how this ‘Pole’ (as they tried to dismiss his ethnicity) kept gaining more and more lucrative work. The company designed and built, planned and developed so much that their competitors grew suspicious but could never pin down just what it was. In meetings Mr Wojciechowski Junior had such a calm and studied way of describing his ideas that those with the power to grant planning permission and award contracts did just that.

 

Meanwhile, back at ‘Evergreen’, as a memory and a tribute to his ability to influence others, Bronislav had depicted his younger brother on the nursery wall as the little baby he’d reduced him to. The cheerful marching toddler, proudly displaying his nation’s colours and thick diaper was the first but he wasn’t going to be the last.

 

~

 

Bronislav started studying with intensity; psychology, hypnosis, mind altering drugs, sound waves that affect the brain… anything he could get his hands on. He’d been pleased in what he’d achieved with his brother and wanted to learn more. He read everything on the subject, whilst at the same time learned his father’s business. Bronislav was a very talented and clever student and absorbed information very quickly.

 

~

 

Years later there was the uniform wearing Klaus, the hitch-hiking scout he picked up who wanted a lift to a town twenty-five miles away. He never made it. With a few knockout drops in a friendly offered soda and a few weeks of intensive retraining he became his first real Executive Toy. He wasn’t as easy to influence as his brother had been but all that he needed was a little help in coming to terms with his new position in life. Blond haired Klaus was a spectacular looking young seventeen year-old athletic, intelligent and confident youth. Watching him crawling around in his thick white diaper, sucking on his thumb and playing with his favourite pink teddy bear gave Mr W a constant horn in his pants.

 

On the cartoon wall he was the jolly little Boy Scout in the brightly coloured neckerchief, with matching gaily coloured plastic pants, which ballooned because of the thick diaper underneath. Klaus had been Mr W’s toy for six months and had been a constant joy in what he could get his ‘little’ boy to do. However, despite him being young in age he was still growing and though at times it was fun to see such a sweet boy in a diaper, Mr W had business distractions that meant he couldn’t give him the attention he needed. Thankfully, a friend of Mr W’s who had a similar love of ‘babies’ asked if he could adopt him. So, he was now living with a dentist out in the suburbs as a three year-old toddler and had been for the past three years.

 

The third cartoon image on the wall was of Brent, a sweet little run-away from the south, who found sanctuary with the incredibly generous and helpful Mr Wojciechowski, the man who gave him money, treated him to a meal and even better, treated him as a person and not some kid to be knocked around.

 

Mr. W insisted that Brent should make his own way in life but the boy, barely out of school, thought he was onto a winner by milking this Good Samaritan of all he could. The offer of a bed and a bath for the night had won the suspicious, though opportunistic, boy over but that was also what sealed his fate. Mr W discovered the young man tiptoeing out of his house the following morning with his pockets loaded with stolen items and cash… he didn’t feel quite so guilty in quickly getting the boy into diapers.

 

Bronislav was not forgiving and commenced a very deep and fierce programme of rehabilitation that included the complete destruction of the lad’s understanding of the world around him. He would perhaps have been happy to be forced to wear diapers and act like a toddler but instead he was regressed back to being a six month old baby with no ability to do anything more than what a child of that age could do. On the wall he was depicted as a cartoon raccoon - well he was a baby wearing a bandit’s mask, a cartoon style raccoon short onesie with swag over flowing from his huge prison-striped diaper that could be seen bulging out from his leg holes.

 

Like Klaus, he was found a family who wanted a baby so now lived back in his native south, with a mommy and daddy who wanted a perpetual child. When he delivered Brent to his new parents he was wearing only a thick pretty pink diaper and cover, a small pink smock that came down to his hips, a pink bonnet and a pink pacifier, the couple hadn’t decided if they wanted a boy or a girl so Bronislav left them with the option. How it all ended up he didn’t know as he didn’t keep in contact with the families who took either of his previous ‘toys’.

 

~

 

Now there was Charlie - he’d already decided what image he should have of him on the wall. He’ll be wearing his tight little short green fleecy coverall with the giraffe emblazoned on the front. His green diaper and plastic pants will be visible like they were in the photograph of him with his parents on the promenade. Meanwhile, he’d got very, very fond of the boy. He loved the quick way he’d taken to being a toddler. He loved the fun they had together. He loved cuddling the boy when watching TV and he even loved watching him sleep. Charlie was different to the others and his floppy-haired innocence as he hugged the giraffe and suckled on his paci just reinforced that view - Charlie was the best toddler in the world.

 

There were times when Mr W envied Charlie. He wished that somehow he could regress himself and that they’d be the same age to play together in a pure toddler world where everything was brand new, exciting and an adventure. The constant audio that sent sound waves and words of reinforcement directly into Charlie’s head had no effect on his Dada. It wouldn’t be possible to do that to himself but, he wondered, if he got Charlie a friend to play with, it wouldn’t only be nicer for him to have a playmate, but Dada could watch as the two little imps develop and interact.

 

A new thought entered his head but he knew, with Charlie’s disappearance, he’d have to be very careful with what he planned on doing.

 

~

 

Mr Wojciechowski knew that Kevin was very grateful for having a job. He was on a government programme where companies took on young school leavers who, let’s say, had a past. Kevin had been in and out of foster homes from being a baby, all his young life he’d reacted badly to authority and so had got into trouble enough times to send him to a juvenile correction facility, where he learned quickly what to do to survive. Thankfully, the powers that be had decided, after his sentence to give him a try at a real job and the government stumped up the cash if anyone would take him on.

 

At his interview he came over very well, confident but not as boastful or full of attitude like other eighteen year-olds that had applied for jobs in the past. He was personable and his back story had hit the hearts of the three people in the human resources department who had interviewed him. He was in. The job was menial; collecting and distributing mail, collecting files, organising the lounge and conference rooms and making sure they were clean, tidy and had whatever refreshments or stationary were required. He did his work well and was always cheerful around the office so was well-liked, so it wasn’t long before he caught the eye of Mr Wojciechowski.

 

Kevin had learned a lot in his young life and, when he thought he might be laid off like many other members of the staff, he went and hoped to persuade the boss to keep him on. Mr W was surprised when young Kevin came to see him, and even more surprised that the boy wasn’t aware that the government paid for him to work, he decided he wouldn’t share that info, who, in an effort to impress his boss, got down on his knees and performed oral sex. Once he came, and it had to be said he’d got a load of pent up jizz bubbling in his balls, Mr W told the slobbering youngster that he had a bright future with the firm and that it was safe in his hands. The grateful youth promised that anytime Mr W needed some ‘relief’ he’d be only too pleased to be of service.

 

~

 

The huge company ‘audit’ that had just happened and the laying off of staff had actually been the preliminaries to a possible take-over bid. Mr Wojciechowski had seen it coming and knew it was only a matter of time before the hawks would fly in and take the company whilst it was at its lowest ebb. However, the owners, the executive directors, would make quite a tidy sum if the company was swallowed up some bigger conglomerate so financially they had little to fear.

 

Mr Wojciechowski had decided that it was time to retire and pursue his real interests so, began to take a back seat in the running of the company and attended the office only when needed.

 

Kevin had been called upon to perform his services only occasionally though Mr W would have preferred a more regular arrangement – for someone so young and sweet he was very good. Like he had with Charlie he’d thought about trying to persuade the sexy little mail boy to adopt diapers as a preferred form of underwear but decided on a different course of action - though one he hoped would produce the same result.

 

However, with Charlie missing it would be inconceivable that should a second youth disappear that flags wouldn’t start to wave.

 

As Kevin was on his knees and enjoying slurping on his boss, the man himself was planting thoughts and ideas into the boy’s head. With his ability of being able to influence other people’s mind he convinced the boy, with the promise that they should set up home together, to make preparations to leave the company. Kevin loved the thought of shacking up with a good-looking millionaire, especially as that millionaire was saying they had a life together. However, Mr W pointed out that initially, and because of the obvious age difference, and to avoid any police suspicions, they needed a plan.

 

Mr W told Kevin that he needed to start having rows with his carers at home, so much so that they would be glad to see the back of him when he eventually ran off. He needed to sound a bit disgruntled around the office, complain a bit and mess up some of the things he needed to do – be late, belligerent and disrespectful. The boy wasn’t going to know what the final outcome of all this was going to be but he played his part to perfection.

 

After a couple of weeks of venting his anger and frustration with the world he had to declare that he couldn’t stand it anymore, tell them all to go fuck themselves, pack a bag and as much money as could muster and storm out. Mr W would arrange to pick him up at a secret location and then they could start their new life together.

 

Kevin loved the plan and within two weeks he’d done what he had to do; angered enough people, threw aggressive fits and generally disrupted what had become a pleasant life. On that final day and only three hours after storming out of the house (and a performance that any actor would have been proud of), he was standing under a tree in the deserted countryside excitedly waiting for his ride from the rich man who wanted to look after him. He was so excited at the prospect he was standing with a stiff dick in his jeans.

 

****

 

tbc

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Part 5

 

I could tell that the moment for sex had passed, and despite being pretty frustrated realised he’d moved on to another part of getting me settled in. It may have just been the relaxed way everything had been done; no drama, no uneasy situations, no questions even; he had simply got on with it in a suitably expert manner. However, now I wore only a diaper and plastic pants it didn’t feel as strange as perhaps it should.

 

Before, when I had worn them under my suit, it all felt bulky and very awkward at times but now, well, unhindered it felt… natural. I know it was still fairly cumbersome but it just didn’t feel that way. When I looked through the clear plastic to my thick terry cloth diaper I smiled that the pins had little plastic kittens covering the bit that enclosed the sharp pin – Daddy was certainly making sure I didn’t get hurt by a wayward pin prick. The pristine white of the fabric certainly filled out the front of the see-thru cover and the smooth, glossy quality gave no illusions that I was anything but a little boy who still needed protection.

 

Yes, I’m eighteen (I think) but now, in my current state, I was certainly beginning to feel like a toddler. I wriggled in my diaper, distinguishing its layered properties between my skin and the floor. Meanwhile, the inflated proportions out front gave a sense of complete slippery security. My boss was no longer my boss but a man who took delight in caring for his chosen subject, and no matter how weird it might appear to be, dressing a teenager as a baby, I felt completely safe and more than happy to comply… I also didn’t feel like a toy, executive or otherwise, I felt… loved.

 

Daddy looked down on me and smiled the most wonderful of proud smiles and I must have gone several shades of pink as the blush seemed to start at my face and travel right down my body. He’d previously said that it was something he found stress-relieving and I could see it in his less strained face. At work, whilst we’d been occupied achieving the audit he had looked under a great deal of pressure, we all had. However, now, as he gazed down at me I could vouch that what we were doing together must indeed be good for him… he looked years younger. I know I thought I could get him away from this ‘baby complex’ but a nervous, excited tremor ran through my body when I realised just how much I was enjoying it and wanted to be a  part of it.

 

Again I wondered – how did he know?

 

He helped me to my feet and, guided by his hand, padded happily back into the nursey. He sat me on the sofa and went off to one of the closets and brought back a large, fluffy pale green fleecy blanket. When he sat down next to me I was pulled onto his lap and he placed an arm around my shoulder and drew the blanket up over my semi-naked body. The fabric’s texture was wonderful and so soft to the touch; it was like stroking a little kitten and I would have been happy to do nothing more than sit there enjoying the comfort of such a delightful cover. I wiggled in contentment as I lay in his warm embrace and mentioned that I thought all clothes should be made from that same fabric because it was so nice to touch. Daddy nodded in agreement as we both snuggled under its cosiness.

 

~

 

Since I’d arrived at ‘Evergreen’, the house that was now my home, I’d had a strange but wonderful feeling of total… peace. I’m not sure if there was something in the air, or the constant low but enchanting music that was played in every room, or I was simply happy to be in Mr… er… Daddy’s company, whatever the reason I remained happy and content about all that was happening to me. Before I arrived, and in some of the considerations I’d had while explaining to mum and dad about my new job, I’d wondered how I would react to his diaper regime. However, there was absolutely no denying that now I was here, dressed in a thick protection, a paci in my mouth and cuddling onto a fleecy blanket, I was incredibly happy – yet I wasn’t sure why.

 

This wasn’t the way I expected my life to progress so was a bit confused as to why I’d accepted all this so easily and why I felt so deliriously grateful and happy?

 

I wasn’t sure of… anything, yet here I was, snuggling up to my boss, my Daddy and loving every minute of it.

 

It was bizarre that I was beginning to look like a toddler; apart from the recently boyishly re-styled hair on my head I was hairless, I was enjoying the snuggling, I was enjoying wearing my protection, and once in that protection, thoughts of anything but pleasing Daddy and being the little boy he wanted vanished with each hug and cuddle. I don’t think I’d ever felt happier and the urge I had for us to have sex seemed to be diminishing the more comfortable I became.

 

~

 

We watched a Disney cartoon feature. It was funny, colourful and on occasions brought a tear to my eye but, held by Daddy, who seemed to be the best cuddler in the world, I watched transfixed and excited through the entire movie. He held me and calmed me when I got animated over something on screen - he rubbed my bare tummy, he caressed my brow, he patted my naked leg and stroked that silky mound that hid my cock so deeply underneath. I was in kiddie-heaven and in just a matter of what seemed like moments, had regressed to being the infant he wanted; keen and excited about everything and even childishly denying I was sleepy when I’d actually fallen asleep for a few minutes in his strong arms.

 

Once the movie finished I became wide-awake again and we chatted about what I was like as a baby. In fact, he’d asked me to bring a photo of when I was small so he could see just exactly what I was like. I waddled to my case which  had been placed on top of a gaily painted box with ‘TOYS’ and characters printed all over it and unzipped a pocket on the side where I’d left the images. My plastic pants rustled with each movement but I found the sound reassuring as I ‘ran’ back to Daddy.

 

~

 

I’d brought two photographs; the first had my parents on either side of me as we walked along the promenade at the seaside. Each was holding a hand whilst I was in the middle being swung between them. I must have been about eighteen months old, had blond hair, although now I’m dark, was wearing a blue and white striped short bib-and-brace set with a cartoon giraffe on the front, a blue t-shirt, whilst my little white plastic sandals set the entire picture off. I was obviously screaming with delight and you could see my thick diaper up my shorts leg as I was being swung into the air and also the few pop-studs up the legs and across the crotch that gave them easy access when I needed changing.  

 

The other photograph was of me sitting in a toy car, the type you put some money in at the mall and it vrooms and beeps for a few minutes while the young occupant pretends he’s driving. Again I’m smiling, wearing a yellow t-shirt with a different giraffe on the front, little grey shorts, which again displays the diaper over the waistband, and a pair of sunglasses, so I assumed, though I couldn’t quite remember, that we might still have been on vacation somewhere. Daddy loved them.

 

He was constantly stroking my padded bum as he looked at them. “Do you like giraffes?”

 

“Mmm, yes, they’re my favourite animal. I used to have a stuffed giraffe as my special… you know… friend I wouldn’t go to bed without having with me.”  

 

I wondered if I’d made myself clear but he was nodding so I knew all was well.

 

I loved his smile. His entire face lit up and it made me feel wonderful to know it was me who was making him beam. It was odd because I felt exactly the same way when I was a toddler when my parents smiled at me if I did something that pleased them. So I enthused more about the selection of plushies I had as a kid; Helen, my teddy, Spanky the lop-eared rabbit, Kermit the Frog, Boris the beagle and Wally the wallaby. I also had loads of small teddies but I couldn’t remember all their names.

 

Daddy seemed pleased with my list and took me to inspect the array of stuffed animals that surrounded the walls of the nursery. He said that they were all mine to play with but wondered which one would become my ‘special’ friend, the one who would be sleeping with me every night. I spotted a giraffe amongst the gathering and picked him out to join us on the sofa.

 

~

 

As I sat and made a tent out of the blanket for me and Jeremy (the giraffe) to hide under, Daddy went off to get us some food. I was expecting pizza and beer but instead I got a bowl of macaroni cheese and a warm bottle of milk. The milk was in a baby’s bottle so I had to suck out its contents, which took a bit of getting used to and though Daddy offered to feed me, I did that myself. He ate a huge sandwich and washed it down with a glass of white wine, which I looked longingly at. Having said that, it’s not like I’m a big drinker but I thought we might celebrate or something. In the end we clashed my bottle and his glass together, said ‘Cheers’ and drank our drink.  

 

I asked him about alcohol and he was very specific that because he saw me as a child, a baby in fact, there would be nothing for me that he wouldn’t expect a baby to eat or drink… so alcohol was a definite no-no. The same rule applied to just about everything; if it wasn’t what a baby would do or be expected to do, wear or be expected to wear, speak and know when not to, it wasn’t going to happen. I had noticed, when I’d had my bath, there wasn’t a toilet in there so I was expected to use the diaper for everything. No point in asking because it wasn’t going to happen, I wore diapers for a reason and a big boy’s toilet was out of the question. This I thought was going to be a problem but I soon found out otherwise.

 

~

 

I had no idea of time so after the food and drink Daddy wiped my face and the slight mess I’d dripped onto my bare chest, and said it was time little ones were in bed. I was about to complain but a huge yawn caught me in mid-sentence so that brought any argument to a swift conclusion. He slipped his fingers under my plastic pants to check my diaper, I was reasonably dry (a few dribbles of excitement had managed to escape when I was watching the movie) and he looked happy. He went over to one of the closets and I could see a vast array of colourful baby clothes hung up and other items stacked in neat piles. He selected something and brought it back to the sofa.

 

“OK buster,” he said in a mock gangster voice, “get those hands in the air.”

 

I surrendered immediately and did as he said, giggling as a pale blue onesie was pulled over my head and fastened between my legs; the bulky protection puffing out the thin fabric which surprisingly held it together. He slipped a pair of pale blue soft flannel socks over each foot and then led me shuffling towards the crib.

 

Although I’d seen the crib earlier it had never occurred to me that I would actually be expected to sleep in it, I assumed we’d be sleeping together. I was about to mention this when he slipped in a blue pacifier, pulled down the rail and, with his hand gently pushing against my thickly padded bottom, guided me in. Once again I felt powerless to do anything but comply. The music that was constantly being played gently in the background changed to a lullaby theme.  Daddy found a book and started reading a Winnie the Pooh story. I was sure I wasn’t tired but after a few minutes I felt my eyes closing even before Daddy had finished the first chapter.

 

I fell asleep gently caressing the immensity of my diaper underneath the tightly fitting onesie. The bulky mound offered silky comfort even though I could no longer feel my genitals, which recently had often been raging for release. It was probably only a few consoling strokes before I fell under the spell of the soft music, the softer blanket, cuddling Jeremy and the pleasant, reassuring tones of Daddy’s story-telling.

 

~

 

I woke up to the sound of chirping birds. A slight yellow glow filled the room as my eyes adjusted to the surroundings and I became aware that it was morning. Jeremy was laid by my side and the paci had somehow got itself stuck to my cheek. I felt unperturbed listening to the sound of birdsong, which merged with the usual soft but constant music, until I realised that I must have wet myself in my sleep. In fact, I became aware that I’d done more than just peed in my diaper, I’d filled it completely. I didn’t understand how I could have done such a thing, yet there was no denying that I had. The side bars on the crib had been raised and it felt for a moment like I was lying in jail but of course there were no bars across the top so, as I slowly and tentatively dragged myself up into a sitting position, I took in all that was around me.

 

The room appeared well equipped for a toddler to have the most fun. It was bright, colourful and decorated with happy characters from nursery rhymes and kid’s books. There were several large boxes with the word ‘TOYS’ emblazoned across them and the white closets and draws made the entire place look clean and well maintained.

 

A wide shelf reached along one wall and that was backed by a mirror that also ran its length. Diapers, both disposable and fabric, were piled at either end, along with a rail that held a multitude of colourful diaper covers and plastic pants. On a shelf above all that were a vast selection off bottles and containers, wipes and pins and other things I couldn’t identify from my restricted vantage point. That area was obviously the changing station and, as that thought took hold, I looked down to see the yellow, discoloured diaper under my clear plastic pants. Guiltily I checked the bedding under my padded bottom and was relieved that nothing had leaked but I was feeling a bit uncomfortable and wondered if I could get up and change myself.

 

~

 

No sooner had I thought about getting up than Daddy opened the door.

 

“Good morning little fella,” he said striding to my crib side, “did you sleep well?”

 

He was wearing a white vest, under a grey unzipped hoodie and white shorts. He was sweating and looked like he’d just been on a long run; his dark blue trainers adding to the image of my sporty Daddy.

 

I beamed automatically at him. Not only was I pleased to see him but he looked so healthy and sexy I was sure, under normal circumstances, my cock would have burst through the diaper in greeting. However, I was wet and messy and any sexual thoughts may well have been lying in the muck I was sitting in. He reached in and slid fingers under the plastic protection.

 

“Who’s a messy boy then?”

 

I was a little bit embarrassed but not as much as I thought I would be after such a mishap. It helped that there was no accusation in his words as he slid down the crib rail and helped me to my feet. Those grown up thoughts of embarrassment and shame were soon escaping my head and I was happy to let Daddy take charge.  Cautiously, guided by his encouragement and firm hand on my soggy bottom, I waddled over to the diaper station where he effortlessly lifted me up and laid me on a soft plastic mat.

 

~

 

Within seconds the poppers on my onesie were open and he was sliding my plastic pants down my legs. My diaper felt heavy and full so he carefully unpinned it and gingerly opened it up.

 

He gave a mock grimace. “Mmm, I think my baby needed that didn’t he?”

 

I didn’t really know how to respond to that, this was the first time since I was an actual baby that I’d messed myself - a slight whimper was my response.

 

He could see me struggling with what happened and the slight guilt that was creeping through my body.

 

“Well don’t let it worry my little cutie,” he said reassuringly, “diapers and poo are made to go together and I’m proud of my boy….”

 

He slipped a new paci between my lips as he continued to clean, wash, lotion and powder my groin. Being looked after and the centre of Daddy’s world was such a wonderful feeling, I squirmed and giggled as he continued his ministrations. He took his time and was very meticulous making sure I was spotless and well prepared before he grabbed a disposable and tightly wrapped me in it.

 

All the time he was smiling and sweet baby-talking as I lay placid and gurgled behind my paci. He’d prepared a double diaper, so I suppose he wanted me well protected, but before he let me up his hands scooted along the rail of covers until he found something he thought suitable. From my position I could only just see his fingers linger over a pair of green plastic pants. His face lit up and he pulled them from the hanger they were on and held them up for me to see. They were bright green with little brown diapered baby bears all over them. I don’t think he was waiting for my approval as he said that his little baby boy was going to be playing all day and needed extra protection. Indeed, the plastic was very heavy and stiff and crinkled loudly as he rolled them up my thighs and over the layered diapers.

 

~

 

I was chuckling to myself but a sudden wave of comprehension flooded my mind. How on earth had I got to such a situation where this was acceptable? Yet here I was absolutely loving every minute of it all and I could feel myself responding positively to everything being done. So no sooner had the notion materialized than it was fading just as quickly. As he was getting me ready his words became more and more geared toward a toddler  and I responded with similar clipped and juvenile jargon, whether the paci was in my mouth or not. It just seemed so appropriate.

 

Once my new voluminous plastic pants were in place I sat up, accompanied by some very loud crinkling and he unfurled a new matching green t-shirt to slide over my head. It didn’t hide the diaper. In fact, Daddy ran his hand over and around the entire glossy package, it was if he was checking not only was I well-padded but that any trace of my erogenous zones were completely obliterated.  

 

“We don’t want Daddy’s little sweetheart to be bothered by anything grown up do we?

 

He ran his hand over my silky bulge as if checking to see if my cock had disappeared.

 

“Let’s get him back to being a lovely little baby shall we?”

 

His words smothered my mind and I nodded and tittered in total compliance.

 

“No pee-pee to worry about except for wetting his lovely comfy diaper… wont that be more fun… eh?”

 

The tight plastic gripped around my legs and tummy so he seemed content that access and exit were completely restricted.

 

However, it didn’t matter to me because we went over to one of the toy boxes and rummaged around to find something to play with. I checked in all three big boxes and there were loads and loads of different toys; dolls, building bricks, cars, spaceships, plushies, castles, dinosaurs, animals, colouring books - everything. There was no stopping me as I slid back to when I was a toddler and the fun I used to have; my powers of invention always ran riot as I played on my own (and with imaginary friends) there were no restrictions. I always loved immersing myself in a day full of play and happy to keep myself amused - there was plenty here for me to do that.

 

~

 

I was quite enjoying rushing around wearing little more than my protection. Without anything to hinder or bunch up I soon got into the best way of walking and moving around in general. Because most of the time I was on the floor playing, crawling, either on my hands and knees or snakelike on my belly, seemed a very accomplished way to get from one place to another. Pushing a toy car, making the screaming noise of a tyrannosaurus or scooting around on my slippery bum also appeared to help cover great expanses of the nursery as I skidded across the room.

 

When not working on his laptop Daddy came and played with me. He said he wanted to keep a record of my time with him and as I looked so adorable he started by measuring and weighing me before taking photographs with his phone. From different angles and no matter what I was doing I’d see Daddy capturing some of the ‘amazing’ things I was doing - he kept saying I was the best little boy in the world and we should have a record of my accomplishments.

 

We assembled all manner of buildings together and Lego became a colourful coliseum, a castle, a tower block and a garage where I kept my imaginary fleet of expensive limos, a launch pad – I wanted to take Daddy to visit the stars.  Playing and having fun was all that mattered and we only stopped for food and drink, whilst my thick diaper absorbed the occasion dribble from my little pee-pee.

 

By the time it was time to change my diaper was thick, full and immense. I’d played most of the day in such a state and it hadn’t worried me in the slightest.

 

What I was wearing, how I was wearing it had no bearing on me as long as I could play and Daddy was around for hugs - that was all that mattered.

 

It all felt hazy and nice. “I wuv my Dada.”

 

****

tbc

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Thanks for the encouragement 

 

Part 4

 

My ‘career’ had just come to an end. The employment start I had hoped to gain over my friends who had gone off to university looked like it had been a bad move and as I sucked on my paci I realised I had absolutely nothing to lose from accepting his proposition.

 

I nodded.

 

Mr Wojciechows, sorry, Daddy smiled and hugged me tightly to his chest before saying he had more people to see and that I should pull on my pants and go home.

 

Whilst he stroked my shiny, slippery padded bottom he added.

 

“As far as anyone else is concerned, you have been made redundant so no one else needs to know of our arrangement.”

 

I understood but a sudden thought hit me - why had he got that box of diapers and things already on his desk, was it in anticipation of this moment, was he so confident I’d agree to anything or, and this is what really bothered me, was it for someone else? Kevin maybe?

 

He saw me looking at the box as he sorted through a few of the babyish items it contained.

 

“I was going to take these back home,” he spoke quietly as if half to himself. “I’d had them here for ages but, what with all the recent activity… and you not looking like you were interested… I thought…”

 

“Erm, I wondered if they were for Kevin?” I mumbled, pretending it was an off-hand comment.

 

“Kevin?” He looked surprised, “Why Kevin?”

 

I had to get this off my chest so thought I’d just jump straight in with my theory.

 

“I saw him enter this office and not leave for ages, I wondered if you’d found somebody else...” As I saw the look on his face my voice trailed off awkwardly.

 

“He’s a bright boy but,” he looked like he was talking to a befuddled toddler, “he’d heard the rumours about lay-offs and wanted to know if he needed to find another job.”

 

“Does he?”

 

“Not really because his position is paid for by the government. We get a grant to employ young, sixteen year-old school leavers so in fact, for the next couple of years he has the most secure job in the company.”

 

I wished I’d been a sixteen year-old school leaver and didn’t have to worry but he continued.

 

“He was very thankful and surprisingly very emotional with relief so I let him settle his feelings before he went back out into the office.”

 

He looked at me struggling to get back into my pants, pulling the damn things over the bulky diaper and smiled an understanding smile.

 

“You thought he’d taken your place?”

 

Now I was just too embarrassed to speak so shrugged and eventually got my pants up and zipped.

 

“Charlie,”

 

I didn’t really want to look directly at him but he put his hand under my chin and guided me so we were eye-to-eye. His short, slightly greying hair and those piercing, yet friendly grey eyes gave the appearance of an adult trying to placate a distressed child.

 

“Charlie, it’s you I want but I don’t want you to feel trapped so, go home now and think about my offer.”

 

He passed me a card with his personal number.

 

“These past few weeks have been very stressful and if truth be known I could have done with you being around when I got home.”

 

He helped me to my feet.

 

“I suggest you collect your stuff and leave and, after you’ve had time to think, let me know if you accept my offer. I…”

 

“Yes.” I interrupted.

 

“Yes, what?” He looked quizzically at me.

 

“Yes I agree to be your personal assistant, your little boy, your… baby.”

 

A look of relief eased his face muscles.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes,” I replied as enthusiastically as I could. “Let’s start as soon as possible.”

 

“Ohhh Charlie.” And we hugged for what seemed ages before Miss Thorpe came on the intercom and told him his next appointment had arrived.

 

~

 

I talked everything over with my parents, well, not exactly everything but I let them know it was a big new opportunity for me and I was very excited about the project. I think I sold it pretty well and they didn’t seem too worried about the fact that it was a live-in position. It felt weird telling them all about my supposed ‘plans and ambitions’ whilst I fidgeted nervously around in the diaper I’d been told to wear all the time.

 

My outward enthusiasm was for their benefit because inwardly I still wasn’t completely sure. Having said that, I wasn’t focusing on that particular aspect as I assumed we would be having riotous sex on every available occasion and that was far more appealing than anything else.

 

I’d told mum and dad that for the first part of the job I was going to be away as we were spending a week or so touring the company’s building sites around the country to make assessments and develop new ideas. In truth it did sound very exciting and I wasn’t surprised that they were happy for me to ‘fulfil my destiny’. In fact, they were very encouraging and said they were incredibly proud of me, which made me feel a bit ashamed of the lie I was spinning and the diaper never seemed more appropriate because I felt like a naughty little kid.

 

~

 

It was 7pm when I arrived at the solid black and silver door of ‘Evergreen’.

 

Mr Wojciechowski, wearing jeans and a polo shirt greeted me with a huge smile. Up until then I’d only ever seen him dressed in a suit but this casual look made him appear so much younger, more attractive and my cock immediately sprung to attention.

 

I imagine I’m not the first teenager to be led by his dick into an area he doesn’t really understand but I was soon getting a taste of what was expected of me.

 

The sex I thought we’d immediately fall into just didn’t happen. He took me to the nursery, which I’d temporarily forgotten about, and told me this was my new ‘home’. I was pulling my case packed with my clothes behind me and he said I wouldn’t need anything; from now on he would decide and provide… everything.

 

~

 

Perhaps it was strange that I should have gotten so close to my boss but I’d never had any friends who I confided in as much as him as we drove between sites. Although throughout my school life I was likable, I was mainly very shy, I didn’t push myself; I didn’t make friends easily and kept myself to myself. So, starting work, finding someone who took an instant liking to me and one whose company I enjoyed had been a real thrill.

 

I still wasn’t sure how all this was going to work – with me acting like a baby. He’d tempted me so much with that first taste of sex, although I wondered how he knew I’d react to his sexual (if indeed it was sexual) advance. I know our trips out from work to the building sites had been fantastic. We’d chatted about everything - from when his family emigrated from Poland to my first day at school and all points in between. He was terrific company and so easy to speak with, even though he was so much older than me it never felt that way when there was just the two of us. We got on really well and I suppose I’d been giving off signals that I wasn’t aware of, though in truth, I loved it when he did make that move.

 

I wanted a boyfriend and right then and there, with his lips around my cock, he seemed the perfect choice. Even when he then put me in diapers I thought – OK, if this is what it takes – I know it should have seemed odd but it didn’t. Actually, that’s not true. When he put me in diapers I didn’t think about it, it just happened, it seemed like a done deal. I think it was only later, when I got home and was wearing what I was that I thought – if this is what it takes – I certainly didn’t want to lose his friendship.

 

You might think I was being a bit desperate but with the few old school friends I had away at university I was spending a lot of my time on my own. I mean it wasn’t like I was abandoning all my mates because, well, they just weren’t around anymore. My parents were great and supportive as always but I think I was in desperate need of something physical.

 

~

 

He guided me past the large crib, past piles of toys, past the large TV screen, past the closets and draws full of I don’t know what and said that he was looking forward to our first night together. So was I.

 

I could feel my aching cock trapped behind the diaper folds and couldn’t wait to feel his lips caressing it once again. Perhaps, I wondered, might I be expected to service him? I hadn’t seen his cock so had no idea what I’d signed up for and suddenly got a bit frightened of the thought he might be massive. I was relatively still a virgin so how was I going to cope? I decided I’d learn quickly as I was sure that Mr Wojciechowski, sorry, Daddy, would want to know my abilities fairly soon. Alas, he just guided me to the large bathroom off from the nursey and asked me to strip.

 

My mind was wandering if we might be taking a shower together, or a bubble bath, either might be fun, so I eagerly began to remove my clothes. He ran the bath and indeed filled it with loads of bubbles. Once I was down to the disposable and the pink plastic pants he’d told me to wear he asked me to stop. He ran his hands over the smooth, shiny bulk and again told me how damn cute I was and how much I suited wearing a diaper.  

 

His words were soft and persuasive and wrapped themselves around me like a comforting blanket. I was enjoying the attention and the compliments. His touch was electrifying and I trembled, almost ecstatically, as his assurances and caresses sent sensation after sensation through my body. I closed my eyes and let myself drift in the miasma the steamy bathroom, his gentle touch and his soothing words played with the total experience of my well-being.

 

~

 

Back in the office Mr Wojciechowski had always been the quietly spoken boss. I remember when we first started going to the sites together how everyone he talked to listened rapped and attentive to what he had to say. I couldn’t remember him ever having to raise his voice and now, as he was about to bathe me, his seductive voice dripped like a soothing molasses over my thoughts. It was the same on that first time I came back to this place and he told me he liked me. Each admiring comment made me shudder with delight and made me desperate to please this man.

 

So caught up in my revelry I missed some of the things he was saying - each touch delivering jolt after jolt of pleasure to my brain and I was consumed in the moment. He’d asked me something but I just moaned my approval/consent as another ripple of electricity tingled through my nervous system.

 

Oh God, I was euphoric.

 

Again, it was like it was happening on another plane altogether because I sensed him gently peel down my plastic pants, followed by a leisurely release from my surprisingly wet diaper. He guided me into the bath and, as I stood, trance-like to his touch, he slipped on a plastic apron and slowly began soaping my entire body. Lotions and potions were smoothed everywhere, never before had I been so thoroughly cleansed, and I loved it. He clipped my hair and the thrill of the scissors, and his plastic apron, occasionally making subtle contact with my skin sent me off into further spasms of delight.

 

He then lay me down amidst all the bubbles and sponged away the soothing and rejuvenating lotions. My cock had been rock hard from the moment I’d entered his home, our home, but he was letting me enjoy the long and achingly hot wait for orgasm.

 

~

 

When sure that my entire body had been completely scrubbed by his roving sponge I was helped from the bath and laid on a huge towel. Once dry he administered more soothing creams and unguents mainly around my bottom and groin. His occasional playful flick of my still throbbing cock was met by a tremor of pleasure. As the beautifying balms where palmed into my pubic area, I hardly noticed that my hair, all my body hair, had now disappeared. I was strangely smooth, and although I thought it weird, at the same time it felt wonderful.

 

I was in the safekeeping of a consummate artist, a man who knew what he wanted and was quite happy to take his time in getting it just right. I felt extremely peaceful in his hands and at that moment he could have done anything he wanted and I would have agreed. Now I was how he wanted me, naked and hair-free, I was hopeful that at last he’d take me in his mouth, or in hand, and work my throbbing, leaking dick to a final conclusion. Instead he powdered and slipped a thick fabric diaper under my bum.

 

I wanted to complain and demand that he play with my cock but he started tickling my tummy, playing with my toes and making me giggle so much I couldn’t get the words out. The diaper, with more padding than I’d encountered before was pulled together and pinned into place trapping my cock behind its thick cotton embrace. I wanted to scream “No not yet” but he slotted a blue paci between my lips and waited until I started to suck. A pair of enormous see-thru plastic pants was then pulled up, which captured and held everything in place and almost magically I relaxed and let ‘Daddy’ completely take charge.

 

****

tbc

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Part 3

 

The office maintained its heightened state as we continued to work nonstop; compiling, checking and re-checking plans, permits, building supplies, inventories, pay, bills, government licenses, authorizations… in fact everything. It looked like the firm was being audited for some reason as we had to find data going back many years. It was intense and hectic but, now I wasn’t wearing a diaper under my suit, I was more comfortable and able to concentrate. Having said that, I did miss that liberating moment I’d experienced in being able to take a leak without leaving my desk.

 

A rumour also circulated that all this extra work would eventually lead to some dismissals. Nobody knew exactly where the cuts would be made or to which department but the general atmosphere of pending doom made sure we all worked hard, kept are heads down and tried to make ourselves as indispensable as possible.

 

The other two bosses had gone off to inspect various sites where we had building developments and Mr Wojciechowski stayed behind to work in the main office. I’d stopped reporting to be inspected and I tried to ignore him when he passed my desk. A couple of times he’d stop to request something and actually looked hurt when I was officious but distant. I was still selfishly frustrated about his apparent lack of appreciation for what I’d done to try and please him and not being there when I thought he should show his support. At one point when he came to request a file, he slipped his hand under the desk and gave me a surreptitious squeeze. He looked most disappointed that I was no longer padded.

 

~

 

Over the next few days, as we got on top of the emergency, things began to calm down a little. I was still a little depressed about any lack of attention from ‘daddy’ and couldn’t help still feeling a little hard done by. I mean, I didn’t want to wear a diaper of course but, the fact that at his request I had been doing so I expected a bit more effort from him. I think all my thoughts were completely driven by my desire for sex and I couldn’t see past the fact that my craving wasn’t progressing at all. Now that my sexuality had been teased, and gratefully so, I couldn’t get the thought of more out of my mind, no matter what trials or tribulations were going on around me.

 

Mr Wojciechowski left me alone but we still exchanged the usual pleasantries (he still had his work to do and so did I) but now he seemed to be showing the young mail boy favouritism like previously he had done to me.  I watched as the boy, Kevin, went in to collect the mail from his office and didn’t come out for over 15 minutes, when he did he looked flushed, ruffled and rather pleased with himself.

 

Kevin is a good looking lad and I quite liked him but at that moment I could have happily strangled him. A strange sensation filled my body… then everything drained away leaving a feeling of being lost and sorry for myself. In truth, I was jealous. I know it doesn’t make sense but I was and didn’t like my place being taken by someone else, I needed to get back into the boss’s good books. Even though I hadn’t worn a diaper to the office for a few days I didn’t want to lose what I thought we had, so I made a decision; I snapped out of my self-pitying depression and began to be my usual sparkling, friendly self.

 

The following day I arrived in the office wearing my ‘uniform’. I deliberately made sure that Mr Wojciechowski knew I was back padded and covered in baby powder and hoped he understood I wanted another chance.

~

 

Later that morning, Mr Bronowski, one of the other bosses made an announcement that: ‘Unfortunately, owing to government budget cuts, there would be cutbacks right across the company’s entire workforce’. Of course this didn’t come as a complete shock but nonetheless, there were a lot of very nervous people around, including me.

 

Individuals were called into Mr B’s office and told of their redundancy packages. Some of the older members of staff came out of it quite well but others didn’t. There was a general opinion that ‘last in, first out’ would be the rule and that scared me as I was one of the last people to be employed. Other’s around me were called in and I wriggled uncomfortably, and very uncertainly, in my thick diaper wishing it was Mr Wojciechowski who was dismissing people and not Mr Grumpy (as Mr B was known) who appeared to be dealing with it.

 

The anticipation was terrible, we all sat at our desks anxiously wondering if we’d be called through next and the worry was getting to me more than I expected. In fact, I began to think I was definitely for the sack as, despite me wearing at that moment, I’d rejected Mr Wojciechowski diaper regime and he’d found the mail boy to play with.

 

As I sat there I felt pee filling my diaper. I don’t know why I suddenly started to wet myself but found myself doing so right in front of the entire office. I’m sure no one else was aware, or at least I didn’t think anyone else would know, although my fidgeting around as I got used to the warm wetness that surrounded my cock might have been a bit of a giveaway.

 

It felt strange to have involuntarily pissed myself yet the warm sensation in my diaper was offering me comfort - now how the hell does that happen? I could be fired at any moment, the threat of which I suppose had caused the flow, yet having done so I was now totally calm – it just didn’t make sense. Suddenly, my desk phone rang and it was Mr Wojciechowski calling me into his office… my calmness evaporated.

 

~

 

I didn’t have to negotiate Miss Thorpe so knocked, the voice from the other side of the door said ‘Enter’ so I hesitantly let myself in. Mr Wojciechowski was sitting behind his desk, which had a huge pile of papers and folders covering it, there was also other packages that I didn’t recognise.

 

“Good afternoon Charlie.”

 

“Good afternoon… sir,”

 

I wasn’t sure of anything at that moment and didn’t dare call him ‘boss’ or ‘daddy’ or even by his name Mr Wojciechowski. I was wet and anxious and for the first time ever, stood in front of him and felt like a little lost kid. A shiver of dread flowed through me and I didn’t dare look him in the eye. I knew, well I thought I knew, that I was about to be fired and all my hopes and dreams were crushed as I stood there trembling.

 

Because of the rumour I’d had time to think about what I’d do if I lost this position. The job’s market was at an all-time low and with my lack of a degree or any other real form of qualification realised my chances of getting another was probably negligible.

 

He stood up and walked over to where I was standing with my eyes downcast and put his hands on my shoulders.

 

“I’m sorry Charlie, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.”

 

~

 

So far I was the youngest in the office to get fired and I didn’t know what to say. Although I partly expected it I was distraught when it came to it. I could feel the emotion building, tears welling up and although I didn’t want to cry in front of the boss, I was having a hard time containing them. I swallowed hard and tried to stop myself but I’m afraid the moment was just too overwhelming and I felt my face crease and I started bawling like a kid.

 

“I’m really sorry Charlie, we tried to keep redundancies to a minimum but I’m afraid…”

 

My tears had got to him and he hugged me, which wasn’t something I was expecting. He held me tightly and gently tried to soothe away my obvious distress. His hand patted my back and eventually found its way to my cushioned bottom where it stayed and he gently stroked the soft padding. There was a slight crinkle and once he realised I was wearing his uniform he held me even more tightly.

 

“Ohhh Charlie,” he whispered and kissed my head.

 

Despite my obvious misery his hand kept checking my diaper and eventually asked if I was wet. I nodded and he guided me into his private bathroom off from his office. Once there he unzipped my pants and let them fall to the floor then had me to step out of them. He tossed them aside. I had no idea why I was going along with this but I was so shaky and confused I wasn’t really aware of anything at that moment.

 

He saw the pink plastic pants and eased them down and over the heavy soggy diaper which hung limply to my hips. He spread a towel out on the floor and helped me down onto it. My body was still heaving under the effort of trying to keep my tears under control, at which I was failing; my mind and body were numb.  He then disappeared into the other part of his office for a few seconds before returning armed with the box of stuff I’d seen on his desk.

 

~

 

First thing he did was attempt to pop a pacifier in my mouth but I turned my head in an effort to refuse it.

 

“Charlie,” I shook my head and firmed up my mouth. “Charlie, suck on this now… it will make things seem an awful lot better.”

 

My eyes were stinging from all the tears and as I opened my mouth to object he simply slipped it in and held it there until I’d started sucking. I didn’t feel able to resist. I may well have been a healthy eighteen year-old but at that moment I had no strength to fight against my predicament. For some reason I just wanted to be hugged, I wanted his tender touch, I wanted nothing more than to be safe and protected. I was powerless, useless and had absolutely no prospects - I didn’t want to but somehow the act of suckling on a nipple did make me less stressed.

 

Once he saw me relax he un-taped and slipped off my soaked diaper, wiped me dry, cleaned me up and powdered me in a shower of talc. For a few moments I just didn’t feel it was happening to me, it was a sort of out-of-body experience, like I was looking down on myself. However, Mr Wojciechowski was gentle, caring and thorough. He seemed to take an age making sure everything was just right before he slipped a thick fabric diaper under my butt, added a couple of pads and easily pinned it into place. This was far more bulky than anything I’d worn so far but I couldn’t get over just how comfortable I felt in his capable hands and being so lovingly attended to … even though I’d just been fired.

 

My discarded suit trousers were in a heap in the corner, whilst the soaked disposable and pink frilly plastic pants were just a couple of feet away but despite that I felt so much better now I was snug and dry so I  really didn’t care. As he affectionately ran his hand over the bulk he’d created the cosiness this new diaper offered was pleasantly bizarre - my body relaxed and a state of acceptance filled my body. Once satisfied with his work he then slipped a pair of clear plastic pants over it all, tucking any bits of the diaper behind it, sealing me in. The final touch took me by surprise as he slowly bent in, rubbed the front of the slippery bulky package, whilst kissing my forehead.  

 

Almost sorrowfully he said, “What am I going to do with you?” and then sighed.

 

~

 

Laid out on the towel in a thick diaper, plastic pants and sucking on a paci I wasn’t able to answer. I had no job, no prospects and yet, weirdly, the problem I now had was that I liked this position. I was in no hurry to move even though I knew someone could come in at any moment. I had nothing to do and nothing to worry about, all I did was lay there wearing a huge diaper completely at ease.

 

Mr Wojciechowski seemed to make some kind of decision.

 

“Charlie, my offer stands.” He looked me straight in the eye. “I would love it if you would let me look after you.”

 

Dressed as I was and sucking on a paci I didn’t really know how to respond. To me it was like I’d already accepted that role, except, I was now no longer employed by the company.

 

“Of course…” he paused to think for a moment, “you would move to a more permanent arrangement at my home… a sort of… live in position.”

 

I lay there not knowing what to think. My parents wouldn’t be too happy about me becoming a baby for anyone and besides, did I want to be a baby for him? Did I want a job, no matter what that job entailed?

 

Mr Wojciechowski was thinking out loud. “We could say that, as the firm tightened its belt and you were made,” he shrugged his shoulders as if in apology, “redundant… an opportunity arose on a new project.”

 

His mind was working overtime now. “In fact, why say anything about being laid off… why not just say that an opportunity came up that was too good to miss to be my personal assistant?”

 

I’d already mentioned to my parents that I was working on a new project with him so this would actually fit in pretty well with what they already knew. If they thought I was climbing some kind of corporate ladder I’m sure they would be all in favour of it. I didn’t need to tell them about what it actually entailed.

 

I wriggled contentedly on the floor and sucked manically on the paci. The thick protection offering nothing but wonderful security as I thought about how only a few moments ago I was without a job and now, all I had to do was wear a diaper and I’d have a new one. I didn’t even think about the consequences because the smile that spread over Mr Wojciechowski face appeared to say it all. A lifeline had been tossed to me and a solution had been found that would keep me on a payroll and keep me close to my sexy boss.

 

“What do you think” he beamed, “is it a position you can live with?”

 

****

tbc

[Max's Christmas Wish (Finished 12/19)]

Excellent seasonal fare 

Thank you

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

Part 2

 

I checked the canvas bag apprehensively: It contained a pack of disposables, a pack of super absorbent pads, a canister of baby powder and two pairs of plastic pants; one pink and frilly, the other see-thru and noisy.

 

I shook my head in disbelief… my ‘uniform’?

 

When did he envisage me wearing this I wondered and hoped he didn’t expect me to turn up to the office dressed only in what I’d spread out on my duvet. Mum was calling me down for dinner so I quickly slipped out of my diaper and into a pair of joggers then bundled the lot under my bed and thought I’d sort it out later.

 

~

 

Later, when I went to bed, all I could think about was SEX.

 

Yes, I’m afraid my mind raced and replayed over and over again what had happened and, as I relived every action and reaction, my body replied with copious amounts of sticky fluid that flowed from my cock like a broken faucet. My PJs were a mess and I should have worn the diaper that Mr Wojciechowski had put me in; it would have saved all the washing that now needed doing. Eventually I fell asleep drained and messy but thrilled about this new, no-longer-a-virgin, version of me. Weirdly, and perhaps under the circumstances stupidly, I felt I had made some kind of step into adulthood and I was quite pleased with myself.

 

The following morning, after I’d showered, I got dressed and unthinking just slipped into a pair of briefs. I was about to put on my work suit when I suddenly remembered I had an obligation and I thought - what if he checks me in the office? For some reason I didn’t want to disappoint him or put my new ‘relationship’ in jeopardy.

 

I’d spent the night excited whilst thinking things over and had come to the conclusion that this might be a bit of an adventure. I was convinced it was really a sexual adventure and one I was OK with, even if it resulted with him making me wear something I wasn’t sure about. I’d also come to the conclusion, no matter how obliquely, I was now his boyfriend, although the diaper stuff I’d convinced myself was just a passing fancy of his and I could change all that with time. However, I slipped off my briefs, retrieved the pack of disposables and then noticed the note taped to the side of the pack.

 

Daily Instruction

Wash and apply plenty of baby powder

One disposable, two pads and your choice of plastic pants.

Inspection in my office at 10am sharp.

Penalties for not complying.

 

I was relieved I’d seen this in time and hadn’t thought to do my own thing. I’d committed, albeit reluctantly, to do as he requested so here was the proof he wanted me to acquiesce to his ‘babying’ demands… I thought I could cope… after all… I had my career to think about… didn’t I?

 

I taped myself in and once again thought how ungainly the feeling was. The see-thru plastic pants were incredibly crinkly and made a lot of noise so I opted for the more malleable, if slightly sissy, frilly pink pair. Although fairly confident, I didn’t dare fail at my first inspection so complied completely with what I’d been instructed to wear. Cramming in the two pads made the entire thing quite unwieldly but once held in pace by the plastic pants I hoped it wouldn’t be too visible. I wore a looser fitting suit that I hoped would hide most of that extra padding but it didn’t stop me feeling the bulk between my legs with each step. It was awkward and I had to slightly change the way I walked but at least the loud crinkle wasn’t there, just a soft rustle as I moved.

 

I hadn’t seen Mr Wojciechowski but still presented myself at his office at 10am and mentioned to his secretary, Miss Thorpe, he’d said the day before he wanted to see me. She replied it would have to wait as he was in a meeting but was there anything she could do to help. I gulped at the notion of her carrying out the inspection and how embarrassing that would be but, there again, I didn’t know what, if anything, she knew about her boss’s little peccadillos, though thought better than to say anything.

~

 

He didn’t return in the afternoon and I hated the fact that my diaper was bunching up and making me feel quite uncomfortable. One or two of the guys I worked with mentioned the fact that I was wriggling in my seat and smelled of talcum powder - they were of the opinion I must have contracted some deadly, infectious itch from a girlfriend. I knew they were only kidding but I suddenly thought that they assumed I was straight. I smiled knowingly and raised my eyebrows as if to say “Don’t you know it?” and hoped this would deflect any thoughts about my relationship with the boss.

 

For the next couple of days I still wondered up to his door 10am wearing what I’d been instructed to wear but each time was told he was out. I began to get a bit moody around the office but couldn’t tell anyone why. A little resentment quickly slipped into my thinking. I was angry because I was keeping my uncomfortable side of the bargain and he wasn’t. In retrospect, he hadn’t… well… he was the boss and I would have to wait on his availability, I was in no position to rush him… but still? I was also in denial about what had happened. Well, perhaps not denial but the lack of him being around and any continuation of physical contact I found frustrating even though my padded arse, and surprisingly regular stiff cock, were permanent reminders as to what exactly had taken place… it played on my mind so my office work suffered.

 

I got a warning from my manager to buck my ideas up and when Mr Wojciechowski did return to the office I partly dreaded him asking me to go on another site inspection. However, businesswise, I could see there was something drastic going on as the entire place was working hard to meet some sudden targets, so intense was the workload we hardly got time to chat or have breaks.

~

 

On the third day I arrived at his office at ten and he was there. I’m not sure if it was relief or dread but I was desperate to prove I’d done all he requested. As I entered his room he smiled.

 

“Mmmmmmmm, the smell of baby powder... my favourite.” He whispered sort of conspiratorially.

 

He invited me over to the side of his desk then ran his hand down the front of my trousers; the bulky outline of the diaper seemed more pronounced under his inspection. Next he stroked my bum, felt the padding, smiled and told me what a “good obedient baby” I was. He then enquired if I was using them properly. I wasn’t sure what he meant but he saw my confusion and elaborated.

 

“The next time I want you wet.”

 

I was startled at this new demand.

 

“I want to know you are using them for what they are intended for, I want my little boy to be happy about wetting his diaper and that daddy will take care of everything.”

 

Daddy? This was the first time the word drew my attention but the main point was I couldn’t believe he wanted me to use the damn diaper; after all it wasn’t hygienic… was it?

 

“Are you wearing them all the time?” He smiled hopefully.

 

“Er, travelling to and from work and while I’m here… I…”

 

“Do you wear them to bed?” His voice turned more serious.

 

“Er, no, I, er,”

 

“You need to wear them for everything, all the time. I want to know my boy is well protected.” He said with fatherly concern.

 

The problem I now had was that I wanted something more. I wanted the sex I’d experienced to happen on a daily basis. Just thinking about it was leaving the diaper slick with pre-cum. I wanted him to do things to me that at the moment I could only wonder about. I wanted his firm, older, more seasoned and well-maintained body doing things to me that I’d read about online. I wanted hard, uncontrolled SEX!

 

“But, but…”

 

Before I had chance to complain, explain or say anything his phone rang and I was dismissed.

 

As I was about to close the door behind me he ordered “Wet! Come and see me again at two and you need to be wet.”

 

And that was the end of any discussion.

 

I really didn’t like the idea of wetting myself. What if it was obvious? What if I leaked in to my pants? What if… well there seemed to be quite a few reasons not to but he said I had to and he was my boss… my ‘Daddy’?

 

~

 

Later I locked myself in the cubicle and dropped my trousers; the cumbersome diaper looked huge now it was without any covering except the pink plastic panties. In the scant privacy the stall offered I hoped I could force myself to pee and the only positive I could see was it would mean that at least I could check for any ‘problems’. I pulled down the plastic protection and examined the diaper more carefully - my hand slowly sliding around the soft silky material, poking the tapes and leg-holes to make sure everything was tightly held in place.

 

Even though I was desperate to piss I just couldn’t make myself go. My plastic pants were around my ankles so I tried to rub and encourage my cock to respond through the thick white fabric. I could hardly feel it but strangely enough, the padding looked solid enough to take any amount of pee and as I stroked the sexless, bulging front I felt myself relax for the very first time. Unexpectedly I felt a spurt. I was shocked, especially as it was followed by a full flow, which I desperately wanted to stop but couldn’t.

 

A minute later with my diaper full I couldn’t believe the warming influence my pissy protection was giving. It felt snug, it felt comforting but I was worried it might overflow because I’d pissed so much. I swiftly pulled up my plastic pants - the tight cuffs around my waist and legs made me feel leak-proof. I waited a couple more minutes to make sure I couldn’t feel any trickles and all seemed well contained.

 

I returned to my desk wondering if anyone could tell what I’d just done in my pants. Although I felt guilty I was also giggling to myself at doing such a babyish thing and being in a public place wearing a soaked diaper. However, the computer screen was flashing an urgent memo and I had to get back to work.

 

~

 

Perhaps strangely, now my diaper was full and it had soaked up so much liquid, it didn’t feel quite as uncomfortable to wear.  There was definitely a change in the overall character that was now resting wetly in my pants but one I surprisingly liked. I wasn’t sure if I should but it felt fantastic and I began to wriggle contentedly in my seat.

 

At two I knocked on Mr Wojciechowski door. Miss Thorpe was still out at a late lunch so I didn’t have to deal with anyone else. I stood in front of him and he slipped his hand down the back of my trousers. Access wasn’t easy so he told me to drop them; I did as I was told. The thick drooping diaper had expanded to quite a size and the pink plastic pants had grown with it. With my trousers around my ankles my shirt hardly covered the soggy mass between my legs and I trembled under his inspection.

 

“Good boy.” He said, sliding his hands in appreciation over the frills of my sissy plastic pants. He patted my wet padded bottom as if determining the bulk.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

He spoke quietly as he set about checking the soaked pads, opening then refastening the tapes. Even though I felt silly standing there with my trousers down I had to nod and say I was OK.

 

“Good, good. Pull up your pants and go back to your desk.”

 

He saw me hesitate.

 

“Stay behind after work and I’ll change you then. In the meantime, I’m sure there is plenty more absorbency left, so don’t worry, pee all you want.”

 

He smiled and I could hear the return of Miss Thorpe talking to someone outside the office. I quickly dragged up my pants and fastened them as efficiently as I could before picking up a folder, thanking him loudly and excusing myself.

 

His secretary gave me a questioning look as I exited but I think I was reasonably clothed so hoped not to arouse any suspicions.

 

~

 

When I got back to my desk I noticed that the workload there had increased proportionately to the size of my diaper… it was heavy. I needn’t have worried about anyone else noting my bulging trousers as we were all so inundated with new targets and special reports we hardly had time to grab a cup of coffee. In fact, the two other bosses were supervising the office, which made for a very intense atmosphere, and I don’t think anyone looked up from what they were engaged in.

 

I have a confession: I sat at my desk and peed twice more into my soaked diaper and although there wasn’t gallons of the stuff I quite liked the sensation. The naughtiness of just doing it and no one else being any the wiser gave me a strange feeling of, superiority. No that’s the wrong word, satisfaction, yes that’s better, the satisfaction of not having to rush to the toilet. I was no longer a slave to my expanding bladder.

 

Eventually it was home time and I grabbed a folder and reported to Miss Thorpe who was putting on her coat.

 

“Just leave it on my desk,” she said nodding towards her pristine, clear and tidy work area. She checked her watch, “Mr Wojciechowski will now not be back until tomorrow.”

 

I felt stupid, uncomfortable and annoyed. I gave no thought to the fact that the business was at ‘high alert’ and obviously something major was happening. I just thought about my soggy diaper and that I’d now have to wear it on the bus home. It was bad enough wearing a clean one but now, well, I was frustrated and angry with developments. The satisfaction I had about it only minutes earlier was now gone and I mumbled under my breath my dissatisfaction. Miss Thorpe held the door open for me as I collected my coat then she locked up as we left. I ambled off to the bus stop and she disappeared towards the car park.

 

It had been promising it all day and eventually the heavens opened up and a huge deluge seemed to be mocking my wet and soggy diaper as I waited in the bus queue. In retrospect I know I should have chuckled at the stupidity of my situation and laughed off my soaked groin but at the time I was livid with the entire thing.

 

Why should I wear a diaper?

Why should I do what he wanted?

Was he just out to make a fool of me?

Was the sex that good to go through all this?

Did I really want to be someone’s little baby?

 

As I trudged/waddled the last few hundred yards to my house, soaked and indignant, I thought I’d had enough and without doubt… that would be the last time I wore a diaper for anyone.

 

***

tbc

[How I became an Executive Toy Parts 1-9 (end)]

How I became an Executive Toy

 

Part 1

 

Hi, I’m Charlie - six months ago I left school and got a job as an office junior in a large building firm. It’s not a very demanding job but they told me that the prospects were good if I had any aptitude. The office is relaxed but everyone dresses rather smartly, no jeans or t-shirts, and most of the guys wear a suit so I do too. I’m always clean, neat and tidy (mum sees to that) and I hope to do well in this my first ever job.

 

I’m 18, slim, 5’6”, OK looking, always polite (again mum’s doing) and very easy to get along with and often don’t need things explaining twice before I can do what is asked of me. Academically I was lazy, and although did OK in my exams, the thought of university life and more schooling just wasn’t me. I wanted to get work and perhaps have three or four years on my peers before they eventually found themselves on the jobs market.

~

They appear to like me in the office and I’ve become fairly popular with my work colleagues. Almost immediately one of the company directors, Mr Wojciechowski, was very friendly and encouraging towards my ambitions - taking me out on the occasional site inspection with him; as he thought that would give me more of an overall view of what the business was about. He’s witty and you can share a joke with him, when he’s around the entire office a nicer place to work. Not like the other two bosses who are also Polish but in all honesty, scare the shit out of me… very officious and demanding.

 

When we went out to the sites together, and it was at least once a week that I accompanied him on a trip, it all seemed so exciting. At my age, and in my first job, I loved the attention and the encouragement he gave, making me feel special and that I could really go places with the firm. He said he liked the way I said “Yes Boss” when he first asked me to do something for him – I think it was to retrieve a file on the computer system. Embarrassingly, I couldn’t remember his name so I meant to say “Yes Sir.” but it came out as “Yes Boss”, apparently I blushed a bright red at my faux pas. It made him smile.

~

One evening, about 2 months ago, when we were returning to base, he said he had to call home first as he’d forgotten some papers. His house on the outskirts of town is terrific; in its own grounds, very expensive, well decorated and I was pretty impressed. He asked if I wanted anything to drink and, looking at the selection of booze set out on a cabinet, felt like he was treating me as an adult and not as one of the office juniors. He disappeared into another room, which I assumed was to get the papers he needed and after a couple of minutes called for me to go through. I went to help and was surprised to see him standing surrounded by loads of baby paraphernalia - it was like a really well equipped and maintained nursery. Colourful walls with cartoon characters, a crib, toys and piles of clothes and diapers, it appeared to have everything but I had no idea why.

 

The boss was smiling at this revelation and asked me what I thought. I didn’t know what to think. I was a bit shocked but, as I had no idea how to react I sort of mumbled some sort of approval though I have no idea why. His eyes lit up with what seemed genuine happiness.

 

“Glad you like it,” he shrugged his shoulders a little relieved, “it’s one of my… things, you know, to help me relax when I get a bit… stressed.”

 

I’m sure many high-powered businessmen get stressed with their jobs and I suppose they all need an outlet, although I always assumed it was booze or recreational sex and drugs, but hey, what do I know? What I wasn’t sure about was why he was confiding this ‘secret’ part of his life to me.

 

“Er.… it’s all very… er… nice and all but,” I wasn’t sure if I dare ask, “why are you showing it to me?”

 

“Well my dear Charlie, you are one of the few good-looking youngsters in our firm and, if you haven’t noticed, I like you a lot.”

~

I was stunned yet pleased at the same time and took in the fact that even though he was in his late 40s he had a very young out-look. The detour to his place was just an excuse to get me alone but when he pulled me against his strong body and told me how good-looking he thought I was, in truth, I was anxious… although mainly flattered by his attention.

 

I’m 18 and have known since before I was a teenager I’m gay but had never acted on my feelings. However, just about any guy looking at me, or me looking at them, gives me an instant hard-on so, with his masculine firm hands touching me, that’s just what happened. He’s not the greatest looking guy, although for his age I suppose he’s OK, but he is very manly and quite an imposing figure… and more importantly, he’s my boss.

 

Now I know my reaction should have been to throw a hissy-fit or storm out but I was dumb-struck as he slipped his hand into my waistband. He flicked the button loose on my trousers, unaided the zip peeled away and they fell to the floor. Although I was shocked, the feelings he was generating in my groin were incredible and I loved it so, when he dragged everything off, including my shoes and socks, I was more excited by the fabulous sensations than alarmed.

 

“God, you are such a pretty… boy.” He breathed with such passion it sent a shiver down my spine.

 

I was taken aback by this. In fact, I was pretty sure I was about to be raped and I didn’t know what to do. The problem was my cock was rampant, and although I was extremely uneasy, I was shaking in thrilled anticipation. This was it, this was the moment, this was when I was no longer going to be a virgin. I was scared.

~

“Do you know just how fucking cute you are?” He whispered in my ear.

 

I wasn’t sure if he expected an answer but in truth I just lay there like a petrified rabbit caught in headlights.

 

He licked my earlobe and then his warm tongue gently intruded deeper. I didn’t know my ear was so damn sensitive and I giggled and squirmed under his gentle touch.

 

“Oh my God… look at you… you are a picture. Sweet, innocent…” He raised his eyebrows perhaps wondering just how innocent I was, “fuck me I want you as my little baby, my little chicken, my little… toy.”

 

I wasn’t sure what he was getting at but he looked me deep in the eye and asked if I’d like to be his ‘Executive Toy’.

 

My brain could come up with no thought of what that might entail so I nervously asked him what that meant. He replied that I just had to be around when he needed some executive relief.

 

“You mean… er… to…”  I was naked and looking into the eyes of a man who thinks I’m adorable but I needed to make sure I knew exactly what it was he wanted from me, “to be your… er… boyfriend?”

 

He smiled a strange smile that I hadn’t seen before and slightly shook his head.

 

“Mmmm, maybe but,” he rubbed my naked belly, “I need someone to join me in the nursery and you would be ideal.”

~

I think he could see the total lack of understanding in my eyes, although the stroking of my tummy was having some effect, he expanded on what he thought.

 

“You look so sweet and, with a slight change of hairstyle and, well, other little changes, I think you would be a wonderful playmate.”

 

He changed from rubbing my belly to softly manipulating my rock hard dick.

 

“I get my relaxation from looking after… a baby. Changing him, playing with him, teaching him stuff, reading stories… generally doing… what a daddy should do.”

 

My mind wasn’t really listening because I was swallowed up by the sensations flowing from my balls along my throbbing shaft.

 

“You would be my surrogate baby and I’d look after you,” he looked down at me and I closed my eyes as my orgasm approached; his fingers working the nerves in my bell-end so I could no longer control myself.

 

 “You would become my pretty infant son at weekends and, well, whenever I need you to be a sweet, defenceless, innocent baby.”

 

He stopped his long slow massage.

 

“What do you think? Is it something you might like to… experience?”

~

At that moment I was on the verge of coming and desperately needed him to continue. In my longing I would have agreed anything if only he’d finish me off. He was waiting for a response and, with my dick in his hand I knew there was only one answer I could have given.

 

My heart was pounding with desire. I knew I was agreeing to something but wasn’t that aware of what it was. However, a shiver of craving and a desperate need to come led my thoughts.

 

“Yes.” I breathed. “Anything.”

 

My desire for that orgasm had consumed every other sensible feeling in my body. I just needed to come and with this man holding my cock I was his puppet as he softly stroked it.

 

He smiled and bent down and kissed the tip of my leaking penis.

 

“You’re such a good boy.”

 

His tongue lapped across my piss slit and I could feel my balls bubbling. I was shaking with pure unadulterated lust. This was my first sexual experience with another person, with another man, and I was caught up in the sheer sexy moment. Every nerve in my body was tingling in anticipation and I desperately wanted to drag this hulk of a man on top of me and explode.

 

I wriggled and panted breathlessly as he took a firm hold of my cock. His hot moist mouth covered it and in a couple of smooth silky motions up and down its shaft I did just that. My naked body arched, a mixture of intense sensations gripped every fibre as I shot stream after stream down his throat, his tongue tickling and enticing the nerves at its end, engraving the moment in my mind forever.  

~

After I came, there was no pretending; I was in shock, feeling guilty, possibly ashamed and wondering what had just happened and why?

 

What had I done? What signals had I sent out and… my mind was trying to deal with it all. He was smiling and full of praise for me, telling me what a sweet, clever baby I was.

 

Once he’d finished with the praise I think he noticed my shocked and hurt look but he just told me I could go far in the company… if I kept my mouth shut… and my mind open. I also realised that I was now the guardian of a secret but one I had no power to use. I was an office junior and he was the boss, who on Earth would believe me if I told anyone what had happened?

~

My exposed young body was wreathed in sweat and my post-orgasm thoughts were now of embarrassment and shame. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do next so I lay there and let him make the decisions. Despite being unable to look him in the eye I could tell he was a very happy man.

 

“Well done little fella.” He ruffled my hair. “I think you’ll be an ideal playmate but,” he looked at his watch, “it’s time to get you back.”

 

I tried to raise myself up but he just told me to lie still and he’d see to everything. He went around the room collecting various containers and bits and bobs of other things before returning to my visibly shaking naked body.

 

First he used a very soft towel to wipe away all the sweat, followed by some wet wipes that were cool and smelled of menthol. The icy wipe was quite effective as he paid particular attention to my cock and I began to get hard again. He smiled but just shook his head as if to say that the fun was over for the day.

 

He spread lotion around and sprinkled powder before slipping a soft, plastic disposable under my bottom. I wanted to complain. I wasn’t a baby and I wasn’t up for this type of embarrassment but before these thoughts had formed in my head and able to speak, he already had me secured. He held up a couple of pairs of plastic pants wondering which would suit me best. I was still too stunned to pass a comment as he slipped a thick crinkly white pair up and over the bulky diaper.

 

He helped me to my feet. “There,” he said with some pride, “the beginning of… of a new life for us both.”

~

He stood admiring his work for a few seconds.

 

“That’s how I always want to see you dressed.”

 

He picked up my clothes and gave me my shirt and trousers to put back on - my underwear was nowhere to be seen.

 

The loud crinkle from the plastic pants I found unnerving as I pulled my trousers over the thick padding. I could hardly get the zip or button to fasten as I struggled to get them to fit. In the end I had to give up and leave them open as I pulled on my shirt and jacket, socks and shoes.

 

He drove me home and apart from saying that I was to wear a diaper to work in future nothing much else was said. It felt really strange having such a thing between my legs and I was wriggling around in his car seat trying to get comfortable. He was all smiles when he said that I’d get used to it but my mind was now wondering just what I’d got myself into.

 

Mr Wojciechowski seemed very happy and in truth, despite the diaper, I’d enjoyed what we’d done. It was intense and because my first time had been with someone more experienced, it was brilliant. I was still shaking, that’s how good it was. However, now we’d shared such an event I was sure, once he got to know me better; I could change his mind about the disposable and all that baby stuff. I was beginning to feel quite smug that I had got a boss as a ‘boyfriend’ and that we’d be having an ‘affair’ in the office and nobody would be any the wiser. I began to smile to myself about how fantastic this might be for me… and my career.

~

As I got out of the car he passed me a small canvas bag and said it was my uniform and he expected me to wear it in the office the following day. I had no idea what it was but smiled my thanks and said I’d see him in the morning. He smiled back and said he couldn’t wait. My body trembled in expectation.

 

So, as I waddled into the house, mum was waiting wanting to know why I was late.  I honestly told her that I was working on an exciting new project with one of the bosses and that I was sure it would be terrific for my future prospects with the firm. Mum was so pleased she hugged me tightly. I suddenly remembered I had thick padding underneath and quickly pulled away and said I needed to change.

 

She was so full of pride she beamed her love across the kitchen.

 

“You’ve got everything you need to go far Charlie, the looks, the sense and that natural friendly ability… I’m sure you’ll be a huge success sweetheart.”

 

“Thanks mum.” I hope you’re right.

 

I got to my bedroom and shucked off my suit. The plastic pants crinkled louder and I just hoped mum hadn’t noticed the sound as she hugged me, if she did she hadn’t said. I looked in the mirror and the bulge seemed so stupid, I shrugged and thought - if this is what it takes to get on in the world… well… I was sure others had had to do worse.

 

Besides, I was convinced that Mr Wojciechowski, despite his weird little ‘stress reliever’, would soon be only interested in having wild and frequent sex with his ‘sweet little Executive Toy’ and would forget all about his ‘nursery element.’

 

*

tbc

[My Nightmares Have Become Dreams 1-7]

Thanks for such wonderful comments 

 

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Short story moved to correct place - sorry.