My Strange New Job, An ABDL Story, Chapters 4-6

They Grow Up So Quickly

“Which one is yours?” 

Lina glanced up as the thirty-something man settled onto the bench beside her. He was tall, almost lanky, with the vibe of a college professor or perhaps a mildly hip accountant: green sweater vest with an anti-Pebble Mine pin on the left breast, neatly trimmed beard with a few flecks of gray, chestnut hair just this side of untamed. He rested a leather messenger bag on the bench between them. English lit essays waiting to be graded, Lina guessed. Or maybe sheet music?

She pointed. “That’s my boy over there. Teddy.” 

“In the green jumper?” 

Lina shook her head. “No. Teddy’s the one, uh…pushing the dump truck in the sandbox.” 

Teddy was pushing more than just a toy dump truck. His bottom hovered an inch above the mounded sand. One hand rested on the yellow and black truck while the other was braced on the ground. He stared into space, lips pursed, his face red as an heirloom tomato. 

“Ah,” the man said. “The squat. I know that position well.” 

Lina sighed. “Indeed.” 

“Let me guess: you changed his diaper, what, an hour ago?” 

“I wish. Twenty minutes, tops. Right before we left home. And it was a messy one.” She shook her head. “How many times can one boy fill his pants in a day?”

The man smiled and extended a hand. His grip was firm but gentle. “Matt.” 

“Lina.”

“Nice to meet you, Lina.” He pointed. “That’s my girl over there. Ellie. Cute as a button, but she might give your little guy a run for his money in the stinky diaper department. I swear we can’t get through a week without a total blowout. On Tuesday, it was in the checkout line at Kroger.” 

Lina winced. “Yikes.”

“That’s what the cashier said.” Matt shrugged. “Comes with the territory, right?” 

“I guess it does. Seems like just yesterday I put Teddy back in diapers full-time. Those first few months were rough. He’d rip them off whenever I wasn’t home and use the toilet. Then he’d lie about it. As if I couldn’t see the fluff and beads all over the bathroom floor.”

“Not anymore, huh?”

She chuckled. “These days, I’m not even sure he knows he’s peed until I grab him for a change.” 

“Ellie was enamored with the idea of being my little forever-princess. She liked the cute stuff, at least. The clothes and the dolls. Pacifiers and storytime. And she loved not having to go to work anymore. The diapers were another story. But she’s adjusted.” 

Ellie rode one of the swings, pumping her legs slightly out of sync, blonde pigtails flipping back and forth. She kicked her white velcro sneakers out when she was partway through each arc, and then pulled them back in a half-second too late. 

“She’s adorable.” 

“She’s a handful, but I love her to bits.” 

They sat silently, watching their partners play in the warm afternoon sun. 

Ellie slid off the swing and walked over to the sandbox. She observed Teddy for a moment, then plopped down in the sand next to him and picked up a plastic shovel. She scooped a shovelful of sand and emptied it into the back of Teddy’s dump truck. He smiled at her. She smiled back. 

“Looks like Ellie might have made friends with your little guy,” Matt said. 

“Wouldn’t that be nice. I’ve been looking for a playmate for Teddy. We’ve been to a couple of get-togethers at the Bigs-N-Littles group on Market and Stuyvesant.”

Matt nodded. “We went once, too. Not really our vibe.” 

“Ours either. We met a boy and his mommy. They seemed nice. Until the biting.”

“The biting?” 

“No clue how it got started. Teddy still won’t talk about it. They were playing in the other room, then the next thing I knew, Teddy was screaming, blood running down his arm. I couldn’t believe it. They’re not actual toddlers, you know? And the worst part was, his mommy laughed it off, like it was no big deal.” 

“Baby boys will be baby boys?” Matt asked. 

“Pretty much. Teddy had the brat’s teeth marks on his wrist for two weeks.” 

“Some people,” Matt said, shaking his head.  

“You’d think with lifestyles like ours, there’d be some common values, right? Things all of us mommies and daddies just agree on without even having to talk about it.” 

“Like no biting.”

“Like no biting. Seems like a low bar when you say it out loud, doesn’t it? The vanilla world doesn’t get us. But sometimes, I don’t think I understand a lot of our people either.”

“I know what you mean.”  

They sat in silence, watching the two big babies play in the sand. 

Ellie wrinkled her nose and said something to Teddy that Lina couldn’t hear, but didn’t need to in order to guess the meaning. A moment later, she stood up and stomped over to the park bench. “He’s stinky!” 

Matt chuckled. “You sure that’s not you, darlin’?” He reached up and gave the sandy seat of her pink overalls a squeeze. 

She twisted away from him and glanced at Lina. “I use da potty.” 

“Sweetheart,” Matt said, “we’ve talked about this. Diapers are your potty. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Certainly not in front of Teddy’s mommy.” 

Teddy ambled over slowly. He stood a few feet back from the bench, eyeing the group suspiciously. Even the brisk, early-fall breeze and the scent of grilled onions and peppers drifting over from the hot dog stand across the square couldn’t cover the earthy stink of his freshly-loaded diaper. 

“Teddy, please come here,” Lina said, beckoning him closer with her finger.

He shook his head, his long, brown hair flopping around. “I’m playin.’”

“Teddy. Don’t make me ask you again.” 

He walked over with that awkward, bow-legged stance that Lina teasingly referred to as his ‘stinkypants shuffle.’ He scowled at her the whole way, as if his full diaper and subsequent embarrassment were her fault. At this distance, with his butt at eye level, the smell was overpowering. She glanced at Matt, wondering if she should apologize for the stench, then decided he must be used to these kinds of odors. 

“Smells like someone has stinky britches,” she said to Teddy. “Is that you, Sweet Pea?” 

“Just toots,” Teddy said with resolve.  

“It’s him, it’s him!” Ellie shouted, pointing. “He pooped his pants!” 

Teddy shot her a withering glare. 

Lina reached up and patted the sizeable lump in the back of his denim shorts. “Looks like someone left Mommy a big ol’ present in his diapie. Why don’t we go take care of that before you start leaking in your pants. Say goodbye to your little friend.” 

Teddy’s scowl deepened. “I don’t wanna. I’m playin’.”

Lina pulled his diaper bag onto the bench. Public bathroom changes were never fun, but at least Lil’ Park had a family restroom.  

“We should probably get going soon, too,” Matt said to Ellie.

“No! I wanna keep playin’ wif Teddy,” Ellie said. “We’re making a princess castle.” 

Matt and Lina exchanged a look. Matt shrugged. 

“You don’t care that Teddy is poopy?” Lina asked Ellie.

“I’m not poopy!” Teddy snapped. “I said it’s just toots.” 

“It’s okay, Teddy.” Ellie smiled at him reassuringly. “Sometimes I make stinky britches too.” 

Teddy’s cheeks blossomed into a vibrant shade of red, but he smiled hesitantly. 

“I suppose you can play for a few more minutes if it’s okay with Ellie’s daddy,” Lina said. “Matt?” 

Matt glanced at his watch. “Ballet doesn’t start until 6:00, so we can hang out a little longer if you two are having fun.” 

Ellie nodded her head vigorously.

“Alright,” Lina said. “Run along, then. Oh, and Teddy?” 

He stopped and turned around. 

“No backtalk when I have to change those smelly buns of yours, alright?”

“Okay!” he shouted over his shoulder as the two ran off toward the sandbox.

“Thanks for being flexible,” Lina said to Matt. “It’s nice to see him making friends. Especially ones that don’t care when he smells like that.” 

Matt smiled. It was a nice smile, Lina decided. Warm. Genuine. “Ellie doesn’t usually just click with people like this, either. Not everyone likes playing in the sandbox as much as she does.”

“Which is crazy, because sand castles are frickin’ awesome. Though mine were always for dragons and their heaps of treasure. No knights or princesses allowed.” 

“Want to build one now?” Matt asked. 

“A sand castle? Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” Matt’s sea-green eyes lingered on hers. “I bet it’s like riding a bike.” 

“You might be able to talk me into it. But only if I get the shovel. You can have the dump truck, I suppose.” 

“Deal,” Matt said. “But it’ll be a knight’s castle, no princesses and definitely no dragons.”

“Hhhhhmm. Maybe one big castle with two separate wings? One for the elegant, shimmering dragons and another for the boring old knights and their rusty armor.”

Matt rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “A compromise, eh?”

Lina shrugged. “Stranger things have happened than knights and dragons getting along.” 

An angry shout erupted from the sandbox, drawing her attention. Teddy stuck out his lip and kicked the dump truck away with his foot. Ellie looked at him in surprise, then down at the castle, which had collapsed into a pile of sand and a solitary, leaning turret. 

Lina sighed. “Here we go. Tantrum incoming.” 

Ellie stood up and yanked on Teddy’s arm. He looked as if he was going to resist, then shrugged and stood up, arms crossed in a childish pout. Ellie whispered something in his ear and then charged headlong towards the swing set. She dropped onto her belly on a swing, soaring with her hands extended forward like Superman. Teddy’s eyes grew wide, and a grin spread across his face. He ran after her and flopped down onto the swing next to hers. His legs flew too high and he nearly flopped forward off the swing, faceplanting in the sand. Then he corrected his balance and stretched out flat as she had, bellowing with laughter. 

“Or maybe not,” Lina said. “Huh.” 

Typically, this sort of thing would send Teddy into a spiral of pouting and fussing. Sometimes even name-calling. Once, during an epic fit at her mother’s house over Moose Tracks ice cream, Lina had nearly called the whole thing off. Told him they should return to how things were before. When he’d wipe his own ass and bring home a paycheck every two weeks. When a bad day meant an evening at Tio’s with Jeff and Luke. She’d loathed those evenings at the time. He’d stumble home reeking of stale sweat and tequila, expecting sex because it ‘helped him clear his head.’ She’d tolerate a few minutes of awkward groping and half-hearted thrusting followed by a couple of tepid spurts. Only the ear-splitting snoring that followed truly evoked a response from her body. But then that would be that. She’d put on her headphones, pour a steaming mug of yerba mate and forget all about Ted and his pissy attitude. The next day, all would be forgotten. 

That’s not how things were with Teddy. When Teddy was angry, or sad, or his tummy hurt, it was her problem until it was resolved. And on that particular day at her mother’s, it meant he was hucking Hot Wheels at the living room wall, screaming for more ice cream, while she gulped a glass of wine in the kitchen and tried to collect her thoughts. 

Then, in the middle of his epic ice cream shit-fit, he’d kicked the couch leg. At least, that’s what she pieced together later. He kicked it hard enough she heard the crack from the kitchen. He started crying. Wailing, really. A gasping, red-in-the-face howl that set off car alarms and made dogs bark three blocks away. When she rushed into the room, he’d looked up at her, eyes full of tears. All anger vanished. He needed her. Needed her comfort. Her support. Her love. All her doubts and second-guessing melted away. She wrapped him in her arms, and all was forgotten. Or nearly forgotten: she’d still spanked his bottom bright red when they returned home, but he’d known he deserved it and kept his complaints to a couple of yelps during the paddling and a lingering sniffle afterward. 

“I’m not sure what Ellie just did, but it seems like it worked,” Lina said. “Maybe she could teach me a thing or two about managing my boy’s moods.”

“You know, her ballet lessons have been a huge help,” Matt said. “It’s a mommy-and-me class with a bunch of other littles. Miss Kara stresses empathy and understanding. Turns out a lot of littles give up on manners along with their potty training. I’ve seen a big change in her behavior since we started going.” 

“Sounds fantastic.” Lina stared straight ahead and tried to keep her voice casual. “Does Ellie’s mommy enjoy the class too?” 

“No mommy,” Matt replied, his tone even. “It’s just me and the punkin’ these days.” 

Lina felt a surge of excitement at that answer, followed by an equally strong pang of guilt. Better than anyone, she knew how lonely this life could be. 

“Well. I’m sure you look stunning in a floofy tutu,” she said. 

“I do, in fact.” 

Lina turned toward him. “No way.” 

He was either telling the truth, or he had a killer poker face. Lina found herself hoping it was the former. The image of this handsome, confident man dancing around in a pink, glittery tutu made her smile. 

“What? You don’t think I can pull it off?” he asked.  

“Oh, I’m sure you could, I just don’t think you do. I might need to ask Ellie to confirm.”

“Go for it.” 

“I will,” she said. “You’re gonna be so embarrassed when she tells me what a big, fat liar her daddy is.” 

“Or…” Matt said.

“Or?”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. See for yourself.” 

“Nice try, but last I checked, those are Dockers you’re wearing, and I don’t think you’ve got a tutu hidden underneath them either.” 

He shook his head. “No hidden tutu. Join us at ballet tonight. Miss Kara takes walk-ins. First class is always free.”

Did he just ask her out? On a date? Couldn’t be. They’d just met. And most of their conversation had centered around dirty diapers and sand castles. “Thanks for the invite, but we need to get home and make dinner. Teddy skipped his nap today, so it’ll be an early bedtime.” 

“Ah,” Matt said. 

Was that disappointment in his voice? He didn’t employ any of the polite little lies you tell someone to let them off the hook easily. He just let the awkwardness hang in the air. 

Lina turned her attention back to Ellie and Teddy. Ellie had abandoned her Superman routine and was straddling one of the swings, rocking back and forth and shouting ‘giddyup!’ at the top of her lungs. One hand clutched the chain, the other whipped through the air. Teddy watched for a second, then started to climb onto the swing with her. 

“Wait!” Lina shouted. 

Too late. Teddy awkwardly lowered himself onto the swing with his new buddy, no doubt spreading and squishing the mess in his pants into something truly unholy. 

“And there’s your blowout for the week,” Matt said. 

Lina sighed. “No kidding. Looks like we’ll need to build in tubby time, too.” 

If Ellie minded the smell, or the extremely cramped quarters, it didn’t show. She threw her head back and laughed as they started to swing back and forth together. Teddy grinned and shouted ‘giddyup!’ whenever she did. 

“Sometimes I’m envious,” Matt said. “The way she can just be in the moment. Not a care in the world. Not worrying about emails or bills or whether she looks silly.” 

“I know what you mean,” Lina said. “Then again, I’m not sure I could give up espresso. Or true crime podcasts. Or Chilean Merlots.” 

“Or the toilet, for that matter,” Matt added with a chuckle. 

“There’s that,” Lina said, laughing along with him. 

Still, the joy on Teddy’s face made her wonder. He looked content. More than content, really—joyful. Rapturous, even. Almost like he was having a…

Lina leaned forward for a closer look. “Uh, Matt.” 

“What’s the matter?” Matt asked. He looked where Lina was pointing. “Oh. Huh.”  

The swing hung in place, Ellie and Teddy’s equestrian escapades forgotten. The two stared into each other’s eyes, all their attention on grinding their two diaper bulges against one another. 

“I am so sorry,” Lina said. “I let Teddy out of his chastity cage today so he could air out a bit. Honestly, it’s been so long since he’s been unlocked—or even asked about being unlocked—I thought maybe he’d just…I dunno, forgotten about all of that stuff?” 

“It’s alright. I’m sure Ellie instigated it. I’ve walked in on her having lots of vigorous one-on-one time with her dolphin stuffy lately.” 

Lina started to stand up. “We should break this up before—” 

“Before what?” Matt asked.

She looked away. “Before they, you know…” 

Matt shrugged. “Looks like they are both having a good time, doesn’t it?” 

Lina considered that for a moment. She settled back onto the bench. “I suppose so. After so many bubble baths and diaper changes, I guess I kind of forget about the grownup inside him, you know? I don’t see that side much anymore. I miss it sometimes, I think.” 

“I know what you mean.”  

The two had picked up the pace of their diaper humping. 

“I don’t imagine we’ll have to wait too long,” Lina said. “Teddy was always more of a sprinter than a marathon kinda guy.” 

Matt laughed. 

Lina giggled. “Sorry. You probably didn’t need to hear that.” 

“It’s okay. But looking at Ellie’s face, I’m going to have to disagree. I bet she’ll beat him there by a mile.” 

“No frickin’ way.” 

Matt raised an eyebrow. 

Lina felt that familiar flush of embarrassment. Were they actually betting on whether her boy would spurt in his diaper first? She decided to ignore that anxious, uptight voice in her head. If Teddy could live his life in the moment, following his instincts, why couldn’t she? At least once in a while. “Okay, you’re on. If I’m right, you have to change a positively toxic diaper.” 

“You think he’ll let me change him?”

“You think I’ll give the little stinker a choice?”

“Fair point.” 

“And if Ellie beats my boy there…” Lina struggled to think of a fair wager. 

“You’ll buy me a cup of coffee after ballet.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“If my girl gets there first, you two join us for ballet class, and then we get coffee afterward.”

Lina’s heart skipped a beat. “We have to get home. Teddy needs his dinner and his tub.” 

“Then come to my place instead.” 

“Your place?”

“I have all of the essentials: chicken nuggets, bubble bath, and an unopened bag of Ethiopian beans that’ll knock your socks off.”

Lina tried not to let the excitement show on her face. “I don’t know. It’ll be late. Besides, I thought I was supposed to pay for the coffee?” 

“The kiddos can play after their bath. Ellie has blocks and trains and a dollhouse and all kinds of fun stuff. We can sip some coffee on the balcony. Or Merlot, if that’s how the spirit moves.” 

Ellie looked at the two on the swing, lost in their own, sensual little world. They both looked happy. Present in the moment. Connected. Maybe she could have something like that too. Even if just for an evening. 

She turned back toward Matt. “You know, I think I’d like that.”

If you enjoyed this short tale, you'll love my full-length stories - check 'em out on Smashwords!

First day in diapers ever! Thanks to @lolitafromictlan to change me and play with me!

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"You seriously think that's the only reason I said yes, dude? Hah, in your dreams!"

Veronica's gale of laughter echoed through the pine woods, accompanied a moment later by the lower rumble of David's chuckle. "Well, I didn't say it was the only reason," he corrected, taking another bite of his sandwich and gazing affectionately across the picnic blanket at his girlfriend. "But you have to admit it, right? You were more than a little into it. Anyone could see that…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Veronica returned, stuffing the last of her own sandwich into her mouth and wiping her sticky fingers on the nearby paper towel. She waggled her bare shoulders in the warm spring sun, then glanced down and tugged her spaghetti strap top a trifle lower. It would be swimsuit season soon, after all – and she wanted her boobs to be as tanned as possible.

"What, so you admit it, huh? You admit you liked being plastered with pies by a big strong man?" David pressed, and now he was scooching closer, his eyes dancing with quiet mirth. "Go on, babe – you can say it! 'Oh, yeah! Please, please smear me good-!"

"Okay, okay!" she cut in with a laugh, leaning in and silencing him with a quick kiss. "Maybe I do, okay? But you know what I like better than that?" She slipped closer, her hands slipping coyly down toward his jean-clad groin. "Making out in the sun after the end of a long semester. You know, doing my part to keep you from getting ideas about any other girls over the summer…"

His arms drew tight around her. His eyes smiled, then slipped closed as her rosy lips approached once more. And then she was kissing him: eagerly. Playfully. Pressing close one moment, then withdrawing a moment later. Her tongue slipping forward… probing hesitantly between his parted lips…

"Mmm, you little tease," he murmured, and amid her muffled laughter they sank backward onto the blanket. It was spring, after all. They were young, and hormones were raging. Here in this secluded corner of the state park no one would be around to watch these two college kids fooling around. And really… so what if anyone did, anyway?

The seconds slipped heedlessly into minutes amid the birdsong and the rustle of leaves and the quiet, muffled moans of the two lovers. His hands groped questioningly for her full breasts. She sighed rapturously… guided his hand deep beneath her top… let out a little gasp of pleasure as his finger and thumb pinched affectionately on one tender nipple. "David, please," she murmured, even as his legs twined around hers and bore her down onto the cotton blanket beneath. "Oh, please, you- Fuck! You're driving me crazy…"

"That's the point," he muttered back into her parted lips – and renewed his tender assault.

"Ooh- oh, but- but no, really-" At the word, he drew back, raising himself on his bare, gym-toned arms to gaze questioningly down at her. "No? Sorry, everything okay, babe?" She blinked up for a moment, then burst into a quiet, sheepish giggle. "Sorry, I- it's so stupid! I just… it's so lame! I didn't pee before we left. And, um, I really gotta go." She sighed and struggled up as he half-rolled away. "Sorry, shitty timing! I- it shouldn't take long-"

"Just go behind a tree or bush or something," he replied, with a brisk glance at the edge of the clearing. His erection was plain beneath his jeans, and as Veronica struggled to her knees she had a perfect view – a visible reminder of his need for her. "No one's out here," he continued. "And I'll let you know if someone does come…"

"Thanks, bae!" As she trotted hastily off toward the nearest cluster of trees, David gazed after her, watching in visible satisfaction as her shapely, short-clad ass waggled its way onward. He reached for the still-uneaten dessert within their picnic basket, his fingers mechanically beginning to unwrap the cupcake as he stared. A meditative expression settled on his face then… a gleam of some new idea dawning in his eye…

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My little one starts to wake from his nap under the shade of our tent, warm and flushed from sleep, with his paci still gently bobbing between his lips. He stretches, bunny clutched tightly to his chest, and makes the softest whimpery noise — like he’s not quite ready to give up his dream but knows Mommy’s here.

I reach down, brushing a few grains of sand from his cheek. “There you are, sleepyhead,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He opens those big, sleepy eyes and blinks up at me like a confused little duckling — soft, dazed, and so precious.

As I lift him into my lap, I feel it right away. That heavy, soggy squish between his thighs — warm and unmistakable. “Mmm… baby,” I hum teasingly, running a hand over the swollen front of his diaper. “Looks like someone had a big nap-time accident, huh?”

He lets out a shy little whimper and hides his face in my chest.

I lay him back on the towel with a kiss to his temple, grabbing the wipes and a fresh swim diaper. As I tear the sides on the old one, I can't help but giggle. “Oh sweetie, you really filled this one up, didn’t you? Poor squishy bum.” His cheeks are rosy now, squirming just a little, but I know he secretly loves this part — being totally bare, soft and exposed, right where Mommy can take care of every little need.

But there's another problem. Sand. It’s everywhere — sticking to his thighs, between his butt cheeks, clinging to every spot on his body.

“Alright, baby,” I say gently, helping him to his feet, his bare bottom catching the sun. “Let’s get that sandy bum rinsed off.”

He toddles beside me toward the outdoor shower, one hand clutching my fingers, the other still gripping his bunny. His steps are slow, and his head stays ducked down as we pass a few other beachgoers. His face is bright pink by the time we get there — bashful little thing, trying to hide behind me even though his bare cheeks are on full display.

“Aww, are you blushing, sweetheart?” I tease, brushing his hair from his eyes. “It’s okay. Everyone knows you’re just Mommy’s baby.”

I guide him under the warm water, holding him steady as the gentle spray hits his skin. He squeaks a little at the first touch, wiggling in place while I crouch down behind him. My hands move carefully — rinsing the sand from his back, his legs, and then finally down to his bottom. I take my time with that part, using slow circles to make sure every bit of grit is gone.

“Can’t leave any sand in those cute little cheeks,” I murmur, watching his blush deepen. “Gotta keep my baby all clean and comfy.”

By the time we head back to the tent, he’s clean, damp, and even more bashful than before — but there's a smile peeking out around his paci.

Back at the towel, I lay him down again, his bare skin warm from the sun and smelling faintly of saltwater. I powder him slowly, thoroughly — soft clouds puffing in the breeze as I work it into every fold and crease. The fresh swim diaper has little sea turtles on it, soft and puffy, and I stand him up to have him step into the swim diaper. “There,” I coo, smoothing it over. “Snug, crinkly, and ready for round two.”

Instead of a swim shirt, I decide to leave him bare-chested — his skin is just too soft and kissable to hide. His belly’s still a little round from lunch, and the way he giggles when I blow a raspberry on it? Irresistible. I slide his tiny swim trunks up his legs, tugging them over that thick diaper. They don’t quite hide it — the waistband of the diaper pokes out over the top, white and crinkly under the bright blue trunks.

“Too cute for words,” I say softly, adjusting the trunks just a little so the diaper still peeks out. “Let everyone see how well Mommy takes care of you.”

Then comes the sunscreen — cool and creamy against his warm skin. I rub it gently over his arms, his chest, his soft round tummy, down his legs and even the tops of his feet. He wiggles and giggles through it, squealing when I get to his ribs. “Almost done, silly goose,” I tease, planting a kiss on his nose.

That’s when Daddy walks over, towel slung over his shoulder and a smile already on his face. “Hey, there’s my sunshine boy,” he says, crouching next to us. “You all ready to go splash with Daddy?”

Our little one lights up immediately, wriggling up into his arms. Daddy scoops him up, patting that thickly diapered bum with one big hand. “Looks like Mommy got you all set. You're such a lucky boy,” he says, kissing his cheek and leaning down to give me a kiss.

They’re halfway to the water when it happens.

A flash of movement in the surf — slow, graceful — and our baby gasps. “Tuh… tuh… turtle!” he squeals, eyes wide, pointing frantically.

Daddy stops in his tracks, cradling him close. “You see the turtle, buddy?” he whispers, turning so they can both get a better look. The sea turtle bobs gently in the shallows, paddling calmly while the waves roll in around it.

Our little one is absolutely enchanted — slack-jawed with wonder, clutching Daddy’s neck while his legs kick excitedly in the air.

I watch them from the tent, hand resting over my heart, completely full. My sweet, squishy, sun-kissed baby boy — safe in his Daddy’s arms, dressed in nothing but his swim trunks and a diaper, thrilled by the simplest magic of the ocean.

A Fair Trade

“I want to go to the bookstore,” Brynn said. Well, she didn’t say it as much as she whined it–she had a tendency to enunciate all of her requests as if she was a spoiled toddler. But, seeing as how this usually worked in her getting her way, it made sense why this trait stuck after toddlerhood.

“Why?” sighed Lia. “You’re going to wander around there for two hours, read the back of every book you pick up, and then leave without buying anything.” Lia wasn’t this blunt with most of her friends, but she had learned that this was really the only way to deal with Brynn. And even then, it didn’t always work.

“I know,” Brynn whined. “But Fi wants to go to the shore next weekend, so I really should have something to read on the beach. Come on. I’ll be quick.”

A louder-than-expected laugh burst from Lia’s mouth like a bark, causing her to blush a little. “S-sorry, but… We both know that’s not going to happen.”

“C’mon,” Brynn said. “What else did you have to do today?”

Lia glanced further down the street–the plant store, the record shop, and a used clothing store were all within view, and they all sounded better than watching Brynn shrug at thousands of books she knew nothing about. Still, she was a good friend. And she supposed, albeit begrudgingly, that it was more important she stick around for Brynn during this trying time.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Lia finally said. “Let’s look at some books.”

For the first few minutes in the store, Lia tried to hover in Brynn’s vicinity, doing her best to sound engaged when her friend read from the back cover of a book aloud to get Lia’ s opinion on it.

“...and that’s when everything goes wrong. Suddenly, Cynthia finds that her perfect life might not be so perfect after all–and her boyfriend may not be the man she thought he was,” Brynn read. “Does that sound good?”

“That sounds like every single book and movie ever made,” Lia sighed. 

“Really?” Brynn asked. “I think it sounds kind of good. This one’s a maybe.”

 “Alright,” Lia shrugged, holding back any comments she was tempted to make about Brynn being the most basic woman in the world.

From the corner of her eye, Lia spots a sign denoting the “Art & Design” section. The art bug had been biting again lately, and she was feeling eager to pick up a paint brush again for the first time in a while. Maybe, she thought, flipping through some of the art books might stir up some inspiration.

“Hey,” she said to Brynn, who was picking another book from the shelf to glance over. “I’m going to go check out some of the books over there, alright?”

“Sure,” Brynn said. “I’ll narrow it down to, like, four or five books and you can tell me which one I should buy.”

“Uh, sure. Can’t wait.” Lia briskly walked away from Brynn and into the art section, letting out a little sigh of relief when she could no longer smell her friend’s vaguely peachy body spray. She loved Brynn dearly, but Brynn could also be…a lot.

It was a book about Japanese woodblock prints that caught her eye initially, but while the art featured in the book was undeniably gorgeous, it couldn’t have been further in tone from the swirling psychedelic style that Lia preferred when making her own art. Next, she grabbed the book on Jean-Michel Basquiat. Again, her own painting style had little semblance to Basquiat’s (though, whose did?), but she often found his use of color and small details worked as a nice springboard for ideas she’d try to implement in her own work.

“Did you happen to see the Basquiat exhibit in town a few months ago?” a voice somewhere off to her side asked. Lia turned to see a woman standing near her, pulling books from the other side of the same shelf that she was currently looking at. 

“I, uh, didn’t know there was one,” Lia said.

“It wasn’t very big,” the woman shrugged, pushing her blonde hair back behind her ears. She had a brownish-red sundress on that seemed to hug her slender body in all the right ways. God, she was tall. The woman continued: “They just had a handful of pieces on display at the art museum downtown. I’ve seen them before, but it was nice that I didn’t have to travel as far to see them this time.”

“I wish I knew,” Lia sighed. “I suppose it’s over now?”

“‘Fraid so,” the woman shrugged. “But you never know, they might do something like that again.”

“One can hope,” Lia said, craning her neck a little to see if Brynn was still scanning through books. It looked like she was.

“Are you just a fan of the arts?” the woman asked. “Or are you an artist yourself?”

“Both,” Lia smiled. This stranger was fucking beautiful. The kind that she just wasn’t used to seeing in person. The woman looked like a model. Or an actress. And she definitely wasn’t used to people who looked like this talking to her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she carefully considered how she should act. Was it better to seem cool, collected, and unphased by this goddess in her midst? Or did people who looked like this enjoy it more when they were more obviously worshiped?

Lia opted to start with cool and collected–thinking this was the better choice if they were talking about art.

“Is that so?” the woman asked. “What sorts of mediums do you work in?”

“Painting,” Lia said, feeling her cheeks warm a little. “Acrylics, mostly. I’ve always been kind of abstract, but I’m thinking that I kind of want to try my hand at something more–I dunno–impressionist?” She surprised herself at how she offered this much to the stranger. She never liked talking about her art. The last thing she wanted was to sound full of herself–she didn’t think she was talented enough for that.

“I wish that I had that sort of talent,” the woman smiled, showing her perfect teeth. “I think that’s why I enjoy art as much as I do. I can’t make it, so I enjoy using the work of others as gateways into worlds that I couldn’t imagine myself.”

“I like that too,” Lia blushed.

“I’m Agnes, by the way,” the woman said, extending her hand towards Lia. Lia shook it automatically, noting the softness of her skin.

“Lia,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You don’t happen to have any pictures of your art, do you?” Agnes asked.

Lia briefly bit her bottom lip. “Eh, well, I do have an Instagram where I share my work with some friends but…”

“I’d love to see them, if you’d be willing to share.”

Were this anyone else, at any other time, she’d probably try to find excuses as to why she couldn’t share her art. She’d probably fumble at her phone for a few moments before commenting on how her damn phone doesn’t have a good enough connection for her to access her account. But for Agnes–with her big eyes, perfect smile, and voluptuous tits that were gift wrapped in her tight dress–she thought she could probably be convinced to do just about anything. 

“S-sure,” she said. “Let me just, uh, pull it up here.” Lia tapped at her phone and brought up the app, quickly scanning through her last few posts to make sure there was nothing incredibly embarrassing. She quickly deleted one of the photos–a piece she hadn’t ever been particularly happy with. The rest seemed good enough for now. Had she advance knowledge of this interaction, she probably would’ve culled her feed further. “Here you go.”

“Did you go to art school?” Agnes asked as she slowly scrolled through the photos. 

“N-no. Self taught, actually.” 

“That makes sense.”

“Oh, uhm…” Lia wasn’t sure if she should be offended by that or not.

“I mean that in a good way,” Agnes laughed, as if realizing how confusing that might have been. “Your style doesn’t seem bound by rules. There’s something very liberating about it. There’s something almost…” But Agnes doesn’t finish that thought, instead laughing a little to herself as she smiles. “I really like it.”

“Thank you,” Lia said. If she didn’t think it’d make her sound the opposite of cool and collected, she’d gush about how that was one of the nicest things that anyone has ever said about her work.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I follow your art, would you?” she asked.

“Not at all.”

“And…” Agnes tapped her chin for a moment as she passed the phone back to Lia. “Well, I know we just met and this all seems rather sudden and all–but I’m already thinking about how I’d like to own a piece of your art.”

“Really? I mean, uhm, I suppose any of my pieces are for sale if you see any that you really like.”

“What if I commissioned a piece?” she asked. “A new piece. Something that was only ever mine?”

Lia nervously swallowed. It was sometimes hard enough to sit down and make art that she was happy with herself–hence the little break she had taken from art in recent weeks. But she couldn’t even imagine the added pressure of creating art for someone else. Someone who was paying her. Someone who looked like Agnes.

But, again, Agnes was the kind of person that Lia didn’t think she could say no to. 

“Sure. Of course. Did you have anything in mind, or…”

“Oh, if I had ideas I’d be painting them myself,” Agnes smirked. “But if you’re not doing anything else right now, maybe you’d let me buy you a cup of coffee and we could chat about it a little?”

These things never, ever, happen to me, Lia thought. But, again, she glanced in the direction of Brynn, who was amassing a small stack of books in her arms as she continued to make her way through the shelves. 

“That sounds really nice,” she said to Agnes. “But I’m here with my friend, and…”

“Ah, of course,” Agness nodded. “I’ll tell you what–I’m going to friend you on Insta. And when I do, I want you to reach out to me there and tell me what your availability is like so we can meet again, okay? I’m very serious about wanting to commission some art from you.”

Lia’s face felt red and hot, and she had no doubt it was obvious to Agnes. Still, she managed to keep her tone good and steady as she replied: “That sounds great. It was really nice meeting you, Agnes.”

“Likewise,” Agnes said.

Lia briskly walked back towards Brynn, feeling like she was in a little bit of a daze. Had that just happened? Had one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen approached her at random and asked for some of her art? 

“Oh cool,” Brynn said, “you found a book for yourself?”

Lia realized she was still tightly clutching the Basquiat art book in her hands. She remembered setting it down when she was showing Agnes her phone, but she had no recollection of picking it up again. Had she been that distracted by run-in with Agnes?

“Oh, uh, yeah. How about you? Find anything good?”

“Ugh,” Brynn groaned. “So many books. You’re going to have to help me whittle these choices down, okay?”

“Sure,” Lia said, though she already knew she’d be far too distracted to be of any help.

***

Agnes Van Lars followed her account about two hours later. Lia noticed right away–the notification came up on her phone while she was cutting into her lunch as Brynn sat across from her. She was sure her cheeks had turned bright pink again, and she quickly stowed her phone in her purse in an effort to not distract herself anymore than she already had been.

It’d be a few hours later, when she was in her apartment’s bedroom again, that she opened the app and clicked on Agnes Van Lars’ profile.

“Oh shit.”

As it turned out, Agnes was a model–though not the sort that Lia was imagining. Lia was picturing swimsuits and fur coats. Instead, Agness was wearing skin-tight leather ensembles while holding paddles and riding crops. Her bare feet rested on a man’s very happy face in one photo, and in another she was sliding a rubber glove over her hand while a different nude man was bent over a table. 

Kink–BDSM in particular–were always a curiosity to Lia, though she felt like it was a space she was grossly uneducated on. She liked the photos on Agnes’ feed–the juxtaposition of power with good looking (and well hung) men making themselves vulnerable to her power and control. 

None of the photos were too explicit–there was an artsy tastefulness about them, she thought. They often hinted at darker scenes and situations, but without actually showing them. Agnes had been wrong when she said she wasn’t an artist–this was art. She could look at any of these photos and find herself getting sucked into a world of shameful depravity. She could hear the crack of a whip as it lashed against a bare bottom. She could smell the sweat. She could almost taste salty skin on her tongue.

The minutes melted away as she continued to scroll down Agnes’ feed. Every picture was an entirely new trip for her. Then, hundreds of posts into the past, she saw an image that made her audibly gasp. 

Whereas most of the photos–with a few exceptions–had featured Agnes exercising power over men, this one featured a young woman on her hands and knees and looking into the camera as Agnes stood tall in the background with her hands on her hips. The young woman’s makeup was running down her face. Her cheeks were bright pink and her hair was a mess. Sticking out of her mouth was a pacifier–like the things a parent would stick in the mouth of an infant. And the girl didn’t seem to be wearing much, though she did seem to be wearing some sort of undergarment that was far too thick and big to be panties.

A diaper, she thought. That girl is wearing a diaper and sucking on a pacifier.

The caption for the photo read as follows: “Poor little StephyLoo. After a particularly long session with Mommy, she couldn’t help but fill her diapers. See that sag between her legs? It’s even heavier than it looks.”

“What the fuck,” Lia said aloud. No, she wasn’t disgusted. She was almost angry. Angry that she had no idea that this was a thing that people–adults–did with each other. Why did nobody tell me about this?

But maybe she had known. Maybe it was one of those weird things that felt like a punchline to a joke whenever someone talked about it. “Yeah, well, at least you’re not one of those freaks who dresses up like a baby.”

She stared at the photo longer, taking it in and trying to imagine what that scene must’ve been like in person. What had happened to make this girl look like this? That look of pathetic vulnerability, coupled with shameful contentment. And when Agnes said that ‘StephyLoo’ had filled her diaper…what did she mean by that? Had the girl been made to piss herself? Had she…done even more than that in her diaper? That’s what a diaper–an adult diaper at that–was made for, wasn’t it?

Lia let out a little moan, not realizing that her own hand had slid between her thighs as she stared at the photo. She rubbed at her pussy through her pants, not sure how committed she was to completely getting off right now. But then she thought about herself and Agnes, back at the bookstore, and how she might’ve reacted if that conversation had gone a little differently.

“I want to put you in a diaper,” Agnes might’ve said. “I think you’d look just perfect in one.”

“R-really?” Lia would respond. “You think I’d be a good baby?”

“Oh yes,” Agnes would smile. “I think you’d be the best baby.”

“Okay, fuck it,” Lia said aloud, casting her phone aside as she pulled down her pants and panties. She was going to cum right now, and she was going to do it while imagining pissing into a diaper at Agnes’s command.

With her eyes closed, she was back at the bookstore with Agnes again. Somewhere on the other side of the store, Brynn was there too. This would be part of the fantasy, Lia thought–the idea that whatever happened, she could potentially be exposed to Brynn. She’d have to tread lightly.

Now, instead of just talking about wearing diapers in the future, Lia was actually wearing one. Fantastical-Agnes would know this too. 

“How is your diaper holding up?” she’d ask Lia.

“Shh,” Lia would nervously say. “Not so loud…I can’t let my friend know about these.”

Lia wasn’t sure what it was like to wear a diaper. She imagined the thick padding felt bulky between her thighs, and so she pulled her comforter from under her and tucked a wad of it between her legs until it was so thick that she couldn’t close them. Maybe it’s something like this?

Back in her fantasy, Agnes was grinning while looking down at her–it was very easy for her to do that when she was so much taller than Lia. 

“I need to check your diaper,” she said to Lia.

“B-but…here?” Lia asked.

The very thought of this caused her to bite her bottom lip and slip her fingers into her wet pussy. Adults–most of them, at least–weren’t supposed to be wearing diapers. They weren’t supposed to be getting them checked by other people–especially not while in public.

“You don’t want to get a rash, do you? Come here. Let me see.”

Lia wasn’t even sure what a diaper check looked like for an actual infant, let alone an adult. She can only make it up as she goes. She imagines Agnes’ hand sliding between Lia’s thighs, feeling the bulky padding of the diaper through her pants. A wet diaper, she thought, would feel different than a dry one. StephyLoo’s diaper was ‘filled,’ and hung from her hips like a sack. Maybe it was something like that. Maybe Agnes was groping Lia’s crotch in the middle of the book store in an effort to see how heavy it was.

“Young lady,” Agnes would say in a stern, motherly, tone. “Why didn’t you tell me that your diaper was this dirty?”

“I…I…” Lia stammered. Her cheeks in her fantasy were as bright pink as they were in real life.

“We’re going to have to do something about this right now,” Agness would say. “Come on. We’re going to find a public restroom, and I’m going to have to change you there.”

“But,” Lia would plead, “what if there are other people in there? They’ll see!”

“There’s nothing I can do about that now,” Agnes shrugged, grabbing Lia’s wrist. “I’m changing your diaper regardless.”

Fuck, that was good stuff. One hand pushed the wadded ball of her comforter tighter against her pussy, while she continued to finger herself with the other. 

But this scene was missing something. She considered it for a moment or two, trying to imagine what would make this even hotter. She thought of the photo of StephyLoo (whoever that was) again, wondering if there were any other details she needed to import into her fantasy. The pacifier? Maybe. It was certainly a step in the right direction. 

It suddenly dawned on her. It wasn’t what was in the photo–it was the photo itself. Someone else had to take that picture. Whatever humiliating events had transpired in that room with Agnes Van Lars, someone else had been there to witness it and capture it with a camera. 

That was what she needed in her fantasy–to be witnessed in such a state.

“I–I don’t need to be changed right now,” Lia would protest. She knew she was wrong about this, but she wanted to see Agnes react to this defiance.

“Silly girl, you don’t know anything,” Agnes would sigh. With a firm tug on either side of the waistband of Lia’s pants, Agness would pull them down to her knees–right there in the middle of the bookstore. Her diaper was completely on display. “Look at yourself, Lia. Your diaper is completely soaked! And you’re going to try and tell me that you don’t need to be changed right now?”

The other patrons of the bookstore were tittering and snickering. Whispering to each other. People were pointing. Lia’s heart pounded faster, and her fingers went into overdrive as they caressed her wet skin.

And then Brynn would approach. Brynn, of all people–who was practically a giant whiny toddler herself–she’d be the one to see Lia in a dirty diaper. “Oh my god!” she’d shout. “LIa…did you pee yourself like a baby?”

“Yes, she did,” Agnes would say. “But…”

Lia would have to wait until another time to hear what Agnes would say, as it was at that moment that she came. It was an epic climax–the strongest she had had in recent memory. She felt herself squirting into the comforter–no doubt leaving an embarrassingly large wet spot that she hoped would dry sooner than later.

It would take a few minutes for her to recover. And when she finally sat up, the very first thing she did was send a message to Agnes Van Lars.

***

When Lia went to a bar, it was always a very particular kind of bar. She wasn’t really sure how to describe them. ‘Nice?’ They were either very clean, or made to look artificially dive-y while still actually being quite clean. The kind of place with a long list of craft beers on tap and a bearded guy behind the bar wearing a t-shirt with either David Bowie or Debbie Harry’s face on it.

This was different. This wasn’t a ‘nice’ bar.

Everything here felt kind of aggressive. The electronic music. The sneering face of the pale-looking bartender. The complete lack of a cocktail menu to offer easy choices. Even the lighting seemed both too dark and too harsh. It wasn’t her kind of place, which was what made it kind of exciting.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” Agnes said as they both took a seat in one of the booths. “I know it's a little loud here, but I think these are some of the best bartenders in the city.”

Lia looked over to the bar again, where two or three ghostly barkeeps were in the process of either shaking or stirring drinks for other patrons. She could sit and watch this place all day, trying to imagine the types of conversations people had here.

“No problem at all,” she said.

“Have you been here before?”

Lia laughed. “N-no. Never.”

“Where do you like to go?” Agnes asked.

“Uh… Boot & Barrel? Main Street Brewing?”

Agnes shrugged. “Never heard of them.”

Once more, Lia took some delight in how different their worlds were. If it wasn’t for their chance run-in at the bookstore, Lia wondered if there would’ve ever been any overlap in their lives. It was a strong argument for fate. 

“So, uhm, you were interested in commissioning some art?” Lia asked.

“Indeed,” Agnes nodded. “You know, after we parted ways the other day, I went through your entire profile to look at all of your work.”

Lia blushed. Once or twice, she had considered further pruning her feed and culling the weaker pieces, but ultimately decided that was a slippery slope to go down. By the time she was done, she might’ve only been left with one or two photos on her feed. “What did you think?”

“I’m even more excited to work with you than I was before,” Agnes said. “There’s this quality about your work that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I feel like it’s always there. This sort of…energy. It’s very unique. Very special.”

“Wow,” Lia said. “Thank you so much.” Nobody has ever spoken about her art like this, so far as she knew.

“Well deserved, I assure you,” Agnes said. 

“I, uhm, took a look at your profile too,” Lia said. She wasn’t sure if she was actually going to admit this or not, but she needed to change the subject from herself, and this was the first thing she could think of.

“Is that so?” Agnes asked, smiling. “And what did you think of that?”

“It was a little surprising,” Lia said sheepishly.

“How so?”

“It’s just…you know…” She paused and thought about how she actually wanted to respond to that. “It was different. I don’t know much about, you know, that kind of stuff. So it was very eye-opening.”

“You didn’t find it distasteful, I hope.”

“Not at all,” Lia said. “Quite the opposite, really. I thought it was all pretty fascinating.”

Agnes smiled. “I’m delighted to hear that, Lira. Really. I was nervous that you’d see my content and judge me pretty harshly.”

“No,” Lia said. “I liked it.”

They ordered some drinks and the injection of alcohol helped to steer more natural conversation. While neither seemed to have much in common with the other, on the surface, they quickly found that they had more subtle similarities. Just like Lia, Agnes confessed to having insecurities about her content. And, just like Agnes, Lia thought the act of creating was often more important than the finished product. They were getting along much better than Lia anticipated.

“Now then,” Agnes said. “I want you to make me some art. What do we have to do to make that happen?”

“This is a good start,” Lia smiled. “Maybe just tell me more about what you want and when you want it?”

“What about compensation?” Agnes asked.

“Oh, uhm… I mean, we don’t really have to make this, like, a transaction or anything.”

“Stop that,” Agnes smiled. “I’m going to compensate you for your time. I’d just need to know how much.”

The closest that Lia had ever come to assigning value to her art was when she had donated a piece to her mother’s nonprofit for a fundraiser–and even then, it wasn’t her who benefited from the sale. She didn’t make art for the money. She had a job that covered her expenses. The art was just about passion. 

But she had an idea.

“So,” Lia said, taking one more sip of her cocktail for good measure, “I just wouldn’t feel right accepting money for my art. But…maybe we could, uhm, barter?”

Agnes’ eyes widened as she laughed. “Interesting. What did you have in mind?”

“Well… I could paint something for you. And then, maybe, you could take some photos with me? Like…the kind on your profile?”

Agnes nodded approvingly. “I like this idea, Lia. What kind of photos were you thinking? Did you want to stomp on some pathetic man’s face? Did you want to peg someone? Maybe you’d like to give someone a spanking. I could arrange for any of that.”

“A-actually…I was thinking that you’d be doing something to me.”

“Naughty girl,” Agnes said, shaking her head and laughing. “It’s always the ones you least expect, huh? What do you think you’d like? Need to feel a paddle on your backside? Nipple clamps? I just got this amazing straightjacket and…”

“I saw this picture on your profile that I’ve been thinking a lot about,” Lia said. 

“Which?”

It was tempting to show it to Agnes, though she knew she probably didn’t have to. All she had to do was say ‘diapers.’ Of course, she couldn’t imagine saying that out loud in a place like this–even if she was sure that the loud music would make certain that nobody else would hear her.

Instead, she offered a name: “StephyLoo?”

“Oh,” Agnes said, looking genuinely surprised. “Really?”

Lia nodded. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think that sounds like a lot of fun. But I didn’t expect you to say that.”

Lia shrugged. “What can I say? It stirred something in me.”

“Actually, you know what?” Agnes laughed, rapping her knuckles on the table. “That actually does make a lot of sense, now that I think about it.”

“How so?”

“Do you remember how I said that there was something about your art that I liked, but couldn’t put my finger on why?”

“Yes,” Lia nodded again.

“See, I think that’s exactly what it is–it’s this sense of childlike whimsy.”

“Childlike?” Lia asked, momentarily dumbfounded. She’d never once considered her art to be childish in any way. She wondered if this was how people actually saw her art. Because if so, she’d probably share a lot less of it moving forward.

“Don’t take offense to it,” Agnes said. “I don’t mean that it looks like a child painted it. I mean that your approach–your color choices and even the movement of your brush strokes–gives your art a sense of uninhibited freedom. The same sort of freedom that I may attribute to, say, a child–as opposed to an adult who’s had all the whimsy drained from their body by the world.”

The longer Lia sat with Agnes’ words, the better she felt about it. She could see where Agnes might be coming from, and now she was feeling kind of silly for not seeing it sooner herself. She always felt like her art came from some part of herself that didn’t get expressed otherwise, and she now had words to describe that part.

“Thank you,” Lia finally said, her cheeks turning pink again.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Agnes said, leaning back a little in her chair as she sips from her martini glass. “What if I give you your, uhm, payment first? I’ll give you whatever experience you want, yes? And then, after, I’d want you to paint something for me. It can be anything you want, so long as it’s inspired by the time you and I spent together.”

Lia considered this for a moment. She liked the idea of it, though she always knew that the hardest paintings to finish were the ones she went into with any sort of purpose. It just felt easier to create when she could just follow whatever whim–however momentary–she was feeling. Then again, maybe this was the shake-up her process needed. 

If nothing else, it seemed like a good idea to at least try.

“Yes,” said Lia. “I like that idea.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Agnes laughed. “And with plenty of time to spare. Another round?”

Lia downed the remnants in her glass and nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

With the details of their arrangement settled, any remaining tension and uncertainty felt by Lia seemed to fade away. Despite her concerns that she and Agnes had little in common, she found herself having a good time with her new friend. They talked. They drank. Agnes even convinced Lia to dance with her–something that Lia never did in public.

And when it seemed like they were winding down and about to call it a night, Agnes gently tapped on Lia’s shoulder while smiling.

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering,” Agnes said. “You don’t have to go home right away, do you?”

“N-no,” Lia said. “But…where else would I go?” Only after the words had exited her mouth did she realize what Agnes was asking. “Oh…”

“I won’t be offended if you decline my offer. But I’m feeling pretty good right now, and I don’t think I’m ready to call it a night just yet. You could come over to my place. The drinks are cheaper. And…I have diapers.”

Just hearing the word made Lia feel a little smaller. She bit her bottom lip, thinking about StephyLoo’s pathetic face staring into the camera, and she nodded.

***

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Accepting my boyfriend is ABDL

I thought I’d write a little about how I have gone from my initial reaction to my boyfriend’s coming out as ABDL (adult baby, diaper lover), which was along these lines:

OK, you like a harmless, peculiar, thing. I find the thought of you indulging in it unappealing, and a bit of a turn off, but I am happy for you to indulge, as long as you are happy for me not to be involved. Never hide it from me, and never be ashamed.

To my current feelings, which are: 

I GET TO BE A LITTLE GIRL! I AM EXCITE! And hopefully that will go well and then I can be a caregiver to you as a little too! And then we can play TOGETHER as a pair of littles! And oh my gosh, it’d be great if I can go to his event soon with him.

How did this change happen? I’ve thought about it at length. The things that have really helped have been:

1. He explained at the start that it’s not entirely just sexual (in fact, I think he said it wasn’t really sexual at all - hah! I think that was a white lie, what I needed to hear at the time). He clearly explained to me how it’s about feeling safe, cosy, loved and being in a different frame of mind where the usual adult junk doesn’t matter. I know for some people it’s not sexual at all, and for others, it’s majorly sexy, but what he said made me comfortable at the time. He used the phrase ‘age play’ to describe his fetish, which I found easier to deal with than ‘diaper fetish’ or something. 

2. He made it clear I could ask ANY questions, WHENEVER I wanted, and made sure he answered them all sincerely, frankly, and as as clearly as he could. Some of them took a while to answer - like when I started to ask how it is sexy to him. This is because he hasn’t had to answer those questions before. If he was stuck on how to answer something, he told me so, and I patiently put it on the back-burner. I found his frankness, clarity of thought and ability to articulate some difficult stuff really attractive. He’s a good ‘un. 

3. He made it clear that I don’t have to do anything or get involved. It could entirely just be his thing, that he goes off to events to enjoy a few times a year, or in his alone time. This put me at ease - no pressure! That was great. 

4. When I started exploring the fetish, he expressed how super happy it made him (even if it was a bit surreal for him!). I checked out some sites, to see what sort of clothes he might wear, and when I felt brave enough, sent him a link to a romper that I thought he could get away with wearing as cute pajamas around the house, that wasn’t TOO babyish. He made it clear he was really touched that I was even curious. Positive reinforcement is a great motivator!

5. He explained to me that it isn’t related to some childhood trauma, and stressed that he had a brilliant childhood. He tackled that subject head on, and that put my mind at rest, and meant I wasn’t wondering about how to engage in such a delicate conversation. It’s not my business, of course, unless he chooses to make it as such, but I would hate to accidentally trigger some disturbing memories in chatting around ABDL stuff. I know this will vary a lot for other folk, and I have my own issues in that area, but it helped me to understand that it’s just how he is built. 

6. He made it clear it didn’t involve anyone else, aside from folk he plays with at events / meet ups, and the folk who change him. He doesn’t have what I’d now call a caregiver, and events don’t involve any sexy happenings with other people. 

7. When I expressed an interest in seeing sexy changing times, he hooked me right up with some videos. I’ve got a soft spot for porn where one partner is submissive and dominated in the most genteel way (massage videos?! Jeez, I can’t imagine just lying there in the buff, fully lit, in such an intense situation. I know, I’m such a weed :D ). This has replaced the slightly rougher stuff I was into when I was younger. After seeing a few bits on Tumblr, I realised that changing times might be considered gentle sub-dom. It was a bit less weird than I expected. In fact, the first video I chose to watch featured lockable mittens and I was over the moon to see such adorable fetish equipment. Now I’ve seen some that are downright hot. Lovely smut :)  

8. We talk about our fantasies. This isn’t always easy, and I think he still worries about me being grossed out by his interests, but the long and short of it is, my boyfriend wants me to wear some giant padded undies, cute clothes that I adore, and take me for a picnic. I may or may not find it super sexy, but that just sounds like a great afternoon! And I wouldn’t have to pee in the bushes in the park ;). I know that if I wanted to try something different, he’d be happy to hear me out and give it some serious thought. 

9. Finally, and most importantly, I think, is he has both a sense of scale and a sense of humour about his ABDL desires. For instance, when I told him I was curious and interested in trying out being a little, he asked if he had to watch Formula 1 with me in return, a sport I love and he thinks is rubbish. Newp ;). His ability to laugh at the situation keeps me at ease.

It’s not been an overnight thing, it’s taken a couple of months for me to reach this point. I can honestly say I 100% *support* him in his interests, and some of them now sound super appealing and fun to me, and I hope that I will enjoy partaking too. I know that I might not - all sorts of situations are appealing in the mind and then you get into them and think.. oh shit, no. Not for me. But I’ll continue to support him, and I know that I have now accepted this part of him, which I was worried I never fully could.