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As the tech problem appears to have lost this story completely I have reposted the first four chapters in one go. I shall hopefully be adding more as we go along but I suppose we need to make sure this is all working again. I've missed keeping up with all the fab stories and looking for old ones that are quite brilliant. ############################################ My 18th Birthday “Stoopid, stoopid, stoooooopid,” I was so angry with myself for letting it happen. I was rapping my knuckles on my forehead, shouting and scowling at myself because I just couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. I know I’m not the brightest person in the world but I should have caught on sooner and I wouldn’t be in the mess, literally, that I was now… sitting in. With a thick diaper stuck to my body, I disliked immensely the way the poop engulfed everything and made me feel both dirty and queasy. It didn’t help that I was being chastised for being “A dirty little baby” and made to feel that was all that I would ever achieve. Banging my head wasn’t helping as it hurt. I sat shaking in my pile of poo unable to do much else and began, as I so often did these past few days, to cry. No doubt I looked the picture of abject misery but, this is what the people had wanted and they were getting just that from my current display. * My name is Benjamin or Ben, never Benjy as I’ve always thought that sounded so childish. My parents are both quite high achievers in their respective fields; mom being an art historian and dad being a Biotech company CEO. My older sister, Gwyneth had her first book published when she was sixteen, her second did quite well and her third, Smart Moves, had recently been optioned for a movie. I on the other hand am basically just that, basic. I have no conspicuous talent. I cannot play sports very well (although I’m always game for a … game) and my academic achievements had me constantly in the bottom half-dozen or so. It wasn’t that I didn’t try, Hell; I never stopped trying as I had a great deal to live up to but I just wasn’t clever enough. Simply put, compared to the rest of my family I am DUMB, not gifted in anyway but, on the plus side, I would try anything if I could. Whereas the rest of my family have terrific jobs I’m stacking produce at our local superstore. It’s boring and doesn’t pay well; a group of Mexicans, East Europeans and me all work for minimum pay just so we have a job to our name. It probably is about the only thing I can do without mucking up but I’d like something better. But hey, look around you – do you see loads of bosses desperate to give high paying jobs away to the likes of me? You get what you’re given and like it… or at least don’t complain about it. I’ve heard being described by my parents as ‘over-emotional’ (although it’s always said as a whisper and as if I wasn’t even in the room). Obviously it is a somewhat dismissive term but I’m not sure I know why being ‘over-emotional’ is a bad thing. OK, I admit that I can cry at seeing kittens and puppies playing (in fact any baby creatures immediately win my heart) but it’s out of joy. I know I’ve been known to cry at some awful news story where people have been hurt or killed and I also seem to identify with the images of the starving across the world and yes, I am emotional and get upset about any form of violence. For a guy my age I watch very little TV because I find it too violent and the same with computer games. My friends, those few I have, think I’m weird and a bit of a ‘softie’ (although I’m sure they say much worse). OK. So I’m still living at home with Mom and Dad, when they are here, otherwise I’m shipped off to my clever author sister while they are away on business, vacation or whatever as they don’t trust me not to wreck or set fire the house if I’m left to my own devices. Chance would be a fine thing. * It was approaching my 18th Birthday and I was looking forward to some kind of celebration as all my other (few) friends had huge parties when they had reached this magical age. Alas, both my parents would be away on business for a month and my sister wasn’t interested in giving me a party. I suggested we go out for a meal, or something, but she’d just had some bad news herself and was in no mood for any kind of celebration. Gwyneth had just found out that her boyfriend of three years had recently sired a baby with another girl, whilst my sister had just lost her own. Her house was no place for merriment and I was happy to spend as much time as I could stacking shelves and collecting trolleys just so I wasn’t around her too much. However, one late night I saw her looking through an album of old photographs. She was smiling at a page that had some rather cute pictures of me. The one she was particularly happy about was of me, I must have been barely one year-old, sleeping and cuddling my teddy bear (Teddy), whilst wearing only a particularly thick and well-pinned diaper. My blue pacifier seemed to cover half my face but I looked so happy and contented hugging Teddy tightly. According to Gwyneth, I was always a happy, chirpy little baby, always smiling and rocking in my diaper or crawling around on some expedition that ended with me back where I started. * Eventually, as we settled together on the sofa she asked, with an air of sadness, regret and nostalgia, what it was that I missed most about my childhood. I shrugged and looked at the album, the page still open at me and my teddy bear. “That.” I said emphatically. “I miss having something to cuddle.” When I was five years-old my parents, no doubt thinking it was for my own good (or something they had read somewhere) decided to get rid of all my childish notions by throwing out all my baby toys and mementoes. Teddy went with the rest of the stuff to the goodwill store and I never saw him again. I was devastated and I know for weeks after I’d wake up wet both from crying so much and peeing the bed. The last thing they wanted to do was put me back in diapers (it was against the very concept of my growing up) but mom would only put up with wet sheets for a couple of days before she insisted I wear disposables on a night. Oddly enough, these became my comfort for the next few months until I was gradually weaned off my loss of Teddy and eventually back into pjs. Gwyneth took another look at the photo I was still pointing at. “You do look particularly sweet,” she said nodding at the photo and then half to herself, “perhaps I should get you something special for your birthday after all?” Now I love my sister, in fact, I love everybody. I try not to be nasty to anyone and I go out of my way to be respectful to my seniors (Gwyneth is six years older than me) and try and do what I can to help if they are in difficulties or provide a cheerful word if they look like they might need one. I’m no Good Samaritan but I do help out at charity events and the church if they need any volunteers. At work, on their charity day, I was helping run the crèche, organise the free food and dress up as a clown to entertain the children. I got extra credit for all my efforts and was able to get an extra 5% off anything I bought in the store that week. Alas, I had no money and there was nothing I wanted. * As my 18th birthday approached I noticed that Gwyneth’s mood improved, as if in some way my reaching this age had cheered her up. I was glad to see her a lot happier and we chatted long into the night about silly stuff and our family. She was telling me that at the moment she had a sort of ‘writer’s block’ (which after all she’d been through I could understand) and that she was glad she had her ‘little brother’ to keep her company through this trying time. I felt sorry for her having to go through all that but was pleased that I was there and in some way help. Perhaps my parents hadn’t been quite as selfish as I’d thought in not letting me stay at home on my own. The guys at work had bought me celebratory cake for my birthday, which we wolfed down in our lunch break. I received a card signed by them all and also received a load of pats on the back and ‘well dones’ throughout the day. You’re probably wondering why I wasn’t out with my friends or girlfriend, well, I don’t have that many friends and most girls are only interested in a guy with a car and I didn’t fall into that particular category. When I got home the mailman had been but I got not so much as a card from mom and dad. I suppose they were too busy but you’d think… wouldn’t you? Thankfully, Gwyneth had remembered and not only got me a card but a present. * It was the biggest teddy bear I’d ever seen. It was slightly bigger than me and had this huge blue bow around its neck just like Teddy had. At first I thought ‘what a stupid gift’ but then I remembered our conversation from a few days previously and, ever thoughtful, she had actually bought me something she thought I’d love. As I stroked his soft fleecy bulk (yes I named him Teddy as I’m that imaginative), his glassy eyes and stitched on smile won me over and I couldn’t stop cuddling him… he was so soft and… wonderful. Gwyneth was delighted that I was happy and we sat and had a meal that she had specially prepared. She even offered me a glass of a rather nice chilled white wine, which for once didn’t taste of warm sour apples like I’d had in the past, although I really wasn’t much of a drinker. After two rather large glasses I was quite giggly and Gwyneth was very entertaining. She took a few photographs on her phone of me and Teddy cuddling and kissing (yes I know but I’d had a couple of drinks) and she thought how delightful we both looked. Then she said she had an idea and wondered if I’d be up for a dare. I wasn’t sure where this was going but, with my inhibitions loosened by the wine, nodded and she suggested we recreate that image of me of when I was one year old. * I laughed out loud. She laughed along with me and then said that perhaps, we should ask Teddy? “OK Teddy, you huge cuddlesome beast,” she giggled like she was a seven year-old, “should Benjy…” Now I giggled like a toddler as I looked into Teddy’s eyes half expecting him to actually reply. His huge furry face and soft welcoming body oozed love and friendliness… this was a Teddy who would always be there for you… for me… and would never steer me wrong. “… should Benjy accept the dare?” She nodded then looked at me who was watching her and then looked back at Teddy. Suddenly she leapt up and gave a little shout “There,” she said emphatically, “he just nodded.” I looked back at Teddy and there was no doubt that his smile appeared to have got broader (though this might be down to the influence of alcohol on my brain) and he was nodding (again this might have been down to my sister pushing him with an unseen hand), either way, it was conclusive. Teddy wanted me to re-enact my photo. * I started cuddling him but Gwyneth said that I had to change first. I wasn’t too sure what she meant but she told me to follow her to her room. “OK, let’s do this correctly,” she slurred slightly, “We need you dressed properly.” I wasn’t sure what was about to happen but I was enjoying the silliness of the situation so went along with it. “Take off your clothes,” she waved her hand in the direction of them, “and lay down on my bed.” I was a little bit shocked at the suggestion but it was my sister and she wouldn’t be seeing anything she hadn’t seen thousands of times before, which she reminded me of as I slowly pulled off my shirt and dropped my jeans. “Yesshh, and your boxers,” she went off in search of something in the bathroom. Reluctantly, I slid them to the floor and then playfully kicked them off. They landed on a lampshade, which immediately made me start to giggle even more. “Now I’m an accurate kicker,” I half grumbled to myself. “Why wasn’t I that good when I played soccer and there were other people around?” * I lay out naked on the soft, feather-filled, cream and blue duvet that covered her bed and awaited her return; my bare dick not displaying any of its usual feistiness like it often did when it came to being free of clothing. I stroked it a couple of times but thankfully it wasn’t playing and at that point Gwyneth arrived back in the room carrying a thick towel and I guilty let go of my prized ‘toy’. “I’ll get you something else to play with later,” she mocked as she pretended to slap away my hand. I realised what she was going to do and thought “Why not go all the way?” so let her fold it into shape and slip it under my bum… although before pinning it into place she sprinkled some baby powder all over me. “Now you even smell the part,” she was smiling and that had me responding in the same way as I quite like the smell of talcum powder. Nakedness between us has never been a problem. Nudity was never shameful in our family and it was just ‘normal’ that we wondered from bedroom to bathroom naked as it was wearing something. As we grew up we didn’t hide ourselves from each other so it was really no big deal for her to see my genitals, though perhaps not so close up. Even though she hadn’t lived at home for a couple of years now I wasn’t bothered as she rubbed the powder in and then tightly pulled the towel up between my legs and pinned it into place. She pulled me to my feet and let me look at myself in the mirror. I was amazed at how thick the towel fashioned as a diaper appeared but, and I have to hand this to my sister, it looked exactly like the one I was wearing as a baby all those years ago. She was smiling. “Let’s go show it off to Teddy… see what he thinks off his little friend… his little Benjy.” **** Part 2 Though it’s a name I never really liked, Benjy just seemed appropriate at that moment. She took my hand and guided me back to Teddy who once again seemed more than happy to see me, even dressed as I was. Gwyneth was keen that we should cuddle on the floor (not me and her, me and Teddy) so she could get another photograph. He was so cosy and soft it was like falling into warm butter and, as I squeezed him tightly, his furry arms appeared to embrace me at the same time. There is something very satisfying about a soft, yielding bear that welcomes you into its arms and responds with soft fleecy tickles to your naked body. Everywhere his fur touched produced a wonderful sensation; little ripples of giggly pleasure and velvety reassurance added together with delicate caresses made me feel very safe... and very loved. There was one thing missing and I was surprised when Gwyneth suddenly produced the finishing touch. She slipped a huge blue pacifier between my lips, which I had no idea how she got or where it came from. At that moment I didn’t question anything as Gwyneth started organising and taking her snaps. It was no problem snuggling with Teddy and to tell you the truth I was thoroughly enjoying myself. This was the most intimate contact I’d had with anyone (or anything) since, well, since I was five and had my final cuddle with the original Teddy… and I appreciated this renewed relationship. * The room was warm and I was comfortable wearing only a made-up diaper. It fitted tightly so wasn’t falling down every few seconds and once Gwyneth had finished taking her photos, we settled down to finish our meal, well dessert actually. It was nothing special except a rather colourful ice-cream medley. We decided to have it sitting on the sofa whilst watching a late night movie. Teddy was just too big to sit with us so he sat at my bare feet, tickling them every time I brushed against him, which I did regularly, so I was smiling when my sister brought in the dessert in a bowl. She then did something we’d never done before; she fed me spoonsful of the stuff in between taking the odd mouthful for herself. It was a lovely tender and unexpected moment. At one point we were in fits of laughter because she’d offered some to Teddy only for him to turn it down. I think she sneakily nudged his head so it looked like he was refusing the creamy delight. “Well I suppose someone’s got to think of their figure,” she shrugged and we both sniggered like tots at that. The movie was boring and the wine had made me very tired so I excused myself and brought my 18th birthday celebrations to a close. Gwyneth gave me a ‘goodnight’ peck and I thanked her for a great fun night (I had actually enjoyed what we’d done together it was so unlike anything we’d ever done before) as she patted my diapered bum and jokingly said I wasn’t to wet, but if I was going to, then at least I was dressed accordingly. I laughed as I began to trundle to my room but she called me back and asked if I wasn’t forgetting somebody? Of course, Teddy. I picked him up, for such a huge animal he was incredibly light to carry, and we toddled off to bed. It felt strange having the thickness of the diaper between my legs but with Teddy by my side I wasn’t worried, I dreamily thought he’d protect me from whatever the darkness brought. He was my friend and oddly enough the diaper seemed to make everything feel as it should be. Maybe it was the memory of how comforting diapers had been after I lost Teddy the first time that made me not worry as to the way I was dressed. We climbed on top of the sheets together and it was so nice sinking into bed with someone else, even if that someone was Teddy. He was warm and welcoming and it wasn’t long before, clutched in his paws (and him mine) we were dead to the world. * I woke up from a particularly heavy night’s sleep. I was slightly woozy but I was still clutching hold of Teddy, I smiled and thanked him for keeping me safe. I lay there for a few minutes enjoying the sensation of Teddy against my skin when I became aware of the thickness between my legs. I pulled back the thin piece of sheet partially covering us both and saw the towel hanging loosely around my hips. I was quite impressed that I’d been able to sleep with such an unusual thing wrapped around me but apparently, it had made no difference to how I slept. Then I suddenly wondered if I’d wet myself. I didn’t feel wet but… I slipped my hand across the front and thankfully that all felt dry, then, furtively, I slipped it down the front and checked around my dick. “Dry”, I sighed with relief. I got up, went to the bathroom and had a nice long shower. I could hear Gwyneth pottering around downstairs and was really pleased with the way we’d celebrated my birthday. As the shower grew warmer I was thinking it was a birthday I’d never forget and beamed enthusiastically at the thought of what we’d done. It had been madly childish but I now had a new Teddy and although I was eighteen, I wasn’t going to let my parents or anyone else send him to the goodwill store. * Dressed in shorts and t-shirt I wandered downstairs. I had four days off until I was scheduled to go back into work so I was being comfortable and relaxed. The store uniform was a tight-fitting green polyester ensemble of trousers and a shirt; with my name and ‘CAN I HELP’ written across the left breast, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to wear but no one could pretend I wasn’t staff. Anyway, it was something I was always happy to ditch the moment I got home and slip into my favourite casual clothing, which is what I now wore as I wondered into the kitchen. Gwyneth was making coffee, smiling and humming to herself. We exchanged the usual pleasantries but I detected a grin on her face, which meant she was up to something. “What are you smiling about,” I enquired. “Oh, nothing much except I did something last night I’m… er… surprised at the results.” She smiled but looked down as if she had a guilty secret. “Yes, it was pretty strange wasn’t it… oh… and that reminds me… I’ve put the diaper in the bin. It’s not wet. Well it is but I… er… just dried myself on it.” I said quickly defending myself against any thoughts to the contrary she might have. Her face brightened up. “No seriously. I didn’t pee my diaper, honest. I just used what was nearby when I climbed out of the shower.” I stammered. She could see I was getting slightly agitated over nothing but that smile was still there. “I believe you,” she tried to calm me and put her hand over mine. “Anyway, I’m talking about something else.” And she flipped open the laptop that lay in front of her. “See,” she pointed to a Facebook page that had an image of me as a one year-old and me as an eighteen year-old, side by side hugging teddies, with pacis in our mouth and wearing diapers. She’d put the damn image from last night online. I was mortified. Not only that but as a joke she had swapped the caption underneath so it read “Benjy at 18” under the image of me at one year-old and “Benjy at 1” under the other. “Take it down.” She was still smiling. “Please, Gwyneth, take it down before anyone sees it… I… I…” “Too late for that I’m afraid.” The smile never left her face as she pointed to the fact that there were 207 Likes and 44 Comments… all of which Gwyneth assured me were positive. I put my head in my hands and wondered what I should do. I’ve never been any good at getting angry and I don’t think I’ve ever lost my temper with Gwyneth so I was stumped for how I should really respond. All I could think about was the guys at work seeing it and them constantly referring to it. It was a good thing I had so few friends, I wasn’t on Facebook because of that, but she told me she’d set one up just for me. Also, she informed me that I was now ‘trending’, whatever that was, and the next time I looked the Facebook page had gone up to 297 Likes and 61 comments. * I sat quietly sipping my coffee but unable to eat anything at that moment. I had filled-up and I was desperately trying to hold back my emotions. I wondered what had possessed her to do such a thing but as she was sat typing away I thought perhaps it had helped her get past her writers block. She pressed the ‘enter’ key and sat back relieved as if she’d just completed an enormous task. “Have you unblocked yourself,” I asked rather ineptly (and weepily). She looked at me pondering what I meant, “Can you now write… have you got over not having a story or… whatever…?” She smiled and said that she now had an idea but that it would need my help to see where it led. She was trying to cheer me up and dig me out of my ‘emotional’ state with a bit of enthusiasm. She speculated that it might be a terrific change of style for her but needed my involvement and hoped I’d be up for it. I was still nursing my bruised and emotional ego; I didn’t really want 297… no it was now 314… people to think of me as a baby but I suppose it did no real harm. After all, I had so few friends to worry over and in fact, my parents and my sister were the only people I really had anything to do with. I liked the guys at work but… well… it was work; it wasn’t like we socialised much. Even school mates were few and far between, I only saw them when they were back from college or university or where ever. “I’ve just uploaded a few more images of you from last night to the page…” she spun the screen for me to see, “and already people are clicking the ‘Like’ button.” * Although I was frustrated with her attitude my sister had furnished me with something else for my birthday, something I would never even have thought about, my own Facebook page. As I watched the screen I was amazed to see the number of Likes and Comments that kept appearing. She smiled at my stunned expression and suggested that I should read some of them. I had no idea how to go about it but she pointed out how many Likes each image was receiving and clicked on a box that let me see the comments. Most were very positive: “Oooo look at the lickle babe”, “What a sweet innocent picture”, “Lovely idea”, “What a nice boy” and similar things. However, there were one or two more intense messages. Gwyneth tapped the screen. “I think maybe later we should take a look at these suggestions and see where they lead.” I shook my head and told her I didn’t think so but she begged me to reconsider as she thought it would make an interesting part to a new novel she was just beginning to envisage. This, she promised, would get her back on track as she could already feel her creative juices flowing. I still doubted the wisdom of getting involved but she told me that I would be credited at the front of the book for my ‘inspiration’. OK, she got me. How could I refuse my sister and such an opportunity to be recognised as someone who had given a successful author ‘inspiration’? * As I sat at her laptop reading the various messages she told me, as she slipped on her coat, collected her car keys and headed for the door, not to reply to any comment just yet. I just shrugged but I have to admit that my curiosity was aroused by just how many people, now standing at over 400 Likes and 83 Comments, felt the need to acknowledge my photographs. I know I was looking like a happy teenager playing with a huge teddy bear and wearing just a diaper but I couldn’t get over why that should create such attention. “Where you going?” I eventually managed to break away from the screen. “Just to get a few things from the store, I shouldn’t be long.” She smiled. “There’s plenty of juice in the fridge if you’d rather have that than coffee… and there are some English muffin’s if you want something to eat.” “OK, see you soon.” I did prefer juice and poured myself a lovely long cool glass of OJ before putting the muffins in the toaster. I grabbed the butter and strawberry jelly and sat at the laptop waiting for the toaster to do its job, the screen had gone blank and wasn’t sure whether I should touch it to try and get my pages back. I was curious to see how things had developed since I’d last looked. I waited until I’d finished my breakfast before I examined the screen again and hoped that by touching one of the keys I didn’t erase all of Gwyneth’s work. * A list of recently visited sites appeared and I was distracted to see that the latest one was YouTube. This was perhaps one of my favourite sites because of all the cute animal clips that seemed to occupy most of its content. I decided I’d like to see some playful kittens to cheer myself up and pressed on the key. It went straight to a clip of a big baby rolling around the floor with a huge teddy. Oh no, it was me. The clip started on my diaper pins and slowly pulled out to reveal, well, everything. To begin with my face was hidden by the big paci and it could have been anybody but as I played with Teddy and moved around the floor hugging and kissing him I became more and more identifiable. My mouth went dry, it was if I’d never even drunk that OJ, and I stared at the screen mesmerised by my actions. There was absolutely no doubt I was having fun, diaper or not, and from the occasional looks to the camera you could tell I was in my element. As I watched my body went clammy and I could feel those emotions of mine rising to the surface. As I happily played my diapered bottom appeared to be the main focus of attention – just what the hell was Gwyneth thinking? There were three different clips; two of me playing with Teddy and one of me sleeping with Teddy, which I didn’t even know she’d recorded. In fact, I didn’t know she’d recorded anything I thought she was just taking photos with her phone. There I was, happily snuggling Teddy with my arms wrapped around him, paci hanging slightly out of my mouth fast asleep and my white padded bottom looking quite prominent against the dark blue of my sheets. I wondered why so many people had commented and noticed that the clips had, even after just such a short space of time, received more than 3200 hits. There was a link to the Facebook page but now I was dreading reading the comments as I was sure they would be calling me a perv… or worse. I filled up with tears and cried because I didn’t know what I could do, I thought such notoriety would make me a laughing stock in town, perhaps lose my job and I’d never be able to look people in the eye again. * My bottom lip was still trembling when Gwyneth arrived back home. I hadn’t moved from staring at the screen because I was simply mesmerised by the images. She could see I was disturbed and dropped the bundle of packages she was carrying and came over to comfort me. The sobbing became a full blown wail as I buried my head in her bosom and kept on asking her “Why?” I assumed she hadn’t done it to hurt me but I couldn’t figure out why she would do such a thing. After a few minutes I calmed down and I looked at my sister through tear-stained eyes. She hugged me again and asked why I was crying. I was speechless that she could ask such a question so just pointed to the screen. “Yes, it’s you…” she asked with concern, “but why are you crying?” “What… what… what will…” I sniffed, “what will people think?” She just shook her head slightly. “They’ll think that there’s something wrong with me… they’ll think I’m…” I couldn’t finish my thoughts as I was overcome once again with a huge sob that gripped my throat and left me shaking my head in disbelief. “Tell me,” Gwyneth was now all very serious, “aren’t those really tears of happiness?” I looked at her in disbelief. “You’re eighteen. Eighteen,” she emphasised, “and” she pointed at the screen, “that’s the first time I’ve seen you truly happy in many-a-year.” There was no doubt about it those images were of me genuinely happy. When I was playing with Teddy I simply didn’t have another thought in my head apart from having a fun time with him. But I wondered, what might others think of an eighteen year-old running around in a towel… that’s a diaper? Gwyneth hugged me once more. “You, my sweet little Benjy, needed something. I wasn’t sure what to begin with but, and I’m sorry to say this to my little brother but, you needed a kick up the arse for you to start living.” I was stunned at what she was saying. “You are eighteen and just coasting through life. You have a miserable job…” I interrupted her and said that at least I had a job. “Yes you do, and I’m sure it’s fine in many ways but… I’ve never seen you actually happy for so long now. You seem to have few, if any, friends and mom and dad are no real help to encourage you…” The enormity of what she was saying suddenly gripped me and I felt that huge sob I’d been holding back in the pit of my stomach come out with force. I hung onto Gwyneth as I wailed and wailed, not this time because I was worried about what others might think but because she was correct. ***** Part 3 Later, when I’d calmed down, Gwyneth told me her thinking. She said that from the moment I saw the photo of me with Teddy as a baby there was an immediate change of expression on my face; wistful, thoughtful, with a touch of longing. She wasn’t sure but thought Teddy made me happy. I began to think back - certainly that time in my life, when I wasn’t regarded as anything but a toddler, when I didn’t have to prove myself and just enjoy my childhood… I was like everyone else my age… a little kid revelling in what was around him... I was happy. She went into a great deal of detail about how I tried so hard to live up to my parent’s expectations; they were of the opinion that kids should grow up quick and had little time for games and play – ‘read and learn’ was their philosophy. Unfortunately, those were the very things Gwyneth was most happy doing but I just couldn’t get to grips with. Reading and numbers just weren’t for me and I wrestled with school work, which I found very difficult no matter how I tried. My sister went on about how, even so young, I let failure weigh heavy on my shoulder, although it wasn’t always obvious because I tried to be positive and strived to be upbeat. Once our parents realised I wasn’t going to be a boy genius (they were most disappointed in my report cards) they more or less lost interest. They gave themselves over to their work and concentrated on their careers rather than what I did. Of course Gwyneth was way ahead in her development and they saw no problems there. Often I tried to read but once I’d open a book, if I got past the first two pages, well, my concentration level jumped to wanting to watch TV or go and play outside. Sometimes I’d curl up with Gwyneth and she’d read to me whatever it was she was interested in. I may not have understood everything but I think, without her, I’d know very little. When I thought about it, she did the job my parents should have done. It wasn’t that they ignored me, more that they tolerated me. I was their son after all… I zoned back in to what Gwyneth was saying. “You may not have been the cleverest in school but everyone liked you.” She looked at me very concerned and stroked my arm. She went on to tell me that even now I accept limitations but said I shouldn’t. She thought it sad that I didn’t have a girlfriend… or a boyfriend, she nudged me and smiled, but thought I needed to do something to break away from my ‘boring’ rut of a life… and do something to regain my happiness. “The recreation of the photograph last night suddenly brought things into focus for me,” she was on a roll now. “You seemed to become a different person, a happy person, a person who, left to their own devices… and given the right stimulus…” “You mean you thought I enjoyed being a baby?” I asked incredulously. She pointed to the screen. “Yes, just look at yourself. Even when you’re asleep you look happy.” A shiver ran through my body because I knew she was making some kind of sense and I had really loved last night. “But the diaper… what will people think?” “Well,” she pondered. “You may not like it but… I think that helped release something in you - something that has been holding you back. Last night we giggled like kids and there was no one around but us two to say anything or have an opinion about what we did. No parents, no workmates, no one to hold you back, so why should you let others inhibit you? Stop thinking about what others may think… they don’t matter.” Then she ran her hand through my hair and kissed my forehead, “And yes… even for an eighteen year-old, running around in a diaper… you looked pretty damn cute.” “But why put it all online, couldn’t you just have said something?” I complained. “It was just a spur of the moment decision. I wanted to let you see that the majority of people quite like to see someone enjoying themselves. People like all kinds of things to hide what they do and what they are, but you brother, were open and happy when you weren’t worrying about anyone else and I think others respond to that.” She pointed to the screen, “I think you respond to that.” * There were more opinions from my sister and, as she’s a lot brighter than me, eventually convinced me that this was a turning point in my life. She added that the comments online were almost all positive, occasionally cheeky but always interested, supportive and in some ways quite affectionate. Of course there’s going to be one or two people who hate the idea of others finding a way of having fun “Just so they can shit on you” (yep she actually said shit) but, and this is where her recent shopping trip had come in, she wanted to try and let me take that idea of happiness a little further. She’d bought a whole load of adult disposables and wanted me to spend the next few days wearing nothing but them. She persuaded me that I needed to get back to when I was at my happiest. To relive those times hoping to give me a window into what I needed to do to make me content in the future. I baulked at her suggestion but my sister has a way of getting me to go along with her plans so, guess what? She took me upstairs, stripped me out of my shorts and t-shirt and slipped me into a tight-fitting disposable. She took great pains to make the event something special; opening the package, unfurling the diaper, enjoying the crinkling sound as she spread it under my bottom. The wet-wipes and powder she used to clean me up (not that I was dirty or anything it was all part of a process), the silliness as I started to get a stiffy from her ministrations, which she quickly took care of by pulling the disposable tightly up between my legs and taping me snugly in. From her bag she produced a pair of plastic pants and had me climb into them after which led me to Teddy, who, during the proceedings she had found time to dress the same. How she knew I’d go along with her suggestion I do not know but, oddly enough, I was delighted to see Teddy dressed like me and it did make things easier. We spent the rest of the day playing games; me, my sister and Teddy. * Now you may think - well that was easy - getting me into diapers but I’ve spared you the long discussion we had to go through to get to that stage. She showed me loads of comments that had been posted by those who’d watched the clip or seen the images. As I’ve said, most seemed straight forward and nice but others were actually welcoming me to my ‘little’ side. I had no idea what they were referring to but Gwyneth seemed to understand and, more importantly, felt it was something I should get to know. Ever the author, she’d spent some time researching what it all meant and thought it applied to me, even if I wasn’t aware of it. She then showed me clip after clip of other grown-ups wearing diapers and having fun. People from all over the world and all ages, I was astonished there were others at all. A couple of cute boys in Japan appeared to have a site about their daily diapered exploits, one nice young man sang a song at his piano dressed in a thick diaper. There were so many – an old guy eating whilst in a high-chair, others drinking from baby-bottles and sippy cups or charging around whilst wearing nothing but diapers and a cape pretending to be a super hero. Meanwhile, as some played with toys several exhibited what they had just crayoned or painted. It was quite overwhelming and gave the impression that diapered and padded plastic covered bottoms were everywhere. It was a whole new world to me and one I had no idea existed but, as Gwyneth pointed out, they were all enjoying themselves and not worrying what anyone else thought. She convinced me to give it a go and promised that if I wasn’t getting any pleasure from the new ‘situation’ then we’d forget all about it. It was late evening when I was eventually diapered and, thanks to Gwyneth, I didn’t feel guilty whilst running around dressed as I was and cheerfully including Teddy in all my escapades. Suddenly my mind was open to fun - childish fun - fun that I hadn’t experienced, well, since I was a toddler. The truth was I was in my element. Weirdly, the wearing of a diaper and plastic pants (Gwyneth said it was my freedom uniform!) had no restricting effect on the way I behaved. In fact, she was correct, it felt wonderful to wear; snug, comfortable and the constant rustling as I moved around acted like some kind of soothing sound I found reassuring. Though it may have appeared very juvenile to anyone looking on I’d never felt happier, freer, or more content. The diapers, the plastic pants, the pacifier, indeed the entire ensemble gave me a feeling of complete reassurance. Teddy provided someone I could direct it all to, while Gwyneth was my guide and safeguard. * In the morning I woke up with Teddy and off course I’d spent the night wearing just my padded protection (another term Gwyneth used although I wasn’t sure from what it was I was being protected). My sister was standing over me and gently shaking my shoulder to rouse me from my deep and untroubled sleep and then, without asking, she felt down the front of my diaper. “What are you doing?” I queried as I quickly clasped her hand over my bulky protection stopping her searching fingers from reaching any further. “Just checking.” “Just checking what?” “Just seeing if you wet yourself in the night…” “What?” I asked incredulously. “Why would I wet myself?” “You might have… I was just checking so that you don’t have to be embarrassed if you had and…” “Stop, stop.” I waved my finger at her. “I’m old enough to get up and go to the bathroom, why on earth would I wet myself?” She smiled. “You don’t have to get all defensive. All I’m saying is… if you had wet yourself it’s OK I will…” “That’s not OK at all,” I argued. “I’m not going to pee… or poop in a diaper… YUK!” “Fair enough. All I’m saying is, should you do so then you don’t have to feel embarrassed about it. I’ll change and clean you up.” I was getting slightly annoyed. Even though I enjoyed being in my diaper I didn’t actually think about using it as a toilet. However, soon after she left the room for me to get up she returned with a new disposable and some other bits and bobs and told me I needed a change anyway. As I’d sort of agreed to wearing nothing but a diaper for the next couple of days she just shrugged off my half-hearted protests and unfurled the crinkly package. * As I lay there I was wondering - Why is she behaving in this way? We’d agreed that it was something I might like to try but wetting and stuff… in a diaper… I wasn’t keen on that at all, and then it hit me. She’d recently lost her own chance of a baby, perhaps the miscarriage was affecting her and I was now some kind of surrogate, someone she was projecting her unresolved feelings on? In that moment of comprehension my emotions welled up inside me again and I hugged my sister. After all she’d been through, still acting strong and in charge yet perhaps she needed her own way of coping with things. I was choked at the thought that if I could help, then I was there for her no matter what it took. Without making a fuss I let her strip off my night time stuff, clean me up (just as she said she would) but this time, when she had me lay out on the newly unfurled diaper, she added some extra pads before taping me tightly into place. This was a whole new experience and with the plastic pants now firmly holding it securely she led me down to breakfast. At this point I have to admit to being more than a little confused. I wasn’t sure whether I was doing this for her or for me but the bulky, rustling diaper arrangement meant I now had a wild noisy waddle as I negotiated the stairs but even that was funny and we joked about it. She’d cut up my pancakes and, although she’d put juice in a sippy cup, I stopped short at her suggestion of feeding me. However, I had noticed that my meal now came in a plastic bowl with cartoon animals smiling sweetly up at me and a spoon that echoed the same cheerful motif. She appeared to have gone to a lot of trouble to make me feel happy about being ‘little’ and I reluctantly began to appreciate all her efforts. * I was happy to wander around the house dressed as I was but when she suggested we go out for the day and enjoy the sunshine in the park or a walk up in the hills I was a little less sure. She told me to just pull a pair of shorts over my diaper and slip on a shirt and I’d be fine. I wasn’t sure about this at all as I was under no illusion that people would be able to tell what I was really wearing under my shorts. Her opinion was simple “Screw them” no one else mattered but me and, she whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “Don’t you think it would be quite exciting, Little Benjy doing what he wants for a change?” Once again, somehow, what she wanted I agreed to and before too long I’d tried on several pairs of shorts and jeans to try and hide the bulkiness, none of which fitted properly. I was beginning to see the downside to wearing padding and such thick padding at that. I was about to tell Gwyneth that I couldn’t find anything but in the end one pair of baggy shorts (I didn’t much like because they were too slack) managed to do the job and surprise, surprise, they were no longer loose. It was a wonderful hot day and I was more than pleased to be out and about not really paying much attention to what I was wearing. Although I could feel the bulk of it all I thought that the shorts hid what was underneath pretty well. We walked up into the hills and hardly saw anyone, those that did pass by just nodded or said “Hello” and carried on their way. We found a lovely shady spot where Gwyneth decided we’d have our picnic. She’d brought sodas, sandwiches and fruit but I wondered what I’d brought in the little backpack she’d given me to carry. She told me all would be revealed eventually but for the time being we should eat and enjoy the wonderful, peaceful surroundings. * The mass between my legs had made me waddle as we walked. It felt peculiar but I was getting a feeling of pleasure knowing what I was wearing, the problem was the padding and plastic made me sweat and I could feel moisture pooling at my crotch. Once we’d sat down Gwyneth saw me trying to rearrange the diaper and suggested, as it was so hot, I take off my shorts and shirt to let some sun and air get to my diaper… as I looked like “…a sweating pig”. It was true I was soaked and it would be a bit of a relief so I furtively looked around and saw no one anywhere near so I did as she suggested. It felt great being outside in the fresh air in just a diaper. Gwyneth thought I looked particularly cute and encouraged me run around and to chase butterflies as she got the picnic ready. I was aware that she was also taking photos with her phone and to be honest I was acting the big kid just for the camera. However, I didn’t know just how much I was enjoying myself until a little while later I noticed a couple talking with Gwyneth. I froze as I heard these two old people, both with walking sticks, making small talk about the weather and the beautiful countryside. They were looking across at me, waving and I heard them say that they liked to see a boy enjoying himself. So engrossed in my game of ‘chase the bugs’ I hadn’t seen the couple arrive but their sudden appearance startled me and made me do something I never thought I’d do - I felt a nervous spurt of pee escape. It was if my bladder was shocked by this unexpected visitation and reacted accordingly. I stood there stunned as they continued to chat and wave a greeting. Unfortunately, I was too embarrassed to respond even if no one else appeared to be. It was too late to hide so I just stood there, like a statue, about twenty feet away completely immobile and wishing I was somewhere else. Gwyneth called me over as the food was ready and inferred I should come and say ‘Hello’ but I was just too self-conscious. Eventually, the couple stopped talking to Gwyneth and carried on their way. As they passed by they smiled and said what a lovely day it was before disappearing down the hill. However, as they spoke, and without warning, my little spurt turned into a flow and no matter what my brain was saying to try and stop it, pee filled the diaper to complete my humiliation. The couple had obviously seen what I was wearing but there was no mention of diapers or shiny plastic pants, even though they were now an even bulkier part of my outfit having absorbed a great deal of liquid. * I waddled over to Gwyneth who looked at me strangely before I think she realized what I’d done. With a knowing but sympathetic expression she asked. “Do you need a change?” I wasn’t sure whether to admit it but there seemed little point in denying what had happened so I nodded. She lifted her hand examining the front of my diaper and said it wasn’t so bad and that it could wait for a while and we should eat first. Despite my embarrassment I was starving so plonked myself down on the blanket and set about the ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches (covered in mayo) with relish. ***** Part 4 Wearing a wet diaper wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it would be and after a while, and despite the bulk, I’d forgotten that I’d wet them. After we’d eaten we had a game of ‘ISpy’ and a rather interesting competition of cloud watching; it really is incredible the shapes you can interpret into actual things. We were coming up with some silly and clearly outrageous suggestions and this had us giggling quite a lot. However, after a couple of hours, and several cans of soda, I was desperate for another pee. Gwyneth looked at me when I said I needed to go because I was searching for a private spot to do my duty. She just reminded me that I’d already used my diaper once so it would be silly not to do so again. I thought I couldn’t do it deliberately but Gwyneth pounced, rolled on top of me and began to tickle. Whether I wanted to or not that got the old pee flowing, and it is to the credit of the diaper’s absorption powers that nothing trickled out. * We lay in the sun enjoying the final few rays before we returned home. I wondered if I’d have to squish all the way but my ever prepared sister opened the little backpack I’d carried, emptied it out and there were spare disposables, plastic pants, creams, lotions and of course a supply of wipes and baby powder. I had no idea that was what I was carrying but, as she pulled at the tapes off my swollen diaper I was rather pleased she’d planned ahead. It was a relief when she removed the soggy thing. It had expanded to quite a size and again I was amazed that I’d been wearing that grossly expanded object between my legs and, perhaps more to the point, it hadn’t concerned me in the least. As she wiped me clean but before she applied the creams and powder a light breeze blew against my naked genitals and sent tiny ripples of bliss through my body. My penis reacted and grew under her deft handiwork but she just smiled, pulled the diaper between my well-powdered groin and quickly taped it into place; flattening its stiffness against my body and blocking any further thoughts I might have had regarding that particular bit of my anatomy. This time the plastic pants I stepped into were blue and I was dressed like that for a few minutes as we packed everything else away. Gwyneth took more photographs and kept on reminding me how wonderful and sweet she thought I looked. In fact, at every opportunity she kept complementing the way I looked and patting my padded bottom, which made me chuckle, I liked the attention. The day had been nothing like any other I could remember. I couldn’t remember ever doing this with mom or dad, days out were just something other kids got to experience with their parents. This was great and even in diapers, it had been a fantastic day… in fact I was appreciating even more the incredible efforts my sister had gone to for me to feel special on my eighteenth. * Back home we sat and watched TV for a while (her in her summer dress and me wearing nothing but a diaper and plastic pants), before she recommended I had a bath before bed - to make sure, she jokingly said, that there was no residue pee left secreted in any ‘crevices’. Normally, I have a shower in the morning and that’s it but her reasonable suggestion made me think it probably wasn’t a bad idea so off I went. I shucked off my diaper, which wasn’t wet, and happily climbed into the suds. The water was very hot but I could just about stand it; my sister’s lavender bubble bath I’d ladled in helped me to fully relax as I let myself soak for quite some time. It had been one hell of a day and as I washed my hair and gently scrubbed those all-important places I began to feel ‘playful’ again. Wearing a diaper had a major drawback for a horny eighteen year-old, it restricted (if not completely prevented) any cock and ball play. A toddler may not think that way but, now I was out of those confining things, I intended on having a different kind of fun. However, just as I was enjoying the gentle caress of my own soapy hand, Gwyneth walked in with a towel. I was slightly embarrassed at being caught in mid-stroke but she just smiled and told me that I’d wrinkle up if I didn’t get out of the bath. I was hoping she’d go so I could continue with my efforts but she just stood there, towel outstretched, waiting for me to rise from the foam. Reluctantly I climbed out and Gwyneth proceeded to give me the most thorough drying I think I’ve ever received; every bit of my body was methodically rubbed. Unfortunately, she ignored the very part of me that would have benefitted from such an enthusiastic massage and I was left more than a little frustrated. * She guided me to my room and of course her supplies were all laid out ready for me to be diapered for the night. I really thought that it would be back to my usual boxers and t-shirt to sleep in but obviously Gwyneth had other ideas. I was about to complain, or try and reason with her at least, but she’d gone to such extraordinary lengths so far to make me happy I wondered if this was perhaps another thing I thought I didn’t want but actually did. Anyway, the upshot was that she carefully applied lotions and creams, lashings of powder and an ultra-thick fabric diaper, which was held in place with two huge pink pins. Once again she slipped up a pair of clear plastic pants that snugly held it all together and, just as I thought she’d finished and was about to crawl into bed, she produced something else, a pair of footed pjs. I wasn’t expecting this and wondered how the hell she’d been able to get hold of something my size so quickly. The pjs were blue with cartoon stars and planets all over them and, as she fed my feet into them, I marvelled at how soft the fabric was as it touched and caressed my skin. Soon my arms were encased and she stood me up for the final action. The zip was at the back and stretched from hips to neck, which she closed with a flourish. Then we stood together looking in the mirror and it was an amazing sight. For a brief second I was stunned at the reflection; I thought she looked like mom and I was back to being a toddler, I was even holding her hand and, as a shiver ran through my body, and despite my size, I really did feel like I was back to being a little kid. I was speechless as Gwyneth gently led me to my bed, pulled back the covers, where Teddy was lying still dressed in his own diaper, and urged me in. I was dazed at this strange ‘mirror revelation’, a glimpse of my past that really shook me and, because I was distracted thinking about it, wasn’t even aware that she had slipped a babies bottle full of warm milk between my lips. As she held it to my mouth, and with my mind elsewhere, I naturally began to suck and closed my eyes as I rhythmically downed the entire contents. Later she replaced the bottle with my paci and left me cuddling Teddy as I drifted off to sleep after what, one way and another, had been a pretty eventful day. * My dreams were of Teddy and me and Gwyneth and me, where Gwyneth was actually my mommy and Teddy was my father… weird. At one point mommy (Gwyneth) was telling me what a ‘good boy’ I was because I’d managed to use the potty correctly but daddy (Teddy) was threatening to spank me if I didn’t wear my diaper like he was (yes in my dreams Teddy/daddy was still wearing his diaper). In my dreams I was doing all I could to please them both and each one was telling me what a ‘clever baby’ I was being. I woke up desperate for a pee. I climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom but once there found I couldn’t reach the zip on the rear of my footer. I tugged and tugged but for some reason I just couldn’t budge it, in the end I had no option but to fill my diaper. I argued with myself that was what the diaper was for, and Gwyneth had encouraged me to think of it in that way, “Just do it” had been her advice, so that’s what I did. To begin with it was a strange warm sensation, which I didn’t mind much, luckily the diaper and plastic pants held it all in and I was able to fall back to sleep relatively quickly. In the early hours I felt I needed to go again but this time I made no attempt to get to the bathroom so lay there and with little effort further filled my diaper. When I eventually did wake up the diaper was thick between my legs and my plastic pants where a shiny stretched reminder at just how much I’d drunk the night before. However, and this fact was a bit of an eye-opener, it didn’t worry me what I’d done. Just the day before the very thought had made me recoil in horror but here I was wearing a fully soaked diaper and not being bothered about it in the slightest. * I got up and sought out Gwyneth because I needed help getting out of the footer. She was already downstairs making breakfast and smiled as I shuffled into the kitchen. Another few photographs were taken as I asked her to let me out but she just told me to sit down and have the bacon and eggs she’d cooked before they got cold, and which had been cut into bite sized pieces. I waddled to the table (I was waddling everywhere at that time) sat down and it was a squelchy diaper that cushioned my bottom. Once again everything was served in the new little kiddie bowl and I was given only the matching spoon to use. My juice was served in a sippy cup and despite any doubts I may have had I was so famished I happily ate and drank the lot. Once my plate was clean and I’d taken it to be washed Gwyneth led me back upstairs to be changed. She tweaked the zipper and it easily came down but I informed her that I was very, very wet because I couldn’t get to the bathroom to go properly. She just smiled as I stepped out of my pjs making small talk about what the plans were for the day and as if changing an eighteen year-old was the most natural thing to do. I shucked down my plastic pants and the fabric beneath was saturated. She asked if I’d messed as well but I just made an “Uuuurrrghhh” type of noise to indicate no and she patted my swollen bottom and unpinned me. How she could be OK with all this changing business I didn’t know but I suppose, thinking about what I’d assumed earlier, she was substituting me for her lost baby… well maybe. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to spoil whatever fantasy or need she had at that moment because, well, I was still enjoying playing this game myself. * Gwyneth had been correct about there being a ‘little’ me somewhere inside and that the people online and who commented on YouTube had also noticed it so, I was feeling part of a pretty cute group. I liked the term ‘little’ and, as my sister had shown me, dressed in diapers had released me to be the fun person she suspected I was all along. With her encouragement being childish was nothing to be ashamed about and living an enjoyable life as a toddler certainly beat stacking shelves. However, work was on the horizon and I wanted to make the most of my time off before it was back to the grindstone. I’d even begun to think that perhaps I might be able to wear a diaper or something similar under my uniform but I was sure the outline would be obvious as the pants were so tight. I showered and Gwyneth once again got me ready for the day. She put a couple of pads in the disposable and pulled up the clear plastic pants. She pointed to a mark on the front and told me that, if I wet them, then the mark would change colour and she could check without me saying anything if I needed changing. Then she pulled out a new yellow t-shirt with tiny toy rocking horses all over them and slipped it over my head. Although I did a sort of double-take because it looked so childish she then produced a matching pair of shorts which she quickly fed my legs into and pulled up to my waist. Again that feeling of just being a little kid with mommy dressing me coursed through my body and I stood transfixed by my new outfit. Although I was eighteen I wasn’t a large teenager, in fact, Gwyneth was a good two inches taller than me and looked much bigger. However, I didn’t get chance to be pleased or complain because Gwyneth was guiding my crinkling butt down the stairs and out to the car. * I had no idea where we were going but Gwyneth was telling me about some of the online comments she had read. According to her, loads of them had said that it was best to make the ‘little one’ happy and comfortable in clothes that were soft, colourful and reminded them of when they were a toddler. Toys and colouring books were also an important aspect to all this so that’s where we were going now, to a mall that had a huge toy store. For every reason I put up not to go (especially dressed as I was) she had a comment that said the opposite. There was no doubt that the bulky diaper I was sitting on was a constant reminder of what I liked and perhaps surprisingly I found the hugging of my hips and groin very pleasing. However, although I quite liked it I thought my little yellow outfit was maybe going too far to be seen in public. Gwyneth said I shouldn’t worry, everything would be alright and was convinced no one would say a thing. I doubted that and remained silent for the rest of the journey. * In the silence I began to think. How come she had a footer my size? How come she had this outfit ready? How come she had a paci, bowl, diapers and plastic…? Just as my suspicions were growing I suddenly got a pain in my stomach. I groaned and Gwyneth asked me what was wrong. I tried to tell her about the pain but almost instantaneously my guts started to churn. I begged Gwyneth to pull over as I needed to go to the bathroom but she said there wasn’t one nearby. She said that I should just pee in the diaper but I moaned I thought it might be more than that. “OK, just hold on we’re not far away.” She said with concern etched on her face. Unfortunately, the turmoil in my stomach wasn’t open to any constraints from me and I couldn’t hold back. With a loud wet fart the contents of my bowel erupted into my diaper and I was crying in humiliation and disgust as wave after wave of poop exited my bottom. The smell in the car was awful and Gwyneth had to roll down the window to get us both some air. I sat in my own rapidly filling diaper stunned at what was happening. As soon as my guts exploded the pain had instantly gone but I was mortified by the strange and disgusting feeling in my pants… my emotions took over and there were more tears. A couple of minutes later and we arrived at the mall but I thought in my state I just couldn’t leave the car. However, she insisted that I couldn’t just sit in the mess and that I wasn’t to worry she’d have me cleaned up in no time. She grabbed my hand and led me crying and gingerly waddling towards Toys’r’Us, which was the first store in the mall nearest to where we parked. There were a few kids already looking at toys with their parents but Gwyneth led me straight to the baby changing area. It was empty when we went in and although I was crying and embarrassed I let her take charge. My little shorts were pulled off, which thankfully were still clean, she then tentatively shimmied the plastic pants down to reveal my bloated and discoloured disposable. Mercifully, the extra padding had absorbed most of the liquid but I was still a mess. She quickly stripped me out of it all and, with barely any acknowledgement to the smell, set about cleaning me up. I hadn’t noticed the large bag she was carrying but as she lay me out on one of the counters, she opened it up to reveal a host of stuff she’d need to fix me. First she used toilet paper and then going over to the sink soaped up a cloth she’d brought and began to wipe away the debris. I was still sniffling when someone else came in. A woman with a baby took one look at me, looked pityingly at Gwyneth and then set about changing her own child. My clean-up took quite some time and during that period I lay there motionless, self-conscious and desperate not to make eye contact with any of the other patrons using the facilities. * A lady with a boy aged about ten came in, found the empty table next to mine and stripped her son out of his shortalls by simply popping some studs at his crotch, laying him out and then popping the studs on his cute cartoon plastic pants, which instantly gave her easy access to his soaked diaper. Gwyneth watched how easily it all appeared and asked the lady where she had bought her boy’s shortalls. After a brief discussion about their usefulness and hardwearing properties (“Just the thing for an active boy”) she made a note of the name she’d been given, thanked her and resumed my re-diapering. The young boy and I were finished together. Gwyneth pulled up my yellow shorts as his mother finished pressing the last few poppers back together. He bashfully smiled at me as his mum picked him up, patted his freshly padded bottom and they set off to finish their shopping… and quite unexpectedly I cautiously waved back. The young boy’s attitude to being changed in public had stopped me blubbing as he seemed untroubled by the process. That sweet little smile had really got to me and I wished we could play together. I was no longer thinking of our age difference only what we had in common and we both wore diapers and had accidents in them. It was a revelation and suddenly I didn’t feel so self-conscious. * Once Gwyneth had packed all her stuff away, and before we left the bathroom, she asked if I was OK. Now I was clean, dry and wearing my thick ‘protection’ (now I knew what Gwyneth had meant by that term) I was comfortable and quite happy to continue. “Good,” she said as she patted my freshly padded bottom and we entered the main part of the store. The array of toys was spellbinding. Mom and dad had never been keen on my playing with such childish things and because Gwyneth, even as a youngster, preferred to read, I wasn’t encouraged or given many toys to play with. As we toured the aisles I was spoilt for choice, I just didn’t know what to get for the best. Over in the kids play area right next to the store I saw the young boy from earlier running around with some younger kids sliding into the ball pit, running on the rope bridge and playing on the JungleGym. He noticed me and waved again and it was the first time I noticed that his diaper was really quite obvious and thick. However, he seemed unconcerned as he smiled, whooped with pleasure and chased some other kids into another part of the ‘playzone’. * Sitting on the floor in front of a plastic toy garage was another guy, perhaps a few years older than me, seeing how the wind-up lift worked that took the toy cars to the top to let them zigzag down again. He was wearing denim shorts but because he was bent over there was no hiding the top of his diaper from showing above the waistband. As I walked past he looked up and smiled, whilst running one of the four vehicles scattered around him along the ground and making car noises. “That looks fun,” I said and he invited me to join him on the floor. He was a lot older than his clothes would have suggested; he had a huge cartoon character on the front of his sweatshirt and his socks also had the same image festooned all over them. His sneakers had lights in the heel which flashed as he walked and he spoke, well, like a toddler. He was both shy and enthusiastic to have someone to play with but then I saw an older man approach who asked him if he’d made a friend. Gwyneth and the man got talking as we played together and inspected all the secrets that the garage contained. I didn’t hear what they were saying because my new friend grabbed my hand and took me to another aisle to look at the latest huge toy castle that he said his ‘dada’ was going to buy him. His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want anyone to notice him, but he was enthusiastic as he explained all the fantastic things the castle contained and all the dragons, monsters and soldiers you could get to do battle. He seemed so excited but then his ‘dada’ called him and he went rushing off to hold his hand. Even though he was older than me he acted like a little kid; shyly holding his ‘dada’s’ hand and swinging a foot whilst he waited for him to stop chatting with Gwyneth. I have to admit, knowing he was wearing a diaper like me was heart-warming, he looked so sweet and just as at ease as the ten year-old boy had been. I sat where I was inspecting the massive plastic castle with all its turrets and towers and wondered if I should get one. He’d fired my imagination and I liked the idea of dragons and knights and fantastic mythical encounters. A few moments later Gwyneth called me but I hadn’t made up my mind. We spent a good couple of hours looking at everything but I really wished I could play in the kids Playzone with all the other children as it looked fun. However, I realised that it just wasn’t built for someone my size and I’d just have to watch. After the two encounters with other ‘older’ diaper wearers, now I was all clean and tidy myself I never gave what I was wearing much thought and it was only the knowing smile from an adult, or a gawping look from a toddler that occasionally made me hesitate. However, I had work to do and decisions to make and they didn’t come easily. In the end I settled on some cars, a large truck and loads of little figures and colouring books from the latest Pixar movie. ***** Tbc

Now, I keep my facebook account away from anything related to here. However two things have happened. I have been getting posts from LL Medico and today I got a post form Sissy Secrets for anyone who wants it. I do not know if my Friends can see my feed, I hope not

Not sure if this is covered else where but I made a fake facebook so I could put all the stuff that I keep off my main facebook page. My main is just family mostly. So I'm hunting for any ABDL or diaper supply web pages that I can like to get updates. So far I've found: Bambino diapers ABUniverse If anybody has any others I'd love to hear about them.