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Confession                                                                                             by Les Lea


I suppose this is a sort of confession.


I suppose it’s something I feel a little bit guilty about… although I’m not sure why.


It’s something I like to do, because it makes me feel good and… I suppose… makes me feel sexy… even though, to most people, that’s the last thing it would do.


OK. OK. I’m just going to say it out loud and then … well… it’s out there and you can mock or call me names as much as you like. Hell, over the years and in my confusion I’ve called myself all kinds of things but… it doesn’t stop me doing it.


Yes, alright… I’ll stop putting it off and just tell you. But don’t judge me. Well, I suppose you will but… I feel that… well… this is the place I should be able to talk about this… without too much… too many erm… well, problems.


I mean, we all have our little secrets... don’t we?


I’m sure some are worse than mine.


I bet some are really weird… yer... weird… but I promise I wont judge you.


So, be kind. I really need to get this off my chest even though I don’t know why and after all… isn’t the motto of this group… this forum… “If it feels good, do it”? A bit like the sportswear brand Nike “Just do it”.


OK. OK. Sorry, sorry… OK... I’m just waffling now. Here goes. I like to wear… erm… I find it comforting to wear… under my jeans, or suit, or in bed… a pair of… don’t be shocked… erm… a diaper and a pair of plastic pants.




Perhaps some of you want to know where my love of these items comes from. I’m sure everyone has their own starting point for this type of thing. The moment when ‘POW’ they realised that precise second when it all started. I remember reading about an older man who could tell you the moment, and the occasion, that he became obsessed with men.


As a kid he was watching a Tarzan programme on TV and he realised he was jealous of the boy Tarzan was looking after. Tarzan; all muscles and all but naked body in a loincloth had a young boy with him dressed pretty much the same… he desperately wanted to be that boy.


Since that TV programme he’d become obsessed about finding his own Tarzan character; big, strong, in charge but, as he said, it gets more and more difficult as you get older. He’s now middle-aged and, playing a little defenceless little boy in need of protection, is getting more and more difficult. Not that that is how I see myself. No. I don’t see myself as a little lad. Hell NO, what are you thinking? Although I can tell you when this obsession started and it was down to a little boy… my younger brother.




As kids we shared the same bed. Well, when he was old enough to sleep away from my parents he ended up sharing my bed. He was 3 at the time and I was 7. As a grown-up 7 year-old I didn’t really want to be sharing my bed with anyone, least of all my little brother who I wasn’t convinced was toilet trained. In fact he was very slow in getting to use the potty and mum kept him in training pants during the day, and at night she’d slip a pair of plastic pants over them for added protection. One night, when he was 4 years old, mum had said that he didn’t need the training pants anymore as he’d had dry nights for several months. Like me he slept in just his pajamas and yes, that night, he wet the bed.


Now, I was sleeping next to him and to be suddenly awakened by a wet patch took me by surprise and disgust and I literally kicked the little bugger out of the bed. He landed on the floor with a crash and banged his head on the bedside table, which caused a cut and he started crying.  I panicked as mum and dad came to my room to see what the commotion was all about. Mum picked up my little brother and stared daggers at me for hurting her little baby, while dad grabbed my arm and pulled me from the damp bed.


I tried to explain that he’d wet the bed and I hadn’t meant to hurt him but my dad did something he’d never done before. He put me over his knee and gave me a spanking. Never in all my 8 years had dad said so much as a harsh word to me let alone raised his hand, but over his knee he gave me such a hard hand spanking that my little cotton pajamas offered no protection and my bottom felt every fierce smack. By the end I was weeping more than my little brother, my bottom hurt and stung but my father told me to stand in the corner of the room with my hands on my head… I couldn’t even rub the pain away. As I stood there crying, and in shock, dad flipped the mattress and changed the bedding. He seemed to take ages and all I could do was sob in the corner with a stinging red bum and regretting ever having a pissy little brother.


When he’d finished he called me over to him. He was sat on the bed and I feared I was in for another spanking but I wasn’t. He pulled me into his warm manly chest and gave me a cuddle. He kissed my head and held me in a comforting way until my sobbing had quietened down then he spoke to me in his usual, soft and mild tones about… responsibility.


He told me about my responsibility to my brother… that when he or my mum were not around, I was in charge and I should be looking out for him; making sure he didn’t hurt himself or get into any trouble. He explained how he and my mum were relying on me to be a good brother, a thoughtful brother, a protecting brother… and all in all… I was made to feel I had let them down, but more importantly, I’d let myself down by this one act of nastiness. Dad hugged me and put me back into bed with a kiss and I slept on my front as my bum still smarted from the spanking. My little brother spent the night with mum and dad and, after thinking about my situation and what dad had said, I eventually managed to get some sleep.


The following day David, my little brother, had quite a bruise on his forehead together with a small scratch. I really did feel guilty so apologised to him before I went off to school though didn’t know what to expect when I got home. Sleeping arrangements were the same, I went to bed and David was there only this time he was back in his plastic pants. I cuddled him that night, I wanted him to know that I was his older brother who would protect him and not harm him, and he scooted up to lie against my chest as I wrapped my arms around him.  That was the moment… the ‘POW’ moment I was telling you about. The moment when I fell for a sensation and my life changed quite a bit.




My pajamas were very thin and so were David’s and I could feel the thickness of the diaper and plastic pants through the material. As he snuggled up closer the back of his pajamas came down and mine had also ridden up a bit so, some of my hip came into contact with his plastic pants. I liked the feeling. As he slept I pulled down his pajama bottoms and had him sleep tightly up against me and I just loved his hot little body, his thickly padded butt and his shiny plastic pants rubbing up against my naked skin. I’m sure he had no idea what was going on, and in all truth, neither did I, but I do know that we innocently slept that way for many months. I often wondered if he ever wondered why he always woke up with his pajama bottoms around his ankles but nothing was ever said.


We tried on several occasions to let David sleep without the protection and he’d go a couple of days dry before he’d have another accident and mum would put him back into the protective padding. This frustrated little David a lot and visits to the doctor and several help-features later, we still couldn’t stop him from his involuntary pissing. He seemed to stay dry when he was in all his protection but as soon as we let him out of it, he peed the bed. He was getting one angry little chap.


He hated being like he was and, because he was still in his diaper or training pants, I think he was getting a ribbing from his friends at pre-school. Even at that age kids can be so cruel but he’d refused to wear those trainer or plastic pants to bed and started to wet even more regularly. No one at his school wore them, he argued in his boyish petulance, so why should he? He was determined that he wasn’t going to wear those ‘baby’ pants any more. We sympathised but every morning we’d both wake up to a soaked bed.


The rubber sheet we both now slept on helped a bit but he still flowed almost every night. Mum would be very forceful with him and dress him for bed, making sure his night time diaper and plastic pants were in place but as soon as she left the bedroom he’d angrily remove them and chuck them in the corner. When I came to bed a little later I’d see them and, thinking about what dad had said about being responsible and David’s protector, would pick them up and try to put them back on his sleeping little body. However, one night, instead of re-dressing David, I struggled to get into them myself. They were very tight and clung to me like another skin. It was incredible… I loved the feel. I loved the way the bulkiness made me... I suppose… excited… as I’d gently stroke the soft malleable plastic material against my body. I didn’t realise it was sexual - all I knew was that I liked the feeling it gave me. This was even better than rubbing up against my little brother and I had no idea why it had taken me so long to undertake this most obvious of steps.  




The following morning we woke to another wet bed, I had forgotten the fact that I was wearing David’s diaper and plastic pants and so when mum came in, she saw me in them. At first she looked a bit surprised and then just nodded to me. At breakfast I was worried about what mum would say to dad but I was amazed. Mum said that I had hit upon a fantastic idea. She had read that a sibling, which I gathered was me, might set a better example than anyone else if I wore the same as my brother. At the time I didn’t quite get what she meant but I was just so happy that she had not said anything embarrassing to dad and that I was being held up for some praise.


That night, when mum took David up to bed, she asked me to go with her. I was watching TV but with a smile and an encouraging nod from dad, I made my way upstairs. David was once again riling against putting on his night time padded protection but mum asked him - what if I wore the same as him, would he then wear them? She told him that he was not a little boy, and that we all knew it wasn’t his fault. I was shocked… somewhere in all this I suddenly realised what I was being asked to do.


Even as an 8 year-old I thought, what I did in the privacy of my own bed and liked, was not necessarily what I wanted to be taken as the natural course of things. After all, I was a lot older than David; I was grown up for heaven’s sake. I hadn’t worn a diaper since I was 2. I was just about to voice these concerns when she told David that it was all my idea and that both she and dad were proud that I loved my little brother so much I was prepared to do this for him. She said that I was the best brother in the world and David should know just how much his older brother was trying to help him with his slight problem. She produced a new, slightly larger diaper like David’s and a pair of plastic pants and asked me to put them on. So, caught off guard by this turn of events and knowing I had no way out of it, I stripped off in front of mum and David and let her fasten me into them and the new, slightly larger and more rubbery pair of plastic pants, before pulling my pajamas over it all. I felt huge… if well protected.


Seeing me like this David didn’t even try and argue, he let my mum dress him the same and with no more fuss kissed him a more relaxed goodnight. I was on my way back downstairs to watch TV and … well I don’t know what… possibly to try and talk myself out of the situation… when David called me back and asked me to come to bed with him there and then. I was about to argue but mum said what a good idea it was and I knew I was beaten. Even dad came into the room and kissed us both goodnight, he gave me a huge hug and said “Thanks” and at that moment I knew things would never be the same.

I went through this nightly ritual for as long as I shared a bed with David, a further two years. Some times he’d go forever without getting wet as long as he had his protection on. When we tried to take him out of them he inevitably wet the bed. However, I had grown used to my nocturnal mode of dress and told mum I didn’t mind sleeping that way if it helped. I was happy and I suppose enjoying my first ‘fetish’, although at the time I had no idea that such a word existed but I suppose, even at that age, I knew it was nothing to shout about as I hadn’t told anyone how much I liked wearing all that stuff.




Eventually, dad got a new job and we moved. In the new house we had a room each and in many ways I was sad to lose the comfort of my younger brother sleeping next to me, though at the time I think I was really made up about having so much space to myself. The strange thing was… David stopped wetting himself. Now he had his own room he just grew in confidence and his wetting stopped. Not gradually, but overnight… he pulled off his protection on that first night in his new single bed and never put them back on. Things changed for me as well. I had more privacy but mum, had stopped buying plastic pants and stuff to fit me, because she was able to stop buying those things altogether. However, I kept my diapers and plastic pants and occasionally I would just pull on those very tight fitting stretched slippery pants and wear them in bed.



I’m not clever or academic so I didn’t go to college but found a job locally just a week after my 18th birthday. On my first pay day I went out to the drugstore and quite openly bought a couple of new pairs of plastic pants and adult diapers and have been doing so, on and off, ever since. I’m 20 now and still live at home with mum, dad and my brother and it’s great, I have as much freedom as I need. I’m not sure if mum knows what I do. I don’t leave ‘evidence’ around the house but I did once notice that the draw I kept them in had been opened. I assumed it was mum putting away my ironed clothes but I never asked and she never said if this was the case. So, everything is fine. I wear my diapers and plastic pants for comfort, for memories and, well, because I like to. My job doesn’t pay a fortune so I’m not able to wear them 24/7 but at night, when I’m feeling that way out, there is simply nothing better than getting well-padded; slip on my diaper, some soft plastic pants and drift off to an amazingly comfortable sleep. I think I must have been in denial in the beginning because in truth, I do feel like a little boy in need of protection when I wear them. I have a footed onesie (a Christmas present from my parents would you believe), a bottle and a pacifier (which I bought myself) for when I feel the need and I just love to regress, even for a little while, back to when I shared the bed with my little brother. I dream of those times regularly and I always wake up happy and relaxed, even if I happen to have wet myself in the night, which, unintentionally, I occasionally do.


I adore my thick protection. I enjoy the sensation of my plastic pants. I enjoy my bed being dry even when I’m not. Perhaps, in the future, I’ll get a daddy who wants to join me on these adventures, maybe even coming up with a few ideas of his own. Until then, I love my occasional ‘little’ life.




Part 2


My ‘little life’ was not going quite as planned. Other thoughts and desires were entering my head and although I’d kept them buried deep down for as long as possible, things were beginning to build up. It was a hot, late September day when it all happened. I was walking in the park, I’d just been ‘relieved’ of my position at the call centre (for telling a particularly annoying caller to go f**k herself) and though I was glad to be rid of that hive they called an office, I was now without any work. Therefore, although I might have been elated to begin with, the truth of my circumstances soon dawned and I began to feel a bit vulnerable about my future employment prospects because the jobs market was at an all-time low. As there was nothing I could do about it at that moment, I decided to enjoy what could have been the last sunny day of summer, by taking in the enjoyable weather and having a relaxing sunbathe in the park.


It was fairly busy. Loads of people seemed to have thought the same and the grassy slopes were an array of people lying out, eating lunch, reading or chatting with friends. Set further back there were some trees where the numbers of sun-worshippers appeared less, I suppose the shade not helping with a late tan. However, as I searched for a bit of space I noticed one guy lying stretched out in the grass, with his head resting on a pile of rags and wearing nothing but what looked like a grubby, cream colored diaper cover.  Don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t filthy dirty and covered in piss stains and such, no, to my eye, it was obviously old and had been worn for quite some time and even though the crotch held a reasonably sized bulge, the actual leg holes were loose and a bit frayed. The man looked to be in his late 40s early 50s, receding grey/ginger hair on his head but a fair amount on the rest of his body. He was slim and to me seemed in pretty good nick for his age. I may be 21 but I know what I like (I told you other thoughts and desires were now occupying my head) and the overall package that this man presented was definitely worth taking another look. I settled down just a few feet away from him so I could watch him snoozing under the tree and, if I’m being honest, to see if I could catch a glimpse of the man’s cock up the leg of his unconventional underwear.




I’d been watching him dozing for a few minutes when he woke up; propped himself up on his elbows and just gazed at me with a quizzical look on his face. I didn’t need the sun because I felt myself turning beetroot red with embarrassment as I stared back at him.

“Hi.” Was all I could muster in way of conversation and even then, much to my shame, I immediately stared back at his crotch and saw a little ripple of movement under the cotton fabric.


“Hi,” he replied, “… enjoying the… weather?” With the emphasis on ‘weather’, I knew that wasn’t actually what he was really asking. I felt a bit emboldened by the fact that he was talking to me so I carried on.


“Yes, I’ve had such a crappy day… that the… er… weather… and the… erm… sights,” and I looked back briefly at his underwear, which again gave a little pulse, “have lifted my spirits a bit.” I paused for a moment before adding, “Thank you.”


He smiled and we got into conversation. I told him about the job or lack of it now. My annoyance at stupid people who would phone up with the most ridiculous questions or complaints and how heartily sick I was of being nice to folk who didn’t deserve to own a phone. Yes, I’m afraid Tony (he had introduced himself by then) got all my simmering resentment and listened to me berate a world for no other reason than I was in a bad mood. He took it well. Even occasionally saying something positive in my rage and making me feel good again.  The more he listened, the more I liked him. He seemed genuine and supportive and, more importantly, didn’t seem to worry that I spent most of my time raging against the world while looking at his crotch. His package had filled out the front of his underwear quite a bit since we’d started our conversation but his dick, much to my disappointment, had not shown itself down the leg hole.




Once I’d calmed down a little from my tirade he suggested that what I needed was a drink. I agreed but told him as money was going to be in short supply from now on I’d better pass. He shook his head and said that he’d get them if I wanted one and, at that moment, a cold beer was just what I needed. He stood up, and surprisingly, looked even better once erect, his diaper cover, I could now tell, actually did cover a thin disposable diaper, which I noticed when the top suddenly revealed itself. The whole thing was hanging tightly onto his hips but loose around the leg so that the bulge was still impressively present. The bunch of rags he’d been resting his head on turned out to be a really tatty blue t-shirt and some very well worn, baggy camo shorts. He slipped them on quickly and the shorts hung on his hips exposing a good deal of his diaper waistband, which despite his age, made him look hot. I followed him as we walked for about 10 minutes. We’d passed a couple of bars but I thought he might have a favorite that he wanted to go to. Shortly we arrived at a door between two stores, a grocery on one side and a baby’s clothes shop on the other, he unlocked it and I followed him inside, up a flight of stairs and into a very nice living room.


“Make yourself at home,” he said throwing his keys into a ceramic dish by the door, “I’ll get us a drink.”


The room was not what I expected, not that I had expected to be taken to his home, but, on just meeting the scruffy man I would not  have thought his taste in furniture and art (yes artwork was all over the place) would be like this… it just didn’t seem to fit.


After the walk in the heat to his place I was sweating like the proverbial pig and when he returned with a cold bottle of Bud for me he was back to wearing just his underwear.


“You look hot.” He left the word ‘hot’ hanging in that air for me to take whichever way I wanted and I noticed that the look in his eye was of more than just a passing interest. “Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable if you take off some of your clothes?”


The question… slash… suggestion was just daring me for a response. So, as I removed my jacket he said that as I’d been looking at him in his pants all day, maybe I should let him view mine. I loved his cheeky, flirty way and thought… why not… I felt I needed a bit of a diversion from worrying about work.


I took a sip from the cold bottle of beer then began to strip. He watched as I slid out of my work clothes and soon appeared before him dressed, like him, in just my briefs… white Hanes if you want to know. I was delighted to see the front of his pants throb and tent out his own battered undies. I jokingly gave him a twirl and he just smiled and grabbed his cock. I think he was trying to control it in some way but now it was peaking and growing down the leg hole.


“Looks like someone’s pleased to see you,” he smiled.




Things were happening fast, and as I took another slug from my bottle, he removed his pants and was standing in just a thin disposable. It actually fitted him quite tightly; it was the cover that had been sagging so now he looked even hotter.


“Hope you don’t mind,” he said as I took in the revelation, “but it’s one of the many things I like to wear.”


He was obviously waiting for some kind of response so I walked up and began to stroke the lightly padded material. I’m not sure what he expected my reaction to be but he was clearly enjoying my appreciation of his diaper.


“So, this doesn’t freak you out?”  He said between moans of pleasure.


“No.” I carried on gently moving my hands around and behind his soft, rather silky, tight diaper. “I have some of my own… and plastic pants.”


“Wow… what are the chances…” He pulled down my briefs and I stood naked in front of him. “Mmmm… I think we should put you in something … different.”


He opened a draw and pulled out a huge square of material. “Lie down on the floor… let’s get you properly dressed.”




I was hard as nails but that didn’t seem to concern him as he quickly pinned me into a huge diaper. Compared to him in his tight fitting disposable I looked like a big baby in my bulging cloth protection, whereas he looked like a slim athlete. He wasn’t finished. From another draw he produced a huge pair of multi-colored plastic pants with a teddy bear motif all over them and slipped them over it all. The transformation from office boy to baby boy couldn’t have been performed any quicker and, as I caught sight of myself in many of the reflecting surfaces, I was suddenly catapulted back to those happy days of me and my little brother. I really was incredibly happy by this weird chance encounter and the way it had weirdly turned out. Perhaps my luck was changing.


My rampant cock had been more or less silenced by the bulk of what I was wearing. Access to it wasn’t easy and Tony’s focus was on how fantastic I looked; admiring my slim body, fondling, stroking and generally touching my ‘new look’. He was all praise. That took me back to the time that dad and mom had praised me for coming up with the idea of wearing the same as my little brother to help stop him wetting the bed. Shows how much I craved praise as I suddenly wanted to please this stranger as much as possible.




He took out his phone and filmed me walking (well waddling actually) and crawling around the room. He was enjoying the spectacle and I was enjoying being back to a stage that I had really loved, a little kid with no responsibilities. If the grown up wanted to take photos of me then that’s what he’d do… I had no say in the matter. I had so readily given myself over to having a ‘daddy’ who would make all those kind of decisions and all I had to do was be cute.


He took me to his bedroom and had me lay out on his bed. There he stripped me down and he looked me in the eye.


“You look terrific in a diaper” Then he asked quietly but seriously. “Would you mind if we took it a bit further?”




I wasn’t sure what he had in mind but I loved all this attention so willingly nodded.


“OK… but next time, say please.”


“Mmmm please.” I echoed.


“Good… but now as a toddler might say it.”


I thought for a second and even though I was lying naked on his bed, my dick was hard and my head was full of wonderful thoughts I said “Pwwweeease.”


He smiled and asked “Who’s a good boy?” as he headed off into the bathroom.


Minutes later he arrived back with a bowl of hot water, shaving brush, foam and a cut-throat razor. He produced a pair of scissors and began to cut my pubes and in truth I can’t pretend I wasn’t getting a little anxious at that moment. He saw that worried look on my face and went to another draw and pulled out a pacifier, which he slipped into my mouth.


As I sucked I began to relax and the foam covered shaving brush felt really nice as he painted my groin ready for the final act. I was so relaxed that even the sight of a very sharp cut-throat razor didn’t alarm me and pretty soon all the hair on that particular part of my body was gone. He flipped me over and did the same to my bum. That brush being worked in was driving me nuts and I could feel myself riding the mattress aiming for release. That wasn’t going to happen as he told me to stop moving as he applied the razor to my cheeks. I was well aware that one false move and there could be blood everywhere. I stopped my wriggling and let him concentrate on removing any last remnants of my meagrely hirsute body.




Once this part of the operation was over he lathered me in baby oil and I couldn’t believe what a difference to my look being without pubes would make. Once he was sure he’d added enough oil to prevent razor burns, he applied tons of baby powder. It was like a cloud hanging in the bedroom as we laughed and joked as he sprayed and rubbed it all over my recently shaved body. Even though I now looked like a little pre-pubescent toddler, my cock was aggressively pointing right at him but he just ignored it. From a draw under his bed he pulled out another piece of cloth, it was a square of terry towelling, which he shaped into a diaper and tightly fastened me in. My dick, now pressed firmly against my body was of little consequence as he retrieved the plastic pants from earlier and slipped them over it all.


“God… you look so damn good.” He declared as he stroked my diaper and smiled with admiration. “You… are just… ideal.”


He was pleased and his touch was both tender and erotic. He went to the kitchen and returned with another bottle, although this time it was a baby’s bottle full of milk. He removed the paci that I’d been unashamedly sucking on since he’d popped it between my lips and I couldn’t help but be thankful to the man spending so much time with me. After the morning I’d had, it was nice to know I was wanted, even though I wasn’t too sure what I was wanted for. There was no hint that he wanted sex, in fact, he seemed to be avoiding that even though I’d given every hint that I wouldn’t mind… should he have designs that way. However, he sat down, pulled me into his lap (he was still just wearing his tight-fitting disposable) and started feeding me the milk. It had been a while since I’d been fed that way and it took a couple of goes to get the rhythm right. Once I’d got the hang of it the warm fluid was wonderful; the warm embrace of my ‘daddy’ was fantastic, the comfort of my diaper was brilliant and as he gently rocked as I fed, my eyes slowly closed and I felt myself drifting off to sleep.





Part 3


I was ‘softly dozing’. I can’t put it any other way – I was at that point between sleep and being awake but it felt, well it felt, peaceful. I was aware of what was going on. I was still sucking, I was still being gently rocked and I was conscious of the fact that I was being cuddled, wearing a diaper, on a strangers lap, yet none of that seemed to matter. My wellbeing floated through my body as sweetly as the milk slipped down my throat – all nice and warming. As I ‘softly dozed’ I wondered more about Tony and the ease in which he’d taken control and I’d acquiesced without so much as a seconds thought. I think, in possibly any other circumstances, I would have run a mile from an old man in a diaper but there I was, unbelievably happy and with that man cooing softly, stroking my naked leg and making me feel I was in the safest place in the world.


As I’ve gotten older myself, and the fact that I still live in my parent’s home, opportunities to regress were getting fewer and fewer. It wasn’t that mom and dad were always on the lookout for some quirk or abnormality I may have, but now that my younger brother David had gone off to university, I was the object of their parental attention. Despite the fact that I never felt under pressure from them to ‘change my ways’, I had, in my own way, been trying to wean myself off my love of diapers. I’d more or less stopped wearing them to work (thus the Hanes I’d been wearing) and it was rare for me to even sleep in a diaper, even though I found it very comforting, especially if I’d been stressed at work. So, this feeling I was experiencing in the arms of Tony, was soothing, joyful and intense.




Inevitably the milk ran out and, as I was softly sucking in air, real life returned and invaded my brain. It was nice being where I was but I had to face reality; I was without a job and my prospects of gaining another were very poor. I looked sleepily into Tony’s eyes and whispered my thanks and made to rouse myself to go home and set about searching the net for jobs as soon as I could.


He let me rise and patted my padded bottom and again praised the way I looked. I smiled sweetly and wished that that was enough to get me a new job, his reply was he was sure it would. As I searched around for my suit and tie and all the other stuff that meant I was a ‘responsible’ working man, I really didn’t want to take off what I had on. Those few hours that Tony had granted me were just about the best I’d experienced for quite some time and I was in no hurry to lose that feeling.


Whilst I’d been gathering my clothes together he’d been on his cell and was talking to someone. He saw me about to remove the plastic pants but asked me to halt doing anything else until he’d finished his call. I stood in his living room all-but-naked and waited for him to tell me what was going on. When he returned he said he had some news which he hoped I’d be open to.




“Do you have any qualms about what type of work you do?” He queried as he came back in to the main living room.


“Not really.” I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m not particularly bright, my brother David got my brains,” I added with another shrug and knowing full well that academia hadn’t failed me, I’d failed it. “So apart from tutoring Stephen Hawking… I’m up for anything.”


He laughed at my silly joke. “Well, the news is, I’ve found you a job.” I raised my eyebrows as he went on. “What about a little bit of modelling?”


“Yep. I can walk and I can wear clothes so…” I shrugged again. “Oh, unless you mean building something…” but this time he shook his head and said that it would be photographic modelling.


He explained that the shop downstairs, which sold baby clothes, was run by his sister and that she didn’t only make baby clothes… well she did… but she also made them for adult babies. He was full of praise for her talents and how she’d built up her business, on her own and from scratch, to being quite a successful enterprise. She now employed three women full time who made all the original clothes, both for babies and adults, she sold in her shop. However, and this was where I came in, she was about to put her new line of ABDL stuff online and on his suggestion, he’d convinced her to use a real model rather than have her items ‘lifeless’ on a dummy. He’d already sent a clip of me crawling around in the diaper he’d filmed earlier and she thought I would be ideal. His suggestion was that I – “Live out some of my fantasies and get paid for it”.




I had my doubts. To actually be seen wearing baby stuff, well that was different than slipping something on before bedtime… wasn’t it? Tony agreed that it would be a brave thing to do but asked if I was ashamed of it all. I wasn’t sure how to answer because in some ways I was and in others I didn’t care what anyone else thought. As we talked things got clearer in my mind. Whether he convinced me or I had convinced myself I didn’t know but I agreed, thinking that really, I was without a job, chances of finding a job were slim and I’d be foolish to turn down any opportunity. I wondered if I could do the shoot wearing a mask. Tony said that some of the items did have masks as part of the design but he would suggest that if I wore a mask the entire shoot, it would look like I was very ashamed of what I was doing, and that wasn’t the image the AB shop wanted to promote. And besides he added, “Babies are never ashamed, there job is to look cute and be themselves.”


His sister, Mary, was on her way up to chat about what was expected and what I’d be asked to wear. As we waited I asked him about the art that was surrounding us. He explained that he loved to encourage new artists, as he’d encouraged his talented sister, and was never happier than when he discovered a new talent, especially if they created something he actually liked. He said that sometimes he’d buy an object just to help the artist out, even if it was awful. He laughed that on those occasions his friends were very surprised with the gift they received for birthdays or Christmas and didn’t know whether to complain or be ecstatic. He always told them to keep it for a few years, as the value would increase. This promise, he told me, always seemed to work.


Mary arrived with a bunch of stuff and asked me to try some of it on so she could make alterations should they be needed. She told me to keep the diaper on as I would be wearing something similar for most of the shoot and helped me in and out of a myriad of outfits. Onesies, shorty pajamas, plastic, rubber, satin diapers and covers, coveralls, sailors suits, romper pants… there were loads and loads of items that, to be honest, got me more and more excited about the shoot. Mary was enthusiastic and said that her daughter Maddy would also be joining me for a few of the photos where we were to be seen playing together. I couldn’t wait.




We were still trying items on and checking stuff when I realised it was past the time I’m normally home. As the shoot was scheduled to start early the next morning Tony offered me a bed for the night, which I eagerly accepted.  In my mind I had a fantasy of us going at it like rabbits, although so far, no real moves had been made by him. I called mom to tell her that I’d lost my job but that I was on the trail of another and that I planned on staying at a friend’s overnight as we were going out for a consoling piss up. She sympathised about my lost my job but warned me off getting too drunk and getting into trouble. This supportive style of mom’s always put me at ease so I assured her I wouldn’t. I don’t like lying to my family but I thought that the truth wasn’t an option, certainly at that moment, so I fudged the issue and hoped that it would all work out fine.


As I tried on each unique piece of clothing I could only agree with Tony that Mary was a very talented woman. With each outfit I was mesmerised at the detail and workmanship, which she graciously credited to her small but talented workforce. There was no denying that once her designs hit the net, her clothing was going to be in huge demand. The problem I had was that I couldn’t wait to get started and each ensemble made me feel happily childish… but with a boner. I was very excited. However, the thick diaper I was wearing probably hid that particular fact from anyone else.




Suddenly, it all became too much to bear. Mary had just removed my plastic pants and had slid a pair of blue satin panties back up to replace them. The silky soft feel caressed my legs and I could feel my dick straining inside the confines of my thick diaper. She then pulled a matching top over my head and the sensuously soft material, rippling down my naked skin had a similar effect… and I erupted. All the sensations seemed to conspire together and left me inwardly moaning and, without so much as a helping caress, my pulsating dick did what it had been waiting to do all day. At the moment of orgasm I closed my eyes and tried to stifle the scream of ecstasy that I’d felt building as each item of clothing had been slipped into place. In my head I’d been able to hide what was happening very well but when I opened my eyes, Mary and Tony both had huge grins on their faces.


Mary was the first to comment. “I hope my clothes have the same effect on the customers,” she laughed, “I take that as a glowing and unsolicited testimonial.”


“I wish I’d had the camera for that…” Tony glowed with humor and pride, “now that would have been something to put online.”


“I’m so sorry.” I stammered. “But these clothes are… well… a real turn on. I couldn’t help myself. I am really ashamed.”


“Don’t be.” They both chimed in together as I hoped the ground would open up and swallow me. “It really is the best kind of endorsement we can have. The girls will be thrilled when I tell them.” Mary said as she straightened the sailor inspired, blue satin romper-suit in position.


Guiltily I looked up at the thought that others would soon be sharing my shame but both were adamant that it was all good. Afterward, as I tried on even more of her fabulous designs, their reassurances were helpful and positive.




Once Mary had finished with all the alterations, measurements and had discussed the shoot with Tony (he would be the photographer) she left with arms full of items to be prepared for the following day. I was left wearing just my thick, now damp, diaper and Tony had, during the many costume changes, traded up into a pop-studded pink rubber diaper cover that hugged him very tightly. He was very pleased with the way things had gone and was enthusing about what he was going to do regarding scenarios at the photo studio. It was hard not to feel as motivated as he was and we were both excited at the prospect of what we were about to do.


Remembering that I’d messed my diaper (and in truth a bit later I had also wet myself) Tony suggested that he should change me. We went to his bedroom and I happily let him take charge. He unpinned and removed my soggy diaper. His eyebrows rose as he noticed the amount that I’d deposited in the thing and smiled when he commented that I really had been excited. He wiped me down, oiled and powdered me and went to retrieve a diaper from a huge stack of disposables but, as he did so, the door opened and in walked a mountain of a man.





Part 4


I froze and was about to leap to my feet when Tony pushed me back down onto the bed and continued to diaper me. All my clothes were in the other room and I panicked thinking we were about to be robbed by a burglar. The man mountain stood in the bedroom doorway wearing dirty shorts, a t-shirts, thick boots and a leather utility belt around his waist.


He was smiling; “Hi daddy.” Tony nodded acknowledgement. “I can see you’re busy. I don’t want to interrupt anything” he turned to go.


“Come in and meet Daniel.” His rapid fingers never stopped as he quickly had the diaper fastened tightly in place and he introduced me to Michael his son.


Being all but naked I felt a bit embarrassed as I just nodded and Tony pulled a pair of yellow plastic pants from the draw under the bed. Michael came over, kissed his father, and ruffled my hair in greeting. He looked a few years older than me, had red hair like I assumed his dad had before he started losing it and looked like he’d come straight from a building sight, which was just what he had done. After a few seconds this twenty-something dirty but healthy looking hunk began to undress and was down to his black sweaty briefs in moments. He stood watching whilst his father fastened the pop-studs on my new plastic pants into place. I was mesmerised by this new vision, Michael was a hunk of a man and, with him just wearing his briefs, had a similar effect on me as did the satin sailor-suit. I nearly lost it when, once I was completely installed in my clean protection, Michael looked at me and smiled, “Daddy always does a good job… you look fantastic.” He was as encouraging as his father and looked stunning, all dust covered, grimy and wearing just his black, sweaty CKs. “I’d better get a shower.”





As this hunk of masculinity disappeared into the bathroom I gave Tony a sort of look which I hope said “tell me more”. I was nervous of asking outright as I didn’t want to appear nosey but he was a fine looking guy and of course, Tony hadn’t mentioned he lived with anyone else. Meanwhile, my host had gone to the closet and pulled out a couple of much larger disposables and retrieved a small bag that Mary had left. He spread the diapers out on the bed and busied himself getting the baby oil and powder ready. I was intrigued and wondered what was going to happen. Shortly after a clean, pink (it must have been a very hot shower) and naked Michael returned drying himself off.


“Let daddy do that…” Tony said as he took the thick towel from his son’s hand and proceeded to dry his boy thoroughly.


It was only then that I picked up on the fact that he was ‘daddy’ and not ‘dad’. For some reason I didn’t think a guy the age and size of Michael would still be calling his father ‘daddy’… it just didn’t seem to fit. However, it all became clear when Michael lay out on the bed and his daddy applied the oil and powder to a pube-free groin then lovingly fastened him into the diapers. There was a glowing smile on Tony’s face throughout the procedure and Michael appeared to be very happy with what was happening. Finally, Tony opened the bag from Mary and took out a new pair of rubber pants.


“Auntie has made these especially for you…” and he slipped them up his sons immense thighs.


Pulling them over the thickness of two disposables the gaily patterned rubber cover looked massive… and it has to be said… sweet. Tony appeared as happy as his son with the result.



Once Michael was all done up in his protection Tony disappeared to do other things while we were left to talk.  To begin with, the conversation was about Michael’s day at work – he was the foreman on a building site that was being developed. Then he was interested in how I met his daddy so I repeated my story of job loss and my shameful ogling at this stranger in the park. He thought that was very funny but had to agree that his daddy sure was one hot guy. He pointed to my diaper and asked how long had I been into it. I told him about my little brother and how it all began, which he found very interesting and he appeared genuinely sad when I explained why I didn’t do my ‘little side’ as much as I used to.


It was really nice to sit and chat to someone my own age (nearly), dressed in diaper and plastic pants. Although physically we were completely different; me being 5’6” and a little over 100 pounds, and him being 24, six feet and solid muscle, we had a great deal in common. As we chatted we stroked each other’s diapers and protecting covers, we both loved the sexy lustre, the sensuous feel and the sense of comfort and safety that it all offered. He was about to tell me how it all began for him when Tony called us through for a meal. We’d been sat on the bed for the entire conversation and just before we moved off to eat Michael leaned in close and without warning kissed me gently on the cheek. My cock, which had been throbbing since the two of us had been sitting so close together, suddenly shot an uncontrollable load into my diaper as he whispered “Welcome to the family.”



Tony was standing at the range cooking and looked unbelievably sexy, the light in the kitchen somehow picking up the lustrous quality of his pink plastic pants. They held him tightly but there was a small bulge around his bottom where his padding was pleasantly emphasised. Michael’s bottom was well-padded and he waddled toward the table, while I felt tight, but well protected, in my diaper. Neither of us wore anything else until the meal was served up – I was dreading it being jars of mushed baby food but thankfully it was grown up cuisine – then Tony offered us something else that Mary had made for him, a selection of plastic bibs.


Each one contained an image of a cartoon character, mine was SpongeBob, Michael’s was from Disney’s Cars and Tony’s, who told us that this was going to be part of a new range that Auntie (from this point on Mary was always referred to as Auntie) was promoting online, was of  Winnie The Pooh. Using the Velcro fasteners and feeling incredibly silly, we put them on and set about the meal. I was famished. I also have to say that even in their childish bibs and diapers both father and son were fantastic specimens of manhood and I craved what these two had. It’s true, I did begin to realise that there was something ‘different’ about their relationship, and as we tucked into the very tasty pasta dish Tony had prepared, Michael explained what had happened.




Despite the fact that when I first saw Michael I’d been scared of his size and bearing, I now liked this incredibly gentle hulk.  Anywhere else I would have been greatly intimidated by such a self-confident figure, but, as he explained, he wasn’t always that way. They were father and son in name only, not in any biological sense. Michael was Tony’s ‘boy’ and had been for just over 10 years since Tony had discovered a frightened 14 year-old huddled in the cold. The young Michael had been thrown out of his home for confessing to his parents that he was gay and, with nowhere to go, had sat forlornly shivering and scared not knowing what to do next. He explained very proudly what a saviour Tony had been to him and hated to think what would have happened if this particular kind stranger hadn’t offered a helping hand.


As I listened to his story I couldn’t help but to ask if he hadn’t been suspicious of Tony’s intentions… Michael smiled at the man who was clearly still a hero in his eyes and said “Oh yes.” He went on to explain that being a trembling terrified kid all he wanted at that particular moment was something to eat and a place to get warm. On hearing the boy’s story Tony had offered to talk with his parents, take him to a friendly relation or accompany him to the police. Michael wasn’t keen on any of these courses of action and thought the police would only return him to his parents or send him to some institution… so his options were few and none of them appealed any more than going with this nice man who at least had offered to help.


The upshot was, on the insistence that he still attended school, he could stay with Tony and if anyone asked he was to say that his parents were having problems so he was staying with a relation for a while. Again my nosiness continued.


“Did he… erm… did he you know… make you…” I suddenly got cold feet about my question.


“Did we have sex… that’s what you want to know isn’t it?” Michael interrupted my pathetic probing.




“No.” He said emphatically. “Sex has never been a huge part of our relationship... and certainly not at that age… although it is a part now… but we have so much more…”




The conversation continued and I was amazed at just how brave (and selfless) Tony had been by taking on such a young lad. Both dealt with my questions with humor, shyness and perhaps an outdated concept… love. I was slightly embarrassed about my intrusion so changed and lightened the subject to ask. “How about the diapers?”


Tony had sat all but silent throughout my interrogation but their hands had touched and I could see the bond between them had not diminished over the time they’d been together.


“Well that was… a bit weird.” Michael had brightened up a bit to tell this part of the tale.


“One afternoon I arrived home from school and there at the kitchen counter was Tony dressed in nothing but a diaper.” He smiled at the thought. “I wondered if something had happened… or that he was having a joke… he was always joking with me… when he said it was something he liked to do.”


“One of my many… many… many little quirks,” Tony confessed.


“When I asked him why,” Michael continued, “he said he found it very comforting. It reminded him of a time when all was gentle, soft and loving… and he occasionally liked to relive those moments.”


“Ah… happy days,” Tony said in mock wistfulness.


“He’s taken it to new levels now… with Auntie and him and the ABDL crowd… but… despite my initial horror at the thought, within a couple of days… I wanted to give it a go myself.” They touched hands again. “So, one night, after a lovely relaxing hot bath I asked him if I could… you know… try it.”


“I told him I’d be happy to but, he was under no obligation to spend any time dressed in a diaper if he didn’t want,” chipped in Tony. “I wanted him to enjoy the sensation but, if he didn’t get it, then that would be an end to it all.”




“I wasn’t sure how to put the damn thing on so I asked Tony if he would do the honors. He had me lay out on the bed, powdered that area and folded a piece of cloth into a triangle.”


“It was a piece of thick terry cloth… he looked both terrified and intrigued,” Tony added “but I pulled it up between his spread legs and pinned it tightly into place. Then pulled him to his feet and asked him how it felt.”


Michael took over again. “It was weird… yet after a few faltering and waddling moments… I got it… I actually did love the feeling of being caressed by this enormous diaper and, as we watched TV together, I fell asleep still wearing it.”


“Eventually I carried him still dozing back to his bed, tucked him in, kissed him goodnight and didn’t hear from him again until the morning.”


“It was a great night’s sleep. After that, I wore them for bed on more occasions and before I knew it, I was changing out of my school clothes the moment I got home and insisted that I be put into a diaper.”


“This was like… a month after he came to live with me and, I have to say, he had never seemed happier.” Tony added.


“I just loved it… and when we started adding plastic pants and colourful covers, I became even happier, it was like I’d found something, something special for daddy and me…”


I picked up on the word again, “So was that when you started calling him ‘daddy’?”


“Yes… I suppose it was. I wanted to give the man who had literally saved me something back. I had nothing other than my love to give him but I thought calling him ‘daddy’, especially when I was in my protection… was my… that was… erm… recognising his… erm… influence on my life.” Michael may have been a muscular hunk now but he spoke in shy admiration about the man in his life.


They looked across at each other again and that ‘childish’ term, accentuated by the colourful cartoon bibs, seemed to have a very strong bond between them. Ten years on and Michael would do anything for his ‘daddy’ and of course, Tony would do anything for his ‘son’… and they both appeared to have developed their ABDL side as I was soon to find out.



Part 5


Once I was over my slight nervousness about asking questions the conversation turned into an open, funny and frank discussion. Don’t get me wrong, I was fascinated by their relationship but, as we talked, they helped me discover more about myself. For instance:


Why had I lost my job?

Because I was frustrated and angry.

Why was I frustrated and angry?

Because I didn’t like my job.

But why now? (I had told them that I liked working in the Call Center… I actually quite liked the idea at least of trying to help people.)

I don’t know.

Could it be you’re frustrated because you have shut off your ‘diaper’ outlet?

Mmmm… I don’t know.

Could it be that pulling on a diaper was something you so enjoyed doing… that now… without it…?


It did get me thinking and as I finished my pasta I realised that these guys were definitely onto something. I measured my few experiences against their mass of experience and came to a similar conclusion to them… don’t run your life for other people’s benefit - to the detriment of your own. The fact that I was frustrated at being gay and not having a boyfriend… or even a friend I could talk to… was also getting me down.


Actually, since I’d met these two guys, only a few hours earlier, I’d never been so happy, well, with the possible exception of when I discovered my younger brother’s plastic pants. Not only had they welcomed me into their home, they had literally given me the instruments I needed to ‘mend’ myself. I was back wearing diapers, had a photo-shoot to look forward to where I’d get to wear all manner of babyish outfits and, no less importantly, I’d had two gigantic orgasms without so much as touching myself. I didn’t see how things could get any better.




Once the plates had been cleared away, we sat and chatted some more before Tony presented us with dessert. I was full but soft ice cream, covered in strawberry syrup and with butterscotch mousse at the bottom of the large glass tumbler, which were all my favorites (how did he know), had me strangely drooling so, how could I refuse?


I was overjoyed that they’d gone to such trouble… but before I had time to express my thanks… a large dollop of soft but sticky ice cream splattered against my cheek. I looked to see Michael armed with a second spoonful of the stuff aimed at his daddy. He let it go and the cold pudding exploded on his daddy’s chest. At the same time Tony had unleashed a second splodge of the stuff towards me, which hit me squarely in the eye. Thankfully, I was able to just scoop it off my face and eat it before I also loaded up my spoon and in rapid succession sent the stuff flying at my two hosts. Spoonful after spoonful flew through the air and hit their targets, not necessarily with any accuracy, but with plenty of laughter, giggling and promises of a severe tickling as a result of direct hits. Bits of my naked body, which were still exposed, were soon greasy with the remnants of the stuff… thankfully my bib and plastic pants took most of the sweet assault.




After the ‘fight’ was over we all looked a mess but were still in a happy place as we’d laughed so much. My mind was not on my lack of employment but on how wonderful this father and son were together… and with me… a complete stranger.  However brilliant my dad is… and he is… I could not ever see him having this much fun and I began to long for a similar relationship myself.


It was then into the shower where Michael stripped me out of my splattered protection. In fact, I stripped Tony, Tony stripped Michael, and we all crowded together in the fairly spacious shower, where we had equally as much fun cleaning each other up. To begin with we licked each other clean of as much pudding as we could, which was also a fun and sexy thing to do before we finished off with a shower itself.


Again, my hope was that all this licking, touching and erotic sensations that coursed through my body might just turn into something a bit more physical… but it didn’t. They noticed my stiff cock, in fact they were both incredibly well-blessed in that department themselves, but sex, unlike the pudding, was not on the menu.




Once dried and back in the bedroom I realised how late it was and, as Michael had to be up early for work (he had to be out of the house and on his way by 6am) it was decided it was time for bed. Tony got his son ready; baby oil was rubbed in and powder liberally sprinkled before he applied a very thick cloth diaper, which he pinned on before fitting him into a pair of opaque plastic pants. Seeing this soft giant being treated as a little kid was brilliant to watch and there was fun and respect in the procedure that certainly got to me. Again there was that touch of envy which I wished I could lose.


“OK Danny... oops sorry Daniel… your turn,” Tony patted the space next to his son and I crawled over to it in eager anticipation.


After a brief discussion between the three of us, and in which my opinions were completely ignored, it was decided that, for this night at least I was to be double diapered.

The two thick disposables were incredibly bulky and when they were topped by a similarly opaque pair of plastic pants like Michael’s my groin looked like a well blown up balloon… but Tony hadn’t finished. He produced a pale pink shorty onesie, which I had to climb into. There were no buttons or studs at the crotch as it was all one piece but the final touch was a zip up the back that held everything in. My arms were covered but my legs were bare and the image was like I should have been deposited straight into a large crib complete with a large pacifier.


However, Michael rolled back the blanket, climbed in and patted the space for me to crawl in next to him. Meanwhile, Tony had pulled on a disposable and a pair of rather fetching navy blue plastic pants with ruffles across the bottom and climbed in next to me.

As I settled between them they both hugged and cuddled me, which made me feel wanted and special. They were genuinely wonderful, thoughtful people who seemed to love each as well as others. Despite my dick desperately trying to get hard and gain some kind of relief, the bulkiness was a barrier to any external motivation. However, when Tony and then Michael both kissed me goodnight, I did what I’d done before and filled my diaper with my splurge. With the relaxing aftermath of such an intense orgasm I was grateful that I was where I was and couldn’t help thinking what a day it had been. I was happy and unbelievably content.




I slept in short bursts. When I partially awoke and moved, even slightly, a comforting hand wrapped itself around me and I was drawn into a friendly cuddle. Our generous diapers felt really good rubbing up against each other and I enjoyed the thick, fullness between my legs. At one point I was desperate to go to the bathroom but I realised I didn’t want to disturb these two slumbering hunks. I waited for as long as I could but eventually I had no option but to let it flow. My double diaper did its work and the relief, followed by the warm glow soon had me drifting off again.


When I woke up Michael had already left for work and I could hear Tony organising breakfast. My soggy diapers weren’t so comforting now and I was relieved to see that when I got up there were no damp spots where I’d slept… well done plastic pants. However, I couldn’t reach the zip on the back of the onesie so had to rely on Tony to release me from my cotton prison. Before he did, we sat at the table and had coffee and some bagels and chatted about what I could expect at the shoot.


He’d been reading an email from Auntie Mary, which said that as well as stills shoot, she had one of her friends to come and capture various scenes on video. Apparently, these little movies would be made available to those who were members of her site or who had ordered goods. They would be just short, fun little set up scenes that, she said, would add value to the site by offering that little extra incentive. I was a bit nervous about this turn of events and, if it wasn’t for the feeling I’d be letting Tony and Michael down (and risk losing their friendship) I may well have called a halt to proceedings there and then.




Once breakfast was over, and Tony had smiled throughout as I suppose he realised I was squirming in my messy diaper and had no way of getting out of it on my own, he unzipped me and set me free. He asked if I needed any help but I shucked it all off (my diaper was a very soggy mess) and headed for the shower. On my return Tony was waiting with powder and lotion and explained that he could diaper me now or at the studio. I didn’t mind wearing a diaper to travel in so went along with his suggestion, and to save time later.


As we drove to the studio I felt snug in the tight fitting disposable that Tony had put me in. The thick rubber pants I didn’t think were necessary but, he’d slipped them on me before I had chance to say anything and they gripped me nicely around the waist and legs. I hadn’t wanted to wear my work clothes again, for me those days were now over, and, Tony had leant me a t-shirt and a pair of rather short shorts, which bulged out pretty impressively thanks to my protection. As I sat in the passenger seat the shorts rode up my thigh and exposed the rubber pants beneath but, guess what, I had gotten used to such things so any embarrassment I might once have had… was now gone.




The studio was done out like a huge nursery, with a large crib, playpen, and all manner of childish things, but made for bigger hands. I thought they must have raided a TV set to get all the stuff but, as Auntie Mary told us, everything that was seen could be bought from her site. She obviously had other talented people, carpenters, plastic technicians, all sorts who she could call upon to design and make up any special orders that her customers desired.


The morning was spent with me getting naked. Auntie made sure I was hair free and even cut the hair on my head to suit her style. Baby, who was in a very sweet little romper outfit with bunnies and ducks all over it, was always around with his camera, poking it at me and zooming in and out on various items. He never got in Tony’s way, he was very aware of what needed to be seen and Auntie, who was dressed as a British nanny (not unlike Mary Poppins), occasionally joined me in certain scenes. Often it was just her leg or a piece of her apron, or her boots or her hand if it was either helping or chastising me. She was also very hands on and actually did most of the changes herself, making sure the fit was just right for the garment and to make sure I had the correct babyish attitude to carry it all off. She’d rehearse me a couple of time before I stepped in front of the camera and was fastidious about getting the right amount of bulge, droop, bagginess, tightness, petulance… in fact… I retreated to my childhood on more than one occasion and complained loudly. She wanted that grouchiness on camera so Tony kept taking photos as she scolded me… she was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it.




Some of her outfits were way over the top for me, like all-in-one rubber affairs, but fitted with masks and zips that gave access to various parts of the body. There were items that had straps, chains and openings where items could be inserted. Some were hard-core fetish but I preferred the baby and toddler pieces best. I really couldn’t get enough of all the cleverly designed covers, bibs, all-in-ones, coveralls… and there were elements in the range that I hadn’t seen before that really took my breath away… and I found very erotic to wear. Mainly, it wasn’t just the eroticism of the clothes, although I had messed in my ‘special’ way on three occasions before I was done, it was the pleasure of regressing so easily and loving that feeling. I just hoped those who would be wearing any of this clothing in future would enjoy them as much as I had.


The last bit of the shoot was of just me and Auntie Mary’s daughter Maddy having a baby’s tea party. I quickly realised that Tony had decided that he wanted us to recreate the same sort of pudding fight that we’d enjoyed the night before. I was wearing another bib and a thick diaper in a pink plastic cover that fastened with Velcro around my tummy. It could be pulled very tight so the overstuffed diaper was very evident.  Maddy wore a short satin party dress that showed off her matching frilly satin knickers, which again were bloated by a thick diaper. The cream and chocolate sauce went everywhere but it was a very enjoyable bit of silliness all caught on camera for the site ‘bonus’ scheme. I licked the stuff off her plastic coated satin knickers and she licked it of my voluminous plastic pants. Auntie Mary was very encouraging until the final shot when she came in and I was put across her knee and spanked. I remember seeing the last shot online and it was a pan up from my red bottom to a sobbing me sucking my thumb and looking a very sad and sorry little boy indeed.




The shoot finished and I didn’t know what to do. I have to say that there were many of the items I would have loved to add to my own closet but they would have cost a fortune. However, Auntie had made two items just for me. One was a pair of shorty pajamas that were festooned with cartoon cowboys, the shorts of which had studs along the crotch for undoing and changing a messy boy like me, and the satin sailor suit, again with easy release pop studs, that I’d worn the day before and that had had such an effect on me. I was grateful that Auntie had gone to so much trouble.


Unknown to me, Tony had brought my work clothes with him, and after I’d cleaned up he suggested I go home and let my parents know what I’d been up to. Just what I told them was up to me but I had visions of me arriving home in my suit and happily wearing a thick over-stuffed diaper underneath. However, as he handed me some money, which I supposed was the fee for the shoot, although we’d never actually agreed a sum, he said that as I was still without a job, he’d put his feelers out and see if he couldn’t find me something… more permanent.




I wasn’t in a rush to go home, not exactly scared but doubtful that I could carry off the lie I thought would be necessary. I ended up back at his place and he asked if I shouldn’t ring home and let them know what I was doing but before I had chance, he received a call on his cell from Michael who said he might have found something for me. Both seemed excited at the idea so I called home to tell them that the drinking session ended fine and I wasn’t in any trouble but that one of my friends thinks he’d found a possible job so I was staying over another night to check it out first thing in the morning. They were impressed by my determination.


I was impressed with the thick diaper that Tony had made me wear as we watched TV and relaxed. I was expecting a glass of wine or some sort of celebration but Tony said that, when I was in a diaper there was to be no alcohol, no drugs (which was fine because I didn’t do that), no grown up programs and definitely… no sex. Thankfully it didn’t mean stewed peas and mashed rice, or whatever it is babies have to eat, however, it did mean I was in for another sexually frustrating night sleeping between these two hunks… but, thinking about that, I suppose it wasn’t all bad. 




Part 6


At around 5.30 in the morning I found a tatty old pair of shorts and an equally distressed T-shirt waiting next to my own suit and shirt and briefs. I was told that if I wanted, I could go along with Michael and work with him on the site. I was not only half asleep (until that moment they hadn’t told me exactly what the job was) I was confused but thought I’d remind them that all I’d ever done was office work so a building site was not really me. However, I was convinced to at least to give it a try (after all I was jobless) and before long, I was dressed in those shorts and t-shirt and, for what felt like the first time in a while, back in a regular pair of briefs. I was told that a diaper would probably be very unpleasant after working on the site all day because it would ride up and tangle or bunch up uncomfortably.  They’d even found a pair of boots my size (but don’t ask me where from) and, by 6am, I was suddenly heading out with Michael for my first day as a manual laborer.


I hadn’t known that Michael was in fact the site manager so he had me assisting the more established workers. They were about twenty men in total, all sexy in their own way but, even though I might have thought about it for a few minutes, sex on the job was not on the cards. Yes, ‘those feeling’ were now at the forefront of my mind but… I had to work hard as the men were pretty demanding and had a surprisingly good work ethic. For me it was back-breaking, physical work and left no time to fantasize about sex, diapers, plastic pants or being a pampered baby. Even though I had no idea how long the work would last… at least I was employed and this change in direction would be a surprise to my parents… when I eventually got home.


As I carried bricks, mixed cement, loaded scaffolding etc. all I could think about was – what changes in my life a couple of days had seen. I have to admit that I’d gone from the sublime to the ridiculous in the space of the last 24 hours; from a diaper wearing baby to a butch, manual construction worker. The work was hard and later, when Michael eventually dropped me off at my own home, I was just a knackered, sweaty and dust covered version of a guy I used to be.


When I walked through the door my parents were very surprised at the turn of events and, after initially being cold about not letting them know precisely what I was up to, said they were proud – yes PROUD - of me. They were impressed that I’d done everything possible to find myself work in such difficult times. Needless to say, I didn’t tell them exactly what it was that I had done to get this particular job (and would be more than happy to do again). Strangely, my dad seemed to have a new respect for me now I was laboring and my mum didn’t seem too worried about the dust and dirt that followed me about. It was very strange because, up in my own bedroom that night I had a desire to slip into a diaper and happily continue what had started back at Tony’s place. However, I was far too tired and the thought that I’d have to be up and out of the house myself by 6am made me reconsider my priorities. I slept in just a pair of boxers… and I was OK with that but knowing I could pull on a pair of pull-ups or slip into a diaper anytime I wanted… and… feel OK about it… that was a terrific place to be.



On the second day on the site, Michael told me I was to assist BB, as he needed someone to run and fetch for him while he was stuck up a scaffold doing some roofing. I had not met him on my first day but now – WOW – I was happy to help him out in any way. He was 35, had been married, was built like a brick-shithouse and filled his denim cut-off shorts and AC/DC t-shirt so well I was completely in awe of him. Between bringing him either a hod full of shingles, tar or buckets of fresh cement, we were kept busy so small talk was minimal. However, I couldn’t help but notice that even Michael would have to take second place in a contest between these two in looks and physical appearance.


With his thick hairy legs holding up such a fantastic body as he stretched, twisted and bent to do his work all I kept thinking was that I wished he was gay like me. Thankfully, I noticed the waistband peeking out above his shorts; there was just a hint of yellow plastic pants - for me that was instant recognition of another AB or DL. My gaydar ‘pinged’ in my mind but of course, this was a stupid generalisation… though on this occasion it proved to be correct. Once the possibilities were sorted in my head, and I assumed that Michael had placed me with him specifically, I flirted with BB and dropped hints, which I hoped left him in no doubt as to my intentions. Some of the horny things he said in response to my teasing and joking left me all hot and bothered; mind you, the continuing hot weather and physical exertion of the job were not helping much either.



Over the next few days I got to know BB better and we got along fine. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that Michael had put us two together for a reason. On the Friday after work he suggested we celebrate my week’s work with a drink at a bar in town. I was so excited that this hunk wanted to spend time with me that I immediately said ‘Yes’… and that knowing smile of his promised even more.


I hadn’t seen anything of Tony since I’d started work and, because he was working on a different building and supervising all the other new builds, I hadn’t see that much of Michael either. However, earlier Tony had packaged up all my stuff from Auntie and Michael had brought it to work for me to take home. I hadn’t had time to get the stuff sorted but, before I went out that night I thought I’d better hang it up or at least put it away until I was ready to resume my diaper interests.


Tony had not only parcelled up Auntie’s gifts, he’d also added two pairs of cloth diapers, several disposables and two pairs of plastic pants. I was beside myself with happiness and once again marvelled at the generosity and understanding of a man who had changed my life around in such a short span of time.



I thought, as I’d noticed BB’s plastic pants he may well have been wearing a diaper underneath, although I hadn’t see any noticeable padding, it gave me the opportunity to wear a diaper again and also show support for his ‘fetish’. I pulled on one of the disposables, selected the pink pop-studded plastic pants and shimmied into my jeans, the look was tight but I didn’t appear overly bulky. A pink and pale blue polo shirt finished my ensemble. With a kiss to mum and a wave to dad I told them not to wait up as me and the gang (I told them that a group of us from work were all going out together) planned on being out late.


There was a new found confidence in me now and I was no longer scared of meeting and reacting to, other people. Although I was still relatively shy, in comparison to what I used to be like only a week ago, I was a different guy. BB and I chatted almost nonstop; his marriage broke up because he was gay and didn’t like pretending to his wife, who had suspected his real inclinations herself. He said that he hadn’t acted on his real feelings during the marriage, which he’d found difficult, but once the divorce was through, had gone at it like a man possessed. He’d had a relationship with a man named Peter that had lasted 6 months but that had literally petered out and he realised he wasn’t for him. BB, which had been his nickname since he was a kid actually stood for Big Boy, the name his dad had called him almost from birth. Apparently, his dad had been very impressed with his new son’s ‘equipment’ and the nickname was his way of being both boastful and proud of his boy.




I asked him about the plastic pants. He seemed shocked, and a bit embarrassed that I knew. I told him about seeing them peeking over his rather sexy cut-offs and I’d been fantasising about them ever since. He smiled a sort of relieved smile and I opened the top button on my jeans a little so he could see I was wearing my plastic pants. That was my opportunity to talk about me and explain my interest in diapers and stuff. He seemed impressed with my journey from my brother’s plastic protection to my own diaper love and wasn’t thrown at all when I told him about my recent photo shoot. In fact he said he couldn’t wait to go online and see the results… maybe he could get me into a diaper. He hadn’t noticed that I was wearing one but, in my mind at least, he’d be finding out later on.


His thing was simply plastic. He loved the feel, the smell, the sheer pleasure it gave him to wear an item of plastic clothing. He wasn’t an ABDL, or so he said, but just keen on having that particular material next to his skin. It was getting late and he suggested we went off to a club but I have to tell you, after a week of manual work, especially as I was using muscles I didn’t even know I had, I was fairly knackered and the last thing I wanted was to jig around a dancefloor. I suggested, if he was up for it, to go back to his place and see what happened. He liked that idea.




When he shuffled out of his clothes and was standing all but naked in front of me I was once again in absolute awe. Yes awestruck because even in a pair of clear plastic pants and nothing else he looked magnificent. Tight muscles, six-pack abs, pecs I could have nibbled on all day but his dick, wow, behind the clear piece of plastic his dick was thick, dark and shiny. It was if someone had poured a bottle of baby oil all over it. The slick look and large flared helmet making me do a double take as I wondered if I could accommodate such a wonderful piece of work.


I was lying on his bed in just my pink plastic pants and diaper, which he appeared to like the look of as I watched, through his see-thru pants, him begin to grow. His dad had named him well and my own diapered restriction was screaming for release. He climbed on the bed beside me and we kissed for the first time and any thoughts of sleep were instantly abandoned.




Saturday morning found me curled up in his manly embrace. I could see my diaper and plastic pants hanging from the bedhead but he was still wearing his. We stayed in bed for most of the day and somewhere, in amongst the rumpled sheets and condoms, you’d probably find my virginity. I loved the fact that this gorgeous manly man had taken control. If I’d been in any doubt, the last few days had proved that I liked to be dominated, led and controlled and as BB kissed and stroked my body, I knew that I would do absolutely anything for him and he could do anything to me.


As he had things to do, we got up about 3pm and I began to get dressed. The disposable was too far gone to be used again but the resourceful BB went to the bathroom and returned with a thick hand towel. He got me to lay out and deftly pinned me into his version of a homemade diaper. The love and care he put into it left me speechless and I just intuitively sucked on my thumb and let him get on with it. He snapped me back into my exceedingly tight pink plastic pants and admired his work as I gave him a little wriggle. This inspired him to look up Auntie Mary’s site and see if the new images were online yet. To my surprise they were… and BB was absolutely bowled over by all the kinky gear I was wearing. He kept pointing at some of the plastic stuff saying he’d like to see us both in that… or how cute I looked in a huge thick diaper and nothing else. All the while he was looking at the site I was standing at his side and his hand was constantly stroking my bulky bottom.



When I got home I called Tony to tell him and Michael about my ‘fabulous’ night and asked them if they’d planned the whole thing. Tony proclaimed his innocence but I couldn’t tell if Michael was there and enjoying his own satisfaction at a job well done. I wasn’t complaining though and mentioned that both BB and I had seen the site and was very impressed with the layout. Tony asked me to get in touch with Auntie Mary as she wanted a word. I asked what about but he said he didn’t know but perhaps she had other designs she thought I might like to pose for. I told him I’d call her as soon as I’d finished speaking to him, which I did after thanking him over and over again for what he’d done for me over the past week. He was happy that I was happy and that was more than enough and hoped that I wouldn’t forget them both now I had a new ‘play mate’. I told him I’d still like to play with them sometimes if they were up for it… and we left it at that.


Auntie Mary asked me to pop in to her shop the next time I was passing, although the way she said it I assumed she meant asap. Tony and Michael were out when I arrived so I just called in to her baby clothes shop to see what assistance I could be. Her nanny gear was gone and she was dressed as normal and as such didn’t appear so controlling, but she still radiated authority and I felt like a little kid in her presence. She told me that the site, although it had only been open a couple of days, was doing very well and complimented me for my ‘starring’ ability. She was happy to shower praise on me saying that every image was getting viewed many, many times and that I’d become a bit of a hit. I felt quite proud and was happy that everything had gone so well. She said that orders had come flooding in... the blue and white satin sailor suit with the plastic lining being a particular favourite with her clients… but that she also had some other requests that I might be interested in knowing about.




Apparently, I was in demand - not just the clothes I’d been wearing but me… I was asked if I was also available. There was a small fan club that Auntie Mary knew about and they wanted me to… well to be their baby. I looked at her doubtfully but she just nodded and explained what it was they wanted from me. There were a group of men and women, but mainly men, who would pay for me to be their ‘baby’ for a few hours. I’d be dressed, changed, fed, burped… in fact all the things you do with a baby… they wanted to do to me. I looked at her in shock as she went on to tell me how much they were willing to pay for this ‘privilege’.


She told me that most of them would buy just about anything if they knew they would have me to dress up and ‘play’ with. She went on to say that it could be a bit of a money making project for both the shop and me if I wanted to take up the option. I felt like I had to say yes, even though in my head it was a definite no-no. However, thinking I’d thought of a brilliant way to get out of it I said that of course I’d do it, only if Maddy was doing it as well. I thought that Auntie wouldn’t let her daughter do it in a million years but she smiled and said that Maddy was already out on her first assignment. I couldn’t believe it but, as I said I do it if she did, I had little option but to agree.




As I was now in relatively full time work Auntie Mary had to plan any visits around my evenings if it was local or weekend if I had to travel. Some people wanted to use the nursery from the photo-shoot so Tony made his studio available for those occasions, which often included Maddy and me together. All the arrangements were left to Auntie and she would either give me a pile of clothes to take with me or the clients would already have whatever they wanted me to use… either way, the shop was doing a roaring trade and she had to set on another two workers to help with the constant demand.


After that intense first occasion I was hoping to see more of BB but he was happy to keep it, to begin with at least, very low key, after all we were working together during the day. Suddenly, from when I had nothing but time on my hands, I was now so busy I hardly had time to take a breath. In between all that, my ‘fans’ had made request of new designs they wanted to see me in so, Auntie and her staff were even busier and I was needed to model each item.


Tony pointed the camera once more and my rubber covered butt gleamed as the latest piece of sexy but babyish fashion was photographed for posterity… and Auntie’s site. I also knew that later that evening my naked, well shaved, oiled and powdered body would be wrapped in someone’s idea of what ‘Baby Danny’ should wear. Most of the clients (Auntie was very clear about how I should refer to them) wanted to be called Daddy or Mummy, and they would treat me just as a little baby. Others wanted to join in games, also dressed in a similar way as myself or watch cartoons together. Auntie was clear that any client wanting anything sexual from either Maddy or me wasn’t going to get it...  but that didn't stop them from asking or offering a fortune for a different kind of 'privilege'.


Tony was amazed at the way things had taken off and congratulated me on being so damn popular. I pointed out it was all down to him and his scruffy looking diaper cover. That's what had drawn my attention so it was his fault entirely. He laughed and nodded in agreement but pointed out that it was my interest in looking up his pant leg that had led us to talking… so he couldn’t… and wouldn’t take all the credit.


Working with BB and getting together for the occasional night of plastic fun made me incredibly happy. Being part of an ABDL community and being in such demand meant that my bank account was also doing nicely, whilst I just had to dress up in some wonderful babyish creations - my life had never been better.


The End

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