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Jenny’s Story                                                                                                                   By Les Lea

Jenny was a sweet baby; pretty, placid and absolutely gorgeous. That wasn’t just the opinion of her doting parents; everyone who ever met her immediately thought she should be advertising some baby product or other. Whether she was dressed to impress in her trendy baby clothes or merely crawling around in her diaper, people would stop and comment on just how cute she was. Her joyous smile made everyone cheerful; everyone being cheery seemed to make her smile all the more. Jenny was a magnet for well-being and happiness.

As she grew up her sweet demeanour made her a favourite play-mate, she was fun and always happy to join in. ‘Mommies and Daddies’ was her favourite game and often, because she was so easy going, nearly always ended up playing baby. She didn’t mind, all her life she’d been used to people making a fuss around her so when her friends wanted to do the same, she simply complied – it was just a game after all.

Her little chums took great delight in dressing up their ‘baby daughter’. All the way through her junior years they would pretend that some piece of material, or pretty fabric would make an eye-catching new garment. Of course it was all make believe so often the dress or blouse was terrible and ill-fitting but it didn’t stop the girls using Jenny as their baby model. Jenny didn’t mind either as long as they had done one thing correctly; she liked to be put in a diaper first.

As soon as they started playing she would shuffle out of her panties and her friends, who had become very adept at the game and privy to Jenny’s penchant for protection, would have brought disposables, sibling’s diapers and an array of plastic pants to get the baby fashion show underway. Jenny loved all the preparation; the wet-wipes, the lotion, the powder and then the actual fitting everything tightly into place. She would lay there and giggle, make baby noises or, if someone had thought ahead, suck happily on a bottle or pacifier. Over the years she was able to collect quite a few items, which she treasured and kept safely stored away in her childhood memory box. It contained a few of her toys, some of her baby things and loads of her childhood clothes. It was a place her mother knew about and thought how sweet it was that her beautiful daughter should want to keep all those things in her bedroom, maybe even eventually passing them on to her children.

Of course her parents had potty-trained their gorgeous daughter fairly early on and dressed her to reflect the affluence their position demanded but they had no knowledge of her preference for being treated as a baby. In fact, when her friends came to her home Jenny always found a different game to play so, ‘Mommies and Daddies’, ‘Fashion Baby’ or any variant where a baby was involved was never allowed. She did however keep a photograph of mommy and daddy and herself as a toddler at the side of her bed. Her parents looked so proud of their beautiful daughter in her cute little dress with just a hint of diaper and plastic pants showing under the hemline. In her heart of hearts, this was how Jenny always saw herself and always wanted to stay.

Throughout her school years she kept her desire secret from all but a few. Her supply of diapers and covers only brought out for her own amusement or at times of stress. Exams or even meeting her relations caused her some anxiety; as a result she would slip on her diaper, pull up her plastic panties and crawl into bed. Any and all problems would instantly disappear as she sucked her thumb and regressed to her favourite state – that of a two year-old. Although she was an intensely good-looking girl, and later young lady, she was never confident about her body. Others of her age who might have felt a similar disconnect, found a different, often more destructive way to deal with such a dilemma but Jenny chose a place of warmth and safety.

Unfortunately, her parents liked to see her grow up and admired the sweet, sophisticated, understanding and benevolent young woman she became. She gave her time and effort over to looking after children; babies, toddlers and infants up to the age of five who had been abandoned or needed sanctuary for some reason. She had, thanks to a hefty donation, opened up a place of refuge where they could stay protected and well looked after.


The safe house for children was a great success and Jenny loved looking after each and every one of those sweet tots who came her way. The reason she was so successful was because she totally identified with their simple requirements to be kept clean, tidy, fed and amused. She made life simple for herself by having each child of either sex wear only a diaper and smock so that changes were made easier and there was no pressure for them to be seen in the latest trendy clothing, every child was equal, they were all treated the same. The only choices were different coloured diapers and a wonderful array of patterned plastic covers, which the children often made a game of deciding which style to wear. Jenny was no different. She wore her diapers and plastic pants under her dress more or less like her charges, except perhaps hers weren’t as obvious as theirs but just as colourful.

In some quarters she was seen as a Saint; giving up all her time and devoting so much attention to her small but busy nursery. Loving the babies, treating her toddlers with care and making sure they enjoyed their young lives to the full, it was something she felt she was born to do. The mess that kids made was not a problem, she revelled in the noise and adventure, the ideas and play, the innocence and openness - the atmosphere was full of fun and the smell of baby powder - intoxicating.

Jenny and her few helpers would be down on the floor crawling around with the kids, babies were cuddled and rocked, meal times were a hoot and even when there were tantrums and tears, it was all treated with kisses and hugs. Jenny’s team would be having as much fun as the children, playing with toys, nuzzling teddy bears or building imaginary palaces. There wasn’t a dress code for them but a couple, like their boss, wore a diaper under their work clothes. They may have been the most responsible ‘big kids’ in the room but they had as much enjoyment as the children. Apart from the difference in size, it was often difficult to tell grown up from toddler as their diapered and crinkly bottoms interacted and played together.

The place was a success and more and more people wanted their own children to be a part of that experience.  Alas for Jenny, as the numbers rose so did the expense, which wouldn’t have been so bad if her sponsor’s donation hadn’t dried up and finance proved difficult to come by. The offers of monetary support she received were nowhere near what she needed to keep going and so, with a great deal of regret and emotion, the nursery closed. The children had to go to other facilities, her helpers had to find new work and Jenny was left saddened and devastated by the collapse of her project. She never thought she’d find anything to take its place or give her the satisfaction it had done. She would sit in the colourful empty nursery totally depressed, wearing nothing but her protection and sucking her thumb; she had no idea what to do next. That was until Mr Henderson appeared in her life.


Part 2

Mr Henderson was an ABDL fan. He didn’t dress as an adult baby, nor did he wear a diaper but he loved those who did. He’d been pointed in Jenny’s direction by a person who knew about her love of diapers and thought that they might have some kind of mutual understanding.

He was surprised on that first visit to find the very person he’d been told about looking like a small, distressed child wearing an ultra-thick diaper and whose pink frilly plastic pants ballooned out around her. His heart was instantly grabbed as his sudden appearance had caused Jenny, in her deepest depression, to burst into tears. This was a side she never showed to others but on this occasion, this nice looking, 50 year-old man, with soothing words and a comforting hug, was all she needed to let her feelings go.

She didn’t know why but she felt the compassion in this man’s embrace. She wailed her pain and disappointment into his shoulder as he consoled her like the baby she’d become. All the responsibility of her job, the loss, the hurt, the sheer emotion of no longer being able to take care of ‘her’ children was all too much. Mr Henderson hugged her, rubbed her back, patted her diapered bottom and generally calmed Jenny in a gentle, relaxing rocking motion that made her doze peacefully wrapped  in his arms.

As she came round Mr Henderson was still swaying tenderly letting her find her own way from unconsciousness. She was aware that it was still a stranger who held her and was slightly embarrassed that she’d found comfort and understanding from such a man.

She didn’t know what to say, although she liked the attention and really didn’t want it to stop; she thought that at least she should introduce herself and get his name. Their eyes met and just as she was about to speak he got in first.

“Hello sweet child.” His words were smooth and placating. “My name is Henry Henderson,” he paused for a moment picking the right moment, “but you can call me Daddy, if you want.”

Her mind raced to see if she remembered the name for any reason but the ‘Daddy’ bit was a surprise, she gulped.

“Don’t say anything just yet,” he said soothingly as he continued to rock her and pat her plastic covered bottom, “I’m here because I’m looking for a place of my own.”

He looked around at the brightly painted walls, the cartoon characters, the stencilled words of encouragement and the wonderfully illustrated scenes that covered nearly every surface.

“This place is just perfect.” He hugged her tightly.

Jenny was about to speak but he gently shushed her.

“Let me finish little one.” He smiled and helped her put her thumb back into her mouth. “I need a place for my babies.  A place equipped to accommodate their innocence and playfulness… and one where I’m sure they’d all be happy.”

He held Jenny a little way from his body, took in a long look and smiled.

“My babies are like you Little Jenny, girls, women, people who like to live a certain way.”

He looked at her to see if she understood what was being said and continued.

“My babies don’t want any responsibilities; they just want loads of love and affection and the lifestyle they have chosen.”

He stroked Jenny’s plastic pants a bit firmer smoothing out the contours of her thick diaper and despite trying not to show it, a shiver ran through his touch. It wasn’t from Jenny; it was Mr Henderson revealing his true intent.

“I know quite a bit about you sweet Jenny. I know how you tried to make this place work for children. I know of your personal needs… “

Jenny removed her thumb and was about to speak but Mr Henderson raised his eyebrows and gently shook his head.

“I’m trying not to be weird,” he said as a huge smile returned to his face, “although I’ll grant you that did sound a bit much. What I’m trying to say is for that reason I sought you out as I understand, I appreciate and I’d like to help but in a different direction.”

Jenny pulled away from this older man’s gentle caress and eyed him with slight suspicion.

“What do you mean ‘my personal needs’?” She shrugged as if it was something she didn’t know to what he was referring. “The nursery is my…”

“Please don’t get me wrong,” he interrupted, “I’m not trying to embarrass you but I know you have a liking for diapers and such things…” He shrugged himself, “I myself like those things as well but only on others, my babies, my girls who I dearly love.”

Jenny knew such people existed but surprisingly had never met one before.

“OK, but what do you want from me?” She was back to being Jenny the comforter now not the one who needed comforting.

“I’d like to buy your building… it’s almost exactly what I’ve been searching for… and, with a few improvements I can see it working very well.”

“You want to open a crèche… a nursery… for adult babies.  Is that what you are telling me?” She asked a little sceptically.

“Basically, yes.” He nodded now he knew she understood what it was he wanted. “Of course it would be private, just a place for me and my girls to live the way we want. I look after them, much as you did with your children and in return I get immense satisfaction seeing them run around and playing dressed in their…” he looked her up and down, “chosen clothing.”

“You get turned on watching girls dressed in diapers and being babied?”

“Yes,” he shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “my girls have come to me to be looked after. They like what I offer and…”

“Do you have sex with them?” Jenny asked in an uncompromising fashion.

It was a question he’d partly expected but somehow hadn’t expected it to be so direct.

“Sorry but no.” He tried to find the words.

“It does turn me on. I like to see my babies crawling around and the thicker the diaper, the shinier the pants, the sweeter the look, the cuter they appear… well… yes I get turned on but I don’t want to harm them. I don’t want to abuse them or for them to have to experience… er…  often the very thing that brought them to this point in the first place… to GROW UP.”

Jenny was surprised at such candour and emotion. He turned his back and spread out his hands as if speaking to the entire room of cartoon characters.

“This is what they want. They want to regress and have fun. They want anything but to do those things that drive most people mad, angry or violent. They want a safe place, with a safe person…”

He looked back at Jenny, “The very thing you supplied to your children, I want for mine.”


Part 3

The conversation carried on for quite some time. Jenny in her diapers being very grown up and making the suave, sophisticated, mature Mr Henderson justify his personal stance. It wasn’t that Jenny didn’t understand, if anything, she wanted to understand better, and, and this was the bit she couldn’t quite get her head round, she rather liked Mr Henderson, but why?

 When he left there was a healthy offer to buy the property, a timescale he wanted to work to and perhaps, not surprisingly a safe place for Jenny to live the lifestyle she might prefer. Daddy Henderson (for that was what he would be called) had been most clear he would love to have her as part of his toddler group. Every need she had would be met - he guaranteed no worries, no responsibilities and definitely, no sex. Her life wouldn’t be entirely her own, in fact Daddy insisted that all decisions were his; what they wore, what they ate, where they went and how they all interacted. He was adamant that his way worked as it was already doing so with the four other babies who called him Daddy.

Jenny spent the next few days examining her own position. The nursery, although successful, had failed. In ways, she really didn’t want to admit, it was relief not to have the responsibility. However, she missed her little diapered group often wondering what each member was now up to; would they be happily enjoying themselves? Would their new carers be giving them the love and support she’d been able to offer? Would their sweet little tushes be given the loving and appreciative pats as they played? Would they be allowed to be kids and not forced to grow up too quickly?

The worry she was giving herself was getting too much. She slipped almost unwittingly into baby mode, desperately wanting someone else to take on this gigantic responsibility. The diapers and other babywear she found comfort in only partially succeeding in doing their job.

With all this anxiety she wet herself. She hadn’t realised just how much or how long she’d been holding it in but for a moment her self-control evaporated. The warming flood filled her diaper, whilst uncontainable tears fell from her eyes.

She curled up on the floor hugging herself; the wet diaper cooling as her mind slipped from being an adult to being a dependent baby. Was this really something she was prepared to give up on?

She fell asleep for a few minutes but when she gained consciousness realised she had wet once again. The warm glow in her diaper reminding her of the decision she needed to make.

This was a sign.

Jenny was at her wits end. Her state of mind was on the edge and Mr Henderson’s time frame was also rapidly coming to an end so knew she had to make some kind of choice. She put in the call.

Within the hour Mr Henderson was at the nursery. He explained to Jenny his plans for change, which included adult versions of cribs, changing tables, play areas, toys, stuffed animals, diapers, clothing, in fact most of what he needed was already in transit. Once everything was ready and to his satisfaction he’d move his ‘babies’ the big question now that remained was… did Jenny want to be a part of it all?

“I know this is a wrench for you but…” his soothing words fell on anxious ears, “it could be the start of a whole new life.”

Jenny wriggled awkwardly inside the thick diaper she wore under her pretty floral dress. Externally, to anyone who didn’t know, she looked like a fresh-faced, novice school teacher negotiating the sale of a building but underneath, she was quaking self-consciously because of the enormity of her next move.

“It would be a privilege if you would join us,” Mr Henderson offered his hand. “I think we’d all make such a happy and contented little team. No more worries…” he raised his eyebrows and smiled, “now wouldn’t that be something?”

Jenny had made her decision and took hold of Mr Henderson’s hand.

“Yes.” Jenny sighed.

Mr Henderson hugged her close, patted and stroked her padded bottom and sighed himself.

“Yes what my little angel?”

“Yes… Daddy.”

******************the end*********************


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