My New Mommy: Updated November 21, 2022

[spark]

Becoming the Adult toddler: Part 2

I must have been tired.  Either that or I was emotionally spent because I slept like a baby.  I don’t know how long I slept.  My diaper was wet, but it was already wet when I fell asleep.   As a fifty-eight-year-old man, I was used to waking up in the middle of the night.  I usually woke up, peed in my diaper, and fell back asleep.  When I do, I always checked the time on my phone, or bedside clock.

I couldn’t see anything through the rails, so I had to get on my knees.  Michelle took away the clock, and she had my phone.   There was no way for me to know what time it was.   I just had to wait for Michelle to wake up.  But I had no idea how much longer that would be.

I always wanted to sleep in a crib, so this was a dream come true.    I didn’t want it to ever end, so I just went back to sleep. For the rest of the night, I would fall asleep, wake up, roll over, pee, and then go back to sleep.  I probably did that four or five times before I couldn’t sleep anymore.

My bowels started to rumble, and I knew I had to poo.  I thought about crying out but decided against it.  I knew that Michelle liked to sleep in on Saturdays, and I didn’t want to wake her up.  I saw light peek through the blinds and hoped she would be up soon.   I waited and then heard some action from the kitchen.  I figured that was Michelle, and she would come in to wake me up.

But she didn’t come, and I started to wonder if she was doing this on purpose.  Did she want me to poop in my diaper?  Was she even willing to change a poopy diaper?  I always had mixed feelings when I pooped in a diaper.   It felt naughty, which was always a trigger, but then I would snap back to reality when I had to clean it up.   I hated cleaning up after a poopy diaper and didn’t think Michelle would want to do that either.  Why would Michelle want to change a poopy diaper?

I grew more impatient.  Maybe Jessica was up, and Michelle didn’t want to play our baby games around her.  I decided to get out of the crib and poo in the toilet.  I didn’t think Michelle meant it literally when she told me to stay in my crib.

I couldn’t climb over the rails.  In my younger days, I might have been able to jump over the rails and land on the floor, but those days were long gone.  I tried to push the rails, but they were secure, and I didn’t want to ruin the crib.  Eventually, I figured out how to lower the rails, but that was much easier from the outside than from inside the crib.

I only got a few steps out of the room when Michelle saw me.  She immediately shouted, “What are you doing out of your crib?”  The words were strong, firm, and slow.  It was the tone and pace that you would use to reprimand a small child.

Michelle put a pacifier in my mouth before I could say anything. “I told you to stay in your crib.  You were naughty.”  She took a firm hold of my hand and said, “Come here.” 

She dragged me to the couch.  “I’m sorry that I’m doing this, but you have to listen to mommy.  Do you understand?”   I knew what was going to happen, but I was too shocked to say anything.  Michelle tapped her lap and said, “Lie on your stomach.”  I did, and she said, “Move your butt over my lap.”  She lowered my diaper; “I didn’t do this with my other kids, but I guess it’s necessary for big babies like you.”

I tried to relax my butt cheeks; hoping to make it hurt less.   Michelle only weighs about 110 pounds, but her first swat was hard.  It hurt, and I yelped, “OW!”

I spit the pacifier out.  Michelle put it back in my mouth.  “Keep the binky in your mouth.  You can cry if you want to, but this is supposed to hurt.”

I’ve read scenes where mommies and daddies spank their littles to teach them a lesson.  The littles don’t like it but feel cleansed after.  But I didn’t feel any of that.  I was confused because mommy was hurting me. I just wanted her to stop.   I was too afraid to drop the pacifier to cry, so I didn’t cry. I don’t know how many times she spanked me.   I lost count and just closed my eyes waiting for her to finish.  It wasn’t a whole lot, but each one hurt worse than the one before.

She finished, pulled up my diaper, and lifted me off her lap.  I looked like I had seen a ghost.  Michelle noticed and brought me in close.  She held me tight and gently rocked back and forth like she did the night before.  “I’m sorry I did that honey, but you need to listen to mommy.”  My eyes teared up, and she wiped away the tears.   “Are you ok?  I love you more than anything.”   I was still scared, but I gave a meek nod. Michelle walked me to the corner and said, “I’m going to put you in time out.  I want you to think about what you did.  Look at the wall and do your poopy in the diaper.  Don’t move until I get you.  Then I will change your diaper, get you some yummy breakfast, and we can have some cuddle time.”

I know the nice words were meant to calm me, but I was still upset, confused, and scared.   Why did she hurt me?  Will this happen from now on?  If I stay, will I always be in fear of getting another spanking?   I think that was my first ever real spanking.   My dad would swat my bottom when I was a little kid, but it wasn’t hard, and it was just a few swats.  And my mom never spanked me at all.  I know spanking is erotic for a lot of people, but to me, it just felt mean.

Along with that, I couldn’t stop my bowels.  I started to poo in my diaper, and more came out with every breath.  Soon my diaper was filled with poo.

Fortunately, my butt stopped stinging before I went into a timeout.  However, now I was facing the wall in the corner with my poopy diaper showing to everyone.  I heard Jessica come into the room.   My instinct was to run and hide, but I was too scared to move.  I didn’t want another spanking.

I wonder what Jessica must have thought when she saw me in the corner with just the pacifier and a diaper.   I heard her ask, “Mom, is Uncle Mark in time-out?”

Michelle gave a nonchalant, “Yes, he is.  He got out of his crib without permission.”

Now, Jessica not only knew about my diapers, but she also knew about my baby tendencies.  Michelle was the first person I ever admitted this to.   I was upset that she told Jessica but realized that she would find out anyway. The diapers were almost impossible to hide, and the baby items would likely be spotted.

At least she wasn’t disgusted by any of it.  All she said was “I think he pooped.”

Michelle replied, “Do you smell it?  He tried to use the potty, but of course, I’m not going to let him do that.”   It felt weird hearing them talk like that, but I just kept my face in the corner.

Jessica said, “I saw his diaper expand, and I can smell it now.  That’s how Billy and Elly look when they have a full diaper.”  I knew that Elly was Michelle’s granddaughter, who just turned one, but I didn’t know who Billy was.  I supposed it was one of the kids that Jessica babysat.

Michelle then said, “I think he’s done, so I’m going to change his diaper.  The coffee is ready, but can you start cooking the pancakes?”

I heard, “Sure thing.”

Michelle walked up to me and asked, “Are you finished pooping?”  I still didn’t want to risk another spanking and only mumbled through the pacifier.   “Ok, let’s get you to the changing table.”

Michelle pointed at the changing table and said, “Hop up here little man.”  I hopped onto the table, and she guided my head to a pillow and undid the tabs of my diaper.  It smelled pretty bad but no worse than any other poo.  However, it was a lot of poo!  Michelle’s eyes grew big when she saw how much poop there was, and she said, “That’s a big poo.”

I tried to talk through the pacifier, “Dar-we.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I s-sh-inky.”

“Oh baby, don’t be sorry.  That’s what diapers are for.  It’s better to get all the poop out than keep it in your tummy.  Mommy is proud of you.”

Most of the poop was sprayed off with the shower fixture, and she used wipes and toilet paper for the rest.   After she was done, my butt was cleaner than it had ever been since I was a baby.

  She took out the diaper, powdered my butt, and brought the tabs over.  As she was finishing, I asked, “Why thid ju tell Jushica?”

Michelle asked, “Are you embarrassed?”

I nodded, “Uh-huh.”

Michelle gave a nice smile and said, “Oh sweety, this is nothing to be embarrassed about.  You like diapers, and this makes you happy.  Besides, she was going to know eventually.”

“But the vaby thufth?”

“That’s why she knew, she already saw that stuff.”

“Is she going to jange me?”

Michelle nodded, “I think so.  She asked if she could help take care of you.  She was too young to help with my dad when he was around, so I guess this is her chance.”  I didn’t like the idea of Jessica changing my diapers, but I didn’t say anything about it.

Michelle took the pacifier out of my mouth and said, “Sweetie, you are being such a good baby.  Now, I need to tell the ‘big’ Mark something.  Can you be a big boy, and listen to me?”

I tried to bring my adult mind back, but I couldn’t find him.  In my best big boy voice, I said, “Ok.”

“I can tell that you like being my baby, and I like being your mommy as well.  Let’s make this weekend a ‘baby weekend,’ and then tomorrow night you can decide if you want to become my baby or just my boyfriend.”

“Do I haf-” despite trying to be an adult, the little mind was still in charge.  I started over, “Do I have to be a full baby?”

“Full baby?”

“Do I have to use pacifiers and baby bottles?”

“Yes.  It will be just like you’re a real baby.  Just do what mommy tells you and everything will be fine.  I think you will like it.”  I think Michelle knew I was still in my ‘baby mind’ and spoke to me like I was just a baby.

My ‘adult mind’ might have chickened out, but I decided that I had nothing to lose.  I said, “Ok mommy.”

Michelle put the pacifier back in my mouth and said, “Wonderful, now let’s get you some yummy breakfast.”

We went to the kitchen, and she told me to sit on a barstool.  The barstool became a highchair when they clipped a tray on it.  Jessica cut the pancakes into small pieces and put them on the tray.  Michelle tied a bib around my neck, and then Jessica took a washcloth and said, “Show me your hands.”   I showed her my hands, and Jessica rubbed my hair.  “Good Boy!”  She cleaned my hands and then handed me a spork.  “Ok baby, eat your breakfast, but don’t make too much of a mess.”  Jessica was treating me like I was just any other three-year-old, so I figured that she wasn’t freaked out by the baby stuff. 

I’ve always been a messy eater, and even in the best of times, I wasn’t going to get through syrup and pancakes without making a mess.  But my ‘baby mind’ didn’t stand a chance.  I had syrup everywhere.  My face, my arms, my ears, and almost the entire bib.  Michelle cleaned me up and said, “I guess we need to feed you from now on.”  She filled my sippy cup with coffee and milk, which I drank while she and Jessica finished their breakfast.

Jessica looked at her mom and asked, “Coffee?  I thought babies didn’t drink coffee.”

“Well, he’s been a good boy, and I know that Uncle Mark likes his coffee.”

Michelle took me out of the highchair and said, “Let’s cuddle.”  We walked to the same couch where she spanked me earlier.  I laid on her chest, and Michelle put a baby bottle against my lips.  It was the same milk, banana, and cacao mixture that I had the night before.   I started to paw at her breasts after I finished the bottle, so Michelle gently pushed my hands away and whispered, “Not here baby, let’s go to the nursery for that.”

We got up and walked into the nursery.  Michelle sat on the loveseat, while I laid against her chest.  She wrapped her hands around my back and pulled me towards her chest.  I latched onto her boob and began to suck away.  I closed my eyes and pretended that I was breastfeeding.  I was in heaven and started to dream.  Michelle put me in my crib and whispered, “It’s nap time.  Go to sleep, and Mommy will be back before you know it.”

[Eagle0769]

Great chapter better then the rest bringing my dreams to life.

I knew Jessica would find out she had to know before bc she called

him Uncle Mark. I wonder why she is OK with all this did Michelle do

this to another man before?

Nursing Michelle right after a bottle is a sweet way of thinking you

really are nursing from her.

If Mark has a big Mark side and a baby side he enjoys will that

consummate there friendship as boyfriend and girlfriend status. I

remember reading they were never that close just friends.

I'm really enjoying your story best one in awhile waiting for the next

chapter. He is one lucky SOB. ?

[spark]

On 9/18/2022 at 6:40 AM, Eagle0769 said:

Great chapter better then the rest bringing my dreams to life.

That was always the point of this story.  It's easy to get the voice right for Mark (surprise- that's me).   Michelle has been harder to write, and her character is pivotal to the development of the other characters.   I want her to be loving, protective, and caring of Mark.  She is based on a person I know personally.  But I've stolen elements from Amy Cummings mommy characters.  Using mainstream media, which in this case is Big Bang Theory, imagine a character that combines Amy's brains and Penny's social skills, while Mark is supposed to be as smart as Sheldon, but as confident as Leonard.

 

On 9/18/2022 at 6:40 AM, Eagle0769 said:

I knew Jessica would find out she had to know before bc she called

him Uncle Mark. I wonder why she is OK with all this did Michelle do

this to another man before?

I'm about 3000 words ahead of what I've posted (it's a process.   It took about 3-hours to edit the chapter I just released), so I don't always remember what I've shared versus what I will share later.   Michelle was in a loveless marriage.   Jessica and Emily are full siblings and related to Michelle's ex.   Mike is their half-brother from a previous relationship.   Michelle's father has recently passed and had Alzheimer's, which included incontinence and child-like rebellion.   A key component of that is that Jessica wasn't old enough to support her mother in caring for her grandfather, while Emily was.  Mark represented something that Jessica missed on

On 9/18/2022 at 6:40 AM, Eagle0769 said:

Nursing Michelle right after a bottle is a sweet way of thinking you,re really are nursing from her

I'm not going to give anything way (but I am), but Google knows that I've recently searched how post-menopausal women can re-Lactaid.  Repeated stimulation of the breast and maternal feelings can stimulate the production of milk.

On 9/18/2022 at 6:40 AM, Eagle0769 said:

consummate there friendship as boyfriend and girlfriend status., remember reading they were never that close just friends.

One of the factors in this story is that Mark and Michelle have been 'work' spouses for a long time, but their intimate relationship is fairly new. .   If you think  about it: Jessica is 18 and just out of high school.   She didn't want to divorce her ex until Jessica was out of the house,   Mark wouldn't pursue anything until they were officially divorced.

Essentially, they've known each other for many years, but they were just good friends.   

And I do agree that he is one lucky SOB.   In most diaper fiction, the protagonist is humiliated while being mentally and physically abused

[Nia]

The story just keeps getting better. It's really good.

[spark]

13 hours ago, Nia said:

The story just keeps getting better. It's really good.

Thank You. 

It has felt good to write this.  It's extremely cathartic.  I have a plan for how this will end, but I need to get him ready to make that transition effective.

Based on words- I've published about half of what I've drafted.     My next release (almost certainly on Saturday) will finish the Saturday.   The Sunday was the one that my first attempt was crap, so I remastered and took him all the way to nap time on Sunday

However- my editing process has not been quick.   I read through the last update 5 times on Saturday before I was happy with the result.    Or- in my typically Saturday routine- I did that while watching the 9am college football window, and finished in the 2nd quarter of 12:30 window,  It's fall, and my weekends are broken up into football games.

 

[spark]

My Baby Weekend

I slept until Michelle woke me up.   I heard, “wakey, wakey.  It’s time to play.”   She let me out of the crib and took me into the living room.   There was a play mat surrounded by railings that were high enough that I couldn’t climb over.  The rubberized mat was hard enough that I could move cars and build Legos, but soft enough that I could get on my knees and crawl around.   I call it my playpen.

Michelle opened the gate, handed me a bottle, and said, “Play with your toys while mommy does some work.”

The bottle was filled with lemon tea mixed with some coconut water.  It was pretty good, and I kept sucking on it.  The tea mixture kept me hydrated and made me pee, while the cacao mixture made me poop.   At least I didn’t have to use a pacifier when I drank from my bottle.

There was a stuffed bear in the playpen, along with some plastic balls, some toy cars, and some Lincoln Logs. Jessica asked, “Do you want another toy?  I think we still have some Legos.”

I shook my head and said, “No thank you.”

She smiled, “Ok, I’ll be here if you need anything,” and then turned on the television.   I was finally able to see the time, which I hadn’t since my bath the night before.  It was eleven o’clock, which meant I had been in this baby mode for about 16 hours.

Despite having ‘little’ tendencies, I don’t usually play with toys.  Lincoln Logs were fun when I was younger, but I wasn’t entertained by them now.  I held the plushie, but that only lasted a short time.   The cars didn’t give me much entertainment either.  I might have played with a toy airplane, but there wasn’t one.  I just threw the balls around and watched TV with Jessica.

My diaper was soggy, and I was due for a change.    I also felt some gas in my stomach and knew I was going to poo again.   All that fiber was taking its toll.  I didn’t think Michelle would let me poo in the toilet, and I didn’t want to poo in front of Jessica.  When Jessica went into the kitchen, I got up to my knees and pooped.

Typically, a messy diaper would put me into ‘little’ mode, but this time it snapped me out of it.  It was my second poopy diaper of the morning, and I felt naughty and helpless.  I called out, “MICHELLE! I pooped.”

Michelle shouted back, “Babies don’t use first names.  I’m Mommy.”

I thought, ‘Ok, I’ll go along with this.’  I cried out, “Mommy, I pooped my diaper.”

Michelle just put a pacifier in my mouth and walked away.   I didn’t want to get in trouble, but I was uncomfortable.  I took the pacifier out of my mouth and pleaded, “Please!  Change my diaper.”  It was more of a petulant demand than a request.

Michelle reprimanded me with a sharp tone, “Put that binky back in your mouth.  I’m not checking your diaper until you stop pouting.”

With no other choice, I just sat there and stewed in my own stink.   Finally, Michelle decided that I wasn’t pouting anymore.  She used a cheery tone and said, “let’s see if you have something for mommy in your diaper.”  She pulled the diaper back and said “It looks like you did another poopy.  You’re such a good boy.  Let’s get you into a clean diaper.”

Michelle praised me while she changed my diaper.  “It’s a good thing you don’t hold your poo.  That’s bad.  I’m proud of you for using your diaper as you should.”  To be honest, I was worried that I would hold my bowels as well, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

Her praise made me smile, but Michelle continued, “But you were naughty as well.  You pouted about your diapers.  You are not allowed to ask Mommy to change your diaper.  Mommy will change your diaper when I think it needs to be changed.”  I nodded, and she continued, “I will just wait longer if you pout and beg me to change your diaper.” That made me sad, and I looked like I was about to cry.  Michelle hugged me, “I forgot, you don’t like it when I criticize you.  You’ve always wanted to make me proud.  You’re still my special boy.”

She brought me into the kitchen and put a bowl of soup on my tray.  Jessica asked, “Mom, can I feed Uncle Mark?”

I didn’t like Jessica babying me.  I pouted, “I want to do it myself.”

Michelle answered, “No!  I don’t want another mess.”

I begged Michelle, “then, can you feed me?”

“No more pouting!  Aunty Jessica will feed you, and I expect you to be good for her.”

Jessica sat in front of the highchair, put the spoon in the soup, and said, “Open up.”

I had to let Jessica feed me like a baby.  I didn’t like it, but I knew protesting would just make it worse.   After lunch, Michelle gave me another bottle of the cacao mixture.  I sucked it down while lying on her lap, which I loved.  After I finished, Michelle said, “It’s time to go to the park.”

I was still wearing the onesie from the night before, and I was afraid that she would parade me through the neighborhood dressed like a baby.  I asked, “Am I going out like this?”

Michelle answered, “No.  Let’s get you dressed first.”

If I were a girl baby, I could have worn something really childish, but boys’ clothes are less obvious.   Michelle might have made me wear a shirt with a childish theme, but we didn’t have any clothes like that.  Instead, she dressed me in my gym shorts with a plain t-shirt.  Except for my diapers, which nobody could see, there was nothing about my outfit that made me look like a baby.

While we walked, Michelle held my hand tight, and I couldn’t pull away; not that I wanted to.   She asked, “Are you having fun?”

I answered, “I like some of it.  I like the bottles and the cuddles, but I was bored sitting in the playpen.”

Michelle laughed, “Sweetie, it’s supposed to be boring.  That’s the point.”

“Do I have to use the highchair?”

“You don’t like the highchair?”

I shook my head, “I’m not a baby.  I think of myself as more of a four-year-old.”

“Well, this is a baby weekend, and babies use highchairs.”

We saw a mother pushing a stroller.  I waited until they were out of earshot to say, “I’m glad you don’t have a stroller because you might have made me use it.”

Michelle remarked, “I have a stroller that I used with my dad after he walked away from us and got lost.”

My ears perked, and I asked, “Is it like a wheelchair?”

“No, it’s more of a pushchair that seniors use at a hospital, but it would work as a stroller.”   Michelle saw my eyes grow big and asked, “Is that a trigger?”

I blushed, “Kind of.”

Michelle grinned, “That’s good to know, I’ll use that in the future.  You still need to exercise, so we won’t use the stroller on our walks.”

I was back in baby mode when we got home.  She took me to the nursery and said, “It’s time for your nap.  I’ll give you numnums before you fall asleep.”

“Mommy, what’s numnums?”

“It’s when mommy lets you suck on her boobs.”   She gently rocked my body as I sucked on her nipples, which made me sleepy.  I think she was conditioning me to become more of a baby.

After a while, Jessica took me out of the crib and put me in the playpen.   Emily, Jessica’s older sister, was visiting and saw everything: the diapers, playpen, and the highchair.   I whispered to Jessica, “She sees me,” and tried to hide from Emily.

Jessica replied, “And?  She already knows and she thinks you’re cute.”

I asked, “Where is your mom?”

Jessica chided, “You mean, mommy?”  I guess it was all part of my conditioning.

I nodded, but Jessica waited for me to ask correctly.  I asked, “Where is mommy?”

“She is fixing dinner.”  Jessica pushed me gently toward Emily and said, “Aren’t you going to say hi to aunty Emily.”

I meekly waved my hand, but they wouldn’t accept that.   Emily reprimanded me, “Is that how you say hello?”

“I’m sorry, hello.”

“Now use my name.  Remember, I’m aunty Emily.”

In their family, kids always used ‘aunty’ and ‘uncle’ for adult friends.   They both called me Uncle Mark when they first met me, and I guess it still sounded right even though they were treating me like a baby.  And since I was now a baby, I was expected to use Aunty as well.  I gave in and said, “Hi, Aunty Emily.”

Jessica and Emily both grinned, “That’s better.”

Emily asked, “Did you have a good nap?”

There was this small part of me that wanted to say, “Yeah, I love sucking your mom’s tits.” But I’m not that crude.   I think I was more embarrassed than mad.  The girls weren’t being mean; they were just helping me live out my fantasy.

I sat down in the playpen and pretended to play.  Jessica eventually said, “I need to check your diaper.”  She put her hand on the diaper, which I already knew was wet.  However, I didn’t think it needed to be changed right away.  She remarked, “That’s pretty wet, so I better change you.”  I started to walk to the nursery, but Jessica stopped me, “Where are you going?”

“To my room.”

“It’s just a soggy diaper, so we can change it right here.”

I pointed at Emily and whined, “But she’ll see me naked.”

Emily laughed, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen.   You shouldn’t be embarrassed.  My mom told me that you want this.”

Jessica countered, “You’ve been smiling all day, so I think you like it.”  Jessica was probably right.   Even though I was protesting, this was everything that I dreamed about.   I even dreamed that multiple women would join up to take care of me.

Jessica pointed to the changing pad and said, “Baby, Lie on this.” 

I just closed my eyes and let Jessica change my diaper.   I was afraid they would make fun of me or be disgusted by the diapers.  But they didn’t make fun of me, and Jessica didn’t seem disgusted.  They just kept talking to each other while Jessica changed the diaper.

Emily asked, “does he poop in his diaper?”

Jessica answered, “Yeah, two times this morning, Uncle Mark hasn’t used the potty all day.”

Emily retorted, “Grandpa normally just wet his diapers, but he pooped in them sometimes.”

Jessica stated, “Mommy just put Uncle Mark in diapers last night, so this is the first time I’ve changed him.”

I saw Michelle walk into the living room.   I sulked, “Jessica changed my diaper, right in front of Emily.”  I sounded like a pouty child.

Michelle glared and said, “What did I tell you about using first names?  They are Aunty Jessica and Aunty Emily, not Jessica and Emily.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now, go thank Aunty Jessica for changing your diaper.”

I pouted, “But she changed me on the floor.”

“What’s the matter with that?”

“It was embarrassing.”

Michelle countered, “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.  This is what you want.    You like wearing diapers, and that’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  Can you please thank Aunty Jessica for changing your diaper?”

I turned to Jessica and said, “Thank you, Aunty Jessica.”

Jessica smiled, “You’re welcome sweetie.  You’re such a cutie, I love taking care of you.”

We had chili for dinner which Michelle spoon-fed me.  At least it wasn’t baby food.  I had to accept that I would be treated like a baby even in front of Michelle’s family, so I just allowed myself to relax.  The worst part of it was sitting in the highchair waiting for everybody else to finish dinner.

After dinner, we watched a movie.   Jessica patted her lap and asked, “Do you want to sit on my lap?”

I wasn’t sure what Michelle wanted me to do, and she didn’t seem to give me any idea when I looked at her.  Emily saw my hesitation and asked, “How about me?”  It looked like Emily did it just to play along and didn’t really want me to sit with her.

Michelle smiled and said, “I think he wants his mommy.”

In reality, I’m too big to sit on Michelle’s lap.   Instead, I sit in front of her and then lay on her chest.

The movie wasn’t very long, so it was still light outside when Michelle started my bedtime routine.  I wanted her to wait until it was dark, which in June was closer to nine o’clock.  She bathed me, gave me a bottle, and then let me suck on her breast while she gently rocked me to sleep.

[Eagle0769]

This story is totally from my dreams. Three ladies to treat me like a baby.

I hope he is really enjoying himself. I knew Aunt Jessica would change his

diaper sooner or later. It must have felt wonderful to have Aunt Emily watch her

younger sister do a grown up thing.

How much older is Emily to Jessica?

This is nice also bc no one makes fun of what he has under his diaper. You can

tell when the mean care giver makes fun of his pee pee and where it might go

wrong.

I'm enjoying this story but wonder if he will get to be a big boy and make love

to his mommy. ?

 

[spark]

1 hour ago, Eagle0769 said:

This story is totally from my dreams. Three ladies to treat me like a baby.

I hope he is really enjoying himself. I knew Aunt Jessica would change his

diaper sooner or later. It must have felt wonderful to have Aunt Emily watch her

younger sister do a grown up thing.

How much older is Emily to Jessica?

This is nice also bc no one makes fun of what he has under his diaper. You can

tell when the mean care giver makes fun of his pee pee and where it might go

wrong.

I'm enjoying this story but wonder if he will get to be a big boy and make love

to his mommy. ?

 

Mike is 25, Emily is 23 and Jessica is 18.  There is a five-year gap between Emily and Mike, which implies that Michelle choose to have another baby after her first two were no longer babies.

One of the themes that I'm developing is that there is no reason to be embarrassed about liking diapers and wanting the care and attention of a baby.  Michelle is consistently pushing the needle with Mark, but she is doing it as a way to support Mark's acceptance of his baby persona.   There are a lot of diaper stories that have the theme of blackmail to create a power dynamic between the characters, and the caregiver is antagonistic towards the baby character.   I've written Mark as a very insecure person, even outside of the diapers.  For his entire life, he has worn this mask to protect his fragile ego and Michelle has finally allowed him to pull down that mask.  However, that means she can literally destroy him if she belittles him.

Already there is clearly mutual benefit because Michelle wants that maternal.    Based on what I've published so far, she had raised three kids, and once those were older, her father developed dementia and she took care of him.  When this started, Michelle's children were all adults, she's recently divorced from Jessica's dad, and her father passed away.  She needs Mark just as much as he needs her.

There will be more female caregivers written into the story, but they will be more like babysitters, or other aunties.  In the parts that I've drafted, and in my outline, the bulk of the care will come from Michelle, and Jessica will step in when Michelle is busy.

I don't think I'm very good at creating a sex scene, especially within the mommy/little boy dynamic.   I've stolen a term from Big Bang Theory to describe how Michelle deals with her sexual needs.  She has been responsible for her orgasms for a long time and knows the path to get there, but the arousal comes from her interactions with Mark.  

 

[Eagle0769]

30 minutes ago, spark said:

Mike is 25, Emily is 23 and Jessica is 18.  There is a five-year gap between Emily and Mike, which implies that Michelle choose to have another baby after her first two were no longer babies.

One of the themes that I'm developing is that there is no reason to be embarrassed about liking diapers and wanting the care and attention of a baby.  Michelle is consistently pushing the needle with Mark, but she is doing it as a way to support Mark's acceptance of his baby persona.   There are a lot of diaper stories that have the theme of blackmail to create a power dynamic between the characters, and the caregiver is antagonistic towards the baby character.   I've written Mark as a very insecure person, even outside of the diapers.  For his entire life, he has worn this mask to protect his fragile ego and Michelle has finally allowed him to pull down that mask.  However, that means she can literally destroy him if she belittles him.

Already there is clearly mutual benefit because Michelle wants that maternal.    Based on what I've published so far, she had raised three kids, and once those were older, her father developed dementia and she took care of him.  When this started, Michelle's children were all adults, she's recently divorced from Jessica's dad, and her father passed away.  She needs Mark just as much as he needs her.

There will be more female caregivers written into the story, but they will be more like babysitters, or other aunties.  In the parts that I've drafted, and in my outline, the bulk of the care will come from Michelle, and Jessica will step in when Michelle is busy.

I don't think I'm very good at creating a sex scene, especially within the mommy/little boy dynamic.   I've stolen a term from Big Bang Theory to describe how Michelle deals with her sexual needs.  She has been responsible for her orgasms for a long time and knows the path to get there, but the arousal comes from her interactions with Mark.  

 

That was an excellent explanation of what I was asking. She needs Mark to be her baby and Mark is to a point that he loves it but he is still embarrassed. I would be in Heaven if this was him. Babysitters Aunt Jessica's age or Aunt Emily's? Sexual needs with Mark I hope. 

[spark]

On 9/25/2022 at 8:07 PM, Eagle0769 said:

That was an excellent explanation of what I was asking. She needs Mark to be her baby and Mark is to a point that he loves it but he is still embarrassed. I would be in Heaven if this was him. Babysitters Aunt Jessica's age or Aunt Emily's? Sexual needs with Mark I hope. 

Thank you,   FTR- that is literally how I plan the outline for this story.   So much of this story has been created while I lie in bed imagining this dynamic, and since I've been mulling this over in my head for the last four years, you can imagine how many times I've revised and planned this story.   Almost all of those thoughts have occurred while lying in my bed as I try to sleep. 

In words, I've published about half the words that I've written, but it's really just two updates.  BTW- the next update will likely come on Saturday because I haven't begun the editing process, and it took me almost six hours to edit the chapter yesterday.  The rough drafting is significantly more efficient, so I can do some of that in the week.

As a personal favor, please do not let me lose my muse.   I've gotten this far, and I know where I want it to end.  Right now, I've drafted Mark through the rest of his weekend, and he eventually decides whether he wants to become Michelle's baby boy or just her boyfriend.  I could end it there, and it would be an unsatisfying, but not a terrible ending.   However, I'm currently drafting the wraparound of this story, in which I further explore the unique relationship between Mark and Jessica, as well as Mark trying to retain his adult-level independence, while being physically dependent on other people.  Personally, I think that the crux of this whole story, so I want to get to right.

As far as the sex needs for Jessica or Emily.  I think I've maxed out Emily's potential as a character.  I can allude to her, but she isn't comfortable with the baby dynamic between her mom and Mark.  However, I intend to explore Jessica's character further.  There is a 40-year age gap, and I find any sexual arousal between the two creepy.   However, Jessica witnessed her grandfather's dementia and was too young to help with her grandfather.   She is now old enough that she can help with Uncle Mark and sees him almost like a small child.

 

[spark]

Sunday

Michelle kissed my forehead, “Good night.  Remember, stay in your crib until I wake you up, ok?”

“Ok, I don’t want another spanking.”

“That’s good, baby.”

She left me alone in the nursery, and I started to think about everything that happened that day: the good, the bad, and the scary.  Michelle shared more than I ever wanted with her daughters.   I wondered if Mike or his wife knew.  There was part of me that felt violated.   I trusted her with a big secret, and two of her adult children already knew.

On the other hand, Michelle kept telling me that I shouldn’t feel ashamed.  I feel comfortable and secure when I’m regressed.  I always feared that somebody would find out, and I knew that fear would continue if we kept this a secret.  I didn’t have to worry about that anymore because they already knew.   Emily and Jessica didn’t care about my diapers and even seemed to like treating me like a baby.

However, the spanking scared me.  There are a lot of books about FLR and littles, and most of them recommend that the big should spank their little frequently, some of them even suggest ‘maintenance spankings’ just to make sure the little know who was in charge.  Michelle seemed to have read the same books, and I didn’t want any of that.  I didn’t want a mommy who would spank me.  It was traumatic, and I didn’t think I could ever get used to it.

Michelle told me that I could be an adult again after the weekend, but I knew it would never be the same.  Jessica and Emily would never see me as a man.  Jessica changed my diaper and spoon-fed my lunch to me.  Emily saw me in a playpen and sitting in a highchair.   Even if they pretended that this never happened, I would always be tempted to do this again.   The only way I could return to my ‘normal’ life was to leave, but where could I go?   I moved to Michelle’s home because I couldn’t drive and couldn’t live by myself anymore.

I was resigned that I would never be a full adult again, but I didn’t want to be a baby all the time.  Most of it was great.  I didn’t think the crib would be so nice, but it was wonderful.   The numnums were incredible.  I loved sitting with my head pressed against Michelle’s nipples and pretending to breastfeed.   And while the diaper changes were embarrassing, there was something delightful about it.   I felt vulnerable; I gave Michelle complete power over my life, and she was never going to hurt me.  It felt the same way when Jessica changed my diaper.

I just didn’t want to be a baby all of the time.  I didn’t want to sit in a highchair every meal, and I didn’t want to be confined to a playpen.   Babies grow up and become adults, but I would be like this for the rest of my life.  I wanted some adult pleasures, which I would lose if I was a permanent baby.

I couldn’t do anything about it now.  I was stuck in the crib, and there was no way I was leaving until Michelle came to wake me up.   I sucked on my pacifier, held my teddy bear close, leaned into the railing, and fell asleep.

This time I slept all night.   I woke up once and could see light peeking through the blinds.  I fell back to sleep, and the next thing I remember was Michelle coming into the nursery.

“Are you awake?”

“Uh-huh.”   I was still a little groggy, but managed to say, “Good morning mommy,” Or at least something that sounded like that through my pacifier.

“Good morning sunshine, are you ready for your big day?”

“Whatsh going to haven?”

Michelle looked confused and said, “Honey, it is hard for mommy to understand you when you have your binky in your mouth.  Take your binky out when you talk to mommy.”

I took the pacifier out and asked again.   “What’s going to happen?”

Michelle used a sing-song voice and said, “Well, we’re going on a picnic.”

My eyes grew big, and I asked, “Will I be a baby?”

“Of course, this is your baby weekend.”

“But somebody will see me.”

“So-what. why is that a problem?   I keep telling you that you have nothing to be ashamed of.”   She sensed I was still scared, so in a soothing voice, she said, “Don’t worry, it won’t be obvious.  It’s at a secluded lake, and I won’t embarrass you.”

“Who will be there?”

“There will be me, you, Michael, Angela, and Elly.  I think Jessica might come as well, but she wasn’t sure.   Don’t worry about it.”   I decided not to push my luck much further and stopped before Michelle got mad.

Michelle put her hand on my diaper and said, “Your diaper is pretty wet, but I’ll wait until you poop before I’ll change you.  It’s time for some yummy breakfast.”

I was put into my highchair, then Jessica put a plate on the tray.   It was scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.  The bacon was cut into small pieces that I could hold with my hand, and the toast was cut into strips.   Jessica asked, “Do you want Aunty to feed you, or do you want to be a big boy?”

I beamed, “Big boy.”

She held my spork out and said, “Ok, but that means you eat like a big kid and don’t make a mess.”

This time I did pretty well but the grease from the bacon got on my face, and it was still a mess.   Jessica wiped my face and mocked, “Messy, messy.”

I replied, “Sorry.”

Jessica said, “It’s not your fault, you’re just a messy eater.”

Michelle laughed, “That was true before all of this.”

I drank coffee from my sippy cup, and the pressure in my bowels got pretty strong.   I shifted in my seat and relieved some of the pressure.   I didn’t want to poop in front of Michelle and Jessica, especially while they were eating.   I don’t even think I could poo while sitting in the highchair.

Michelle saw me grunting and asked, “Oh boy.  Do you need to do a poopy?”

I meekly nodded and mouthed, “Uh huh.”

Michelle replied, “Just go ahead.  That’s why you have a diaper.”

I cried, “I can’t.  It’s too hard.”

Michelle seemed confused, and Jessica jumped in and asked, “Do you want out of your highchair?”  I nodded.  I was let out of the highchair, and Jessica pointed to the playpen.   “You can poop over there.”  I started pooping as soon as I stood up.

Michelle asked, “How did you know that Uncle Mark couldn’t poop in the highchair?”

Jessica replied, “I’ve babysat enough kids to know when somebody needs to poo.  Emmy usually waits until I put her down, but Billy will cry until I let him go in the corner.”

Michelle asked Jessica after I finished, “Do you want to change him, or clean the dishes?”

“I’ll clean the dishes; he’s your boyfriend.  Poopy diapers are your job.”

Michelle smirked, “Just so you know, I’m letting you live here rent-free because you promised to help with Uncle Mark, and that includes poopy diapers.”

We followed the same routine as Saturday morning, except that I didn’t get my numnums. I started to go for Michelle’s breast, but she whispered, “Not now.”

I was still getting used to being a baby around Jessica, but the scene at the table helped.  I didn’t know if I could be a baby around Mike and Angela.  I hadn’t met Mike’s wife and I wondered if she would be as accepting as Jessica.   Or even worse, what if they wanted to change my diaper?   I didn’t want strangers changing my diaper, but I thought Michelle would get mad if I whined about it.   I told Michelle, “I don’t want Mike to change my diaper?”

“You don’t?  Why is that?”

“I only want girls.”

“Interesting, I guess you have some daddy issues, don’t you?”  I blushed, and she continued.  “You’re definitely a little boy, and little boys like mommy best.”  I smiled, and then Michelle said, “I wouldn’t worry about that.   Michael doesn’t change Elly’s diaper, so I don’t think he’s willing to change yours.”

Even now, Michelle is always Mommy.  Jessica, Emily, and Angela are always ‘aunty,’ as are almost every female I see regularly.  However, Michael is always Mike, and it is the same with any other man that I know.

My access to clocks, or anything else that let me know the time was limited.  Michelle had my phone, and I couldn’t see any clocks from the playpen.   If I looked at the microwave while moving from my highchair to my playpen, I could catch a glimpse of the clock.   One time I saw the time when I watched television, but I no longer had any reference to the time of day.  Things just happened when they did.   I just know that I was sitting in the playpen when Mike and Angela arrived.

Angela was just like Michelle, only taller and younger.   Mike essentially married his mother, and since I was in love with his mother, I felt comfortable around Angela.  She has the same facial features and demeanor as Michelle.   She is sweet, protective, and very comforting, but she can be stern if she needs to be.  She saw me sitting in the playpen with the pacifier and said, “Oh you must be Mark, aren’t you a cutie?  Are you excited for your big day?”

Michelle interjected, “I think he’s a little nervous.”

“Why? It’s just diapers.”

Michelle laughed and said, “I think he’s afraid that Michael might change his diaper.”

Angela quickly retorted, “Mike won’t change his daughter’s dirty diapers, I don’t think he is going to change Mark’s.”

I was worried about Mike, but he mostly ignored me.  He loaded up Michelle’s Suburban for our picnic.  We got into the Suburban, with Mike sitting next to Michelle in the passenger seat.  I sat behind Michelle, next to Jessica.  Elly was in her car seat behind me, while Angela sat next to Elly.  While I didn’t have a car seat, my seat was specially adapted. It looked like I had a seat pad, but there was a belt that came over both shoulders and my lap, which made it feel like a car seat.

I don’t know why, but I started getting a little bratty while strapped into the car seat.  I think it was just nervous energy because I couldn’t stop asking questions.

“Where are we going?”

“We are going to a lake.”

“Where is it?”

“It is up the road about 70 miles?”

“How long until we get there?”

Finally, Michelle had enough and said, “We aren’t doing this the whole trip.”  She looked at Jessica and said, “there is an I-pad in the diaper bag.”

Jessica put my pacifier in my mouth, reached into the diaper bag, handed me the I-pad, and said, “Play with this.  We will be there soon.”

That shut me up.  There wasn’t much to do on the I-pad, but at least it had a clock and a map.  Even when I was a kid, I always wanted to know where we were, and what time it was.   However, Michelle didn’t want me to know those things.   Every time I asked, she told me, “Babies don’t care about the time.”

I still had my pacifier in my mouth when we got to the park, and I almost left the car with it still in my mouth.  Fortunately, Jessica acted before I could embarrass myself.  She calmly said, “Let me take that from you.”   She put it in my diaper bag, and said, “We will keep it here.”

I nodded and mouthed “Thank you.”  Mike took what I guessed was the stroller that Michelle talked about on our walk, out of the Suburban.  It wasn’t exactly like a stroller.  It was more like those pushchairs you see at hospitals and airports.  I asked, “What’s that?”

Michelle said, “it’s the stroller.”

 “Where did you get that?”  I asked in a demanding tone.

“My dad used to get lost, so we bought it for him.  Now it’s yours.”

Suddenly I was flooded with a mix of emotions and fears.  Riding in a stroller, especially being forced to ride in one, was a fantasy of mine for more than thirty years.  Heck, I probably have dreamed about it since I last rode in a stroller, when I was four.  At the same time, it felt too obvious.  My immediate thought was ‘I don’t want to do that.’  I panicked and cried “Do I have to use that?”

“Do you want to use a harness?”  Michelle’s stern voice was a strong warning of what could happen if I pushed further.

I don’t think she would have used a harness on me, but I didn’t want to risk it.  I shook my head and said, “No, but I promise to stay close to you.”

Michelle at least appeared to give that some thought, but then said, “I don’t think so honey, besides, we have to walk down a hill to get to the lake, and I don’t know if your knees are ready for that.”   I reluctantly sat in the stroller and let Michelle strap me in.  Michelle saw my pouty face and smirked, “Don’t be such a sourpuss.  This will be fun, and nobody is going to care about the stroller.”

I complained, “Do you have to call it a stroller?”

“I do if it’s for a baby.”

The stroller wasn’t a problem.  There weren’t very many hikers, and nobody seemed to notice that I was pretending to be a baby.  The walk was too long and steep for me anyway.  I’m sure everybody who saw us just thought I was some old guy who couldn’t walk that far.

Fortunately, our picnic site was secluded.  There were no other parties that could see us, and nobody would see us from the trail.  Michelle put some juice in a bottle for me but let me hold it myself.  It was a small concession that I appreciated.  My sandwich was cut into smaller pieces, but I got to feed myself.   And I didn’t make a mess.  My bib was mostly clean when I finished.

I felt proud of myself when Michelle said, “Good job.  You didn’t make a mess and put all of the food in your mouth.”

We swam in the lake after lunch, so Michelle removed my diaper and put me in a swimsuit.  I asked, “Do I have to wear a swim diaper?”

Michelle shook her head.  “No baby.  That’s just for poo.   It’s ok if you pee in the lake.” 

Michelle, Jessica, and Mike all swam across the lake while I waded on the shore next to Angela and Elly.   Before they left, Michelle shouted back, “Be a good boy for Aunty Angela.”

I didn’t know what to say to Angela.  It was the first time I met her and in the few hours that I had been around her, I had already used a car seat and stroller, drank from a baby bottle, and had my diaper changed by her mother-in-law.  I wouldn’t blame her for being creeped out by the old guy in diapers, especially while she was holding her baby.

I also didn’t know what she thought about any of this.   Jessica seemed to accept her role as aunty from the very beginning.  Emily was more standoffish but did her version of aunty as well.  I just didn’t have a feel for Angela.  Most of her attention was on Elly, which made sense.  I just waded and enjoyed the cool water.  Finally, Angela spoke up.  “You know, Michelle loves you.”

If you think about it, that’s a strong statement coming from a daughter-in-law.  Especially considering the complicated nature of my relationship with Michelle.  We were just two good friends who eventually became more than just friends.   I didn’t know how to respond, which makes me stammer, and that makes me nervous, so I start biting my lip and chewing on my cheek, along with a whole lot of other nervous ticks.

The pause wasn’t much longer than two or three seconds, but it felt longer.  I kept thinking to myself, breathe, breathe.  I managed to say, “How do you know?”

“I think it’s beautiful that both of you are doing this for each other?”   It was more than just her words because her tone and demeanor immediately put me at ease.

“Are you talking about the baby stuff and diapers?”

“Yes, of course.  I can tell she loves it, and I know you do as well.”  She waited for me to respond, but when I didn’t, she asked, “So tell me, how was the ride in the stroller?”

“It was all right.”

“I bet you’ve dreamed about that a lot, haven’t you.”  I smiled, which told her so much, and she asked, “How do you like your crib?’

I couldn’t stop myself and said, “it’s really nice.”  Then I realized Angela hadn’t seen my crib yet.  “Wait, how do you know about that?”

Angela calmly replied, “Michelle told me about it.”

“When?  I’ve only been in the crib for two nights.”

Angela confidently replied, “Let me tell you something, and why I know that she loves you.  Do you remember what happened when you told her about your diapers?”  It felt like a long time ago, but it had only been a month.   I nodded, and she continued.  “You might have thought she didn’t like it, but she called me that night and asked me about adult babies.”

“She did?  What did she ask?  Why you?”

“I’m a psychologist and she wondered if I knew anything about adult babies.  I told her that it was just some sexual fetish, but she said it seemed different for you.”

“I’ve wondered about that myself.  I don’t think it is.”

Angela commented, “I don’t think it is for you either.  After she asked me, I read some more about it and discovered that it was more complicated.  You’ve probably felt this way your whole life, haven’t you?”

I flatly said, “I wanted to wear diapers when I was six.”

“Really, I read that it usually starts earlier, like four years old.”

“I was still in diapers when I was four.   At least from what I remember.”

“I can see on your face that you love it and I’ve never seen Michelle this happy.”

That made me feel good, and she was right.  I was loving all of this, and my mind was a buzz.   I never believed this could ever happen, and now it seemed possible it would be permanent.  I used the moment to get some advice, “Tonight she is going to ask if I want to become her baby or her boyfriend.”

A good psychologist doesn’t just give you advice, and Angela was no different.  Instead, she forced me to reveal my thoughts.  “So, what are you going to say?’

“I don’t know.  It’s hard.   I don’t want to be just a baby.”  I pointed to Elly and said, “She will grow up, but I won’t.”

Angela agreed.  “That makes sense, it’s a lot to give up.  But would you be happy going back to your old life knowing what you do now?”

I hadn’t thought about that.  I knew that the rest would never see me as a full adult, but I never thought about what it would mean to me.  I don’t think I could go back to wearing diapers in secret, having been through this.  I knew that giving up diapers wasn’t an option.   “I don’t think I could.  Do you think she could give me some adult privileges?”

“Like what?”

I thought about it.  “I don’t know, I guess pooping on the toilet is out.  But I want to have a bedtime that is after sunset.  I want to have a beer, and maybe some wine.  I’ve never liked baby toys, and I want to watch some sports.  Next weekend is the US Open, and I never miss that.”

Angela said, “I get that.  All you can do is ask her.  And don’t worry, I’ll be proud to be your aunty.   Maybe you can come to my house and be an adult with Mike from time to time.”

“And the diapers?”

“I can change those.  Elly has poopy diapers as well, so it’s just one more.”

Jessica, Mike, and Michelle came back from the other side of the lake and began to pack up.  I wasn’t surprised when Jessica volunteered to change my diaper.  She said, “Mom, do you want me to change Uncle Mark?”  Michelle waved, which seemingly gave permission. Jessica eagerly brought me to the changing mat and put me in a fresh diaper.  I must not have been as nervous.  Jessica remarked, “You’re not squirming as much as yesterday.”

I even willingly sat in the stroller, which was much nicer than trying to walk up that damn hill.  We started to drive home after I was strapped into my car seat.  I felt pressure in my bowels and Jessica said, “I know that face, can you wait until we get home?”

[Eagle0769]

I love your story I really do I've said that a number of times before. I'm at a point were I'm suspicious of what is really going on. Michelle's daughter in law is telling him she Michelle loves him. I have not seen any love to him personally. Michelle has her whole family taking care of him as a baby nephew. An 18 year old is changing his dirty diapers. I'm sorry but I have read many stories were the mommy gives the "baby" a spanking and he doesn't know how she can love him when it hurts.

The youngest 18 Jessica, Emily, now Mike and Angela are treating him as a baby. And a harness if he doesn't use the stroller or maybe get a spanking in public. I don't believe Michelle loves him as much as she loves treating him like an AB. 

Just my point of view if I upset you I'm sorry. If she really loves him as a person let her kiss him with passion nothing more that would show me that she loves both half of me.

[spark]

5 hours ago, Eagle0769 said:

I love your story I really do I've said that a number of times before. I'm at a point were I'm suspicious of what is really going on. Michelle's daughter in law is telling him she Michelle loves him. I have not seen any love to him personally. Michelle has her whole family taking care of him as a baby nephew. An 18 year old is changing his dirty diapers. I'm sorry but I have read many stories were the mommy gives the "baby" a spanking and he doesn't know how she can love him when it hurts.

The youngest 18 Jessica, Emily, now Mike and Angela are treating him as a baby. And a harness if he doesn't use the stroller or maybe get a spanking in public. I don't believe Michelle loves him as much as she loves treating him like an AB. 

Just my point of view if I upset you I'm sorry. If she really loves him as a person let her kiss him with passion nothing more that would show me that she loves both half of me.

I love getting your post

So far in what I've published, Mark has had 3 poopy diapers, and Michelle has changed all of them, plus all but two of the wet diapers.   Jessica has only changed 2 diaper.  The one while Mark was around Emily, and at the lake.  Michelle has had a bulk of the care, like bedtimes and cuddling.

I think a lot of the love has been implied by the actions that Michelle.  Remember, she let Mark move into her home because he couldn't live by himself, and it was only after when he admitted his desires that she pursued it.   Most of my text has been on the weekend, starting on Friday Night, and Michelle is giving him a fully immersive baby weekend, which includes time with family.

The next chapter is called the decision, and that's where Mark makes his decision on whether he becomes Michelle's baby boy or just her boyfriend.   You have to read to find out what he decides, but what follows is three days where Mark and Michelle are together almost the entire time

[theaspiringnothing5]

I really love this story. Its definitely in my top 3 favorite stories on DD. I hope there's more!

[spark]

7 hours ago, theaspiringnothing5 said:

I really love this story. Its definitely in my top 3 favorite stories on DD. I hope there's more!

I apologize that I didn't update it last weekend.   I was gone, and didn't get to edit the next chapter.   The good news is that I've drafted up to the penultimate episode, and will finish the edit of the next chapter on Saturday.

The bad news is that I won't be able to do another update, so it will once again be two weeks between updates

[spark]

The Decision

I was a little jealous of Emmy when I noticed she fell asleep before we started to move.   Unfortunately, my shoulders were strapped against the seat.  I couldn’t roll to my side, and I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was not pooping in my diaper.

When we got home, Angela took Emmy in to change her, Michelle and Mike unloaded the car, and Jessica took me to the nursery for my nap.   I’m too big to carry, instead, she held my hand as we walked.  On our way to the nursery she asked, “Do you still need to poo?”

I shook my head, “Not anymore.”   That was wrong; I still needed to poo.   I didn’t want to get constipated, but I didn’t want Jessica changing my poopy diaper.  I think Jessica was thinking the same thing, because we rushed to the nursery, and she quickly put me in my crib.

This was the first time she saw my nursery.   She noticed the crib and changing table, and said, “Wow!  I can’t believe my mom did all of this.”  I climbed into the crib, and she pulled the covers up, rubbed my hair, pulled up the rails, and said, “it is time to sleep.”

I sensed this was different from Saturday morning.  When she fed me, it was all about power.  She had authority over me, and that was a thrill.   Now it was different.  She was protecting me just like her mom and sister did with her grandfather when he had dementia.

I couldn’t poop while lying on my back, so I got up on my knees and pushed from my stomach.  It wasn’t hard to fill my diaper.   I was well hydrated from all the baby bottles of lemon tea, and I had a bottle of the cacao smoothie with every meal.  What came out was a soft formless mass that easily spread throughout the diaper.  Fortunately, I still had some control over my poo.  I could hold off until I wanted to poop, even if it was in a diaper.  I didn’t have much control of my bladder anymore.  Once Michelle took control of my diapers, I quickly lost all awareness of my bladder.

Pooping in my crib was better than pooping in front of the family.  I could do it in private without anybody watching.  Unfortunately, I have no concept of time when I am in my nursery.  I can’t leave the crib until somebody takes me out, and I never know how much longer I have to wait.   In this case, I pooped just after Jessica left the room.  Eventually, I cried out, “MOMMY!”

I heard Jessica’s voice from a speaker, “Mommy is busy, and it is nap time.   Go to sleep!”

“I pooped.”

“Babies don’t talk about their diapers.  It’s nap time, go to sleep!”

I realized whining wasn’t going to help.  I tried to find a comfortable position and waited until I was released from my prison.   I figured that the longer it took, the worse my diaper would smell, but that wasn’t my problem.

Fortunately, it was Michelle who let me out of the crib.   It was already humiliating enough when she changed my poopy diaper, but it was better than a teenager who pretended to be my aunt.  I was afraid that Michelle would be offended by my disgusting diaper.  Instead, she praised me, “I’m proud of you.  You’ve done all of your poops in your diaper, and you are a good pooper.”

It was hard to talk with a pacifier in my mouth, but I managed to get out, “Mommy, I thought you would be mad.”

“Oh baby, mommy is never mad about poopy diapers.  I don’t want you to have any poo in your tummy.”

I said, “it’s hard.”

Michelle thought I meant that it was hard to poop in a diaper and said, “I know it’s hard, that’s why mommy is so proud of you.”

I responded, “No, it’s hard on you.”   Mind you, it was garbled when I spoke through the pacifier, but Michelle understood what I meant.

“That’s a very adult thing to say, but remember, you’re my baby.  I don’t mind changing your diapers, even the poopy ones.”

Michelle took her time cleaning my bottom.   Including a shower head on the changing table was genius.  Michelle used it to spray all of the poo off my legs and then flipped me over to spray inside my butthole.  I was five years old when I learned how to wipe myself, but I was never very good at it.  My butt was cleaner than it had been in the last fifty-three years.

We got home a little bit after three o’clock, and by four-thirty, I was sitting in my playpen.  In my brain, it felt like my nap and diaper change took at least three hours, but it only took a little over an hour.  Mike was watching a baseball game while I watched from the playpen.  He noticed and asked, “Do you like baseball?”   It was the first time he spoke to me all day.

I started to talk, and then remembered I had a pacifier in my mouth.   I took it out and said, “Yeah, I like every sport.”

Mike didn’t say anything for a few minutes and then said, “Sorry about ignoring you.  I was just wigged out by the baby stuff.  Do you really like that?”

I shrugged my shoulders because I didn’t want to admit the truth.  I asked, “What about you, are you ok with all of this?”

“I’m not going to lie, it’s weird.   But it seems to make you happy, and mom looks happy as well.  It’s not hurting anybody, so you do you.”

“Thank you.”

Then Mike said, “Ok, but I’m not changing your diaper, nor am I treating you like a baby.”

“Good, I don’t want you to.”

We had grilled chicken with corn on the cob for dinner.  My chicken was cut up into bite-sized pieces, and the corn was cut from the cob.  I was in my little zone most of the weekend, but I knew Michelle was going to ask me what I wanted to do in just a few minutes.  It was hard to find my adult mind while I drank from a baby bottle and sat in a highchair, but I didn’t want to be in my little mind when I made that decision.

After dinner, Michelle asked, “Can you guys clean up while I take Uncle Mark to the nursery?”  I just had a nap and wasn’t remotely tired.  I wondered why I was being put to bed so early, but I didn’t protest.

Michelle closed the door as soon as we got to the nursery.  She then said, “Your baby weekend is up.  Do you want to be my boyfriend or my baby boy?”

Part of me wanted this to continue, but I didn’t want to be a three-year-old in the body of a fifty-eight-year-old man all of the time.  I liked the diapers; I like the crib, and I liked the pretend breastfeeding.    But I didn’t want to be confined to a playpen, and I didn’t like the early bedtimes.  I should have expressed all of those feelings, instead, I wimped out.  “What do you want?”

It was like Michelle knew what I was going to ask.   “Mark, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t want to, but it has to be your decision.”  She waited a bit, and then said, “Let’s see what you want.  What do you like about this?”

“Obviously, I like the diapers.”

Michelle laughed, “I don’t think you will ever give those up.  I’m not even sure that you could.  What else?”

“The numnums are great, and I really love the crib.   I like the cuddling and I like all the attention I get.”

“What do you not like?”

I didn’t stammer at all and answered, “I don’t want to be spanked anymore.”

Michelle replied, “I knew that.   That didn’t go as I planned.”

I continued, “I don’t like the playpen, and I feel embarrassed sitting in a highchair.”

Michelle remarked, “That’s good.”

“Why?”

“Because now I know what to do when you need to be punished.   It’s obvious spankings aren’t for you, but baby treatment might work.”

“So, what would it look like if I decide to stop?”

“It would be just like it was before we started.”

“Like Friday, or how it was a week ago?”

“A week ago. We would take down your crib, and you change your diapers in private.  You would be my live-in boyfriend.”

“I’m not sure if I could do that again.”  I hemmed a few seconds, which felt like minutes, and asked, “Do I have to go to bed so early?”

Michelle answered, “that depends on whether you’re good, or bad.   If you are good, I can let you stay up later, but if you are bad, you get an early bedtime.”

“Can I sit at the table?”

“That depends.  Can you eat without making a mess?”  I blushed; I knew that I was always a messy eater.  “If you show me that you can eat like a big boy, I’ll let you sit at the table.”

“I want to watch sports.  Could I watch the US Open next week?”

“I want to keep my baby happy, and I can’t imagine you being happy without your sports.”

Michelle seemed to give me everything I wanted, so I made one more request.  “Can I poop in the toilet?”

Michelle quickly replied.  “No! My baby is not potty trained.  You will be punished if you try to use the potty.”

“Why?”  This was a real question and not an objection.   Why would she want me to poop in my diapers, especially if she has to change them?

Michelle answered, “I want you to use diapers because potty training is the first step to independence for a baby.   You won’t have that privilege anymore.”  I understood what she meant.  It’s why I like diapers in the first place.  Michelle then said, “If this is what you want, step up on the changing table.  If not, take the rails off your crib.”

I thought about it for a second and hopped on the changing table.  “I want my mommy.”

“I was hoping you would say that.   Let’s get you ready for bed.”

I whined, “But mommy it’s early.  Do I have to go to bed right now?”

Michelle replied, “I guess not.  You can watch TV with aunty Jessica after you have your bath.”

Michelle gave me the full baby treatment.  She rubbed baby lotion all over my body.  She used loads of baby powder while changing my diaper and then dressed me in a yellow onesie with a large balloon on it.   It was the most infantile outfit I wore all weekend, and Michelle looked so happy as she snapped up the onesie.   I said, “I love you, mommy.”

Michelle smiled, “Ah, that’s so sweet.  I love you too.”   As far as I know, it was the first time we said “I love you” to each other.

Jessica smiled when she saw me in such a babyish onesie.  “That’s so cute.   Are you my baby brother now?”

Michelle answered, “Yes, he wants to be my baby boy.”

“That’s good.”  Jessica turned to me, “Do you want to sit with Aunty Jessica?”

She gave me a close hug and said, “Welcome to the family.”

Michelle gave Jessica a baby bottle filled with the cacao smoothie mix.  I sucked on the bottle while Jessica held it against my lips.

After the show, Michelle said, “Ok baby, it’s bedtime.”

I cried, “Ah!   One more show, please.”

Michelle snapped.   “No pouting.  Listen to mommy, or you don’t get numnums.”

I don’t know if Jessica knew what numnums were.  She just gently pushed me off her lap and said, “Good night baby, I’ll see you in the morning.”

I hugged Jessica, “Good night.  Thank you for being my aunty.”

When we got to the nursery, Michelle sat on the loveseat and showed me her breast.  “It is time for your numnums.”

I was happily sucking Michelle’s boobs, pretending that she had milk, and then an intense feeling came to my groin.  I got hard and knew I was about to cum.  It was like the wet dreams I had when I was younger; it felt like I was uncontrollably peeing.   I didn’t even have to touch my diaper.

At the same time, Michelle’s nipples hardened, and she began to spasm.   Michelle breathed harder and harder as I sucked on her breasts.  She whispered, “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,” and then suddenly relaxed.   We both orgasmed at the same time, even though I didn’t touch her clitoris and she didn’t touch my penis.

We finished and Michelle said, “Thank you, baby.”  She put me in the crib, lifted the rails, and said, “Nite-nite, sleep tight.”

I assume that the cacao mixture has some sort of sedative in it because I’m usually sleepy shortly after I drink it.   This time my eyes were shut before Michelle turned out the lights, and I didn’t wake up until she changed my pee and cum filled diaper in the middle of the night.  She gave me another bottle and put me back in the crib after I finished it.

I slept most of the night; I only woke up a few times.  That was pretty good for me, especially considering how much sleep I had that weekend.  I was sleeping when Michelle woke me in the morning.  I knew it was morning when I saw the sun peeking from the blinds.  She checked my diaper, “It’s a little wet, but I’m going to wait until you poo.”

She handed me two papers and said, “I’ve got some paperwork to make this official.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just something to give me guardianship.”

“Do we have to?”

Michelle sensed my hesitancy and said, “Don’t worry.  It’s just a temporary power of attorney, and you can revoke it whenever you want.   Since we aren’t married, we don’t have anything binding us together.  This will change that and make it easier in case anything happens.”

That made sense.  My cognitive abilities are still pretty good, but my doctors warned me that I might begin to lose some as I get older.  I think it was mainly symbolic, but I signed the paper anyway.   She then handed me another paper and said, “This one is just for us.  It lists all of my responsibilities.”

Mommy’s Rules

1. Mommy is responsible for Baby’s diapers
   1. Baby will not use the potty without Mommy’s permission
   2. Baby will not touch his diaper without Mommy’s permission
   3.  Baby will not tell Mommy if his diaper is dirty
2. Mommy is responsible for Baby’s safety
   1.  Baby stays where Mommy tells him
   2. Baby gets Mommy’s permission first
3. Mommy is responsible for Baby’s health
   1.  Baby goes to sleep when Mommy tells him
   2.  Baby eats and drinks what Mommy gives him
4.  Mommy’s word is final
   1. Baby will not argue with Mommy
5. Mommy can designate another mommy to care for Baby
   1. The babysitter will be a temporary Mommy for Baby

 

I agreed with everything, but I didn’t want a boy babysitter.   “Can we say the babysitter has to be a girl?”

“Does baby not want a daddy?”

“No.  It has to be a girl mommy.”

“All right, but I don’t think it’s necessary.  Men aren’t mature enough to babysit.”    I never knew that Michelle was a secret misandrist.  Underneath the last provision, she wrote: Boys can’t babysit Baby.   I signed and now I was officially Michelle’s child.

[spark]

Maternity Leave

It was the first day of my new life as a baby, and I didn’t know what to expect.   Michelle usually works from home, but what did that mean for me?   She treated me like I was three years old, and you wouldn’t leave a three-year-old unsupervised.   I was supervised the whole weekend and I didn’t know if that would still be the case.

I was surprised when Michelle didn’t go to her office.  I asked, “Don’t you have to work?”

Michelle answered, “No sweetie, I’m not going to work today.”

“Why not?”

“I’m on maternity leave.  I just adopted a little boy, and we need some bonding time.”

“Mommy, what are we going to do today?”

Michelle smiled, “Today it will be just you and me.  We will do numnums and have lots of cuddle time.”

We had a great day.  Other than our walk, we never left the house.   I spent most of the day on Michelle’s lap watching television or Michelle reading to me.  At naptime, Michelle got into the crib and stayed with me until I fell asleep.  She wasn’t there when I woke up, and that was the only time that she wasn’t close by. The best part of the whole thing was just how loved and accepted I felt.  I let all of my fears and insecurities leave when I was on her lap and let her love me.

Michelle never left me alone.  Unless I was in my nursery, I was supervised.  I needed Michelle’s permission to do the most basic things.  I even had to sit in my highchair while she made dinner because nobody could watch me in the living room.

I was happy, but I lamented my lost independence.  Michelle treated me like I was a baby, and even fed me the same bland food that you give to little kids.  I love to cook, and I wondered if that was still allowed.  Michelle asked, “Honey, what’s the matter?”

This had been such a wonderful day, and I didn’t want to ruin it by throwing a tantrum.  But I was overwhelmed with emotions and cried, “I don’t want to be a baby all the time.”

“I know that, and it won’t be all of the time.  I promise.  Today is just a special day.  Besides, you lost all of your big-boy privileges when you threw a tantrum on Saturday.   You have to earn those back.”

I didn’t want to sound petulant, but I asked, “How long will that take?”

“That depends.  If you’re good, we can go to a nice restaurant on Wednesday.”

“As a baby, or as an adult?”

“You have to be a big boy to eat at a restaurant because you can’t be a baby in public.”

I would need some adult time eventually, and I hoped Michelle knew that as well.  I climbed into my highchair and asked, “Are you still on Maternity leave?”

“I’m off until Thursday.  You have a doctor’s appointment and physical therapy tomorrow.  That sounds like a full day, so I don’t know if we will do anything else.   We can do something fun on Wednesday, and then you can be an adult.  Aunty Jessica will babysit you on Thursday because I’m working.”

She made beef and broccoli stir-fry which was already in bite-sized pieces, so my bowl looked just like hers. Michelle poured herself some wine and I looked longingly at it.  She then poured some into my sippy cup.  It made me feel a little more like an adult. I didn’t want to lose it, but it looked out of place, so I asked, “You’re letting me drink some wine?”

She winked, “I can’t say no to those puppy dog eyes.  It’s just a different kind of grape juice.”

I sipped my wine from the sippy cup, while Michelle sipped hers.  Despite my sitting in a highchair and drinking from a sippy cup, we talked just like we always have.   When we finally finished, Michelle asked “Do you want to hold your bottle like a big boy, or have mommy hold it for you.”

I blushed, “Can I sit on your lap?”

Michelle smiled, “Of course.  Mommy is going to clear the dishes, and then we can cuddle.”

We were on the couch for about two hours.  It was already nine and I still hadn’t started my bedtime routine.  I didn’t want it to end, but I knew she would make me go to bed at any moment.  Finally, Michelle looked at her phone and said, “I think Mommy lost track of time.”

I pouted like a small child, “Do I have to?  Can I have a few more minutes?”

Michelle ignored me.  “Mommy wants to show you something.”  

I thought she was mad.  She reprimands me whenever I pout or put up any kind of resistance.  I don’t like to be scolded, and I looked scared when I asked, “Mommy, what is it?”

Michelle laughed and said, “Silly you.  Let me show you.”

I didn’t put up any more resistance and took her hand.  “Ok, mommy.”

We walked past the nursery and Jessica’s room.   Michelle’s house isn’t a mansion, but it’s still big.  There are four bedrooms downstairs.  My nursery is one of them.  Jessica has another, and Michelle’s office is the third one.  We walked into the fourth bedroom. There was a tv, a few beanbag chairs, and my laptop was on a small computer table.  The play mat on the floor was identical to the one in the playpen, but it wasn’t fenced in.  There was a toy chest against the wall, and board games stacked up.  It looked like a college kid’s dream room.

Michelle said, “This used to be the kid’s playroom when they were young, and then it became Ryan’s room.  Now, it’s your playroom.”

“Really?”

“Yes, this way you won’t have to sit in the playpen unless you’re naughty.  We can still keep an eye on you because there is a baby monitor.   Maybe one day you can play with some other friends here.   Go ahead and explore while I get your tub ready.”

“THANK YOU!  This is what I’ve always wanted.”

“You’re welcome.  I thought you might like it.”

I wasn’t that interested in the toys, so I headed straight to the TV.  It was the same TV that was in my room before Michelle turned it into a nursery.  I logged into my YouTube TV account and saw all the shows I normally watch.  The home page was full of all the baseball, hockey, and basketball games that I missed over the weekend.  I saw my laptop on a desk in the corner and knew I could stay entertained all day in this room.

Michelle announced, “Ok, your bath is ready.”

“But I want to stay here.”

She gave me a harsh look.  I knew I screwed up and hoped that I would only get a warning, and not a punishment.  “Do you want to go back to the playpen?”

“No.”

“Good, then lie down so I can change your diaper and get you ready for bed.”

I felt bad and said, “I’m sorry.”

“I know, you’re just excited about your new playroom.  But remember, Mommy’s word is final.  That’s strike two.  Next time you go to time-out.”  I didn’t want another time-out, because that would mean staring in the corner for a super long time, and then having to start back in the playpen.  I complied with everything that Michelle asked for the rest of the night.  Eventually, she laughed, “I should have used timeouts a lot sooner.”

On Tuesday I had my first appointment with my new doctor.  I thought the doctor might want me to drop my pants, and I didn’t want him to see me in a diaper. 

“Can’t I just wear underwear?”

“No, I’m afraid you might pee your pants.”

I whined, “But he might see my diaper.”

“Well, I’m your Mommy, and I don’t want you to have an accident.”  I started to cry, and she said, “You can cry, but you’re still wearing a diaper.”

Now that Michelle had power of attorney, she could join me in the medical room.  Fortunately, they made sure I was ok with it, but she was there the whole time.    The medical assistant needed to check my weight and said, “I need you to remove your undergarment.”

I was confused and asked, “Undergarment?”

Michelle calmly said, “Sweetie, she means your diaper.”

The medical assistant pointed toward a bathroom and said, “You can change him in there.”  

 

The poor girl was flustered.   I was also embarrassed.  It felt like my most intimate secret was out, and I looked both sad and angry (sangry).  Michelle put her arm around my back and said, “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve never had somebody see my diaper like that.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about?  Did you think you would keep it a secret?”

Reluctantly I said, “I guess not.”

Michelle let me sulk a bit, and then said, “Let’s get the diaper off, I don’t think you want to be weighed in a soggy diaper.”

I didn’t think I was very wet.   I said, “You just changed it, and I haven’t peed very much.”

Michelle chuckled, “Sorry honey, but it’s pretty wet.”

I made it through the exam without wetting myself.  The doctor was happy with my weight, my blood pressure, and my vitals were all good.  He asked the typical questions, and I answered without Michelle’s assistance.  However, he directed his advice to Michelle, and not to me.  I guess he figured she was in charge.  Finally, the doctor asked, “Is your incontinence a new symptom, or from your surgery?”

I looked over to Michelle, hoping she would say something, but she stayed silent.  She gave me a look that said, ‘Go on, just tell him the truth.’   And I knew that if I didn’t tell the truth, Michelle would.  I replied, “No, I’ve worn them for a while.”

The doctor retorted, “I didn’t see anything in your chart.  Have you disclosed this to another doctor?”

With a little bit of embarrassment, I said, “No.”

He continued, “This is nothing to be embarrassed about.  I can refer you to a urologist, and we might find an alternative method, so you won’t need to use briefs.”

I got tired of all the code words and pussyfooting around my diapers.   I decided to come completely clean. “I call them diapers, and I wear them because it helps me relax.”

The doctor asked, “Really?”  

I explained, “diapers are a security blanket, and I feel comfortable when I wear them.”

Michelle was about to burst and without any filter, she said, “Mark has decided to reject potty training.”

I don’t know if the doctor fully understood our dynamic, but it didn’t matter.  He said, “It sounds like you are comfortable with the diapers, and that’s your choice.”

Michelle laughed, “It’s just like when my kids were in diapers.”

“I’ll note this on his chart, but we won’t worry about it.  You can use the bathroom down the hall to get him diapered.”

We walked to the bathroom and Michelle said, “See, that wasn’t too bad.  How do you feel?”

“To be honest, I’m relieved.  I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Michelle was surprised, “You mean, no doctors have ever known about this?”

I replied, “I kept wondering if somebody knew, but nobody ever asked.”

“But now you’re glad that you told them, right?”

“Yeah, it’s freeing.”

Next, we went to my physical therapy appointment, and Michelle stayed in the waiting room while I worked with my therapist.   She said in a calming tone as I walked in, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

My physical therapist is a young Indian lady named Priya.  This was only my third time with her, but we already had a good working relationship.  She seemed to anticipate any issue but wouldn’t let me use it as an excuse.   My appointment followed the same routines as before.  There was a warm-up, and then Priya took me through a series of exercises while asking me questions about my recovery.  At the end of the appointment, Priya usually gives me a printout of the exercises and instructions for the rest of the week.

This time she took me into her office and asked, “Would you like me to show you some exercises to help with bladder control?”   I didn’t answer right away, so Priya continued, “You might not have to use nappies.”

The word ‘nappy’ is a trigger, especially coming from Priya’s posh Indian accent.  As I normally do when flustered, I mumbled, stammered, and managed to get out a semi-audible, “that’s all right.”

Priya nodded as if her suspicions had been confirmed, “Your chart says that you want to use nappies to control your incontinence.  I also see that Ms. Michelle is now your executor.  Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

This was a big risk, and probably a huge ethical violation, but I trusted her and said, “go ahead.”

“Are you an adult baby?”

She knew the answer when she saw me blush.  For some reason, it felt natural to tell this woman half my age that I like to be treated like a baby and wear diapers.  “Yes, do you know much about it?”

Priya answered, “I noticed your nappies last week, and thought that might be true.  I guess, we just know our kind.”  She continued, “I sometimes like being a baby myself, but I like being a mommy as well.”  She looked me over and said, “I think, you just like being a little boy, don’t you?”  I nodded, and then she asked, “Is Ms. Michelle your mommy?”

“I think so.”

“Wonderful, how long has she been your mommy?”

 “Since Friday.”

“I’m so happy for you, congratulations on finding a mommy.  I bet you can’t wait to be with her again.”   I blushed and nodded, so she continued, “Well come on.  Your mommy is in the waiting room.”

Priya walked me over to Michelle.  She told her, “He had a really good session.  He is a sweet little boy.”  Nobody else could hear it, but it was more public than I wanted.  Priya wrote a note on my instructions and said, “These are his exercises, please call me if you have any questions.”

Michelle asked as we walked back to the car, “Did you tell her?”

I said, “She figured it out herself.  She noticed my diaper last week.  What did she write?”

I saw Michelle beam as she handed me the note. The note said:

Ms. Michelle.

Congratulations on your new baby.  Call me if you need a babysitter.

Priya

209-555-4652

I asked, “Are you going to call her?”

Michelle answered, “I might if I need a babysitter.”   She asked, “Where do you want to eat?”

We went to In-N-Out for lunch.  I felt childish when I gave her my order.   “I want a Double-Double, French Fries, and a coke.”

Michelle replied.  “I’ll get you the double-double, but no soft drinks.  They have too much sugar.” I don’t know why I wanted a soft drink, because I didn’t drink them anymore, but I felt like I earned a treat.   At least I didn’t feel like a baby as I ate my Double-Double like everybody else.

I was tired and a little cranky when we got home.  I still hadn’t spent any time in the playroom, so I asked, “Can I play?”

Michelle countered, “It’s naptime.”

I whined, “But I want to play.”

“Your whining tells me that you need a nap.   Let’s get you a bottle.  You can play after.”

I slept for the whole two hours, so I guess she was right.  I honestly don’t know why I whine when they put me down for a nap, because I like them.  But little kids don’t like taking naps, so it’s part of being regressed.  In the end, mommies always know best.

I finally got to play in the playroom after my nap.  It was the first time since Friday that I was by myself.   I enjoyed the privacy.  At least what constitutes privacy for somebody living like a three-year-old.   If this was my future, I could live like this.

We decided to go to San Francisco on Wednesday.  I was supposed to be an adult that day, but just before we left, Michelle announced, “I’m going to bring your stroller.”

I didn’t know how that made me feel.  I was looking forward to being an adult again but riding in a stroller was a fantasy.   I said, “I thought I was going to be an adult today.”

Michelle replied, “You can, but I think the stroller will make things easier.  There will be a lot of walking, and San Francisco has a lot of hills.”

I agreed, “Yeah, I’m not very good with hills.”

Michelle then replied, “You know the stroller doesn’t look like a kid’s stroller.   It’s more like a pushchair, I’m sure nobody will think you’re riding in a stroller when they see you.   It also might help us, especially on BART, or if you need to be changed.   And you don’t have to be a baby unless you want to.”

I smirked, “Strollers are for babies, so I guess I’m going to be a baby.”  In reality, I was excited about it.

Michelle laughed, “I might have created a monster.”

It was about an hour’s drive, and then another hour on BART to get to San Francisco.   Michelle was right about people giving us space when they saw me in the stroller.  I sat right next to the door, in the handicapped area, while Michelle sat next to me.  It was nice that she didn’t have to stand.

The first place we went was the Museum of Modern Art, which I don’t care about, but Michelle does.  She seemed to take forever at each exhibit, and I started to get bored.  That along with riding in the stroller put me into Little Mode.   Michelle calmly said in a motherly tone, “Stop squirming, and just enjoy the exhibits.”

In a slightly bratty voice, I asked, “What am I looking at?”

Michelle explained why things that looked like scribbles were art.   I still don’t understand, but I pretended to be interested.   Eventually, Michelle commented, “I think baseball is boring, so there.”

The stroller allowed us to use the accessible bathroom at the MOMA, and Michelle changed my diaper in it.  After the MOMA we went to a nice Mexican restaurant for lunch and continued our discussion about why baseball is a lot better than the MOMA.   At least that’s what I said, Michelle had different thoughts.  Lunch was the first time all week I didn’t feel like I was a baby.

We went to the Giants game after lunch, which was fun.  I got to drink a beer, while Michelle had a cocktail.   About halfway through it, my diaper started to get clammy.  I used to be able to wear the same diaper all day long.  Especially if I was in public and didn’t want to change it.  Now I was peeing constantly, and my diapers needed to be changed every few hours

Michelle saw me squirming and felt my clumpy diaper.  She said, “I think we better change your diaper.”

Unfortunately, we didn’t know where the accessible bathroom was, so Michelle had to ask the usher.  “Excuse me, my husband needs a change.  Is there a family bathroom we can use?”

At first, the guy was confused and asked, “A change, you mean like clothes?”

Michelle answered, “No,” and then he understood and led us to the family bathroom.

It felt weird getting exposed like that, but it wasn’t a big deal.  Michelle remarked, “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to use the stroller.  Nobody will think it is strange to take you into a family bathroom.”

A mother with two young children showed up at the family bathroom as we waited to get in.   I guess her kids were five and seven.  I noticed she was carrying a diaper bag, but her kids looked too old for diapers.

Michelle asked, “Would you like to go ahead of us?”

The mother replied, “That’s ok, you were ahead of us.”

Michelle said, “It’s not a problem.  If one of them needs to potty, go ahead.”

The mom said, “That’s nice of you, but they’re already wet,” while pointing to her diaper bag.

After the game, we ate dinner at a nice restaurant.  Once we got to our table I leaned over and said, “Thank you for this.”

Michelle replied, “No problem, I had a lot of fun today.”

“Today was fun, but I’m talking about everything you’ve done for me.  Without you, I don’t know what I would do.”

To be honest, Michelle is not great at taking compliments.  She just does what needs to be done and doesn’t expect people to thank her.  Michelle replied, “it’s nothing.  I just did what anybody else would do.”

“No, you’ve done so much.  You took me in, and then accepted this side of me. I never imagined that would ever happen.”

Michelle asked, “when did you first think of me as a potential girlfriend?”

I sheepishly responded, “Probably about ten years ago.  I was waiting for you to leave Ryan.”

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything, even after he moved out?”

I didn’t have the answer.  I was attracted to Michelle, and I thought she felt the same way.  I had an excuse when she was married, but not after she left Ryan.  I stammered, “um, uh, hmmm, I’m not sure.”

Michelle answered, “I didn’t know why until you told me about your diapers.  Now I know that you are just a shy little boy, and that’s the little boy that I get to grow old with.”

“You’re not going to get tired of me?  What if this never stops?  I have to ask, why did you agree to this?”

Michelle had a stern look, “Honey, if you keep talking bad about yourself, I’m putting you in time-out.”  She saw my eyes well up, “I’m sorry honey, but I can’t let you bring yourself down.  This is what you are.”

I asked, “And are you ok with that?”

“Of course.  Do you remember the first time I changed your diaper?”  It had only been two weeks, and that moment was permanently etched in my memory.   Michelle continued, “I knew that’s what you wanted.  I also knew that you would never ask me to do it.”

I said, “That was the first time anybody changed my diaper since I was a little kid.”

“I knew that and that’s why I did it, but I didn’t expect it to feel so good for me.  I thought it would be like changing my dad, but I was aroused when I changed your diaper.”

“Do you think it’s like BSDM?”

“I guess so, but that’s about control.   I just wanted to protect and love you.  It’s always been that way, even when we worked together.”

I looked at Michelle and said, “I love you.  And that’s not just a little boy loving his mommy.   I love you as a man loving a woman.”

Michelle laughed, “Mark, you’re always a little boy.  You just pretend to be an adult.  You are a better man than anybody I know, but you are still a little boy.  I loved you before all of this, and I love you more now.  So no, I’m never growing tired of this.   I want to be your mommy forever.”

[wetdiaper55]

Great Chapter

[dyperaby]

♥

[Eagle0769]

Great chapter for sure. Nothing comes close to having a women love a man and doing what he wants

and she enjoys it. I'm a little disappointed that after they said they loved each other and she said

"I loved you before all of this, and I love you more now". I thought she had special feelings for him more

 than her little baby boy. ?

 

[spark]

On 11/7/2022 at 2:29 AM, wetdiaper55 said:

Great Chapter

On 11/7/2022 at 5:40 AM, dyperaby said:

♥

Thank you.  It's been fun writing.  I've almost drafted up to the epilogue, which will be a summary after 6 months.   The chapter was fun to write.  I'll admit the editing process was more involved than I expected.

On 11/7/2022 at 2:41 PM, Eagle0769 said:

Great chapter for sure. Nothing comes close to having a women love a man and doing what he wants

and she enjoys it. I'm a little disappointed that after they said they loved each other and she said

"I loved you before all of this, and I love you more now". I thought she had special feelings for him more

 than her little baby boy. ?

 

Their relationship is complicated.  I'm drawing a little bit from a Kindle story "Full-Time Permanent Adult Infant".  The line where Michelle says that she knows that Mark is really a small boy pretending to be an adult is important.  Based on how I've written it, and how I'm trying to convey it, Michelle considers Mark her little baby boy because that who she considers to be his true persona.  The man that she knew all those years in the friendzone was somebody who playing the role of adult.   In her mind, it wasn't until Mark revealed it to her that she finally understood all of his quirks that she loved, even though they drove her crazy. 

The real life inspiration for Michelle is somewhat of a control freak, and has a built-in desire to be needed.  FTR- it's not 3 kids, it's five.  Four of them are adult children, and only one has left the nest.   She has 3 dogs, a cat, and I think she once had a lizard.   Michelle's arousal stems from the control that she has over Mark.

[spark]

I literally just finished the draft of the final chapter.  I'm writing the epilogue where I tie all the bows together, and I'll still need to edit the chapters  that I've not published (about 12k words), but it looks like I'll have a complete story for everybody.

[Sir Stinkypants]

This was great fun! It has a kindly, personal feel; the characters are fairly well developed, so that one feels he or she knows them. A fantasy it may be, I’m sure it describes those of many here, but the suspension of disbelief is reasonably minimal. Overall, I’d call it an excellent offering. Thank you so much for writing it, and sharing it with us!

[BabySerenity]

On 11/11/2022 at 7:20 PM, spark said:

I literally just finished the draft of the final chapter.  I'm writing the epilogue where I tie all the bows together, and I'll still need to edit the chapters  that I've not published (about 12k words), but it looks like I'll have a complete story for everybody.

Yayyyyy

[spark]

Another Time Out

We didn’t get home until nine, which feels like a late night to me now.   We were both keyed up, and excited.   We were looking forward to being intimate with each other.   Jessica greeted us, “How was your day?”

Michelle beamed, “It was great.  It was fun.  We had a nice lunch and a great dinner.  The museum was fun, and I enjoyed the ball game.”  Michelle was rambling, which rarely happens.  I think she was too excited and overcome with joy.

Jessica asked, “Was Uncle Mark a big boy, or was he a baby?”

“He was kind of both.  He was a big boy at dinner, but a little boy at the MOMA.   He was so cute riding in his stroller, but he was kind of a brat.”  She then turned to me and said, “And speaking of little boys, I think it’s time for your bath.”

I whined, “But, I’m not tired.”

Michelle snapped, “You’re pouting; that means you are tired.”   Michelle’s stern words made me feel bad, and I started to cry.  Michelle noticed, “I’m sorry baby.  Don’t worry, mommy isn’t mad at you.   You’re going to get an extra special bath time tonight.”

Michelle sat in the tub with me and sensually bathed me.  While the bath felt like we were two adults, she spoke to me like I was her baby. After we finished, she wrapped me in a towel like I was a small child, and we went back to the nursery.  I got up onto the changing table and Michelle rubbed baby lotion all over my body.  She saw my erect penis and calmly asked, “Is my baby getting excited?  Do you want mommy to help you?”

I managed to say, “Yes, please.”  She started to stroke my penis.  Just before I started to cum, I asked, “Do you want me to go inside you?” We still hadn’t made love, and if Michelle wanted it, we had to start right away.

Michelle put a pacifier in my mouth and shushed me.  “No baby, this is just for you.”  It didn’t take long until I spurted out a mountain of cum.    Michelle praised me, “My, that’s a lot of boy sauce.  Mommy is impressed.”  She cleaned it up and readied me for bed.  She sat on the loveseat and said “Now you get to help mommy.  You have your numnums, and mommy will help herself.”   Michelle masturbated while I latched on to her breast, I fell asleep on her chest as she climaxed.  She put me in my crib, kissed my head, and said, “It’s Nite-nite time.  Go to sleep.”

This was Michelle’s last day of maternity leave, but I was too tired and far too regressed to think about it.   I fell asleep without realizing I was going to have a babysitter who was forty years younger than me.  I slept the entire night and the next thing I remember was Michelle coming into the nursery.  I asked her, “Is it morning already?”

Michelle answered, “Not yet, Mommy wants to see you before I leave.”

“Where are you going?  Are you leaving me alone?”   I was whining and feeling abandoned.

Michelle answered, “Aunty Jessica is going to watch you.”

“I don’t want her.  Can I just stay here, alone?”

Michelle retorted, “No you can’t.  I can’t leave you alone anymore.  If you’re good, I’ll give you a special treat.”

Michelle wouldn’t change her mind, so I reluctantly muttered “I’ll be good.”

She took me to the loveseat and let me suck on her breast for a few minutes.   It might have been a quickie, but that’s how Michelle conditioned me to accept my new status.  I got rewarded when I let them treat me like a baby and was punished when I didn’t.  A few minutes later she closed up her blouse and said, “Mommy has to go now.  Remember, be good for Aunty Jessica,” and put me back in my crib.

I don’t know how much longer I slept.  I think Michelle came into the nursery around six, and it was about eight o’clock when Jessica woke me up.   Jessica put her hand on my diaper and said, “your diaper is soaked, but I’m going to wait for you to poo before I change it.”   It was still embarrassing when Jessica talked about my diapers, especially when I knew I would have a poopy diaper.  I lost count of how many times Michelle had changed my diapers, but Jessica had only changed them twice.

Jessica cheerily said, “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

I whined, “Do I have to sit in a highchair?”

“No, mommy told me that you can use a big boy chair.   I’ll even let you have some coffee with your oatmeal.”

She put the oatmeal in a purple bowl, and my coffee was in a sippy cup, but at least I was sitting at the table.   I did my best not to make a mess either on my bib or in my diaper.   I lasted a few minutes and then tried to fart, but a soft pudding-like mass filled my diaper.  Jessica asked, “Do you have a poopy diaper?”

I was feeling bad and sheepishly said, “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?   That’s what your diaper is for.  I’ll change your diaper after you finish.”  If Jessica was repulsed by changing a grown man’s poopy diaper, she didn’t show it.   She even praised me for pooping in the diaper.

I asked, “Do you praise Billy when he poops in his diaper?”

She thought a bit and then said, “It depends.  He sometimes holds his poo and needs encouragement.  Remember, we’re teaching Billy to use the potty, but you’re learning to use diapers.  Billy gets rewarded for using the potty, and you should be rewarded for using your diapers.”  She put her hand through the cuffs, patted the back of my diaper, and said, “There you are, all clean and dry.”

I wanted to watch the US Open, so I headed to my playroom.  Jessica stopped me, “I know you want to go to the playroom, but we should go on our walk first before it gets too hot.”

I nodded, and in a feeble attempt to regain my adult status I said, “You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to.”

  Jessica scoffed, “Silly boy.  Aunty can’t let you go by yourself.”

I reluctantly gave in, “Ok, but it might look strange.”

Jessica ignored it and said, “Remember, you have to hold my hand, especially when crossing the street.”

“Do I have to?  People are going to think it’s weird.”

Jessica waited a moment and said, “Ok, but make sure to look both ways before crossing the street.”

I acted like it was a normal walk.   I didn’t see anybody on the road, and I didn’t stop at the first intersection.   Jessica caught up to me, took my hand, and said, “What did I tell you?”

“Look both ways before crossing the street.”

“Yes, and you didn’t.  Now you have to hold my hand.”

I whined, “But nobody was coming.”

Jessica shot me a stern look and warned, “Don’t argue with aunty.”

After that, Jessica modeled the correct way to cross the street, no matter how empty it was.  She exaggerated the steps: stop, look both ways, and then cross the street.  She tugged back each time I tried to pull my hand away, so I stopped fighting.  I didn’t want to make a scene, and it would be worse if I fought her.   Fortunately, it didn’t seem like anybody cared enough to notice.

Jessica was proud of me when we got back.  She said, “Thank you for being a good boy and staying close to aunty.   Do you want to play in the living room, or do you want to play in your playroom?”

I answered eagerly, “The playroom.”

“I thought so.”  She took me to the playroom and turned on the baby monitor.  She then closed the child gate and warned, “Don’t leave this room.  I can still see and hear you with the baby monitor.”   She handed me a bottle of lemon tea and said, “Here is your bottle.”

I grabbed the bottle and then took the remote.  Jessica lowered her eyes and asked, “What do you say?”

I was annoyed, but I didn’t want to sound that way.  I shot back, “Thanks.”

Jessica scolded me.  “That’s not how you say, ‘thank you.’   I want you to say, ‘Thank you, Aunty Jessica.’”  She then ordered, “Now, say it.”

I was even more annoyed, but I knew why she was doing this.   In her mind, I was a petulant brat, and I needed to respect her authority.   With feigned politeness, I said, “Thank you, Aunty Jessica.”

“That’s better.  You’re welcome.”

I was finally alone and could watch golf; this was my happy place.   I had my computer and the US Open was on television.  I sucked down my bottle, and then sucked on my pacifier.

After an hour Jessica called out through the monitor, “Uncle Mark, can you come to my room?  I want to check your diaper.”  

It had been three hours since my last change.   My diaper was wet, but I didn’t want to leave the playroom.  I knew it could last a few more hours, so I said, “It’s fine.  It’s only a little wet.”

Jessica came into the playroom and angrily said, “That wasn’t a question.  You need to listen to me.”   She checked my diaper, and with disdain said, “Only a little wet?  You’re more than just a little wet and it’s time to change your diaper.”

I cried, “Not yet, I want to watch more television.”

Jessica was annoyed with my attitude.  She put a pacifier in my mouth and scolded me with her finger.  “Stop with the attitude this instant.   You’re going to timeout if I need to speak to you again.”

She changed me on the playroom mat, and then said, “It’s time for lunch.”

We went to the kitchen, and I cried when I saw Jessica take out the highchair, “No, please.”

Jessica held firm, “You’re being naughty, only good boys sit at the table.”

I was angry but knew that I would get in trouble if I fought her anymore.  I reluctantly climbed into my highchair.  Jessica cut my sandwich into bite-sized pieces and filled a sippy cup with some milk.  I ate fast because I wanted to watch more golf.   I finished, and then asked, “Can I go back to my playroom, please?”   That please was more sarcastic than sincere, but I thought it would help.

Jessica shook her head and said, “Not yet.  I have to finish my lunch, and then we’re going to your nursery.   You need a nap, but first, we need to give you your bottle.”

I was beyond frustrated and felt powerless.  I pouted, “I don’t want a nap.  I’m not tired, and I want to watch television.”   This time my voice was more desperate than angry.

Jessica took pity and said, “I know, but you’re cranky.  That means you need a nap, and I think it needs to be a long one.”

Jessica took me into my nursery and sat on the loveseat.   “Put your head on my lap.”  I knew I had used up all of her patience, and I couldn’t afford to push it any further.  I put my head on her lap and sucked down the bottle.   I knew that it would make me poop in a few hours, but there was nothing I could do about it.  Jessica ran her hand through my hair and said, “You’re cute, even when you’re pouting.”

I climbed into my crib and sulked.    Jessica turned out the lights and said, “Get some sleep, and hopefully, you won’t be so cranky when you wake up.”

I knew that it would be a long nap, but it was longer than I expected.  I had a lot of time to think about my behavior.  I knew that Michelle would be mad when she got home, but maybe it wouldn’t be as bad if I behaved better in the afternoon.  Jessica was proud of me after we finished our walk because I let her lead and I didn’t pout.  I told myself to stop pouting.

I chirped “Hi, Aunty Jessica,” when I saw her come into the nursery to wake me up.

“I’m glad to see that you’re not cranky anymore.   I guess you needed that nap after all.”   I nodded, and Jessica continued.   “You can play until mommy gets home.”

I felt the pressure in my bowels change when I stood up, and I had to poo.   I didn’t want another poopy diaper, so I headed to the bathroom.  Jessica stopped me and asked, “Where are you going, the playroom is this way?”

“I want to poop in the toilet.”  I sounded like I was a little kid, even though I wanted to sound confident and mature.

“No, babies use diapers.”

I stomped my foot down and said, “I’m not a baby! I want to use the bathroom.”  I wanted to sound like an adult, but it was more of a tantrum.

Jessica took a few deep breaths and said, “That’s it.  You’re going in timeout.”

She marched me to the corner and told me to face the wall with my hands behind my back.   “Don’t move.”   She came back with an extra-large pacifier that was twice as big as my usual one.   She said, “Open your mouth,” and put it in my mouth.  It had a strap around my head, and I couldn’t spit it out.  Aside from the large size that made it impossible to talk, the pacifier had a bitter aftertaste.   “I’m setting the timer.  I’ll start it over if you move from the corner.”

Jessica never told me how many minutes were on the timer, but it felt longer than the first timeout.  I was angry that I had a babysitter but knew why Michelle demanded it.  I once asked her, “Why do I need a babysitter?”

She said, “Because this isn’t a game.   You’re not just an adult pretending to be a little boy.  You’re a little boy who pretends to be an adult.  You don’t have to do that anymore, but that means I can’t leave you alone.”

I was just as angry at myself.  If I had only let Jessica baby me, I could be in the playroom watching golf.  That’s all I wanted to do, but now I was in timeout and wondering about my eventual punishment.

It was even worse after I pooped in my diaper.  I now had a wet and stinky diaper, and I was staring at a wall sucking on a yucky pacifier.  Finally, Jessica took the pacifier out of my mouth and asked, “Are you ready to apologize.”

It was a genuine apology, “I’m sorry Aunty Jessica.  I know you were just trying to take care of me.”

“That’s nice, now let’s get you out of that stinky diaper.”

To her credit, Jessica never raised her voice or even showed anger.  She was an extremely good babysitter.  She was strict but not mean or angry.  She never ignored me, even when I was in the playroom.  Except for my timeout, she never let me stay in a dirty diaper very long.   On top of that, her diaper changes were thorough and pleasant.

She finished and said, “You have to stay in your playpen because you were in timeout.”

I asked, “Can I watch television?”

“No, I’m in the kitchen and I need to watch you.   Play with a toy in the playpen.”   

I took a toy airplane and a teddy bear with me.   I wondered what Michelle would do when she got home.   I just sat silently in my playpen and hoped I wouldn’t get another spanking.

Michelle went straight to me when she got home.  “It sounds like you had a bad day.  I’m disappointed that you weren’t a good boy for Aunty Jessica.”

I started to cry and asked, “Are you going to spank me?”

Michelle spoke firmly, “No.  We don’t spank in this house, but you’re lucky because you earned one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be!  You were naughty.   Go stand in the corner while Aunty Jessica and I decide what to do.”

I cried, “But I already served my timeout.  Why do I have to go to the corner?”

Michelle pointed at the wall and said, “CORNER, NOW!”  I grabbed my teddy bear and stomped into the corner.  Michelle reprimanded me, “You’re not helping yourself by pouting.”  She put headphones on me, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying.   It wasn’t as bad as my other timeouts.   The music gave me a perception of time, and I didn’t have a poopy diaper.

Two songs later they were back.  Jessica took the pacifier out of my mouth and took the headphones off.   She said, “We decided what to do.”

Michelle started, “First you need to apologize to Aunty Jessica and thank her for watching you.”

“I’m sorry Aunty Jessica.  Thank You for babysitting me.”

Then Michelle said, “You’re usually good for me, but you need to be good for aunty Jessica as well.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Michelle continued, “Good.  I’m going to give you a lot of practice being good for aunty Jessica.”

I asked, “What do you mean?”

“This weekend, she is your nanny.  She is in charge.  She will decide your bedtime, what you eat, and what you can and can’t do.  Do you understand?”

I dropped my head in defeat, “Yes, I understand.”

Jessica then said, “Ok, it’s your dinner time.”

I cried, “But, I’m not hungry.”

Jessica cautioned, “No more pouting,” and then put a pacifier in my mouth.

She strapped me securely into my highchair and warned, “You’re getting baby food tonight, and all day tomorrow.  I’ll let you eat big kid food on Saturday, but if you’re bad, you’ll get more baby food.”   She gave me mashed potatoes and mushy peas, which were bland and disgusting.  I hated it, but each time I opened my mouth she shoved in another spoonful.

After I finished the disgusting baby food, Jessica announced, “It’s bedtime.  You were very naughty, so you get an extra early bedtime.”  It wasn’t even six o’clock yet.

Jessica took me to the nursery, gave me a sponge bath, and then gave me a bottle of cacao smoothie.  She said, “Drink all of this, and then it’s time for bed.”   After I finished the bottle, she put me in my crib and said, “Today was a bad day, I hope tomorrow is better.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Update on the progress.  I've got one more chapter of the base story to edit, and then an epilogue.  The story is complete, but I need to complete the editing before I publish it.