Untitled

Just a little boy living in Salt Lake City UT. I am gay, and proudly collared to my husband who is also my collared puppy. I'm not interested in women at all so don't message me about being your slave that will put you on the automatic path to getting your ass blocked.

[princess-crinkle-bottoms]

[diaperjoe69]

Yep diapers are my preferred undies

[bidiaperboy29]

They are my only underwear

[batman-baby]

Yes don’t know how to feel without them

[paddedbigbro]

Interview with the Diaper Boy - Part 2

My interview with Hayden continues from Part 1. There, Hayden agreed to collaborate and share about his life and experiences. Hayden is 22 years old and lives with his childhood friend and boyfriend Reid.

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Q: You mentioned the school's diapering policy when you were in middle school. What else do you remember about it?

A: Um . . . when you say "the school's" policy, I guess I should clarify something. The policy wasn't actually set by the middle school I went to in Fort Worth. It was broader than that. Although I assume there must have been a degree of discretion in how the policy was applied, because of how procedure changed from middle school to high school. My IEP and 504 changed too.

Q: Ok, but wait though. What is an IEP?

A: An IEP is an individualized education plan. I had an IEP because my "disabilities" were believed to impact how I learned and functioned. So that meant I needed "specialized" instruction and other support and accommodations based on my "needs." The way that worked is I had a bunch of different "goals" about my behavior, emotional regulation, impulse control and social regulation. Almost all of my "goals" were compliance based.

My step-mom monopolized that entire process when we moved to Fort Worth. Academically, she had a whole case prepared about how I was too stupid to keep up with regular subjects or even understand the material. She also said I couldn't talk or interact with others properly and I couldn't tie my shoes or recognize when I needed to go to the bathroom.

Thankfully, her say-so wasn't the only thing considered. I probably would have been forced into a self-contained classroom after I had to repeat the 6th grade, if not for the functional assessments. My grades at my old school were the primary basis for why my step-mom argued I had learning disabilities.

Q: Your "disabilities"? It sounds like you don't like that word.

A: The word "disability" is actually a term with a specific legal meaning in the context of education law, but that's not the only context in which it's used.

When people talk about "disabilities" or being "disabled" in a general sense, they rarely know what counts as a disability in a legal or policy sense and what does not. Instead, they fill in the gaps with stereotypes, over-generalizations and assumptions without any actual basis. Those tendencies have consequences that people don't think about unless they've been on the receiving end of the harm they cause.

In the context of an IEP, a "disability" includes way more than just learning and intellectual disabilities. It includes sensory, emotional, communication, physical, neurological and a ton of other kinds of disabilities. So autism, ADHD, dyspraxia and stuff like that are totally within the scope.

None of those things imply cognitive impairment. But people assume that being disabled in any way that qualifies you for an IEP means you're cognitively impaired. Like you can't learn properly. That is why autistic, ADHD and neurodivergent people (especially teenagers) get treated like very young children or infants. It's also why my idiot step-mom assumed I was stupid because I couldn't tie my shoes. Even after she had my IQ tested and she had objective proof I wasn't stupid, she still treated me like I was. It's why she made me have a fucking babysitter when I was 18 years old, for example.

Doctors did that too. They still do. They have all of my life. Here's an example. When my step-mom took me to my regular doctor when I had the flu in high school, the doctor barely even talked to me. He asked me questions like I was a toddler. Then he turned to my step-mom to ask the questions that mattered. With the answers she gave, he might have thought it was necessary to test me for mono. Which . . . just . . . no.

My step-mom gave him wrong information about MY symptoms and I corrected her. But this fucking doctor gave me the "hey buddy" line about letting her talk so he could figure out what was wrong. I hate that phrase so much. Whenever some fucking adult began their line with "hey buddy," I always knew what it meant. I would be treated like a child and talked down to, while everything I said would be totally ignored. Then if I tried to advocate for myself, my cunt step-mom would say I was being "disrespectful" and make up an excuse to punish me or whatever.

Q: That sounds really traumatizing.

A: Yeah. It was.

Q: What about your 504? What is that?

A: A 504 is a "plan" is something you get when a disability impacts your ability to fully participate in school and school-related stuff. So like if you have some kind of diagnosed disability, the point of a 504 "plan" is to figure out how you can participate in regular classes with other non-disabled students.

In all fairness I probably needed a 504 plan because I literally could not function in normal school and classroom settings. That school was a total sensory nightmare.

Q: What was it like having to repeat the 6th grade?

Bro . . . I fucking hated it. I was in these crazy easy classes and I was so bored. I got in trouble a lot because most of my teachers just wrote me off.

So here's an example. I had this one teacher who would just relentlessly bully this girl in my class who clearly had problems. I don't know what they were but she just wasn't okay. The way he looked at her was also really creepy. All of the other kids in the class just let it happen. This girl broke down in tears a few times in class.

One day I'd just had enough of watching all of this happen. It was really bothering me how he treated her because legit I'd been on the receiving end of that shit myself for all of my life. So I called him out in front of the whole class. He told me to shut up and sit down. He refused to apologize to her. Then, he got super aggressive with me and made me go to the principal's office. I got called aggressive, disruptive and insubordinate.

I told the principal what happened and yet . . . for whatever fucking reason . . . still got a written warning. Basically, a pink slip saying that if it happened again I could face some kind of disciplinary consequences.

Then my step-mom had to sign it and she totally didn't give a shit about what happened. She believed this creep bully piece of shit teacher and accused me of lying, then spanked me and made me stay in my room the whole night after I got done with my homework. Like whatever.

The next time it happened I got another pink slip and I got paddled at school. That was hilarious. So in Texas paddling students is a thing. It's legit insane. The vice principal made me bend over a chair while he hit my butt with some fucking wooden plank. Didn't hurt much because I was wearing one of those stupid medical diapers. But I was still paddled. I had three "swats" as they called it. My step-mom spanked me at home for real then, too. Like, bare bottom as per her usual ritual. But the punishment at school was a fucking joke.

Third time it happened they tried to remove me from the classroom. But eventually, the principal listened to me and that teacher had something happen to him because he straight up disappeared in the second half of the year.

Q: How many times did you get paddled?

A: I really don't remember. I think by the tenth time or so they stopped because they were concerned about getting sued.

Q: What do you mean?

A: My step-mom threatened to sue them. I don't remember the details. They stopped paddling me after that.

Q: So she could spank you but they couldn't?

A: Yeah . . . I guess so. I never got paddled again after that, even in high school. Other kids did. But I didn't.

Q: Did you still have to wear diapers in high school?

A: Yeah. Same routine for the most part, but there were some changes by the time I was a junior.

Q: What kinds of changes?

A: Like I don't remember everything, but the anti-strip onesies came back for me when I was a sophomore for a little while.

Q: What was the cause?

A: I had an allergic reaction to something and I was really itchy, so I was scratching my lower back and accidentally unsnapped the onesie I was wearing. I took off my hoodie and the "adults" accused me of trying to remove the onesie. This teacher I had at the time said I was behaving erratically and being disruptive. So I spent the rest of the year in anti-strip onesies. Even at home. It was really stupid, but whatever.

Q: What was it like having to wear the anti-strip onesies as a sophomore?

A: These onesies were the anti-strip onesies with some kind of snaps I couldn't remove by myself. They zipped in the back at the side. While they were less of a sensory nightmare than some of the others, just imagine trying to sleep like that. It was hard.

So when you were sixteen, you probably could at least see yourself without someone else around. I couldn't. I couldn't even shower with the bathroom door closed and as soon as I got out, either my step-mom or my step brother would put me in a diaper and one of those fucking back-zip onesies. Like I couldn't even get myself off because I couldn't get my hands inside those onesies.

I looked a lot younger than I was, too. I didn't have much body hair, but it was still removed. I still don't have any body hair for the most part. Especially around my lower abdomen because that was my "diaper area" and having hair there was unhygienic or whatever.

It was also super humiliating because it was just one more rule or whatever I had that no one else my age had. Like all of the stuff most teenagers do without even thinking about it, I couldn't. I had an iPad but it had parental controls on it that limited what I could do with it. Like YouTube kids and basic games and stuff. I had a laptop but it had parental controls and screen time limits. While most 16 year old guys were either learning how to drive or had cars of their own by then, I was getting my diaper changed by a babysitter and spanked by step-mommy dearest whenever I misbehaved.

Now I kind of like being babysat and spanked. But only by Reid and only on my terms.

Q: How does that work?

A: Reid and I negotiated the terms together, I guess. We actually have it written down somewhere, and we check in on how things are going every now and then.

Q: Who came up with the terms?

A: I think Reid came up with some of them and I came up with others. But both of us had to agree before they'd apply.

Q: What are some examples of the "terms" you're talking about? Are they rules? Maybe routines, or something else?

A: Um . . . like all of the above, I guess?

__________________________________________

More to come in Part 3.

[wetdiaperboy007]

Progressing In Diapers

Compliments to the pic. Thanks

Sleeping In Diapers Is My Pleasure To This Day

Bedwetting seemed to always be present in my world too. Mom had tried everything to stop my bedwetting, using anti-bedwetting training ideas: Cutting off my drinks an hour or more before bed, waking me up regularly each night to pee, alarms etc.  She did this consistently for almost a year when I was around 8 but if she was gone for more than a couple of days like vacations, or if we went to our grandparents cottage or skiing or anything out of our regular patterns, it all fell apart and she knew it, so it was always diapers during travel for me. Get up to your room and I’ll be there in a moment to get you ready for the car ride. 

When I was about 6-8 I also had so many messy accidents at least once a week because I was afraid to go to the bathroom at school so mom would often change me into my nighttime diapers right after school just in case. I think she tried this method several times even if I was ok…she would ask me when I got home from school to do homework “I think it might be better if you go up to your room and I will put you in a diaper, go on…”. What happened is that she actually realized diapers calmed me down…My  learning and ultimately my absorbing facts and ensuring my mind was expanding; my mother was the sole witness and the one to realize it was more important for me to settle down and  really learn so a bit of pee in some diapers was a minimal cost in time and aggravation that would be the regular behaviour and it was noticeable that diapers  which she realized stopped some ADD behaviours.  Diapers was something that was just known in our house within the family and any babysitters or even neighbours and that Petey wore diapers and rubber pants in bed every night, sometimes right after school. It was easier for everyone. I finally grew out of that around 11 kinda…for a short time.

When I was around 10 a friend of mine, Dean, came up to our house and it was a sleepover. My mom asked him specifically if he was ready for bed and she took him into the bathroom and told me to read my book for a few minutes. He came out with puffy pjs on but that night we both slept on the floor of the basement in front of the fire in sleeping bags. Anyway, I woke up a bit with one eye open and at one point saw him squatting and realised he was peeing and pooping. I was so curious and excited! He wore diapers just like me! 

Then my mom in the morning called him upstairs . She said “Dean is first then I will call you for your shower.” Then I heard her say to him…”Let's get you out of that wet smelly diaper” I was immediately fascinated because all I could think about was how I have diapers for my bed wetting when it was bad at 8-9. Anyway after that when I was at Dean's house another day, I looked in his dresser drawers in his room when he went downstairs to see his mom for something… top drawer was full of plastic pants and diaper pins and baby powder and baby oils. Second drawer down, cloth diapers on one side and disposables on the other…I grabbed a disposable before his return and put it in my nap sack. I loved it….then coincidentally I started wetting the bed again every night until my mom said..”It’s back to diapers for you”  It became a regular thing. I would go a few days without wetting but most of the time I got used to wetting my diapers and it happened naturally. Some days I would wake up and intentionally poop my diaper and apologise but that guaranteed me to be put in a training pants and plastic pants for that whole day,,,yeh! I preferred it.

Mornings 

Don’t ask me why but, my Mother had a very difficult time training me out of diapers in time for kindergarten at five. At a very young age I  remember some mornings  when I was 6 or 7 while still in my night diaper enjoying squatting and pooping and saying when I went downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast in my pjs with my plastic pants crinkling, “Sorry, I couldn't hold it” and my Mom would just look at me in that special disappointed way… 

When Dad was around, I was swooped up and then changed out of my poopie D ( which is the way we referred to diapers) into either a fresh thick training pant or if on a weekend I would often be diapered for the day as a scolding so I spent a lot of time in my room. Often I would just enjoy doing something like building a crystal radio or reading something or building something for hot wheels or whatever… I actually liked being alone and would use my diaper…I guess I didn’t see what all the hype was about peeing or pooing my pants…I guess I liked it.

Other times, usually if Dad was not there, I was told “Just eat your breakfast first, then I will change you after.”  

Those times I remember because I acted like I didn’t like it but secretly I liked to sit down gently, and feel the poop squish around me after I had just squatted down to push out my morning number 2. 

If it was a weekend and I came to breakfast with a messy diaper Mom would give me a stare in that disappointed way. I guess she got tired of changing her 6 or 8 or 9 year old. She would just say “I’m not going to worry all day about you getting to the bathroom, so when I change you, you’ll be in diapers all day...you’ll just have to come and see me if you need a change or if you decide you want to use the toilet then I'll help you”. 

When I was in grades 1 to 3 ( age 7, 8,9) I got to be pretty good, well let's just say I was getting better at avoiding pee pee and poo poo accidents and getting to the bathroom for the most part during the day at school. That meant trips to the nurse’s office .

I often had training pants on. The exception was arriving home, usually about twice a week, when I was in grade 4, having had a full accident in my training pants. That was pretty normal one or two times weekly. I just got carried away playing sometimes, and left it too late to make it home to the bathroom. Sometimes it happened at school and the school office would call my mother and she would be told to bring fresh underwear and pants to the nurses office. I was known for pooping my pants and teased about being a baby. Mom usually arrived with fresh pants and a diaper. 

Today it’s 24/7 for me and I love my calming diapers!

[babydou17]

"The Life!" - Parts 3 & 4 (Remastered)

You can find other chapters by searched #TheLifeABDL on our blog.

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The man’s face brightens up as he hears Jake yell his name. His boy was there, finally.

Jake reaches the car. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left, I want this. I want to be with you and uh… Papa. I… It was just a lot to process and I didn’t know how to react but I’ve made my decision.”

The man cannot hide his smile. This went much faster than expected and he could not be happier. He hugs Jake and asks “Should we go meet Papa then?”.

Jake nods, feeling butterflies in his stomach and his now-Daddy continues, “Okay babyboy, get in your car and follow me. Enjoy the big boy privilege of driving because that’s probably the last time for you.”

Jake blushes at this comment but does not think about it too much.

His new life is about to begin.

He follows the man for about twenty minutes. The drive seems never-ending. He is both happy and excited but also fearful and anxious.

They arrive and park in front of a medium sized-house surrounded by bushes and trees. The house is located in a residential area but slightly secluded and it is impossible to see the garden nor inside the house through the windows from outside.

As he parks, Jake peeks at a sign in front of the house - “Welcome to Mark and Peter’s!”. He could finally put a name on the man’s face. But who is Mark and who is Peter, he wondered.

The man gets out of his car and sees Jake looking at the sign.

“You little detective, I cannot hide anything from you already ! Now, let’s play a game. If you guess what my name is, you get to wear a Pamp‘. If you guess wrong, you get double-padded!”

Jake giggles, “ummm… you are Mark !”.

“Bad luck! I guess someone is getting a double-padding for his first diapee change. I’m Daddy Peter! But you can just call me Daddy or Dadda, understood ?”.

Jake nods and blushes. “Yes Daddy”.

“Good boy. Now, I think Papa is taking a nap. He certainly is not expecting you to be there already but let’s go and wake him up.”

Peter opens the door to his boy for the first time and Jake discovers his new place. The house is very modern and looks comfortable. The living room itself is bigger than Jake’s entire apartment, but nothing babyish in sight.

“I know baby, I know. I have to be honest, Papa and I thought it would take some time for you to come, so everything is still stored. Don’t worry, we’ll have all your little things set up in no-time!

Papa is upstairs but before we go up… do you think this is a proper outfit to meet him? You must know that if I am strict, Papa is even more. We don’t want him getting mad on your first encounter just because you’re not wearing the proper outfit, do we ?.”

With this, Daddy motions his hands to Jake’s belt. “Are you ready?”.

Jake nods, fully trusting the man who was a stranger a couple of years ago.

Peter then proceeds to unbuckle Jake’s pants and pulls them down. Seeing Jake’s naughty parts rock hard in his boxers.

“My, my, my… someone is a happy little guy. I want your first Pamp’ to be a moment shared with Papa as well, so we will just put you in your footies for now, okay?”

Jake’s face is redder than ever before.

“Yes daddy, that’s okay.”

“Can I pull your boxers down as well buddy? Are you ready?”

“Y…yes daddy”.

Peter slowly pulls down Jake’s boxers and sees him naked for the first time. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about baby, why are you so blushy ? Did you expect us to change you without seeing your little Willy ?”.

He then helps Jake get into his footed pajamas. These pajamas are striped with yellow and white, with a Bunny in the middle.

He then proceeds to zip-up the pajamas.

Jake is not wearing anything underneath and a bulge is definitely showing. He is trying is hardest to control his emotions but there is nothing he can do to prevent this.

Peter grabs Jake’s pacifier from his backpack and puts it in his mouth.

“Look at you, the cutest of all! All ready for Papa!”, he says enthusiastically.

He grabs his phone and snaps a first of many many pictures.

Jake grabs Daddy’s hand and follows him upstairs. They slowly enter the master bedroom where a totally unknown man is sleeping. Jake knows nothing about him but his name… Mark.

Peter announces “Mark, honey. Wake up! Look who’s here!”

Mark wakes up in haste and looks at Peter and Jake. It takes him a moment to process what is happening in front of him.

A loud gasp comes out of his mouth. “Oh, My, God. Is this…?” Peter nods without even needing the end of the sentence.

“Hiii JayJay. How are you buddy?”, he says slowly approaching Jake who’s still suckling on his pacifier.

Mark gives him a hug. “You are absolutely adorable!”

Jake can feel Mark’s gaze examining him until he stops for a second. “Hmmm what’s this about ?” Papa Mark says pointing at Jake’s hard-on under his pajamas.

“As cute as you are, I don’t think this is much appropriate for a little guy like you.”

“What do you think honey?” He says looking at Peter playfully.

“I sure do agree, I thought his first change should be done all together!” Peter replies.

“You’re too sweet”, Mark says before giving a kiss to his husband.

“Have you showed him his room yet?”

“Of course not!”

“Alright, should we go ahead ? Would you like to see your room kiddo ?” Mark asks, talking to Jake like he would to a 2-year old.

Jake nods and mumbles through his paci “Y…yes Papa”.

Mark’s heart melts at this comment. This is the first time anyone calls him this. A moment he has been dreaming about.

He quickly picks-up Jake in his arms, heading to the nursery. Both Peter and Mark are taller than Jake and can carry him, not for long distances, but around the house is no issue.

Mark carries Jake to the room facing the master bedroom, Peter follows behind.

The room has an unfinished wooden decoration saying “ Little ____’s nursery.”

Mark points at it. “Now, what should it say Buddy?”

Jake blushes and can’t help but giggle.

“Jaaake”, he says covering his face.

“Absolutely! We’ll have this finalized soon. So…are you ready to see Little Jake’s nursery ?”, Mark asks opening the door and looking right into his little guy’s eyes.

Jake’s eyes sparkle.

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As the door opens, Mark and Peter do not say a word and let their new little boy take in the view.

Jake cannot believe his eyes. Is this a dream ? He saw a lot of nurseries while scrolling through ABDL blogs over the last few weeks, but this one?

This one is next level.

The walls are painted with a light blue and white paint. Teddy bears prints cover the walls.

On the right stands what looks like a big changing table with shelves stacked up with paddings of all brands, lotion, powder and wipes. On top of the changing table is a thick padded plastic mat. It looks comfortable and appealing to Jake. It has clouds all over and matches the room perfectly. Strangely enough, when Jake sees those clouds, he does not think about regular clouds but pictures large baby powder clouds. This is all that comes to mind in this environment.

Next to the table is a large bed. Not any kind of bed, it’s a crib. It has rails reaching maybe 7ft high. Not impossible to climb but definitely a challenge !

Inside the crib, a mattress with a Paw Patrol bedsheet. Of course, the mattress is protected with a Waterproof fitted sheet which Jake cannot see. It should not be any of his business anyway.

There is no thick bed duvet in the crib, but instead a fluffy Dinosaur blanket. There is no need for a full duvet since Jake will always be sleeping in a onesie and footed pajamas.

Above the mattress is a mobile with different kinds of jungle animals.

One thing catches Jake’s attention. A white box is attached to this mobile.

Mark looks at Jake’s confused face.

“What is it cutie? Do you not like the mobile in your crib?”

“I think he’s wondering about the camera”, Peter laughs.

Jake’s eyes open wide. A camera ? Over his bed ? Why would there be a need of a camera recording above his head at all times ??!

“It’s a baby monitor sweetie. We just need to keep an eye on you to make sure you are safe and also not being a naughty boy, that’s all. It is just for Papa and Daddy”, Peter reassures.

“Now let’s go see your closet!”

Jake barely has time to recover from the unexpected camera above his bed that Daddy and Papa open the two doors of his closet.

Once again, he is left speechless.

An incalculable amount of Pamps are tidily stacked up on top of each other. Jake has never seen so many in one place. It looks like at least 400 of them in there.

Next to the closet is another piece of furniture with a dozen of footed pajamas and all kinds of onesies, padded briefs, bibs, socks, t-shirts, shorts.

Jake is in pure bliss.

This is so jaw-dropping that his pacifier falls out of his mouth and onto the floor. Peter picks it up and puts it in his mouth to clean it and then places it back on Jake’s lips.

Jake is surprised and does not accept it at first.

“Buddy… will you be a good boy for your first day in the house, or do you want a spanking already?” Daddy asks.

Jake knows that a life in this idyllic nursery comes to a price and he also needs to make efforts. He slowly opens his mouth and sucks on his paci, a bit upset that Daddy did not even dry it from his own saliva.

“Good boy, I’m proud of you”, says Peter.

“Holy cow! This little guy is heavy!” Mark interrupts, before gently sitting up Jake on his changing table. “Wow, I will need to hit the gym again for my little boy!” He says showing his biceps.

Carrying Jake was no issue but it had been a few minutes and surely made his arms tired.

“So, now that you have seen your very own room, how do you feel?”, Peter asks.

This was no real questions since all that could be seen was the raging hard-on under Jake’s pajamas since he entered the house. No words could describe better Jake’s feelings than what was happening under these footies.

Jake takes a few seconds before simply replying “Gwood!”, under his paci.

“Yes? Are you ready to hear about your rules ? We know this is not the funniest part but they are mandatory to make sure you are being a safe, happy and healthy little one, okay?”

Jake nods.

“Good boy. Then we will put you in your thick Pamps you have been patiently waiting for, I promise.”

Peter then leaves the room and comes back a few seconds later with a large printed poster that he sticks to the wall, right next to the changing table.

————————

The poster states :

Rules for our little one

1. Always listen to Papa or Daddy,

2. No bad words

3. Never remove your clothes or padding/protection yourself,

4. Daddy and Papa will change you whenever AND wherever they think necessary, you are not allowed to touch yourself at all,

5. Never, under any circumstances try to use the big boy potty. This is Daddy and Papa’s potty. Yours is around your waist.

6. You will be using your Pamps for number 1 and number 2 always,

7. Your bedtime will be 8pm every weekday and 8:30pm in the weekend,

8. You are not to climb out of your crib or get out of your playpen or highchair without permission,

9. Your peepee will always be locked-up in a chastity cage. You may only make naughty stickies when and how Papa or Daddy allow you to,

10. You will not feed yourself unless allowed by Papa or Daddy,

11. You will be fed a jar of babyfood dessert for every meal. You will be fed one full babyfood meal twice a week depending on Daddy and Papa’s decision. You will not know in advance. Any other food will be blended, except few rare occasions.

12. You will be fed a bottle of formula every morning and a bottle of regular milk every night before bed,

13. You will drink or eat what Papa and Daddy prepare for you without making a fuss,

14. You will wear a bib for ALL meals and anytime of the day Daddy or Papa deem it appropriate,

15. You will be eating in a highchair for ALL meals unless allowed otherwise by Papa or Daddy,

16. You will be wearing a padding and onesie at all times. When going outside with Papa and/or Daddy, you will be wearing a padding and onesie under “big boy clothes” picked by Daddy and/or Papa,

17. You must tell Papa and Daddy if you are feeling unhappy or unwell.

In return Papa and Daddy will provide all the love and care in the world, a comfy day-to-day life and make you the happiest Pamperpacker on earth.

This rule set is non-exhaustive and rules can be added over time.

————————

While Jake reads the entire document, Mark and Peter start getting the supplies ready for his very first change. Jake is captivated by the rules and lets Mark unzip his pajamas without paying much attention.

Once he is done reading, he sees Mark and Peter looking at him, waiting to see a reaction.

Peter holds a fresh Peekabu and asks “So, JayJay? What do you think? Are you ready to commit to this ?”

Even though Jake is a bit flustered by a few rules, especially the one about the chastity cage and the babyfood which were not elements he had ever considered. How could he refuse ? This is his chance to live “The Life!” he has been dreaming about.

Jake nods.

“Yes daddy and papa, I am ready”.

To be continued…

[babydou17]

“The Life!” - Parts 1 & 2 (Remastered)

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It has been a year today.

A year that Jake, a 25 year old, wakes up in a crib. A year that every morning, a thick padding prevents him from fully closing his legs. A year that he has to wait to be picked up from his crib to start off the day.

The thing is…he asked for it and gets what he dreamed of, but at what cost? It all went much further and quicker than he anticipated. A part of him wishes to go back in time and yet he wonders if deep down he would really want to live a normal life.

——————————

It all started when Jake discovered an entire new world. A colorful and comforting one : the ABDL world. That was around eighteen months ago and as usual with Jake, everything had to go fast. He quickly bought himself a few packs of pull-ups, a pair of footed pajamas and a pacifier. He spent more and more time enjoying this new universe, discovering the pleasure of wearing paddings that got thicker and crinklier with time. From pull-ups to Peekabus. He had a lot of fun in them though he never dared using them for their intended purpose. He did constantly rub them while scrolling through ABDL content on the internet but he would never imagine doing anything more inside his new favorite underwear. Would that be a step too much ? He wondered. He was a man and that was just a fun hobby after all!

Weeks went by and he kept telling himself that it was “The Life !”. Nothing made him feel more at peace than when he was safely tucked in his crinkly padding. After a few weeks, his readings of fantasy stories made him crave for more. Cribs, highchairs, bibs, everything seemed appealing. But “it’s just for fun!”, he would keep reminding himself.

Yet, he felt a need to push it a bit further, eager to know more and decided to register on forums and live chats to talk to other ABDL’s.

This is precisely where it all started.

On a late Saturday night while thickly padded, he connected with what felt like his 100th chat of the night. Conversations on this forum came and went without really lasting in time. However, this one was different. A man called “StrictDaddy90” showed up on his screen. Jake considered himself bisexual but had never had any experience with men yet. However, the thought of talking to a Daddy made him shiver with excitement and the clear bulge forming under his pajamas did not say otherwise.

They talked for a night, and two and three. Both seemed very much into each other. What you would call a perfect match. Jake would set a new nightly routine for himself : get in a fresh padding, put on his footed pajamas and log-in to the forum where he would talk to “StrictDaddy90” for hours.

After some time, they decided to take it a step further. Luckily both only lived less than a couple of hours apart. Jake’s eagerness and excitement pushed him to make the move and offer the man to drive close to his hometown to see each other for the first time.

The next weekend, Jake drove to a pub close to where “StrictDaddy90” lived. He did not even know the name of this man. All he knew was their meeting point and that he was very excited for their encounter.

Here it was, the first day he would see someone who knows who he really is… a maybe-not-so-manly man.

The driving was easy but Jake’s emotions were all over the place going from pure excitement to anxiousness. After parking, he took a deep breath, grabbed his backpack containing one Peekabu, his only pair of pajamas and his pacifier. He then entered the pub, sat at a table and waited, his heart pounding in his chest.

After a few minutes, a man approached and asked… “Jake?”.

It is at this moment Jake’s life changed forever.

————————————

Jake looks at the man sat in front of him and does not know what to say. He does not know much about the man but it surely is no easy task to start a conversation with someone who knows his biggest secret !

“Um… hello, uh…I don’t even know your name”, Jake says, a bit embarrassed and blushing already.

The man looks at him a bit surprised, “What do you mean? Of course you know my name. How have you been calling me during our online chats?”

Jake stops for a second and can only think of one name. “D…daddy, I guess,” he says with a face getting redder and redder.

“Exactly! That’s a good boy. Now… that’s very nice of you to have ordered a drink for daddy, I hope you did not think this was for you.” The man says pointing at a beer Jake had just ordered at the pub counter a few minutes ago.

“Well… uh… I just ordered something to wait for you.”

“That’s nonsense Buddy. Do you think that’s what Daddy would have ordered for you?”.

Jake shakes his head and looks down a bit ashamed of getting scolded by someone for the first time in years, but also aroused by the feeling, his jeans feeling tighter and tighter.

“I’m sorry…”,

“Sorry who?”, the man replies.

“Daddy…I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

A few seconds go by and the man continues.

“Now little boy, do you remember I promised you a surprise?”

Jake nods.

“Well… there is something Daddy has never told you... Daddy does not live alone and is married.”

Jake’s heart drops at this very moment and his world falls apart. Was this a trap? Why would this man want to meet him if he’s already married ? His eyes get teary and his emotions are clearly showing.

“Do not panic, I owe you an explanation and need you to listen to me. Then you can make your own mind and decide to leave or stay, okay? I do not mean any harm,” the man says with a very calming and reassuring tone.

Jake, unable to speak, simply nods.

“Good. So Daddy is married to another man and we have both been looking for a babyboy just like you. We are both very much into ABDL but jokes on us, both of us are on the Daddy Side. I have not talked about this before because I know you have never had any sort of experience with a man and I did not want to scare you off.

You mean the world to us already and we would like you to join our household. Or at least give it a try.

Isn’t this what you’ve been dreaming of? Being under my care, not having a single worry in the world but picking what toy you’re going to play with, or knowing when daddy is coming to change your full Pamps ? Well, that’s exactly what would happen but with the two of us : Daddy and Papa. You would just be our little prince and would get the happiest life you can imagine.

We have everything ready for you Jake : a nursery, a playpen, a highchair, a full closet of the fluffiest paddings and the cutest outfits. We built all of this months ago and have been waiting for the perfect little man to complete our family. However, you must be aware that this is a full commitment, if you decide to join us, there will be no more big boy Jake. You will be a treated as a toddler, Jake. 24/7 with absolutely no exception and it comes with a lot of rules.”

Jake blushes and looks around to make sure no one can hear what the man in front of him is saying.

He finally is able to speak after getting his senses back together.

“I…I don’t know, this is not what I imagined. I feel played. I need some time to think. I’m sorry.”

With this, Jake grabs his bag and runs to his car. As he sits down in the car, tears roll down his face. What should he do? What if this life makes him happy? What if this will be his only chance to ever be who he really is? He is not worried about what his family would think about this, they stopped talking since Jake came out to them a few years ago and he has been feeling better than ever without this weight on his shoulders. This decision has to be made for himself only and what he thinks is best for him.

As his emotions swirl in his head, Jake sees the man leave the pub and cross the empty parking lot heading to his car. The signal lights of the man’s car lit up as he clicks on his car key.

Jake takes a deep breath and puts his hand on his car door handle, ready to make a life-changing action. He opens the door.

"Daddy, wait!".

To be continued…

[boundguysblog]

[mr-waffles-study]

“So what do you want for lunch, bud?”

You sit in your car seat and think, your brow furrowed slightly. You loved getting lunch with Daddy, but deciding what to eat was so hard for you.

You used to be so fast with making decisions; ever since you started dating Daddy, you sometimes felt like you were thinking through some kind of haze. This was one of those times. What sounded good? You just couldn’t think of anything.

“Ummmm,” you say, spacing out slightly.

“I think I know what sounds good, buddy. I gotcha,” Daddy says, turning the wheel of the car into the next parking lot.

“Where are we going, Daddy?” You’re getting excited, since Daddy always knew the best places to eat.

“Close your eyes, kiddo, I want it to be a surprise!”

You closed your eyes dutifully, and tried to guess where you were going. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you registered a fullness in your tummy, but without pressure or urgency. You’ll need to poop when you got home, probably.

The car stops moving, but it’s still idling. Is he in a drive-thru line?

“Daddy! What are we gonna get?!” You’re wiggling in your carseat, eyes still closed, so excited.

Daddy rolls down the window and a scent wafts in. Burgers. You loved the idea of burgers! Your tummy makes the sound. You know your body— you’ll need to go potty right when you get home, apparently. You shift your hips with the uncomfortable pressure.

An unfamiliar voice says “what can I get for you?” Eyes still closed, you hear Daddy’s voice quickly whisper to you, “Earmuffs!”

You don’t notice that your hearing stops working just before your hands reach your ears. If you had, you wouldn’t have cared much anyway.

You assume that Daddy is ordering for you, as you sit deaf and blind in the car seat. The smell of the burgers becomes stronger as you feel the car moving forward. Where are you? It’s not some typical fast food place…

You feel Daddy’s hand on your shoulder. You drop your own hands from your ears, and open your eyes.

It’s obvious now, from the particular scent. You should’ve known.

It’s In-N-Out, you realize. The haze in your mind gets suddenly thicker, your tummy burbling noisily.

“Surprise, kiddo!” Daddy’s beaming face shines at you from the driver’s seat. “It’s your favorite: In-N-Out!”

It’s like the last words he says are slowed, somehow. Or spoken through a tunnel. Your head feels fuzzy for a moment, the haze suddenly cresting like a wave, stifling light and sound. Then an image arises, unbidden, into your mind.

You’re lying on the bed, staring up at Daddy. His… big boy parts are in your bottom. Thrusting. Slowly sliding… in, and out. The rhythm of it is relieving, relaxing. So relaxing; so relaxed. You want him in there, gently making love to you. In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

“Peeyew! Honey, are you OK?” Daddy pushes a button and rolls down the window. “Goodness, you’re pretty gassy, aren’t you?”

You smell it first, the earthy scent of your mess. Your face scrunches up in disgust and humiliation before you can even register the sensation of the filthy load sliding out (in and out) of your slackened little bottom. Realizing with surprise and terror at what’s happening— you are pooping your pants in Daddy’s car!— you try to clench but your muscles barely give a half-hearted twitch. You practically jump out of your seat in panic…

… and with a speed you’ve come to admire, Daddy reaches behind the seat, pulls out a disposable absorbent mat, and slips it under you to protect your seat in a single, fluid, practiced motion. You’re too shocked to hold yourself off the seat. Your legs tremble, and then give out, your bottom settling into the involuntary mound.

Before you can react any further, Daddy has picked up the drive-through order and is driving away. You stutter a curse. Daddy tells you, sternly, “watch your tongue, baby boy. That’s big kid language, and it smells like you’re not a big kid right now, are you?” You swallow your response, still processing what had happened.

It dawns on you slowly, over the next few minutes, point by point:

Daddy isn’t surprised this happened.

Daddy knew this would happen.

Daddy planned for this to happen.

Daddy made this happen.

You remember, partially, the soft chair in Daddy’s study. You remember his voice, so comforting. He must’ve hypnotized you! You’ve never had a public accident before, but you’d told Daddy how much the thought excited you, and he must’ve done something to your mind to make it happen!

You turned to him, face flushed, and said in your little kid voice “Daddy? Did you make me potty my pants?” You couldn’t hold back all of the grin at the idea.

And neither could he, which is what gave away the lie he then gave you, his voice laced with staged admonishment: “kiddo, you don’t need Daddy’s help being little! You had an accident all on your own, right in the car seat, no less! and we’re going to need to put you in diapers for the rest of the month!”

You looked down at your feet. A whole month? You worked from home, so it wasn’t like it was a difficult sell. You were excited, but also scared. You knew you could say no, at any time. You took a moment and made your decision.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby boy?”

“Can we get — can we get burgers from that place more often?” You thought it might be wise to avoid saying it out loud.

Daddy broke out in a tremendous smile, then put his hand casually on your crotch, gently squeezing your excited little boy parts.

“I thought you liked Jack-in-the-Box more?” He pronounced the words carefully, annunciating them to make sure you heard every syllable.

Jack-in-the-Box.

Your eyes fluttered. A groan escaped your lips. The last coherent thought you managed to produce before your mind was overtaken again by the haze, before your hips spasmodically started thrusting against Daddy’s wide palm on your crotch, before you helplessly blew your load in your pants like an overexcited teenager, was an incredulous how many triggers did he put in me?

(this one is for @bouncy-baby-bun! Thanks for the request, and for inspiring this-- I hope you enjoy it!)

[adultbabystories]

Just In Case

“Wear it just in case.”

First, you heard it from your partner, but in time the sentence rang in your mind over and over. Before going to bed, lying down at night, and even sometimes during the day. “Just in case” was a sign for relief, but also stress. “Just in case” for what? Can’t you control yourself? Are you a toddler? “Just in case,” who said so? Not you. But now it's stuck in your head.

“Wear it just in case,” your partner said as the diaper package was ripped open on your bed. A thick white diaper was handed to you. It was soft and had a certain smell to it.

A week ago, you were telling your partner that you were tired of waking up a few times at night to pee, and sometimes you were actually rushing to the toilet, fearing you wouldn't make it. There were times you were so sleepy you fought yourself to get up. But the most difficult nights were the ones you dreamt about peeing. You remember one lucid dream where you were about to pee in the dream, but suddenly realized you were dreaming and screamed to yourself to wake up, not wanting to wet the bed.

“You’ll sleep better, and I’m sure you’ll stay dry, but just wear it, just in case.” The diaper crinkled under your grip as you considered what was said.

These days, most nights you were going to sleep diapered, especially when you had lots to drink before bed or when you were really tired.

“Did you get diapered?” “Want me to help you get on your diaper?” “Are you good for tonight?”

Those kinds of questions were being asked before bed. At first, you were a bit shy about it, but now it was just a part of the evening routine.

Lying in bed, your mind always wandered. Will you eventually wet yourself? Why are you wearing those if you’re always waking up to pee and waking up dry? Sometimes in the middle of the night, you woke up to the bathroom, but for a split second, you thought about just letting go in the diaper instead of leaving the cozy bed. But you won’t do it, you mustn’t. You won’t choose to wet yourself. Wetting your diaper consciously isn’t an option. 

For more than a week, your partner brought you new kinds of diapers. Baby printed ones, with colorful prints on them. And they were thicker for sure.

They don’t seem like a solution to a medical or serious problem. The diapers look cute, comfy, and welcoming. After you wore one, you looked at yourself in the mirror, turning around, appreciating how cute it looked on you, and, weirdly, how cute you looked.

Those diapers are not bad, they are good. They are funny and playful. Nobody who wears this kind of diaper has a problem. These were your thoughts at night in bed. You fantasized about how they would look swollen and soaked.

The new diapers created a new fear. Wetting intentionally.  

No, you didn’t want that, and you brushed those thoughts away as you fell asleep.

That night, you had your first dream about being a baby. Not a tiny baby acting as one. It was a lucid dream, and you saw yourself wearing the same diaper you saw in the mirror before going to bed. You knew it was just a dream, and that was your chance to see the cute diaper swell and grow big.

You released your bladder, half forgetting you were dreaming.

Finally letting go. Finally stepping into the diaper trap you desperately wanted to avoid. Enjoying the new feeling of warmth. Enjoying your new childish behaviour.

In the morning, you’ll wake up to a new surprise and to a new life.

[mommyarabellablog]

[grinchybaby65]

All.ready in my diaper since 6 am and have one a diaper cover and a onsie

[nakeddiaperboy93]

Turning Jake Into Daddy‘s Baby Boy- Chapter 4: The Kidnapper

This is a Fictional Extreme ABDL Story about an 18 year old boy, and a man who have a relationship and very kinky relationship and sexual experiences. Diapers, RP, WS, Gay Sex, Chasity, Butt Plugs and messy diapers as punishments, are just a few of the details to this story. This is one of my first stories ever, so please send any feedback, suggestions, or ideas to [email protected].  Thank you all for reading! Hopefully you enjoy this story as much as I am enjoying writing it! I am going to start out with the first 5 chapters, and then I will try to post 2 chapters every week until its done. Thank you for reading and your feedback. Some chapters are short, and some will be long, it just depends however I feel I need to break it up. Just remember a little is writing this story, not an author. :P

Chapter 4: The Kidnapper

KIDNAPPER

I was sitting in my office, imagining all of the fun things I had planned for my new baby boy.  I was starring at him on my compute screen. I had a camera installed in his crib so I could always have eyes on my baby. There were also cameras showing his entire new room, his nursery. On the computer screen, I could see my baby looking around his new room and taking it all in. He seemed to be a little more calm than I had anticipated. He then turned his head away from everything and started closing his eyes, I gave a chuckle and said to myself out loud, “You can try all you want baby boy, but this is your new life.”

“How long should I let him sit here, maybe just a few more minutes.” Sitting back and enjoying my drink while watching my baby boy squirm and yell and try to escape. After about 30 minutes of this, Im sure it seemed like a lot longer to my baby boy, I decided to start getting things ready to head into his nursery. On my way out of my office, I grabbed the 3 baby bottles full of baby formula, I had prepared while he was fast asleep.

JAKEY

As the door opened, I decided to stop screaming. A tall man stepped in. He was about 6’2” and I would say about 210 lbs. He looked to be about 30 years old. The man who was walking towards me was very muscular and had on a pair of shorts and a t shirt that said “Daddy” on it.

“Well good morning my Baby Jakey.” He says to me. I am almost to scared to talk, but I reply, “What the fuck do you want with me?!? LET ME GO!” The man puts the 3 baby bottles on the changing table and walked up to the side of the crib. “Now now my baby boy, that is no way for a baby to speak. No big boy words!”

“What the fuck? Big boy words?! I am a man! I am 18!!! I can say whatever I want too!” I replied back to my kidnapper.

My kidnapper was very quick to respond aggressively, “Bad baby!! If you use any more bad words, you will be punished, and I mean it. That is no way to speak to your ’Daddy’ now is it??”

“Punished?? Fuck you man! You are one sick guy! HEEEEEELP!!!!!” I start to scream as loud as I can for help, someone else had to be here to help me. A neighbor or someone walking by the house was bound to hear me eventually.

My kidnapper calmly said, “If you don’t stop screaming right now, I will make you stop. I have your breakfast right here and want you to be able to drink it.” My baby stopped squirming so much, and shut his mouth. “Now, if my baby boy can keep his mouth shut, I will explain what is going on,” The kidnapper told me. After he stopped talking, I started to scream one more time. I had to get out of here. “HELP ME! This man has kidnapped me and has me tied down so I ca……” I couldn’t even finish talking, all of a sudden something was put into my mouth and it pulled around my head. I tried to talk, but I couldn’t. “There we go, that will help my baby boy listen to his daddy! Its a Paci gag. You better get used to having things in your mouth baby boy….” He said with an evil grin.

I didn’t give up without a fight! I kept trying to scream and make someone hear me and help me. My kidnapper giggled at my helplessness and finally said, “The quicker you give in, the easier you new life will be my baby boy.” I could not believe anything he was saying. I had to get out of there. I would get out of there.

My kidnapper finally had enough of my bad behavior and he said, “MY BABY BOY DOES NOT ACT LIKE THIS! I WILL do something to change your behavior!” As quick as the gag was place in my mouth, He unsnapped a part of the gag around my head and the middle part of the gag came out. I now had a leather strap around my head with a hollow gag attached and filling my mouth. I still couldn’t sound out any words, but after about 30 seconds of the middle part of the gag removed, I felt some slobber dripping down from my gag to my neck. I tried to scream again and that just forced more spit out of my gag. I was helpless… there was nothing I could do.

After a couple minutes went by of me drooling all over myself, I saw my kidnapper grab one of those baby bottles full of whatever liquid, and he stuffed the nipple in the opening of my gag. “Drink up my baby boy! This is going to make you grow big and strong just like your daddy!” I didn’t want to take in any of this disgusting poison, especially from a baby bottle stuffed inside my gag strapped around my head.

I kept breathing out of my nose, and after about 20 seconds, my kidnapper was very annoyed and he finally plugged my nose with his free hand. I had no other choice but to suck, god only knows what, from the baby bottle through my gag.

It has been years since I had sucked on a baby bottle, and it was a very odd task to do. The white liquid tasted horrible. Its warm and gritty and chalky tasting. I start choking on it but my kidnapper releases my nose and holds the bottle in the gag. I have no choice but to swallow it down. The bottle is about halfway gone before he speaks to me, “How does the baby formula taste baby boy?” Then he gives a little chuckle.

I tried to move my arms again, but no success. They only move a few inches they can move and it was no where near what I needed to even touch my self. 
Once the first bottle was gone, it was removed from the gag and I was able to breath in through the gag. But within seconds, the 2nd bottle was placed in the gag and I went from taking a deep breath, to sucking down more baby milk. This bottle tasted even worse than the first. It had a weird taste to the already horrible baby formula taste.

My kidnapper says to me, “I have added a little extra something something to this bottle for my baby boy. Its going to allow you to use your diapers fully and be the baby boy I want you to be… the one you are inside of that big boy body. There is also a little muscle paralyzer that will make it so you can not move anything below the neck. You will still be able to feel everything, but you just will not be able to move your legs or arms.” As he says this, panic has struck my face and I immediately stop nursing on the bottle. My kidnapper plugs my nose again and says, “You better drink the rest of your baby milk otherwise you will receive another punishment baby boy.” I still hold my breath. After 15 seconds he says, “Now that has earned you another punishment baby boy. How many more do you want today?” Another 15 seconds goes by and I had to suck in. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I was stuck. I had no option besides passing out, and then what would happen to me?

As I near the end of the second bottle, my kidnapper gets the third one ready in his other hand and switches them out before I even have a chance to take a tiny breath as he takes the second bottle out.

Finally the third bottle is almost gone and my kidnapper starts telling me, “If you haven’t realized what your new life is going to be like, I want you to imagine a 6 month old baby, sometimes a 9 month old, or even a 12 month old. We will figure out what age works best for you. But one of those three options will be your new life, for the rest of your life. You will never grow up. I will be the one to make sure you are well taken care of, feed you, change you, bathe you, dress you, cuddle you, punish you, teach you, and love you! YOU ARE MY BABY BOY. I AM YOUR DADDY. See! It even says so on my shirt.” I am so scared right now… I suck on the last bit of the third bottle and he removes the bottle from the gag and replaces the pacifier part in the hollow space.

At this point, I can feel whatever he put in my bottle was making my arms and legs tingly. I tried to wiggle my fingers inside of the locking mittens and I couldn’t. I tried wiggling my toes and I couldn’t. It happened just that fast. Within minutes, I was unable to move my body. “What was he going to do to me?? How could I escape now??” I knew the answer to these questions… ‘Only time will tell.’

[qipice-blog]

[tommywolf]

I always like thick diapeys feels awesomes

[polaris1fan]

It's the best way.

[pampers6026]

[diaperdragonrider69]

Yes I di very much wish this.

[babyganymede]

Perfect Christmas - Chapter One - The Surprise

I’ll be sharing one chapter a day as a little festive treat, all the way through to New Year’s Eve.

Snow had fallen quietly through the night, blanketing the sleepy street in a soft white hush. It was the sort of snow that rarely came to their little southern English town, proper snow, the kind that settled thick and white, rather than melting to slush by sunrise. The rooftops, hedges, and trees were all covered, softened and smoothed like icing on a cake. Streetlights cast a silver glow onto the fresh layer, and not even a car had dared to leave its mark.

Jamie sat on the thick rug in front of the Christmas tree, hardly able to take his eyes off the window. His gaze lingered on the frost-laced glass, where tiny filigree patterns curled along the edges like something out of a fairy tale. His breath caught now and then as another flurry danced through the air. Snow like this didn’t happen. Not here. Not really. It felt like waking into a dream.

Behind him, the living room glowed with the sleepy light of winter warmth. The Christmas tree stood in the corner, its branches twinkling with tiny, coloured lights that reflected off shiny baubles and cast soft dapples on the walls. A faint scent of pine hung in the air, mixed with the buttery remnants of last night’s cinnamon biscuits. The radiator hummed gently beneath the window, trying its best to hold the chill at bay.

Jamie sat cross-legged in the middle of it all, snug in his red fleece footed sleeper, decorated with prancing reindeer and tiny gold snowflakes. The suit’s sleeves were slightly too long, curling around his hands, Daddy had bought it that way on purpose. He liked when Jamie had to snuggle into things. One hand rested in Billy’s soft fur, his beloved bear tucked firmly against his side. The other pushed a favourite toy train along a winding wooden track that zig-zagged through the rug’s patterns.

His dummy bobbed softly between his lips, the motion automatic, calming. His nappy, heavy from the night, sagged warm and thick between his legs, spreading them just enough to make the way he moved a quiet waddle. But Jamie didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t care. The soft bulk was normal now. Expected. Comforting.

He hadn’t spoken yet that morning. Some days were like that. Not because he was shy — just because the peace felt too perfect to interrupt with big boy words.

It was quiet, and still, and magical.

Until the familiar sound of footsteps creaked on the stairs.

Jamie didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. He knew the rhythm, calm and confident, like everything else about Daddy.

A moment later, he stood in the doorway.

Daddy, 45, strong and warm, dressed in his softest house jumper and flannel pyjama bottoms, carried a steaming mug of tea in one hand. His face was calm, but Jamie could feel it before he even spoke. The shift in the air. That tone. Jamie, just five years younger at 40, had chosen this life freely, a life of softness, structure, and surrender. Though they were partners in every way, Jamie had given Daddy the lead, trusting him completely, and Daddy took that responsibility seriously. He didn’t need to raise his voice. A single look, a quiet word, always landed where it mattered.

‘Jamie.’

Jamie’s hand paused on the train. He stayed facing forward, dummy still in.

‘I thought we talked about getting out of the crib on your own.’

The words weren’t angry. Daddy never raised his voice unless he had to. But they carried weight. That gentle disappointment that always made Jamie’s stomach flutter.

Daddy stepped into the room and crouched beside him, his hand coming to rest warm and steady on Jamie’s shoulder.

‘You know that’s not safe,’ he said, quieter now. ‘You promised you’d wait for Daddy in the mornings. And this is the third time this week.’

Jamie squirmed slightly. He didn’t speak, just made a faint sound around the dummy and pushed the train a little further up the track. Billy remained tight in his arm.

Daddy stayed close, kneeling behind him, hands warm and calm.

‘I’m not angry, sweetheart. But I am disappointed. You know how important it is that Daddy’s there to get you up safely. That’s our rule.’

Jamie nodded faintly, the glow of his cheeks deepening. Not from embarrassment. From that odd, twisty feeling that came when he’d done something he knew he shouldn’t, and Daddy had noticed.

Then, just like always, Daddy softened.

He leaned in and kissed the top of Jamie’s head, letting his fingers trail gently through Jamie’s hair.

‘I do understand why you were excited, though,’ he said, glancing to the window. ‘It really is snowing. Real snow. Look at that.’

Jamie turned just a little, eyes drifting toward the glass. The world outside was still blanketed in white. The street beyond was untouched, as if it belonged to another time.

‘I know how rare that is,’ Daddy murmured. ‘It’s the good kind, too, the kind that stays. We might even build a snowman later. Or go on a proper walk.’

Jamie’s eyes lit up behind his dummy. The train paused mid-turn.

Daddy smiled. ‘But we’re going to do things properly. And that means waiting for Daddy in the mornings. Understood?’

Jamie gave a small nod. Daddy pulled him gently into a cuddle, wrapping one arm around his chest and tucking him back against his body.

‘You’re such a good boy,’ he whispered. ‘Even when you forget. And I’ve got something else to tell you.’

Jamie blinked slowly and turned his head slightly toward Daddy’s voice.

‘A surprise,’ Daddy said, voice low and secretive. ‘One just for us.’

Jamie’s dummy dipped slightly. He didn’t ask anything yet, just watched him, wide-eyed, waiting.

‘We’re going away for Christmas.’

Jamie’s body stilled in Daddy’s lap.

‘Just the two of us,’ Daddy continued. ‘Somewhere cold and quiet. Properly snowy. But warm inside. Cosy. I’ve arranged everything, spoken to work, packed your things, taken care of your routine. You don’t need to think about anything. Just be my baby.’

Jamie’s voice came out faintly. ‘Where are we going?’

Daddy kissed his hair again.

‘That part’s a surprise.’

Jamie turned fully now, looking down at Billy, then back at Daddy.

‘Do I need to pack?’

‘No, cub. Daddy’s already done it.’

‘Can I bring Billy?’

‘Of course you can. Billy, and Lion, and your trains. Everything you need. You’ll have bottles, stories, baths, fresh nappies, and snow outside your window.’

Jamie breathed in slowly, then melted into Daddy’s arms, the weight of the world already falling away.

The snow didn’t last.

By Monday afternoon, the magical white blanket that had transformed their quiet southern village had already started to melt. The rooftops turned slick with slush, and the hedgerows peeked out again from beneath their fleeting frosting. By Tuesday, there were only patchy reminders, grey streaks clinging to shaded verges, the remains of tiny snowmen drooping on garden walls.

Jamie tried not to feel disappointed. He’d always known it wouldn’t stay. Real snow never lasted down here, not for long.

But still, for those couple of days, the world had felt enchanted. And more importantly, it had arrived just as Daddy made his big announcement, the surprise that changed the tone of the entire week.

They were going away for Christmas.

Somewhere snowy. Somewhere quiet.

Jamie didn’t know where. He wasn’t allowed to. Daddy had made it clear: this wasn’t his job. He didn’t have to pack or plan or worry. All he had to do was play.

And that’s what he tried to do, as the snow melted, as the days ticked forward, filling his time with toys and trains and the quiet thrill of waiting.

By Wednesday, the house had begun to shift. Quiet signs at first: Daddy’s lists on the fridge, the faint thud of bags being moved in the hallway, the soft beep of the car boot closing just before bedtime. Jamie caught glimpses of his clothes disappearing from drawers. He wasn’t told what was being packed. That was Daddy’s job. His only responsibility was to stay soft. Stay present. Stay little.

And he did. Mostly.

Still, there were moments, tiny flashes, when Jamie’s tummy fluttered. Not in the good way.

He’d find himself staring too long at the hallway mirror, or pressing his ear to the guest room door when Daddy went inside to sort things. Once, he caught himself reaching for his phone before quickly pushing it away, like a guilty reflex. Just for a second, he had that old feeling, the one he’d spent years trying to quiet.

The feeling that he shouldn’t be this way.

It always came quietly, like a cold draught under the door. A voice that wasn’t quite his but had lived inside him for too long. A voice from the past, from family gatherings where he didn’t quite fit, from old partners who hadn’t understood, from awkward silences when he tried to explain that he didn’t want to be the man. That he just wanted to be held.

There had been years of it. Years of confusion. Of trying to make himself smaller, straighter, simpler. Of pretending his softest needs were just “phases.” He’d gone to dinner parties and job interviews and therapy appointments, all while quietly aching for someone to tuck him into bed and remind him he was allowed to be cared for.

And then came Daddy.

He hadn’t arrived with a script or rules. Just presence. Safety. The kind of love that didn’t try to fix Jamie, only hold him where he was. They were partners, yes. Two grown men in a grown-up world. But they had chosen something else, too. Something gentler. Something real.

And that week, as the bags were packed and the routine was loosened, Jamie leaned deeper into it.

By Friday morning, the village looked like itself again, damp pavement, grey skies, a drizzle misting the hedges along the green. But inside their little terraced house tucked between the bakery and the bookshop, the air still sparkled.

The final day of work had its own kind of magic.

Jamie sat at the kitchen table in his comfiest jumper and thickest joggers, legs swinging under the chair, a steaming mug of peppermint tea between his hands. His laptop was open, spreadsheets, curriculum notes, the last of the email threads blinking in his inbox.

He worked as a researcher for an educational publishing company, writing background materials, checking references, building content that helped make learning clearer. He didn’t talk about it much when he was in little space. But he was good at it. Quiet. Diligent. Neat.

And today, he could barely concentrate.

Because today was the last day before Christmas leave.

And tomorrow… they were going.

His tummy fluttered again, but this time it was all the good kind.

He glanced up to see Daddy standing by the counter, arms folded, watching him with that look. The one that was half affection, half quiet pride.

‘That the last one?’ Daddy asked.

Jamie nodded. ‘All done. Out of office is on. Everything’s filed.’

‘Good boy,’ Daddy murmured, crossing the room. He leaned down behind Jamie’s chair and wrapped his arms around his chest, voice low in his ear. ‘Now you can stop pretending to be big.’

Jamie gave a soft, bashful sound, not quite a whimper, but close, and melted into the embrace.

Daddy kissed the top of his head, then gently reached around to close the laptop.

‘No more work now. Just Christmas.’

The rest of the afternoon passed like a soft exhale.

Jamie changed out of his grown-up clothes and into something Daddy had laid out: a pale blue onesie with a sleepy bear on the chest and a fresh nappy thick enough to remind him he didn’t need to think anymore. Daddy had taken care of everything. He always did.

While Daddy busied himself with last-minute details, Jamie lay on his play mat in the front room, pushing toy cars around the rug, humming to himself as he made little whooshing noises. The lights on the Christmas tree blinked in time with the soft instrumental carols playing through the speaker.

Every so often, he caught sight of Daddy moving in the hallway, ticking off a list, checking the front door, slipping a soft blanket into the boot of the car.

It was all happening.

They were leaving at dawn.

That evening, Daddy made a fuss, the good kind. The kind that always made Jamie feel fluttery and safe.

Dinner was soft and simple, served on Jamie’s special reindeer plate: mashed potatoes, tiny turkey bites, and peas with a drizzle of gravy. A plastic fork. A bib tied under his chin. Juice in his sippy cup.

Daddy fed him half the bites and let Jamie try the rest, praising him with every chew.

‘Such a good little eater,’ he said. ‘That’s my sweet boy.’

After dinner, Daddy ran a bath with bubbles and lavender oil. He washed Jamie’s hair and helped him out with gentle hands, drying every part with a towel that had little bears on the corners. Then he powdered him, padded him, and zipped him into his thickest Christmas sleeper, the red one with jingle bells hidden in the soles.

Together, they curled up on the sofa under a blanket, the TV glowing with a crackling fire and a slow playlist of carols. The world outside was dark now, the drizzle turned to mist, the village already closed for the holidays.

Jamie lay with his head on Daddy’s chest, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breathing.

‘Can we really go tomorrow?’ he mumbled softly.

Daddy tightened his arm around him.

‘We can. The car’s packed. Your bag’s zipped. You’re all ready.’

Jamie smiled behind his dummy.

‘You’re going to wake up,’ Daddy whispered, ‘and I’m going to dress you thick and warm, and carry you to the car before the sun comes up. Then after a long drive and a cuddle or two… you’ll open your eyes, and we’ll be somewhere new. Somewhere magical.’

Jamie’s eyes fluttered shut.

He didn’t ask where.

He didn’t need to.

Because Daddy had packed everything.

Even the magic.

Step fully into the magic, get the complete Perfect Christmas story today -

Perfect Christmas eBook : Ganymede, Baby: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

[adultbabystories]

Figure Something Out

“Sit,” your father said, as he pulled a chair out from under the dining table, “you wanted to talk earlier”.

That morning, you asked if you two could talk, but he said whatever it is, it can be after he changes your night diaper into a fresh one. You didn’t dare to argue and just waited for your change. It’s been two months since you came back home, and a couple of weeks since he started diapering you.

You sat nervously and considered your words.

“Dad?” you said.

“Daddy,” he corrected you.

“Yeah, Daddy, well…”

“Speak boy, I don't have all day,” he raised his voice a bit.

“I’m sorry if I’m being blunt, but I need to get out at night again,” you said determinedly. 

“Why?” he asked in a tiresome fashion.

“Because”

“Listen boy I took you back in at your age, and I’m helping you to get up on your feet. Just say what you have to say!”

“Because I need to have sex! I’m so horny and I can’t anymore! I need to find someone and have sex!”

You stood up, angry at the situation. Finally, you let it out. You are a grown man, you have your needs. And your father is keeping you home, having a bedtime. Instead of getting dressed to go out at night, he diapers you and sends you to bed.

“Please Dad!”

“It’s Daddy, and if you’ll call me dad on the third time, you’ll be back on my lap, now sit,” he commanded you calmly.

You sat back down.

“I took you back after all that mess that you caused. You lost your job and your apartment. I took you back in with one condition, to let me raise you back into adulthood, into manhood. After one week, you came back at night, drunk, and pissing your bed. Then I knew the starting point would be very early. The diapers were a good thing, grounding you to reality. The reality of the fact that you need my guiding hand. You need me to diaper you, you need me to send you to bed, you need your daddy, and now you need me to say no to your request. No, you will not go out to find sex.”

“But Daddy!”

“Begging won’t help. You are still not ready. Maybe you got too comfortable, but have you noticed you wet yourself not only at night, but also during the day? Would you go out diapered looking for sex?” he asked, waiting for your answer.

“I need to wean you off it, I need to potty train you. But it won’t happen anytime soon,” he continued. “Why?” he whined.

“I saw you sucking your thumb the other day,” he smirked.

Your face flushed red. You were so embarrassed.

“You got me these baby printed diapers, and I,” you mumbled, “and I was just playing around from boredom, going back to bed that early”.

Your father got up from his chair and stood behind you, putting his hand over your shoulder.

“My boy, there is nothing to be ashamed of. That’s okay, you are learning your new place at my house. You are just a little boy. But I’ll make you a strong man one day. But until that day comes, just enjoy being daddy’s little boy.”

You felt a little less ashamed.

“I tell you what, I’ll figure something out. Maybe you act like a little boy, but your body is that of a man with needs. I’ll figure something out,” he said and signed you to get up.

A week later, you got home from the grocery store, and your father was waiting on his couch. It was in the afternoon, your diaper was a little wet, and you needed your nap.

“Go to your room and see what I got for you, boy,” he said.

You went into your room and saw on your bed a big, almost huge, teddy bear. He had brown fur, and to your touch, he felt soft but also a little firmer than you would imagine. You came back to the living room.

“Thanks, Daddy, but what is the teddy bear for?” you asked.

“Remember our chat from last week? Go ahead, go take your nap on him. I’ll change your diaper after you wake up. Lay on top of him, I bet he feels comfortable sleeping on” he winked.

“Okay…”

You went into your room, took off your clothes, and stayed in your diaper. Got into the bed and lay on your new giant teddy bear. The room was dim, and it felt so nice to have a nap, and the bear, the bear felt… firm.

From the other room, your father heard sounds from the baby monitor he installed not too long ago in your room.

It started with plastic diaper crinkles, then fast breathing, and finally something that sounds like a soft moan.

After five minutes, he went to check up on you. Slowly, he widened the door crack, seeing you, a grown man, his boy, lying on top of the teddy bear, with a swollen diaper, sucking on his thumb.

He smiled and left, letting you have your long-awaited, awarded nap.

[daddyblazed]

[mainlyabdlboys-deactivated20260]

The Collapse

The clang of hammers and the roar of machinery were the usual symphony of my days. As foreman, I prided myself on keeping that orchestra in tune, every man knowing his part, every piece of equipment humming its designated note. But then, a new sound ripped through the familiar cacophony – a sickening groan of metal, followed by a thunderous crash that vibrated through the soles of my boots.

My head whipped around towards the east wing, where we were working on the third story. Dust billowed, thick and choking, obscuring everything. My heart leaped into my throat. Adam. Adam was up there. My youngest, barely twenty, but quick as a whip and eager to learn. He was also, I’ll admit, my favourite. Always had a grin, always double-checked his knots, always asked the right questions.

“ADAM!!!” I yelled, but my voice was swallowed by the settling debris.

I didn’t wait for a response, didn’t wait for anyone else. I was already running, a primal urgency propelling me forward. The other men were shouting, scrambling, but my focus narrowed to the mangled heap of metal and wood where Adam had been working. It looked like a giant had thrown down a puzzle box, and Adam was somewhere inside.

The dust stung my eyes, and the smell of pulverized concrete filled my lungs. I reached the edge of the collapse, the twisted rebar like broken teeth. “Adam!” I shouted again, my voice raw.

A faint groan, barely audible over my own ragged breathing, answered me. It was coming from beneath a twisted metal beam. My hands, usually steady, trembled as I began to pull at the lighter debris, tossing aside planks and scattered tools. Each small victory felt like a triumph against an overwhelming enemy. The silence that followed each piece I moved was deafening, amplifying my fear. Was he breathing? Was it too late?

Finally, I could see him. His hard hat lay a few feet away, the strap broken. His face was pale, streaked with grime, his eyes fluttering open, unfocused. He was pinned, his leg trapped beneath the heavy beam.

“Adam, can you hear me?” I asked, my voice shaking despite my best efforts.

He mumbled something I couldn’t decipher, a low, pained sound. His eyes rolled back, and for a terrifying second, I thought he was gone. But then, a shallow breath. He was still with me. The enormity of what had happened, the sheer luck that he was even alive, settled on me with crushing weight. Now, the real work began. I had to get him out. And the silence, punctuated only by Adam’s shallow breaths and my own pounding heart, stretched into an unbearable eternity.

________

They wouldn't let me ride in the ambulance at first, but I stood my ground, my foreman’s bark back in full force, even as my knees threatened to buckle. "He's my responsibility! I'm going with him!" They must've seen the wild desperation in my eyes, because they relented. I sat beside him, holding his hand, feeling the fragile thrum of his pulse, praying to a God I hadn’t spoken to in years.

The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and lingering dread. It felt like hours, before a doctor, a tall man with kind, tired blue eyes and an easy smile, approached me. Dr. York.

"Mr. Collins? Adam's stable. He's had a severe spinal injury. We've done what we can, but… there’s significant damage." He paused, choosing his words with care. "He’ll have severely reduced mobility. He won’t be too hot on his feet for a while so he’s going to need a wheelchair if he’s going more than a couple of steps. There’s also some severe nerve damage and bladder trauma. Poor kid’s going to need diapers for the seeable future.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. Adam. Active, quick, always ready with a joke or a helping hand. Diapers? My gut twisted.

"After he’s discharged," Dr. York continued, "With no immediate family, Social Services will find a place for him. A care facility, where he can get the specialized support he needs. Now…”

Before the man even finished the sentence, the words were out of my mouth, firm, undeniable. "…He can live with me."

Dr. York blinked. "Mr. Collins, this is a significant undertaking. It’s not just helping him up and down the stairs. Adam will need round-the-clock assistance. Medication, physio appointments, incontinence management, hygiene care… It's a full-time job."

"I know," I said, my voice steady, though my hands were clenched into fists. "He doesn't have anyone else. He works for me. He’s… like family." More than like family. Adam had filled a space in my life I hadn't even realized was empty since my wife, Sarah, passed. He was just a kid when he started, eager to learn, short for his age but with the spirit of a giant. He grew into a man under my wing, and now… now he needed me. "It’s the right thing to do."

Dr. York studied me for a long moment, a gentle, almost knowing look in his eyes. He must have seen the determination, the resolve that had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with love. "Very well, Mr. Collins. We’ll help you arrange everything."

Months later, the crisp air of early spring was a stark contrast to the inside of my home. My small, sturdy bungalow, once a quiet haven for a solitary widower, was now a constant hum of activity, an echo of life and the unceasing demands of care. I was Adam’s full-time caregiver. My calloused hands, used to wielding tools and hefting lumber, now expertly managed a young man whose spirit remained unbroken, even as his body failed him.

It was hard. God, it was hard. There were days I’d wonder if I’d made a mistake, if I was truly equipped for this. But then I’d look at Adam, his short frame almost swallowed by his wheelchair, his eyes still holding that spark, that vibrant youth, and I knew. No mistake.

——-

The air in the garden center was thick with the smell of damp earth and blooming petunias. It was miles away from the smell of diesel and cut lumber that usually coated my clothes, and I liked it. It felt clean, settled.

I pushed Adam’s chair over the smooth concrete path, the wheels humming softly. He was leaning forward, his hands resting lightly on the rims, even though I was doing all the work. It was a habit now—the pretense of independence, even when he needed help just to stay still.

We were looking at the succulents. Adam loved their stubborn, self-sufficient nature.

“That one there, Henry,” he murmured, pointing to a fuzzy, grey-green specimen. “Looks like it doesn’t need anything from anyone.”

“Like you used to be, eh?” I grinned, ruffling the back of his hair, which was too fine and clean these days. Back when he worked for me on the scaffolding crew, he was tough, scrappy, and covered in mud. The kid had been a hell of a worker since he was seventeen, and my best hand.

A couple came around the corner of the display, arguing softly about mulch. They stopped short when they saw us.

I tried not to look, but Adam was sensitive to the staring. He shrank a little, pulling his chin into the collar of his hoodie.

The woman’s argument died in her throat. She didn’t say anything to us, but she leaned in toward her husband and dropped her voice, though not quite enough for the words to be swallowed by the sound of the greenhouse watering system.

“Poor thing. Such a shame, a young man like that. What a burden for the big fella.”

The words hit me like a kick in the chest. I felt my jaw tighten. I’m a foreman; I’m used to managing crises and barking orders. But I couldn’t bark at this stranger. All I could do was shove the wheelchair forward, fast, before Adam could hear the rest.

But Adam always heard the rest.

He didn't look up until we reached the outdoor section, where the ornamental grasses swayed in the breeze.

“I heard her,” he said, his voice flat.

“Nonsense, Adam. She was talking about her husband and that ridiculous bag of scented bark chips.”

“No, Henry. She said ‘burden.’ And she was looking at you.”

I stopped the chair and crouched down, bringing my face level with his. The sun was warm on my back.

“Listen to me, kid. You are nothing but a good thing in my life. You understand? You worry about those ridiculous spiky plants. I’ll worry about the ridiculous people.”

He gave me a weak smile, but the stress lines around his mouth didn’t fade. I knew this was why he often refused to go out anymore, staying tucked away in the back bedroom of my small house. He had lost his physical strength and his anonymity in one crushing moment, and the weight of being watched was heavier than the collapsed scaffolding ever was.

“Right,” I said, straightening up. “I need coffee. And you look like you need a massive slice of something chocolate and terrible for you. Let’s hit the café.”

Manoeuvring a wheelchair through the tight aisles of a busy garden center café is a lesson in humility, mostly for the people who refuse to move their designer shopping bags. But I got us a table tucked away by the window, near a massive potted fern, and ordered two large lattes and a slice of Black Forest gateau that could feed an entire crew.

Adam picked at the whipped cream with his spoon, his energy drained by the earlier encounter.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly blurted out.

“For what? Ordering the coffee?”

“For all of this. For making you… chase me around a tea room on a Saturday afternoon instead of going fishing or doing whatever normal men your age do.”

I pushed the plate of cake closer to him. “Adam, when my Sarah passed, I felt like the bottom had dropped out of the world. The house was empty. My job was just a way to fill ten hours a day until I could go back to the empty house. Loneliness is a big weight to carry, kid. It’s a bigger construction job than any skyscraper I’ve ever worked on.”

I took a long drink of the bitter coffee, letting the heat settle in my chest.

“Then the accident happened. And the doctors said you had no one. No immediate family to speak of. And I remembered the promise I made to myself—the one I made when I saw you lying in the dirt, under the rubble of that ridiculous frame, waiting for the paramedics. I promised I’d fix it, somehow.”

Adam looked up, his eyes wide and earnest. “But you didn't have to take me in, Henry. You don't owe me.”

“Do I look like a man who does things out of obligation?” I scoffed. “I took you in because I wanted to. You’re family, Adam. You’ve been mine since you were seventeen and too small to lift a drywall sheet, but you insisted you could. And now, you’re just… slower, Adam. And you need a little more help. That’s all. I don’t mind the looking after. It means you’re here.”

I paused, leaning forward until the coffee steam rose between us.

“Besides,” I added, keeping my voice firm, “When has Forman ever cared what his crew thinks?”

A small, genuine laugh escaped him. It was a good sound, rusty but true. He finally picked up his fork, the tension easing out of his shoulders.

“Okay,” he whispered, taking a bite of the cake. “Okay, Henry.”

Getting Adam in and out of the Ford pick-up required a specialized kind of lift and carry that muscle memory had made automatic. I secured the chair in the bed of the truck, then moved around to the passenger side.

“Right, up we go,” I said, bending down.

Adam wrapped his arms around my neck. He was light, deceptively so. I always carried him close, balancing his weight easily against my rugged frame. I’ve lifted sacks of cement heavier than him. Yet, the task was intimate—a necessary closeness that acknowledged his vulnerability but never dwelled on it.

Back home, the afternoon sun streamed into the living room, making the motes of dust dance. Adam settled onto the sofa with a groan of relief.

“I think I need a nap, Henry.”

“I think you need a change, first, kid,” I replied gently. I could tell by the way he was shifting, trying to hide the discomfort. It was still the hardest part for him, this loss of basic control. The nerve damage was fickle—some days he could walk short distances using canes, other days the shock and exhaustion hit him hard, demanding the chair and the dignity-stripping reliance on the diaper.

He flushed crimson, pulling his hands into his sleeves. “Not now, Henry. I’ll make it until dinner.”

“No, you won’t. And we’re not going to let a simple thing turn into a sore. Come on. Up.”

There was no negotiation, just practical necessity. I hated that he felt ashamed. I hated that the accident had stolen this, too.

I carried him down the short hall to the bathroom. The setup was minimal but efficient—grab bars, a sturdy bench.

“I can do the rest,” Adam insisted, trying to pull away.

“No, you can’t, not when you’re this tired. Stop fighting me. This is just maintenance, Adam. Like oiling the hinges on a door. Nothing more.”

I kept my voice low and steady, focused entirely on the task, ensuring my expression was clinical and reassuring. I helped him out of his trousers and carefully, professionally, managed the change. The silence in the small room was thick with unspoken trust. There was no shame in my touch, only careful concern.

When I was done fastening the tapes, I helped him into a fresh pair of sweatpants. He didn’t meet my eyes, but as I lifted him again, the diaper crinkled loudly, he leaned his head against my shoulder for a long moment.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into my shirt.

“Always,” I said, carrying him back out.

I deposited him back on the couch, where I had draped an old, soft wool blanket. I retrieved his book and the remote control for him, stacking pillows strategically behind his head.

“Just relax, kid. I’m going to clean up then sort out some dinner. Don’t move.”

It took fifteen minutes to clean the bathroom and dispose of the evidence of his need. By the time I returned to the living room, the late afternoon light was bathing the room in gold, and Adam was already fast asleep, his head tilted awkwardly against the armrest, his breathing soft and even. He looked utterly exhausted, the deep lines of worry smoothed away in sleep.

I stood over him, watching. He was mine now. My responsibility, my project, my unlikely family. I had never had children; Sarah and I hadn’t been blessed that way. But caring for Adam—seeing him thrive, however slowly—filled a canyon in my soul I hadn’t known existed until the accident brought him back into my life this way. I wouldn’t trade this small, sleepy precious treasure for the world.

The stillness of the afternoon was suddenly interrupted by the shrill ring of my mobile phone, cutting across the peaceful silence. I snatched it up quickly, checking the caller ID: Nathan. Dr. York - we’re on first-name basis now. He’d made a point of keeping in touch, checking in on Adam, offering advice, or just lending an ear when I needed to vent. He’d become a surprising source of support, a lifeline in a sea of new and daunting challenges.

"Henry? Nathan here. Just checking in. How’s Adam doing after his big outing today?" His voice was warm, friendly.

"He's good, Nathan. Worn out, but good. Picked out some lavender for the house."

"Ah, lovely. Good for the soul, a bit of nature." There was a brief pause, then he continued, "Look, I was actually calling with an invitation. My husband, James, and I are having a barbecue this Saturday. Nothing fancy, just us and some good food. We'd love for you and Adam to come."

I hesitated. Social outings were still a hurdle. Adam was self-conscious, and frankly, so was I sometimes. It was easier to cocoon ourselves here. "That's… that's very kind, Nathan. But I don't know if Adam's up for it."

"No arguments, Henry," Nathan said, a hint of playful authority in his tone. "I insist. And there's a specific reason I want Adam to come. Our son, Jake, he’s 23. He’ll be there. And… well, Jake also wears diapers."

The word hung in the air for a moment. Jake. I remembered Nathan mentioning an adopted son, but never the details.

"Jake's been through a lot," Nathan continued, his voice softening. "It’s been a long road for him too. But he’s a wonderful kid, and I think it would do Adam a world of good to meet someone who understands what he’s going through. To know he’s not alone."

My chest tightened. It was true. Adam kept so much inside, his shame a constant companion. To meet someone who truly got it… This could be massive for him. For both of them.

"Thank you, Nathan," I said, my voice hoarse. "That… that means a lot. We’ll be there."

"Excellent!" Nathan's relief was palpable. "We’re really looking forward to it. Hopefully the boys will get along and we can drink that IPA I’ve ordered. It’ll be nice for us dads to catch up.”

I paused, a strange mix of warmth and resistance swirling inside me. "You know I’m not his dad, Nathan." I said it almost automatically, a reflex. Because I wasn't. Not legally, not biologically.

Nathan chuckled softly, a knowing sound. "Henry," he said, and there was no doubt, no room for argument in his tone, "You are in every way that matters. I’ll text you the details. Saturday, 2 o’clock?”

I stood there, the phone warm against my ear, listening to the dial tone after he hung up. The kitchen light felt brighter, the silence deeper. You are in every way that matters. A knot I hadn't realized was there began to loosen in my chest. Maybe he was right. Maybe the title didn't matter as much as the love, the care, the unwavering presence.

I looked towards Adam. He was in there, sleeping, dreaming of getting better. And I would be here, every step of the way. For Adam, for my son. I wiped down the counter, a small smile playing on my lips. Saturday. Beers, us dads. It sounded… just right. And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new, for all of us.

————

Author’s note:

Nathan’s story can be found here.

[babyganymede]

**New Chapters Released- Daddy’s Boy**

CHAPTER 22 - Marriage Preparation

Dylan woke to find himself still snuggled between both Daddy and Uncle George who were both fast asleep. Daddy had his hand on his nappy and Uncle George’s hand was on top of Daddy’s. This was the first time in ages that Dylan was awake before anyone else, and he was scared to move. However, he realised his tummy was uncomfortable. Usually by this time in the morning, his nappy was fully used but of course, he still had the plug in from last night, so his usual movements were restricted. The plug was large, as it had to be since his bottom had been stretched quite a bit, but it wasn’t painful.

Daddy woke to find Dylan wriggling beside him, his small movements betraying a discomfort that Michael immediately understood.

‘Come here, little guy,’ Michael whispered, pulling Dylan close. ‘I know what’s wrong. Someone needs to go poopy, don’t they?’ Dylan nodded, his eyes half-closed with a mix of sleepiness and concern. ‘Well, no rest for the wicked,’ Michael added with a gentle smile.

Slipping on some underwear and a T-shirt, Michael carefully picked Dylan up, leaving George still peacefully asleep, and carried him to the nursery. As he laid Dylan down on the changing mat, he began to speak in a calm, reassuring tone.

‘We’ve got a big day ahead of us, little one,’ he said, his hands working deftly to prepare Dylan for the morning. ‘We need to finalise everything before our wedding. I know I haven’t told you much about it, but the wedding is planned for tomorrow, Saturday the 15th of September.’ Dylan’s eyes widened in surprise, a small gasp escaping his lips as the reality of it sank in.

‘And the day after,’ Michael continued with a soft smile, ‘We’ll have our special commitment ceremony with Uncle George.’ Dylan took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of information. It was all happening so soon, and he realised that without a sense of time, the days had crept up on him unnoticed.

As Michael continued to change Dylan, his voice remained steady, as if discussing these life-altering events were the most natural thing in the world. ‘Don’t worry, baby,’ he said, ‘I sent the invites out weeks ago, and everything is already arranged. We just have some final fittings to do today and a few special items to pick up.’

Michael finished cleaning Dylan, then paused for a moment. ‘Brace yourself,’ he warned gently before removing the very large plug with a soft pop, followed by a mess that Dylan had been holding in. ‘That was quite the plug I put in you,’ Michael chuckled, and Dylan couldn’t help but smile despite the situation.

With practiced ease, Michael cleaned up Dylan’s nappy and gently fastened a thick overnight one around him, leaving his boy in just a soft babyish T-shirt. But instead of setting him down straight away, he scooped Dylan up into his arms and rocked him slowly, holding him close as he kissed his forehead with deep, unwavering love.

When he finally carried Dylan downstairs, the playpen was ready, and Michael gently placed him inside with Billy and a handful of soft toys. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Despite the busy day ahead, Michael moved calmly and purposefully, ensuring Dylan felt safe, cherished, and settled.

While Dylan played, Michael tidied up the kitchen and got breakfast started. Soon, George appeared and greeted Michael with a warm kiss before heading straight to the playpen.

‘And how’s my little man this morning?’ he cooed, lifting Dylan high into the air and spinning him gently. Dylan giggled, his dummy bouncing between his lips as he clung to George.

Michael handed over a bottle, and George sat on the sofa with Dylan in his lap. ‘Big day ahead, sweetheart,’ he said as he fed him. ‘We’ve got your fittings today. And guess what? Uncle Simon’s going to look after you tonight, because it’s bad luck for Daddy to see you before the wedding.’

Dylan’s eyes widened. He coughed mid-sip, spilling milk down his T-shirt, and in the same moment, his nappy filled with a noisy mess, quickly followed by a heavy wetting. His cheeks flushed.

‘Oh baby, it’s alright. Just for one night,’ George reassured him, dabbing at the milk with the hem of Dylan’s shirt. ‘I know you haven’t spent a night without Daddy in ages, but you’ll still get to see him. He’ll video call you, promise.’

By late morning, Dylan was bathed and changed. George dressed him in a thick pride nappy, a dinosaur onesie, and bright red shortalls that showed the shape of his padding clearly. A little cap and rainbow-striped socks completed the look. ‘You’re the cutest boy in the world,’ George said, planting a kiss on Dylan’s nose.

Michael appeared in smart casuals and beamed at the sight of him. ‘I love it! You look perfect, baby.’ He took Dylan’s hand, guiding him to the car while George packed a little backpack with essentials.

After a short drive, they pulled up outside a discreet boutique with blacked-out rainbow windows. Dylan watched curiously as Michael opened the boot and revealed something unexpected, a large custom stroller, decorated in matching dinosaur prints.

‘Surprise,’ George grinned as he lifted Dylan into it and buckled him in. Michael added the backpack, clipped Billy to the side, and gave Dylan his dummy.

Inside the shop, Dylan’s eyes went wide. It was a nursery wonderland, adult-sized cribs, highchairs, racks of nappies, outfits in every pastel and print imaginable. There were soft toys, dummies, feeding chairs, and even playpens and bouncers big enough for him.

As they explored deeper, the tone of the items subtly shifted: latex clothing, restraint furniture, medical play stations, and elaborate changing tables built for more than hygiene. Dylan’s heart fluttered. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or curiosity, but the feelings were intense.

Michael leaned down, brushing Dylan’s hair. ‘There’s a lot to take in, baby. But don’t worry, everything today is about making you feel special.’

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out: ‘Dylan! There’s my little lad!’ James appeared with a grin, his eyes twinkling. ‘Michael, George. Susie’s napping, so this little rascal is mine for a bit.’

‘We’ve got his suits ready, and your special ones too,’ James added. ‘Simon will pick everything up tomorrow.’

Michael crouched beside Dylan. ‘I want your outfits to fit perfectly, baby. Can you try them on for Uncle James while we go run errands?’

Dylan hesitated, then nodded.

Michael and George kissed Dylan. Goodbye gave him a friendly pat on his soggy nappy and left the shop.

James wheeled Dylan gently into a private changing suite tucked away at the back of the shop. The room was softly lit, with warm-toned walls and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on three sides, designed to help littles see themselves from every angle. It felt private and cosy, a space where Dylan could feel safe.

‘Right then, little man,’ James said warmly as he unbuckled Dylan from the stroller. ‘Let’s get started with your wedding suit, shall we? This is the outfit all your grown-up guests will see, so we want you looking like the perfect little gentleman for Daddy.’

He helped Dylan to his feet and slowly removed the red shortalls and dinosaur onesie, folding them neatly and placing them aside. Dylan stood in just his pride nappy and rainbow socks, sucking softly on his dummy as he looked around the mirrors, catching sight of his saggy padding from every angle made him blush.

James unzipped the first suit bag and carefully laid out the wedding outfit piece by piece. ‘Here we go… your formal look for the legal ceremony.’

First came the shirt, or more accurately, a custom onesie styled like a crisp, tailored dress shirt. Made from pristine white cotton, it had smart buttons down the front, neat cuffs, and even tiny embroidered initials near the collar. James helped Dylan step into it, gently pulling it up and snapping the crotch fastenings over his thick nappy. ‘There we go, looks just like a proper shirt, but no chance of it riding up on you, baby.’

Next, he added a soft tartan bowtie in shades of navy and blue. Dylan’s eyes lit up a little as James adjusted it under his chin.

The trousers were a gentle blue, smartly cut to accommodate Dylan’s nappy but without drawing too much attention. As James buttoned them at the waist, he reassured, ‘See? No bulging. You look grown-up, but Daddy’s little secret is safely tucked away.’

Then came the jacket, light blue with elegant lapels and a silky lining. But when Dylan saw the inside, he gasped: the entire inner lining was covered in a print of Thomas the Tank Engine, discreet but full of personality.

‘It’s just for you and Daddy to know about,’ James said softly. ‘And look—’ He pointed to a tiny hidden pocket, stitched over Dylan’s heart. ‘That’s for your dummy, so even when you’re being a big boy, your little side is still right there.’

James slipped the jacket onto Dylan and helped him into polished brown shoes and matching socks with soft blue stripes. When he stepped back, he smiled proudly. ‘Okay, my little gentleman. Have a look in the mirror.’

Dylan turned slowly, surrounded by mirrors on every side. He looked down at his smart trousers, then at the jacket’s sheen. His dummy bobbed softly as he stared, wide-eyed. He looked elegant. Almost adult. But that little pocket over his heart, the secret Thomas lining, and the quiet crinkle between his legs reminded him who he really was.

‘I look like… me,’ he said softly, turning again. ‘And Daddy’s going to love it, isn’t he?’

‘He’s going to cry when he sees you,’ James whispered, brushing Dylan’s hair aside. ‘You’re beautiful.’

James helped him carefully out of the suit and hung everything back up on the padded rail. Then he turned to Dylan with a smile. ‘Now… time for the really fun one.’

He opened the second garment bag with a theatrical flourish, revealing the commitment ceremony outfit, and it was a vision of pure toddler sweetness.

‘This is for your private ceremony,’ James explained. ‘This is the one just for Daddy, Daddy George, and our family the one that really shows who you are.’

First came the ivory baby shirt, soft as a whisper, with pale blue piping on the Peter Pan collar and little puffed sleeves. It buttoned up the back, and James guided Dylan’s arms through with loving care before fastening it securely. The shirt was designed to be tucked into shortalls and buttoned to them at the waistband, just like a real toddler’s outfit.

The shortalls were sky-blue corduroy, short in the leg to show off his nappy, with adorable embroidered ducklings and lambs stitched on the bib. Thick elastic gathered the waistband, keeping everything snug and babyish. James snapped the shirt into the shortalls with four visible buttons across the tummy, not to hide the outfit’s childishness, but to proudly display it.

‘Hold still, sweetheart,’ James said as he gently knelt and helped Dylan into the next layer, frilly white ankle socks with delicate lace trim, then classic white toddler sandals with buckle straps that gleamed under the soft lighting.

James added one final touch: he attached a dummy clip to his shirt, in the extra large bright blue dummy, which matched his shortalls. ‘And now… let’s see our precious little prince.’

Dylan stood in front of the mirror, breath catching as he took in the image before him, his reflection was the very picture of babyish innocence. The soft ivory shirt with its pale blue piping, the puffed sleeves, the sky-blue corduroy shortalls buttoned neatly across his tummy, the white frilly socks peeking above classic leather sandals, and the thick, unmistakable bulge of his nappy beneath it all, this was how he saw himself inside.

James stood behind him, quietly watching. ‘You look… perfect,’ he said, voice thick with emotion. ‘Like the baby boy you were always meant to be.’

Dylan turned slightly and blushed as he caught a glimpse of himself from the side. Every little movement, bending, shifting, even sucking his dummy made the nappy peek through the leg holes. It was babyish, bold, and beautiful. He lowered his gaze shyly.

‘Thank you, Uncle James,’ he whispered. ‘I love it. I really, really do.’

James stepped forward and gently rested his hand on Dylan’s nappy, giving it a light pat. ‘You’ve made me so proud today. But we need to keep this special outfit perfect for your big day, we can’t risk any dribbles or wiggly accidents before then, can we?’

Dylan nodded, still gazing at his reflection as James knelt down and began to undress him. The sandals were removed first, then the frilly socks, followed by the shortalls and shirt. James folded each piece with great care and returned them to the protective garment bag, treating every item like a precious treasure.

Now standing in just his damp nappy, Dylan felt suddenly very small again, stripped of his special look. But James smiled, ruffling his hair. ‘Let’s get you back into your play outfit for now, sweetheart. Uncle Simon will be collecting you later, and you want to look just like you did when your daddies left you, don’t you?’

From the small changing station, James fetched Dylan’s original clothes: the pride nappy was still snug, so he simply added the soft dinosaur onesie, then came the rainbow-striped socks, which James tugged up gently to just below Dylan’s knees.

He reached for the red shortalls, guiding Dylan’s legs through and fastening the shoulder straps snugly. The fabric stretched slightly over the thick nappy beneath, creating a rounded seat that crinkled sweetly with every step. Finally, James clipped Dylan’s dummy to his onesie and tucked Billy under one arm.

‘There we go. Just how Daddy left you,’ James said with a warm smile.

Instead of guiding Dylan back to the stroller, James crouched down and offered his hand. Dylan took it instantly, the reassurance of the familiar grip helping to steady his waddling steps. The crinkle of his nappy was loud in the quiet shop, and he blushed, but only a little.

They walked slowly together through the shop, past racks of babyish onesies, shelves of pastel bottles, rows of plush rattles and dummies, and towering displays of oversized nappies. Every few steps, they passed full-length mirrors, and each time Dylan glanced at his reflection. His thickly padded bottom swayed beneath the snug shortalls, his rainbow socks bobbed just above his trainers, and his dummy bounced softly in his mouth.

And each time, he smiled just a little more, proud, content, and fully himself.

James led him gently into a softly lit alcove where plush animals lined the walls. Bunnies, bears, elephants, and tigers, each one fluffier than the last. It felt like stepping into a cloud.

‘Go on, sweetheart,’ James said with a nudge. ‘Pick whichever friend you want. You’ve earned it.’

Dylan clutched Billy tightly under one arm, scanning the shelves with wide eyes. He paused at a soft grey elephant and a spotted dog, but his gaze always circled back to the same place, to the cheerful orange stripes and wide, silly grin of a cuddly Tigger perched proudly on the middle shelf.

He looked up at James with hopeful eyes. ‘That one, please. Can Tigger come home with me?’

James smiled and reached up to lift the toy down with care. He handed it to Dylan gently. ‘Of course he can, baby. I think Billy’s been waiting for a bouncy brother.’

Dylan beamed, cradling both plushies close as his dummy bobbed happily. James looked down at the boy, standing proudly in his childish outfit, his cheeks flushed and glowing.

And as they turned back through the shop, hand in hand, the two plushies nestled in Dylan’s arms, they passed one last mirror. Dylan paused, turning slightly to take in his reflection: the thick red shortalls, the dinosaur print peeking through, the dummy clipped to his chest, and the sheer joy on his face.

For the first time, without the faintest flicker of embarrassment, Dylan looked at that little boy in the mirror and whispered through his dummy, ‘That’s really me.’

As they made their way back toward the front of the shop, James gave Dylan’s hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘Alright, little one. I’ve got one last job to do, I need to wake up my baby Susie from her nap.’

He led Dylan over to a softly padded playpen tucked into the cosy corner of the shop’s reception area. It was spacious and inviting, filled with soft blocks, rattles, board books, and a scattering of colourful toys. A plush blanket lay folded in one corner, and James gently spread it out before helping Dylan step inside.

‘There we go, sweetheart,’ James said as Dylan settled down with Billy and his brand-new Tigger. ‘You’ve been such a good boy today. I want you to relax now and play quietly while I go and get Susie up. She’ll be joining you soon, and I know she will be so excited to see you.’

Dylan nodded around his dummy, hugging both teddies close to his chest as he wriggled his nappy-bottom into a comfortable spot on the blanket. The soft crinkle as he moved only made him feel more at ease, safe, snug, and exactly where he was meant to be.

James leaned over the edge of the playpen and gently ruffled Dylan’s hair. ‘Back soon, baby. Don’t go bouncing away without me.’

With that, James turned and disappeared toward the back of the shop, leaving Dylan to explore his toys and wait, surrounded by the gentle hum of nursery music and the comforting scent of baby powder in the air.

Michael and George were deep into the final wedding errands, each task fuelling the quiet anticipation that had been building for weeks. They had just confirmed the flower arrangements and walked the grounds of the wedding venue, soaking in the reality of what was about to unfold. But their next stop was the one Michael had been looking forward to the most, the jeweller’s. It wasn’t just about rings; it was about the promises each one would carry.

Michael had commissioned four bespoke bands — each one a symbol, a vow, and a declaration of their love.

His own ring was a sleek band of platinum, cool and understated on the outside but pulsing with meaning within. Etched inside, in fine script, were the words:

“Dylan and George’s Husband, Lover, and Daddy Forever.”

It was more than a title. It was a role Michael had chosen with pride and purpose, a daily reminder that he belonged to both of them, not just in law or lust, but in heart and responsibility.

George’s ring, heavier in the hand, was forged from black brushed steel, strong, striking, dependable. Inside, the matching inscription read:

“Michael and Dylan’s Husband, Lover, and Daddy Forever.”

A mirror of Michael’s vow, but uniquely George, unshakable, grounded, devoted.

For Dylan, there were two rings, because he wore two hearts.

The first, for the formal wedding ceremony, was crafted from durable titanium, chosen not for glamour but for resilience. Inside, delicately engraved, were the words:

“Michael and George’s Baby Forever.”

Not a label, but a truth, one that wrapped around Dylan like a blanket of love and certainty.

The second ring, designed for the private commitment ceremony, was altogether different. James had helped Michael source the materials, a collection of Dylan’s old Lego bricks, melted and sanded smooth, their colours swirled into a marbled, multicoloured band. It wasn’t flawless, but it was magical. The inscription? Just one word:

“Baby.”

Childlike. Honest. Undeniably Dylan.

When they arrived at the jeweller’s and were shown the finished pieces, Michael felt his breath catch in his throat. Seeing all four rings lined up, each a promise made solid, was almost overwhelming. George stood beside him, blinking hard, his fingers brushing Michael’s in silent gratitude. They didn’t speak much in that moment. They didn’t need to.

After thanking the jeweller and tucking the velvet ring boxes securely into the inside pocket of Michael’s jacket, they made their way to their next stop: the tailor.

James had outdone himself. The suits were hanging, pressed and perfect, in the private fitting room. Both Michael and George had double-breasted morning coats in classic grey, with elegant light blue waistcoats beneath and soft pink ties that echoed the sweetness of their bond with Dylan. Matching top hats completed the ensemble, a nod to tradition, but with a glint of playful charm.

As they stepped into their suits, George turned toward the mirror and stilled.

‘It feels real now,’ he murmured, smoothing down the front of his jacket. ‘Doesn’t it?’

Michael, adjusting his cufflinks, looked over at George, his partner, his co-parent, the man who had never once let him fall. ‘It does,’ he said simply, but his voice was thick with emotion.

Then, with a mischievous grin, he stepped behind George and pinned him gently against the wall. ‘You look too good to be legal,’ he whispered against George’s ear. His hands wandered down, finding the rising heat beneath the tailored wool.

George chuckled, turning to kiss him, deep, slow, and aching with anticipation. ‘Later, Daddy,’ he teased, straightening his tie with mock discipline. ‘We’ve still got one night of bachelorhood left to enjoy.’

Reluctantly, they changed back into their regular clothes, the suits carefully zipped into garment bags and handed back to the tailor for final steaming. Outside, the evening air was beginning to cool, the sky softening into gold.

As they walked to the car, Michael glanced sideways. ‘I’m going to miss our boy tonight,’ he admitted, his voice quiet.

George reached for his hand. ‘I know. I will too.’ Then, after a pause, he added, ‘But it’s the last night we’ll be without him. After tomorrow, it’s forever.’

Michael looked up at the sky, then down at his pocket, where four small rings sat, not just symbols, but promises. And as he squeezed George’s hand and smiled, he knew one thing with absolute clarity.

Forever was exactly what he wanted.

Back at James’s store, Dylan and Susie were playing together on the soft mat in the nursery display area, surrounded by toys, plush animals, and the occasional crinkle of a shifting nappy. Susie, with her usual quiet confidence, was dressing her dollies and humming to herself, while Dylan, was now dressed just in his dinosaur-print onesie and clearly in need of a change, he was deeply absorbed in building a Lego castle, Billy perched loyally beside him.

Though their play styles were different, Susie was every inch the proud sissy baby, while Dylan’s world was filled with trains, blocks, and teddy bears, there was a quiet companionship between them. They had known each other through daycare for months now, and while Dylan didn’t always understand Susie’s love of pink frills and doll tea parties, he never judged her for it. She, in turn, never questioned his love for dinosaurs and cuddly adventures. They played comfortably side by side, in the way only true littles could.

The buzzer on the shop door sounded. James, from his perch behind the counter, pressed the release button. ‘Just customers,’ he said without looking up. Moments later, the bell chimed, and two young men stepped into the store.

Dylan’s posture immediately shifted. His body tensed slightly, and he ducked behind his bear. He wasn’t used to strangers seeing him like this, in a soaked nappy, no trousers, and clearly deep in little space. Susie, by contrast, glanced up briefly, gave a polite smile, and then went straight back to brushing her dolly’s hair as though nothing unusual had happened.

James, noticing Dylan’s sudden shyness, came around the counter and knelt down beside him. ‘You’re alright, little one,’ he said softly. ‘They’re just here to shop. This is a safe space, remember?’

The brunet who had entered first gave James a friendly nod. ‘We’re just looking for some new outfits,’ he said. His companion, a blond with spiky hair, hovered a little awkwardly behind, clearly unsure where to look.

‘Take your time,’ James replied warmly. ‘And don’t worry about the littles, Susie’s mine, and Dylan’s just spending the day with me while his daddies finish up some wedding errands.’

At the sound of his name, Dylan peeked out. The blond gasped, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

‘Oh my god, I know him! That’s Baby Dylan, from Ganymedehub. You’re the Dylan? With Daddy Michael?’ His voice was full of awe, not mockery.

Dylan blinked, startled. ‘Umm… yes?’ he replied quietly, unsure what to make of the attention.

I’m Dave,’ the blond said, crouching to his level, now clearly excited. ‘That’s my partner Steven. We’ve followed your journey for ages. You’re kind of a legend.’

James stepped in again with a smile. ‘Dylan’s here getting fitted for his wedding outfits today. Big weekend coming up.’

‘That’s so exciting,’ Dave said, eyes wide. ‘Congratulations!’ Then, glancing at Dylan’s very droopy nappy, he added with a chuckle, ‘Looks like you’re overdue for a change though, little guy.’

James laughed. ‘You’re not wrong. Actually, would you two like to help? Could be a nice way to break the ice.’

Dave looked thrilled. ‘Really? That’d be amazing.’

Steven nodded shyly, finally stepping closer. James motioned toward the aisle. ‘Go on, pick out a nappy for him. Something thick and comfy.’

As they wandered off, Dylan turned to James. ‘Uncle James… how do they know me?’

James smiled gently and handed Dylan a folded leaflet from the front counter. On the front was a stylised photo of Dylan with Michael and George, smiling, snuggled, sometimes playfully posed. ‘You know Daddy’s business, right? Ganymedehub?’

Dylan nodded slowly. He knew it existed but never paid it much attention.

‘Well, baby, you’ve become a star. People love your journey, your innocence, your little adventures with your daddies. You’re part of something really special, and you’re helping a lot of people feel seen and safe.’

Dylan stared at the leaflet. ‘I didn’t know I was famous…’

James ruffled his hair. ‘Why would you? You’re a baby. Your job is to play and be loved. Let Daddy handle the rest.’

Just then, Dave returned, grinning, holding a thick pink nappy with ruffles and tiny embroidered tiaras. ‘I thought this one would match Susie. You two look cute together.’

Susie looked up from her dolls and gave Dylan a wink. ‘Told you pink suits you, silly.’

Dylan flushed. ‘Only for today,’ he mumbled, but smiled all the same.

James laid down a clean mat and gently guided Dylan to lie back. As he untaped the sodden pride nappy, Dave and Steven watched with a kind of respectful curiosity, not mockery. Once Dylan was clean and powdered, James expertly taped up the pink nappy, its soft bulk crinkling under his touch.

‘All snug,’ he said, helping Dylan back into his dinosaur onesie. Once dressed, Dylan sat back down next to Susie, who immediately offered him a dolly to share.

‘You can be the daddy,’ she said, handing him a tiny pram.

Dylan hesitated, then giggled. ‘I could never be daddy, but I’ll still play.’

Meanwhile, Dave and Steven had finally finished their slow wander through the store, their arms full of treasures, frilly onesies, new dummies, a pack of thick nappies, and a rubber romper Steven had blushed furiously while holding.

James approached them at the counter with a knowing smile. ‘All set, boys?’

‘Absolutely,’ Dave grinned. ‘This place is incredible. I’ve followed Ganymedehub for a while but being here, seeing it all in person, it’s something else.’

Steven glanced over at Dylan, who was now happily chatting with Susie about what colours their next Lego tower should be. ‘He’s really something. You can tell how much love is around him.’

James nodded, his expression softening. ‘He is. And tomorrow, that little boy gets his fairytale.’

Dave leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice but unable to hide his excitement. ‘We’ll be watching the wedding stream. We’ve already got it bookmarked on the hub. Honestly, it means so much to see a little like him so deeply cared for. It’s more than just… you know… kink. It’s love.’

‘That’s exactly what it is,’ James replied warmly, handing over their bagged purchases.

Steven smiled shyly. ‘Tell Dylan we said congratulations, yeah?’

‘I will,’ James said. ‘He’ll be thrilled to know people are cheering for him.’

As the bell jingled overhead and the two men slipped out into the early evening light, James watched them go with a quiet satisfaction. He turned back to the nursery corner, where Dylan was sprawled comfortably on the play-mat between his plushies and his friend, totally unaware of the impact he’d made, not just on his family, but on a wider world that saw, in him, a reflection of something pure, playful, and utterly precious.

Tomorrow would be his day.

And the world would be watching.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, with Dylan and Susie playing peacefully together in the front of the shop. James kept a watchful eye on them both while tidying up the rails and checking the stock ahead of the big weekend. As the clock neared five, a soft buzz sounded from the front door, James pressed the release button without a second thought.

A moment later, Simon and Adam stepped inside. Simon, dressed smartly in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, gave a warm smile as he spotted Dylan in his dinosaur onesie and very soaked nappy, still cuddled up with Billy. Adam bounded over with excitement.

‘Hi Dylan!’ he grinned, waving a stuffed dog toy in greeting.

Dylan stood up slowly, clutching Billy and his new plush Tigger. His tummy fluttered with nerves. He hadn’t spent a night away from Daddy since the day they met, and now, with the wedding tomorrow, he was expected to stay somewhere else altogether.

Simon approached gently, crouching down to Dylan’s eye level. ‘Hey, little one. Are you ready for your sleepover?’

Dylan nodded hesitantly. ‘I think so… but do you think Daddy will be okay without me?’ he asked, his voice small and uncertain, his dummy bobbing slightly with each word.

There was a pause. Simon glanced over to James, who had joined them near the counter. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, they shared a knowing smile, one filled with affection, understanding, and the quiet truth they didn’t need to say aloud. Of course Michael wouldn’t be okay. He’d be pacing, missing Dylan every second. But neither of them would let the boy worry.

Simon gently tucked a lock of hair behind Dylan’s ear. ‘He’ll be just fine, baby. He misses you already, I’m sure, but he knows you’re safe with me, and he wants tomorrow to be perfect.’

‘He’ll be okay, sweetheart,’ James added, stepping forward to give Dylan a final cuddle. ‘This is just one night. And then, after tomorrow, you’ll all be together forever. He’s so proud of you, you know.’

Dylan sniffled and nodded again, reassured, even if the ache of separation still lingered. Simon took his hand and helped him into his coat.

‘Let’s say goodbye, then,’ Simon prompted kindly.

Dylan turned back, waving gently to James. ‘Bye, Uncle James. Thank you for the outfits.’

‘You’re more than welcome, little one. You looked perfect. Now go have a lovely evening and try to get some sleep, even with Adam around!’ James winked, and Dylan giggled faintly.

With that, they headed out to the car. Once Dylan was securely strapped into the backseat next to Adam, they drove off through the early evening glow, heading for Simon’s sleek, modern house.

As they walked through the front door, Dylan was surprised at how tidy and minimalist everything was, except, that is, for the playroom. When Simon led them inside, Dylan was met with a riot of toys and clutter.

‘Sorry about the mess,’ Simon said with a grin. ‘It’s impossible to keep this room tidy with Adam around.’

The two boys spent the evening happily lost in imaginative play. Simon returned later with baby bottles and a surprise treat, pizza in the playroom. Dylan relaxed a little, the fun helping to soften the ache of being away from Michael.

But as the clock struck nine, Simon clapped his hands. ‘Alright, boys, bedtime!’

Dylan was changed first, his very wet princess nappy swapped for a fresh, thick Tykables Galactic one and matching onesie. Then Simon lifted him into Adam’s oversized crib.

‘You’ll be sharing tonight, don’t worry. There’s plenty of room,’ Simon reassured him gently.

Adam was next. His changing was efficient, but ended with a surprise: a black chastity cage clicked firmly into place.

‘This is staying on until after the wedding,’ Simon said firmly.

‘But Daddy, that’s not fair!’ Adam protested.

‘You’ll earn your freedom if you behave,’ Simon replied, locking the cage. He then taped Adam into a black nappy, dressed him in rocket ship pyjamas, and added locking mittens for good measure.

‘Can’t have wandering hands around Dylan,’ he said with a raised eyebrow, eliciting a sigh from Adam.

Simon helped Adam into the crib and lowered the locking top, securing them both safely inside.

‘Night, boys,’ Simon said softly, switching on a gentle glow from the nightlight.

Dylan curled up, holding Billy and Tigger close, his tummy still fluttering but soothed by the warm safety of the blankets and the quiet hum of the nursery. He wasn’t used to this, sleeping away from Daddy, but he reminded himself it was just one night.

Beside him, Adam turned over. ‘Hey Dylan… do you think Star Wars is better than Harry Potter?’

Dylan groaned softly.

It was going to be a long night.

💛 Want to dive into the full story? You can grab Daddy’s Boy on Amazon right here:

Daddy’s Boy: Book 1 of the Forever Little Series eBook : Ganymede, Baby: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store