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Creamed Nappy   (a True Story)                                                                                  by Les Lea

A few years ago when I was 20, I’d been in touch with a guy called Dave who I’d met through an online ‘special interest’ group. The interest he shared with me was for shiny shorts and underwear. I suppose on that score nothing has changed much in the intervening years although I’ve added to that list now. However, on with my experience, after a couple of messages and photo exchange we decided that we should meet up and have a bit of ‘fun’. I drove to his place, just over a hundred miles away, eventually finding the tower block where he lived.

It was a warm day and I wore a pair of tight fitting jeans over my tiny shiny dark blue shorts… and a T-shirt. He’d already said that he had plenty of different styles of shorts that he wanted to see me sporting… so, other than what I was wearing I took nothing extra.


A much more muscular guy, older than I’d expected, perhaps in his late 30s, wearing a pair of shiny, loose fitting pale blue shorts answered my knock on the roughly painted council flat door… his welcome however seemed enthusiastic and genuine. His living room was sparsely furnished, a threadbare rug spread over part of the linoleum flooring with a dilapidated couch and single armchair making up the seating arrangements. A mirror, a battered old hi-fi and TV completed the furnishings, as did several empty mugs and a plate of half-eaten spaghetti.

Still, I wasn’t there as a representative from ‘House and Home’ and he seemed happy enough to have me visit. He asked what I was wearing under my jeans and once I’d told him he suggested, as he was already down to his shorts, I might feel better stripping down to mine. As my T-shirt and jeans came off I noticed that Dave viewed me with an appreciative look on his face and he was dead complimentary about my body. He liked the slightly hairy chest but loved my ‘rugby player’s’ thighs and bum… he thought they really emphasized the shorts I was wearing and couldn’t wait to see me in some of his.


We both knew what we were there for so immediately started to caress and stroke each other’s hardening cocks through the shiny material and when we both had stonking hard-ons he suggested I try on some other shorts from his ‘vast’ collection. His collection was not in the least bit vast. In fact it was just six pairs of very tight and shiny shorts, which made me feel quite disappointed as I felt that I’d been hoodwinked into travelling quite some distance for relatively nothing. Still, I was there and I was actually enjoying stripping and trying to get the tight shorts over my rock hard cock… it was quite a struggle. Not because of my immense thick cock… unfortunately, but his selection of favourite shorts were all incredibly tight. Still he helped me wrestle them up over my throbbing dick and swivelling hips, whilst I was enjoying the feel of this guy’s attention. Every now and then he’d step back and survey the scene I presented and mutter some words of admiration… that, I have to confess, did my ego no harm at all.


It was strange that I relaxed in his company so quickly because, to be honest, the photos he’d sent me to begin with looked very little like the man now before me caressing my cock. In the photos we’d exchanged he looked a lot younger, wirier and not as muscular… but at least he wasn’t fat and although he was no stunner… he was better than some I’d met in the past… and, he was very approving about me… and he looked pretty good in his shorts.


Eventually he came to his last pair of shorts; some ancient, faded, shiny red, swim shorts with a blue panel down either side. I pulled them on with great difficulty as they gripped my legs and waist tightly but didn’t appear to be quite as tight around my bum. I thought I looked pretty good in them and despite these being of slightly thicker material than the others found them quite horny to wear. Dave screwed up his nose as if he didn’t really like them that much and suggested I slip out of them as he had a much better idea. So, standing naked in front of him he grasped something from behind the sofa and unexpectedly produced his ‘much better idea’, a thick disposable nappy.


I shook my head but he was insistent that I at least try, explaining that the nappy had a shiny plastic backing that would look as good as any of the shiny shorts I’d tried on. I was naked and sceptical but it was obvious he wasn’t going to stop badgering me until I at least tried them on. He got me to lie out on the floor and slipped one end under my bum, quickly pulling it up through my legs and tightly taping me in it. I could tell from the beaming smile on his face that he thought I looked pretty good but, until I got to my feet, I wasn’t convinced.


However, the awkwardness between my legs was a surprise but when I looked in the dirty mirror that was propped up against one of the walls, I had to admit the shininess and bulk were quite pleasing on the eye. He had me walk around a bit to get used to the feel and then, as if by magic, produced a clear pair of plastic pants, which he insisted I put on. He offered to do it but now I was intrigued with this new addition and slipped them on myself, covering the disposable, although it was still clearly visible.



Dave also found them pretty horny, I could tell from the look on his face and the way he was constantly stroking my arse. Still spewing out compliments he disappeared for a few moments and returned with an aerosol can of whipped cream. He pulled at the waistband and filled the front of my nappy with a huge squirt of the foamy cream. I was stunned by this but needless to say, I was more and more fascinated as to where this was leading. Then he turned me around and proceeded to do the same again down the back. As he continued to squirt I felt the aerated substance get all squishy between my legs. Soon the inside of my nappy was full and so were the protecting plastic pants. After a brief inspection of his work, and without a word of warning, he sat down on the couch, grabbed my hands and pulled me down over his knee.


His hand smacked down hard on my upturned arse and cream shot out through the fabric; down the leg, up through the waistband and oozed through the tight fitting elastic holding the material. He seemed to love the mess he’d made as splattered cream dripped from his chest, the sofa, the walls and my body. He then continued to smack my bum… not hard enough to make me cry or anything but enough to know I was being smacked, and I felt the cream forcing its way up my crack and into my hole. I was shocked by this turn of events but he had one hell of a grip on my hands and though I struggled, it was half-heartedly and he knew he could make me do whatever he wanted. This went on for a couple of minutes and the cream was dribbling from my nappy and pants onto his very solid cock that was jutting out of his loose-fitting pale blue shorts.


He was really getting off on it and continued to spank my oozing bum only stopping occasionally to spray more frothy cream into my nappy before continuing his hard slaps. This was a complete departure from what I was expecting. Although sex was the main aim when we decided to meet, this particular side of things had never been mentioned and I was at a loss as what to do about it. Having said that, I’d had an orgasm fairly early on in the procedure so, from that point of view, we had done what was planned. I noticed, among the splatters and puddles of quickly liquidising cream all over the floor, he had also shot a load so it had been a success for him, if a little painful for me.


I shifted and he lifted himself away from my slicked-up body and I was able to get to the bathroom for a bit of release and clean up. The toilet was a mess. The bath didn’t look like it had been used for ages, the sink was grimy with a tap that dripped and the toilet itself was dirty and in dire need of some bleach. Still, as I struggled out of those now ripped, smelly, greasy plastic pants and I used a manky looking wash flannel to wipe away the excess clotting cream that daubed most of my lower body.


When I returned to the living room he asked me to lie out on the rug while he cleaned me up and dried me off with a towel, which I did. Once I’d been dried off he then produced a square of terry towelling and folded it into a big triangle. This he wrapped around my waist and pulled up between my legs and before I knew it I was wearing another, but much larger, nappy complete with a big blue safety pin holding the whole thing together. This I thought was now just totally weird and the cloth felt pretty rough against my skin but he said he loved to see a guy in a nappy… and begged me to wear it while we chatted over a cup of tea.


OK, OK, creepy though it was I had enjoyed most of what we’d done so far and thought there was no harm in giving him what he wanted for the few minutes before I left. Over tea we chatted about our respective towns, what we did and didn’t like about the current music scene, where we’d been on vacation etc etc and pretty soon I forgot all about the fact that I looked like a big baby sat in the armchair. In fact I had forgotten I was wearing the nappy all together except when he’d finished his tea and said that it was time for me to go.


I looked around for my T-shirt but couldn’t find it…. nor my shorts or jeans for that matter… and wondered what I’d done with them. I asked Dave where they were and, completely unconcerned, he said that he’d confiscated them… he always kept a souvenir from his visitors… that’s how he built up his collection. I was furious but in a way I understood about keeping a trophy… it was just something we collectors of shorts do.  Meanwhile, as I was still wearing my nappy and searching for my jeans he informed me that he wanted me to wear the nappy to go home in.


“No fucking way.” I said looking as hard as I possibly could but he just shrugged and renewed the compliments.


I was furious… but shouting, screaming and even threatening made not the slightest difference. He just kept on saying how fucking shaggable I looked in my nappy but I was now past the compliment stage and just wanted my jeans back. I was determined that this game should now come to an end and his suggestion… certainly wasn’t going to happen.


Alas, he was equally determined that it would and it slowly dawned on me that I was going to die of embarrassment once I left the tower block. This realisation I found upsetting and I began to cry, which only seemed to add fuel to his dressing me as a baby. He put his arm around my shoulder to comfort me but whispered that no matter how many tears I shed, I would be wearing the nappy. I pleaded with him but he was adamant that I’d enjoy the experience of travelling all that distance home dressed only in a nappy… he was only sorry that he didn’t have any plastic baby pants to finish off the look. As he packed up his own stuff he let me know that he only used the flat to bring tricks and shags back to… but added, in a sort of back-handed compliment, that I’d been the best so far. It didn’t make me feel any better and although I threatened to “… just stay in the flat and never leave” I knew, as he opened the door, it was an empty gesture on my part.


He grabbed my arm and, although I stubbornly refused to cooperate, he forcefully removed me from the room and I soon found myself on the other side of the door. As the door slammed shut behind me I knew I’d have to quickly come to terms with my situation and followed Dave to the lift, which thankfully was working. All the way down I begged for him to give me my clothes back, I was desperately hoping that this is what he’d do and all this was still a bit of fun, but I should have known, this wasn’t the case. At the main door he thanked me for a superb afternoon of ‘fun and entertainment’ and handed me my car keys, which in my panic I had completely forgotten about, and wished me a safe journey back to home.


As I unlocked the car door and climbed in I noticed a few people looking on and vaguely heard a few shouted comments though I couldn’t quite make out what was being yelled. As I drove through parts of the city and back to the motorway loads of people kept looking in my window, some scowled but most seemed to smile at me. I tried to keep my head down and not make eye contact with anyone but once on the motorway several lorry drivers who could look down on me from high up in their cabs blew their horns in acknowledgement.


I have to say that during the drive back home I had the hardest and longest lasting erection of my life and my little triangle of cloth was damp with pre-cum and constant eruptions. Even without touching myself I was on such a sexy high I just shot over and over again into my baby’s nappy. David was right… I did feel like I was the horniest guy in the world… yet I had no idea why I should have thought that way.


However, that strange and unique encounter did do something to me, and although I never heard from Dave again, he must have touched a nerve. For the past few years I have enjoyed spending time in my nappies. Strangely, they can make me feel the sexiest guy one minute and the cutest little toddler the next. My head is often confused as to which I want to be but when I wear them I can be what I want… when I want.



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