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Forward This is a gentle, and hopefully realistic (for a diaper story) about a sweet DMLB between two friends who want to grow old together while keeping the youthful flame. While there will be domestic discipline, it will not cross into punishment porn or spanking. Just a story about an awkward man who has given up his independence for the chance to be loved and cared for like a toddler. The Question It was right at the cusp of our new relationship when Michelle asked, “So what are you into?” It is the question that every AB/DL fears. Do I tell her the truth, and hope she still accepts me? Or do I brush it off, and hope to broach the subject another day? In truth, it was my fear of answering that specific question that kept me from ever getting married or having many girlfriends. I was just too afraid of the ultimate rejection to even come to the plate. It wasn’t like I was alone, because I had several friends, but none had crossed over into something intimate. And Michelle wasn’t all that different. While the intimacy of our relationship was new, I had known Michelle for a very long time. Long enough to remember when Jessica, her 18-year-old daughter started kindergarten. However, in all those years, Michelle and I hadn’t even slept in the same bedroom. It wasn’t a sudden “When Harry Met Sally,” type of moment that caused us to come together. There were a series of circumstances that pushed us closer. Michelle, after years in a loveless marriage, had finally divorced. Once Jessica graduated from high school, Michelle decided it was time to leave a marriage that had long since died. She and her ex had slept in separate rooms for most of the last fifteen years. I was forced into early retirement due to limited eyesight, not being able to drive, and limited mobility due to leg pain. I was going to have knee surgery, and I needed a place to recover. Michelle took control and decided that I should move in with her, at least temporarily. With her being freshly divorced, and I needed somebody to take care of me, we realized we loved each other dearly and wanted to be together. And the fact is, I needed her much more than she needed me. I bit my lip, which is always a sign of nerves. Michelle looked at me calmly and asked, “What is it? I can tell you’re nervous.” Her voice was calm and reassuring. I started, “It’s, um, uh,” my stammer gets particularly bad when I’m nervous, or flustered. I took a breath and said, “I wear diapers.” In my mind, this could go one of two ways. The first was ultimate acceptance, and even a desire to fully participate in my desires. The second was a complete rejection of everything and leaving me forever. There was no middle ground when I was in little space. Michelle looked confused and asked, ‘You mean like you’re incontinent. That’s ok, my dad had that problem too.” I shook my head and said, “It’s not that. I like to wear diapers.” “What? Why?” “I don’t know. It just kind of makes me comfortable.” “How long have you felt like that?” I answered, “Pretty much all of my life. I always wanted to wear diapers, and when I became an adult, I would buy them and wear them. I pretty much wear them all the time now.” Michelle asked, “Are you wearing one now?” I was and had been diapered most of the time that Michelle and I were ever together. Diapers were my security blanket, and I needed that security when out in public. I nodded, and Michelle said, “Show me.” I got up from the table, pulled down my pants and underwear, and then reveal the plastic pants. I pulled those out discreetly and revealed the top of a Crinklz Aquanaut disposable diaper. She replied, “That’s like a baby’s diaper. Is that what you like?” I could only nod. She then asked, “Do you use them? Do you pee in them?” I nodded and answered. “Yes.” “How about poop?” I blushed and said, “Sometimes, but not very often.” She looked confused and asked, “When was the last time you pooped in your diaper?” I sheepishly answered, “Last Saturday.” “Was it an accident?” “Not really. I usually do that in the toilet.” Our conversation trailed off, and we moved on to other topics. While it wasn’t the clear rejection that I feared, it wasn’t the complete acceptance that I dreamed of. Michelle seemed curious but did not indicate that she liked, or even accepted this part of me. And I took that ambiguity as rejection. In my mind, Michelle didn’t like me wearing diapers. One week later, I was with Michelle again. This was right after I moved in and was just before my surgery. I had moved into my room, and Michelle wanted to take me to dinner. I wasn’t sure what would happen when we got home, and if we would end up sleeping with each other. Since I thought Michelle didn’t like me wearing a diaper, and I feared it would kill the mood, I decided to leave the diaper off. It would be the first time in a while since I had been in public without the benefit of protection, but I didn’t want to upset Michelle. Michelle squeezed around my diaper area. I didn’t realize what she was doing and wondered if it was gentle flirting, but then she said, “You aren’t wearing a diaper?” “Yeah, I decided not to.” There was this awkward pause, and then Michelle asked, “Why? I thought you felt better in diapers.” It was a decisive moment, and my stammer exposed my fear. “I do, but I thought you didn’t like them.” “What gave you that idea?” “Ah- I don’t know. It just felt like you thought it was weird.” “It is weird, but why does that matter?” I didn’t have an answer, so Michelle continued, “Would you feel more comfortable in a diaper?” I didn’t answer, which Michelle took as confirmation, and she said, “Go and put your diaper on, and then we can go out.”