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Author Topic: Latch Key Kid  (Read 28169 times)

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Mary Beth Sanford

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Latch Key Kid
« on: August 09, 2007, 01:24:30 PM »
Ms. Pennyworth lived directly across from us and nice enough although, like most, our interactions were brief, rare and only during the elevator ride.  I'd almost knocked on her door after discovering I didn't have my key.  Mom wouldn't be home for another three hours at best, four at worst, and I laughed.  I laughed because I didn't need a restroom and for the second time that day used the diaper I was wearing. 

I hadn't always laughed over such things but a year in diapers took the sting out of wearing them.  Getting use to diapers at eighteen wasn't easy either, but after my second surgery, a few days after the bus hit me,  I was left with a bladder half as big as it had been and I was small to begin with.  Diapers made life a little easier and if you've ever had to search for a bathroom, desperately, you'll understand what I mean. 

And there I was, wetting a third time, sitting by our apartment door doing homework when Ms. Pennyworth came down the hall.  I'd given mom my key after she misplaced her own.  If she couldn't find it tonight, she'd have another made and that's what I told Ms. Pennyworth.  Her invitation to come in and sit comfortably was gratefully accepted. 

I wore a generic diaper with single tapes because they were cheap and easy to get on and off.  I could fit the toddler sizes because, as my aunt once said, I was as thin as a rail.  Problem was the ones I wore were very cheap, too thin and not made for a boy my age.  I also didn't know they had leaked a little leaving two neatly formed narrow wet lines on either side of my bottom.  Ms. Pennyworth noticed.

My doctor, my aunt and mom knew about the diapers as well as a girl named Susan in my English class. Susan knew because I'd confessed right after she asked me if I was gay as the reason I'd been ignoring her advances.  That was the other downside of diapers but Susan thought it was cute and when we did make love, twice now, she'd insisted on diapering me before I'd leave.  I was still getting use to that.

Ms. Pennyworth would be the forth person to know when she asked, for the sake of her furniture, if I was wet.   I was and that was obvious when she pointed out the obvious, and a little shame faced as I explained the reason why.  I've always worried about peoples reactions, imagining the worse, but Ms. Pennyworth was wonderful. 

She was immediately sympathetic and just as quickly grabbed her keys, asking my waist size before explaining that she would run next door to the Pharmacy.  They carried dozens of disposables, she said, leaving me a plastic bag for the chair I could use, and a promise to be right back. 

When I blushed and said it wasn't necessary she insisted.  The least she could do and besides, she said, three to four hours in a wet diaper was just not something she would wish on anyone.  That I decided, with a very appreciative thanks, was definitely true enough.  I went on with my homework.  Ms. Pennyworth was as good as her word and did come back quickly and obviously she'd found something that would fit. 

I'd given her the generic brand name I used in the hopes they might have that brand but they didn't.  She told me that, sadly, in a bad news, good news sort of way with the good news that they had several brands in my size.  I tried desperately not to overreact or react at all, but I was looking at a package of Pampers, Cruisers, size 7 cursing the toddler on the package for looking like a toddler.

Getting use to diapers begins first by not buying baby diapers even if those baby diapers fit.  I explained that to mom on her first try when I finally agreed to wear them.  Mom apologized, returned the diapers with the baby on the package and came home with those generics.  Better I said, but it still took another two days before I taped myself into one.

I couldn't have that conversation with Ms. Pennyworth, not after the trouble she'd gone through, deciding her kindness had nothing whatsoever to do with my ego.  I gritted my teeth, thanked her and asked if I could use her bathroom.  What happened next can only be described as mouth dropping.  Mouth dropping because it was clear she intended to change me and do so right there in her living room.

She was opening the package of diapers before I'd asked about the bathroom and that was seconds after setting a new canister of baby powder on her coffee table, but what really caught me by surprise was when she knelt.  I'd fully expected to be handed a diaper and given instructions on which door to use.  I was not prepared at all watching her open that diaper while on her knees.

I'm almost sure that someday, hopefully not too long after I'm a full fledged psychologist, that I'll understand the workings of a mind like Ms. Pennyworth's, and, more importantly, my own.  Anyone else, I was sure, would have laughed, perhaps sarcastically, walked over, grabbed the diaper and walked off to find the bathroom - thank you very much, but I didn't.

Perhaps I can blame some of this on Susan, but that wouldn't be fair because the instant I knew what was happening I wanted it to happen.  Damn those egos, because that was what was standing in my way although it was not showing when I hesitated.  What did show was the deep, blood red blush that I was sure would light up the room if she'd shut the lights.

Perhaps she'd anticipated my reluctance, perhaps not but what pushed my ego back slightly, enough anyway, was her asking me how long I'd been in that diaper I was wearing.  I thought about it and including the trip home and time in the hallway, it had been almost three hours. 

Too long she said, and already I was wet long enough for a rash to have started.  She knew that she noted because she was a nurse and with that my ego nearly disappeared.  What took my ego's place, and all of my remaining rational to say no, was anticipation. 

Anticipation so powerful as to leave me in a state of absolute desire.  A desire so powerful I nearly cooed when I began walking towards her.  Not only was I going to give into this, I didn't even have the foresight to undo my own pants.  Did she know that about me, could she have read that somehow on my face, and of course she couldn't, but there she was undoing my jeans.

I stepped out of those jeans as each shoe came off with each pants leg, and there I was in just my diaper, tee-shirt and socks.  She extended her hand, took mine when I extended it and guided me down on the rug.  I sat first, laid back and spread my legs as eagerly as if I'd been doing this for  as long as I could remember. 

She in turn moved directly between my legs and instead of lifting the tapes on my diaper she emptied the bag.  I was looking on in amazement at a travel size container of baby wipes, a small tube I was guessing for the rash she warned me about and baby oil.  When all of it was open and she opened each hovering over me, she tugged my diaper open.  As you might imagine, I was in a very embarrassing state that she seemed completely ignorant of.

Only she wasn't as ignorant as she seemed as she folded the old diaper forward before tugging it free. I know she wasn't because as soon as the fresh diaper, that adorable Pampers was under me, she started on the tip with the baby wipe. If I had words and the ability to speak them that baby wipe silenced all but my involuntary groan.  There was no hope of stopping this even if I wanted to and that baby wipe alone was enough to keep me there for as long as she wanted.

I am never going to be a rocket scientist but even the dumbest person would know what she was up to and while I was thinking that I ignored it wanting very much for her to continue.  Thankfully she did and with the baby wipe still in her right hand her left hand took hold of me.  Alabaster skin and bright red nails wrapped me completely.

How many times it took is not something I can answer, because I wasn't counting, and in seconds, the most wondrous seconds I can remember, she brought the baby wipe back.  She was clearly cognizant of how sensitive I was because she was incredibly gentle with the wipe, and as if it was all perfectly normal, sat the wipe down on the wet diaper and picked up the baby oil.

I would never have guessed, till now, how erotic those few over the counter items could be, but that baby oil, followed by the ointment before she covered it all with baby powder held me mesmerized.  All of those diapers, even the ones Susan had tapped me into, didn't come close to the one I was being covered with now. 

Pampers and there, across the front, Big Bird and Elmo. She was smiling, a wonderful smile and stood again extending her hand to help me up.  I stood and before I could say anything, she lifted my tee-shirt.  It wouldn't take long to wash and dry my clothes she said as I raised my arms.  With the exception of my socks I now wore just the diaper. 

What now, I mused with a pleasant afterglow warming me.  The mantel clock said two hours before mom would be home as I watched her gather my things into a bundle.  She returned with a handled wicker tray, filling it with those accessories leaving me standing, wondering.  The bag from the Pharmacy, thought to be empty, wasn't as I watched in rapt fascination and thoughtful anticipation the pacifier she was removing from it's package.

That hand again guiding me to her couch, and within those few feet she was teasing the soft rubber nipple against my lips.  I took it readily, eagerly allowing it without so much as a thought while sitting when she sat.  I understood her tugs laying so my head was in her lap. She was watching me, her left hand stroking my hair, her right gently moving over the diaper.

She had waited so long for this, she said, surprising me since I had no idea how that could be.  Then surprise turning to shock when she told me that nearly a year had passed since she'd talked with my mother. It was her suggestion to put me back into diapers and her fantasy when my mother agreed and went shopping. 

She was, in fact, the one that had picked out the Pampers Cruisers that day nearly a year ago.  That same package that had fostered those comments to mom causing her to go back and change that package for something not so babyish. And there I was, in just my diaper, nursing a pacifier and smiling.  Yes I nodded when she asked if I would stop by tomorrow.

She changed my diaper a second time when I wet.  She helped me dress running her iron over my tee-shirt and jeans first.  I felt so fresh and so at ease when she stood by the door for me to leave.  Mom, apologetic over the key, smiled over Ms. Pennyworth generosity thanking her as I walked between apartments. 

I looked back at Ms. Pennyworth wondering if I'd dreamed all of it knowing I hadn't.  In her hand, worn as one might a ring, that pacifier I'd been given and she wiggled it at me before her door closed. I retired to my room, there was homework still as I stripped down to just my diaper. 

Tomorrow, I whispered.

Mary Beth Sanford

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Latch Key Kid 2
« Reply #1 on: August 11, 2007, 03:49:59 AM »
My homework would be late I explained to the teacher.  I'd been locked out but the truth was I couldn't focus last night.  All I could do was replay those few hours I had with Ms. Pennyworth and then myself before dropping off to sleep.  I was wearing a baby's diaper, I mused as I turned over on my belly.

Fearful and excited.  Those were the emotions trading places most of the day and growing worse towards the end of school.  Did I dare knock on her door?  What if that was a one time thing?  What if it wasn't.  Both notions swirling around me made me nervous and weak at the knees.  Would she purchase a whole package of diapers and just use those two?  Not likely and what about the pacifier?

I was afraid to go home and afraid not to and I had to go home.  I thought the note was from Ms. Pennyworth when I slipped my key into our lock.  It was from mom, she was working a double tonight and would stay at her sister's when she got off work.  Home alone, I mused still looking at the note.  I heard her door open behind and felt my stomach twist slightly.  That erection I'd had off and on was on again. 

"I've drawn you a bath,"  Ms. Pennyworth said leaning against the casing of her front door.  She was wearing an apron.  In her hand a diaper and pair of plastic pants.  Not the Pampers but cloth.  A cloth diaper and a pair of plastic pants.  I could hardly walk when she beckoned me into her apartment as she added, "and I've read the note."

"What are those,"  I managed.  There were a lot of things I could have said, a dozen question I might have asked, but I was looking at a cloth diaper and a pair of baby pants and I was sure they'd fit me and I couldn't stand on my own.

"Your outfit honey, or part of it.  Now go ahead and get out of your clothes, but leave your diaper on so Auntie can do that part,"  she said smiling mischievously as she closed and locked her door. 

What was she doing and how far was I willing to let her do it?  A silly question because I was undressing.  I'd worn a fresh diaper to school after wetting the Pampers she'd put me into before I left her apartment.  I kicked my shoes off, flipped each sock down and allowed my jeans to drop.  I'd done that order on purpose knowing I'd be showing off the diaper I wore when I lifted my tee-shirt.

She sat the diaper and those baby pants on the coffee table and I saw the diaper pins then.  There was a changing pad on the floor as well.  A quilted satiny plastic with pastel teddy bears decorating it and that pacifier.  She lifted the pacifier, teased it against my lips and bent down on her knees before moving her hands to the diaper. 

One hand resting open over the diaper, the other tugging the single tape on my right.  She switched hands. Her left hand, the one now resting on the diaper,  I assumed was to hold it in place but she moved it and I reacted immediately.  I was so wound up, so damn excited that it was all I could do, to hold myself and that lasted only seconds, if that.

She was looking up at me when I opened my eyes again.  She was smiling as she said, "is that better precious?"

All I could do was nod a yes as she gathered the diaper first between my legs before easing the front free.  A baby wipe, nothing more than a moistened square of paper, was like a piece of silk as she cleaned me.  I was so lost, so wonderfully lost and then she stood.  She took my hand and I followed.

The tub was still steaming, full and covered in bubbles.  It had to have been drawn only minutes ago, while I was in the hall, I mused.  I did what I had to do and stepped into it allowing my skin a second to get use to the heat before lowering myself.  She followed  me down as bubbles gathered against my chest.  A wash cloth and new bar of soap was taken up as I laid back against the white porcelain as those bubbles teased my chin. 

Head to toe with that soap and wash cloth then Johnson's Baby Shampoo towards the end.  When I stood I was spotless, warm, moist and amazed how something so simple could be so intensely powerful.  It wasn't simply a baby bath, but foreplay, and the most consuming minutes of my life with the exception of all those other minutes so far.  More minutes with a large soft white towel.

Finally, a large duster, a woman's kind of thing, I mused, that came out of a lavender container of plastic.  A container large enough to hold it and the powder it was resting on as she started at my neck.  Baby powder I noted wondering if it once held feminine powder.  Mom had dusters, some of them she'd gotten from me at Christmas time, although none that I could remember held baby powder and I smiled slightly causing her to.

She worked her way down the front giving me one light pat that didn't bring on a reaction but that was normal because I was spent.  The thought occurred to me then wondering if that was her intent.  Those little sessions to soften me. 

Once, that first time, so the diaper went on more smoothly, a second time in her lap.  She played then as well, more firmly when I reacted to her hand resting there but never at rest, and now this time so I wouldn't react. Was that what sex would be like, I wondered, deciding if it was so be it. 

I felt silky walking out of the bathroom and much whiter and much cleaner when I went in.  Like the night before but with slightly less reluctance this time, I lowered myself to the changing pad and she followed.  There was baby oil and without the sexual reaction more babyish.  A palm full of baby oil before a very generous amount of baby powder.

I wanted to coo my satisfaction although my face had to show it.  So too my cooperation when I lifted myself without an ounce of hesitation.  The diaper, cotton and contoured went under me and another narrower in width followed. 

A doubler I realized as she filled both middle to front with more baby powder. Cloth was silent, I noticed that immediately when it came between my legs and softer, much softer than a disposable.  Warmer as well as it cuddled my privates now hidden in the cushy soft folds.

She formed a nearly perfect "V" before my eyes tugging gently so the diaper would gather naturally between my thighs.  It flowed from behind me to my waist touching me differently than those disposables had, nicely different and it got better.

She gently pushed the front flap of the diaper towards the side but under the rear flat stopping when it was smooth before picking up a diaper pin. It was tipped in white plastic and I wondered if I could managed opening it with one hand as she did. 

She was between my legs again, as she had been the night before, bent slightly, then slightly more to pierce the cotton layers before closing that first side.  She repeated those steps with those steps different still because it drew the diaper snugly around me.  I could feel the diaper moving at the small of my back and across my waist. 

An extraordinary feeling given it was a diaper and I'd almost said, just a diaper besides.  It wasn't just a diaper but a part that alone hardly anything and now everything.  That doubler pushing the diaper further against my thighs gave me a twinge and another when I brought my legs up.

With my legs down the diaper wrapped itself against the back of them, coming up it eased gathering more between them.  It was a silent voice reminding me that I was wearing a diaper, as if I needed any reminding and if I did those baby pants left no doubt.

They shimmered in the light and gathered nosily in her hands making me wonder if she'd purchased those for the noise.  People that might wear waterproof panties out of necessity would want them silent.  Although, on the other hand I mused, an adult wearing baby panties might not.  I favored the noise and more that wet look of the white vinyl under the bright lights.

I curled my toes and eased them into the holes past the waist then lifted my legs slightly straighter so she could tug them down. They went on loose, gathering first by the legs then at the waist band near my things.  Oddly the puffiness hardly changed suggesting there was far more material than ordinary panties or pants and of course there was.  They were baby pants and about to settle over a very thick set of diapers.

I settled my feet on the floor and lifted my bottom and watched in rapt fascination those panties stretching over the diaper.  And that diaper again, moving differently once more, this time easing at my bottom but still holding firm around my waist. 

How wonderful that felt and even better with the baby pants now gathering within that white shimmer and forming new folds I could only feel. She was wonderful and some of that wonder her attention to the bands circling my legs and waist. She gave me a final loving pat, pausing, I suspect, to test me before she stood.  The baby was still a baby, I mused behind the pacifier.

I was nursing that pacifier, sometimes slightly, sometimes vigorously and noting the only difference was when I remembered I was nursing it.  When I stood I played my tongue over the soft rubber nipple resting at times against it, just to toy with it.  The hilt of the plastic shield, no matter what my tongue did, was always touching my upper lip and just above my chin covering my mouth fully.  It was like nothing I remember chewing on or holding in my mouth.

She was playing still with my waist band and those bands gathering the plastic pants around my legs.  She could play for as long as she wanted, I decided watching her bend again to the coffee table.  A tee-shirt I realized and not another diaper.  An adult size tee-shirt I also realized but surprised at how short it was.  On the front three baby bears in powder blue, pink and yellow.

"I ironed the appliques on a new tee-shirt I shortened. It was a package of three.  The other two I'll finish tomorrow,"  She said tugging at the hem that stopped a few inches short of my baby pants and diaper.  There was nothing to block the view I realized - happily.

What now I wondered hoping it was her lap again but when she took my hand for the kitchen I knew that wasn't going to happen.  There was a chair out, one of four that circled the table, and snuggled against it a tray on legs giving me a hint of a high-chair.  That was clearly the intent because of the toddler plate and sippy cup. She was going to feed me I realized.

Meatloaf was the reason I'd grown hungry had I thought about it and I hadn't tell now.  I had other things on my mind I smiled watching her after she sat me in the chair cutting my slice into bite size pieces. 

The plate, decorated with yellow daisies to match the sippy cup, had three sections with the first, the largest, holding the pieces of meatloaf.  Another section soon held mash potatoes and a small amount of gravy with the last a gathering of snap peas.  I could easily have done without those snap peas.

I didn't notice the bib till she picked it up from the table and that she said took a little longer to make which was why those other two tee-shirts were not finished.  A terry towel, under a soft clear vinyl and neatly edged gave it a very authentic look.  More importantly it fit.  It snapped in back closing me into it and I wish I could describe that sensation.

I was fed two helpings of everything and a second filling of milk from my sippy cup with her eating from her own plate as I chewed. Desert was from a Gerber's toddler size jar of vanilla pudding and much smoother than puddings made from a box. It was one of the most enjoyable meals I'd ever had and that even included those snap peas.

With dinner over I was led back to the living room, mystified again not knowing what to expect although anticipating greatly anything.  She guided me to the coach, arranged me so I was laying and disappeared only to reappear with a glass baby bottle with more milk.  The pacifier she'd taken was no longer needed I noted and it's different, a nice difference, teasing a rubber nipple that leaks milk.

I don't know how long I slept nor the time when she nudge me awake or for that matter if I'd dreamed. Funny that part about not dreaming because I could never dream anything better than the evening so far.  She had gathered everything together and put it out of sight and cleaned the kitchen when I stood with her hand tugging me up.

I was confused when she handed me a bag then understood when I realized it held my clothes.  Only I didn't fully understand because it wasn't that late.  She kissed me before thrusting the pacifier into my mouth and led me to her front door.  I was petrified that she might open that door and did.

It's a quiet apartment complex but people do come and go at all hours and there was ten feet between her door and mine.  Ten feet and I was wearing a diaper, plastic pants and a tee-shirt with baby bears on it, not to mention the pacifier.  I turned to her in a panic and she handed me the key to my place.

"I promised your mother I would make sure you ate something, and that you did your homework. You have yet to do your homework,"  She said before kissing me again and when the kiss ended she patted my bottom with the last pat a slight push.

I rushed quickly across the carpet, fiddled with the key in stark terror and gratefully dashed in though the open door.  She was watching and when I was partly hidden added, "I'd like to see you again tomorrow."

"I don't have school tomorrow,"  I said looking at her with a longing I hoped touched a nerve.

"I know, she said and added, "and if you like, I'll fix you breakfast before we go shopping."

"Shopping?  Shopping for what," I asked mulling over both the invitation and what had just happened.

"I saw an All-In-One diaper that I think will fit you but I didn't want to get it till you've tried it on,"  She said as she eased the door closed, and inches before it latched she added, "good night precious."

Mary Beth Sanford

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Latch Key Kid 3
« Reply #2 on: August 12, 2007, 05:50:37 AM »
I stood behind the closed door of our apartment allowing my panic to subside, my breathing to slow, wondering what had just happened.  She had bathed me, diapered me and feed me.  It was wonderful and I was even allowed a nap, and then when I could have easily been brought to climax, with hours ahead of us, a whole night even, she kicked me out.

Was it something I'd said or done?  Was it something she needed to do and then that comment came back to me striking me fully.  There was no possible way I would go out shopping for a diaper.  It was difficult enough those few times mom worked past her plans forcing me to buy my own disposables.  She couldn't be serious and what was she thinking sending me into that hallway still dressed like a baby?

I leaned against the door calming, easing my hand to the plastic pants.  Amazing those baby pants and that diaper.  How exciting it was when I took a second to allow those soft panties to take hold of me again.  I felt scandalous, were anyone watching, but no one was and I couldn't hold myself back any longer. I caressed the plastic, it's silky touch, pressing lightly against the diaper under it, enjoying greatly the pleasures unfolding within.  Amazing, I whispered again.  

Amazing even more that a few layers of cotton under a single layer of soft plastic could be so incredibly erotic but there it was and against the door, unable to go any further, I allowed myself a moan. I imagined her a few seconds before that moan, and when I did it came on quicker but without her it passed much faster.  There was nothing left but to do my homework and that thought caught hold.

She had promised my mother that I'd eat a proper meal and do my homework and I hadn't done my homework she'd said.  Was that it?  Was that the reason I was nearly thrust into the public.  It couldn't be that. I wondered thinking suddenly that perhaps it was nothing more complicated than some kind of urge within her.  She herself hadn't had sex, not adult sex, not with me as an adult, but I had.  Was she having sex of a sort when she babied me?

Was she, in fact, a dominate? I could never understand a dominate or top although I knew of them.  I could, however and easily understand a submissive, or bottom because I was.  Was that our relationship and were we in a relationship, and if so I was sure it would never be called that.  

Or could it?  What was our connection?  Those baby clothes or me being babied?  I knew what I liked and realized, suddenly, I had no clue what might be turning her on. She had said she'd waited a long time to diaper me and was it her fantasy to do so and yes, obviously it was.  I wish I knew woman better and even Susan well enough to ask, but I didn't dare.

And there was homework to do.  I walked away from the door feeling at ease as the diaper slipped softly up and down each cheek as I walked.  I moved away from that door after one last look through the peephole and a little more worry over her comments.  I was still scared over what she had said but thrilled nonetheless over the invitation back, and it struck me that my fear may be part of her fantasies.  Why else put me in that kind of situation in the hallway, and suggest another, even more frightful.  

A dominate - perhaps she was and perhaps she was with a touch of S&M as well, and damn it, I know so little about her.  Did she get sexual pleasure or some kind of gratification from my recent suffering?  Was it humiliation that brought on her greatest joy?  Or was her treating me like a baby, when I wasn't, the real turn-on?  Did that small terrifying moment in the hallway serve her as those longer more pleasurable moments in her apartment serve me?  I didn't know and wanted to.  

OK, granted we could be, or at least appear to be a couple.  Now that I think on it, the perfect couple in that regard and what a couple that would be.  I do have a need to be babied, I'll admit that easily now that I have been, and I suspect anyone else watching us would say I've given all of my control over to her.  

Isn't that by definition a submissive and her a dominant?  Having done so makes it so, which makes me clearly subservient.  Fine, I can accept that part of me, and her part as well, or at least most of it. Not the scary parts, not yet.

The thing is I'm not sure I can step out into the world, even so small a part of the world as perhaps a store.  A store of all things and to try on a diaper outside of home gave me goose bumps.  And who tries on a diaper anyway, I thought.  And when I thought about it I had to smile a little.  

Truth is no on tries on diapers shopping.  They couldn't.  Diapers, like underwear, touch the genitals and most states, maybe all states have health codes forbidding such things.  She was teasing me.

She had to be teasing me and perhaps again, for her own pleasure.  Although, honestly, imagining trying on a diaper was truly hard to imagine, yet there I was trying to imagine just that?  Thrilling, but clearly impossible. Would she be mad if I said no?  Would I be able to?

I whispered no, again, while knocking on her door. I'd hardly slept.

"Good morning,"  She said stepping away from the door to allow me in.  I carried that same bag in with the things she'd sent me out in last night, although the diaper was soaked now.  I apologized for that and she laughed telling me that's why babies wear diapers.  A statement that brought a blush to me in spite of agreeing.

"Is something bothering you," she asked and I was a little amazed that she could see that since I was trying hard to hold my face neutral. I blushed again, nodded and spoke my mind.  I wasn't confrontational, I couldn't be that, but I told her how scared I was last night and how frightened still over the notion of being exposed publicly.

She moved closer, hugged me while adding a peck on my cheek, and took my hand.  I was being silly she said and promised she would never do anything that brought me any harm tugging me to the changing pad.  It was there again, that pad, as was a fresh cloth diaper with another pair of plastic pants. My fears, lingering still, slipped back behind my excitement as she removed my shoes and socks.

I was laying on my back, she kneeling before me tugging my jeans free of my legs as easily as a mother might her infant and how pleasurable that thought was.  My normal disposable diaper, simply a garment I'd grown use to in a years worth of wearing, became a diaper once again, a baby's diaper under her gaze as she released both tapes.  I hadn't wet yet, often didn't, although wishing I had for the sake of those silky wipes and the attention they fostered.

She pushed on my tee-shirts hem exposing my stomach and bent slightly to take the diaper up.  Above me in clear view she allowed it to unfold before slipping it under me.  Again I had raised myself anticipating her moves and eagerly, happily, watching her fix the doubler above the diaper. I went down on the soft cotton no longer imagining what it would feel like slipping easily away from my logical mind to where only pleasure whirled.

There was a moment when I worried that I'd go unsatisfied but dampened that as she filled a palm with baby oil. Oh yes I said to myself but to her it was just a moan and again I felt one of the best reasons for being a submissive. Sex, no matter how it comes about, fosters endorphins and those flood the brain and mine, in just a few loving moves, was now drowning under that swirling among my thoughts.

Finally that baby wipe and her smile as I fell back figuratively into pure pleasure now happily ensnared within a body stripped of everything but that pleasure. Those questions, concerns, fears, all surfaced one after the other again, but not nearly as large as they had been as the diaper touched me slightly first then more firmly.  One diaper pin, then the other and I was cuddled in cotton easing my feet up for the sleekness and noise of my baby pants.

When I stood I could almost forget what might face me and not caring much as I watched her move off towards her room realizing I'd never been in there.  She returned holding jeans before they fell open to reveal they were overalls, bib overalls and facing me a cute yellow sun peeking from behind a pocket.  Toddlers, little boys, farmers perhaps, were the only ones that wore those types of jeans and farmers never a pair that had embroidery on it.

What kept the questions at bay was the diaper teasing me and the slight crinkling of plastic when I lifted a leg to step into them.  My own jeans would never fit over so much diaper she said tugging the overalls up and past them. She fixed the straps in place, adjusted both slightly and tucked my shirt smooth.  A second more and she had closed both sides with brass buttons.

There were shoes as well when she left again.  White shoes, pure white shoes, that I would have guessed impossible to find in my size wondering what other uses for shoes that looked like they belonged on a baby.  I laughed at her ingenuity when she said they came from a store that sells costumes for high school and college bands.  I was wearing marching shoes but without the rest of a costume or instrument they were baby shoes.

I asked then, when?  She couldn't have purchased these today and she hadn't.  Yesterday in anticipation of today she said looking up from her knees as she fixed the last shoe in place over new socks.  I hadn't seen how this all looked but enough glimpse gave me a hint of it and fear, always present although lessoned till now, rose again.  I was going out like this and she nodded.

What would people think I mused first before whispering it.  Most she said wouldn't notice, those few that did would be discreet after years of being told not to stare although they'd be curious, obviously.  Curious but silent and even if there was an accidental snicker it would be covered. I could handle that easily she mused as she slipped my wallet into her purse.

I couldn't I whispered, and could she said promising she would be with me every step of the way.  I wanted to run with no where to run to or too scared perhaps and more when she slipped the pacifier into the pocket where the sun was.  Just in case, she said, should I start to fuss, making me decide that instant to be silent.  

We stepped out of her apartment and the walk itself moved the jeans, the bottom part at least, too much.  Did the diaper and those plastic pants show I asked twisting around in the elevator to answer that question. They did, a little, but not nearly as much as she'd thought they would, she said.  That wasn't the answer I'd hoped for when the ding came announcing we were in our basement parking.

What was I doing, what was I thinking that I could do this, that I'd dare such a thing, forever glancing around for the witnesses to my madness.  Utter and complete madness yet not so complete to notice I was being babied as she closed the seat belt around me.  I was a toddler that could serve in the Army if I chose, that could vote soon and take a drink and laughed silently wondering who would give me a drink dressed like this.

In the light of full day I slunk down and every face, those waiting for us to unblock the driveway, those in other cars all knew exactly what I was wearing. A truck driver coming down from the back smiled, he knew.  So did that woman with the briefcase and those boys holding skate boards before we pulled into traffic. They all knew.

And none of them did as each block began to capture my attention.  My mind was my own worse enemy she said and the weapons my fear.  Confidence would  be how I would win and fighting this battle, any battle, comes from experience.  The only way to gain the experience and courage to fight again and again.  Each win, each victory, would gird me and besides, she said patting the front of my overalls, I was adorably cute.

I didn't believe her and did. I grew more at ease but more apprehensive as we grew further and further from the security of home. I wasn't going out enough, she said, and my mother mentioned that, she noted, and it was because I had to wear diapers she added.  That was true enough but not too unusual giving the circ-umstances and she laughed suggesting I compare these circ-umstances now to those others we've had.  Those others, all of those others, had become cake walks compared to this.

"You're doing this because I wasn't going out enough,"  I asked slightly shocked.  I was wondering as well, when and how much more my mother talked of this.  Ms. Pennyworth was the one that suggested diapers in the first place.  What was this, I wondered.  A shopping trip or an exercise in confidence building and that was funny given I was dressed as a toddler on my way to be fitted for a diaper.  Excuse me?

Her answer, like a lot of her answers, was a pat, a smile, and an occasional glance at my lap. I wanted answers real answers and the most important one where were we going and when I thought that, she slowed and I got my answer.  

"Your Baby's Place" the sign read and below it in letters slightly smaller, "We Coddle Babies In All Sizes"

You can't be serious I whispered as she brought the car into the small parking lot.  It was a house, nicely kept up with the shop detached and painted gayly in pastels.  There were babies on the window some standing, some crawling, some sitting.  I was going into that space and it was for babies.

"She's the best I've found at what she does,"  Ms. Pennyworth said putting the car in park.  That did not reassure me as she reached over and undid my belt.  I could hardly move let alone walk but did so and gave her my hand when she extended her's.  We walked in to the tinkling of a small brass bell and a woman, sitting behind a sewing machine near the back, stood.

"Hello again,"  she said to Ms. Pennyworth then looking at me added, "and look at you!  How cute those overalls are and they fit him perfectly don't they."  Her reaction to my overalls and her comments made it clear where they'd come from and somehow that made it a little less painful but more embarrassing.  The absence of anyone else also helped.

"The shoes were an excellent suggestion,"  Ms. Pennyworth said as the woman walked up and slightly past me. She smiled and said that she'd been using those brands for years. Perfect for babies too big for baby shoes. She was looking at my back side when she said that, making me uncomfortable and that got worse when she tugged upwards at the waist.

She could easily fit another diaper under those pants, she noted.  A comment that brought a nod from Ms. Pennyworth and her own comment as she added, "and that's why we're here."  The woman, satisfied, moved left and a few feet to a shelve and suddenly I was looking at what had to be the thickest diaper under plastic pants that I'd ever seen.  

"You're going to love these,"  The woman said to Ms. Pennyworth as the woman allowed the diaper to unfold.  She might love those, I mused, but there was no way I would and felt renewed pangs of fear.  She pointed to the room to our left as she added, "that room, the one by the mannequins, has a slightly larger changing table than the others."

"Thank you," Ms. Pennyworth said taking my hand and the diaper.  Not a diaper I mused, more like a cushion shaped like a diaper.  Yet there I was walking towards that changing room with my face on fire and that woman, no doubt, watching the waddle I tried hiding.

"Here,"  the woman said moving from another shelf towards us as she added, "almost forgot.  This will swaddle his genitals. It's protection so you can wear the diaper by itself."

"Thank you, "Ms. Pennyworth said to the woman, and added with a snicker facing me, "and you precious, are you ready to have your genitals swaddled?"

Mary Beth Sanford

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« Reply #3 on: August 13, 2007, 12:30:01 PM »
I think it was a joke or meant to be but she was holding a kind of pad, a bit wider perhaps than a pad and thinner but the image her comment fostered left me weak in the knees.  I walked side by side, past the mannequins and almost stopped.  Those mannequins were all different in sizes: baby child, teen and adult. It was like a family except they were all wearing the same style diaper.  The same diaper Ms. Pennyworth held.

"Amazingly thick isn't it,"  Ms. Pennyworth said to my look of astonishment.  It wasn't just thick, it was the thickest diaper I'd ever seen and slipped within a very large pair of plastic pants.  What I noticed, on the teenage mannequin, was it made him or her appear more baby like. Proportional, that was the word I was looking for and nodded to Ms. Pennyworth's comment.

"Why," I asked.  It just didn't make sense a diaper that thick and it had to weigh a ton I'd added and she laughed.  She laughed lightly handing me the diaper and I was shocked at how little it did weigh.  Two inches thick but it couldn't be all cotton and wasn't the shop owner said proudly.  She'd used layers of batting, she noted, sandwiched between cotton.  Batting I discovered was used for fluffy or puffiness.

"Honey, it's a play diaper,"  Ms. Pennyworth said answering my questioning look as she added, "sometimes you want the baby, no matter how old the baby is, to really look like a baby, and that might include not being able to walk very well.  In this diaper you can't walk very well and it's impossible to hide."

My first question, my only question actually was why. And another laugh.  There is the practical side of wearing diapers and the impractical side of wearing diapers Ms. Pennyworth said.  There is functional, as in the way I was wearing diapers and then the fantasy surroundings the wearing of diapers that she enjoyed. So far I was wearing diapers because they were functional.  Since I was wearing diapers anyway, I might just as well have fun with them on occation and that was the perfect occasional diaper.

She moved to the changing room, held the curtain aside and smiled. I took one last look at the mannequins and walked past the privacy curtain and into a changing room but not like most.  This one had a table holding a thin mattress covered in paper from a role.  I was reminded of a doctors exam table were it not for the pastel baby blocks decorating the mattress.

I was use to my overalls finding them very comfortable, not having a belt or waist band, and was reaching for the strap to take them off when Ms. Pennyworth stopped me.  She was going to use the snaps, she said and I had no idea what she was talking about until she pointed.  My heart froze when I noticed the inside seam of my overalls and those snaps.

I'd gone outside, in full view of the world, in overalls that just didn't appear like a toddlers, but were, in fact, exactly like a toddlers and all I could do was look at her in shock. She patted my hand still resting on the strap telling me that until now it wasn't an issue and it didn't have to be either.  Perhaps not to her but I was the one wearing those things.

Reality was creeping in as she patted the table.  Some of this was fun, some of it very exciting but she was taking me places I wasn't sure I wanted to go.  Places too public, to risky and worse, it didn't seem to bother her in the least, and there I was sitting on that changing table watching the legs of my overalls coming open, snap by snap.

When I laid back all of the snaps were undone and she had full access now to the diaper I was wearing.  I felt childish, babyish I suppose and more so when she eased the flaps up and back to tug at my baby pants.  In a way they made sense, those snaps, but I was sure anyone seeing them wouldn't see them that way.  Were it not so thrilling suddenly I might have said something more. 

Odd to find myself getting excited when everything that was happening should have terrified me.  I was in a store for babies, albeit babies in all sizes, dressed as a baby or at least a toddler and about to have my diaper changed and what a diaper I mused as mine came off within the baby pants. What forced me to ignore everything but what Ms. Pennyworth was doing was the touch of that pad or as she called it my swaddling cloth.

I didn't notice it before but that small bit of material, large enough to cover my genitals, and even in the state I was in, was not actually cotton and plastic but plastic and satin.  There was no doubt of that the instant it touched me and the instant it touched me I could almost not care about what it was scaring me.  Even more so when she moved it and she was moving it very sensuously.  My threshold, try as I might to keep it at bay, came quickly and even then she continued moving it till there was no trace of my orgasm.

The play diaper went under me then and by then I was completely beyond caring.  I had to increase the spread of my legs to accommodate how wide it was and instead of bunching the way my regular diaper did when it was between my legs this one simply puffed more. Like squeezing a fluffy pillow I mused.  More puff on either side, thinner in the middle. There was no need for diaper pins and I noticed then how cleaver a design it was.

The panties, those baby panties, were made with narrow pockets, no more than an inch or so wide that ran along the back and front.  It held the diaper against the baby pants and the baby pants closed with snaps.  What made me smile, and I shouldn't have considering what was happening, was I could still easily see that puffiness even laying flat.

My legs were still open when she began snapping the pants legs closed.  There were four, maybe five, snaps at the crotch and at least twice that many closing each leg.  I listened to each and every one of them click closed. By the time she was done the seam looked almost like a seam again but that was hardly an issue given how odd those overalls now looked.

I stood and in standing brought my legs together and felt as if I was straddling a damn saddle.  There was a soft firmness between my legs that made me want to bow them and in the mirror the reason was obvious.  There was absolutely no doubt, no doubt whatsoever that I was in a diaper. Even the sides of the overalls puffed slightly but the front and back made it look like I was wearing a beach ball underneath.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Ms. Pennyworth said moving to the back and from there she patted my behind. I could only just feel it. Inches of diaper was between her hand and my bottom.  Then a voice from the shop owner asking if it fit OK. 

Ms. Pennyworth, patting me softer this time, said the diaper fit perfectly and from behind she slid her hands to the front. Her left hand, after lingering for a time moved to the pocket that the Sun decorated reaching in to grasp the pacifier and smoothly teased my lips before I took it. She then clasped my shoulders and turned me sideways.  A very big beach ball I mused.

"Come on and let's show you off,"  Ms. Pennyworth said taking my hand and adding, "and I want to see how it looks with you walking about."  I was nursing the pacifier realizing she was taking me into the shop again and thought to reach for it, to hide it but she stopped my hand and it was too late to argue as we moved past the curtain.

"Oh how adorable,"  the woman said and I blushed.  I took one last look at the mannequins understanding easily just how thick the diaper I wore was and then, as that reality hit, Ms. Pennyworth gave me a gentle nudge asking me to walk to the shops door and back again.  I walked off trying to shorten my stride to lesson the odd swing my bottom had. 

I visualized a duck coming out of the water at the park, waddling across the lawn for a piece of bread.  I didn't want to turn back, but I'd reached the door and when I did I was looking at the two women looking at me.  Pacifier, thick diaper and those toddler overalls above white baby shoes. A model on a runway for baby products and what a sight I must be I mused.

"Definitely two of those and didn't you tell me about having one lined,"  Ms. Pennyworth said as I reached her.  The woman said yes although I wasn't sure about the question till the woman moved off and back again. The diaper she held now was exactly like the diaper I wore but she was showing Ms. Pennyworth the lining. 

White satin although a little thinner so it could be washed, she noted, allowing Ms. Pennyworth to run her hand over it.  I realized that the lining, the shiny side would go against my skin and shivered a little. I felt a little guilt at that thought.

Ms. Pennyworth was watching my face and suddenly smiled as she told the woman she'd take that lined one as well, the one I wanted to wear she said with a tiny bit of a smirk. I knew she knew when she said that and blushed.  So much for keeping a straight face, I decided and wasn't sure what to do with myself for a second.

I wanted to assert myself, not much, just enough to gain back even a tiny bit of control as both women continued admiring me and that diaper Ms. Pennyworth now held.  Besides, I was curious about this woman and her shop, wondering, when I finally did ask, how she came to make baby clothes for adults.  I shouldn't have asked.

Babies, she said, above thirty pounds, rarely fit into the so called normal diapers or, for that matter, any of the regular baby clothes.  Moreover there were babies that were very big for any number of reasons but still babies. That had been her original focus and she laughed then motioning me to a cork board above a desk.

I was looking at babies, all different kinds of babies and some very large.  A kind of history of clients she said. One in particular, obviously a girl and standing with her mother in the same shop I stood in, was eighteen months old she said.  That baby girl, she noted, had a waist and chest measurement almost two inches larger than mine. 

What brought me to wish I hadn't asked, was her saying that I wasn't all that big to begin with. I was, she noted, about in the middle if she had to place me within a range of sizes she's sewn.  Although what brought her into the adult world was a client, a woman, and not too long ago, that wanted authentic baby clothes for her teenage son. 

She didn't offer a reason and then shocked me a little more when she pointed back to that baby girl.  That baby girl was neither a baby nor a girl and in fact, that son. What brought a blush to my face, again, was Ms. Pennyworth suddenly taking an interest in that picture. 

What kept my blush was a not so little baby dress and matching diaper cover that she proudly showed Ms. Pennyworth.  I wished with all of my heart, that I was a little bit bigger or that dress a little bit smaller and that Ms. Pennyworth would stop looking at me that way. She was holding the panties and judging the distance between her hands those panties would most likely fit as easily as that dress. 

It was a blush pink organdy in two layers with the top most layer holding the lace and ribbons, and typical of a baby's dress, it had no waist.  There was a slight bodice, very short, puffy sleeves and the rest the skirt.  A very full skirt spreading out over what she called a self slip which I gathered was also typical. Of course, and this she said looking at me, it would be a lot shorter on me than on a real baby.  Ms. Pennyworth didn't need any more ideas or encouragement I wanted to say but didn't.

What happened next was chilling, only because that woman paused, as if in thought. I could read her mind almost and as if to get a better estimate on sizes, she lifted the dress in front of her.  She was a few feet away but clearly she was eyeing me behind that dress and that gave me goose bumps.  Then I got the oddest question and no, I said, I wasn't working.  I was still looking I said in my defense as if it was mom asking me that question - again.

Why that question came while holding that dress up wasn't clear at all until she said she could use somebody and that I would be perfect.  Perfect for what she didn't say, nor did I want to know and didn't ask although Ms. Pennyworth did.  Again I was left out of the loop as Ms. Pennyworth and this woman talked.

The woman was producing a catalog although it was strictly going to be on-line mostly.  She was selling a lot of things through two auction houses and a store front.  There was that catalog, that store front, and this store besides.  All of it a little more than she could handle because she was sewing besides. Having someone help her here, perhaps on-line as well and comfortable wearing baby clothes, she said, would be wonderful.

I was not comfortable wearing baby clothes, although I didn't say that, and definitely not something so babyish or girlish as what she was holding. I didn't say it, but I thought it, and I also wanted desperately for Ms. Pennyworth to put those panties down somewhere. Looking at a pair of blush pink nylon panties with ruffles and lace, in her hands, made me want to run.

It would pay minimum wage, she couldn't afford much more than that she noted, but, she added, "there would be generous product discounts".  She could be very flexible on the hours so I could work around school and my homework.  Trouble was I wasn't there interviewing for a job I wanted to say but didn't.  It wasn't the dress or those panties, or that generous product discount comment she made but the fact it was a job. 

Truth is I wasn't interested in any of the low paying jobs I'd filled out applications for so far, and while this one was odd, very odd, it actually was a job she was talking about.  I know mom would be thrilled if I came home and said I was working. Honestly, it was the prospects of a job and not the products I was looking at. 

Ms. Pennyworth was thrilled and then she said something else that struck me odd when she noted that I wouldn't have to commute very far.  There was at least seven miles between our apartments and this shop.  Too far to walk which meant commuting and I said that.  She nodded her acknowledgment and then noted, with a smile, that her house was in escrow. 

That house, which I had no idea she was buying, was not more than a mile from here, she noted happily.  Imagine what my mom would say, Ms. Pennyworth also mentioned with a broad smile, if I came home today and told mom I not only had a job but a place of my own.  As it happens, mom was also nagging me occasionally about living on my own so she could have her spare room back.

What gave me goose bumps on my goose bumps was Ms. Pennyworth, in a very seductive voice, saying she couldn't imagine a better boarder.  What made me want to set down suddenly was her flipping the ruffles on those panties.  A job and a room and all I had to do, it seemed, was say yes to these two woman.  So simple, that yes, and yet the ramifications left me breathless.

I was standing there in a very thick diaper looking at one just like it but lined in satin, wearing toddler style overalls that I'd just discovered had snaps on the legs.  My boss, if I said yes to her, was holding a baby dress that would easily fit me, and my landlady, if I also said yes to her, was holding the matching panties.  Both women, each clearly eager to have that yes, stood waiting in quiet anticipation.

My head was swirling with thoughts, some of them, I was sure I shouldn't be thinking.  A few of those thoughts I couldn't get out of my head even if I wanted to.

Mary Beth Sanford

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« Reply #4 on: August 23, 2007, 01:36:31 PM »
How ironic I thought!  A year ago when it was clear I'd start needing diapers I could have died right then and there.  It was catastrophic a boy my age destined to spend the rest of his days wetting and changing his own diapers and now, suddenly, diapers were quickly becoming the center of my universe.  

Except something was wrong with this picture that was appearing so rosy. I wasn't sure what it was, but somewhere in my elation there was a nagging thought that something wasn't right.  Something about this whole thing was just too damn good to be true.

I was looking at Ms. Pennyworth, then at the woman offering me a job and somewhere along the line I connected the two.  Coincidence?  What would the odds of that be?  A place to live where I could wear diapers and a place to work where I could wear diapers.  What really were the odds, I mused.

"Am I being had," I whispered but loud enough so that both heard me.  As distasteful as that might be it was better knowing than jumping up and down like an idiot.  I hung my head in a clarity that just my question had fostered almost not needing an answer.  Come on, I mused to myself as the silence grew longer, how stupid do you guys think I am I wondered?

"Why don't I lock up for a bit so we can talk,"  the shop owner said to Ms. Pennyworth who nodded a yes.  So it was true I decided.  They'd planned this and whatever their plan was, it had failed because I'd caught on.  I didn't leave for the obvious reasons but I wanted to. Badly.  Damn them.

"So what's this all about,"  I asked now sitting, reluctantly, at the shop owners kitchen table.  She'd locked her shop door, turned the sign so it read closed and invited me and Ms. Pennyworth to her kitchen table.  I was waiting, arms crossed, for their reasons, painfully.  There was a deep sense of disappointment in having to sit there and a little embarrassment given what I was wearing.

"Mark,"  Ms Pennyworth whispered, paused looking at me with a great deal of sympathy. I wasn't comfortable with that look, nor what it might mean and waited with even less patients than I'd had just moments ago.  The story she told made me angry, so angry, then a little less so.  How odd that story and in a way I had been had, but it wasn't even close to what I imagined.

Seems that when my mother learned of my injuries, from the doctor performing the surgery, she knew I'd have problems.  Then there was the difficulty of finding bathrooms, always at the worse possible moments, and twice I hadn't made it.  Deciding on diapers was incredibly hard and worse wearing them.  I knew I'd grown depressed, shamed, and embarrassed enough that I was becoming a recluse.  

Ms. Pennyworth said she came into the picture fully when my mother broke down over asking how I was.  It was, in fact, Ms. Pennyworth's suggestion to begin this process she had been putting me through.  I had been had I said but went silent again when she held her hand up to calm me.  The process had been her idea and no, I had not been had.  

What Ms. Pennyworth claimed, a claim that kept me quiet for the remainder of it was her telling me that this attempt was to get me to actually like my diapers.  When I did interrupted again, reminding her that we had gotten together, accidentally, and only because mom lost her key she smiled then.  

Mom it seems had not really lost her key and the only real bit of luck was those telltale wet spots that I'd had.  Were those not there she would have found another reason to diaper me.  The key, in that crucial first contact was changing my diaper and she had.  The rest was thought out, but only as a general plan because psychodramas, Ms. Pennyworth's actual expertise, is often adlibbed.

Psychodrama, when I was about to ask what it was, is a methodology designed to help identify, isolate and sometimes modify behavior.  It is a relatively new therapeutic discipline based on the theories of Dr. J. Moreno, whereby the use of props, specific actions and methods suitable for those props are introduced as one might in a play.  

In this case the play itself was being defined around what life might be like if nothing changed other than ones view of it.  In my case, specifically, Ms. Pennyworth was introducing a kind of "what if" as in what if I actually liked my diapers.  

She was in fact defining, developing and ultimately facilitating a fetish.  A fetish she noted that would ultimately become a constructive behavioral change as to how I viewed my diapers.  she had me admit, at least up to now, that it had worked.  I gave her a kind of begrudging admiration for that part simply because she had succeeded in that part and remarkably well.

However, and I pointed this out with a little sadness, it didn't change the social nature of my affection.  She might have succeeded in fostering a fetish, but that didn't change world, just me.  I mean who in their right mind would find a guy that wore diapers attractive let alone one that now had a fetish for them.

It was her laugh that made me sit up because it was sarcastic enough to suggest something more positive than the negative - again.  Ms. Pennyworth sat there quietly allowing me to grow more curious till I thought I'd explode before she said, "what if there was another person, a nice young lady, about my age perhaps, that also liked diapers."

Fat chance of that I mused just before saying so, although I didn't.  It was then that Ms. Pennyworth suggested as an example, I thought, about a girl like Susan and I nearly did wet myself.  Susan of course would be ideal obviously, and I said as much, because she already knew about my minor handicap and the diapers. Knowing that, however, wouldn't change what she might do if I told her I liked them as well.

Then it struck me full in the face again, because Ms. Pennyworth didn't know about Susan or shouldn't have.  I'd never mention Susan in any real context.  Which meant that Susan was in on this and suddenly I wanted to scream.  Only it wasn't anything like what I suspected.  

Ms. Pennyworth, again, held her hand up.  Susan wasn't part of my psychodrama, in point of fact, I was actually part of hers.  I was actually contributing to Susan's own solution over her own dilemma.

I sat back truly flabbergasted and then Susan, shyly, walked in and sat down, but as she did so she took my hand and whispered thanks.  Before me, Susan said, there wasn't another boy that she would dare tell about her self and now I'd made it so easy.  Susan, it seems, has enjoyed wearing diapers for almost as long as her mother's been making them.

That's when the shop owner, Rose by the way, turned to her daughter and said she loved her no matter what she did to make herself happy, and Rose, thanks also to Ms. Pennyworth's efforts, no longer saw Susan's affliction as her fault. I kept looking at Susan now utterly amazed.  The girl of my dreams truly was the girl of my dreams.

Not only that, but the job offer was legitimate and since Susan was also working there we would be working together.  As in modeling together as well, Susan said nudging me.  She would model the baby girl clothes and I would model the baby boy clothes, I said nudging her back.

What brought on the sudden gloom in Susan wasn't clear until she said, "and what about those baby boys that sometimes like being baby girls?  How could they ever relate to a baby girl dressed as a baby girl, when a baby boy dressed as a baby girl would make more sense to them.

I said, with some amount of reluctance, that doing something like that would make me a bit too uncomfortable.  Why that made Susan laugh wasn't clear until she reached her hand out to take the play diaper Ms. Pennyworth was still holding.  Just how uncomfortable would it be, Susan asked, stroking the white satin lining that just a short time ago I thought might be fun to wear and I blushed.  She had me and I knew it and she knew I knew it.

I could have continued protesting and might have were it not for the fact that I was feeling pretty safe right then so I shrugged a little giving Susan a kind of answer without giving her an answer.  There is only so much ego and mine was pretty well stripped bare at this point.  There was little left to be said except there was still mom.

When I mentioned mom it was Ms. Pennyworth's turn to laugh and why do woman have to laugh like that before telling you what it is they are laughing about.  Seems that mom had already placed a fairly substantial order with Rose based on what she believed would be a happy outcome.  I wasn't sure what a layette was until Rose told me and that brought on a new round of blushing.

Mom, I discovered, had ordered diapers, plastic pants, wrap tee-shirts, onesies and a couple of sleepers she was sure I'd like by the time this ended.  An attempt on her part, Ms. Pennyworth noted, to foster the notion that it was going to be OK to dress as a baby which made it OK to wear diapers.  

OK that I like diapers and being babied in them?  How would fostering the notion of being more like a baby make it easier I wondered.  I sat quietly considering what Ms. Pennyworth said wondering as well if they knew how embarrassing this whole thing was, then suddenly thinking how wonderful besides?  I was looking at Susan deciding what mom would think of her and Susan smiled.

It got better, and the reason for that smile, because I didn't know, until Susan told me, that mom knew Susan and, more importantly, about Susan.  She found Susan by way of Ms. Pennyworth and delighted that Susan went to the same school I did.  More so because Susan had also struggled with diapers or rather her own internal conflicts over the love of them.  

So there I was...  Mom eagerly willing to baby me, Ms. Pennyworth wanted to rent me a room, or in their words, my own nursery, and I had a job modeling baby clothes for adults. On top of the there was Susan who loved diapers, as much as I suddenly. If I'd had to plan this I wasn't sure I could looking at Ms. Pennyworth with a touch of amazement on my face.

"It's what I do honey,"  Ms. Pennyworth said patting the back of my hand.

"And I've got to get back to work,"  Rose said pushing herself up from the table.

"Are you two going to be OK," Ms. Pennyworth asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I will be as soon as I get changed," Susan said and added, "if I can find someone willing to change me that is."

"That would be me,"  I said smiling as I picked up the satin lined diaper.

"I'd rather wear a regular diaper,"  Susan said smiling.

"What's good for the goose is good for the gander,"  I said standing and taking Susan's hand.

Mary Beth Sanford

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« Reply #5 on: August 25, 2007, 02:30:52 PM »
"Don't you mean what's good for the gander is good for the goose,"  Susan said.

"OK, you're right but if I've got wear so much padding so should you,"  I said.

"I was hoping you'd say that,"  Susan noted turning for the stairs that led back to the store.

"Were are you going,"  I asked.

"I need baby clothes.  You don't have baby pants or diaper pins and these slacks I'm wearing are never going to go over that diaper,"  Susan said as she began down the stairs.

I was beside myself with joy and the prospects of putting her into a diaper for the first time.  Also for the first time I felt truly free from most of the guilt I'd carried for so long.  Not to mention how the diaper felt on me. I could hardly wait.

"Here we go,"  Susan said returning not too long after she left and holding an armful of clothes.

I watched happily as she sat a pair of very cute ruffled panties down, then a bib style jumper and pink tee-shirt that would match my overalls.  We'd be dressed similar I mused as she finished and smiled at me.

"Still sure about that gander and goose thing,"  Susan asked.

"Absolutely.  Equal rights and all that,"  I said

"Great and you're right of course,"  Susan said, paused and added, "so take those overalls off."

"Take my overalls off for what,"  I asked.

"For you baby pants and jumper,"  Susan said laughing as she added, "the goose is going to be the gander and the gander the goose."

"Those?  No way.  Those are definitely for girls,"  I said.

"Absolutely for girls.  That's why they are pink, ruffled and have that little bow at the back,"  Susan said.

"Seriously, it's been hard enough getting into these things," I said picking at the strap of my overalls.

"For this too work, you've got to be able to switch and since I'm willing to switch I don't see why you can't.  Besides, think about this... If you're wearing a jumper then it's going to be easier for me to play with you.  Oh, and did I tell you how turned on I get when I can play with another babies ruffled bottom,"  Susan said smiling wickedly.

I was stuck, I knew that and I knew my protest were for the sake of my ego more than anything else and laughed a little with that thought.  Considering what I was already wearing and what I'd been wearing I'd pretty much sat aside my ego.  The other thing I was thinking about was Susan and if she really did get turned on over those ruffles.

She moved to me and undid the straps holding my overalls on and I was sure she was testing me to see how far I'd push my protest.  I'd decided not to push it at all and a second later, after standing, my overalls fell to the floor.  So too the baby pants she tugged past my diaper.

There was a twinge of embarrassment watching her gathering those baby girlish panties but I was committed by then.  I stepped into them with the ruffles at the back and that hint of a bow topping them as Susan tugged the panties up to my diaper.  Pink nylon lined in a soft white plastic panty came over the diaper and with that done I got a kiss and my ruffles fluffed.

She exchanged my tee-shirt for the pink one edged in a cute tiny lace in white and a nearly perfect fit.  So was the jumper that I discovered was lined in a light pink satin.  The jumper stopped short of the last ruffle on the rhumba panties and Susan teased me a little while warning me not to bend, sit, walk or move at all, laughing as she gave that warning.

And just about the time I was almost embarrassed beyond my capacity to laugh it off she laid down and gave me the cutest look as she worked his slacks off.  She was down to her panties and the smile grew slightly more wicked. My hands were shaking slightly as I tugged her nylon panties down before gathering up her diaper.

I sat on the beds edge laying the diaper flat so I could slid it under her as her left hand resting alongside and between us moved.  I had slid the diaper under her as she rested her hand on my leg just above the knee and the hand move slightly but constantly as I started to powder her.  Her hand had reached the elastic of my baby pants as I brought her diaper together to pin it closed.

"I couldn't play like this if you were wearing pants," Susan said as several of her fingers eased between my skin and the elastic.  She was poking under my baby pants and diaper as I pinned her's closed.  What she said was true enough to make me nod a yes but it was the very tip of her middle finger that really convinced me.

"Oh, my baby girl likes her ruffled panties doesn't she,"  Susan said when it was obvious I was reacting.

"It's not the ruffled panties and you know it,"  I said in defense of an ego that no longer had any need for defending and I smiled.

"And don't stick me with those diaper pins,"  She warned as she slid her hand further into my diaper.

She was making it almost impossible to move through the steps as I pushed one of her diaper pins into the two layers.  She looked so incredibly sweet laying there with the diaper closing around her and I dropped my head, paused and gave into the attention I was getting.  You can only resist for so long I mused as a moan softly eased past my lips.

I could hardly breath sitting there still leaning slightly holding myself with my right arm extended.  She had brought her hand out and was rubbing the girlish baby pants over the puffy diaper and how amazing it was that even the thickness of what I wore didn't lesson the pleasure.

"I could do that again,"  I said.

"Duh," she added with a snicker as I eased her diaper fully closed with the second diaper pin.  She cooperated fully as I put her into the baby pants I was wearing and like I had stood for the overalls.  She was wearing her flats when I finished dressing her and with the last button at the side she was done.

"Come on and lets go help mom before she fires us,"  Susan said.

"Wait," I said in a renewed panic as I added, "lets switch."

"For what,"  Susan asked tugging at my skirt which did little good considering I could see the puffy mound gathering between my legs and a full row of lace at the back.  Not to mention I was wearing a baby girl's jumper.

"Hello?  Do you see that bit of lace,"  I said.

"I do and so will mom and so will any of the costumers that happen in while we are working,"  Susan said and added, "and what a cute little salesbaby you'll make if that customer happens to be a little sissy baby like you."

"If you're trying to convince met to go down there like this you're not doing a very good job of it,"  I said.

She laughed, nearly skipped for the dresser and back again and between my own sarcastic snickers had my mouth filled with a baby's pacifier.  Mine pink, hers a powder blue as she took my hand and tugged me towards the door.  I was still within the remnants of a warmth she'd brought on and that sensitivity when I walked.  what the hell, I mused.

"Well look at my two adorable little helpers,"  Susan's mother said as we both hit the landing together as she added, "how cute you two look.  Come to work I hope."

Susan nodded and I followed suit.  Susan was to unpack a half dozen UPS boxes and start putting those items they held into the shop and I was shown where the vacuum cleaner was to start cleaning.  Susan's mother went right back to her sewing and with the exception of those first few remarks that was it.

I didn't hear the tinkle of the bell when the front door opened as I was pushing the upright back and forth about mid-way through the store.  It was Susan's face that hinted someone was behind me as I turned.  I went beet red instantly as the man and woman smiled lightly, nervously at me and then Susan.

Clearly the man was as nervous as I was when his gaze turned from me to look anywhere but where Susan and I was.  The woman, on the other hand, was looking directly at me and I cringed.  Susan, right after we began working had taken a moment to slip two little girl barrettes on either side of my hair which I allowed for no good reason and now deeply regretted.

"Can I help you," Susan said as if it was a perfectly normal scene only I wasn't feeling normal at all.  I smiled lamely at the woman and avoiding the man's eyes.

"He's going back into diapers and I'd love to see those same style panties on him as that young man is wearing,"  the woman said happily.

"Rhumba panties,"  Susan said.

"Exactly," the woman answered as Susan moved to the counter for the sewing tape measure.  Her mother, looking up, smiled and went right back to her sewing.  Obviously she was confident Susan could handle this although all I wanted to do was melt away.

I watched Susan with the tape and a four by six sizing card add the young man's measurements.  A few minutes of that and she was showing the woman their line of diapers.  I, meanwhile, was winding the cord with my back to them realizing it was lessor of two evils since I would either have to face them and my own humiliation or show off my ruffles.

"You are adorable,"  the woman said startling me.  She was right behind me slightly off to my left.  Susan, I noticed, was showing the man diapers holding one of them as he held another.

"Thank you,"  I said not clear what else to say.

"Forgive me if I being too forward, but we're a little new at this and I'd like to ask you a couple of questions if I may,"  the woman said extending her hand as she added, "I'm May and that's my boyfriend Rick over there."

"Martin," I said nervously wanting desperately to rip at least the two little girlish barrettes from my hair.

"How can I get my boyfriend to be as comfortable in those things as you are,"  she asked.

It was so funny her asking me that and I almost told her I wasn't which would have been the truth right then.  What I realized though was that the woman was serious and what I might say might have a real impact on her and him.

"Does he like diapers," I asked blushing at the question since it implied I did.

"Actually yes and no.  I've only just discovered he's wearing them at night for a chronic bed wetting problem he's had since he was a kid.  Had a hell of a time getting him to even confess that he was wearing them and then, and I'm not sure when exactly, I discovered I like him in his diapers.  I guess one thing led to another and I talked him into cloth instead of the disposables he wears now.  Sounds crazy doesn't it,"  the woman said with her own blush.

"Not really,"  I said thinking back over the days I'd been through.

"If he's got to wear them and if you're supportive then that should be enough to get him into most of the other baby things but you've got to get him over his hang-ups,"  I said smiling at that notion.

"How do I do that," the woman asked.

"Lots of tender loving care did it for me,"  I said honestly.

"That's easy enough,"  she said.

"As for these things, I'm not sure.  I suppose it would be up to him on how much he wants to take it and that too would be less difficult if you like him in these things,"  I said.

"May I see more of your panties?  I mean if it's OK to even ask that sort of thing,"  the woman said.


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