Pampered Pals: Part I

If you've read my blog for a while, or if you know me personally, you know that a large percentage of my friends have actually worn diapers.

Most of them at least once. Some over and over.

Some did it for curiosity's sake. They'd heard about my Huggies fetish, and they wanted to see what it was all about. 

Others did it because they figured I'd enjoy it, and they wanted to help me out. I've been surprised by a friend modeling a diaper more than once on my birthday. Seriously, it's a great present. And the mark of a good friend...

A few did it because they needed money. They knew I was willing to Pamper for pay, and they wanted to work their way into the rotation. "Why are you gonna pay some stranger off the Party Line when you can help me and I can help you?" Yep, I've heard that more than once.

One of my best friends, Craig, has done it for all of these reasons - and a few more.

(Not  Craig. Thanks, Cale, for the photos). 

Craig is actually a part of the story of how the rest of my friends found out about diapers. 

I was in college, and Craig and a few friends came to spend the weekend at the house I was renting at the time. It was on a lake, and we had a weekend of watersports planned - the clean, innocent kind, of course. 

At the time I was still in the closet, sexually and w/ re: to diapers, too. Very few people knew, and I hoped to keep it that way.

That weekend we spent a lot of time in and out of the lake. And a lot of time in and out of the cottage. Craig, Kevin, Jarrett, and Jerrod - and me - having a great time. 

At some point Jarrett, who had a habit of rifling through people's things and taking the best of their stuff for himself - decided to go exploring. So, while the rest of us spent time on the boat, Jarrett spent time inside the house, rifling through my stuff. 

And, my stash.

At some point, Jarrett found my hiding spot. I didn't realize his discovery for a day or two; he'd been kind of quiet, and I'd noticed him murmuring with his brother, although I hadn't paid a lot of attention at the time. 

A few hours afterward, Kevin asked if we could talk. 

He, Craig, and Jerrod each filed into the living room and sat down. And then, for a good minute or two, argued about who would go first. 

When I had nearly lost my patience and gotten up from the couch, Jerrod asked the question.

"Dude... what's with diapers?"

Picture it. You're sitting on a couch, in a room with your closest friends. And you're on the spot. They want to know... what's with the diapers?

"What do you mean?"

That was my response. It hadn't even occurred to me that they'd found my stash, and different things were going through my mind. How the fuck had they found out? Seen my ad online? Heard it from someone else? I had no idea, but I knew my stash was well-hidden. And I definitely hadn't left any diapers laying around.

I hadn't noticed that Jarrett wasn't in on the conversation. He was outside, or somewhere.

"Under your bed, in a box," Jerrod said. 

"Disposable diapers. Big ones," Craig said. 

"Are you like... a bedwetter?" Kevin said. "If you are, it's cool. You don't have to hide it from us."

At this moment of extreme embarassment, I was faced with a choice.

Some of you have been there, I know.

Make up a dumb story?

Or tell the truth.

"I have testicular cancer." 

That's what I could have said. It's what at least two other abies out there have told people upon their secret being discovered. I read about it on a forum once, and told myself, at the time, that I'd never resort to such an outlandish lie.

"They're for my grandmother, she just left them here when she was here last."

That might have worked, too. And it, too, has been used more than a few times, by other diaper fetishists. 

I could have told one of those whoppers. Or any number of others. 

On the other hand, I was being asked by some of the people I was closest to. I'd have to stick with today's story for the rest of my life. Was honesty, maybe, the best policy?

Instead, I answered a question with a question.

"What the FUCK were you doing under my bed?"

That's when I found out why Jarrett wasn't in the room. He was a little... ashamed. He'd been somewhere he shouldn've have been, and he found some things he shouldn't have found. And, like a kid with a secret, he'd whispered what he'd found to everyone. 

The other three, being more mature (and, probably, truer friends), wanted to stop the whispering and start the conversation. 

I'm not sure what they thought they'd find out. 

I was still formulating my answer when Kevin spoke up.

"Is it like... that Jerry Springer shit?"

I thought for a minute. Everyone had seen the diaper dude on Jerry. (The normal-seeming guy, at that time, not the freaks that have been on since). 

This could work...

"It's complicated," I said. It was all I could think of.

And Craig summed up their positions:

"When you're ready to tell us, we're ready to listen."

Craig came to live with me when I was a junior in college. He'd come and go a few times over the years, but the first time he occupied the second room in my high-rise. He was also in school, and we bonded and became very good friends.

I didn't realize how close we'd become until, in an extremely hectic midterm exam week I flipped out about not having enough time to get things done. The apartment was a mess, I couldn't find some of my study guides - I suspected Craig had tossed them out in his takeover of the second room - and I barely had time to study, let alone do anything else. 

I went to school, and didn't return until late that night. When I returned Craig was sleeping on the couch, the television on, and I remember walking across the room to turn it off, only to turn it back on and use the light to confirm what I realized I'd just seen: the living room, disorganized and disheveled when I'd left, was spotless.

I checked Craig's room, expecting to see all of the junk thrown into it - the 'quick fix' to calm me down. Instead, I saw it the most organized it had been since he moved in. A quick check of the bathroom revealed a shiny, spotless tub, toilet, and sink. He'd cleaned every inch. He had even organized the hall closet. It must have taken him all day.

I was impressed. 

I tried to wake him up to thank him, but he was out. A little shaking didn't do it, and I was tired, so I decided to turn in. 

I walked into my room and opened the door. A quick flip of the light and I saw something I'd never expected to see in a million years: my room, spotless also.

Craig had cleaned and organized every inch of the apartment, in response to my rant. And he'd even done my room. 

I lay down, happy as hell, and began to doze off. 

And then I had a thought that startled me so much I sat up straight in bed: wet diaper.

Wet diaper... wet diaper!!!

That morning I'd been short on time - sort of a theme for me that week. I'd peeled off a soaking wet diaper and hopped in the shower but, after getting dressed and realizing I was going to be late, I'd tossed the wet diaper onto a plastic Rubbermaid box and pushed it under my bed, intending to dispose of it when I returned.

Normally, this would be no problem. Tonight, it might have been.

Had Craig... cleaned... everywhere?

I leaned over the bed and reached underneath. There was the container.

Whew, right? 

Wrong. 

Gone was the wet diaper. 

And I realized that Craig had come face-to-face with a piss-soaked Pamper. And had taken it upon himself to pick it up. 

Embarassing? 

Oh, yea. 

You know you have a true friend when someone cleans up your wet diaper and doesn't complain. And, the next day, Craig had no complaints.

"Did you notice anthing different about the apartment?" he asked.

Yea. Thank you Craig... really.

"Did you notice anything different about your room?"

Yes, you cleaned every inch. Errrrr... thank you, Craig.

"You need to get a Diaper Genie."

Uhhh... I guess I do.

Since then I can safely say Craig is no stranger to diapers. He's worn them on at least a half dozen occasions, he's seen me in them dozens of times, and he's cleaned them up more than just this once. 

And he's still one of my best friends.

In fact, as I sat down and tried to figure out what to write tonight, he called and, as we talked - and I was reminded, again, what a great friend he is - it occured to me.

A year after the apartment cleanup Craig would offer to wear a diaper as punishment - along with some other stuff - in a ploy to be allowed to borrow my car to impress his girlfriend.

Two years later Craig would offer to spend a week in diapers as partial payment to purchase the same car.

He still has the car...

That story tomorrow...

And coming soon... the rest of my friends in diapers lol.