[Gay] Becoming A Baby

[Horndog]

-1-

Waiting for his date to arrive, Michael Cole spent his time leaving a long voicemail message to his ex-boyfriend of two years. He pressed his cell phone against his right ear, sighed heavily once he heard the familiar beep and began to converse as if someone else was on the receiving end.

"Hi, this is Mike. It's about seven, and I'm ready to move on with my life without life," said a monotone Michael. "I have to admit. After you packed your things and left my apartment, it was nice -- well, nice because I was about to get the Febreeze out, and spray the entire apartment so I could remove your really, really bad vibes. What a relief! It only cost me about $2.99 plus tax. I could have rented a male prostitute, and it would have cost the same without the whole 'relationship' thing. Jokes aside, I hope we can move on. We could be friends..."

Michael looked up, and saw a young man looking for someone in the restaurant. Assuming that it was his date, Michael waved the man over to the table. He stood up, walked over to the opposite side of the table, and pulled out a seat for the man. The young man sat down, smiled, and shook Michael's hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Steven. And you're Michael, right?"

"Yeah. At least I think so. That's the name written on the teleprompter," joked Michael as he pretended to look at a teleprompter screen over Steven's right shoulder.

"Are you sure you're not Ron Burgundy?" Steven shot back.

"No, but I'd sure love to have some scotch!"

The pair ordered two Heineken beers, a large cheese pizza with a garden salad. Michael told Steven that he was an aspiring stand-up comedian, and he was looking to break into show business. He tried his best to refrain from complaining about his ex-boyfriend, who had an affair with another man while he went to a recent series of movie and television auditions. He wanted to convey to Steven that he was on the verge of becoming successful. Steven leaned over the table and was genuinely interested in Michael.

Steven, on the other hand, worked as a barista at Starbucks. He recently completed a Master's degree in Psychology, and was also interested in marketing. He and Michael had a colorful conversation about interests, goals, and men. When speaking about their homosexuality, the pair spoke in lowered voices so they wouldn't alarm those who were uncomfortable with the subject matter.

"How long have you been out for?" Michael asked Steven in a whisper.

"Two years."

"Ah, a newbie!"

Both men laughed. They were all smiles as they told stories about their personal lives. The chemistry was apparently there, and they were looking forward to concluding their dinner. The environment was comfortable, the food was just right, and they were waiting for the waiter to deliver the check. Once the check arrived, Michael paid for dinner, stood up with Steven, and gave him a hug as if they were old friends who haven't seen each other in a long time. Michael felt something strange around Steven's waist. Whatever it was created a paper-crunching sound, and it was thick. He looked down at Steven's waist briefly. Steven looked around nervously, bit down on his lip, and took a deep breath.

Knowing what it was, Michael asked anyway, "What was that?"

Steven leaned his lips over to Michael's ear and whispered, "Absorbent undergarment."

Michael felt his heart skip a beat. He was troubled by the discovery. He joked, "You sure don't look young enough or old enough to be wearing that."

Steven cracked a smile, but only a small one. He was embarrassed. "Yeah, well, guess you can say I'm a trailblazer."

"And what's with the whole, uh... 'absorbent undergarment' thing? It sounds too formal for what it is, you know."

"Can we not talk about it here? I'd appreciate that," Steven said tersely.

"Sure, no problem." Michael shrugged.

Michael followed Steven back to his apartment. He genuinely liked Steven, and was developing feelings for him. However, he couldn't stomach the idea of having a partner who wore diapers. As he sat before an intersection, which was two blocks away from the apartment, Michael gripped the wheel and tried to focus on getting to his destination. He kept getting distracted by the mental image of a grown man in diapers -- and even worse, soiled diapers! However, the more he thought about it, the more intrigued he became. His mind wanted to render a verdict of disgust, but his body was strangely stimulated by the idea of grown men in diapers. As he was tormented by the debate between his mind and body, the traffic light suddenly turned green. Drivers honked their horns behind him, and he sped toward the apartment.

By the time he got there, Michael saw Steven walking on a narrow pathway between a pair of single-story apartment properties. Michael parked parallel on the street, hopped out of the car and tried to jog behind Steven. When he realized that he was being followed by Michael, Steven jogged a little faster, opened up the door to his apartment and leaped in. He aggressively closed the door beside him, but not rudely. When Michael knocked at the door, Steven shouted to him from inside, "Give me a sec. I'll be right there. Just need to clean up a few things."

Out of curiosity, Michael slowly jiggled the doorknob. Realizing the door was unlocked, Michael opened it slightly and took a look inside. Michael noticed that in the living room, there was a large jigsaw puzzle on the floor that doubled as a rug. In the middle of that floor contained a bucket of Hot Wheels cars, action figures, and dinosaur toys. To the corner of the living room was a series of large, shiny rubber balls. The rest of the living room was surrounded with bookshelves. There was an office desk complete with a laptop, printer and sound speakers. Beside the desk and the bookshelves, the rest of the living room looked like a toddler's playpen.

Not realizing that Michael was in the house, Steven wandered into the living room and came face to face with his date. Sweat dripped from Steven's eyebrows. He felt his heart beating quickly. He was very nervous, and was concerned that Michael would dismiss him based on appearances. He watched Michael with intensity and swallowed anxiously when he began to speak.

"This is different," said Michael, looking around with a smile. He tried not to chuckle. "You have kids or something? Babysitting for Angelina Jolie?"

"Not exactly. So... would you like the politically correct explanation for this, or do you want me to tell you the truth?" asked Steven.

"Well, whatever it is, it's better to find out now than later."

"Basically, I'm an AB. I'm an adult baby -- in my spare time, it is."

"You don't say..." Michael nodded, tightened his upper lip, and calmly wandered around the room. "Everyone has a thing, I suppose. Let me absorb all of this -- wait! No, no, I mean... no pun intended. Just need to take it all in."

Realizing that Michael was not immediately repulsed or disturbed by the adult baby confession, Steven decided to be more liberal in explaining what an "adult baby" is. He measured his words carefully.

"An adult baby is someone who finds satisfaction from role-playing as someone in an infant-like state. It's on Wikipedia."

Michael sat on the couch, kept his head down and listened to Steven.

"But this doesn't -- and shouldn't define -- me. It's just something I'm casually interested in."

"Well, I don't know about that," Michael interrupted. "You really invested in this 'role-playing.' I like that you're different. Personally, being here makes me feel like I can be at ease. It's still strange, but I'm not threatened by it. You seem like a nice guy, and you have a nice place. But... You don't have to answer this now, but I was wondering: if you had a relationship with someone, could this lifestyle of yours ultimately consume that relationship? Could it become a make-or-break kind of deal?"

"That's a good question. I would like to say, 'No, that wouldn't distract me from having a romantic relationship,' but if I had someone who enjoyed this as much as I do, that would make the relationship more meaningful to me. Not that tossing it all aside wouldn't be meaningful. If I found Mister Right, and he told me, 'You know what? Let's do away with the baby stuff,' I'd say to that, 'OK!' and make it work."

"Wait a second. So if someone were to play that 'adult baby' role with you, you'd be more tuned into that person?" asked Michael.

"Yes and no. If someone was an adult baby like me or was, at least, curious about it, that's just one more thing I can relate to. That's something I can talk about freely without feeling that I was being judged."

"This is interesting," said Michael as he raised his head, looked up at Steven and smiled. "Kinky. I like it!"

"You do?"

"Yeah. I'm kinda digging on your enthusiasm here. It's getting me interested. OK, OK. I need to say this, and get it off my chest. I'm actually curious about what you look like... as an AB."

"Curious, huh?" said Steven as he began to undress.

"Yeah... strange. Something must be wrong with me," said Michael as he rubbed his forehead and sarcastically pretended to be confused. "Did you put something in my beer?"

Steven laughed. "No, but I think having a drink or two will loosen you up and appreciate new things."

"Yeah, maybe that's it. I just can't, under normal circumstances, sit here and take this all seriously."

"Who said anything about taking things serious? I'm anything but," said Steven, who had a cheerful tone. He removed his black dress shirt, formal gray pants, and stripped down to his boxer-briefs. Then he slid down his underwear and showcased his disposable adult diaper. The diaper was obviously wet as the leg gathers drooped down. There were a series of blue and purple lines around the diaper, which Steven later explained were "wetness indicators." The diaper looked like it was heavy, thick, and full. Michael was expecting to see something similar to a baby diaper with colorful tapes and designs.

"This is crazy," Michael commented. "You're wet!"

"It's the real deal."

"I can't believe I'm seeing this."

Michael leaned back on the couch, surprised that his eyes weren't immediately avoiding the sight of a man wearing a diaper. The word "diaper" naturally raised nauseating connotations, but when he was face to face with it, he wasn't immediately deterred. Instead, the word "cute" came to mind. For a split second, he imagined wearing a diaper himself. There was something inviting about it when combined with the infancy appeal. The feeling of amazement quickly transitioned into nostalgia.

For several minutes, he talked about his childhood as he grew up in the suburbs of Chicago. He recalled a time when he would play with his older brothers, play "Cowboys and Indians" and run around the house with a toy gun. He could remember running around the living room and the kitchen, dressed as a cowboy, and wearing a diaper. It felt so comfortable back then. It was a part of life, and he didn't have the responsibilities of an adult. It was a simple kind of fun that was like no other "fun" he experienced once he went to school and grew up.

He remembered when his parents informed him that he had to use the toilet, and he was no longer going to wear diapers. As a child, Michael felt it was a grave injustice, but as soon as he got more involved with the outside world, the feeling of injustice faded, and the willingness to conform with common societal standards increased. However, there were times when he would go to the grocery store with his parents, and see several bags of diapers as he wandered down the baby diaper aisle. He would just look at them casually, but he never gave it much thought other than knowing that the bag of diapers reminded him of simpler times.

"So you're an adult baby too?" asked Steven with a grin. Steven sat down beside Michael, and rubbed his shoulders.

"No, not exactly. I wouldn't go that far," replied Michael dismissively. He shook his head.

"But it does sound like you have this subconscious desire to play around."

"Nice try, Freud."

"Oh, come on!" Steven teased. "Live a little. Are you in a hurry to go somewhere?"

"Nah. I just --"

"Don't sweat it. Relax."

Michael sat there for a moment, and his mind went blank. He wasn't going to think about it. He was going to let his instinct take control for the evening. After allowing his instinct to preside over his actions, he immediately combed back Steven's hair slowly. He bumped noses with Steven, smiled and gave him a kiss. Steven was a good kisser, Michael thought. He was skilled with the tongue. The kissing was passionate, but not overly aggressive. Michael stood up in mid-kiss, lifted Steven up and moved clumsily toward the bedroom. Steven opened the door, and fell backwards on the bed. Michael leaned on top of Steven, and looked around briefly.

The bed was normal. He was expecting a crib. However, there were drawers that contained multiple stacks of thick adult diapers along with some wipes, baby powder, and stuffers. Still, it was an awkward sight for Michael. He tried his best to look down at Steven, who was smiling and giggling. When his crotch grazed against Steven's diaper, Michael realized that he would have to take the diaper off before having sexual intercourse. He studied the diaper, and tried to figure out the best way to remove it. He saw two pairs of blue-colored tapes on opposite sides. One by one, he removed them, and tried so carefully to remove the diaper from underneath Steven, who was content just watching his partner experiment.

"There's a first time for everything," Steven commented.

"This is just dress rehearsal for when I have kids," Michael joked. "That's what I keep telling myself."

"Well, you're doing good so far."

"You didn't shit yourself, did you?" asked Michael nervously.

"No, no. You lucked out!"

Michael removed the diaper and tossed it onto the floor.

"Wait! Put it in the bin over there by the door," said Steven as he pointed to a metallic-looking diaper pail in the room. Michael grunted, slid off the bed, and picked up the dirty diaper. When he opened the pail lid, he saw a pile of soiled diapers, and the pail was almost at maximum capacity. Michael turned away before he could gag, and threw the diaper in. He heard Steven chuckling from the bed.

"You're a serial offender, aren't you?" Michael cackled.

"It's a medical condition."

"Bullshit, it's not a medical condition." Michael crawled onto the bed again.

"It totally is!"

"Nah. You're just being lazy."

Steven laughed and rolled his eyes. "Oh please..."

Michael looked at Steven, who was laying naked on his back. "I gotta tell you that this, right here, is one of the strangest transitions to sex I've ever experienced," said Michael dryly.

Steven pulled Michael closer to his body. "Get used to it," countered Steven with a smile. Both men rolled toward the pillows, kissing each other. The rest of the night went as expected. The uniqueness of the situation aroused Michael. He enjoyed the spontaneity, and liked that Steven was interested in something that he could relate to. Meanwhile, Steven appreciated that Michael was so accepting of his fetish. He was concerned that Michael would run away, never to return again -- just like the others before him. Michael was different, but he was also mysterious. Steven wondered why Michael was so accepting of his fetish. There wasn't much resistance, and that piqued Steven's curiosity.

-2-

Morning came suddenly for Michael. It was seven, and he laid in bed, half-awake. He rubbed his eyes, yawned and stretched his arms. Before he could reconsider going back to sleep, he could hear Steven whistling from the kitchen. Michael could smell the masculine scent of bacon that blanketed over the apartment. This motivated him to roll out of bed and walk toward the source of the alluring scent. Standing in his boxers, Michael stood in the doorway of the kitchen and waved to Steven, who was making bacon and eggs. Michael looked at Steven's waist, and saw that he was wearing a clean diaper -- so last night was something that wasn't a dream. Steven crinkled around the kitchen, looking for additional spices and herbs to put in his eggs. Steven, who had a strong penchant for cooking, was happily preoccupied with meal preparation. Michael wdecided to take the opportunity to wander around the house and look around.

Michael walked into the living room and flopped onto the couch. He found the remote for the large television, and turned it on. He watched an episode of Tom & Jerry, a cartoon he hadn't seen since he was 12. He took a very pleasant sigh and watched the cartoon as if he saw Tom & Jerry for the very first time. He chuckled and smiled, though he was fighting the temptation to turn on the news, and keep current. When the cartoon went into commercial break, he conviently placed the remote away on an end table adjacent to the couch so he wouldn't turn on CNN. After staying at Steven's apartment overnight, watching Saturday morning cartoons suddenly became more appealing. It was like a voice, in his head, spoke to him and said, "It's alright. Go ahead. Be who you want to be."

"Ready for some bacon?" Steven shouted from the kitchen.

"Oink!" replied Michael in the affirmative. Steven laughed.

The basket of toys interested Michael. He got up from the couch, and walked over to it. He looked down and picked up an action figure. It was an action figure of a male soldier who looked like he was ready to take on the world. Then Michael dug deeper into the basket, and pulled out a large, green-colored Tyrannosaurus toy. The largest land carnivore -- to ever roam the Earth -- looked ironically cheerful, and less menacing. But in his mind, Michael turned the dinosaur into an unstoppable villain that destroyed everything that got in his way. The soldier lifted his heavy assault rifle and fired several shots at the Tyrannosaurus, but was unsuccessful in defeating the giant prehistoric beast. The soldier threw a grenade that took out the dinosaur's feet, causing him to fall onto the colorful jigsaw puzzle floor with a large kaboom. The soldier climbed on top of the defeated monster, and yelled, "Victory!" while firing his gun in the air. He laughed heartily as he was overwhelmed with adrenaline-coated joy.

Suddenly, the battlegrounds was filled with the delicious aroma of bacon. A voice could be heard from the distance, "Breakfast is ready!" and the war was over.

Michael stood up from the floor and walked to the kitchen and sat down at the small table. Steven served him two eggs over medium with bacon strips, hash browns, and an english muffin. Steven sat down and smiled as he watched his date eat. Michael clapped his hands together and bowed at Steven. He told Steven thinks as he shoveled food in his mouth. Steven sighed happily, nodded, and took a sip of orange juice.

"So, how do you like breakfast?" asked Steven.

"It's just as good as the sex," joked Michael.

"Is that a compliment?"

"I don't know. You tell me," the comedian cackled.

"Ah... I see you smiling." Steven pointed at Michael's face.

"Poker faces are one of the hardest faces to make, let me tell you."

"So, after you enjoy breakfast, would you like to play around?"

"Nice, Steve! You cut right to the chase. I like that! Sure, why not?"

Steven leaned over the table, placed his hand under his chin and smiled devilishly at Michael. When he realized that he didn't know what he actually agreed to, Michael's eyes opened wide, and looked around the kitchen sheepishly.

Having your diaper changed, as an adult, was not common practice: that's what Michael was led to believe as he laid half-naked on the living room floor. Steven slipped the back of a disposable diaper underneath Michael's rear. Feeling the soft and cushy interior graze against his cheeks, Michael felt relaxed. It felt surprisingly comfortable and assuring. It was the same feeling that he's experienced when reuniting with an old friend. He could hear the diaper crinkling loudly, which was refreshing to his ears. When he pushed his body weight down on the diaper, the diaper felt like it was "hugging" him. Michael watched carefully as Steven applied the adhesive tapes, which connected the wings to the back of the diaper.

"You're not objecting to any of this. I'm surprised," Steven muttered.

"Don't worry. I'll get liquored up later and forget all about it."

Steven laughed. "If it bothered you that much, you wouldn't do any of this, right?"

When he was finished with his diapering, Michael pulled up the crinkly, elastic waistband up so it sat underneath his belly button. When he moved his diaper up, he felt his member brush gently against the feathery-like, soft interior. Michael felt like he was rolling around on a thick cloud. He felt secure. Slowly, Michael rose from bed and walked around the bedroom with a waddle. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. Each footstep caused the crinkling. He walked over to a nearby floor mirror, stood in front of it, and felt a sudden charge of sexual energy spread all over his body. He looked down at his crotch and admired the baby print designs that covered the front of his diaper: stars, teddy bears, balloons, bicycles, and planets.

"Oh, for the love of... it's happening!" Steven squealed as he sat upright in bed, and made a sour facial expression.

Concerned, Michael turned around and walked hastily over to Steven, who looked like he was in pain. "What's going on? Tell me!"

"Hold your nose. Now!"

Steven let out a noisy fart. For the next thirty seconds, Steven relaxed his muscles, took a deep breath, and rubbed his forehead. Michael smelled the end result. He resisted the temptation to tell a joke. He realized that Steven was telling the truth about having a medical condition. Steven didn't look like he particularly enjoyed the experience of soiling himself, but now that he fully relieved himself, he felt better. Nevertheless, Michael found it cute -- and yet very stimulating -- to see someone acting out of desperation. He was sympathetic but aroused. He tried to not leave the impression to Steven that he was somehow exploiting Steven's misery.

"Oh my God, you pooped!" said Michael.

"I pooped," Steven hesitantly admitted.

"It's ironic because you put a clean diaper on me right before you --"

"I know, I know," Steven grumbled.

"Good thing you were wearing. I'll let you... change out of that."

Michael waddled out of the bedroom. He closed the bedroom door behind him, and paced around the living room. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. He knew that he had to return to his apartment soon, and relax for a while by himself. He needed to think more clearly, but he wasn't able to do so at Steven's place. However, there was something that kept him from leaving. Michael felt magnetically attracted to the positive, youthful atmosphere around him -- and that led him to feel unrestrained. He knew that he had to go to work for his evening shift at the local Verizon store, but that was several hours away. He laid back on the couch and closed his eyes, wondering what life would be like if he could be a kid again.

He imagined himself dressed in a blue demin playsuit, being escorted to a movie theater to watch The Muppets. He imagined sitting in a big theater seat with a large bag of buttery popcorn. There was no care in the world. And when the movie was over, he left the theater and wandered around the city, looking for the nearest candy shop. Once in a while, Michael enjoyed treating himself to marshmallow smores, candy corn, and caramel chews. After dining on a variety of delicious candy, he imagined himself being placed in the car on a child safety seat, and driven home when he would surround himself with toys and stuffed animals. When he woke from his nap, he opened his eyes and saw Steven petting his head gently.

"Was I asleep?" asked Michael.

"For a while, yeah. Not a problem."

"You smell good..." Michael muttered a compliment.

"Thanks! Took a shower about an hour ago."

"Wait, what time is it?" Michael looked at his watch. It was four in the afternoon. Michael rolled off the couch and stood up. "Yikes, I have to get going."

"Where to?" Steven asked.

"Work."

"Oh, I thought all amateur stand-up comedians were unemployed," Steven joked.

"And I thought ther was no such thing as an adult baby."

Steven laughed, patted Michael on the back, and bid him farewell. Michael hurriedly pulled up his pants and discovered that the task was more difficult than usual because of his diaper. He slowed down for a moment, and pulled his underwear over his diaper -- which reduced the crinkling noise. He pulled his pants slowly over the diaper, and adjusted his belt. The diaper produced a very dramatic-looking, bulbous shape around his waist. He looked down at it and chuckled. Suddenly, he felt a cold shiver going down his back; it was anxiety creeping around his spine. He was going out in public wearing a diaper, and he was concerned that others would notice him. Once he was done getting dressed, he left Steven's apartment and slowly walked toward his car. He pretended to show confidence as if nothing was different about him, but when he got into his car, he took a sigh of relief.

[magickitty]

interesting :-)

[Menaiya]

Strong and interesting start. Not the usual opening.

[Horndog]

Thanks. New chapters should be done when they're done (soon!).

[pampywamp]

glad to hear your continuing look forward

[Horndog]

-3-

Michael flipped the light switch in his apartment living room and flopped on the sofa. While laying down, he looked at the ceiling and imagined that there were glow-in-the-dark star stickers overhead. He shook his head and tried to let his mind clear. He moved around on the couch and felt the diaper, which remained clean. He wasn't used to wearing something so thick around his waist, but it was something he could get used to.

His smartphone rang suddenly. Started by the ringing, he scrambled to sit up and dug through his pocket to retrieve it. He looked at the smartphone screen. "Work" was calling. He answered.

"Hey, what's up?" said Michael.

"This is Brad. I was wondering if you can cover my shift tonight."

"Kinda short notice there, Brad."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, actually. I'm on my shift now, but I need to clock out an hour early. Something came up. Sorry!"

Michael sighed. "Alright, but you owe me one."

Dressed in his work uniform, Michael arrived at the Verizon store, looking well-groomed and prepared. However, he was still wearing a diaper, and he was starting to feel uncomfortable. He stayed behind the counter, and tried to look busy. He smiled and greeted all the customers who were walking in. It was nearing Christmas so there was more foot traffic and sales than usual. He occasionally stepped away from the counter to help customers on the floor. Once in a while, he could feel his bladder throbbing. He realized that his last visit to tbe bathroom was early in the morning, and it was already evening. Since he was the only customer representative working the floor, he couldn't take a 15-minute break until help arrived -- and his accompanying worker, Jeff, was supposed to arrive ten minutes after Michael clocked into his shift. Jeff was nowhere to be found.

Michael suddenly realized, "Oh, right! I have a diaper now," but he was too shy to wet his diaper in public -- and since his bladder was full, it was likely that he was going to wet it significantly. There were changes of the diaper leaking. Michael looked up at the surveillance camera in the corner of the store. The camera was trained on him. He didn't want to act suspiciously or bring attention to himself. He chose to stand behind the counter and work on repairing some phones that he received from a customer earlier. He looked down at the counter, and tried to not think about wetting. "It'll pass. Just be careful, Michael," he thought. "Don't act like someone who about to relieve himself in front of twenty or so customers. Look busy, for pete's sake."

As he worked on repairing phones behind the counter, Michael was approached by a woman who said in a loud voice, "Excuse me, sir." Michael was spooked enough to start wetting his diaper.

"One second please," said Michael as he closed his eyes and sucked on his lower lip. He felt his diaper getting warmer, heavier, and on the brink of leaking. He opened his eyes and rolled them around, hoping that he wasn't going to leak. After about a minute, he finally stopped, and his diaper was hanging very low. He was about to whistle innocently, but the woman was staring at him, looking confused.

"Is everything alright?" the woman asked him.

"I am absolutely dandy. What can I help you with?"

"Can I have a key to the restroom?"

Michael took out the bathroom key from a drawer behind the counter and handed it to her. When the woman left to use the restroom, Jeff entered the store, and opened up his register beside Michael. Jeff -- who was slightly overweight, riddled with acne, and messy blonde hair -- entered his password on the computer above his cash register and logged in. Michael gave his worker underling a disapproving glare. When the woman left the restroom, Michael swiped the key from her, and headed straight toward the restroom.

"Asshole," Michael muttered to Jeff. Jeff looked up, not knowing why Michael cursed at him.

Standing in the restroom, Michael quickly unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and let them drop to the floor. After removing his underwear, he looked down at his diaper. It was wet, dark and yellow. Michael felt good, but didn't have enough time to savor a quiet moment after he heard a light tapping at the door. Outside the restroom, Jeff called out to Michael and asked him to "remove an item for me on the register-thingy-whatever."

"I'm coming!"

Instead of unfastening the tapes, Michael pulled the diaper down, and folded it in half. He tried to fold it into quarters, but the wet diaper was so thick, he was able to fold it completely. He tried rolling the diaper into a ball and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. He took some toilet paper and covered the diaper with it so it wasn't easily visible from the garbage can. He washed his hands quickly with his pants down. He tried opening the door while pulling his pants up with his other hand. He quickly fastened his belt and rushed out of the bathroom to assist Jeff.

After he wet himself, Michael was deterred from thinking about diapers for the rest of the night. He felt that he made a mistake in not using his bathroom before he left for work. Still, though, the diaper saved him from experiencing a dangerously awkward situation. He felt lighter and more mobile. Jeff noticed that his fellow employee was a lot more animated and lively than before. He studied Michael for a few minutes before a customer approached him, asking for help.

Michael closed the shop at ten and prepared the nightly cash audit. He sat in the office behind the retail space, and countered the cash from his register. With his eyelids slowly closing, Michael yawned and stretched his arms. When he was done counting his tender, he looked at the surveillance footage that was playing on a television set beside him. He moved away from the office desk, and moved his chair toward the television. He put the surveillance tape in rewind to the moment when he wet himself. On the video, Michael appeared, looking stoical and frozen behind the counter. Michael raised a hand over his eyes and shook his head, feeling humiliated. Fortunately, only he was aware of what really happened.

On his way home, Michael took a different route, which passed by Steven's apartment. Michael pulled his car in front of Steven's apartment complex, and got out. He knocked on Steven's door and rang his doorbell. Once he opened the door, a normally dressed Steven saw a man who looked drained, and was about to melt to the ground. Steven invited Michael inside, and Michael accepted. After dragging his feet into the living room, Michael sat on the couch and looked down at the floor with his hands holding up his forehead.

"How do you do it, Jeff?" asked Michael.

"Who's Jeff?"

Michael corrected himself and rubbed his forehead. "No, no. Steven, sorry. Shit. Got this headache. Jeff is someone I work with. He doesn't know that I wet at work today."

Steven sat beside Michael. "You did what?" He was in disbelief.

"I was diapered... I screwed up."

"What do you mean, 'screwed up'? If nobody noticed, what's the problem?" Steven massaged Michael's shoulders.

"It was just weird. I would be lying to you if I said that I didn't enjoy it, but -- I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"If it bothers you that much, don't diaper up when you go to work. You don't have to be in the 'baby' mindset twenty four-seven. You have your work, you have your responsibilities... and when you have the time to unwind, do what you want to do."

"Thanks. Just wanted to see if I could try, I guess."

"Don't push yourself. Maybe it's not time to make a change. Just relax, take it easy. You're still young. That's your fault. There's so much you need to know."

Michael looked up at Steven inquisitively, and tilted his head like a curious dog. "Did you go Cat Stevens on me just now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Steven, trying to maintain a neutral facial expression without smiling.

"No, no. You totally ran me over with the freakin' 'Peace Train.'"

Steven teasingly poked Michael's chest. "Guilty as charged." Steven kissed the side of Michael's side and chuckled.

Michael leaned his head back and sighed happily. "You're witty. You're younger than me, and yet you figured it all out, haven't you?"

"Don't try to be a baby at work. Keep that part of you at home. It's that simple, really."

Michael rubbed Steven's head, stood up, and wished him good night. He left Steven's apartment, feeling that his conscience was more steady than earlier. He had to come to terms with his interest in the "adult baby" lifestyle. His foray into that lifestyle resulted in some personally humiliating events, but he later reflected on those moments as something he could learn from. However, he was slowly disconnecting from the importance of being an adult. He understood what it took to be responsible. The tedium of responsibility was wearing thin on his conscience, and he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and live a life without the hassles of everyday life. At the time, he understood the consequences of making that choice -- but he didn't want to live and die as a man who took no risks. As he walked into his apartment later that night, all he could think about was sleep, and sleep overruled everything else.

He dreamed about laying on his back in a crib. Dressed in a bright pastel blue-colored onesie, Michael laid on a very comfortable pillow. He spent his time sucking on a pacifier and feeling the warmth of the sun as it shined through the windows in his bedroom. In his dream, Michael was an infant, but an infant with adult sensibilities. He sat up in his crib and grabbed onto its bars. He shook the bars as a sign that he wanted to leave his crib. He cried for his mommy, but mommy was nowhere to be found. He shouted for his daddy, but there was no sign of anyone else in the house. The room was quiet. Too quiet. When he looked around his bedroom some more, he noticed that the bedroom door swung over. Several dark silhouettes walked into the room, speaking in low-pitch grumbles and cackles. Michael squinted a little to see who the dark figures were. The lights in the bedroom were suddenly turned on. Standing before him was his mother, his father, his brother Paul, a random assortment of friends over the years, and Steven. All of them stared at Michael angrily with their arms crossed and their feet tapping impatiently on the floor.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Michael?" asked his father sternly.

Michael was unable to speak. He could only observe.

"I didn't raise my son to be a giant baby-freak," his father snapped.

Paul pointed at Michael and said to him, "What are you going to do for the rest of your life, Mike? Suck on that pacifier? Now you're some washed up comedian who sells cell phones. Jesus Christ, Mike. What is wrong with you?"

"I was looking forward to having grandchildren -- but you just want to stay like a child. How disappointing," said his mother.

"Guess it's not your thing," added Steven. "At least I'm responsible."

Michael's father removed his belt from his pants, and snapped it in front of him. "I'm going to show you responsibility, even if I have to beat it into you!" When his father charged at him, everything went dark. The nightmare was over.

Michael woke up in a cold sweat. He laid in bed, grabbing onto the sheets as if he was riding on something fierce. He checked out the alarm clock located by the side of his bed. 3:29 AM. He could feel his heart beating quickly. He looked around his dark bedroom, seeking assurance that the nightmare wasn't real. He tried calming down by having a conversation with himself.

"I'm a man. I understand that," he spoke in a faint whisper. He got out of bed and wandered over to his dresser, which had several photos of his family. He held up a photo of his father, smiling while posing with 9-year-old Michael in a baseball uniform. "Growing up was like a blur. I remember being a child, but the most I could remember from my childhood were the fighting and the yelling. The bad things... and... Mom would sing me lullabies just to calm me down afterwards. She told me, 'Everything is going to be OK,' but I didn't believe it. I couldn't. All I wanted was to grow up so I could defend myself, stand by myself, and be who I wanted to be. All that wishing to be a grown-up caused me to grow up faster, and forget cherishing the moments I had when I was younger.

"When anyone asked me how I came to be, and why I do what I do, I joked about it. People laughed. I felt good when I made others laugh, but... I've always been the punchline. That, in itself, was the punchline." Michael chuckled softly. "Wow, dad. Could you ever forgive me? Oh well... I tried. Good night, dad."

He sighed heavily, put the photo back on the dresser, and went back to bed.

-4-

eBay had several auction listings of adult baby products, Michael discovered. He browsed the web site on his laptop as he drank coffee in his living room. It was ten in the morning, and he woke up with the appetite to find out more about "adult babies." He discovered that there were several manufacturers that designed clothing, diapers, and accessories specifically for those who indulged in that lifestyle. There was a subculture that he never noticed before. He fantasized about all the possibilities, which seemed limitless.

That morning, he woke up with determination: he was not going to undermine his adulthood for the sake of satisfying a life he wished that he had. That life was not going to consume him -- and yet, being in a regressed state helped him cope with his inner-demons and everyday life. It took him years to discover his personal catharsis. He wasn't going to let it go. Not now. He decided to purchase some supplies online, which included a bag of disposable diapers, booster pads, a pair of onesies (one blue, one pink), and a Netflix subscription for all those Rugrats movies that he wanted to watch on DVD.

Since he had the day off, Michael invited Steven to his apartment, and showed him around. Unlike Steven's apartment, Michael's place looked very normal, sterile, and organized. There was nothing out of the ordinary except for the music streaming from his laptop in the kitchen, which was playing Cat Stevens songs.

"You're not going to surprise-poop me again, are you?" joked Michael as he wrapped his arm around Steven. Both men sat on Michael's small sofa in the living room.

"Well, y'know, I could wrap it up, put a big red bow on it if you like."

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Michael gave Steven a small peck on the lips. "It's all your fault, you know."

"What is?"

"I bought some things... some 'stuff.'"

"Sounds like you're really into it, huh?"

Michael nodded. "Well, I wouldn't say 'into it,' but it's something to have fun with once in a while." He shrugged.

"I think you'd look cute in pajamas," said Steven, who nuzzled his head against Michael's.

"Damn. I forgot to order that!" Michael cursed, snapping his finger with sarcastic angst.

Steven chuckled. "You shouldn't do things to please me. You should do it for you, on your own terms. Then again, I don't mind having another playmate around." Steven kissed Michael on the cheek. "Hey, you mind if I take you somewhere?"

"Don't mind it at all. I'll grab the keys. Where to?"

Michael and Steven sat together in a sandbox at a vacated playground. The playground was located in an elementary school that was fenced off, but kept fairly tidy. School was on break, and nobody else was on campus. Both men were eating sub sandwiches on paper plates. They sat in the sand, looking out at a pair of outdoor basketball courts. The torn, worn-out basketball nets were swinging in the breeze as laughter from children could be heard in the distance. Around the school were several cars whizzing by. It seemed like Michael and Steven were placed in a bubble that time forgot, and the coordinated, outside world was moving around them.

"Marentini's, right?" asked Michael as he pointed to his sandwich.

"Yep. They make the best Italian cold cut sandwiches in Los Angeles."

"The only thing missing is some apple juice in a sippy cup," said Michael.

Steven laughed, and took a bite from his sandwich. "I would never imagine the day when I could sit together with someone in a school playground, eating sandwiches. Everyone else would think, 'Ew, an adult baby hanging around in a playground? Pedophile alert!'"

"You're a fan of Michael Jackson?" asked Michael.

"Of course!"

"Then I'll refrain from making any relevant jokes."

Steven began to wiggle around in the sandbox while singing "Billy Jean" softly to himself. Michael looked over at Steve and gave a warm smile. When he noticed that Michael was staring at him, Steven smiled, blushed and tilted his head down. Michael applauded.

"My God, that's adorable," Michael complimented.

"You think?"

"Of course! Your mood seems to have improved since we got here."

"Yeah, well... I used to go to school here from kindergarten to fourth grade. I loved playing on playground, swinging on the swings, going down the slide head first and torpedo straight into the sand. Sometimes, I'd yell, 'Kamikaze!' while going down the slide. Later, I found out what it meant. I was wondering why my Japanese principle looked at me with disgust when she passed by this place."

"Wow," Michael whispered.

"Actually, after I graduated from elementary school, I kept coming back here to play in the playground -- but only when the kids were out of school or on weekends. I kept playing around until I was 16. That's when I grew out of the equipment, and could no longer fit on the swing."

"So in other words, you got fat," Michael joked.

"No, I just grew. It was like my body was growing, but my mind didn't want to. At one point, I was like, 'Whatever,' and accepted it. Until I went to college, I just sat in the sandbox, building mountains and sand castles. The ants were thankful. Then I realized they were backstabbers because they tried eating my sandwiches when I wasn't looking."

"Tough crowd."

Steven finished his sandwich and looked at the clouds in the sky as they passed overhead. Michael looked up as well and observed the serenity above. Both could hear the birds chirping, singing, and leaping from branch to branch in trees behind the playground. The rays of the sun provided enough warmth to keep the two men cozy. The weather was admirable.

Michael rubbed Steven's hair and caressed the side of his face. He pulled Steven closer to him. Steven, in turn, rested his head beside Michael's, and continued to sing "Billy Jean" softly.

"You're a good catch," Michael admitted.

Steven's cheeks turned rosy. "So are you!"

"I'm still not going to change you, though." Michael lifted his nose for a sniff. "Gag reflex. Still working on it."

"We should get back..."

"Yep."

Michael felt a transformation slowly taking place. He succeeded in deriving fun from enjoying life with child-like simplicity. He felt comfortable sitting in a playground sandbox. Normally, adults would find themselves in a more authoritative role, such as supervising their children from a distance -- except with Michael, he preferred to be the one playing, riding on the swings, and sliding down the slides. He was entrenched in the philosophy that he could -- at least temporarily -- suspend his adulthood for periods of time and find enjoyment from doing things that he used to do when he was a child. There was no universal rule that he couldn't revisit that innocence. At the same time, he felt that he needed a lot of courage to take that step, and be the child that he wasn't able to be. With Steven by his side, he felt like he was capable of anything, and escaping to places -- in his mind -- that he wasn't able to ever explore before.

There was a revolution building inside of him, which was brimming with confidence. Yet there was something foreboding about it all; it was like a risk that can only be pushed so far before the risk consumes everything. Michael had to constantly remind himself that the "adult baby" lifestyle was merely a hobby, and nothing more. Still, he wanted to keep pushing the envelope just to see what his limits were.

A week later, Michael received several packages in the mail. Again, Michael was pulled deeper into his regression hobby when he laid his eyes on the contents inside. He tried on his onesie in the bedroom. It looked very playful. The 100% cotton onesie was a bright blue color, featuring a pattern of teddy bears. The second onesie was pink. It had the same overall look except it had rainbows randomly scattered around it. Each onesie was short-sleeved with a round neck collar. Both felt soft, thick and cozy. He wanted to wear these onesies all day. He couldn't stand the feeling of wearing what he called "formal adult clothes." The onesies felt simple and allowed him a lot of flexibility.

Then he tried the diapers. Instead of purchasing diapers with a more baby-ish design, Michael chose to buy plain white disposable diapers that were thick, durable, and very absorbent. This time, he decided to reduce his diaper-wearing to his apartment and Steven's. He experimented with putting his own diapers on, but it was challenging at first. He didn't correctly apply the tapes, and he had to redo them at the cost of tearing the adhesive strips off by accident. Frustrated, he wrapped the waist of his diaper with duct tape so everything held together, including the boosters that he added. Steven previously suggested that he also wore boosters. He felt very comfortable wearing diapers, though at times he got aroused just thinking about the fact that he was. For the sake of his sanity, he referred to them as "underwear."

After having a few drinks, Michael downloaded onto his laptop "One Time Rock and Roll" by Bob Seger and reenacted his favorite scene from the movie, "Risky Business." As the song played, he stood patiently in a corner of his living room, waiting for his cue. Dressed in his blue onesie, Michael tried sliding on the hardwood floor in the living room, but ended up loosing his footing and falling onto the floor with a loud thump. The diaper helped break his fall, and left him uninjured. He kicked his sock-covered feet in the air and laughed hysterically. He never displayed such a wider smile. He closed his eyes and continued to wiggle his body to the beat of the song.

Michael was becoming a baby, and there was no stopping it.

[Horndog]

-5-

Steven was a seasoned veteran of Starbucks. He was very professional and courteous to his customers. Customers referred to him as "Stevie," and he had a very appealing sense of humor. Women were attracted to his charm, but when they made an attempt to connect with him, Steven would politely decline with a "no thanks" and a friendly smile. Sometimes he would come up with an excuse, like he was busy and had "no time to go on dates, or anything like that." People were attracted to his upbeat personality. His fellow employees were also impressed with his charisma and charm.

Almost a year ago, Steven applied for the barista position because he was looking for a way to pay off his student loans. His parents, who ran a small thrift store in Venice, California, were able to help contribute to eliminating the looming expenses of college -- just enough so that Steven could pay for his monthly rent. Should anyone else try to help Steven with his personal finances, he would immediately decline their offers. What his family and friends didn't know was that he invested hundreds of dollars in his lifestyle. The lifestyle he chose for himself was originally meant to reduce his stress levels, which he was successful in accomplishing -- but now the stress was coming back to haunt him because of his investment.

On a busy Tuesday morning, Steven brought to work a name tag stickered on his chest with the name "Stevie." He felt that it was the least he could do to come to terms with his lifestyle choice. In an ideal situation, he would come to work, bring his pacifier, and suck on it when he encountered a stressful situation. Since he was able to maintain his composure at work, there was no need to indulge. "Stevie" was the perfect compromise.

"What's up, Stevie?" said the manager as Steven put on his green apron and entered his workspace.

"Not much, really. Started dating again. Think I found a keeper," replied Steven, who was cleaning the blenders, and making sure all the working materials were in their rightful place.

"Who's the lucky lady?"

Steven bit his lip, looked up to the ceiling in search for a politically correct answer. "Not telling," said Steven, sticking his tongue out at the manager.

"You think I'm going to slip her my number or something?" Ryan shook his head and started sweeping the floor.

"Have you ever heard of the rule for dating? 'Never give out the name of your date until you know she's yours.'"

"I've never heard of that rule before. Fine, be that way. All the ladies come to me anyway. I'm so irresistable! I got some James Dean swagger going on."

Steven laughed. "You look nothing like James Dean. Besides, he's cuter than you."

"What?!" said Ryan in disbelief. Before he could say anything else, Steven was tending to a customer.

Steven grinned when he saw the customer. His heart skipped a beat. He obviously recognized the customer. Dressed in a black blazer, maroon-colored t-shirt, and blue jeans, Michael appeared. He looked at the menu and tried pronouncing all the uniquely named cup sizes. "Grande... Venti... Trenta... This place is starting to sound more like a pizzeria than a coffee house. Sir, do you serve pizza here?" Michael asked Steven.

Steven leaned over the counter and wiggled his nose at Michael. "No, sir."

Playfully ignoring Steven's answer, Michael told him, "You have to serve pizza now. If you have Italian names for sizes, then you need to start serving Italian food, sir."

"We have Chipotle Chicken Wraps, sir."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better, sir."

"No, Chipotle is Mexican, sir."

"Damn you!" Michael looked over his shoulder and noticed a line was forming. "OK... small decaf."

"I'll give you a call when I'm done working, okay?" Steven mouthed to Michael as the chatter noise inside Starbucks increased. Michael nodded, smiled, and walked away with his hands in his pockets. Michael gave Steven a $10 bill, and told him to keep the change.

Steven patiently counted down the hours before his shift was over. Seeing Michael in the morning reignited his resolve to get things done. He believed that the amount of work contributed in a day correlated to the quickness of time. Time seemed to move faster when he was involved in several simultaneous tasks. Unlike Michael, Steven was obsessively diligent when it came to getting things done, but he was rarely rewarded for it -- and because of that, Steven's exasperation was slowly building inside of him.

The moment he arrived home, he changed out of his work clothes and into his "normal" attire. He put on his vintage "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" green t-shirt and a diaper. He walked into the living room and saw that it was a mess. He cleaned up the toys and rubber balls scattered all over the floor. He put away the colorful jigsaw puzzle floor, placed all the pieces in his closet, and sat down on his couch. He looked at his hand, expanded it, and contracted it into a tight fist. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, which was now clean. He tried to find something else to do, but nothing came to mind. The pent-up adrenaline from work continued to race through his body while he tried to discover ways to eliminate his boredom. On a whim, he pulled out his iPhone from his shorts pocket, and called Michael. The phone rang several times, and it went into Michael's voicemail.

"You've reached Michael Cole," said Michael in his voicemail message. "Michael Cole is unavailable at the moment. Michael Cole prefers to speak in third-person when recording voicemail messages because it makes Michael Cole sound smart." Beep!

"Hi Mike, this is Steve. Just wanted to check in with you, and see how --"

Suddenly, Steven heard a knocking on his door. While sitting on the couch, Steven turned around and faced the door. Knock, knock, knock. Steven slowly got up from the couch, sneaked over to the door and looked through the peephole. He saw Michael, dressed in his pink onesie, standing outside in the cold. Steven muttered, "Jesus!" to himself angrily as he opened the door.

"What are you doing, dressed like that outside, Mike?" Steven blurted.

"Surprise!"

Steven yanked on Michael's arm and pulled him inside. He shut the door, locked it, leaned his back against it with his arms crossed. "What could possibly be going through your mind that would justify going out in public dressed like that?"

"Relax. I told people I was going to a costume party."

"Come on, Mike. Don't let this all go to your head," Steven snapped.

Michael calmly walked around the living room and chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"The look on your face when you saw me." Michael did an impersonation of Steven with his eyes wide open, nose pointed up, and his jaw dropped down. Steven raised a hand to his mouth, closed his eyes, and shook his head.

"That wasn't funny," said Steven as the anger disappeared from his tone. Suddenly, he caught a whiff of alcohol from Michael's breath. "You've been drinking, haven't you?"

Michael raised an index finger up to Steven's lips. "Shhhhhhhh. The magic juice is letting me act stupid."

Steven cracked a smile. "You're trouble!"

Steven led Michael into the bedroom and asked him to lay down. Steven turned on the bedroom television with his remote and watched Spongebob Squarepants with Michael, who looked comatose as he sat motionless, watching the show. His eyes were fixated on the glowing screen. Steven adjusted the pillows behind Michael, and raised them closer to his head so he could be more comfortable. Michael thanked Steven and sighed happily. Steven snuggled up against Michael and rubbed his chest. The physical contact slowly began to arouse Steven. He wanted to play around with Michael, but Michael appeared wooden and mostly unresponsive.

Maybe using his diapered crotch as a foot stool would do the trick, Steven thought. He rested his legs on top of Michael's thickly padded waist. He heard Michael grumble, and let out a very pleasant-sounding sigh. Michael curled his toes, tilted to his side, and faced Steven.

"You complete me... Spongebob," Michael muttered. He grinned and rubbed Steven's chin stubble.

Steven noticed that Michael's lips were dripping wet. "Honey, you're drooling." Steven took his thumb and wiped Michael's lips with it.

Michael reached for the remote and started pressing buttons randomly. He turned the volume up to its loudest setting, just at the moment when Spongebob was screaming. After covering his ears for a few seconds, Steven yanked the remote away from Michael and set it on the end table beside the bed. "This is going to be a long night," Steven said to himself.

"I know this is a loaded question, but when was the last time you changed your diaper? Pun intended," Steven asked Michael.

"What diaper?"

Steven rolled his eyes. He removed the three bottom snaps around Michael's crotch, and checked to see the state of his diaper out of curiosity. The diaper was obviously wet. It looked like it was soaked to the point that its exterior was damp. Michael had put the diaper on much earlier in the day, and the appearance of the diaper led Steven to making that observation. To Steven's surprise, the diaper was also messy -- but he wasn't able to smell it earlier. Steven decided to change Michael, though he was hoping for vice versa. He didn't mind changing him, but he wanted it to be a mutual affair; Michael was still uneager to change Steven.

It was midnight, and Steven was exhausted. He changed Michael slowly. He applied the baby wipes, and lovingly rubbed his bottom. He brought out the baby powder and sprinkled it over Michael's crotch. He took his fingers and made the powder was thoroughly rubbed into his skin. He took out a brand new diaper and carefully applied it on. He made sure the tapes were nice and tight. By the time he was done, Steven sat at the corner of his bed, and watched Michael drift to sleep. Steven painstakingly moved his sheets over Michael's body, and tucked him in. He kissed Michael on the forehead, brushed his hair away from his forehead, and walked into his bathroom.

He turned on the bathroom lights and looked at himself in the mirror. He drummed his fingers on the bathroom sink counter and rubbed his chin. He turned on the sink, ran some water until it got hot, and he splashed his face with it. For the first time since he graduated from college, Steven was overwhelmed.

There was no doubt that he was in love with Michael, but he could not visualize maintaining the "adult baby" lifestyle regularly. Michael relied extensively on Steven to show him what it took to be a "baby." Steven was starting to believe that he created a monster, or in this case, a big baby-monster who was limiting himself to being pampered and not being the one doing the pampering. Steven slapped himself across the face in the bathroom as a reminder that he was thinking selfishly; that he shouldn't expect someone, who just discovered the lifestyle, to be so accommodating. Still, Steven felt that Michael was transforming into a person that was willfully relinquishing his independence for the sake of living out his childhood.

Then Steven looked at himself, and spent some time being introspective as he laid in bed with his eyes closed. He thought about how being an "adult baby" had become a big part of his life. It became such an influential element of his core that it took a monumental effort to hide it from the rest of the world. When he was a freshmen in college, he dreamed about wearing baby clothes and playing with toys unapologetically, and flaunting his lifestyle for all the moralists and the intolerant, snot-nosed kids who couldn't stand someone being different than them. However, as he got older, he modified the way he lived that part of his life. When he started socializing with other adult babies and diaper lovers, that's when he was motivated to practice in moderation.

He often thought about the time he went on a road trip to San Francisco for a "munch," a low-profile social gathering for people involved in specified fetishes and sexual interests. This happened two years ago. There, Steven met several men at a gay bar who shared the same interests as him. He wasn't judgmental at first until one of the men wet his diaper so much that it leaked on the bar room floor. It was Saturday night, and the bar was crowded full of patrons. Dressed in colorful overalls, the man stood with a growing puddle by his feet, and everyone laughed at him. The munch organizers had to apologize to the bar owner on his behalf. The man insisted that he had an "accident" and drank too much. Later, he revealed that the act was completely intentional. This disappointed Steven. The combination of guilt by association and the irritation over cleaning up other people's messes soured Steven's mood that evening.

Later that night, Steven arrived at the hotel where all the munch attendees were staying. Organizers set up a party in one of the rooms, and he was invited. At that time, Steven was optimistic that the night would end on a lighter note, and he would make some friends. Instead, he watched as attendees playfully wrestled each other in diapers. Others conversed with their friends in their small cliques, and he was left to wander around the room, looking for someone to talk to. Without saying a word to anyone, he eventually left, and drove back to the hotel he was staying at. He was disappointed that there wasn't anyone that he could talk to and get to know. To Steven, many -- but not all -- of the adult babies and diaper lovers operated in a bubble of self-indulgence, and being outside of the bubble had some clear disadvantages. He hoped that Michael was not the kind of person that live the lifestyle so extensively that he failed to recognize and appreciate the feelings of those around him.

Michael passed out on Steven's bed. He went to sleep with a smile on his face, and that give Steven some much-needed comfort.

-6-

It was 9:44 AM the next morning.

"I was laid off," said Michael as he sat up in bed. He rubbed his forehead continously and felt very disoriented. Steven curled up in bed beside his friend and rubbed his soldiers.

"Sorry to hear that. In this economy, being laid off is the worst."

Michael sighed and looked down at the blanket. "I had some drinks at home. Couldn't handle it. Figured I could drive over to your place since you're like only ten minutes away. Then everything went dark. Don't even remember slipping on the onesie, or getting in the car, which is scary. I don't know how I made it here, to be honest."

"Just take it easy, alright? I'll be right back with some aspirin. That should help you with your hangover."

Steven left to retrieve two tabs of aspirin and a glass of water. While he poured water into a glass for Michael, Steven felt remorseful for scolding his friend the night before. He also felt remorseful for the negative feelings about Michael. He wanted to apologize to Michael for forming any misconceptions about him, but he held back. He knew that disclosing his earlier thoughts about him would create unnecessary conflict.

With aspirin and the water in hand, Steven set them on the end table beside his bed. Michael reached over to take the aspirin. As soon as he was done, Michael slowly rose from bed, peeled the blanket off of him and wandered to the living room. He looked around to see if he brought his normal clothes. After coming up empty, he asked Steven if he had a trenchcoat that he could borrow. Steven went through his closet, found a brown-colored trenchcoat that fit Michael perfectly. Michael subsequently put the trenchcoat on, making sure it completely covered his onesie. He opened the front door, looked back at Steven and bit his lip.

"How much of an asshole was I last night?" asked Michael.

"You called me Spongebob."

"That bad, huh?" Michael scratched the back of his head. "I like the show, though. You should take that as a compliment."

"It's alright. You were just being silly last night."

"Calling it 'silly' doesn't justify my actions. I'm sorry. Just wanted to let you know."

"Thanks. I know you got laid off and had trouble trying to cope with that, but you're not going to make these surprise visits a habit, are you?"

"No, no," said Michael, waving his hand dismissively. "Not going to happen again. By the way..."

"Yes?"

"You're more than welcome to come by my place anytime, and I'll take care of you whenever you visit."

"Is that so? Have you been working on your gag reflex lately?"

Michael chuckled. "I'm dead serious. Cross my heart, scout's honor, swear on my grandmother's grave... It's totally going to be awesome. I'll even bust out the party hats. I will change you!"

"Suuuuuure. Well, I'll see you later!" Steven ushered Michael out the door, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and bid him farewell one more time. Steven closed the door, leaned up against it, and slowly slid down to the floor with relief.

Michael walked to his car, which was -- oddly enough -- parked perfectly parallel to the curb, although there were some tire marks leading to where the car was ultimately parked. He shook his head with disapproval of his actions, and got in the car. As he drove home, Michael picked up documents that he received from his employer, which were located on the passenger seat. One of the papers was his layoff notice. When he stopped at the red light, he glossed over the documents just to see if he missed reading any important information that was enclosed.

He received his layoff notice from corporate just before he clocked out of his afternoon shift at the store the day before. He was told that the company were downsizing and that his union would work to find another available job should he decide to continue working for the company. Verizon did mention that there were some management positions that he could apply for, but he would have to relocate to the San Diego area, receive training, but remain with part-time pay and no benefits. He would be eligible for earning a significant raise in his hourly pay, but that would require him to sacrifice his time, energy, and resources for a job that he didn't want to do for the rest of his life. Most importantly, he was also falling in love with Steven, and did not want to break the momentum that he was having with him. Consequently, he had to find a way to earn enough income to keep himself financially afloat -- and he had to think fast.

By the time he arrived back at his apartment, Michael threw off the trenchcoat, sat on his couch. He decided to play around and take a break from thinking about adult matters. He went to his dining room table, fetched one of two small, bouncy black balls that was about the size of an average golfball, and bounced it down on his hardwood floor as hard as he could. As one ball bounced manically, Michael threw the other ball, and watched contently as these destructive toys wrecked havoc in his living room. He believed the chaos involving the bouncing balls was analogous to his current frustrations.

Michael was 30, and felt like he was too old to go back to college. His hair was thinning out. He felt like he wasted a lot of time, bouncing from wall to wall, job to job, boyfriend to boyfriend. When he was able to stay in one place and find some consistently in his life, Michael took on comedy. He enjoyed doing stand-up comedy when he was able to do so, but it never paid well, and he felt there was too much competition to get top billing at places like The Comedy Store and The Improv in Hollywood.

He felt hopeless, though he found solace in dressing up like a baby -- that and having a relationship with Steven. Everything else was like a giant blur, though he knew that it wasn't supposed to be. In a scenario where he was confronted about his inability to comprehend his circumstances, Michael would argue that he was in the process of finding himself again -- and everything that wasn't related to that particular process would fall by the wayside.

Suddenly, Michael had an idea.

He decided to book himself for an act at a lesser-known comedy club in Los Angeles and hoped to get back to his roots. He had enough money to cover for his rent and additional living expenses for the next two months. He wanted to take the time to polish his stand-up material. Michael sent an e-mail to Steven, informing him that he was going to perform live in a week. He wasn't sure if Steven was going to come, but he wanted to make the effort to reach out to him, and smooth any tensions that he might have created from the night before. Not often does someone show up to someone's place unannounced, drunk, incoherent, and dressed in a pink onesie with a very messy diaper.

Earlier that day, when he woke up, he realized that Steven also changed him because his diaper was dry. He felt guilty for being a burden on Steven and wanted to make it up to him in a special way.

Michael went to his bedroom, and brought out a large teddy bear -- which he purchased from a nearby toy store and set it on the living room floor -- and a diaper. He laid the bear on its back and practiced diaper changing by putting one on the bear. He named the bear "Buddy," and considered the toy to be a tool that helped him prepare for being more responsible.

"If I'm going to be 'daddy' for Steven, I have to take charge," he told himself as he diapered the bear. "Thanks for the help, Buddy. You're going to help me get laid!"

[Horndog]

-7-

Sailing on a Friday afternoon was something that Steven enjoyed very much. He needed to get away from the work, stress at home, and a conflicted conscience. He went sailing with a friend in Malibu, Roger, who was also an adult baby. Roger was straight, married with two kids, and worked in real estate development. He was very well-liked in his community because of his involvement in volunteer events and charities. He was the model citizen, and Steven looked up to the 52-year-old businessman because of his ability to balance his life and the "adult baby" lifestyle. He was, curiously enough, wearing only a red shirt, lifejacket, and a diaper during his boat ride. Dressed in a similar fashion, Steven sat in the sailboat, facing Roger's back. Roger was spinning the steering wheel happily, whistling and laughing as he sailed in waters off the Malibu shore.

"So, kiddo, you were saying that you found mister right, or you were saying that you thought you did?" asked Roger.

"He's someone who has potential. He's funny, charismatic, and accepting. I like guys who have a good sense of humor," replied Steven, who was looking toward the horizon.

"Sounds like something not worth going two miles offshore for then," Roger joked before turning around and grinning devilishly at his long-time friend.

"Well, there are concerns, though. Like... I showed him what I was into, y'know, and he took a strong likely to it -- and it's not a bad thing or anything. But that's all thet he wants to do. He's really into it. He came to my place the other night, drunk as a skunk, in a pink onesie. No, 'Hi, how are you? Let's go out for a nice dinner and a movie.' Then again, he was drunk and said he didn't know much of what was going on..."

"So you gave him a free pass then?"

"Well, no -- I... just... If he was drunk, I can cut him some slack. Okay, that's fine. But I don't want to him to think, or even subconsciously assume, that I'm going to be the caretaker in the relationship. I wanted a boyfriend, not a baby -- I mean, a 'baby' in the literal sense. I want to have it like we play together, we eat together, we change each other... that there's some sort of mutual bond in place." Steven was exasperated, but when he looked back up at Roger, he was reminded that he was talking to someone who he trusted.

Roger Howell reached out to Steven when he was 15. At the time, Steven was curious about being a baby. He had very doting parents who raised their only son like a 1970s free-spirited love child. His parents were very accepting of the fact that Steven was a late bloomer in everything he did, from potty training to learning how to ride a bicycle to learning how to tie his shoelaces. He wasn't strong-armed by his family to achieve such milestones in a timely way like most children, so he was able to expand the amount of time he could remain in a child-like state. He insisted on being called "baby" by the age of five, and when he first experienced "nap time" in first grade, he knew that he wanted to be a "baby" forever, but he didn't know how that could be accomplished.

By the time he enrolled in high school, Steven was teased for dressing in blue jean overalls and carrying out a lunchbox with Sesame Street characters on it. He was penalized regularly by his P.E. coach for taking to take mandatory showers after clash. He didn't want to undress and reveal to others that he was wearing Pull-Ups that he bought "for my little brother" at the local pharmacy. He felt obligated to live out his high school days as a straight man when he had already determined his true sexuality.

He sought advice from members on an adult baby-diaper lover message board. There, he met Roger, who was known as "Don Diaper." Roger wrote to Steven and told him to reduce the stress for himself by limiting the amount of time he was a "baby" around others. He advised Steven to focus on having a good education and career so he would be able to save enough money to rent an apartment, be independent, and be himself on his own terms. This motivated Steven, and he would go on to achieve so much with the desire to have independence. Steven maintained contact with Roger, and went to visit him often. Steven has referred to Roger as his "mentor" and "spiritual guide." Roger took a liking to Steven because of his maturity and poise. The respect was mutual.

"If you love him, you'd put your foot down and lay down some groundrules. Being an adult baby does not define who you are as a person. You can be an AB who just so happens to like psychology. What you do in the bedroom or what you do with like-minded people does not and should not be your identity -- and your partner needs to know that. My wife -- God bless her -- told me after we got married, 'Okay, look. If you're going to do this baby business, you need to get a few things straight.' And she told me that if I wanted to live the lifestyle twenty-four seven, I would have to respect her space and she'd respect mine. If she didn't want to be the 'mommy' helping out her 'babyboy,' that was fine. Eventually, the lifestyle became something that she enjoyed, and she now insists -- for crying out loud -- that I call her 'mommy.' Not Jean. 'Mommy.' It all worked out for the best."

"I just have to be more forward with Michael, then?"

"You have to be. And when he doesn't respect your space, you give him a nice hard spank on the behind." Roger made a swatting motion with his hand.

Steven put on his sunglasses. "What if he likes being spanked?" asked Steven coyly.

"Shit, I didn't think that far ahead." Roger chuckled.

"Geeze, what great help you sure turned out to be." Steven's sarcastic growl got Roger laughing harder.

"Give me break. I'm just two years old!" Roger lit a cigarette, took a few puffs and exhaled into the cool breeze. He stopped steering the boat and turned around to face Steven.

"I didn't know babies smoked Marlboro Light. I was under the impression that they were raised on Cubans."

"So... did you double-diaper up or are you happy to see me?" Roger pointed to Steven's diaper, which was a lot bigger than usual.

Steven looked down at his diaper and rubbed his crotch. "Yeah, I went ahead and did that today. I've been having some... issues today. Don't know what's going to happen, but I'm prepared."

"I'm grateful for that." Roger crossed his arms. "I just cleaned the deck this morning."

Steven didn't have to double up on his diapers. He just wanted to impress Roger, who often went to local adult baby gatherings double-diapered; that was one of Roger's trademarks. Roger was also known for promoting incontinence-inducing hypnosis CDs, which were popular for several years -- and as a testimony to his success, Roger used his diaper often, and required more than one diaper on several occasions. Steven was not interested in the CDs, but he appreciated Roger for monetizing his interests. From time to time, Roger joked with Steven about opening an "adult daycare" business, and spend all the revenue from that venture on paying off his student loan debt. Usually, Steven rejected the idea, and accepted the idea as being nothing more than fantasy.

"I noticed you're going solo with the padding today. I'm thinkin' you need to be more concerned about you turning the deck into an actual poop deck than me," joked Steven.

"I'll have you know that I just wet. No problems so far." Roger shrugged. "Mommy said this was thick, and she meant it. I am leak-proof, baby!" Roger slapped his diapered crotch playfully.

"Looks like you're not done wetting," said Steven, noting several growing wet spots on the front of Roger's diaper. The wet spots merged into one large, dark blotch as it traveled from one side of his diaper to the other. To Roger, the relief was appreciated. The weather was cold and having some extra warmth between the legs helped combat the chilly breeze of the ocean. The single, blue-tinted wetness indicator disappeared while the diaper was consumed with a dark yellow dye. Roger rubbed his heavy leg gathers to assess how much his diaper truly swelled up. When he pressed gently on the leg gathers, a small stream of urine ran down his leg.

"You must feel good after that," Steven cackled.

"Yikes! For future reference, don't make any bets on anything I say from now on."

"Hope that you don't do anything else to your diaper. That looks like a disaster!" Steven chuckled.

"You should let me borrow one of the diapers you have on," said Roger as he walked over to Steven and gave his thick diapered crotch a firm squeeze.

"Forget it. I'm doing double-duty for a reason!"

Sitting with Steven as his dining room table, Roger chatted with his family during dinner. "Mommy," as Roger would refer to her, made his favorite meal: barbecue cheddar cheeseburgers (cooked medium-rare, as usual) with chili fries. His two daughters, both 10, sat happily, eating their dinner while throwing fries at each other. Roger stretched his arms, yawned and talked to his wife about going sailing with Steven. The rapport between Steven and Roger's family indicated that he was a long-time family friend.

"How's your mom and dad doing?" asked Jean, Roger's wife.

"They're doing good. They've been busy trying to keep the business afloat. There has been an uptick in customers, though. More people have been coming in because of the low prices. There's some activity in the store, at least."

"That's good. Roger told me that you're dating an AB in the area."

"Yeah, well... he's just came across it -- the adult baby thing -- and was like, 'Oh my God! This is awesome! I want to do this,' and he really got into the role. Actually, I was hoping that Roger could... I don't want to use the word 'indoctrinate,' but he could mentor Michael like how he mentored me. He needs guidance."

"Michael needs an off switch, basically," Roger chimed in. "He needs to know that there's a fine line between being the 'baby' and being someone who truly cares about being in a relationship as well as the person that they're in a relationship with. Let's cut him some slack, though. He's now re-discovering his childhood, and that's a lot to take in at first."

"That's true. You, yourself, were a handful when we first met," Jean said, glaring at Roger from across the table.

"I admit it. When I was your age -- I love saying that -- all I could think about was connecting with others for the sole purpose of roleplaying, rocking back and forth on a giant rocking horse while sucking my thumb. I expected people to roll out the red carpet for me and clean up after my messes because I was the 'toddler,' but then I distanced myself from everyone else because of that attitude. Then I needed people, like Jean here, who slapped me upside the head, told me to do things in moderation. Self-control goes a long way."

"Right... Excuse me." Steven stood up, looked around the table, and hastily walked away. He left the dining room with both of Roger's daughters holding their noses.

"Stevie sure has a long-lasting impression on the girls, doesn't he?" Jean said to Roger.

-8-

Blue was the color that Michael decided to paint his apartment's walls in. Michael stood in paint-covered denim overalls and painted his living room. He tried to emulate that "nursery feel." Later, he spent the afternoon rearranging his furniture so that it adhered to his personal vision of what he wanted his space to look like. The middle of the living room floor consisted of a custom-made, adult-sized playpen that was fully assembled. The playpen was surrounded with wooden bars similar to a crib. Inside, the mattress inside was soft and cloud-like. The playpen had unique addons, including side pockets for toys, diapers, and miscellaneous supplies.

The night before, Michael finished decorating the bathroom. He placed a rubber duckie on top of the faucet in the bathroom sink and placed rubber duckie-shaped, anti-slip mats around the toilet and shower area. He installed a colorful variety of tiles in random places on the bathroom walls. Some of the tiles featured images of Disney characters like Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. Michael wanted to make absolutely sure that when he took his showers in the morning, he was able to take his showers in a place that reminded him of what life used to be like.

The bedroom was covered in starry skies and clouds as wallpaper. He painted his dresser and closet door white to match perfectly with the bright blue-covered wallpaper. By the time he started working on renovating his bedroom, he was over his decoration budget. He kept his bed, but bought racecar-themed blankets so that it satisfied the overall theme of the room. He also purchased and placed disposable underpads underneath the blankets to create a "secure" feeling, which he was looking for. Every other piece of furniture stayed in place.

When he was done with the renovations, Michael turned on the television in the living room and sat in his playpen. He dipped his hand into one of the playpen's side pockets and pulled out two action figures. He sat quietly, staring at Woody and Buzz Lightyear. He imagined Woody trying to understand his surroundings with Buzz.

Scared, Woody grabs onto the playpen bars and looks around. "How are we going to get out of here?" Woody asked Buzz. "I don't know how long I can stand being trapped in this place with a grown man dressed as a baby. We're not in Andy's toybox anymore, I guess."

"Don't worry, my friend! Look on the bright side: Mikey will never grow up and throw away his toys." Buzz wrapped his arm around Woody's shoulder.

Woody pauses, then sighs. "I suppose you're right, Buzz."

"To infinity... and beyond!" shouted Buzz as he pointed up to the ceiling.

Michael took the action figures and gave them his voice. He made Buzz fly around in the air while he made Woody hold onto Buzz's right leg, smiling awkwardly.

For Michael, it was easy to drop everything and play. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the responsibilities that he needed to endure, but there was so much happiness to be had from simplifying his existence, the euphoria triumphed over urgency. He didn't want to think about how he spent part of his father's inheritance on "baby" furniture and supplies. Instead, he wanted to think about cuddling with his stuffed animals. He didn't want to go look for a job. Instead, he was preoccupied with fantasy situations involving Steven and himself. In each fantasy scenario, he wanted to simply be a baby and live the rest of his life as someone who never grew up. This came as a sharp contrast to when he first met Steven. At the time, he expressed interest in the lifestyle but had dismissed the possibility of it consuming him.

The bladder was starting to reach its limit and his stomach was curling. Michael curled his knees up, leaned up against one of the playpen walls, and held onto his diapered crotch. Closing his eyes, Michael took a deep sigh while he wet himself. He wet uncontrollably. He could feel the warmth by his crotch while he wet. The front of the diaper was getting thicker became of all the liquid it was taking in through its cores. He couldn't stop the wetting, and he loved it. He was muttering to himself about how he was a "bad baby," and he wanted to be "punished" for soiling his pants. He subsequently messed, and completely filled his diaper. He was aroused, breathing heavily, and looking for a way to relieve the tension.

The toilet flushed. Michael walked out of his bathroom, rubbing his forehead. He had a throbbing headache. He felt like he was on long vacation and came back home to reality. He looked around and saw that his apartment was in the process of turning into a baby nursery. While he remained appreciative of his recreational age regression, Michael suddenly felt the stinging sensation of overreach. He rushed back to his bathroom and checked himself in the mirror. Michael didn't just see a young baby boy in the mirror. He saw a man dressed as an infant. Reality was sinking in. The man before the mirror was Michael Cole, not "Mikey." He thought about Steven, who urged him to use more self-control. Michael eventually started to believe that he betrayed Steven.

Michael removed his overalls. He dressed in his normal clothes and paced around the bedroom. He took a stack of thick disposable diapers on top of his dresser and stuffed them inside one of his drawers. He looked around the room for things he could put away; things that were self-incriminating. There were several toys scattered across the floor, which led to the genuine belief that an actual baby was living in his bedroom. He felt ashamed that he was playing the "baby" role alone. He wanted to rail against himself for being so selfish. That realization haunted him for the rest of the night.

At six in the evening, Michael called Steven on his phone. Steven picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi!" said Michael in a bubbly, high-pitched tone while standing in the kitchen, the only room that wasn't decorated.

Steven paused for a moment. "Who is this?" asked Steven.

"Someone who loves you very much and wants to see you again," Michael replied candidly.

"I'm getting my keys. I'll see you in a --"

"No need to rush. Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come see my stand-up show at the Acme Comedy Theatre Saturday night..."

"That sounds like fun!" exclaimed Steven. "What time?"

"Six-thirty."

"Oh yeah, definitely. Do you mind if I come over then? I need to kick back and relax anyway. Long day."

"Sure, sure."

Steven felt like he entered a stranger's apartment. Michael's apartment had a different look. Obviously, Steven had quickly arrived at the conclusion that Michael was turning his apartment into a multi-purpose baby room. He liked how Michael decorated it, but he was concerned about his friend's obsession with the lifestyle. Steven observed that Michael really wanted to isolate himself from the rest of the world, and enumerate all the ways he could do so. Slowly but surely, Michael was becoming a modern-day example of an escapist. Steven admired the dedication, but had some concerns. He sat on the corner of Michael's colorful bed. He looked at Michael who sat beside him.

"You really went way, way out there," Steven assessed.

"I did. I wanted my apartment to look less sterile, and more playful."

"No kidding. You got the glow-in-the-dark stickers plastered all over the walls, and... it smells very pleasant in here. Yeah..." Steven fell backwards onto the bed with folded arms behind his head. "It's very relaxing. But why did you do all of this? It seemed like you were still trying to figure out whether or not being little was something that interested you -- but suddenly, the pendulum swung the other way. Correct me if I'm wrong, but --"

"No, you're right," Michael interjected. "I think that I've always wanted to be a 'baby,' but until recently, I didn't realize that other people were the same way. Something in me snapped. Not the crazy kind of 'snapped,' but a paradigm shift kind of 'snapped.' And I was like, 'Holy shit, I can actually do these things?' I was hooked. And when I was laid off, I thought, 'Fuck it. I'm going to pull a Benjamin Button.'"

"Damn you, Brad Pitt!" said Steven, jokingly shaking his fist in the air. "You inspired my boyfriend to turn into a big, mean smelly baby!"

"Wait, what did you just say?" Michael asked seriously.

"What? Are you talking about the 'big, mean smelly baby' part?"

"No, what you said right before that."

"Boyfriend?" Steven chuckled.

"I've been in relationships where couples are just dating, you know, but if you refer to them as 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend,' they get really nervous. I can understand why. You said 'boyfriend,' meaning we're, like, officially together now? I just want to be sure about this."

Steven sat back up, closed his eyes and sighed. "I have these really strong feelings for you. I feel like I can confide in you, and you won't judge me, and --"

"Objection!"

Steven pushed Michael playfully.

"As I was saying... I feel like I can talk to you as a partner. I think you're a really swell guy. You smell good. You're funny. I love to laugh. I think you're great. I just think that -- well... You know, I'm an AB. I love it. I've made friends from networking as an AB. Heck, I was even sailing with one earlier. We've known each other for a while. But anyway, I think that we can make it work between us, but all I ask is for you to be 'Michael,' and 'Mikey' when we're together as ABs. I think you're adorable in your onesies, and I love you in diapers. It's the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Michael blushed and lowered his head so Steven couldn't see his face.

"Did I say something?" asked Steven.

"No, I'm just happy right now. I just want to... oh, right. You need a change? I can totally do it now."

Steven rolled his eyes. "FYI, I'm dry at the moment."

"When won't you be? I want to change you. I can totally do it now."

Steven laughed. "I'm baring my heart and soul to you, and all you want to do is change my diaper? Are you really that shallow of a person?"

Michael shook his head furiously. "No, no. Not at all. Actually, let me tell you something. Just before you got here, I was finishing up with the decorating, and I realized that I was being completely selfish about everything. I turned my apartment into a big nursery because, at first, I was doing it solely to please myself -- but in reality, I'm already happy being with you. I don't need anything more than that. In fact, I was so concerned about the way I treated you before, I thought I was going to lose you. Then I got in this funk. On top of me getting laid off from work, I was devastated. I couldn't think about my future. I didn't want to. When you called me your 'boyfriend,' I felt liberated. I really did. I realized that you want to be with me, by my side..."

Steven held onto Michael's hand.

"... and I want nothing more than you."

Steven's eyes were watery. He could barely see what was in front of him. He was overcome with emotion. He didn't even think twice before kissing Michael on the lips. Michael returned the kiss by opening his mouth wider and savored the kiss. Michael wrapped his arms around Steven. Steven was heard muttering "daddy" to Michael's ear. Michael broke from his kiss temporarily, looked at Steven's sparkling blue eyes and told him that he would be honored to have Steven as his "little baby boy."

[coolguydan]

This story is fantastic! I look forward to reading the next chapter!

[Horndog]

UPDATE: Just wanted to thank an anonymous member of DD for donating $20 in support of this story. Means a lot!

[Horndog]

-9-

Michael could barely see the audience before him. The spotlight was shining brightly in his eyes. He started making jokes and people were laughing at them. At one point he cupped his hand over his eyes to see who was out there in the audience. He saw Steven, who was sitting in the front row, coolly leaning up against a chair. Michael smiled at Steven before pacing back and forth on stage with a wireless microphone in hand.

"Computers are designed to fail. I wake up every morning, turn on my computer, and wait for it to destroy my life. When my computer finally boots up, it plays this pleasant-sounding chime to let me know that everything is okay -- and then it fucks me! After that happens, I find out my computer is infected with a bunch of viruses. This keeps happening to me, and I'm f****** sick of it! I'm lost without my porn. I'm so used to porn that my right arm now atrophies if I don't masturbate every 15 minutes. Without a computer, I don't have access to tits!" Michael began to cry and bury his head in his hand.

Suddenly, Michael said monotonously "But I'm gay, so..." He shrugged.

The audience laughed at Michael's contradiction. He pretended to be surprised at the laughter by looking around and turning to face the brick backdrop situated behind him.

"I'm gay, so to me, tits are like two fat, saggy orbs with nipples that babies drink milk from. I'm sure the milk tastes good, but I prefer a large soy latte with extra cream," joked Michael with an exaggerated lisp. "People don't understand 'the gay' much. It's simple, really. I was going to demonstrate by using a cock and an ass, but I was told to stay 250 feet from the nearest petting zoo."

Steven chuckled at that joke.

"You can be versed in politics, religion, science, sports, philosophy, and have a PhD in Molecular Engineering, but if you're gay, you're ruining America. All bets are off! You're destroying the sanctity of Judeo-Christian marriage because you just so happen to love someone of the same sex. But if a straight man gets a degree in interior decorating, drives a rainbow-colored Volkswagen Beetle, listens to Judy Garland's Greatest Hits on his iPod, and spends his free time in the gym locker room with an erection underneath a towel, you can call them 'Senator.' 'Senator' is the new 'gay.'"

The night had a rocky start for Michael, who was visibly nervous at times. His comedy stylings included observational humor, random bathroom jokes and impressions -- but the crowd didn't pick up on all those nuances during the first half of his performance. However, he gained some momentum in the second half when he exerted more energy into his stand-up routine. Because he didn't rehearse much prior to the performance, Michael improvised and experimented rapidly with different techniques. He was able to finally work the audience into an intoxicated stupor of hilarity. Success came to Michael once he let himself go, and stopped trying to impress everyone else.

When the night was over, the audience gave Michael a round of applause. While the crowd was clapping, Michael tried reaching out to Steven to pat him on the back. Steven chuckled, shook his head, and waved Michael away. This incited Michael to joke with the audience. "My boyfriend is here tonight... I would bring him up on stage with me, but he brought the closet with him."

Michael felt the adrenaline rushing to his head. He jogged backstage and headed straight toward the exit door. Once he was outside, Michael stood quietly, inhaled, and looked up at the stars. Several people followed Michael outside and complimented him for his performance. Michael shook hands with everyone around him, thanked people for showing up and jokingly offered them refunds. One of the people who approached Michael was a man who called himself Pauly. The man had short, curly black hair and spoke in a very morose, nasally tone that made Michael slightly apprehensive at first.

"Hey man, that was a really nice routine, Cole," said Pauly.

"Thanks. Just kinda winged it, you know?" Michael scratched the top of his head. "Sweating bullets out there."

"Have you considered performing at bigger venues?"

"Sure. I don't think I could get booked at those, though. You have to know someone who knows someone who slept with someone who snorted coke with someone..."

"I don't have any coke, but I could get you in at the Comedy Store if you like."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Really now?" he asked, stroking his imaginary fu manchu beard.

"Oh yeah, totally. You're really funny. I almost peed my pants, it was so funny."

"I have that effect on people," said Michael, snickering.

"You want to exchange phone numbers, e-mail addresses or something?"

Michael brought out his phone. "Definitely."

Driving back to Steven's apartment with his boyfriend in the passenger seat, Michael appeared very radiant. He looked down the road, and imagined that every traffic light had turned green for him. He imagined that the lane he was driving was paved with gold, and surrounded by blinking, bright lights. On the road were white-colored arrows pointing straight ahead. He turned slightly to his right to see a green sign on the road that read, "You have now entered Success." When he arrived back at reality, Michael stopped before an intersection on a red light. He turned to Steven, smiled, and casually rubbed his boyfriend's left shoulder.

"I'm really happy for you," said Steven. "If you can make some money from this, you can buy diapers for the both of us."

"Yeah, sure. You're expensive to take care of. You're like an incontinent camel with those diapers."

Steven laughed hysterically with that thought instilled in his mind. "I've never been compared to something like that before. Ouch!"

"Well, there's a lot of upkeep when it comes to being baby... ish, expecially when I'm still unemployed. Hopefully this will be a paid gig."

Steven nodded. "You know, if you were ever in a pinch, Roger could loan out some money."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "I don't like taking out loans. It could easily jeopardize friendships... So anyway, you were telling me about Roger earlier. He's a friend of yours, right?"

"Yeah, well, he's someone I've known for a long time. He's my mentor, basically."

"Mentor? Hm... OK. 'Grasshopper, I will show you the ways of the force. Suck my thumb!'"

Speaking in Yoda voice, Steven played along. "Damp is the dark side of your diaper, you are."

Michael laughed. "So Roger is your 'mentor,' you said?"

"Yes." Steven explained, "Roger is someone I interacted with online on one of those adult baby message board sites. Anyway, he wrote to me after I posted about my depression and trying to accept the fact that I liked being the 'baby.' At the time, I had a lot of difficulty because I was college, living in this dorm room arrangement with roommates, and I wanted to badly to put on a onesie, diaper up, and tell all the naysayers to go away. He was the one who told me that, basically, I had to establish this duality of being the responsible adult, and being the baby when I had the opportunity to be. He was the voice that kept telling me, 'Don't let this get to your head.' He offered to 'play' with me a few times. Because just so happen to be in driving distance, I would visit his place. He would visit mine. We have a very platonic relationship."

Michael briefly glanced at Steven with a concerned expression on his face. "I was under the impression that being an adult baby with someone else was, well, kinda sexual by nature. I mean, it really takes a lot of guts to be in the presence of others, and being vulnerable. I interpret that openness as foreplay. The word 'platonic' doesn't seem to fit -- but, I don't know Stevie. Maybe it's just me."

Steven shifted his eyes nervously. "Well, no... I mean, a lot of adult babies and diaper lovers meet and hang out. Sometimes, on occasion or whatever, will dress up in their overalls, baby clothes and diapers -- but it's more of a relaxing kind of thing. It's not like, 'Oh, we're all wet now so let's play some Barry White music, and have a giant orgy inside the McDonalds playpen!"

"That would be kinda hot, actually," admitted Michael, smirking at the thought. "With all those balls."

"The point is: that doesn't happen. At least, it doesn't happen as much as you'd like," said Steven in a low, lustful growl. "Wait, did you make a pun?"

"I did what now?" Michael asked, pretending to be oblivious.

Steven chuckled, and shook his head. "You're something else."

Steven looked down momentarily to adjust his seat belt when something caught his eye. He noticed that Michael's pants appeared a little dark around his crotch.

"Did you put on a diaper before the show?" asked Steven.

"No, why?" Michael looked down at his crotch for a moment, and noticed it was wet. "Oh shit! I'm peeing!"

Michael pulled to the side of the road, stopped the car in front of a small public park, and leaped out of the vehicle with his hand holding onto his crotch. He felt the warmth spreading fast. Michael walked over to the nearest bush, hurriedly unzipped his fly, and relieved himself. Steven watched as Michael furiously cursed at himself. He couldn't believe that he didn't notice himself wetting before. The act of wetting had become fully subconscious. He felt very uncomfortable relieving himself so publicly, but it couldn't be helped.

Steven rolled down his window and yelled out to Michael, "Incontinent camel, you say?"

Michael had finished emptying his bladder when he heard a car door slam behind him. He zipped up his pants, turned around, and was face to face with a police officer shining a light at his face.

"You know what a 'restroom' is, sir?" the officer asked Michael.

"Yes."

"So can you explain why you're urinating in public, which is against the law in the state of California?"

"I had a... accident in the car, and... wanted to get the rest out as soon as I could."

"Have you been drinking any alcohol tonight?"

"Not at all."

Steven came out of the car. "Michael has a disability," he told the cop as he waved his hands.

"Did I ask you to get out of the car?" the officer snapped at Steven. "Get back in, and stay in."

Steven sulked back to the car.

"What my friend said was true, officer. I have an issue with my... which... how should I say this... causes me to go when I don't expect it."

The officer aimed his flashlight at Michael's pants. Michael had wet so much that urine was still dripping from the bottom of his pants.

Feeling embarrassed for Michael, the officer turned off the flashlight, turned away, and cleared his throat. "You don't appear intoxicated. Words aren't slurred. You're moving fine. Don't smell alcohol on you. I guess I could let you go, but only on one condition. Buy some adult Pampers, or whatever they're called... diapers," the officer advised.

"Thank you," said Michael, bowing his head to the officer in gratitude. "I appreciate it."

"As an older man with prostate problems, I can relate to the inconvenience. Have a good night, and stay out of trouble."

When the officer drove away in his car, Michael sat inside his, trying to calm down. He inhaled, then exhaled. He did this several times. He tried starting the car, but temporarily lost the motivation to turn the ignition. Michael developed a throbbing headache, and Steven's back rubs did nothing to ease the tension. In his misery, Michael realized that he became dependent on diapers, and that caused his bladder to empty unexpectedly. When he was actively trying to regress into an infant-like state, Michael wanted nothing more to be incontinent -- but even then, he wanted it to be on his own terms. In actuality, it was an oxymoron. He managed to achieve his goal, but the accident in the car helped him recognize the consequences. In the pursuit for sexual euphoria, he tried relinquishing control of his bodily functions only to ultimately suffer the wrath of his indulgence when he was least expecting it.

"I wouldn't get too bent out of shape over it." Michael had to pick and choose his words carefully. "This could be a one-off occurrence. Since I started wearing diapers, I've had a few accidents when I wasn't wearing."

Michael sighed and gripped the steering wheel. "But did you feel like you were losing control of your... you know."

"No, I haven't had that problem, personally. Look, I'm sure the cops would understand if you're disabled, and what happened to you was completely involuntary."

Michael began to drive again. "I'm not disabled. I don't want to be. Wearing diapers shouldn't create a problem like this."

Steven rubbed his chin. "Well, consider the fact that you've been wearing diapers since you met me -- and that was two months ago -- you've been wearing diapers a lot. Perhaps your body is being conditioned to wearing them, using them instead of the toilet."

"But I..."

"It's just a thought."

"Can't afford to go through that again with the cop. I just can't."

-10-

For the first time in almost 30 years, Michael wet the bed. By the time he woke up the next uncomfortably warm morning, the bed sheets reeked stale piss. He angrily kicked the sheets off his bed, and laid there in his soaked white briefs. He rattled the bed frame in complete frustration, and melted back into bed after realizing that fighting with an inanimate object would do nothing to help him. He was frightened, but aroused. Michael could not overcome his behavioral contradictions. He threw himself into a simplified world without a care in the world, and that world had finally intruded on his adulthood. He was concerned about wetting himself on stage in front of an audience. He feared soiling himself in the middle of an opportunity that could give more meaning to his life -- and yet, he had never experienced such strong arousal before. His sexual adrenaline was caught in disarray, and he felt that he had no way to truly quell his desires.

He went through his dresser, and stared at his collection of diapers. He ran various scenarios in his mind. He thought about going out diapered, but with an audience watching him perform, the naked eye -- and some cameras that could be filming his performance -- would easily incriminate him if there were any imperfections, wardrobe malfunctions, or unexpected leaks. Could the audience hear his diaper crinkling every time he walked around? Could they smell him if he were to use his diaper before or during the performance? Could he get away with it? Thoughts were racing in his mind, and he wasn't able to organize them. He had trouble thinking clearly. A part of him wanted to put the whole lifestyle behind him, and focus solely on establishing a successful career as a comedian. Another part of him was stimulated by the shame, the voyeuristic humiliation that sent a pleasurable chill down his spine. He felt threatened by the cop who caught him in the act, and feared being disciplined, but that fear was also considered as a worthy risk that tipped the scales of his sexual appetite.

Michael went through his dresser busily, pulled out a diaper and plastic pants. He set both items on his bed, and hurriedly put them on. After dressing to his satisfaction, Michael looked out his bedroom window, which was located above his bed, and posed for the outside world. He stood on top of his bed, groped his plastic pants, and pushed the diaper against his groin. He looked up at the ceiling, closed his eyes, and rubbed his plastic pants intensely. His vivid, sexual daydreaming flourished again -- but he assured himself that he was not going to repeat mistakes from the past.

He had a vision of being the "baby," wandering in the supermarket in a light blue-colored shirt featuring Sesame Street's Cookie Monster, and a Toy Story 3-themed Pull Ups diaper. He walked around, looking at all the items in the aisles. He walked beside a woman, who he referred to as "mommy." The woman slowly placed items in her shopping cart as Michael carolled the words of "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" by The Beatles. He felt the urge to wet, but resisted the temptation. He could wet just a little if he wanted to, but "mommy" would not be pleased. He was delighted that, at least, he had the option to "use" his Pull-Ups, but "mommy" gave him those "big boy pants" because she wanted him to be toilet-trained. He liked the idea of being restrained. He pursued his way to the checkout line with the woman.

"Mommy, where is the bathroom?" Michael asked the woman, tugging on her skirt.

In a sweet, raspy voice, the woman replied, "We're almost done with the shopping. You'll be home very soon. Don't worry."

Michael desperately grabbed onto his diaper, and wiggled his legs childishly. "But mommy!" he protested.

"Just a minute, honey."

Michael danced around the checkout line with his bladder ready to burst. He huffed and puffed. Sweat dripped from his brow, and the delight of being carefree faded into a sense of urgency. His eyes darted around, and he saw adults -- much taller than him -- staring down at him, watching him, laughing at him with anticipatory glee that something was about to happen. Growing impatient, Michael dripped some urine into his Pull Ups. "That wasn't so bad. No one would know," he thought. He abruptly let out a deep-sounding fart, and suddenly he began to flood his Pull-Ups. On his crotch, there was a picture of Woody and Buzz Lightyear standing stoically over a growing sea of darkness that crept around the pants. Michael tried stopping the flow, but it was impossible. Helplessly wetting himself, Michael felt a warm trickle of pee run down his legs, and gather into a large puddle on the shiny white floor. He could hear people chuckling softly around him. His face turned red. He couldn't handle the embarrassment.

A firm log slid into the back of his diaper with tremendous pressure, triggering a temporary sense of euphoria of having voided his bowels and completely emptying his bladder. His body was thoroughly satisfied, and his stomach grumbling was gone. The Pull Ups expanded dramatically in the back, leaving a clump of evidence to show that he was not ready for the toilet. "Mommy" sighed, and jogged over to the nearby incontinence-themed aisle to buy some adult diapers for her little "baby boy." The soft chuckles evolved into hysterical laughter. Michael couldn't stand to look at anyone in th eye. Instead, he looked down at the floor, watching the puddle by his feet grow exponentially.

"Look what you did, Mikey!" shouted "mommy," who pointed to the mess Michael made on the floor. "Now you're going to stay in diapers from now on."

People pointed at him, laughing. Some took their camera phones and recorded him as he stood silently in a ridiculously full diaper. Finally, he trotted to the grocery store exit doors with his head hanging low in shame. It all seemed like a horrible, humiliating experience. But to Michael, who returned to reality, he was sweating profusely from the excitement that the vision gave him. Laying in his urine-soaked bed, Michael breathed heavily through his snout, and his eyes rolled up. He rambled to himself -- finding everything he conceptualized to be a worthwhile journey. He rubbed his diaper one last time, grunted loudly, and slowly rolled out of bed, feeling accomplished. This time, he couldn't shake off the hedonism.

Throughout the day, Michael wondered how Steven would react if he was in the same position. In the scenario that he created, Michael would be the "daddy," and Steven would be...

Before Michael could milk the thought of Steven humiliating himself, his phone rang. As he stood, turning the doorknob of his front door, Michael's smartphone vibrated and played music. When he looked at the screen, the words "New Message" appeared. The message was an e-mail sent to him by Steven. It was an invitation to a party held by Roger at his house in Malibu. The party, as Steven described, would be for local adult babies and diaper lovers to meet and have fun. Michael didn't object to the concept, and simply wrote, "OK. I'll be there." He pressed the "send" button on the screen, and the deed was done.

When Steven received the e-mail, he sat at the computer desk in his living room with his head down. Steven was tired, and had worked several evening shifts throughout the week. The happiness had faded from his complexion. He wanted to shake up his life, and escape the tedium of work at Starbucks. The only thing that kept the glint in his eyes was his boyfriend, Michael. To Steven, Michael was an enigma. His personality and charisma was purely magnetic, and he was bewitched by his spontaneity. Steven loved being around someone who was unpredictable, but that was also the problem. Steven noticed Michael's constant behavioral shifts. First he was interested in being an adult baby. Then he was entranced with wearing diapers. Then he wanted to be a "baby," but when he realized that he neglected to prioritize his relationship over his personal desires, he wanted to try his hand at being a "daddy." Now, it was Steven's understanding that Michael wanted to avoid diapers so he could regain control of his bodily functions -- and he would not tend to Steven as a consequence. Unbeknownst to Steven, Michael had not only rekindled his desire for wearing diapers; he wanted to take the risk of getting humiliated once again.

Steven was having trouble handling Michael's contradictory positions, though he enjoyed having Michael as a loving playmate on the weekends. Finally, Steven was able to quietly reassess his relationship without the noise and chaos that surrounded Michael.

The only adult baby Steven truly loved was Michael because Michael was open, honest, and accessible. Others were not easily obtainable either because they were out of driving distance, were noncommittal to a monogamous relationship, or had emotional instability that quashed any potential of having a healthy relationship. Michael was in danger of being considered by Steven as emotionally unstable. Michael was able to articulate the reasons for changing his positions, but there was an unusual lack of consistency, which bothered Steven. At the same time, Steven fully understood that he was the one who enabled Michael to be more involved in the lifestyle. He smartly took responsibility for his role, and accepting his contribution to Michael's "adult baby" evolution made him very empathetic of Michael's situation. Steven thought about how the lifestyle affected him personally. It was slowly becoming a struggle because it created conflict in the relationship, yet it served as a way to helped him unwind. He was undecided about whether he wanted to continue being the "baby," but when his e-mail inbox alerted him of a new message on his computer screen, he lifted his head up and tried to forget about his discomfort.

He read Michael's e-mail, and gingerly typed a response to him on the keyboard.

"Great!" Steven wrote to Michael. "Looking forward to spending some more time with you, and having fun at the party." When he hit the Enter key, and sent the e-mail, he felt somewhat pleased. He wanted to keep in contact with Michael. He hoped that by socializing with other AB/DLs, Michael would be motivated to find some balance, and keep the relationship afloat. Otherwise, Steven would face another heartbreak -- and he wasn't going to let that happen without a fight.

[Horndog]

-11-

Roger Quinn owned a single-story, 10,000 square-foot home that overlooked the ocean in Malibu from a private, 100-foot elevated bluff. The house was a modern architect's dream, and it roused comparisons to homes featured on "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous." If he were to describe his living space with one word, Roger would say, "Serenity." The way he lived clearly showed his respectable standing in life. In his biography -- which he authored himself and posted it prominently on his Facebook page -- he wrote, "Coast One Properties Broker since 1980. Married January 14, 1983, and loving father of two daughters, Lacy and Michelle. Local volunteer, charity organizer, and friend." Not many people knew about his unwavering dedication to being an AB/DL, of course. Knowledge of such activity would jeopardize his reputation, but he was confident that his devious side would remain in the shadows.

He first settled in the adult baby lifestyle when he met his wife of 28 years, Jean, a Hollywood publicist. Roger met her in 1982 at a party for "bigger babies" in Culver City. Jean was immeditely attracted to Roger at the party, and she ignited an extensive conversation with him about their lives. Roger, who grew up in a household of siblings (including himself) that wore diapers as a way to curb their bedwetting, took a liking to Jean. Jean was profoundly incontinent, and that incontinence was a byproduct of her periods. She found Roger to be unbelievably handsome in diapers, and enjoyed changing him as "mommy." Roger insisted on returning the favor, and being her "daddy" on occasion, but she politely declined. She channeled her motherly instincts into taking care of Roger, and making sure her "little boy" was nice and clean. Jean was only two years older than him.

By the time they were married and Jean gave birth to her daughters, their roleplaying relationship became almost nonexistent. Once in a while, when the kids were either in school or asleep at night, Roger and Jean would play, but there were limitations unlike before when they were young, madly in love with each other, and couldn't spend a day without their sexual fix. When the Internet became mainstream in the mid-1990s, Roger was able to rekindle the flames of his infantilism, and participate in discussions with other "adult babies." He was finally able to tap into the social element of an interest that few men ever participated in. The experience of being the "baby" gave him superiority and seniority over the others. In turn, interested online posters looked at his rank, and respected him without ever knowing who "Don Diaper" was. Outside the online world, he was already respected as the supportive family man and community leader, but he felt compelled to earn that respect amongst his anonymous peers -- but that were merely a call to bring people physically closer to him.

Roger eventually developed a side business to help other AB/DLs. He produced hypnosis CDs, which helped people become incontinent. This caused his reputation in the AB/DL to increase tenfold, and become the guy that everyone came to. He took the momentum, and organized several successful meets and parties. He was the happiest man in Malibu when he was around several diapered men and women, helplessly soiling their diapers before his eyes. At that point, he knew he was no longer alone. However, he often hesitated to act on his sexual frustration. He wanted to have fun with the others, but the wedding ring on his finger reminded him to refrain from thinking such adulterous thoughts.

Then he met Steven. Steven was 18 when he posted a photo of himself on a popular AB/DL community site. He laid on his bed at his parent's house with his lower half on the sheets, and his torso raised up. His back was partially facing the camera as he tried turning to look at the camera lens to smile. He wore nothing but a thick, disposable diaper with three turquoise-colored wetness indicator strips on the rear. The diaper was obviously soggy, and drooping low. The caption underneath the photo read, "Looking 4 someone 2 change me!" Impressed with the photo and Steven's youthful, slender frame, Roger pursued Steven online, and read his posts attentively. When Steven sought advice about his interests, Roger pounced immediately, and worked aggressively to become the young man's friend. Roger was horny, and couldn't take it anymore -- and so he invited his new digital pen-pal to his house in Malibu.

Once he arrived, Steven was greeted by Roger, who barely resisted the urge to play with him. Both of the men got to know each other as they sat in Roger's living room, drank hot cocoa, and crinkled around the fireplace. Steven was humored by Roger, and took an immediate liking to the older gentleman. Roger mentioned repeatedly -- almost obsessively -- that he was married, had a loving wife, and was only interested in making friends. Nothing more. During his numerous on-on-one conversations with Steven, Roger concealed his ulterior motives so well that he forgot to take the initiative, and act on his desires. Rather than confide to his young, eccentric acquaintance that he wanted to take the relationship to another level, Roger offered to advise Steven on ways to create a balance between being a "baby" and being an adult. Steven happily accepted Roger's counseling. Roger had failed to achieve his goal, though Steven was well within his reach.

Five years later, Steven arrived at Roger's party with his boyfriend, Michael, in tow. While drinking a glass of chardonnay, Roger stood in the kitchen and watched Steven.

There were several guests in attendance. Some wore baby clothes. Other simply walked around in diapers. Few took the liberty of dressing like "sissies" in their frilly pink dresses. In sharp contrast, Michael dressed more conservatively with a black turtleneck shirt, and blue jeans under the presumption that the party would be a formal meet-and-greet between other members of the AB/DL community. Steven, on the other hand, wore a blue onesie, and walked around with a pacifier in his mouth.

It was a festive atmosphere, and Michael felt the experience of being there was akin to dying, and going to heaven. He walked around the spacious living room, wearing a white t-shirt, diaper, and an infectious smile. Michael didn't realize that there were so many people like him who lived in the area.

"What a bunch of weirdos!" Michael whispered to Steven.

"You're one of 'em." Steven elbowed Michael gently on his side.

Michael grinned, and swatted Steven away. "Yeah right!"

"Oh, please. You turned your apartment into a baby nursery." Steven rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, mocking Michael.

Michael pointed to his face. "That looks like the face you make when you poop. That's your 'poop face.' Adorable!"

"Your observational skills are keen as always, Sherlock."

Overhearing the conversation, an older woman -- fully and properly clothed -- passed by the two, and told them, "Why don't you guys act your age?" She winked, and flicked her long, curly blonde hair over her head.

"Yes, Mommy Jasmine," Steven snarled.

"Who is she?" asked Michael.

"She's one of the 'mommies' who lives in Los Angeles. She runs an adult daycare center out of her home, and takes care of her 'kids.' She's on duty today to help change and diaper up anyone who needs it. She also gives some fine spankings too!"

"Really? She's sort of a caretaker then?"

"Yep. She does a good business too. She's into the BDSM scene as well. Kinda popular."

"BDSM?"

"Bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism."

"Oh, oh, oh! Like when you're dressed up in leather, and you get whipped while you have an apple in your mouth?"

"More or less," said Steven, shaking his head.

"That's hilarious!"

"Well, wearing diapers and acting like an infant falls under that BDSM category."

"Have you ever, uh, used her services?"

"Once in a blue moon. I've known her for a while now. She's a nice lady, actually. If you get on her bad side, though, she'll bring out a large paddle with your name on it."

"Kinky!"

Roger set his glass down on the kitchen counter, and wandered over to Michael and Steven. Steven greeted Roger, and gave him a hug. Michael opted to give Roger a neutral handshake.

"It is so nice to see you here," said Roger, patting Steven on the back.

"I see you're double-diapered, as usual," Steven observed Roger, who was wearing just diapers.

"If I'm drinking tonight, I'm gonna need some protection." Roger paused, and looked at Michael. "So you're the new guy? Michael, is it?"

"Yeah. Steven turned me onto the whole thing. Once I found out about it, everything made sense as far as why I felt a certain way about some things. I could go on, but... you know, the usual."

"So where do you live, Michael?" Roger asked.

"I live in West L.A. Got a place there."

Roger nodded. "And I was told by Steven that you're a comedian. That's a tough business to get into."

Michael shrugged. "I'm not familiar with the 'business' part yet, but yeah. I'm going to perform next week at the Comedy Store, though, which I'm really stoked about."

"That's excellent! Congratulations! I saw Robin Williams perform there once. Wonderfully funny man of multiple talents."

"I look up to him!"

"So how do you like the party so far?" Roger pushed his eyeglasses further up his face.

Michael looked around. "I like it. Smells like incense in here."

"Coconut and lavender: the best that India has to offer."

"It'll take a lot more to cancel out the dirty diaper smell."

Roger laughed, and wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulder. "I know, right?"

Feeling sorry for the fact that he was new, Michael humbly walked around without interacting with the other party-goers. The house was a sufficient enough size for Michael to explore freely. He walked up around the rooms, which were furnished with Moroccan and Middle-Eastern themes. Michael felt the home was slightly pretentious, and his interest in being alone waned. He walked into Roger's large kitchen, which was full of party trays, drinks, and plates on top of green marble counters. As he approached one of the party trays, Michael overheard a man expressing his dislike for his co-workers at a law firm in Orange County. Another man spoke agitatedly about his in-laws moving into his house as a result of them having been laid off from their jobs in the automotive industry. Michael didn't like eavesdropping, but he felt fortunate for having the ability to assess a cross-section of AB/DLs. They seemed to be normal people, and not outlandishly odd beings -- though most people were wearing diapers and dressed like toddlers at the party.

The party trays were full of large croissant sandwiches of different kinds, and other party snacks. As he helped himself to a serving, Jasmine approached Michael, and helped herself to some crackers and cheese.

"Where are the sippy-cups?" asked Michael jokingly. "Waaah-waaah-waaah!"

Jasmine chuckled. "Babies can't have everything they want, but..." She poured a bottle of apple juice into a red plastic cup, and gave it to Michael. "Here. So, new guy, what you got you into this stuff?"

"Well, it happened so suddenly with me. I met Steven, and --"

"Say no more! No, just teasing. Continue."

"When he started dating, he showed me what he was into. When I looked at it, I was disgusted at first. I was like, 'No, that's wrong.' Because he showed me what he was into, that triggered memories of times I had when I was younger, and life was so simple. Life was so carefree. I could play around the house in a diaper, dress up like a mean ol' cowboy, and play with my brother. Dating Steve helped me tap into the things that made my youth so enjoyable. And, you know, I'm still trying to figure out why I'm here. It's a lot to take in. Had no idea a community like this existed. Anyway, yadda-yadda-yadda. I digress. What's your story?"

"People call me 'Mommy Jasmine,' and I run an adult baby daycare center in Long Beach. It started out innocent enough. I liked taking care of others. I liked being that mother figure. I think it was a result of being forced to grow up at an early age with a single mother who was a drug addict, and a young sister. When I turned 10, my sister Judith was born. I was assigned the task of changing her diapers, feeding her, taking her stroller out on walks. I had to be the mother when my own mother couldn't. I enjoyed it actually. It became a part of life.

"By the time I graduated from high school, I was in a relationship when I was taking care of my boyfriend. It started like a joke. I wondered what he would look like in diapers, so I bought him some. He got really upset, and he was tellin' me, 'No, no, no! I'm not a baby!' but there were times when he actually wet his pants after drinking beer with his friends. He objected to being diapered for the longest time, but I told him, 'Honey, I have to do it. It's for your own good.' Sure enough, he started liking it after a while. I took joy into making him my little baby. We grew apart over time, but my interest in being the 'mommy' never faded."

"So how did you become part of the AB/DL scene?"

"Well, it was by accident. I was searching for adult diapers on the Internet, and a web site popped up as one of the search results. It was called DPF..."

"Oh! Diaper Pail Friends? I've heard of that."

"Yeah, the site was around for a while. I joined the site, subscribed to their newsletters, attended events, and got myself involved. Then I realized that I could perhaps start a caretaking business after I saw all these stories posted in the newsletter about 'mommy' changing her boys. A lot of people were into that scenario. I thought, 'I could do that!' I started a business in hopes of targeting that audience, and it was like clockwork. Everything paid off. So here I am. Roger brought me over to put me in charge of diaper duty for the guests."

"Wow, that's awfully nice of him to do that to you," said Michael sarcastically. "I'm sure it would be problematic for you if you had a relationship with one of your clients, like giving special treatment, and so on."

"I forbid having intimate relationships at my business. I don't want to get in the habit of giving preferential treatment to someone who I'm in love with. If I'm dating someone, or in a relationship with someone, I'd put them on diaper duty with me, and make them work. I only have two hands. And when I'm not on business, anything goes." Jasmine smiled warmly.

"Yeah. I get ya. So how do you know Steve?"

"Before you came around, Steven was the youngest AB/DL in our group. All of us grew fond of the boy because he was just starting out with it, trying to figure out how to deal with everything. We saw something in him, and he reminded us of how we used to be at his age. He looked for guidance. For a while, he was a wild one, but that's what made him so irresistible. He's always been enthusiastic and kind. Always a joy to be around. You're lucky to have a guy like him."

"Thanks. Care to share any stories about how wild Steven was? He's so subdued now. It's hard to believe that he was wild and crazy. When I first met him, he was a gentleman. So eloquent." He impersonated an elegant, Victorian-British accent. "'Oh, dear sir, I'm afraid that I've deposited a large sum of matter into my disposable pantaloons!'"

Jasmine shook her head, chuckling. "Geeze. No way. Doubt that. Actually, I remember I once took Steve shopping in a grocery store. We met, had some lunch together, and he wanted to assist me on some errands. OK, fine with me. He got a big kick out of me buying baby diapers at the store because he knew who the diapers were for. I give my clients the option to put them in baby diapers if they can fit, that is. So... we were in the store. I bought some things, approached the checkout line. Suddenly, he freezes, holds his crotch, and leaks all over the floor in front of everyone -- and here I was with Pampers in my hands as I was about to put them on the checkout conveyor belt. It was embarrassing for the both of us. I told him that he was going to wear diapers from now on, and he looked like he was shot." She impersonated Steven's wide-eyed, blank stare. "All the color in his face was gone. He was petrified from the experience, but he later told me that he intended to wet in public -- just to see what it felt like. He just didn't expect it at that moment."

Michael opened his eyes wide in shock, and tilted his head. "I -- uh, wow. Deja vu."

"He liked doing that. He liked to diaper up in public because, as he put it, he liked wetting himself, feeling the warmth expanding between his legs, and nobody knowing how naughty he truly was. He looked to create trouble, and that's what gave him the most satisfaction. But that all changed after he went to San Francisco for a munch, and came back a different person."

"He went to a meet with other AB/DLs up there, right?"

"Yes. He told me that he didn't like the people up there, who were doing more or less the same things he was doing. I'm trying to remember what he told me." She rubbed her chin, and looked up at the ceiling. "He told me... basically that he saw other people wrapped up in themselves. He tried to connect with them, but they were more interested in what they could do for themselves more than being considerate about others around them. Oh, now I remember! It was like he was seeing his reflection in the mirror for the first time. He didn't like what he saw, and when he saw other people being as mischievous as he was, he tried to not be like them. He made a sincere effort to improve himself. I have a lot of respect for Steven because he's so thoughtful, and he's quick to admit he's made mistakes. He's a good kid, but he needs someone to be there for him to keep him centered."

"Centered, huh?" Michael drummed his fingers on the counter a few times. "Sounds like he confided in you quite a bit."

"Roger and I were his soundboard throughout the years. Roger observed, one day, that we were like his AB mother and father. We're all very close. We have a very tight-knit community. We know each other."

"That's neat. I'm glad that he had such supportive people in his life."

Jasmine nodded.

"I'm going to catch up with Steve. Thanks for the chat."

"You're welcome. Have fun!"

The party was overwhelmingly vibrant, and Steven was addicted to the energy. He bumped into Michael, who looked content and tranquil. Steven was thrilled to see Michael being integrated into a group of like-minded people. Steven was amazed at the party turnout; it was like a crowd appeared out of nowhere. After an hour of partying, Steven felt adventurous, and wanted to socialize with others. Even though he was a familiar face in the local AB/DL community, party-goers gave him very little consideration as they merely exchanged glances, and offered no conversations. This didn't bother Steven as much as it used to when he was younger. Instead, he appreciated the anonymity -- and being with his supportive boyfriend, nothing else mattered. He wasn't the wallflower sitting in the corner of the room anymore.

Michael found Steven by a table of alcoholic beverages that are not typically fit for an infant tongue. In Roger's dining room, there was a table that had a neatly arranged row of liquor. Michael began drinking first, and Steven followed.

Michael downed a shot of whiskey beside the table full of liquor bottles. After taking a swig, Michael slammed the shot glass down, and shook his head manically as a result of the sudden kick of alcohol that raced to his brain.

"Don't tell me you're going to stop at two shots?" teased Steven. Steven took a shot, and wiped his lips.

"I love peer pressure," Michael muttered sarcastically.

"Oh, come on! Lighten up!" Steven ruffled Michael's hair playfully.

"Remember the last time I got drunk? I came to your place in a onesie, and called you Spongebob."

"This is different, daddy! We're at a party. We're supposed to drink, and have fun."

Michael took another drink. "She's right. You are crazy."

"Who said I was?"

"Nevermind."

After an hour of drinking, Michael and Steven danced around the room with their arms flailing wildly in the air, and their feet wobbling uncontrollably like they were walking on stilts. Both men walked on the floor, which they thought was moving like the roughest waters of the sea. People's faces were harder to recognize. Michael's body felt heavy, numb, and out of sync with his mind, but he enjoyed the party nonetheless. Steven tried holding onto Michael's hand, but drifted away several times. He bumped into a few people, stumbled over small furniture, and on two occasions fell face-first onto someone's diaper. He couldn't think much, but when he tried, he reflected on his experiences as an "adult baby." The only sentence Steven could coherently form in his mind was, "What am I doing?"

Barely able to stand, Michael turned around to kiss Steven. "I love you," muttered Michael before he tried leaning up against Steven. At that moment, Steven briefly turned away from Michael -- and Michael crashed down on the floor with a loud thud. Once he hit the floor, Michael muttered, "Night-night."

Before losing consciousness, Michael could feel the vibrations of footsteps as people walked around him. Some looked down at him, and chuckled with pity. Others stood motionless, and appeared mostly apathetic. Concerned, Jasmine rushed over to Michael, and tried flipping him onto his back. Jasmine asked for help from others to move Michael away from the center of the living room. "Somebody had a little too much to drink," said Jasmine as she, and two other people, dragged his seemingly lifeless body to a nearby couch, and had him lay there. After moving Michael, Jasmine looked up from the couch, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and called Steven's name to no avail. She looked around for a few seconds, and waived her hand in front of Michael's face to see if he would wake. Michael was fast asleep. Jasmine cursed softly to herself, rose up from the couch, and walked away. She told one of the partygoers to keep a watchful eye on Michael.

"I have to get back to work," she told one of the men who helped move Michael. "What a heavy son of a gun."

As Michael remained unconscious on the living room couch, the party continued around him.

Overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle of the party, Jasmine was busy changing diapers of the attendees in the backyard, and at times showed expressions of disgust and disbelief. She changed them on a rubber mat outside with the help of a chest full of diapers, baby powder, and wipes inside. As automated as diaper-changing was to her, Jasmine felt that each diaper change took longer than the one before it. She kept thinking about Michael, a man she barely even knew, but she couldn't afford to be distracted. Roger hired Jasmine to be the "mommy-on-duty" for the party, and it was her responsibility to help change the guests, and keep them satisfied.

She looked up for a moment, and looked at the glass patio doors to see the party inside the house. At the moment she looked, Jasmine saw Roger pulling Steven's arm forcefully through the kitchen. She took a deep breath, and focused her eyes on Roger, who was acting suspiciously. Roger had moved Steven away from where Michael was, which aroused her suspicions even more. "Where is he taking him?" she wondered. She grimaced, looked down, and saw an older man in his 50s, laying on his back, and sucking his thumb in a profusely wet diaper. The man smiled, and giggled at Jasmine. She closed her eyes, shook her head, and tried to forget about her suspicions.

Roger led Steven to the master bedroom. Steven could barely keep his head up. At times, he couldn't walk, and his feet would drag on the floor. He stumbled in the hallway, and Roger helped him up. Steven coughed softly, and looked at the walls. He saw family portraits with Steven, his wife, and his daughters. There were photos of Roger accepting awards, posing with a giant scissors at ribbon-cutting ceremonies. Other photos showed him posing with various congressmen, real estate developers, and bankers.

"Where are we going?" Steven asked, slurring every other word.

"We're going to take a break from the party for a while," said Roger. "You've had a lot to drink."

Roger grabbed Steven by the hand, and escorted him into his large master bedroom. Roger shut the door behind him, and walked Steven to his king-sized bed. Steven took the initiative to sit down, but he fell to his side, and landed on a very fluffy, comfortable mattress. He spread his legs out, crinkling noisily for every slight movement. Roger rubbed his hands together, and gently rubbed Steven's forehead. Steven chuckled, and kicked up his legs playfully.

Roger sighed, and smiled down at his heavily intoxicated friend. "Oh, look at you. What a cute, little baby you are."

Steven replied in a high-pitched squeal, "I know!"

"I can't get enough of you, kiddo." Roger stroked Steven's hair, and caressed the side of his face.

"Roger?"

"You can call me 'daddy' if you like."

"Mike is 'daddy.'"

"In this house, he isn't."

Roger stood up, locked the bedroom door, and walked toward his closet. He opened the closet doors, rummaged through his drawers inside, and fetched a box of items. The box was labeled "PRIVATE" with a black marker. Roger set the large box on the floor beside the bed, and pulled out bondage tape. Steven turned to his side, and saw Roger with some tape. In his intoxicated stupor, Steven he was more curious than concerned about it. However, he also had a hard time keeping his eyes open. He felt his body getting heavier by the second, and he was slowly losing his ability to exercise free will. He was losing his sight. His ears were ringing relentlessly. Darkness was rapidly approaching. His arms and legs felt like they were attached to balls and chains. He felt like he was melting into the bed as his mind was slowly slipping into the subconscious. He opened his eyes a few times, and found himself in slightly different circumstances each time. He woke on occasion to find that his clothes were removed except for his diaper. The next time he woke, he felt his arms and legs were firmly bound in bondage tape.

Roger stood in front of the bed with his arms crossed, smiling at his restrained pray. After looking at his mentor's diabolical grin, Steven realized something wasn't right. He tried moving his arms, but he was perfectly bound to the bed -- and his legs were also completely restrained. He tried jerking his arms up in frustration, but couldn't move. Roger leaned a little closer over Steven, slowly raised an index fingers to his lips and went, "Shhhhhhh."

"Why... a... why are you...?" Steven could barely talk.

"Just relax. We can have a little fun, right?"

Steven could feel headphones around his ears. He looked up, and saw Roger talking, but couldn't make out what he was saying. All he could hear were Roger's words through the headphones. Steven realized he was listening to Roger's hypnosis CDs. "In five minutes, you're going to wet your diaper," said Roger in a recording. "You've wanted to wet for a long time, but you were told by your mommy that you were a big boy now. You want to prove her wrong. You're going to be a big baby, and it's going to feel good when you do it. You'll do it, and people will know right away that you have a wet diaper."

His bladder was suddenly feeling pressure. He could feel his loins throbbing, and becoming rigid. Steven was breathing heavily, trying to keep his mind from falling into Roger's hypnotic spell. His eyes darted around the room wildly. Finally, his eyes were fixated on Roger, who was trying to stimulate Steven by running his diaper seductively. Steven had developed a headache from trying to reconcile what was happening to him, but the only way to subdue the headache was to listen to the audio. Steven was left with no choice. He closed his eyes, focused on the words, and tried to stay awake. The alcohol continued to dull his senses. He still couldn't fathom what was happening to him.

With his joints aching, Michael woke up, feeling sore and utterly lost. Michael sat up, and looked around. Everything was still shaky to him from the walls to the floor. His eyesight was blurry, and his ears were ringing loudly. He managed to check his phone, which was in his jeans pocket. The clock on the phone showed Michael that an hour had passed since he fell on the floor. To stand, he held onto the coffee table beside him for support. He staggered around, and walked to the center of the living room. He asked if anyone saw Steve. Several people shrugged, shook their heads, and acted with indifference. He looked for a familiar face in the crowd, and couldn't find any. Everyone was a stranger. He decided to look from room to room for Steven.

The bathrooms were occupied. The three bedrooms in the house were locked. Michael wandered outside, and saw Jasmine, who sat down on a lawn chair facing Roger's large infinity pool with a panoramic view of the Malibu sunset. The fresh air helped Michael think a little better, and come to his senses a little quicker. He was concerned about Steven, and started to become suspicious. When she saw Michael walking agitatedly toward her, Jasmine waved him over.

"I think Roger took Steve," said Jasmine.

"What?!" he shouted. "Where to?"

"He was heading toward the west end of the house. I saw him take Steve by the arm, and didn't see the two come back out since --"

Michael ran back inside the house, and walked hurriedly down the hallway toward the western-most end of the house where the master bedroom was. He knocked on the door a few times, and called out Steven's name. Inside, Steven remained bound in bed with headphones on, but was squirming around. He couldn't hear Michael calling his name. Roger knew Michael was outside, and he wasn't going to leave. Standing a few feet from the door, Roger told Michael, "Hey Michael! I'm just getting dressed. I'll be out in a few, okay?"

"Is Steve in there with you?" asked Michael.

"No. I thought he went over to check up on you."

Jasmine walked up to Michael, and stood by the door with him. "Roger, what's going on in there?" Jasmine asked tersely.

"I said I'm getting dressed. I'll be right there."

"Just open the door," Jasmine snapped. "Come on."

"Roger, I've been looking for Steven all over the place. I was told he's with you. What's going on?" Michael tried jerking the doorknob. It was locked. Michael pounded on the door. He looked around the hallway, thinking of a way to get inside the master bedroom. He turned to Jasmine, who rushed down the hallway, zipped around the house in search for any available keys. Meanwhile, Michael tried jerking the doorknob, and pushing into the door. He turned the doorknob to the left, jiggled it once he heard the lock click back into the door itself and unlock. Michael opened the door, and saw Roger on his bed with Steven. Roger sat on his knees in bed, facing Steven. Roger turned around, saw Michael, and gave a very frightened look. Steven managed to catch a brief glimpse of Michael. He was relieved.

"What are you doing to him?" shouted Michael.

Roger leaped from the bed, and raised his hands in surrender. "Nothing! Nothing!" said Roger.

Michael stopped, and lowered his clenched fist. "I thought you were his friend."

Roger sighed, and looked at Steven. "Thought we could have some fun together."

Michael removed the headphones from Steven's ears. "Steve, are you alright, buddy?"

Steven looked up at Michael. "Yeah. Head is killing me, though."

"What happened?" Michael asked Steven.

"Roger brought me here, tied me up. Don't remember much of it. Oh God, my head..."

"Steven trusted you as a confidant, and you betrayed his trust. Who would do such a thing like that?" Michael removed the bondage tapes one by one, and freed Steven. Michael grabbed Steven's hand, and brought him up.

"A horny old toad," Roger admitted. "Look, I want no trouble. I meant no harm, whatsoever. I got my reputation on the line here. Please don't call the cops."

Steven remembered looking at the photos of Roger in the hallway. "Fine. I'm not going to hold a grudge," said Steven. Michael looked at Steven with surprise. "I just want to go home."

Roger went to his drawers beside the bed, and gave Steven his clothes back. He looked remorseful. With all the wealth and resources at his disposal, Roger was capable of taking advantage of Steven, and getting away with it. His conscience wound up destroying an ambition he had for several years. And yet, his desire to experiment with his sexuality remained a priority. Roger's pent-up lust reached its peak when he saw Steven in his onesie. He could not think of anything else, but having intercourse with the much-younger man. Now, Roger obsessed with the notion that Steven would still inform the police about what happened. He could see the camaraderie between Steven and him quickly dissolve into a fiery inferno.

"I'm sorry, guys," said Roger, bowing his head. He sat down on the bed. His voice turned coarse. "I'm so sorry. What can I do to..."

Outside the door, a small group of concerned party-goers had formed in the hallway. Jasmine stood by the closed door, preventing anyone from entering. "The party's over. Thanks for coming," she told everyone.

Overhearing the conversation outside, Steven went up to the door, and told Jasmine, "Hey. Everything's fine."

"All I'd ask you to do is to keep your hands off my boyfriend from now on. He looked up to you, Roger. He told me you two were like the best of friends. He's with me, and I love him with every fiber of my being. If not for him, I would have beaten you within an inch of your miserable life. You have all this money. You have a wife, you have a family, and you have a large support network of people. Yet you're still unhappy, so you wanted to take something that wasn't yours. I can't believe how selfish you are!"

Roger remained silent, and swallowed his pride.

"Stop, Michael," said Steven. "Let's go."

Exasperated, Michael rubbed his burning eyes. He took Steven by the hand, and led him outside the bedroom. Without saying goodbye to anyone at the party, Michael and Steven left. Michael drove up the Pacific Coast Highway, which was now covered in fairly dense fog. He took his time driving home, and felt no need to rush back knowing that Steven was unharmed, and fast asleep in the passenger seat. He wasn't entirely aware of Steven's past, and the extent of his relationship with Roger, but he felt comfortable knowing that he was safe and sound. After a while, the road ahead became more visible, and the fog covering Malibu had lifted. Michael knew he was closer to home.

Once the car stopped, Steven's eyes opened briefly to look out the window, and saw his apartment. Michael got out of the car to help Steven. Steven told Michael that he was able to walk fine on his own, though the alcohol prolonged his dizziness. All he could think about was how strange the night was. He rambled to himself about how he was never going to another AB/DL party. Michael said nothing as he walked alongside Steven, and helped him open the door to his apartment. Once inside, Michael turned on the living room lights, and escorted Steven to the bedroom.

Like it was a life-long routine, Michael undressed Steven's onesie, laid him on the bed, and changed his dirty diaper. Steven sighed, and rested his head comfortably on a pillow. Steven knew that Michael was tired like he was because Michael's diaper-changing was slower, more methodical, with little enthusiasm. It felt like a heavy burden was lifted when Steven's soiled diaper was removed. It felt cumbersome, to say the least -- and with the tension, wearing the diaper felt more like a chore than something enjoyable. The hypnosis worked, but Steven didn't want to believe that at first. Once a new diaper was put on him, Steven rolled over in bed, curled into a fetal position, and stared at the small clock on his end table. 11:20 PM. He wanted to apologize to Michael, but "daddy" would have none of it. He took Steven's bed blanket, and pulled it over Steven's body. He tucked Steven in, caressed the big baby's hair, and pushed it over his forehead. Michael knelt beside the bed, looked at Steven in the eyes, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good night," said Michael.

Steven reached out to touch Michael's face. "You still love me, right?"

"Sure. As long as we keep away from alcohol."

Steven chuckled faintly. "Alright. You win. Deal."

[Horndog]

-12-

The sun shined through Steven's bedroom blinds, which provided some much-needed warmth inside. There were birds chirping outside the window. They could be heard singing while hopping excitedly from tree branch to tree branch with ease. Laying with his head against the bed frame, Michael slept on the floor and guarded his boyfriend, who was resting comfortably in bed. Michael lifted an eye open after feeling his head throbbing. He couldn't believe what happened the night before. It was completely unexpected, yet here they were unscathed. He barely slept throughout the night, and managed to watch the sun rise from the window. All he could think about was how disturbing the experience was, and how it unraveled. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Though he didn't do anything wrong or was remotely complicit in any wrongdoing, Michael felt ashamed. The shame was not something he could easily wash off his skin.

Michael felt he was part of the problem. He allowed his new-found sexuality to dictate the choices he was making. He understood that if he left his thirst for sexual gratification unregulated, he would ultimately turn into Roger, or someone who would cross the boundaries of decency to act in previously unfathomable ways. He saw the dark side of a sexual fetish he came to closely identify with, and it now haunted him. Michael was smart enough to see that Roger was more or less an isolated case, but he was also aware of situations when people acted on their "adult baby" inclinations while using false pretenses. Michael read the news. He read about men who posed as mentally ill patients and car accident victims who needed their diapers changed. They would post ads on sites like Craigslist, and receive replies from unsuspecting victims. The victims would think they were taking care of someone who actually needed it, but they would eventually discover that they were inadvertently catering to a man's perverse whims. Deception was part of the stereotype attached to the AB/DL fandom; Michael didn't expect to witness it so soon after he first mused about the community.

Steven tossed and turned in bed before stretching his arms and yawning. He felt like his body was bruised, beaten, and over-stretched. His eyelids were heavy. He felt unshaven, unorganized, and unwell. Depression had consumed him, turning his good-natured disposition into raw cynicism. He didn't want to wake up that morning. For some reason, Steven felt compelled to open his eyes, at least -- and he did. He looked around the bed, and saw Michael laying up against his bed on the floor. He slowly pulled the sheets off of his chest, and moved a few inches closer to Michael.

"Hey," Steven whispered to Michael.

Michael rubbed the top of his forehead. "What?"

"I said, 'Hey,'" chirped Steven.

"That's what I thought you said."

"Can we talk?"

Michael sighed. "I'm not going anywhere."

"For the past few months, I've had a lot of fun with you. We laughed, we played around. Watching you perform your stand-up last week was a thrill. I just feel that maybe I led you down a road that took you to a very dark place. Words cannot express how sorry I feel for exposing you to that. I thought that I could introduce you to the local group, and you can meet people. Thought that maybe I was doing something that aptly showed my gratitude for you supporting me, and being there. I don't want to lose you."

"Did you have, or do you have a relationship with Roger that I'm not aware of? Tell me the truth, Steve."

Steven sunk back into bed. "Well, I --"

"Because I find it hard to believe that he just singled you out, took you to his bedroom, and you didn't resist."

"No, I was drunk. I barely remember anything that happened then."

"Still, though... Something doesn't add up. If I was at a party, and I was hosting, the last thing on my mind would be to take a drunk guy back to my bedroom, tie him up, and have sex -- unless, of course, the person I'm taking with me was pushing me to do that sort of thing. I don't know."

"I'm telling the truth!" Steven snapped. "I remember walking around the party with you. You passed out. Everything was a blur from that point to when you took me back home."

Michael stood up. "Wait a second. I remember coming into the bedroom, seeing you there. Yeah, you were tied up and everything, but you were conscious, and responding to what I was saying to you. You don't remember that? That was a blur to you? Speaking again hypothetically, if I was tied up against my will, I'd scream. I'd make it absolutely clear that I was in trouble."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Steven whined. "I really don't remember a lot of what happened. I had a lot to drink. Look, Mike, I know it was strange, but from the bottom of my heart, what happened was out of my control."

Michael stood silently for a moment, and rubbed the side of his head. Exasperated, he shrugged, and paced around the room. He pointed to Steven, who sat motionless in bed. "If you want to continue this relationship with me, you need to stay away from that man. You understand?"

"But I --"

"No, no. Quiet for a second. Jasmine told me that you and Roger were close. He was your compadre. I get it, and you're conflicted about that. But you need to forget about him. The AB/DL scene is screwed up if he's the master and commander of it. From now on, you need to put those people behind you."

"What about Jasmine?"

"I don't know. Just... forget it."

After getting fully dressed, Michael walked out of the bedroom, grabbed his car keys from the coffee table in the living room, and left Steven's apartment. He refused to think about it any further. The delicate balance between being the "baby," being the "daddy," and the intimacy -- that served as a byproduct for the lifestyle that he chose to endure -- was completely and utterly destroyed. When he even tried to entertain the idea of dressing up, and playing with toys inside a playpen, his mind automatically diverted to the scene he saw at the party. Nothing could erase that infamous moment from his memory.

He drove home with a sense of desperation. He wanted to go to his apartment, and remove everything baby-related in sight. But something prevented him from actually following through with it. He stood in the middle of his apartment, quietly looked around, and remained deep in thought. He thought about the nightmare that featured his family as they ridiculed him for being a "baby." That particular dream haunted him mercilessly. But he felt a sense of responsibility, a sense of purpose in life that kept him from going over the edge. He was disgusted by the events that unfolded the day before, but he took pride in helping Steven, and being there for him. However, he remained suspicious of Steven. The circumstances were definitely unusual: being tied in bondage, and stripped down to a diaper. It seemed consensual to the naked eye. Michael couldn't fully grasp the idea that Steven was so intoxicated that he couldn't resist.

Michael spent the rest of the day trying to restore the routines he lived by before he developed an interest in infantilism. He spent a few hours sitting in his living room, drinking coffee and writing comedy material on his laptop. He would sometimes take a break by playing Solitaire or habitually checking his e-mail, and waiting for an e-mail from Steven. He tapped his fingers on the laptop keyboard, closed his eyes, and sighed heavily in an attempt to restore some sanity. When he was done writing jokes, he cleaned up his apartment, vacuumed the floors, and cleaned up the mess that he was once proud of. The diaper pail was emptied into black plastic bags. The bed was made. The playpen was folded up, and stored in the closet. All the random toys and figures were put away. The apartment still looked youthful and cheery, but it looked more organized and cleaner than before. Michael felt accomplished.

The only article of baby clothing -- that he didn't put away -- with his blue onesie, which laid on top of his bed. He looked down at it, and smiled faintly. Without another thought, he removed all his clothes except for his tight briefs, and walked into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. He turned the water on, and steam quickly clouded the mirror in front of him. He wanted to look at the man he became, but the steam prevented him from getting a good look. He stepped into the bathtub, and immediately felt the cathartic drops of hot water splashing against his chest. He enjoyed the water's warm embrace for several minutes. He lathered his body with body wash, and rubbed his shoulders, which experienced random jolts of pain throughout the day as a result of his fall. He could feel the bruises on his right elbow, and the side of his face. It was a reminder to never act carelessly in the company of strangers.

He used the toilet for the first time in a few months. Right after stepping out of the shower, he unleashed a stream of urine that was fully controlled -- as it was going to a place he wanted it to go to. Not in his pants. Not in the driver seat of his car. There was a sense of normality coming from a task normally perceived as mundane but necessary by most people. Once he was done, Michael said to himself, "I'm a bid kid now," before chuckling softly. He wrapped a towel around his waist, flushed the toilet, and washed his hands. The desires -- he once obsessively catered to -- were merely perceived as a passing fad for Michael. It wasn't necessary.

The onesie remained untouched on his bed. It was getting colder in the evening, and he wanted to dress warmly before bed. Normally, he would wear his baby clothes, lay in bed, and suck his thumb, but tonight was different. He wanted to prove to himself that he could last the night without diapers or stuffed animals. He wanted to prove he was still a man, and not a child -- but something didn't seem right. He already knew that he was, indeed, an adult man with adult obligations. He was, of course, comfortable being himself. He asked himself why he needed to "prove" anything to anyone, including himself. Was he simply trying too hard to be "normal"? Just when he was about to pull the covers over his body, and get settled into bed, he heard his smartphone vibrating on the end table beside him. He reached for the phone, and noticed he received an e-mail. It was from Steven.

The e-mail read:

"Mike, saying 'I'm sorry!' is just empty words. Apologizing doesn't take away from what happened yesterday. I could insist that I'm telling the truth about it, but you'll doubt me -- and I understand that. So let me just say a few things just to get them off my chest, OK?

"Roger and I were friends for a long time. I met him on an AB/DL message board. I posted a photo of myself, and he wrote to me, saying how 'hot' I was. Before long, I started writing back to him, and talked about a lot of things: love, wealth, society, diapers, etc. We agreed on a lot of things, and having all these common interests turned me on -- so I ended up visiting him, and spending time with his family. After a while, it was like he was my uncle, and I was his nephew. We'd spent time together. Whatever feelings we had for each other disappeared. Thinking about me being with him was almost incestuous, you know? Apparently he didn't feel the same way as I did.

"Yesterday, I remember having drinks with you, and teasing you about that. Then, my memory went a little fuzzy after you fell. When I saw you face-down on the floor, I thought about going to sleep. You passed out. I could've swore I remember saying to someone that I was looking for a place to crash in the house. Roger offered his bed in the bedroom. Next I remember, my body was bound all over. It was weird. I didn't expect Roger to do that to me. I assumed he was going to sexually assault me, so I panicked. I didn't scream or shout because I didn't know what he was going to do. Was he going to kill me? He was in a position to. If word got out that he tried to rape a man, that would cost him his marriage, and his reputation. I stayed quiet. Then you came in, and I couldn't have been happier to see you.

"Thank you for helping me. I don't know what would have happened if you didn't come to help me. Nobody would have stepped in. People love Roger. He's everyone's best friend. 'Roger wouldn't do anything like that!' That's how people would spin it. And I was the guy who wanted to get into all sorts of trouble. It was an easy set-up. But anyway, I'm glad you've stuck with me for this long. If our relationship were to end today, I would tell you that I've had the best two months of my life with you that I'd never want to take back. You're funny, crazy, handsome, and a fun daddy. I hope everything works out eventually. I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am... and I'm looking forward to bragging to people that I dated a famous comedian! I'll just leave out the 'diaper' part for the tabloids later.

"XOXOXO - Steven Hunt"

Michael laid back on his pillow in bed, smiling uncontrollably. The smile was getting wider and wider. He finally felt at peace with everything. He appreciated Steven's heartfelt explanation. The e-mail served as a call for Michael to let go of the past, and the uncaged anger that ravaged inside him. He unclenched his fist, and let his fingers lay motionlessly on the bed. He took a deep breath, looked at his onesie one more time before crawling out of bed, and putting it on with a fresh diaper underneath.

That night, he revisited the nightmare. As he sat in his crib, he looked between the bars to see a group of adults standing before him. They expressed their disapproval, but the voices weren't as intimidating as before. The message wasn't as aggressive and threatening like before. His parents were there, scolding him for not doing enough to improve himself. Their scolding was softened by warm compliments, such as the ones his mother gave him.

"Honey, I just want you to do well. That's all I ever wanted," said his mother as she picked him up, and twirled him around playfully. "I only want the best for my little boy!"

Michael's father made silly faces, and entertained his son, who was an infant in this dream. "My, my! Look at you, kid! We all want to be young again at some point in our lives, so there's no fault for at least trying. As long as you do the right thing for yourself, I'll continue to be one proud papa!"

Michael reached out to touch his father's face. He could feel his skin, and wrap his fingers around his father's golden smile that was famous for. It was like his father was alive, giving his blessings before fading back into the past that Michael fondly remembered -- the good times. Tears welled in his eyes because it was a joyous moment, though it was a dream and he knew it was a dream.

"I love you," said Michael in a chipper, infantile voice. Those were the words he was able to say, but say so proudly.

His brother, Paul, was a toddler in his dream. He ran around the room, daring Michael to catch him. "You're 'it,' stinky!" shouted his brother, who had to fight a strong case of the giggles. Paul ran around the silhouettes of Michael's friends, both young and old; friends from several time periods in his life. He recognized a few of his friends from his time spent in elementary school. Other friends were from high school and college. They all took turns on holding Michael in their arms, and rocking him gently back and forth. Michael was giggling uncontrollably, and kicking his feet. After a while, he was placed back in his crib. The dream ended after everyone in the room took out a bubble wand, and blew hundreds of bubbles in the air. In the crib, Michael was able to look at each bubble. Some of the bubbles depicted scenes from his life that he found to be exhilarating.

In one of the bubbles, Michael saw himself, as an adult, performing comedy at a comedy club. In another bubble, he saw himself in a movie -- starring opposite Will Ferrell -- about two inmates who were able to run an asylum by themselves. Another bubble showed him at his own Hollywood Walk of Fame ceremony with his partner, Steven, holding his hand beside him. They stood outside the Kodak Theatre before a dozen flashing cameras. All these scenarios seemed so realistic. In his infant state, Michael tried to reach for the bubbles. That is when he woke up from the dream. It was eight in the morning, and he was motivated to take on the world after nearly 30 years of being tormented with indifference. Changes had to be made, and he was finally ready.

[Horndog]

-13-

Michael performed at the Comedy Store, and received lots of applause from the audience. After studying comedy acts from legends like George Carlin, Robin Williams, and Lenny Bruce, he managed to craft original material using anecdotes from his life, and transforming them into absurdities that the audience could relate to. He joked about old people who drive poorly, leaving the gas station with the gas pump still attached. He talked about politicians who always try to "out-crazy" each other. "You say you're for individual mandates, but you ride unicorns. Your argument is invalid." He talked about the prevalence of cats on the Internet, and the subsequent decline of civilization as a result. Michael felt energized, and his confidence was showing. He paraded around the stage like he walked on it a thousand times before.

"I'm not a fan of smartphones, and the kids who use them. When I was a kid, we had phones that required you to press on the number button -- I mean, like really press it in there. That was called 'exercise' in the 1990s."

The audience laughed.

"And that was, like, thirty to fourty years after people used that crank dial. I always found that smoke signals were a lot easier... in the 1970s." Michael pretended to roll a marijuana joint on stage. "'Hey man, like, yeah. I smelled it, so I'm here! What's up, Rocketman?'"

Michael walked to the front of the stage, stared at a familiar face, and winked. "I don't know we made it past the 70s. There were drugs. There was sex. And, you know, tight 'Boogie Nights' jeans that cut blood circulation to your junk. Horrible times. Fortunately, I was born in the 80s: where AIDS and 'A Flock of Seagulls' could be mentioned in one sentence. Just awful!"

Steven sat in the audience, watching attentively and laughing even when others weren't. Steven looked older. He sported fuzzy blonde sideburns, and a partially shaven goatee. He wore a dark blue shirt under a leather jacket and black jeans. He looked more established. It was an intentional personal transformation from a man -- who once tried to, at the very least, dress colorfully like a toddler -- to someone who was more sure of himself and appreciative of his adulthood. Both he and his boyfriend enjoyed the infantilist roleplaying in the comfort of their bedrooms, but it wasn't an extremely common pastime. It was something that happened once in a while, whenever they were mutually in the mood for it. It was simply a little secret that both of them shared.

Later in the performance that night, Michael joked about infants. "You know, I'd like to be a parent someday, well, because -- for one -- I'm sadistic. I will change their diapers. I will clean their poop. I will get surprised by an unexpected stream of somethin' fierce, but I will smile. Boy, I will grin so wide from ear to ear. I will lean closer to their tiny, pointed devil ears, and remind them that they will be raised to one day change me when I'm old. With whatever teeth or gums I have left, I will laugh."

A year had passed since Michael and Steven attended Roger's party. For a while, that remained an issue that neither of them wanted to talk about candidly. Steven had received an apology e-mail from Roger, but Roger had already faded into Steven's conveniently distant past. Steven did think about Roger from time to time, but it was only in reference to the friendship they had prior to the incident. He appreciated being introduced to people like Mommy Jasmine, and other AB/DL community members, but he now felt that the network Roger established was part of a different universe that he did not belong to. However, he was keen on starting his own network of AB/DL friends. After all, Michael and Steven both agreed that the AB/DL experience was much more stimulating when they were in the company of like-minded people -- but only if he was the one to make the social events happen.

Diapers weren't worn and used as often as before. Michael wore only when it was convenient for him. He was hired to do IT networking for a business run by Steven's former college roommate. He earned enough money to cover his rent and additional living expenses. The work included hours of sitting in his seat, working diligently on resolving networking issues that constantly appeared on his desktop. He sat cozily wearing a thick disposable diaper underneath his clothes. It felt like a fluffy little fortress of protection that surrounded his legs, and it gave him the security to proceed with work without being hassled by bathroom breaks. On some days, he would binge on several cans of Coca-Cola and keep his momentum going while soaking his diaper completely.

Steven continued to work at Starbucks, and was finally promoted to manager. The pay raise was minimal, but the company was able to cut back on his hours, which meant he could spend more time with Michael. However, the raise was not enough to break even with the rent every month, so he give his landlord one-month notice, and moved in with his boyfriend. After a while, waking up in the middle to have his diaper changed was as routine as preparing a cup of coffee or brushing teeth. Being the "daddy," Michael happily changed Steven -- and sometimes Steven would change him if he was lucky. They spent their days going on walks, road trips, and coming home to watch The Flintstones and The Muppets on Netflix. Steven had the best times with Michael when he was able to sprawl on top of his lover in bed, wearing only a diaper, brushing up against Michael's own absorbent undergarment without a single care in the world. Steven enjoyed his "big daddy" cuddling him. The sex was enjoyable too.

Stardom was inevitable for Michael. A man approached Michael after a show one night, and asked him to audition for a TV show pilot that was set to air on ABC-TV. Though Michael nervously stumbled at the beginning of the audition, he was able to ultimately impress casting, and land a role on the comedy sitcom, "What Happened to Evan?" as the lead protagonist. Michael played Evan, an alcoholic playboy who always got into trouble -- and his hapless friends were always there to bail him out. The ratings were impressive because Michael was known for pushing the boundaries of basic cable in a way that audiences couldn't resist watching.

During the airing of the show's first season, TMZ.com and other Hollywood gossip sites mused about his sexuality, and rumors that he liked dressing up as a baby. Fortunately, none of that tabloid speculation mattered. Nobody seemed to care, and "coming out" was something he was planning on doing at a later time. It wasn't important.

Michael hired Steven to be his personal assistant, and got Steven to resign from Starbucks. $8.25 an hour was no longer something that Steven could tolerate. Steven was grateful for Michael's success and aggressive determination. To keep Michael modest, both men decided to move to a small house in a safer neighborhood with a shorter driving distance to the studio where his sitcom was shot. As they grew and expanded their personal horizons, neither Michael nor Steven forgot how they met each other. After the movers moved in all of the furniture and cartons from his old apartment, Michael talked about the past with Steven in their private, lush backyard overlooking the bright city lights of Hollywood. They sat at a white-colored wood garden patio set, looked around, and tried to absorb everything that happened to them since they first met.

"It's really nice today," said Steven, looking up at the clouds. "Beautiful evening."

Michael reached for his can of Coca-Cola on the patio table, and took a sip. He tried to contain himself after a day's worth of pent-up adrenaline kept him restless. "Oh yeah!" said Michael. "Reminds me of the night of our first date."

"How so?"

"At the time, I was going through a lot. I broke up with my previous boyfriend of three years. I was struggling to find myself while working many night shifts at the Verizon store, and doing comedy. I was doing so many things, thinking of so many things, and wanting to accomplish so much that in reality, I was just standing there and doing nothing at all. I was stuck in thought. Then I met you. It was an evening like this one. We hit it off right away -- or that's what I thought, anyway -- and you eventually introduced me to the idea of becoming the baby; becoming a more simplified version of myself. From that center, I was able to explore my interests on a much larger scale than ever before. I got to reevaluate the things I've enjoyed childhood, and in the process, I let my guard down."

"That had its consequences," Steven reminded Michael.

"Yeah, it did, and the experience taught me how to appreciate adulthood as much as childhood. Checks and balances. I always enjoyed, though, how you sorta helped unlock a part of me to help explore the 'baby' side of me. From that point on, the pendulum swung both ways, and I grew to accept my role as a 'daddy.' Not like gay, leather-clad hairy bear kind of 'daddy,' but being 'daddy' in a sense that I get to take care of someone who I love dearly. And you've been there for me when I needed you. I love the mutual respect."

Steven tilted his head a little, and smiled warmly at Michael. "I do too," Steven confessed. "Personally, I'm humbled to be in the company of someone who is so exuberant, talented, kind, and a bit of a wise-ass. When I met you, and you hugged me, I was like, 'Oh man, date ruined. He found out my secret,' but you were surprisingly accepting of it. Other people I've known would run to the hills with disgust. You appreciated me for who I am, and what I enjoyed. You even got in on the action, so that blew away my expectations right there."

Michael looked down at his thick, disposable diaper. He chuckled, and looked back at Steven, who was also wearing diapers and nothing else. "Sorta, kinda... yeah," Michael muttered.

"I never took for granted the fact that I actually had someone to bounce off of, and be as vulnerable as I wanted to be. I didn't have to hide anything, make pretend, or do anything to compromise my identity. Another thing I realized -- being with you -- was that it wasn't necessary to throw myself into strange situations with strange people in order to find happiness. It dawned on me one day. I got someone who loves me, and cares for me. I already found happiness, and nothing could make me happier than being with someone who loves me. It's cliched, I know, but it's true."

"Thanks, but you don't have to restrict yourself because of me. If there are AB/DL parties, I'll go to them, but..."

"You can't. The media's watching you now," said Steven with a slight nod.

"Then we bring the party to us."

Steven raised an eyebrow. "Surely, you can't be serious."

"I am serious, and don't call me Shirley. Look, Charlie Sheen parties with 'goddesses' and porn stars. Why can't we have our own little get-togethers? Make it like an exclusive club that has people swearing to secrecy."

"So what if someone talks to the press about it?"

"Whatever, man. We should have fun, and not hold anything back. Want to play some 'Hungry Hungry Hippos' with Kanye West?"

"Please don't go there," Steven chuckled nervously. "I'm satisfied with a simple diaper change, and a cuddle by the fireplace. I'm easy to please!"

And when the full moon appeared over the twilight sky, Michael pressed his lips against Steven's inside their living room. The fire was crackling in the fireplace. Nothing else was stirring inside the house against the two men, who were fondling each other's diapers. Here, Michael and Steven ruled supreme. Nothing could stop them from having a wild night. All the curtains on the living room windows were closed. Nobody could see inside the house. The house was quiet on the outside, but crinkly inside. They laid on the carpet in front of their fireplace, rubbing each other down.

Michael laid underneath Steven, and rubbed the young diapered lad's chest from behind. Michael moved his busy hands down to Steven's diaper, which was warm and getting warmer. He could smell Steven's heavy, musky scent fill his nostrils as Steven wet his diaper. Steven wet himself like a shameless infant. Michael was getting harder from feeling the dampness creep around his fingertips. Michael could barely contain his arousal. It made his diaper feel tighter than usual. The pressure was there, just begging to release. Michael squeezed Steven's diapered front so aggressively, it made Steven gasp with pleasure. Steven moaned even louder when he felt his daddy's pointed, diapered bulge grazing his lower back. The sexual dominance exhibited by Michael was something only a true 'daddy' could provide.

The couple moved to the bedroom. Michael mounted Steven from behind, and humped him furiously. Michael's bare, blush-red cheeks dripped with sweat as he rode Steven. In this moment, Michael was no longer the clumsy, indecisive 20-something that Steven once knew. This was Michael at his prime. He stood, looking down at Steven's back with a determined look in his eyes. He told Steven that he was a "bad baby" who deserved his "punishment." Steven's heart raced faster with the dirty talk that poured into his ears. He felt Michael inside of him, pulsating wildly like an uncaged beast who longed for a lasting, memorable thrill. Steven winced when faced with a cocktail of pleasure and pain. Regardless, he kept his poise, making sure everything was tight, and met with some pleasurable resistance.

When he was done, Michael rubbed Steven's shoulders, kindly brushed the sweat off his back, and carefully pulled away. Steven crawled into bed, and pulled the sheets over his body. He took a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes. Michael threw the used diapers away in the diaper pail near the bed, and washed his hands in the master bathroom. Michael stretched his arms and legs like he was preparing for a long jog. Steven opened his eyes, jerked his head up to see what his boyfriend was doing in the bathroom. Michael stretched a few more times before yawning and scratching the back of his neck. He was exhausted. It was the first day in their new house, and the amount of physical work to get everything in order had already taken its toll -- but the sex had completely drained him of energy.

"Come to bed, Mikey," said Steven. "Got a spot open."

Michael turned off the bathroom light, and slowly walked back into the bedroom. "Nope... not yet," said Michael, panting. "It's cold tonight."

Michael went over to the closet, brought out a pink and red-striped onesie for Steven, and laid it out on the bed. He took out a diaper, and placed it beside the onesie. Next came the baby powder and some wipes. Steven rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! You don't have to do all of this now!" he whined.

"Up, up!" Michael gestured Steven to remove the sheets.

Michael took one of the baby wipes, and wiped Steven clean. He painstakingly wiped around Steven's posterior, crotch, and underneath his belly button. It felt refreshing for Steven. Michael subsequently sprinkled the baby powder, and created a cloud of white dust over the bed. Both men coughed and giggled in the middle of the cloud. "It's all business," joked Michael while rubbing the powder into Steven's silky, smooth skin.

"Sure it is," Steven retorted sarcastically. He could feel the diaper being placed comfortably under his rear. When the front part of the diaper was moved over his crotch, Steven tried batting his partner's hand away. "No, no. You've done more than enough. I can take care of the rest."

Michael smiled, and raised a finger up to Steven's lips. "I'm almost done," Michael calmly told him. Michael adjusted the tapes, and had them tightly squeeze around Steven's waist. Steven was grateful for having a new diaper put on, but he showed Michael a scowl. He felt guilty for allowing Michael to diaper and dress him, knowing full well that his caretaker was tired. Ultimately, he decided to keep quiet and cooperate with Michael as he helped him into his onesie.

Wiping his forehead, Michael acknowledged that his final task of the night was done. He got into bed, kissed Steven good night, and turned off the lights. Steven hummed softly to himself, and paused briefly. "Wait, I --"

Michael turned to his side, facing an end table on his side of the bed, which had a blue pacifier on it. He took the pacifier, and stuck it in Steven's mouth. "Good night, Stevie," muttered Michael. A few seconds later, a squeaky fart could be heard. The sound got Michael rolling out of bed. Once he got his feet on the floor, Michael walked hastily out of the bedroom, lifted his nose in the air, and grimaced at Steven. "Son of a bitch!" he cursed.

"After all that!"

Fin.

[Gawain]

Thank you. I'm sad to see the last chapter, but I'm rather grateful you finished it! Good work. I'm not an AB, but your writing still kept me reading.

[september]

absolutely breathtaking