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Never More Content                                                                                             by Les Lea

Rob had been with Doctor Mark Thompson now for around 19 months. It was a relationship that, at the beginning, neither could have foreseen the outcome. However, Rob has never been happier; his days are now filled with fun, adventure and that rarest of gifts… love. For these last few months he had learned that he didn’t have to fight for everything, he didn’t have to worry about anything and, in fact, he didn’t have to think at all, Daddy would see to his every need.

Rob was only 14 when he tried to mug the rich-looking man who was getting out of his BMW. His stomach was empty and he was desperate because for the last few weeks he had been living rough on the streets. He’d had to learn how to survive quickly since he ‘left’ home and he wasn’t doing too well.  Opportunities to find food, shelter and safety weren’t as easy to come by as he had hoped they would be. In fact, he hadn’t had a decent meal or a place to stay since he’d slammed the door and swore at that drunken bitch… his mother.

Recently, his home life had deteriorated badly, he’d been expelled from school because of his mounting violent streak, he fought against any form of authority, he hated the world and everyone in it and he needed to get OUT. However, living rough was even worse. When he wasn’t being offered drugs, he was the victim of those desperate drug addicts who saw him as an easy target. He carried the cuts and bruises to prove it as he was no match against the rougher element he met. His stomach ached with hunger and he urgently needed to get some money and this smart, swanky, well-to-do guy appeared to have loads.

He’d begged for money in the past but people either took no notice, as if he didn’t exist or worse, screamed abuse at him for daring to ask for help. The only way he’d found that was effective was to threaten, then he was listened to and the sharp 8” blade he now carried certainly got most people’s attention. He waved it at the BMW owner and demanded money but his threat was swiftly countered by a speedy kick from the man that sent the knife spinning through the air and a follow up kick to the would-be mugger’s head that knocked him to the ground. It all happened so fast that Rob didn’t know what hit him until he regained consciousness… then things really began to get weird.

Forty year-old Mark Thompson is a man who knows what he wants. He left school and university with an armful of top class awards, flourished quickly in his specialised field and found the demanding intensity of his martial arts programme the perfect way to relax, keep fit and stay alert. In the dark he hadn’t realised the age of his assailant, all he saw was a body rushing towards him and a fleeting glimpse of a steely pointed object being jabbed in his direction. His training took over and in a nanosecond the would-be assassin was dropped to the ground unconscious. As he checked the prone body he realised that the youth lying at his feet was in need of some treatment. He reached down and easily picked up the grubby, thin urchin and carried him to his apartment just a few yards away.

The boy was filthy. His clothes were torn and tattered whilst the bruises and cuts on his hands and face made Mark wonder what the poor little guy had been through recently (apart from a kick to the head that is). He got the lad into his home and started to inspect the comatose body now he had light to see just what his injuries were. He removed the lad’s thin jacket and t-shirt and saw that there was a very bad, festering cut on his arm that appeared to have gone untreated for some time. He removed the boy’s trainers and jeans and saw that he was just a mass of bruises and, strangely perhaps, he felt sorry for his would-be mugger. The boy was still out for the count so Mark called a friend of his who was a doctor and asked him to come around and check the boy out. He arrived minutes later from an apartment in the same block just as Mark had finished trying to wipe as much grime away as possible and the lad was beginning to regain consciousness.

Although not fully compos mentis Rob realised that something was going on and he was being touched… so he lashed out. Although there was hardly any force to the blow he managed to cuff the doctor at the side of his head and was about to throw another punch when Mark grabbed his arms and pinned him down. Despite being naked and having little strength he tried to fight back and break away from his captives. Alas, he was no match for them and a quick injection from the doctor calmed him down and he drifted off into unconsciousness again.

Once he’d gotten over the brief commotion Paul, the doctor, carried out his examination and treated the bruises and cuts on the pale thin body as best he could. His diagnosis was more malnutrition than any great injury but recommended that the large cut on the boy’s arm was kept under scrutiny for any infection. He gave the boy various injections that would help him recover and suggested that Paul feed the lad up before letting him go… or call the police… or do whatever he was going to do with his young attacker.

“He’ll be out for about 12 hours,” the doctor informed Mark. “So, is there anything else… or can I get back to Little Liam? I left him sitting in front of the TV watching the Cartoon Channel.” He saw Mark’s raised eyebrows, “Yes again,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders, “it’s his favourite.” Before he left Mark asked Paul to check to see if the lad had been sexually abused. Paul checked the boy’s anus and said that it was inflamed and torn and he reckoned that the lad must have been the subject of a vicious attack, and had probably been raped… and perhaps more than once was his diagnosis. Mark sighed “Poor little fellow.”

Mark looked down at the lad once more and began to wonder what had driven this sorry looking soul to this point. He was even worried that if he threw him out and back onto the streets, the boy would be an easy victim of some unscrupulous druggies or bullies. He wondered what he could do to help; after all, he was a trained (and rather expensive) behavioural psychologist, perhaps he could help sort the lad out. As he speculated he suddenly became aware of a strong aroma and gathered that the boy had just urinated onto his leather sofa. He quickly grabbed the nearest thing to hand to mop it up, which led to the lad’s thin t-shirt, pants and jeans soon soaked with stinking piss. 

Rob was unaware of what had happened as Mark took these smelly objects and tossed them into the washing machine. Then he realised he couldn’t leave the lad naked so went off to find something to cover him with. Mindful that he needed to protect his sofa from any further accidents he found a large towel and some safety pins. Returning to the sleeping boy he fitted it like a diaper around the lad’s waist. Whilst pulling the towel up between the lad’s legs and fastening it tightly a sudden shiver ran down Mark’s spine. He caught his breath at this moment of recognition.

His mind catapulted him back to the last time he’d done this - it was during his final exams in his last year of senior school. A huge trauma had recently affected Mark and he remembered waking up some mornings to find he’d unconsciously wet the bed. The trauma had been the dramatic death of his father in an explosion at the chemical plant where he worked, which had killed 17 others and had devastating consequences to all concerned. Finding he’d wet the bed at his age was another upset he found difficult to deal with and although he and his mother were very close, he didn’t want to burden her at this time with what he saw as a ‘stupid childish’ problem.

Each night he’d diaper himself with a towel just in case he wet again and every morning he’d wake to find it soaked but on the plus side… at least the bed and bedding were reasonably dry. The pressure of exams and the death of his loving father, who had encouraged him to do well and to work hard, had ultimately had a distressing effect. He wanted his dad to be proud of him so worked exceptionally hard to pass his exams. The hours he put in to revision, the empty loss he felt inside, the sadness he could only imagine his mother was going through, all just built and built until it found some kind of release. It was just over a week that he’d been diapering himself when his mom found out.

It was early one Monday morning when she entered his bedroom to wake him and found him sat on the edge of his bed in the soaked makeshift diaper. His youthful looks were etched with anguish as he shrugged not even trying to hide his obvious shame. She hugged her bed-wetting son and told him that he shouldn’t have to carry that worry on his own as she was there for him… for anything… and everything. Between them they would meet head on and solve any problem that came up.  They had always been close and, like when his dad was alive, there were few secrets in this loving family.

 He was relieved that he didn’t have to pretend to her anymore and, as she sat beside him, both cried in their mutual sorrow. Once the tears were almost dried up she asked if he needed any help with his diapers. Apart from the soggy one, which at that moment was hanging heavily between his legs, he wasn’t sure what she meant. He gave a side-long look at his sympathetic mother and asked if she was offering to change him.

She giggled, relieving what could have been a tense situation, and put her hand to her mouth as if she’d said something really stupid. They both laughed. “If I thought you needed it, of course I would, but you seem to be coping OK.” She looked into his eyes reassuringly. “But,” and she looked down at the sagging diaper, “don’t forget the other things… you don’t want to be getting a diaper rash at your age.” She paused to check he was still OK with what she was saying, “What I meant was, do you need me to get you anything?” He realised she was correct… it had all been a bit haphazard. He hadn’t been taking care of that side of his diaper hygiene, just having a shower then dressing for school… and his crotch and bum were raw and beginning to itch.

His mom bought him some more appropriate disposables, plastic pants and assorted lotions and powders, it was like when he was a kid again and she loved the diversion from her own problems. One evening when Mark was getting ready for bed and applying his night time protection his mum came in and asked him if he recalled that he went through a similar period of bed-wetting when he was four. He remembered but, perhaps surprisingly, not in a negative way… it had all been so normal. She told him that he’d been potty-trained for two years when, just before he started school, he started to wet again. “Stress,” she said as if it was the answer, “you were very scared of leaving me and going to school.”

His mom went on to tell him about the fun she and his father had with diapering their slightly older, but still little scamp as he played. “Wearing a diaper never stopped you doing anything. You never seemed to worry about it.” Indeed, from the moment it had been suggested that he needed to go back into diapers to save the bedding and loads of washing, he seemed to accept it. His dad was determined that he shouldn’t get distressed by being back in a diaper so had gone out of his way to be positive when his son was wearing them. This was partly due to the fact that he had also wet the bed as a child and his father, Mark’s grandfather, had given his own son such a horrible time about it; ridiculing and chastising him all the time. Mark’s dad was determined that if that type of misfortune should happen to his own son he would never be made to feel guilty about it.

In fact, his dad, and mom to a certain degree, had loved having their 4 year-old baby back. They loved him scampering around the house in just a diaper and it never bothered young Mark because he was always being told it was normal as it was no more than just another style of underwear. The truth was that both his parents had loved his sweet little padded butt getting into all the things a 4 year-old got into. His dad had made it into a game for Mark and bought special plastic covers for his son’s diapers. Soon the little imp was running around in brightly coloured pants, that although made the padding thicker, didn’t seem to hinder his ability, or confidence, in getting around.

At school there was no difficulty as he wasn’t the only one still in diapers and while at home, he seemed to prefer to wear little else. Even though it started as just a night time precaution, Mark was often up and dressed first thing in a morning before his parents and he’d have fastened himself into a diaper for the day… no matter what he was doing or where he was going. Both his mom and dad thought this was the cutest thing and Mark himself seemed to love each new design that was slipped over his diaper… often choosing the colour and pattern that his dad offered him each day. He wore all that extra padding from 4 years until he was almost eight, when, after a stay-over by his friend Danny, he had asked his mom to buy him some big boy pants for when he started school again. Although his parents were sad that their little boy had grown up, they didn’t want to keep him dressed that way if he it made him unhappy.

As his mum told him this story, parts of that time came flooding back to him and he remembered it as a period when he had never been happier. There was a great deal of loving attention from both his mom and dad and he recalled the constant picking up and hugging by them both. “We just loved patting your thick diapered butt.” His mom had said with a reminiscing smile, “and you… well you’d never seemed more content”. 

Suddenly those words struck him “never more content” and he knew exactly what he could do with his young, would-be assailant. His mind was suddenly dazzled with the possibility of this new enterprise. As the boy slept on oblivious of the thoughts that were now so appealing to Mark, the psychologist regretted chucking the lad’s clothing into the wash. As the final spin-cycle came to a stop he realised that any clues to his identity would probably have been washed away. The damp bundle of clothes revealed nothing at all. In fact, only the boy’s jeans appeared to have held together, the rest had simply dissolved to mere bits and pieces not even fit for rags. Finding out any information about the boy was now down to what he was prepared to reveal.  He wasn’t sure if this would be a problem but looking down on the lad, wrapped in such a thick diaper, he thought it all might be worth the effort.  He had this grand plan developing in his head as he slipped upstairs to his doctor friend to tell him about his intentions and to borrow some items that he thought would come in useful.

***tbc***

Part 2

Whilst Rob was sleeping off the sedative Mark was busy organising the lad’s immediate future. He borrowed some essential items from Paul who had used them himself for Little Liam’s benefit but were now no longer needed. He also asked Paul, who was excited about Mark’s plan, to keep an eye on the comatose boy whilst he went to his office to collect a few more things that he thought might be needed for the next part of the young lad’s ‘development’. Once he assembled everything he returned home and checked that Rob was still very much out of it.

He checked his diaper to see if he had had any further accidents and was pleased to see that all was clean and dry. However, he was still quite dirty from the time living rough so Mark prepared a bath.  He stripped the boy and applied some hair removal lotion around his dick and balls, not that there was much to be seen but Mark was convinced that this was an area that lice and other nasty’s liked to reside. Once the strange smelling cream had done its job and the area wiped free of any pubic hair he immersed him in the warming bubbles and set about scrubbing the lad clean. Whilst in the bath he checked for dreaded head lice, then used a pair of clippers gave him a short haircut before drying him off and dressing him as he thought appropriate.

First he applied the soothing lotion and then baby powdered to the newly hair-free areas before fastening him into a clean and very thick disposable diaper. Next he added a pair of clear plastic pants because, if the boy had another accident, he didn’t want the diaper to leak all over his expensive furnishings.  Finally he secured the lad in a strait jacket so he could offer no physical violence, although, when he came too, he may well have things to express verbally about his new found situation.

However, to be on the safe side, Mark had a ball gag to stop that if things got too noisy or out of hand. He wanted the boy to know he was safe, although he realised that it may not look that way to begin with, but he needed to protect himself from any unforeseen reaction. He kept telling himself that his main aim was to reassure the lad of his ‘honest’ intentions, even though those real intentions were still forming in his head. However, having talked to his friend Paul on the subject, and from what he knew from past patients, it was important to keep Rob ‘off-centre’ for as long as possible. He couldn’t know what the ultimate plan was as Mark knew there would be open hostilities about it.  

He wasn’t sure which way to play it as he wanted the lad to feel safe but in no doubt that his present situation was controlled and decided by someone else… in this case… him. Mark hoped that by Rob wearing such babyish clothing he might not be so aggressive and realise that demanding to leave, dressed as he was, would be both embarrassing and have ‘consequences’.  Mark was going to be friendly and understanding but an authority figure… well, that was how he hoped he’d appear.

The psychologist had been able to obtain the diapers and plastic pants (as well as other childish items and clothing) from Paul, who was Daddy to Little Liam, a twenty year-old man who had lived as a toddler for the past five years. Liam had developed a passion for wearing diapers as a teenager when his family began to break up. Shy, unassuming and not overly blessed with confidence in the first place, he retreated to a time when all was pleasant and people were benevolent… and being well-padded gave him that feeling of protection and safety.

At one of his many visits to his family physician he’d confessed his cravings for being treated as a baby and how it made him feel. Paul, the young, handsome doctor he’d confessed to listened and, to Liam’s undying relief, understood. The doctor had felt sorry for the cute, bewildered and sad looking youth so had obliged him with a place to live out his babyish desires. Paul knew that others might not understand what was happening but, delving back into his own troubled childhood, he liked the idea of looking after a toddler and had to admit that, after their first session together, he was hooked on being as real a daddy as possible to his now ‘Little’ Liam.

The boy’s tightly padded bum was a constant delight and the eagerness to happily wear and play in just a diaper or onesie gave Liam all the security he felt he needed.  Paul encouraged this total dependency by buying him other childish clothes and soft toys. They watched cartoons together, coloured in books and built Lego and it wasn’t long before Liam fell in love with his new daddy and wanted to be regressed permanently to being a little boy… Daddy’s little boy.  

As a teen baby and a diaper lover was something they both loved and enjoyed, it seemed a perfect match as their time together was one of happiness and trust. It didn’t happen overnight, for the first two of those five years Liam was a teenager who occasionally wore diapers, although the need to wear them more and more was gaining strength with every session he had with the doctor. Hypnosis and constant reaffirming of the confused teen’s toddler status resulted in the fact that, for the past three years, Paul and Liam had been happy living together as daddy and young son.

As a youth Paul had entertained similar yearnings but they hadn’t developed the way Liam’s had. Those early desires the doctor had buried deep in his anxious past were ultimately reawakened and both enjoyed playing their part. He was so pleased when Liam entered his life with a problem that he didn’t see as a problem but a gift, that they immediately became involved and satisfied each other’s requirements. Nothing gave Paul more pleasure than seeing the lad in a thick diaper, covered with glossy waterproof protecting pants, as he scuttled around the house at play. His well-padded bottom became a significant part of what made him who he was, whilst making the overall visual aspect something special as he enthusiastically assumed all the babyish and toddler inspired gifts that Paul heaped upon him.

The complete reliance and constant wearing of the thick diaper reinforced the boy’s status as a child; a young, helpless toddler who had to be dressed and even had to be changed. The powerful bond between the two was further enforced by the intimacy of those regular diaper changes. Little Liam’s colourful and childish clothing may have made other people wonder but for him, it was where he wanted to be; a happy and giggling baby with a loving daddy and without a care in the world.

However, Paul had work to do and Liam, now totally regressed, couldn’t be left on his own so the doctor set about finding others who had similar young toddlers or shared the same interests. Thankfully, in a large city such as theirs there were plenty of others. Some were like Liam, permanent toddlers, while others just had an interest in being adult babies or having an appreciation for wearing diapers… all loved living in a ‘little’ world where they were protected and cared for without any judgement.

In fact, there were so many who were of that inclination that Paul and Mark decided to set up, and finance, a daytime crèche where they could all meet up and play together. Under the supervision of two older ladies, former nurses and retired friends of Paul’s, who just loved looking after their ‘big ‘little’ kids’, it meant that the ‘infant’s’ mummies and daddies could go out to work as normal and their little charges were looked after until collected. The crèche became a focal point for the ABDL community and often there were ten or twelve ‘youngsters’ being looked after on a daily basis. On special occasions, ABDLs from all over the country would descend on the crèche or go on outings and events that the group organised. It was an opportunity for the toddlers to have some fun mixing and playing with new friends, though for the grown-ups it was a chance to exchange thoughts and ideas about their little ones.

Mark wanted something similar from this new ‘gift’ that had tried to attack him. He was envious of the loving relationship between Paul and Liam but had never taken that envy to any other stage. He’d appreciated that side of his personality, the one that wanted to have a child of his own but always professed to being too busy for it to happen. However, he convinced himself that the lad had been sent to him for a reason… and that reason he could now see most clearly. Still, the new life he hoped to give the boy; now cleaned, tidy and dressed as he was… was perhaps all he could hope for. Yet, the boy looked younger, cuter and appeared to be even more appropriate for the process that the psychologist now envisaged. 

He wanted to delve into the boy’s background and free up any bad experiences or traumas that may have led him to the situation he was in at the moment; a young tearaway with little or no real way of dealing with a harsh and often cruel world. He wanted his own ‘Little Liam’ as he’d seen what joy the regressed toddler had brought to his friend: Images of the two young babies/toddlers playing together, dressed in their cartoon onesies or crawling around in just their well-padded diapers, raced through Mark’s mind and really appealed to his blossoming paternal feelings.

Unfortunately, there was one possible draw back… how could he get the boy to agree to his ideas. The diapers were an integral part of his plan. It made the wearer dependant, whilst instilling his juvenile status upon the boy. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell the lad his overall strategy, just the bits about trying to help him come to terms with his anger and his homeless situation. Mark knew that if there was an agreement from him to change, then the battle would be half won, so he had to get the lad onside as soon as possible. He wanted to offer him hope and options but at the front of his mind he was also wondering what he would do if his would-be baby rebelled against any form of ‘help’.

Mark was now completely obsessed with the idea of having his own ‘needy’ little boy. He knew his desire could possibly lead to complications but was determined to at least try. He wouldn’t have been the first psychologist to use his skill to get what he wanted from a patient. To train an easily receptive brain to do something different from the norm and become a vassal to the whims of the doctor. An interesting concept… however, Mark hoped for a better outcome than that. The words of his mother were always at the forefront of his mind: “You’d never seemed more content” and he hoped to be able to give the boy the same feeling of serenity. 

As Rob slowly came round from the best and deepest sleep he’d enjoyed for many years he could hear soft, relaxing music playing in the background. He wasn’t sure where he was but things felt vague and strange as he became more and more conscious and aware of his surroundings. He could feel that his arms were trapped in some way and became further alarmed to the fact that there was a figure sat in front of him. Mark had subdued the lighting so most of the room was in shadow and only a dim light fell around the now fully awake boy. As he wriggled to release the restrictions holding him hostage, panic quickly replaced that deep sense of sleep and he began to scream and shout out for help. Mark quickly tried to calm him; reaching out and hushing him, trying to soothe away the panic by softly speaking to the scared little kid in front of him. Thankfully, he didn’t need the ball-gag, which he realised would have sent the wrong message. Eventually, as he had no real option, Rob calmed down and listened to what the man said. He wasn’t sure who he was but he looked a vaguely familiar.

“Where am I?” Rob demanded angrily. “What do you want?” Mark smiled now he had the lad’s attention and happily explained what had happened. 

“You attacked me…” He let his word sink in. “You came at me with a knife and I thought I was going to die.” He thought that if Rob understood he was only protecting himself he wouldn’t be as scared as he was at that moment. “Luckily I managed to disarm you and render you unconscious before any real harm was done.” Rob had no memory of this particular incident at all and shook his head, “Oh,” was his response. “Once I realised I’d knocked you out I couldn’t leave you in the street, so I brought you in here and got a doctor to check you over”. Rob nodded trying to recall just what had gone on. “Unfortunately, as he was checking on your cuts and bruises… you attacked him also…” he waved his hand gesturing towards the strait jacket, “that’s why I have put you in that… I don’t know how violent you might get again.”

Rob was listening and trying his best to make some sense of his actions but couldn’t. “Erm… I’m sorry… I don’t remember… er…”  Mark let him think on things for a few seconds. Rob became aware of his lack of clothes. “Where the hell are my pants?” He caught sight of his groin. “What the fuck am I doing in these fucking things…?” And he looked in disgust at his diaper and plastic pants. “Relax,” Mark tried to reassure him, “you pissed and shit yourself.” He let the words sink in. “You were a mess. Your clothing stunk. You stunk. The doctor couldn’t see all your bruises because of the filth… so I just cleaned you up. This was all I had that…” Rob was angry and frustrated. “Why?” 

Although he couldn’t remember attacking the man sat in front of him, his memory of the past few weeks came flooding back. He recollected angrily leaving home and his first night on the streets. He painfully relived the fact that his few possessions and what little money was in his pockets had all been stolen by some men who beat him up without a second thought and left him bleeding, hurting and with nothing. He only had what he stood up in, torn and scruffy though they were he was lucky to still have them as he went looking for help. No one wanted to know.

He couldn’t return home, not after the things he’d called his mother (and she’d screamed back at him) and he had no friends or relatives he could count on. He was afraid and alone but he had to survive. On the second night, three druggies had caught up with him and offered him some pills. He told them he had no money but they just said it didn’t matter and gave them to him anyway. He wanted to escape from the situation he’d found himself in and here at last were people who understood his predicament. He quickly swallowed the offered drugs before they changed their minds. He was offered a place to crash out and invited back to their hovel and it was there, as he slipped into a chemical feeling of euphoria, that he was raped.

Although he was high it was still fucking painful. All night the three took turns at his young virgin arse… so while he screamed and cried, they laughed and fucked. Eventually, they fell asleep and he was left with a bleeding arse full of cum and with his hands tied to a metal pipe. He couldn’t get free and when they woke up, they got high and, laughing like hyenas, fucked him all over again… before throwing him out.

Everything ached and hurt and he hated the world. He was starving but no one offered any help at all. After what he’d just endured he was scared of people, worried that all they would do was abuse him, so he kept away from others. He managed to survive picking up scraps where and when he could and sleeping anywhere there wasn’t anyone else. He was desperately afraid but knew he couldn’t go back home. That was nearly four, scary weeks ago and he was starving. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal for… well… he was trying hard to remember when the man still talking asked if he liked pizza. He returned from his agonising memories and realised he hadn’t heard much of what the man had said but the offer of food had suddenly jolted his mind. He nodded and wriggled on his thickly padded butt.

***tbc***

 

Part 3

The full enormity of his plight suddenly hit the young lad and from nowhere he started to cry. Not just sobs but a huge roar of pain that welled up inside of him and found an outlet through a heart-rending sound that brought Mark urgently back from the kitchen. Tears were cascading down the boy’s face and Mark did the only thing he thought might help, he sat by his side, put his arm around his shoulders and hugged him. Rob didn’t try to pull away. Such was the enormity of his inner grief that he needed something, someone to care. He buried his tearful head against Mark’s firm stomach and let the emotional pain wrack his body until he could cry no more.

Fifteen minutes later and Rob had finally cried as much as he could. The front of Mark’s shirt was sopping wet but he didn’t mind, he was just glad he was there to at least give some comfort to the troubled lad. The red-eyed boy looked up at Mark not really knowing what to expect but was surprised to see a sympathetic and understanding face looking back. “Let’s get you some food… you’ll feel a lot better.” Mark walked to the kitchen as Rob began to feel… safe. It was a strange sensation. He’d attacked this man, attacked a doctor who was trying to help and yet, in all the time he’s been on the streets, and not forgetting his hated and drunken mother, this was the only time in his life he felt…  someone cared.

Mark slowly fed Rob chunks of pizza and let him drink juice from a child’s sippy cup (he hadn’t wanted an irate lad spilling the liquid all over the place and causing a mess). Rob was still in the strait jacket but he seemed to have come to terms with why this was necessary. He wanted to tell this kind man that he was sorry but was so hungry that apologies would have to wait until his belly was full. He didn’t even mind drinking like a little kid from the non-spill sippy cup that was occasionally pushed towards his lips. In fact, he was quite enjoying the attention and began to wriggle quite contentedly in his diaper. The man really did seem to care but, at the back of Rob’s mind he knew that he couldn’t really trust anyone, there’s always payment in one form or another… his sore and bleeding arse a few weeks earlier had been testament to that fact. However, he was in no position to do much about any demands made on him at that moment so decided to stay alert, bide his time and eat.

Once the pizza was all gone Mark began to ask Rob some questions. He made it clear that he wanted the truth and not some made-up mumbo jumbo and that he’d be able to tell if he was lying.

“What’s your name?”

Rob didn’t think this was a bad question and could see no reason not to give the correct response. “Rob”.

“Hello Rob… I’m Doctor Thompson. How old are you?”

Now then the questions were getting trickier “18”, he blurted out.

“I thought I said no lying,” he shook his head a little to show a sense of disapproval. “Why not try again.”

“16”.

Shaking his head a little more he said, “Let’s try one more time… and this time Rob… please don’t lie, there really is no need.”

“14”, as his eyes darted to the floor in embarrassment, Mark knew he had the real answer.

“OK fourteen year-old Rob… we have some decisions to make. What are we going to do with you?”

Rob wriggled nervously in the thick padding between his legs unable to look at this man who had been so kind, but who now was going to ‘do’ something with him. Despite his agitation all he could do was wait and see what this doctor man had in mind.

“Listen up Rob, these are your options. You decide and we’ll work from then on.” Fucking hell, Rob thought, I’m getting to choose. He wasn’t sure he’d like the options but at least he was going to be given a choice.

“Firstly, now you seem OK and fed, you can leave immediately.” Rob liked the sound of that. “Unfortunately, once the restraint has been removed, you’ll have to leave just as you are. Your clothing fell apart in the wash and other than what you are wearing, that’s it.” Rob was less happy with that. “I don’t feel I need to be further responsible seeing as you attacked me and I’ve done all I can to make… “

“What other options do I have?” Rob interrupted, wanting to know all his options before he could commit but didn’t want a lecture in between.

“I can call the police.” Rob disliked that idea even more. “You are underage and I can say that I found you unconscious outside, tried my best to revive you and, as I and a friend are doctors, didn’t feel the need to send you immediately to hospital.” He paused to let his words sink in. “It will be up to you whether I mention the attempted knife assault but… the CCTV coverage outside the building should offer substantiation if needed.”

Rob gulped at this piece of evidence he hadn’t even thought about but was trying to think fast although he still wasn’t happy with these options. “Are there any other options?”

“Well, my final option is this.” He went and looked Rob straight in the eyes. “You can stay with me.” He saw the look of horror flash into Rob’s eyes. “Before you panic, let me explain. I don’t want you for sex. I know, from the doctor’s examination that you have had a terrible experience and that isn’t what I want… or expect.” The nervous wriggling got worse and he was desperate to run somewhere, anywhere he wasn’t sure but the doctor hadn’t finished with his options. “I can see you are nervous but let me tell you what I am proposing and then you can pick your own preference.” Rob’s anxiety hadn’t lessened and the padded sensation was now not helping. He felt trapped and knew he would have to agree to something he really didn’t want to do to get out of this mess.

Mark continued trying to put the panic stricken lad at ease. “I’m a psychologist and I am doing work in the area of problem behaviour and psychosocial development. I would like to work with you, and have you as one of my test subjects.”

Rob didn’t understand any of that and his blank expression conveyed that back to Mark. “Let me explain. What that means is that you let me…” he nearly said probe, “talk to you and find out what makes a young guy like you… tick.” Rob still wasn’t convinced. “There is no denying that you have, or are having… problems… maybe at home, at school, with friends…”

“With everyone.” Rob interrupted.

“I see,” said Mark, “well perhaps you can help me understand these problems that you have, and in so doing,” he was trying to keep it simple, “help other kids your age.” He waited a few seconds to let his word take hold. “By me understanding you… it might lead to understanding others like you.” He paused again. “You would be helping…”

“What would I have to do?”

“Well, I’d need to know a little more about your circumstances. We can do that in sessions where you come to my office and we chat and try out other ways of digging into your psyche.”

“My what?”

“It’s just a term for your mind... what makes you tick, what upsets you... what…”

“My fucking mother.” He spat out with venom that surprised Mark.

“Ah. Then I suppose you won’t want to return home.”

“No fucking way.” He was adamant. “I’d rather sit here in this diaper with you than go back.”  

Mark quickly seized the opportunity. “OK, then that’s you final option. You stay with me and I’ll make the arrangements to have you as a patient.”

Rob didn’t know what to say. He’d only said it to show his contempt for his mother and hadn’t expected such a response. Mark was quick to follow through. “So, just as you have said, the final option is… you stay with me as a patient. Exactly as you have said… wearing…” he waved his hand towards Rob, “and I will look after all your needs but… and it is a big but… you must not be violent. If you fight me, or anyone else, I will turn you out as you are and not think twice about it.” Mark had put his stern, matter-of-fact, don’t argue face on and it was having an effect on Rob.

Rob surveyed his diaper and strait jacket. “I can’t live like this.”

“Why not? You lived the first part of your life like that… being fed and dressed.  Regard it as a re-birth… a second chance.” Rob looked quizzically at Mark. “Look, apart from me and any other doctors at the hospital I need to include in my research, no one will know… and they are used to seeing people dressed in the same…”

“WHAT.” Rob interrupted, “Will I not be staying here with you?” He began to squirm nervously again. “I… I… erm…”

“Well my research should be under clinical conditions…” he could see Rob begin to get agitated and tears sprung into the corner of his eyes. “OK, here’s what I will do. If I can get clearance to have you as an inpatient and say I’d get better observational results from you being with me, I might be able to swing it. How does that sound?” If he could have Rob would have flung his arms around Mark and begged him to let him stay and he’d do anything if that could happen. Rob’s body language said it all and Mark knew he had got the boy just where he wanted him. He was agreeing to change, or at least be helped to change and that was a huge step. He wanted the boy to feel safe, secure and to trust him so he stroked his hair and told him not to worry as no harm would ever come to him again. Mark’s heart was singing with the possibilities that he could now imagine but knew that there might be some obstacles along the way. Rob wasn’t sure he quite understood what was being proposed or whether he could go through with all this psycho gibberish but, at that moment, he saw it as his best option. After all, he was going to be off the street, not at home, fed and looked after and all he had to do was… talk to this psychologist.

Mark brought up the subject of Rob’s parents… the reaction was loud and hostile. The lad was more than a little agitated and screamed he didn’t want anything to do with that “Fucking woman” and angrily said that he’d run away if he was sent back or she had anything more to do with him. Mark explained that as he was underage he would need some kind of signed release so that Rob would be under his supervision and, if his mum agreed to it, legally Mark would be responsible for him. He took some convincing but eventually Rob gave up his old address but was still worried he’d be returned to the woman who may have given him life but who he now hated with a passion.

***tbc***

Part 4

Doctor Mark Thompson looked very officious when he arrived at Rob’s ex home. It was a messy, ill-kempt apartment in a very rundown tenement block. His knock was eventually answered by a woman who matched her surroundings perfectly; scruffy, drunk (at 10am), angry and annoyed at being disturbed by this “up himself doctor”. He could see why Rob had wanted to get away and the woman seemed not to care about herself, never mind her only child. Mark persevered with his questions but found the woman’s attitude very aggressive. She appeared to despise him for being a man and seemed only too glad to give someone else the responsibility of her “nasty little shit of a son”. Mark told her he needed her signature and his birth certificate to make things legal and after much argument she eventually found the required official registration of Rob’s birth in a tatty chocolate box under a pile of old photographs.

The psychologist observed that there were a couple of shots that had a family of three looking toward the camera. They were smiling and appeared happy. The young, pretty woman was unmistakeably a version of the bloated, foul-mouthed, harridan now sprawled on the sofa in front of him and the tiny baby might be Rob but he wondered who the man was. “Your husband?”  He queried, not sure of the reaction his question might get.  She laughed in a vicious spiteful way. ”Hardly… a cunt more like. A self-centred little shit… like father… like his fucking son.” The hate was etched on her face as she spat out her anger at them both.  It was obvious from her resentment that the wedding never happened.  She pointed to herself in the picture. “I used to be pretty,” she nodded as if to confirm that fact as the photo showed a slim and happy young woman.  “Oh yes... but both those fucking cunts drained me of everything…” She reached for the almost empty bottle of cheap wine on the coffee table and poured what was left in to her half-empty glass. Once sure the bottle was really empty she continued to rile on about the injustices heaped on her since her partner had left when Rob was barely three years old. Her pain wasn’t just aimed at the man who had betrayed her love… as she raged about her ‘fuckwit boy’ who, through no fault of hers, had turned into the same unthinking, passion-draining cunt like his father. She went on for over an hour but in the end, she signed the papers and Mark left more enlightened as to how young Rob had ended up the way he had.

When he returned Rob was just where he left him, sat in front of the TV watching some old movie. Mark couldn’t get over how damn sweet and innocent he looked wearing just his diaper and plastic pants.  However, armed with what he knew now, his heart went out to the boy’s past suffering but…  even this real empathy couldn’t detract from the obvious fact that… a thick diaper on this particular teenager made him not only look cute, but  vulnerable and helpless. It was also true that visually, although it accentuated that particular area, the thick fabric removed any notion of genitalia, made the lad sexless and, like a child, playful without any sexual undertones.  Having said that, it was also true that, as his doctor friend Paul had mentioned in many of their past conversations, a padded bottom was like a magnet and all you could do was admire it and give it gentle pat as it went past. The fact that the bulky object underlined the notion that the lad was still just a weak little kid who needed all the protection he could get was weighing heavily on Mark’s mind. He wasn’t a baby and the fact that at 14, Rob was sure to be a sexual teenager with his own needs and frustrations worried him and was an area of sexual consideration. He questioned his own motives and, like Paul, came up with the desire only to have a constant ‘little’ companion. He knew that others wanted their ‘littles’ for other purposes. He couldn’t pretend that people will have their own interpretation of keeping a young lad as a baby but Mark had convinced himself he was only doing it for Rob. He desperately wanted him to know again the pleasure of being with someone who doted on and loved him. There was something wonderfully appealing of having a lad dressed as a toddler. The image stirred his heart more than his loins but there was no denying that the attraction on several levels was indeed very powerful.  However, this only made his desire and determination more intense and he just wanted to guard the boy from further harm. One way to change that immediately was to remove the strait jacket.  It was both cumbersome and uncomfortable… and it would display a level of the trust he had in the boy.

Rob looked up as he entered the room not really knowing what to expect but, strangely, very glad to see the psychologist again. Mark waved a piece of paper in the air and told him that he was legally now his responsibility, however, he could suddenly see the boy struggling to know how to react. Basically his mum had just disowned him but at the same time, even in the short time it had been, he’d got to like this man who was trying his best to make his life better. He liked that someone cared.  He decided he’d do his best to help anyway he could so, when the doctor suggested a change of clothes, he happily agreed, which was just as well really as he had messed his diaper a few hours earlier. He guiltily looked up at Mark and told him that he’d had an accident. Mark smiled, rubbed his hand on the top of the lad’s newly shorn head and told him not to worry, that was exactly what a diaper was for. However, he couldn’t help but check that the plastic pants had done their job and prevented any leaks onto his expensive furniture. Relieved that all was well, he patted the boy’s full padded bottom and aimed him towards the bathroom.

Unfastened from the strait jacket Rob did something quite unexpected, he threw his arms around the psychologist, hugged him tightly and started to cry. Taken by surprise at this turn of events Mark could only respond the same way. He was overcome at the lad’s emotions and soothed him with gentle stroking and whispered words of encouragement. Eventually, Rob calmed himself and slowly eased away from the doctor, his red eyes and the streaks of his tears a testimony to his true feelings. Mark held the boy out at arms-length for a good look and told him that from that point on no one was going to harm his little boy again. The fact that he said ‘his’ didn’t appear to register with Rob, who slowly shimmied out of his plastic pants aware that there was another problem brewing. The smell was very apparent; Rob looking guilty and embarrassed, whilst Mark was holding his nose in a mock horror kind of way.  Both began to laugh as Mark released the tabs on the diaper and let it fall to the floor with a sodden thud. Rob climbed into the shower and Mark washed the boy thoroughly.

Back in the spare bedroom, which would from then on be Rob’s Room, Mark fished out another disposable…

“Do I have to wear that?” The question wasn’t as angry as the last time but one that showed he was resigned to doing things he really would rather not. “Can’t I wear some of your old clothes?”

Mark smiled. “Perhaps we can sort something out later… but right now… this and a onesie are all I’ve got that will fit.” Rob was looking grumpy at the situation. “Besides…” and he let the lad think on his words, “our deal was… and I quote… I’d rather sit here in this diaper with you than go back.”  Rob knew he had no argument to that so reluctantly let Mark lotion, powder him (to prevent diaper rash he explained) before applying the thing tightly to the slim, naked groin that was now so perfectly bereft of hair and looking sweetly boyish. All the fuss and bother meant that Rob nearly got an erection, which would have been awkward for them both but the swiftness of the ‘diaper operation’ made the boy’s sudden visible excitement quickly disappear under the tightly packed thick fabric. Deftly, Mark added a clean pair of rubber pants to cover it all. Rob felt silly, he wanted to rebel but… and this was a very strange thing to think at that moment… the impenetrable padding actually felt really warm and comfortable.  While he was thinking about that, Mark slipped a clean t-shirt over his head as a finishing touch. Once it was fitted Mark gave Rob a choice… as there were no plans at that moment to go anywhere, he could wear just what he had on or he could put on the new pajamas, which was really one of Liam’s old onesies, over it all. Rob was already feeling nice and warm so decided he’d just put up with what he was now wearing. To begin with the bulky diaper took a bit of getting used to when walking around. It felt huge between his legs but he soon got used to it and he didn’t even notice that the t-shirt had a cartoon dinosaur print, something that he would never have worn as it looked just too childish. However, as he sat back in front of the TV the cartoon channel was on and he sat giggling along to the antics of several colourful characters. His substantial diaper held him tightly and bizarrely he found comfort in the snugness of the fit and the smoothness of the rubber protecting pants. When Mark came in with his tippy tumbler full of warm milk, he took it and sat drinking with barely a thought to how it all looked. Soon, with the milk all gone, he snuggled up in the crook of this wonderful man’s arm feeling completely secure.

Mark was beside himself on how well things were going. Indeed, he hadn’t had to do anything to get the lad into the relaxed and accepting state he was already in. The boy’s laughter as he watched TV was a tonic and he appeared to have accepted his new role surprisingly quickly. After Rob had been watching the TV for an hour the psychologist suggested that perhaps it was time for them to begin their real first session. He took him back to his bedroom, pulled the curtains and made everything dark. He turned on some relaxing music and lit a pleasant smelling candle. He also projected a slowly spinning optical image onto the ceiling and asked his relaxed patient to concentrate on it. “Just listen to my voice.” His words came slowly, carefully measured. “Concentrate on the swirling image as you slowly drift off.” He couldn’t help himself as he stroked the boy’s brow. He also couldn’t get over how bloody fantastic the boy was when he was happy and relaxed. Both of them seemed to be enjoying the moment as Rob snuggled himself into the comfort of his bed. His diaper and rubber pants now just as much a part of him as anything else he’d ever worn… and they did feel unbelievably… comforting.  The soothing music and the fact that the doctor was making him feel so… good… worked quickly on his mind as he began to mentally float in an unreal world.  Mark continued with his gentle approach and before too long Rob was relaxed and completely hypnotised.

The psychologist delved into Rob’s childhood and found that his father leaving when he was only three had been the most major trauma in his life. The fact that his father had promised to come back for him, and never did, had built up resentment and trust issues on a massive scale. His mother never got over her ex’s treachery and blamed all men, including her son, for being the selfish rats that they all were. The stories and hurt and humiliation kept on coming. Every opportunity she got his mother blamed him for… everything that was happening to her. She neglected and abused him in many ways but outwardly he appeared no different to 50% of his school mates. Most kids on that particular tenement were in a similar position, so, no one took much notice of another out-of-control or mistreated child.

The information came pouring out. It was as if a safety valve had been turned on and the mounting pressure just forced its way out. Mark was astounded at how much anger, from an early age, had built up inside the boy as a result of the constant barrage of abuse from his mother. When he told of how his mum would, in a drunken rage, beat him, he got so agitated that he cried and wet himself. Mark continued until the sobbing boy had got his story out and had, with the doctor’s skilful and reassuring words, begun to feel better again. However, Mark couldn’t help himself, he regressed the boy back as far as he dare to see what reaction he got. He appeared happiest as a two year-old when he had both his mother and father in his life and they had all gone on holiday together. He was the centre of their world and he was loved. Mark decided that was the period in time he would keep in Rob’s psyche. He would build on that memory whilst instilling in the young mind how much he loved wearing his diaper, how he loved his daddy dressing him, how he just wanted to be a little boy and please his daddy. Mark carefully left much more info pertaining to keeping Rob as a happy two year-old. He also left trigger words planted in the back of Rob’s mind so, when he needed him to be a kid again, the mere mention of those special words would instantly transport him back to that happy time.

Mark gently brought him back to reality. Rob had no idea what or just how much he’d said but he felt ultra-relaxed after the long session. The curtains were pulled back, the fading sun still brightened the room and Rob suddenly realised that he’d wet himself again. “Oh fuck.” Mark looked at his patient to see what had caused this comment. Rob felt ridiculous as he looked down at his wet and bloated diaper, “I’m just a fucking baby,” he quietly commented to himself.  Mark was surprised at the swear words.  It made no sense that after all that had been said and done he should now find such words coming out of the mouth of Rob deeply upsetting. He made a decision there and then that as a 14 year-old Rob needed to change.  Mark said the trigger words and Rob immediately regressed back to a two-year old toddler.

“Daddy is going to change you… you messy little baby,” and he held out his hand for Rob to grab. “Come on then… let’s get you all cleaned up and in a fresh diapee.”

In the bathroom Mark lay baby Rob out on the floor as he went off in search of a few extra items. When he returned, he cooed and spoke in baby jargon as he cleaned up his new baby boy. As he lotioned and powdered Rob the giggling was intense. Rob noticed that the boy’s little cock, now with no hair around it, made him even more like a small child. He kissed the boys naked belly before applying the clean diaper and plastic pants and soon had his happy, sweet toddler back to ‘normal’. He then slipped the t-shirt off and fastened him into a short, light blue cotton onesie that had press studs at the crotch to make changing easier. It emphasised his bulging diaper and the plastic pants just showed below the hem of the onesie’s legs and made him look even more like the sweet little baby that Mark was hoping for.

It had all happened so quickly that the psychologist now began to doubt exactly what had taken place and how and why it had all come about. Was Rob aware of his new childish status?  Why had he not put up an argument… or at least a petulant strop? He couldn’t get over the fact that the sweet little boy, in the cutest of cute kiddie outfits, now playing with his stuffed toys (more items from Little Liam) had, only a few short hours ago, been trying to attack him… the change was just unbelievable. Perhaps, Mark began to hope, that the boy had his own set of needs that just happened to coincide with his own. These thoughts were madness… but… who knew?

That evening Mark called upstairs to his friend Paul and Little Liam and told them he had a surprise.  The psychologist took ‘Baby Robbie’ on their first trip together, it was only a couple of flights of stairs but it marked a giant leap for both of them.  Holding on to his daddy’s hand (Mark had programmed the word into Rob’s vocabulary and he was overjoyed when, a few minutes earlier, he had called him Daddy for the very first time) it was the way things were meant to be thought Mark.  Paul greeted them at the door and was happily surprised to see Rob looking so good as a toddler. He’d known of his friend’s plans of course, but the speed at which it had all happened left him staggered. He invited them both in, making a fuss of the new youngster and telling him how cute and how sweet he looked as he introduced him to Little Liam. “Daddy can I play?” Rob looked quizzically up at Mark. “Only if you play nicely with Little Liam… no snatching.” The two young boys contentedly launched into some game that kept them amused for hours. Mark and Paul chatted and began making plans for the future including enrolling Robbie at the crèche and planning a holiday together. Both doctors had been very busy recently and getting away had been almost impossible but now, they planned their lives around their little boys and trips out were high on the list of things to do.

The two thick padded little bums crawled and ran around the house the best they could, one minute building blocks, the next coloring in books. They pushed their toy cars around the living room, finding hidey-holes behind cushions and exploring everywhere together. There was even a game of chasing soap bubbles that were blown by Daddy Mark, which only stopped for bottles of milk that their daddy’s fed them. They eagerly sucked on the rubber teats and seemed to enjoy the warm sustenance in the bottle… they couldn’t get enough of it. Once finished the men slipped a pacifier in each of their mouths and lay them down for a nap. Looking like little diapered angels lying next to each other the exhausted boys were asleep in seconds. Daddy Paul had added a little sleeping ingredient to their formula to help the boys calm down from their exciting introduction to one and other. They were going to be little friends together for a long time, or so their daddy’s hoped, and this first meeting had gone off really well.  Little Liam had even put an arm around his new friend as they both snoozed wrapped in their thick, comfortable diapers and cartoon onesies, while clutching their favourite soft toy. Paul was delighted that his best friend now had someone to share his life with… just like he had with Little Liam.

The two men chatted about what would and could happen but they remained positive that these two sleeping little cuties, the loves of their lives, would always be looked after by their daddies. Indeed, it looked like they were just as excited by the prospect as their little boys had been when they’d found someone else to play with. The two doctors were desperate to keep them young, innocent and free from the hassle of growing up for as long as they could. The constant wearing of their thick diapers would keep them looking and feeling like kids and that’s what their daddies were trying to achieve. The boys had been through a lot during their short lives and perhaps this was a sort of reward - no worries and tons of hugs. As the toddlers cuddled each other whilst they slept, their daddies raised a celebratory glass of wine and clinked them together as they toasted the future. After all, this was just the first day of the rest of the boy’s well-loved and of course… well-padded life.

***tbc***

Part 5      Epilogue

Baby Robbie seemed to flourish in his new life. All the negative thoughts and actions had been banished from his mind and, under the supervision of his loving daddy, he spent his days at play with all his new friends. Despite the small, though constant, niggling worry at the back of Mark’s brain, his time had also never been happier. Looking after a toddler as cute, loving and as adventurous as Robbie was the most rewarding thing he’d ever accomplished in his life. Forget all the accolades, awards, certificates and degrees, they may have looked impressive on his office wall, but he knew his true value was in giving his baby boy all the love and attention he could.

As a regressed two year-old Robbie loved everything and looked every bit the adorable kid he was as he ran around in his bulky diaper trying and experiencing new things.  Although Mark loved to see that little cushioned bottom getting involved in games with his friends it was even nicer when he was curled up next to him as they watched TV together. He loved dressing up the little rascal. Early on, Paul had described to Mark how seeing Little Liam at play, wearing a thick, well-padded and stuffed diaper, had, for him at least, reinforced his childishness. He never wanted his little boy to lose that innocence; that visible packed diaper was the symbol of that virtue. He wanted it to be a constant reminder to all who saw Liam; the guiltless and unsophisticated world in which his little boy was now happily immersed.

Mark took up this mandate and thought the same should apply to Robbie, so their thick and highly visible padded bottoms were the beacon for how little boys should always look. Having said that both had some lovely, cheerful, colourful clothes; occasionally Paul or Mark would buy matching outfits for him and Little Liam because they looked so damn adorable together. Because he was taller, Liam looked like Robbie’s older brother but they still acted and looked like little tots as they scrambled around or made forts or fought intergalactic spacemen or… they never seemed at a loss for things to play and were constantly on the go.  Sometimes, there bottoms, like the rest of them, would be covered in dirt or mud but thankfully, the plastic pants protected them from doing too much damage to their diapers. However, the boys always seemed to return to daddy messy and wet and a change would have to quickly be made so they could rush out and carry on with their games.

It seemed incredible that there were so many other daddies and mommies with ‘littles’ of their own. Since the time the crèche was instigated almost 20 months ago, the demand for more and more places meant that their little company had to expand.  Mark and Paul and the two retired nurses had built on that success and it had fast become a very strong and well organised business. Meanwhile, as the company swelled there was a little game that the two daddies liked to play between themselves… and that was to find the most adorable clothes for the charges to wear. In the early days colourful plastic pants were eagerly sought out for the boys but as time moved on so did the desire to put them in original designed onesies, specially made t-shirts, shortalls or shorts that emphasised the bulky diaper underneath. The boy’s wanted for nothing and always looked distinctive, colorful and pretty.

Seeing the boy’s storming around in their latest fashion, was always a pleasure to the men, even though their clothes never seemed to be on for long before their daddies came up with another piece of exotic merchandise for them to dress up in. Other daddies and mommies joined in the fun as well… often treating their tots to some bizarre creations. It appeared that most adults liked to see their kids in original designs, so another company was set up to develop those ideas and concepts and turn them into reality.  Sometimes the creation was so well-padded the little one could only crawl around as the bulky nature of the diaper between their legs was so vast they couldn’t walk. No matter how outrageous or challenging the design was, Mark and Paul found a group of ‘creators’ who took up the challenge to manufacture any new innovation. Mark’s favourite was a pale yellow rubber onesie that he’d had made especially for Robbie. He looked incredible in it and matched perfectly with the pale green leather onesie that Little Liam occasionally wore. Both had different coloured, though matching, plastic or rubber pants that emphasised the boy’s thick protection – though these outfits were only worn on special occasions.

Mark loved his and Robbie’s evenings together the most. He loved the ritual of bathing his little boy. Splashing together in the bath, playing with rubber ducks, plastic ships and squirting toys made for a fun way to end the day. Mark had used a lotion to make sure that Robbie’s pubic hair would never return and, as he was permanently regressed, his little cock was always happily at peace. Massaging in the baby cream, powdering him and wrapping a nice thick diaper around his waist before pulling on a pair of leak-proof pants… was a magical routine he never tired of. As he kept telling Robbie, ‘little boy’s need all the protection they can get’, before finishing the procedure with a delightful onesie that fastened between the boy’s outstretched legs. A warm bottle of milk and always, a loving embrace completed the night time tradition. Mostly, Robbie slept in his own crib in his own room, which had been designed and decorated with cartoon scenes. Occasionally he’d sleep with daddy, who appreciated the little warm body lying next to his. The thick padding making sure that there were no accidents in the night, which Mark found equally as comforting when he hugged him tightly. Pressed up against little Robbie in this way was a pleasure beyond worth.  He found peace and contentment having the little fellow wrapped safely in his arms, often causing him to quickly drift off into a deep and unperturbed sleep.

The business was booming for all concerned. Its reputation was growing and there was quite a waiting list of people wanting to enrol their ‘little ones’.  Indeed, so successful had the project become that some of the other daddies, who were very rich men indeed, wanted to invest in further developing the venture. Little boys and girls from all over the country wanted to come and play, which became a bit of a nightmare to try to organise for them all to attend. So, to begin with, and to ease the burden, the group who ran the crèche organised regular outings where everyone could join in. Sometimes it was just days out, at other times they would take over a villa or a camping ground that was for their exclusive use. Mark soon found himself extremely busy with his work as a much-in-demand psychologist, organising events for the expanding business and of course keeping Robbie happy. Soon a mail order company for the clothing, a web site, a full time vacation hotel, camping and caravan sites, were all added to the list of things that came under the banner of ‘Diaper Desires’, the name of the crèche and the company originally set up by the two doctors. It was terrific to see little ones from all over the world come together for unrestricted and non-judgemental activities in the company of so many other ‘littles’ like themselves.

The success of the enterprise could have swamped both Paul and Mark but their love for their boys meant that everything was geared around them. They made sure that their tots were at the centre of everything that was done and that it was their needs, little though they were, that were uppermost in any planning. Robbie and Liam were completely unaware of the influence they had on the business. They were unaware that their thickly padded bottoms, loved so much by their daddies, had inspired and were copied by so many others. After only 19 months since baby Robbie had entered Mark’s world, the business inspired by him and his playmate Liam, had helped create an empire which seemed to grow more popular on an almost daily basis.  One day they might have to grow up but at least for the foreseeable future Baby Robbie and Little Liam are staying just as sweet as they are... padded toddlers without a care in the world.

 

 

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