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Love being loved 1-4

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Love being loved


I’d been tossing and turning since I’d come to bed. I don’t know why I couldn’t relax or get comfortable maybe because the bedding just seemed so heavy and bulky. No matter which way I turned, or pushed my bedding off, it just didn’t seem right.


I’d come to bed just after 11pm, put on my tartan flannel boxer shorts, even tuned my bedside gizmo to play some tranquil sounds and slipped quickly into a peaceful sleep. However, I woke up with a start just after midnight. I had no idea what caused it but was wide awake, which was strange as I’d been yawning all day and desperate for a good night’s sleep.

Once my brain starts to connect onto a thought I find it very difficult to shake off. The problem was I was thinking ‘I’m tired so why can’t I get to sleep?’ and that conundrum kept me awake.

The gizmo was still pumping out ethereal music but the fidgeting and squirming continued for over an hour as my brain just wouldn’t let go of some inconsequential thought.

Lettuce! Yes, lettuce. I don’t even like the stuff but yet this green salad was keeping me awake with thoughts of how much water it contained. WHAT THE HELL?

Eventually, I slipped into a troubled sleep but again, it didn’t feel like sleep. It was as if I was drowsing when I should have been awake and what was worse I started to burp and fart every time I moved position.

Surely thinking about lettuce can’t produce symptoms can it?

My stomach felt bloated like it was holding in a giant uncomfortable balloon and was letting little gasps of air out trying to relieve the situation.

Fart, burp – burp, fartttt... the farts got longer but still my stomach remained full of air however, there was no smell so assumed it was all just trapped wind.

I slipped into another fitful sleep but awoke with a start. A cucumber had entered my dream-world and that had started to enter me. With my mouth wide open in surprise I could feel a sense of amazement that began as a slight irritated tickle as a prelude to a sneeze. I couldn’t stifle it down and let out a loud sudden “Aasshhooo”. At the same moment I knew the fart I’d just let rip in conjunction with it had been more than the passing of air and my bladder also got in on the act.

I lay there for a second or two trying to take in the momentousness of this triple action but it was too late. I could feel the lump in my boxers and I couldn’t stop piss soaking into the flimsy cotton. Eventually I had to do something and tried to spur myself into action and sidle out from my bed. I had one hand clutching my bum, hoping to hold the contents in, and the other trying desperately to extricate myself from being tangled in the bedding. One-handedly, it was taking quite a bit of time and effort... and panic wasn’t helping the situation.

The clock flashed 02:46 as I finally found my feet and made my way to the bathroom. I slid down those messy boxers and threw them into the bath and immediately sat on the toilet and made sure I emptied myself. The noise and smell was not conducive to sleep though my stomach felt relief whilst filling the bowl.

After a few minutes I felt I was done. I flushed then looked to the debris which were my boxers and gave them a temporary wash through. Standing naked at the sink I could feel eyes on me.


“Oh baby,” It was Daddy. “I don’t think you were quite ready for big boy responsibilities were you?”

The independence I thought was so close to what I wanted had disappeared in the mess I’d made and the grown up thoughts I imagined taking their place faded as I stood naked and shaking under Daddy’s watchful eye.

The feeling of guilt and stupidity engulfed me and I could do nothing but sadly shake my head “No Daddy... ermmm... sowwy”. My shame caught in my apology and I felt a tear slip from the corner of my eye.

“Not to worry sweetheart, take a nice long shower... and your bums covered in poo so pay specific attention to that area... and I’ll sort stuff out.”

I nodded that I would. I still had my back turned to him because of the tears and didn’t want him to see how upset the event had made me. It was bad enough that I’d made such a mess and dreaded to think what he’d discover when entering my room. However, at that moment I was just too overcome to give that much thought as I needed to do as Daddy said, and take a shower to clean myself up.

I stood under the warm jets and let the water take some of the guilt away. I saw messy brown blobs slip down the plug hole and wondered if I should have wiped myself better. God, I can’t do anything right. I’m just a silly little baby who needs his Daddy.


When I’d finished I grabbed a towel and made my way back to the bedroom. All the bedding had been removed and my little bed just had the clear plastic cover it had had since the mattress had been bought. It was a safety barrier I was glad had never been removed.

Needless to say other than the bedding my room hadn’t changed. The rails around the bed, which for some time now I hadn’t needed raising as I felt safe enough without them, I knew would be back in force next bed time. The posters of Disney characters and kids TV shows I had on the walls, and that I hoped with my new found independence (being a big boy) were going to be changed for something more ‘adult’, were still welcoming. My open closet revealed the clothes daddy preferred me to wear; shorts, onesies, dungarees and other joyfully colourful items beckoned and I knew that my days of being a big boy were over much before they started.

I’d made a mess in Daddy’s boxer shorts; I was just a silly little kid who didn’t know what was best for him. Luckily I had a Daddy who did.

As I patted myself dry Daddy entered the room carrying a bundle of stuff. He looked, as he always did like a man in charge. Hunky, broad, muscular, tall and wearing similar boxers to the ones I’d been wearing (after all they had been a pair of his). His hairy chest and short hair making him appear like someone who should be on TV advertising shampoo or fixing a bit of machinery... well, some such item. Daddy was all man.

“OK baby, let’s get you organised shall we?” It wasn’t really a question as he spread out the stuff on my changing table and indicated to lie out.

Sowwy Daddy,” I said sheepishly.

He just shushed me with a smile as if to say don’t worry, everything is OK.

First he took a small towel and wiped the area making sure that every crevice was dry and then rubbed in some cream.

I looked up at Daddy to see if he was angry but he just continued to smile and gently shushed me again as I tried to say something.

“All in good time sweetie, first let’s get you ready, eh?”

Next came a shower of talc, I just loved the lavender smell as he smoothed that in.

He unfurled a terry-cotton square, folded it into a triangle, added a thick extra soaker pad and nappy liner “Upsies” he said and slipped it under my bum.

He was very adept at this and swiftly followed through with some pins to fasten it all together... I hardly had time to draw breath.

“Upsies again sweetie,” he smiled and slid a pair of pink plastic pants up and over the bulky nappy. “Nearly there baby.” He then shook out a pink onesie and pulled it over my head. It shimmied down my body so was able to fasten the little studs between my legs. “One last thing,” he pinned a binkie to it and then slipped the silicon bulb between my lips. “There we go all ready for a proper night’s bo-bos now.”

He guided me into his room and drew back the covers. “In you go sweetheart, Daddy thinks it’s best if you’re with him for the rest of the night.”

I crawled into bed, the onesie hugging the nappy close and the binkie soothing my anxieties.

He slipped in behind and nuzzled the short hair on the back of my head.

“Daddy loves his sweet baby so don’t be upset... you’ve done nothing wrong and Daddy’s proud of his sweet little dumpling.” His strong arms encircled me and pulled me in close. It was what I needed. I was hugged and happy so drifted off almost immediately but not before Daddy gave me ‘butterfly kisses’ on the back of my neck and repeated how much he loved me.

I loved it so wriggled and crinkled in contentment “I wuv o oo babby,” was all I could muffle out from behind the binkie.

“OK sweetheart, straight to sleep now. Daddy’s here to protect you from any nasty dreams so you just relax and...”

The soothing sucking action made sure I was asleep before he finished.


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  • Les Lea changed the title to Love being loved 1-2

Part 2

Andrew Sullivan always enjoyed the sight of a young guy wearing a nappy. It had become an obsession since he was a teenager and had only grown as he’d gotten older. It started when his middle-aged mother quite unexpectedly fell pregnant and produced a baby brother for fourteen year-old Andrew. What was also totally unexpected was the way this teenager took to his new baby brother William and how much, as the boy grew up, he loved being with him. He loved his toddler clothes and when he eventually got to be potty trained, it was with some regret that Andrew saw that his use and need for nappies diminished.

Seeing his little brother potter about the house wearing only his protection or under his clothes (but with that tell-tale bulge), gave Andrew immense pleasure. So, he made sure that his little brother would wear a nappy for as long as possible.

He cajoled William, in the nicest possible way, to enjoy being a boy in a nappy for as long as he could get away with it. His mother was worried that her youngest was taking too long to potty train but Andrew made it so his brother was confined to them well into his early school days.

Eventually, his mother discovered what her eldest had been doing – wetting the boy’s protection and encouraging him to stay in his childish padding. As Andrew was nearing being twenty it didn’t go down well and she more or less kicked him out of the family home and said she’d ever forgive him.

However, Andrew was very resourceful and found work and a little bedsit of his own but what mother didn’t know was that William used to visit Andrew on the sly and the two continued with their need for nappies; one to wear them, the other to take loving care of the wearer.

This, some might say, odd continued co-dependency was something their mother never knew about, both were getting a great deal of enjoyment from their situation and William loved the care and attention his doting older brother gave him.

It was when William was eleven and moved up to senior school that he stopped wanting to wear a nappy. Actually, he just thought that now he was with other, older boys, his liking for such security wouldn’t go down well with his mates should they find out so, much to Andrew’s sadness, he stopped his regular visits.

So Andrew had to find another outlet for his desire to love and comfort a boy in nappies.

At the same fortuitous time, on his twenty-fifth birthday, he unexpectedly found that he became the recipient of his grandfather’s benevolence. As the solicitor explained, he was now the owner of several properties (which were bringing in a considerable income) and received a rather ‘independence giving’ inheritance of just over one million pounds.


Despite my attempt at being a big boy I woke up in Daddy’s bed and to a sodden nappy. I think, over all, I’d only gone three nights without waking up wet and that was for the last couple of nights whilst we were away on vacation and again the night before last.

We’d had a wonderful two weeks in an apartment that overlooked the sea but wasn’t itself overlooked. Daddy started me off with, as usual, thick disposables, just for travelling but less thick ones once we’d arrived. Throughout our stay I was getting more and more confident and, on the last couple of days I woke up to a dry nappy and begged Daddy to let me wear big boy pants like him from then on.

Daddy very rarely denied me anything unless he thought it was dangerous for a baby to undertake, or, would result in me being upset in the end.  However, he must have known it was important to me so said if I thought I was ready (to try and be a big boy), why not.

As it was on our vacation I wore my usual onesie and nappy to bed but with having those dry nights Daddy let me experiment wearing his grown up boxers... a pair of the boxer shorts he slept in. They were large but because they were Daddy’s I loved wearing them. They made me feel close to him when he wasn’t in bed with me.

To me Daddy was all man all the time but when wearing his bed time boxers he seemed to radiate something more. I suppose it was because I’d never really had a positive male model. My family, well, I’d prefer not to go into that but they weren’t nice but Daddy, yes, well he wanted nothing more than to let me be his sweet little boy but knew from experience that sometimes a boy needed to grow up.

I could see he had doubts but didn’t want to spoil my exploration to new (or renewed) areas of experience. So for the last two nights of the holiday he let me wear his boxers without protection at night. Well, I did wear pull-ups under them like I wore during the day, but not the thick fabric nappies I usually slept in. All went well and I woke up to dry pull-ups. So, when we arrived home he let me continue.

I was excited about wearing Daddy’s boxers but he said as I’m still only a little boy but once we were sure he’d buy me whatever style of jammies I wanted, instead of the onesies and footed sleepers I usually wore to bed. I’d seen some blue and white striped ones that I thought looked nice and had mentioned them to Daddy before we went on holiday.

That first night back I woke up dry but last night, things just didn’t seem right and my head was as jumbled as the bed, whilst it squirmed with thoughts and problems I didn’t know I had. After two years of being a little boy with no responsibilities it must have dawned on me that by growing up would mean I now did... being grown up was no fun.

I had felt grown up. Wearing Daddy’s boxers and going to bed well past my usual bedtime had that effect. I love Daddy but hoped, now I wasn’t waking up soaked, I could be more like him. He had said that if I wanted to try he didn’t want to stop me... Daddy is like that... very understanding.

However, Daddy didn’t say that he expected me to be responsible; I just assumed that went with being a big boy. However, last night, once he’d put me back in a nappy and soothed my worries I was happy to return to things as they were, expecting that thick padding would return to being worn 24/7.

Once I realised I didn’t have to be a big boy for him, and that things could easily resume as they were, I was glad to cuddle and thank him for being my wonderful Daddy. We snuggled and he patted my padding and told me I would always be his little baby and mustn’t worry about anything else because that was all that mattered.

I hadn’t known that daddy had bought those striped pyjamas anyway and let me wear them over my thick fleecy nappy. They were made of very soft cotton and had elasticated cuffs and waistband, which dipped at the front under my nappy bulge. Daddy said I looked so cute he wished he’d bought me PJs earlier.

He stroked my head and whispered just how ‘perfect’ he thought I was. It was hard not to think he was the most wonderful man in the world.


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Hi Maly

Thanks for your encouragement though not sure if this type of story goes down well with readers?

However, I perceiver and hope for the best... it isn't a long story.

Hugs to each and all (sorry but I can't see a emoji for hugs)


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  • Les Lea changed the title to Love being loved 1-3

Part 3

Our two weeks abroad had been to celebrate our two years together and had been wonderful. Daddy had booked an apartment that was in such a wonderful location with views out across the Atlantic Ocean and long sandy beaches. We spent nearly all day out and about, sometimes laying out enjoying the sun, whilst I played in the sand or at the sea’s edge (as a kid trips away with mum and dad were few and far between so this was quite the most wonderful of experiences). Some days we’d drive off into the countryside or into the mountains to explore the area, eating in local restaurants or visiting places of interest. Unless we were on the beach, where Daddy let me just wear my pale green nylon Speedos - being near or in the sea, drips didn’t register - the rest of the time I wore a disposables and plastic pants under my shorts just so I felt safe. It also meant Daddy was happy to know his baby was well protected from any worries about possible accidental trickles.

Usually, Daddy is fairly strict about what I see and do and always keeps an eye on what I wear. Although I’m twenty, 5’6” and 110 pounds, he’s never allowed me to smoke, alcohol is frowned upon, drugs are a definite no-no and late nights, just for the sake of having a late night, is regarded as a silly thing to do when a baby should be getting a full night’s rest. All this may sound quite restrictive but Daddy said my health was of the utmost importance and didn’t think it clever to give me a life time habit, which could so easily be avoided.

On holiday I experienced new food and drink, some of which didn’t quite agree with me so I was glad he insisted on my wearing a thick nappy most of the time. It had caught a few accidental ‘spills’ which he was quick to change so I never had to wander around too long in a messy nappy.

Since the first time I met him Daddy has always cared. As I’ve said, at the very beginning he asked me if I wanted a new start and if I’d be willing to let him make all decision about my life. As I was in a pretty awful place at the time, what with family problems and financial worries, I simply thought things couldn’t get any worse. Every decision I’d made up to that point had not turned out that great and I was, mentally at least, seriously floating in dangerous waters. Daddy said I could have a fresh start but he needed me to want it more than anything else.


At that original meeting in Burger King I was doubtful of even approaching him. He looked so hunky and wonderful and thought he was too good to be true and I’d be hurt. Actually, he looked so manly I was more than a little scared. However, he noticed this shy, waif-like lad looking nervously in his direction and approached me. I admitted to who I was and his smile immediately put me at my ease (even though my heart rate was through the roof).

We sat talking and it was great to be able to tell him things that I’d had bottled up for ages. There were no family members I could talk to as they all hated me. At eighteen I had few friends and certainly none I’d trust with such intimate information about my worries. Those uncertainties were simple enough, after my family life, I just wanted to be loved. However, Andrew let me talk and encouraged me to get things off my chest. It was so liberating.

We chatted for over two hours and to be honest I didn’t want it to end, it was like I’d found my first ever real proper friend. He wrote his phone number on my hand and said that he had to go but, if I still wanted what I said I wanted in a week’s time, to give him a call. I didn’t know if he was giving me a gentle brush off or if he meant it but I thought I’d find out in a week’s time. I committed that phone number to memory.

Over the next seven days the only thing my mind could cope with was calling that number, telling Andrew “Yes”, I still wanted what he was offering and hoped he did too? So, when I nervously called the number and his voice seemed genuinely glad to hear mine, I was so eager. However, he didn’t immediately jump to any conclusion but made me say that I was ready.

“I love that you want things to change for you Sammy” Even him calling me Sammy was wonderful because instead of the usual annoyance used by my family, there was a touch of nice, familiarity that was very appealing. “But I need you to be sure and for you to want it so... please say in your own words what you want.”

I knew he was giving me the opportunity to think again.

During that initial discussion and before he said he had to go, he implied that he would want me to wear nappies all of the time. It was the one thing he was definite about as he didn’t want me to be under any illusion about what he expected from me. At the time I thought it was a bit weird but he did say he wanted me to ‘start again’ so...

“Andrew, please let me be your loving son... I’m sure we will be good together and... I promise I'll wear anything you want me to.” I smiled and could discern the relief on his voice.

“OK, I hoped you’d call and I’ve made some plans. Do you want to come and live with me?” He hummed a little bit and for the first time their seemed to be a little doubt to his voice. “I’m not pressuring you, I’m sure we can do this from a distance to begin with if you prefer...”

“No, no, no. Please, I’d love to be... you know... your baby boy.” There was both anxiety and excitement in my voice.

“OK then, let’s make that happen but from now on... you call me Daddy, OK?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Good boy... Good Baby Boy.”


As I finished the call with “Yes Daddy” I once again mentally reviewed that initial meeting. It had been the first time I’d ever felt I had something in common, some kind of connection, with another person. The fact he was big (a good nine inches taller than me), strong and looked like he could look after himself really appealed. I’m not a brave boy. Foolish, some might say owing to the number of unnecessary scrapes I used to get myself in when growing up. Because I was scrawny and not tall for my age I’d get picked on quite a bit. I’d like to say it was just at school but my high achieving family – mum, dad, older brother and sister, all brilliant in their own ways, all seemed to get a kick out of putting me down.

I’m not like them as my achievements are more ‘low’ than ‘high’ and, what with the way I looked and acted they regarded me as an unnecessary negative to their positive family image. The ‘runt’ is how I’d often been described by my own family, and, well, it hurt. It's not like they involved me in any of their projects or discussions, I’d be left out or worse still, told to go to my room and stay there out of the way. So, when Daddy came along and offered me not only a way out but a chance to reinvent – yes, that’s what he called it – a reinvention of myself - I thought I should at least give it a go.

When he told me what he planned I was unsure. A slight regression and ‘back to basics’ but, and he stressed this point, nothing I wouldn’t grow to love and the reason for that would be because I would be loved.

His constantly encouraging attitude was something I’d not encountered before. He made me feel like I was as much in charge of my future as anyone else. He didn’t see problems because there would never be conflict between us and all I had to do was say ‘Yes’.


That first week wearing a nappy, and told to use it, was a bit awkward but, as he said, he loved seeing me dressed that way, I got used to the thick padding and began to love the fact that this gorgeous, hunk of a man wanted to take care of me.

From the start there was loads of gentle pats to my padded bum, hugs in my fleecy tops and tickles when I needed them. It wasn’t that I was miserable, far from it, I was still feeling my way but Daddy was true to his word... I’d never felt more loved.

On the first occasion, as I lay naked and vulnerable in front of him, he couldn’t have been more caring or considerate. He explained what he was going to do and why. He wanted me to understand and experience what being taken care of felt like and, as this was the most fundamental early point of trust, wanted me to know that he would never abuse that trust. Naked as I was, I was also respected as a baby and a baby needs loads and loads of love and care. Awkward as it could have been, and I certainly wasn’t too sure, his calming and encouraging words drifted into my head and I felt at ease.

He was correct, I did love being his baby boy and wanted to do anything to please him and repay his thoughtful, loving ways as much as possible. I wasn’t particularly hairy but he said he wanted me to be as smooth as a baby and set about the task.

I was quite nervous because I didn’t know what to expect but he tenderly slathered my entire body (except my head) with some cream. An act I’d never experienced anything like before, and then, after a few minutes gently wiped all the stuff off. My few hairs went with the cream and my body felt silky smooth. It was nice to know I was pleasing him and that by doing so he treated me with such love and consideration, something my family never showed me. As he folded that first nappy and pinned me in I knew he was the person I could trust and depend upon.

Although I had relatively long hair he wanted his boy to look boyish so took me to the barber who seemed to know him very well, and I got my first proper haircut. He liked for me to keep it short and on that first occasion showed me exactly how he thought a baby boy (a cute baby boy is what he called me), should look like. The clippers made short work of my mop of blondish hair and left me with cut that felt more like velvet.

“All the better to snuffle my baby’s sweet head,” was how daddy described it and that comment sent shivers of expectation down through my body and into my toes.

Once he saw how much I loved what he was doing he made sure that was the way it would be and acting the child has since come so easy and I’m grateful for the opportunity Daddy offered two years ago.

In fact, I very quickly grew to appreciate wearing a nappy. I wouldn’t have thought that I would but it offered such cosy comfort and a gentle hug all the time, I could see why Daddy loved me to wear one. It was simply an extension of his love.


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I was excited to see a new story.  I like how this one has started.  Definitely different with a man being the primary caregiver but nothing says a man can’t be loving and caring.  I am enjoying it so far and looking forward to more. 

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  • Les Lea changed the title to Love being loved 1-4

Part 4


Andrew couldn’t explain it. He’d thought about having kids of his own but didn’t want that kind of family life. He’d noticed that as William got older, the fact he was still wearing a nappy, and seemed to enjoy all the childish items and love his brother bestowed on him, the cuter he looked.

An older boy wearing protection was certainly what he thought to be an ideal situation. A youth who still wanted to cling to his childhood and enjoy the benefits of someone older and loving who would happily take great care of them. It was a search he wasn’t sure would produce results.

He was in no doubt that this was a weird desire, fetish even, but it was one that spurred him on to find that special someone. Surprisingly, even with these considerations, or maybe because of them, his newly acquired business continued to be a success. After all, there wasn’t too much ‘hands on’ effort needed on his part and what there was could be done online or via his legal office. He had time enough for his main project.

As it was, there had been a couple of trials, one of them lasting almost a year but the commitment just wasn’t there; that was until Baby Sam entered his life. He’d never thought an advert online might just reveal the very person he was searching for and, after that first meeting at the town’s Burger King, couldn’t quite believe that sweet natured (though totally chaotic) boy would be the one.

He hadn’t liked the fact Sam’s own family abused him, even if it wasn’t physical, it was still abuse. No child should suffer that and was determined, if Sam came to join him, he’d never be abused physically, mentally or sexually. He would be treated as a baby and looked after with the love and devotion that should go without saying in the care for a child.

After all, the main thing that made Andrew’s life special was seeing any boy or young man wearing a nappy. It had been a pleasure since his baby brother was on the scene and even after all these years, a brief sighting of such an event could still brighten up his day. His ambition was to have a nappy-wearing boy of his own and Sam not only looked the part but took to it with equal enthusiasm.


For the last two years I’ve been Daddy’s baby boy. He said it was important that we start at the beginning and that meant right back to childhood. Although I was sceptical about the entire thing I was desperate to change my life. I’d gotten myself into all manner of stupid situations and the family had taken against me with a united front. I was a HUGE disappointment to them all and apparently was badly letting each one of them down. There’d already been talk about me finding a place of my own (‘and the quicker the better’ dad snarled at me) so when I met Andrew I was already frantic about my future.

I’d met him online. I was trolling some sites and came across one about ABDL and Regression. I remember thinking “I wish I could do that. Just go back and start again... with a new family.” The idea appealed though I had no idea how it would work. On impulse I got in touch with Andrew who’d posted some photos of what he thought was an ideal situation - young guys wearing nappies, sucking on dummies, playing with stuffed toys and looking extremely happy and content. I thought I wanted that, a chance to forget and a chance to have no worries. To be honest, I was so naïve, it didn’t occur to me that those images were what he really wanted... I thought they were for ‘illustrative’ purposes.

Now I know it seems an act of complete desperation, and I cannot deny that perhaps at first it was, but there was something about Andrew and what he was offering that hit home. He wasn’t demanding he didn’t talk down to me; he regarded me as an equal who, as he so confidently told me, just wanted to get into a nappy and look after.

Not once, as we spoke, did I feel I’d be a victim, or a joke was being played, everything about him said he was genuine and honest. He told me what he wanted and what to expect and in return he offered something I’d never received before – LOVE.


Within the space of two days I’d told mum and dad I was moving out. I didn’t tell them about anything I was going to do or explain my sudden departure. I just left them thinking I’d found work elsewhere so I needed to move to a different city. They seemed relieved (‘good riddance’ was the overpowering atmosphere) and didn’t ask any questions so I simply packed a case, emptied my almost negligible bank account and moved in with Andrew... and it was amazing what he’d organised by the time I arrived with case in hand.

“Welcome Baby Sammy to your new home,” he beamed such a solid and enthusiastic welcome and invited me in. “Let’s get you sorted.”

He told me to leave my case at the door as from that moment on everything I’d be wearing would be decided by him. He ran a bath, and although I told him I’d had one before I arrived, he wanted me to take another and, “no more arguments”. There was no threat to what he said, just a gentle reminder that from that moment on I would be treated as a baby and therefore all decision would be made by Daddy. He asked me once again if I was sure I wanted that to happen. To be honest, I was scared and thrilled at the prospect but couldn’t wait to get started, even though I had no idea what I was really letting myself in for – it was a desperate adventure?

That bath was the clinching moment when I just committed to letting Andrew become Daddy. Laying in the warmth he gently bathed me, though it was extremely personal and intimate, I wondered if he intended having sex. Of course, I was a teenager with those desires and my body reacted to such gentle ministrations.

Sex! Would he demand it and would I want to give it to him?

I was a virgin. I’d masturbated regularly, and got caught up in many handheld fantasies but the actual fucking or being fucked had not taken place. I realised we’d be two males together, so if sex was on the cards I assumed that I’d be the one getting fucked, which worried me more than a little... simply because, though I knew about people being gay, it had never entered my head that I might be. However, now that I think about it, how stupid I must have been not to talk about this more before I committed myself to living with Andrew. Also, even if I wasn’t aware of them why would I agree to become another man’s baby boy if I didn’t already have such feelings?  Maybe I was in denial about a lot of things?

Because I moaned as he washed my dick and he saw it was growing and obviously I desired a ‘happy ending’ he asked if I wanted that to happen.

I replied I didn’t mind if that’s what he wanted but he just said, whilst dripping water over my shampooed head, that I was a baby so any thoughts of sex would remain just that, thoughts. He would happily just watch me being a happy little boy in a bulky nappy... and that’s all he wanted.

When he helped me out of the tub and into a lovely thick towel he rubbed me dry and I was still hard.

“Sweetheart,” he said slowly rubbing me dry, “this is our first time together and I don’t want to do anything that either of us later regrets so, for the time being at least, I think I’ll keep Little Sammy here,” and gently flicked my hardened penis to one side, “hidden behind a few nice layers of padding... okay?”

I nodded and that’s just what he did.

“But just so you know, what you do in your nappy is okay by me. When ready I’ll change you as necessary but you should have no fear about being a little boy and using your nappy.” He looked down on me and smiled. “Your happiness is now my prime concern and as long as it’s not something that will hurt you... I’m happy for you to be happy... no judgement in that area okay?”

I got the implication.


Daddy cuddles me loads and loves stroking my bulging nappy and slippery plastic pants. He adores dressing me up in childish garb and never stops praising me for finishing a painting or crayoning a nice picture. I have toys that I never had as a kid and love now being able to play with them without worrying about mum or dad or any of my family shouting at me to clear stuff away or stop making a noise. Daddy encouraged me to be as joyful, energetic and happy as I want to be... this was such a release and yet another thing I hadn’t know I wanted... maybe needed?

Now you may think that as a teenager I’d resent being returned to a toddler in all but size. After all, I was subject to all the desires any other teenager goes through. I was way past puberty and although my body wasn’t hard and firm like many of my peers, I couldn’t be mistaken for a child - except, when you’re treated as a child, which came with a huge dollop of love, it was a relief to slip into a life where anxiety and fear had been replaced by comfort and tenderness.

It was the same at meal times. Although my diet was controlled, he was full of praise for finishing each meal and very attentive to any drips that landed on my bib. Daddy made me take most of my drink from a bottle, although sometimes, depending on what we were eating, I could use a sippy cup. Also, pinned to my top was a binkie that he said I should get used to as I’d be sucking on it for most of the time when we were together.

I was amazed at how quickly I took to wearing nappies and using them. I said I didn’t like to mess them but I didn’t mind wetting them. So, he agreed for me to use the potty once out of my soaked night time nappy (I always had a large warm milk before bedtime so that made me pee in the night) and before he got me ready for the day ahead. Sometimes I didn’t make it and messed but he just got on with being the perfect Daddy and cleaned me up as soon as possible. After that I didn’t mind messing in my nappy because Daddy said that’s what it’s there for. Anyhow, I just loved the attention and enjoyed even more wearing anything Daddy put me in. I felt happy, safe and loved... and I loved being Daddy’s little baby boy and the focus of all his attention. A mucky nappy didn’t worry him so why on Earth should it worry me, so now, it doesn’t.


“OK Sweetie,” Daddy had put me in a lovely thick fleecy nappy that kept my legs bowed there was so much extra padding in it. “For the moment I want my Baby Sammy to feel just how good it can be to wear a nappy that simply engulfs him. I want my special boy to experience what he’ll miss if he wears Big Boy underwear instead of what little boys should always feel safe wearing.”

He was smiling and encouraging all the way through the operation, gently making sure everything fitted well and that I returned to my comfortable little world. I had toys and stuffed animals to play with, Daddy was always happy to play games and came up with some super-duper ones. In fact, I had loads of things to keep me occupied but nothing adult, even TV was restricted.

Wrapped up as I was I couldn’t walk and think that was the idea as he wanted me to shuffle around on my hands and knees. Moving that way means the fabric rubs in a different manner to when you’re standing so it became another way of appreciating just how nice wearing a nappy can be.


In an earlier relationship Andrew had been asked about wearing nappies and whether he’d ever worn them.

“Yes,” he answered truthfully, “when my brother used to come round to my bedsit I’d occasionally wrap myself in a pair as an incentive for him not to feel strange about wearing them. I quite enjoyed the fullness of having my privates swathed snuggly but I much preferred to be the one looking after my sweet brother in his. After a while it didn’t seem important to pretend any more, and as William was happy to be my little baby, I stopped.”

Although no one knew about their relationship being anything other than brotherly Andrew didn’t make William wear outside of the bedsit. It was only later when he had his first relationship, his first baby partner who wasn’t his brother that he wanted to see his new cutie out and about looking snug, if a little shy, wearing in public.

Andrew had been thrilled when that first person had called him “Daddy” it was what he wanted but it also meant he had responsibilities. He wanted his sweet baby to look his best and have the best and never stopped buying as many childish things as he could that would keep his padded little baby happy. That was before he came into his inheritance so money then was at a premium but that didn’t stop him lavishing what he had on his sweet little boy.

Now he had no such money worries, Baby Sammy was short of nothing and Daddy loved making sure he had all the latest styles and the most comfortable, thick nappies that money could buy. He loved seeing his little one crawl or happily totter around all nicely bound and looking so at ease.

Unfortunately, Andrew no longer sees his family. Having moved away, and not wishing to flaunt his desires in his mother’s face, Baby Sammy never got to meet her or his Uncle William, which if he was being honest, Andrew regretted. Still, William had his own inheritance when he recently reached the age of twenty-five but is still deciding what to do with it. However, he has been in touch with Andrew to suggest that perhaps they should go into partnership, both parties are thinking of just what that would be... and whether they should. William seemed quite eager and that got Andrew wondering if he still had feelings for the way things used to be when a schoolboy?


At home I mainly wore a nappy, or a nappy with plastic pants and little else down below. I had a huge array of colourful and juvenile onesies Daddy occasionally let me chose one that he would happily fasten between my legs to help hold up the fabric cushion I was becoming dependent on. When we went out I wore shorts, the length of which depended on where we were going. They often barely covered the copious protection so there was never an occasion to hide what I was wearing or if they did, the short’s material was so loose it just flopped around the mass. Daddy always emphasised I should be proud of my padding as it not only offered protection but gave an opportunity to do what babies had always done – pee and poo without worry.

Daddy loved taking me to kiddie-themed restaurants and although we occasionally got a few stares, Daddy was always so encouraging that after a while none of that bothered me.

Daddy was insistent that letting go of any grown up thoughts and actions would be beneficial to our relationship. He knew it would take time, and that there would be things I just wouldn’t want to do but, he said in the most loving of ways, I must do what Daddy says.

He was correct. In my head was speech but he only wanted me to talk like a toddler. To begin with this was more difficult than I thought. I mean I had the thoughts of a growing teenager, and, although I might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, I wasn’t completely dumb.

My life was a cross between being a defenceless little baby or an excitable toddler and I loved both equally.

He quickly taught me to use sucking on my binkie to stop from talking all the time. We only watched children’s shows and cartoons together. He only spoke to me like he’d chat to a toddler and eventually I got used to responding in a similar way. He loved it when I got into the infantile part, my inhibitions down and my mental capacity equally low. When we’d go out together I had to hold his hand until I was allowed to go off to play.


Strange looks from parents of children meant I couldn’t play with other toddlers so spent an awful lot of time playing on my own. Eventually he introduced me to a couple of his friends who also had boys like me in tow. I was shocked that there were others, teenaged nappy wearers nearby. It had never occurred to me that there would be a community of little boys and girls, all wearing padding and all suitably regressed in one way or another. It was bizarre but I really loved playing with ‘kids’ like me. However, I noticed that some were enjoying their role more than others. So, even though Daddy might have looked like he was distracted talking to someone else, I knew his eyes were on me the entire time making sure I came to no harm and not influenced by anyone else.

Also when we were out in public Daddy never made me wear just toddler clothes all the time but I came to appreciate them more and more as I got less anxious about what others thought. Thankfully, he did insist on being well protected so padding and plastic pants were always under my shorts. He never insisted I use the binkie but it was always in easy reach. He maintained that sucking on my binkie would reduce any feelings of stress so should have it with me at all times. He was correct; I came to rely on my binkie more than I thought possible and it did all the things Daddy promised.

He wanted me to point, babble or do a little ‘potty dance’ for the things I needed and between us we’d work out just what it was. That way we’d develop reliance on each other. He made it sound like I’d be contributing but in fact my contribution was to forget as much as possible, fill my nappy, let Daddy change me, be as cute and as childish as possible and in exchange I would be cherished above all else.

Like the first time we went to a toy store. I mean, I know at my real age I shouldn’t have been as excited as I was. Yet, despite wearing such an immature outfit and a very obvious nappy in public, I loved getting to play with and choose some pieces for myself. We both sat in the middle of an aisle, me crinkling and my plastic pants visible down my shorts leg, whilst playing with loads of different items like little kids. It was terrific.

Now there’s never a moment when, once I’d let go of all things ‘adult’, I didn’t think Daddy was, and is, there for me. He loves seeing me in my childish clothes and wearing a thick nappy. He adores changing and patting the padding whilst telling me what a ‘good boy’ I am. He never stops hugging and praising me, reading stories or making sure I have a bottle and binkie always within reach.


After the brief but disastrous attempt at being a ‘big boy’ after the holiday I realise I have everything I want as things are. I never thought that wearing a nappy would be so good and comforting or that I would actually still desire, after all this time, the childishness of such things as toys and stuffed animals.

Daddy seems as happy as I am with the way things are and I don’t want anything to change (except my messy nappies ha-ha).

I have my own room with a bed but it has rails that get pulled up if Daddy thinks I’ve been restless or a little grumpy for some reason (I do occasionally get into a mood usually out of frustration). It looks like a kid’s nursery and has plenty of toys and stuffed animals around to keep me company. Daddy only lets me sleep with him if he thinks I need looking after because of a nightmare or some other thing that might have upset me in some way. I love it when we sleep together and often I’ll creep into his room and climb in just to be hugged by my big, strong Daddy. He never refuses to let me snuggle and although always well-padded I love it when Daddy runs his hands gently over my plastic pants and nappy and tells me what a good boy I’ve been for filling them.

You may wonder about the future because after two years things you might think would have changed. Well, Daddy has simply said that whilst I wear my nappies and enjoy being looked after I’m still a baby and have no need to worry about the future because he’ll be there to be Daddy.

I play with toy trains and cars and LEGO and have castles and dragons and dinosaurs and farms and... everything.

It is a life I never thought I’d want but realise it’s a life I needed and appreciate.

Daddy has bought a new range of nappies and plastic pants which he can’t wait for me to try. He says nothing is too good for his sweet little cherub - the person he loves above all else.

I love being loved... wouldn’t you?

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I loved the sweet story.  I am a bit curious though.  What motivates Andrew?  I get they he loves babies and taking care of them but what is it that makes him love a permanent baby?  I love children and loved raising my kids.  I did all that was necessary to care for them.  I bathed them, changed them, played with them. I fed them and loved them.  As they were growing,  I participated in all of their activities.  I coached teams they were on.  I was a scout leader for them.  I attended all of the concerts and games and plays they were in. The ultimate objective was to raise them to be good people who had a better life than I had.  I wanted them happy and healthy and raising their own families. So I am not sure what Andrew wanted to get out of the relationship. Changing diapers was something that needed to be done it wasn’t necessarily something I enjoyed.  It definitely wasn’t anything sexual or gratifying in anything other than having a clean sweet smelling child. My intention here isn’t to criticize but rather to gain an understanding of what would drive a person like Andrew to do what he does. 

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22 hours ago, CDfm said:

I loved the sweet story.  I am a bit curious though.  What motivates Andrew?  I get they he loves babies and taking care of them but what is it that makes him love a permanent baby?  I love children and loved raising my kids.  I did all that was necessary to care for them.  I bathed them, changed them, played with them. I fed them and loved them.  As they were growing,  I participated in all of their activities.  I coached teams they were on.  I was a scout leader for them.  I attended all of the concerts and games and plays they were in. The ultimate objective was to raise them to be good people who had a better life than I had.  I wanted them happy and healthy and raising their own families. So I am not sure what Andrew wanted to get out of the relationship. Changing diapers was something that needed to be done it wasn’t necessarily something I enjoyed.  It definitely wasn’t anything sexual or gratifying in anything other than having a clean sweet smelling child. My intention here isn’t to criticize but rather to gain an understanding of what would drive a person like Andrew to do what he does. 


Good question, but I don't think Andrew knows himself. He knows that this desire is 'weird' and a strange 'fetish' but it's what drives him to keep Sammy that way.

He's always loved seeing a baby, a child, youths and young men in nappies and associates wearing such an item with childishness behaviour... which he's keen for them to pursue.

Of course, as with previous relationships, eventually Sammy might want to change the status quo but form the moment... being the centre of Andrew's life, wearing nappies and acting like a baby suits him to keep things as they are.

For most of his life Sammy has been deprived of love and now he'll do whatever it takes to keep the love he has... Meanwhile, Andrew loves his baby boy... and needs nothing else.

15 hours ago, maly said:

This is a lovely feel good story makes me feel all mushy.

Thanks so much Les Lea.


Glad it's had that effect Maly... lovely to have such a response.


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  • 2 months later...

Sammy was going to add more but Andrew just wants him to be his little baby boy who enjoys picture books, cartoons and his nappies.

So sadly... that's all folks (as his favourite cartoon says).


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