Letâ€™s start with a little info about me, shall we? I have been into diapers for as long as I can remember. I would say I am more of a diaper lover than an adult baby. This is not to say that I have never been given to infantile urges. Iâ€™ve been known to suck a pacifier once in a while and I must admit that holding a baby bottle with both hands and happily suckling away is the height of ecstasy for me. Oral fixation much? But the real thrill has always come from strapping a smooth, crinkling, virgin white diaper around my waist and letting nature take its course. Soak the front, fill the seat, and then fuck my fist like crazy while chastising myself for being a naughty diaper boy that will probably never be promoted to big boy undies.
I am a member of a few online Diaper/Wetting communities, but I am a pretty shy guy and tend to be more of a spectator than a first string starter. I have always been afraid of being found out and I have always felt that this fetish of mine is â€˜wrongâ€™ on some fundamental level. A grown man willingly diapering up and then actually USING the diaper for its intended purpose? Most would say thatâ€™s just plain sick. However, two things have changed as Iâ€™ve gotten older. The first is that I have gotten over a lot of the fear that I used to have. I realize, now, that everybody has their kinks and the world of sex and sexuality is, to quote Forrest Gump, like a box of chocolates. You open the box and there are all different shapes and flavours and no two are alike. Some people love truffles, some love chocolate turtles. Heck, some even love plain old white chocolate! But everybody chooses their favourite and they all walk away happy.
The second is that in the past year or so I have really been drawn to the idea of becoming a daddy to another diaper boy. Most of my dirty fantasies revolve around several daddy/son scenarios and itâ€™s starting to drive me crazy! Well, I have had enough of fantasies. Itâ€™s about time I did something about it. I am 37 now and while I may not be Menâ€™s Health cover model material I do keep myself fit by going to the gym four times a week. I am 6â€™2â€, 180 lbs, with a light salt and pepper beard that matches my short cropped hair. Daddy material? Troy thinks so. Please let me tell you about how we met and how I finally became the daddy I had wanted to be.
Troy and I met online. He lived in the same mid-sized city in England that I lived in (I had moved from New York to the UK a year ago.) We had chatted for almost two weeks and in that time I learned that he was 23 years old, liked to play rugby and go to the gym, and that he had just come out of the closet to his friends but he didnâ€™t have the courage to tell his family yet. I had been down this same road several years before so I tried to give him some advice and he seemed grateful. Troy also told me he had discovered at the age of twelve that he liked pretending that he was a toddler and doing all of the things that come with being a toddler. He told me of his first nappy experience and how he was looking for a daddy that would allow him to play out his ab fantasies. He just moved into his first flat by himself a few months prior and he said it was the best thing that ever happened to him. He loved being able to spend all weekend in nothing but a diaper and a onesie watching films on the couch with his favourite teddy bear Bobby.
We talked a lot about different aspects of being ab/dl, turn ons, turn offs. What he would and would not be willing to do. We both agreed that we would like to meet up to see what happens but neither of us had done anything like this before. After much deliberation we agreed on Friday, 6:00 at Starbuckâ€™s. If we got along in person and liked the looks of each other we would then go back to one of our flats (we both lived in walking distance of the city centre) and see how things progressed. I told him that he should bring his own supplies in case we chose my place and I also told him, in my most stern daddy voice, not to have a poo before we met.
Thursday was tough getting through and Friday at work was worse. When my work day was done I nearly ran home, took a quick shower, and made myself presentable. When I got to the Starbuckâ€™s my heart was racing and my mouth was as dry as the Sahara. Was I really going to go through with this? What if this was some elaborate prank? What if he didnâ€™t show? I supposed him not showing would be the worst that could happen so I summoned some courage from somewhere and opened the door. My eyes swept the room as I stepped inside. There werenâ€™t too many people. A group of teens in one corner, a mother and daughter close to the front windows and a guy in his early twenties at a tall table. I tried to study him without being too obvious, but he didnâ€™t look like Troy had described himself. Then a movement caught my eye from the far corner. I glanced that way and saw a twenty something guy flipping hurriedly through a magazine. He was clearly not reading the magazine at all as his eyes were trained on me. I noticed a navy gym bag at his feet which seemed to be packed pretty full and I knew this must be Troy.
He must have known who I was at that same moment because he gave me a little wave. I started towards him but stopped. I wanted to stay there for a minute longer and just look at him. He was gorgeous. He had described himself perfectly and, I must say, kind of undersold himself a bit. He was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and Adidas trainers and a long sleeved jumper with New York written across the front. I guess that was a nod to where I came from. I could already tell that I really liked this kid and I hoped to hell that he would feel the same way. I realized how strange I must look just standing there staring so I got my ass in motion and made my way to where he sat.
â€œTroy?â€ I said.
â€œYeah. I wasnâ€™t sure it was you but then I saw the gym bag and New York all over your jumper and figured it had to be. Have you been waiting long?â€
â€œNo, not long at all.â€
It was at this point that I noticed just how nervous he looked. His right leg was bouncing up and down in a perfect sixteenth note rhythm and he was looking around the room like he was casing the joint.
â€œI was waiting for you to get here before ordering,â€ he said. â€œBut would you mind if we skipped out of here and went to the pub instead? I think I could do with something stiffer than a coffee.â€
Truth be told, a drink sounded like a fine idea right about then. â€œI think thatâ€™s a great idea! Shall we?â€
We made our way to the pub next door, ordered a pint, and found a table. We made mostly small talk to begin with. He seemed to be loosening up a little. I noticed that he had an amazing smile, an infectious laugh and a real boyish charm. As we got to the bottom of our glasses he said he needed to use the toilet and that he would bring two fresh pints when he returned.
The whole time he was gone I found myself thinking of what he was doing in the restroom. Was he pissing in the urinal like a man or has he gone into a stall to sit down and wee like a little boy? Maybe he was wearing a pull up and right now he was standing at the mirror, going through the motions of washing his hands while what he was really doing was peeing in his pants like a little baby. Nobody would be the wiser, Iâ€™m sure, as long as he didnâ€™t leak. I was getting all hot and bothered with these thoughts when he appeared at the table with two fresh pints. As he set them down on the table he must have known something was up (literally) as he looked down at my crotch and got a cheeky little grin on his face.
â€œYou miss me?â€ he said.
â€œIs it that obvious? Was everything okay in the toilet? No problems?â€
He raised an eyebrow. â€œNo problems. I can use the potty like a good boy when I have to!â€
This kid was way too adorable. How lucky had I been to find him? He must have given himself a pep talk or something while he was in the bathroom because he seemed like a different person than the one I met in the cafÃ©. Or it was the beer. I didnâ€™t know or care. Either way, his trip to the bathroom gave me a great opportunity to open the conversation to bathroom behaviour.
â€œWhile you were in the toilet I was wondering how exactly you were relieving yourself?â€
Troy laughed! I must admit, it was a pretty strange question.
â€œYou mean did I have to go #1 or #2? You should know the answer to that as you did pretty much forbid me to go #2â€
â€œNo, not that,â€ I said. â€œThough it is nice to know you are doing as I asked. I was just wondering what youâ€™re wearing under those jeans.â€
â€œOh, I got it!â€ He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and then in a low voice â€œIâ€™m wearing a pair of white training pants with cartoon airplanes all over them. Theyâ€™re my favourite pair!â€
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. â€œThatâ€™s cute,â€ I said. I opened my mouth to add something else then shut it just as quickly. I wasnâ€™t sure if I should proceed further with the questions that were in my head. I thought we were hitting it off, but it was definitely still possible to scare him off. Oh, what the hell? I had come too far to hold back.
â€œAre they dry?â€ I asked.
â€œYeah, pretty much. Though I will admit that when Iâ€™m wearing them I sometimes donâ€™t finish all the way and just let the last bit dribble right into them.â€
â€œNaughty boy,â€ I scolded. â€œSo what youâ€™re telling me is that theyâ€™re a little damp?â€
He looked at me sheepishly across the table. â€œYes.â€
We talked a little more about what kinds of things he had in his bag. Obviously, there were diapers. But he also had some of his bear Bobby, a pair of overalls with snaps up the inside legs, a footed sleeper, changing mat, bath toys, and some Drynites. Of course, I had forgotten about the Drynites. These were a crucial part of the role play that he wanted to act out.
We decided that we both wanted to continue this thing so we agreed we would walk to my flat and spend the night there. Before we left he said that he needed to use the restroom one more time.
â€œDo you want daddy to come with you or will you be okay by yourself?â€
He started to blush at this. â€œIâ€™ll be fine, dad. Jeez, you know I am eighteen years old. I donâ€™t need you to shake it for me.â€
And with those words spoken the role play had begun.