Abysitter: Tales From the Crib

To read the entire "Growing Up: The Cottage" series, and other blog entries I've written about growing up, click here.

I've been writing about my family's summer cottage, a small one-bedroom shack-like structure smack-dab on a lake in upstate New York. My grandfather built it decades before I was even born, and it became a special part of the lives of my grandparents, parents, andso many family members and friends. I recognized it's specialness at a very young age. It became a part of most of my childhood memories worth remembering, and remains just as special today. It's the basis for my love of the water; if you know me you know what I'm talking about. Most of all, it gave me a place to experiment with my toddler alter-ego. I'm writing about some of those experiences here...

Best Friends... Part III

Mark lay flat on his stomach, his ass in the air just a touch, flexing his shoulder blades, probably knowing how much that turned me on. I lay next to him, rubbing his asscheeks, feeling their hardness, a little envious. Mark was truly an attractive kid. I was decent, with a swimmer's build and blond hair which became lighter in the summer. But I always had to work at it, whereas Mark could sit on his beautiful Speedo-clad ass and eat Haagen-Daas ice cream straight from the carton and still be... hot.

"So when you first realized... wow," I marveled aloud, thinking of what Mark's reaction must have been. "I guess I owe you a thank you. I'm surprised you didn't spread the word..."

"Fuck no, you're my best friend," Mark replied. "You know everything about me, and I thought I knew everything about you." I could tell Mark was being semi-funny, but he sounded a little hurt, too. "I mean... if I'm not the first person you've told about this... at least I am the first person you've put one of these on, right?"

He was.

I continued to rub Mark's ass, thinking. He'd known for weeks, and we'd hung out a whole bunch of times since he'd found out, but he'd never let on that he'd known until today. Thinking back, I realized he'd dropped some hints; I'd been invited over for a family BBQ and Mark had picked up his younger cousin's diaper bag and tossed it to me. "You should know where this goes," he'd said. I hadn't thought anything of it. Meanwhile, Mark had either been making fun of me or trying to signal that he was in on the secret...

Several weeks before I put a Hanes tighty-whitey diaper on Mark, he'd driven to the cottage to surprise me.

Mark had been to the cottage many times with me. Never by himself. But he'd gotten his driver's license, and cell phones weren't commonplace yet. The cottage equaled solitude - I still yearn for that feeling sometimes, knowing I'll probably never experience it again - and Mark couldn't call to tell me. So he drove there.

I'd not told Mark I was going to the cottage that day. I needed some toddler time, and had decided to roll on out on my lonesome, happy to become Little Cwis for a day or two. Mark had first driven to my parents house and, after sharing the news with them, had decided to take his first big trip, down the Thruway and to the lake.

That day I'd spent the entire afternoon in nothing but an Attends diaper. I'd wet once, twice, then a third time and, by the time I was finished, I was soaked and leaky. Not wanting to leak on a bed or furniture i'd rolled out the guest cot, put a plastic mattress protector on it, and laid out my Peanuts/Snoopy sheets, setting everything in the center of the living room floor. There was a small chance someone could stop by, but it was remote, so I wasn't worried much - in fact, I'd done this whole routine before. I'd open the huge windows on every side of the cottage and, as lake breezes cooled the indoors, I'd lay on my tummy, feeling the wind on my diapered bum.

I'd fallen asleep that day, and slept for several hours. When I'd awoken I'd decided to drive out to a lakeside hamburger stand for a cheeseburger and a milkshake. Not wanting to test my luck with a wet, stinky diaper I'd changed, leaving the wet diaper in a pile by the door and heading out in a dry, powder-laden diaper. It would be, in fact, one of the first times I'd wear in public.

While I'd slept, Mark had arrived.

And he wasn't alone...

"Are you sure that nobody else knows?" I asked Mark, hoping to be reassured. I continued to rub his ass and, by this point, had moved a hand around to his front-side, pressing it up and down against his erect penis, without protestation.

"Nobody knows, dude. You have my word on that... why would you even think you had to ask?"

"Well, think about it, Mark... you were with Sean Pace. Sean Fucking Pace. Sean 'I Can't Keep Anything To Myself' Pace. How would I not be a little worried?"

Mark considered this, then turned over suddenly, sitting up.

"Sean didn't see anything, and he doesn't know anything," Mark said, looking very seriously. "And if he did see something, or did know something, he wouldn't say something, because he knows I'd stomp his fucking ass."

I was feeling reassured.

"Nobody knows, and if they ever found out, they'd be talking about how you wear diapers, and now I've worn one too," Mark continued. "And yes, I know this is a 'fake diaper'. If they knew I'd wear a real one. And I'd wear it right into school. I'd walk up to Sean Pace, take a big fat dump, pull my diaper down, and smear it in his face. And I'd say 'It's time to stop talking now, Sean.' Every time he smelled a shitty diaper, for the rest of his life, he'd think of me, and the importance of keeping a secret."

I was chuckling now.

"But calm down, dude. He doesn't know." And he added after thinking: "And if I were you I wouldn't go telling him, hoping he'll squeal and I'd get to see Mark Teague walking around school in a shit-filled diaper."

I assured Mark that wasn't my plan.

Mark had picked up Sean and driven the sixty minutes down the Thruway and along country roads until they came to the lake. They'd driven down the dirt road to the cottage, Mark's Bronco handling the treacherousness with ease. (I was jealous of Sean; Mark had been talking about taking his Bronco 'off-roading' at the cottage for the longest, and I'd missed being the first person he'd gotten to do it with.)

Mark knew I wasn't particularly fond of Sean - Sean could be annoying in a major way, and was fond of talking about people behind their backs, but Mark was eager to share his first solo Thruway drive with someone, and Sean was my replacement. Knowing there was a chance I'd be annoyed Mark left Sean to wait, hoping to give me a few minutes advance notice before Sean joined the three of us on the beach.

Mark had walked down the steps to the cottage, excited about surprising me.

He'd walked along the beach, glad to see the motorboat, row boat, and canoe were all present; that meant I was around somewhere.

He walked into the cottage and, I imagine, was stunned by what he'd found.

In the middle of the living room floor, on a rollaway cot, lay his best friend - in a huge, wet, baby diaper.

I can't even imagine the look on his face when he first saw.

He was quiet, presumably, because I never woke up.

Not even when he quietly picked up a blanket off the floor, placed it over me, and tip-toed out.

Mark had told me later that he'd been worried someone else would see me.

I remembered waking up with the blanket covering me, thinking I'd been sleepwalking.

Instead, Mark had covered me up, then trudged back up to the Bronco.

He'd told Sean that I wasn't feeling well and didn't want company.

Sean had complained, suggesting that the two of them at least go for a swim. Mark had refused, and would later tell me that Sean had been pretty persistent. To placate him Mark drove both of them to a get burgers and fries. Several hours later, having no idea of any of this, I'd drive my diapered ass to the same stand.

I couldn't even imagine Mark's reaction when he'd first told me all of this.

A few weeks later I had a Penthouse magazine about DPF in my hands.

And a few weeks after that, Mark's fake-diapered ass in my face.

Mark arched his back, his cock pressing up against the material his 'diaper' was made of.

I continued to rub, working my hands up and down his penis. At some point Mark turned over, sticking his hard little ass into the air and requesting a massage.

"Rub, please?"

I was more than happy to oblige and, as I rubbed Mark's tush, I marveled at how lucky I'd been.

My best friend had found me in a diaper and, instead of telling anyone, he'd protected me.

He'd later pledge to humiliate himself to defend my honor.

I'd get hints which would go unrecognized and, eventually, a magazine left in my car in an attempt to broach the subject.

And only a few weeks after it had all begun, my best friend - straight and definitely not into diapers - would propose wearing something which resembled a diaper in an attempt to understand my fetish, and/or identify with it.

This, plus the fact that Mark was beautiful inside and out, made me realize how fortunate I'd been.

So when Mark asked me to explain a little bit more about the diapers, I felt at ease...

"I get that they're relaxing, Chris. But I know you relax no matter what you're doing down here. So... what else do you get out of wearing diapers?"

To Be Continued...