Pampered Pals: Part VI

What follows is the sixth chapter in the Pampered Pals series. This series was started on February 6, 2009 and ran through May 7, 2009. Nearly four years, and dozens of requests, later, and I'm finally ready to finish the story. 

Before you read this you may want to read the rest of the story. Each of the links below will open in a new window. Check it out...

• Pampered Pals: Part I
• Pampered Pals: Part II
• Pampered Pals: Part III
• Pampered Pals: Part IV
• Pampered Pals: Part V

If you're not into spending an hour reading, a refresher: my best friend Craig needs a car, wants to buy my old Mustang, and has offered cash and diapers as part of a deal, an offer I've accepted. We've just woken up from his first overnight in a wet (with water, sigh...) diaper. 

And the story continues from here...

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Craig woke up to me standing over him, with a dry, fresh diaper hanging from my hand. He cracked a smile, shook his head, and spoke.

"Thank... God." 

I looked at him sternly and reached for the paddle. 

"Thank God, SIR!" he said, way too loudly. His face turned red a little, and I could tell he'd just had a wake-up call, so to speak. "Is this where I get changed, sir? Because my bottom is freezing from cold dampness." 

I nodded. Craig looked relieved. I reached down and put my hands on the tapes of his Attends. I yanked on them, both sides at once, with so much force that the diaper ripped. I repeated until the tapes ripping away had obliterated the diaper, and then I yanked it out from underneath him. Craig lay naked on his mattress, red-faced, unsure of what to do next. I ordered him to turn over, and he obeyed. I enjoyed the view of his bottom for a few minutes as I prepared diaper supplies. I scooped up the paddle, diaper, powder, and wipes, and ordered Craig to follow me. 

I snapped my fingers and pointed into the bathroom. I asked Craig if he had to go potty, and he nodded and then looked concerned. I knew what was coming. 

"I have to go... poopy, sir," he announced. 

"Figured that," I told him. "Plop and flop." 

Craig paused. 

"Uhhhhhh... do what, sir?" 

"Plop, and flop," I told him. "You have one minute. Do your biz, and get your bottom back onto the floor. Sixty seconds... GO!" 

Craig didn't waste any more time. He climbed up onto the toilet and then looked at me expectantly. He probably thinks I'm leaving, I thought. 

"Fifty seconds..."

"Um, sir... are you... staying?" I nodded. Craig's face turned redder and he looked confused. "But I don't think I can poop when you're watching, sir," he told me. 

"No problem, Craig," I told him. "I'll give you another chance tonight before bed. Forty seconds..."

Somehow Craig found the ability to go, and did so. When he seemed to be done I snapped my fingers and pointed to the floor. Craig looked bewildered, now, and looked around for the toilet paper. Finding none he raised his hand. I nodded. 

"Is there something to... wipe with... sir?" he asked hopefully. I shook my head no. 

"Five seconds." 

Just like that, Craig was on the floor, poopy bum and all. He couldn't have looked more embarrassed, and I was enjoying it. I motioned for him to follow me, and he did. Out in the hall where there was more room I directed him to turn over. I then turned him over onto his back and ordered him to lift his feet. Craig was becoming an old pro, now, and he held them in place diaper change style. 

I pulled out a wipe and wiped everywhere except his ass. Then I slid an Attend underneath him, powdered him liberally, and cinched his diaper on. The fact that his bottom had not been wiped was not lost on him, and he asked about it. 

"Dirty diapers are no big thing here," I told him. He shook his head but didn't protest. Just in case I pulled him up underneath him arms and pulled his diaper up into his buttcrack. Craig laughed wryly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. I snapped my fingers. "Bottom on the floor," I ordered. He looked like he wanted to complain, but did not. 

I walked down the stairs into the living room and motioned for Craig to follow me. He scooted down on his rear and then crawled along behind me obediently. I walked through the living room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. I paused, and Craig did as well. Then I snapped again and began walking, back into the living room. I did the circular route three more times, then paused. Craig looked up hopefully. I snapped my fingers and began walking again. After ten more laps I could sense that Craig was growing tired. 

"This is easier for you than it is for me, sir," he finally spoke. "I'm crawling, and you're just strolling along..." 

I had to laugh. 

"Want me to pick you up and carry you?" I asked, teasing. He looked like he was thinking that over, so I ordered him to follow me again. He groaned, and I asked if he wanted me to incorporate some stairs into the routine. He begged me not to. 

On our next pass past the sofa I reached behind it and pulled it out: my pop-up playpen/tent contraption. Craig looked surprised as I shook it open and it became a playpen. I ordered him in and he crawled around it looking for the largest opening. He found it and crawled in. He peered at me through the mesh. I grabbed a book, and then pulled out a coloring book and four crayons. I dropped them into the opening and they flopped into his lap. 

"Color up," I told him. He shook his head and groaned but obediently opened the book and started looking for a page to color. 

"The Little Mermaid, sir?" he groaned. I nodded, then picked up a book and lay down on the sofa, beginning to read. He began to color, and I could see him still shaking his head through the mesh. 

After an hour of reading I was bored. I'd made Craig hold up his coloring book a few times to show me his progress. Craig was clearly hampered by the fact that he only had four colors. Luckily one was a shade of pink, so his mermaids were adequately effeminate. I had to chuckle at masculine Craig trying to get the Little Mermaid just right. 

"Ready for breakfast?" I asked him. Craig nodded emphatically, and I could tell that he was hungry. I ordered him to crawl into the dining room and sit in the chair on the end - one with long arms. He did, and I pulled him toward my chair so that he was only inches away from me. With that I turned around and walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a shelf unit from the closet and brought it over to Craig's chair, setting it on top of the arms. He got it instantly. 

"Okay, sir so... a high chair?" 

I laughed and nodded. Then I walked back into the kitchen. I prepared myself a bowl full of cereal and poured milk into it, then got a glass of OJ. I brought it into the dining room, and Craig smiled. I could tell he was hungry. I set it in front of my place and went back into the kitchen. 

I reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a jar of Gerber baby food - oatmeal and fruit flavor. Then I took a baby bottle out of a drawer in the fridge and poured milk into it. A few pieces of Zwieback toast from the cupboard later, and Craig's breakfast was ready. I walked back in and set it down on the tray in front of him. His eyes immediately began to roll... 

"Sir... please... I'm starving." 

"I have more baby food," I laughed. "This is just a start." With that I sat down and began to sit. "I'll feed you when I'm finished eating," I told him. "Go ahead and start on that bottle..." 

Craig obediently picked up the bottle and began drinking. He seemed to think that he would be able to just swig that shit. But as most of us know, baby bottles aren't a quick liquid fix... you gotta suck on 'em, and it takes a while. After a solid minute of sucking Craig took the bottle out of his mouth and held it in front of him. He looked visibly surprised that it had only dropped about two centimeters. He rolled his eyes and began sucking again, harder this time. Slurrrrp. Air bubbles began to form. I reached over, put my fingers on the end of the bottle, and pushed it up into the air. His head tipped back and he was able to suck without sucking in air. 

"I don't need a gassy baby," I told him. "That's what happens when you suck in air..." 

Craig started laughing, and immediately choked on his milk. I was almost finished with my cereal so I reached over and took the bottle out of his hands, setting it on the tray in front of him. He continued to cough up milk for the better part of a minute. I asked him if he needed to be burped, and this caused him to laugh more, but he stopped coughing. 

"Okay, Cwaig," I said, baby talking. "It's time for bweakfast!" Craig did not look excited as I peeled the foil top off the baby food container and pulled out a Fisher Price baby spoon. He did look... surprised. 

"Sir... what do your parents think when they come over and see that you have baby silverware?" 

"I guess they probably just think... Craig's been over again." 

Craig rolled his eyes. 

"Very funny, sir." 

I scooped up a spoonful of baby food and moved the spoon towards Craig's mouth, mimicking the sound of a motorboat as I did so. His face was red and he moved his head back as I held the spoon. He began to try to take the spoon out of my hands, as if to feed himself, and I put a stop to that right quick:

"Sit on your hands," I ordered. 

His face reddened deeper, and he obeyed, sliding his hands underneath his diaper. Now defenseless, I moved the spoon closer to his mouth. He leaned forward and took the tiniest of bites off of the spoon, smacking his lips and trying to taste it. His face cinched up like he'd just bit off a piece of a lemon. I had to laugh... way dramatic. 

"This is... disgusting!" Craig exclaimed. He continued to smack his lips as though he was trying to rid himself of the taste of baby food. I continued to laugh, then reached the spoon to his mouth, inserted the spoon, lifted it, and pulled it back out, leaving the mound of baby food on the top of Craig's mouth. He looked shocked, for a moment, and then moved his tongue around, feeling for the baby food. There it was. He slowly licked at it, pulling it into his mouth, and began chewing slowly, hesitantly. Before he'd even finished swallowing his mouthful I had another spoon to his lips. 

"Open," I told him. He started to talk with his mouth full, obviously trying to point out that he was still working on the last mouthful, and I interrupted him. "OPEN." He obeyed, and I dropped off another spoonful, leaving it on the roof of his mouth and under his upper lip. He started to screwface me now, chewing slower. I gave him a minute, and then grabbed another spoonful - a huge spoonful, now, half of the container probably. I held it up. 

Craig closed his mouth tightly and shook his head. 

"We have to go slower," he told me. "I think I might throw up." 

The flavor of baby food was one of the mildest available, and I knew it didn't taste that much different from oatmeal. (How? Because I'd tried it myself on a number of occasions). I realized that Craig was just being dramatic. 

"Open." I waited, and he looked like he was thinking about it. "OPEN." 

Craig opened his mouth just a little. He was still chewing, although I didn't know how. I puttered the spoon to his mouth, with sound effects, and then reached out with my other hand, putting my fingers on his nose and squeezing his nostrils closed. He looked surprised, and then instinctively opened his mouth. I pushed the spoon in, leaving a huge mound of baby food stuck to the roof of his mouth. He looked surprised and annoyed at the same time, and left his mouth open as he took a big breath. The baby food plopped from the roof of his mouth onto his tongue, and he closed his mouth in disgust and began chewing slowly. I readied another spoonful...

"Mmffffff mmfffff," Craig said. I scolded him, warning him not to chew with his mouth full. He continued chewing until he was done, and I waited for him to speak. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Finally: "When you pinched my nose closed I felt like a real baby for a second." 

I had to laugh. I was feeding him just like a real baby would be fed, minus the fake high chair and forcing him to sit on his hands. I've always thought the nose-pinch technique was mean - but it was done to me when I was a baby (or so I'm told) so I thought it would be worth a shot. Turns out it works. 

We finished the feeding. There was no vomit. I gave Craig a few pieces of Zwieback toast - also something I'm told I experienced as a baby. He didn't seem to enjoy it very much, but he dutifully ate it. 

When Craig was done he needed something to wash down his toast and baby food. I picked up the baby bottle and removed the tray, setting it down. I snapped my fingers and pointed to the floor, and Craig obediently got down on all fours and began crawling behind me. I sat down on the couch and pointed to my lap and, after a few attempts, Craig managed to climb up and lay across my lap in the perfect position for a bottle feeding. 

I put the bottle to his lips and Craig immediately began to suck, smacking away and blinking rapidly. I told him to close his eyes and he did. He seemed to relax, and I used the hand not holding his bottle to begin rubbing his tummy. Craig actually began to smile a little, and I ran my fingers up and down his midsection, tickling him until he giggled a little. He stopped sipping and seemed to want to say something, but I pushed the bottle back into his mouth and he began slurping again...

I continued to tickle his tummy as the bottle emptied. Then I reached my hand down and rubbed the front of his diaper. I was surprised to find that he was hard - either the bottle feeding or the tickling had aroused him. As if on cue he stopped drinking and opened his eyes. 

"I get turned on by nipple play, sir..." he admitted. I nodded, but wondered if he'd really just gotten hard or had been hard for a while. I continued to rub his penis, and he continued to slurp until he was slurping nothing but air. He was even harder now. 

Time for some obedience exercises... 

I took the bottle from Craig and tossed it across the room. It landed by the front door, and I ordered him to bring it to me. He got down onto the floor and began to crawl across the floor toward it. 

"Back up," I told him. He did, and I pointed to the floor. He lay down on his tummy, and I snapped and pointed at the bottle. Craig began tummy crawling - considerably more difficult than hands-and-knees crawling - and slowly made his way toward the bottle. I could almost see him rolling his eyes from behind. He reached the bottle and started to pick it up. 

"In your teeth," I told him. He turned and looked at me, and seemed poised to ask a question. He thought better of it and bent down, trying to pick up the bottle by the nipple between his teeth. This proved to be a more difficult task than he - or I - had anticipated. After numerous attempts to right the bottle, which was laying on its side, with his chin, he finally lay his head flat on the floor and managed to mouth it. He looked quite proud of himself as he turned to come back to me, head down and bottle bobbing. I let him get halfway across the floor before I stopped him. 

"Stop." He stopped, looking confused. 

"Sit!" I ordered. I heard him murmur Okayyyyy, but he obeyed. 

"Indian style!" I commanded. Craig looked annoyed, but sat Indian style. 

I continued the drill. 

"Arms out like an airplane!" Craig slowly lifted his arms until they were horizontal to the ground. I let him sit there for several minutes until his arms began to quiver a little. 

"Windmills!" I shouted. Craig looked confused, and I could see him begin to speak, but he was still holding a baby bottle in his mouth and could not. I repeated it. "Windmills?" Craig began to move his arms windmill style - an old drill I'd done first as a swimmer and then as a swim coach. They were harder than they looked, and they tired your arms out quickly. 

"Bigger!" I commanded. Craig began to make bigger windmills, and his arms were clearly beginning to tire. I decided to give him a bit of a break, and ordered him to sit on his hands again. He complied with relief. 

I got down on all fours and crawled over to him, and then sat in front of him, just inches away. I stared into his eyes and then leaned in, nose to nose, staring. Craig blushed and looked away, so I ordered him to look at me. He did, continuing to blush, and began to giggle. (I'd done the face-to-face staredown exercise as part of training for my job at the time; a common reaction is for one or both parties to break the gaze - or begin laughing. Nobody is sure why laughing occurs, but it happens a lot. And sure, enough, it was happening here. I was dead serious; Craig couldn't help but laugh.)

"If that bottle falls out I'm going to paddle your ass," I told him. He looked suddenly serious and tried to get a better grip on the nipple with his teeth. I could tell he wanted to push it into his mouth with his hands, but they were under his bottom now and going nowhere. 

"Help me," he mumbled. I feigned confusion and asked him what he was saying. "Help me?" he repeated. I pretended to be even more confused. I put my fingers around his nipples and gave them a little twist. 

"Pinch me?" I asked him. "Okay, Craig, but I don't know why you'd - "

Craig interrupted me, ferociously shaking his head no. 

"Help me!" he repeated, louder. He had managed to direct his eyes downward, looking at the bottle, as if to give me a hint as to what he wanted. I looked downward, too - at his diaper. 

"Check me?" I reached down and inserted my fingers into his diaper. His penis was just as hard as it had been before. "Still dry," I told him. "Probably not for long but... still dry..." 

Craig shook his head no again, and I could see that he was starting to lose his grip on his bottle. I had to laugh... with all of the head shaking, he seemed to have shaken it lose. Just a little bit more... 

"Twenty-five situps," I told him. Craig looked surprised, and then groaned loudly as he put his hands behind his head and lay back. I held his feet, and Craig began doing situps. I counted. "One... one... one..." and he stopped. I explained that his head had to touch me on every situp for it to count. He groaned again and started over, coming all the way up. It looked exhausting. I was having fun. 

Twenty-five full situps later Craig was clearly tired and out of breath. I ordered him to lay down, and he did, gratefully, even murmuring a thank you. He continued to breath heavily, and I rubbed his diaper and his stomach, alternating between the two. Craig was still hard - and he was beautiful. Craig was cut and muscular, lifeguarding in the summer and maintaining his tan all winter in the booth. The whiteness of his Attend against his skin was an awesome sight, and I was enjoying every minute of it. I lay down next to him and continued to rub, and he began to sigh and moan a little. His penis was rock hard now, and pushing the diaper up in the front. It was obvious that he was enjoying it...

Now that he was laying on his back Craig decided to take a chance. The bottle in his mouth, he opened his mouth a little and kind of jerked his head up, trying to catch the bottle at a better angle. Instead, it fell to the right, bounced off the floor, and rolled away from us. 

I stopped rubbing. 

Craig looked alarmed. 

I stood up, ordering him to wait there. I walked up into the bedroom and grabbed the paddle, returning to the living room with haste. 

"Hands and knees," I ordered. 

Craig suddenly sounded very much like a scared little boy. 

"Sir... no..." he pleaded. 

"Yes," I replied. 

"Sir... please... you don't have to do this." 

It was like I had a gun to his head or something. 

"Hands and knees," I repeated. He slowly got up onto his knees and then stopped, thinking...

"Sir... please. Pleassssssse. I don't need a spanking." 

The fact that this kid in his 20s was on the floor in a diaper pleading me not to spank his was, I'll admit, hot as fuck. And the way he was doing it was fucking adorable. He didn't need a spanking? Hahahahahahahaha... I had to laugh. That was so cute. The look on his face remained dead serious as he slowly moved toward all fours. 

"Seriously, sir... please. I don't need a spanking. Please..." 

I almost felt bad as I reigned down with the first paddle smack. 

BOOOM! 

(If you know anything about Attends, you know that they have a padded seat, but that the padding is limited. If you're trying to spank someone who is wearing an Attends-brand diaper always go for the side... there's little padding there, and it will be way more effective.)

The crack echoed throughout the room, and Craig let out a yelp. 

"PLEASE!" 

His tone was begging now. Pleading! I was surprised... this was the person I'd spanked a year earlier, and he'd had no problem handling a bunch. He'd even tried to barter for more. And now he seemed genuinely frightened of the paddle. 

"Are you telling me you don't need a spanking?" I asked him. 

"Yes, sir!" he replied, seeming grateful to have a chance to plead his case - or maybe just grateful to not be getting spanked for a moment. "Sir, I don't need a spanking! I've been good this whole time!" The look in his eyes was pleading now, and I knew that the spanking would not continue. Still, I couldn't let on just yet. I let him continue. "I ate all my baby food. I sat on my hands when you told me. I haven't forgotten sir once, sir! I've been such a good boy..." 

I think what was most adorable about the situation was that Craig was genuinely in a position where he was being toddlerized. Unlike someone in the ABDL community who can just stop being little at any time, Craig had rules to obey - and ending his time as my toddler would result in the ending of our deal for the car. Craig wanted to buy that car, and I could tell he was picturing himself driving away with it at the end of a very long diapered weekend. He couldn't stop... he had zero control over events. This had made him feel helpless... which is the feeling so many ABDLs I've babysat since have told me they yearn to feel during ageplay.

Craig continued to beg. It was cute beyond belief. I finally cut him off.

"You're telling me that you don't need a spanking," I continued, to Craig's furious nodding. "But who's decision is that, Craig? Yours? Do you decide if you need a spanking?" 

I could see the look on Craig's face. He'd been caught. He was trying to reason with me, plead with me not to spank him, but he'd messed up. 

"Sir... I mean... I don't think I need a spanking. But... I know that it's not... up to me. I just..." he trailed off. 

"You don't want a spanking," I helped him. He nodded. 

"I don't want a spanking." 

"Do you think that maybe - just maybe - there's a possibility that you do need a spanking?" 

"Yes, sir." Craig looked crestfallen. He nodded sadly and, without even being told, braced his diapered bottom for the next blow. I stood and held the paddle high in the air as I walked around behind him. Craig shook his head. "It's just that... sir... I've tried to be such a good boy." Craig sounded so little now that I was starting to want to trade places with him. "I have tried to be the perfect little baby for you. I want the car, but I also want you to have fun. And I've..." 

Sigh... I let him know that I was willing to bargain, and threw the paddle into the dining room, where it landed on the carpet. Craig looked relieved. 

"Sir... I'll do anything... anything at all," he told me. 

The challenge was on... 

When we'd driven to my house there had been snow on the ground. By the time we'd woken up, however, a warm front had come through - typical for New York in December - and the snow was mostly melted, almost gone. 

"You like to run, right?" I asked him. 

"Yes, sir!" Craig responded enthusiastically. He'd briefly run track in middle school, he explained. Then he thought about what what he was saying for a moment. "Wait... why?" 

"I'm willing to end this spanking right now - if you can meet a challenge I'm going to give you," I told him. He looked confused, so I continued. "I'm going to have you do something I like to call... Luvs Laps." 

"Luvs Laps?" he repeated, sounding doubtful. "Sir, what the f--- are... Luvs Laps?" 

I reached around and swatted his bottom with the paddle - not too hard, but just hard enough. He realized his mistake. 

"I apologize for my potty mouth, sir," he said, sounding cute. "What are Luvs Laps, if you don't mind my asking?" 

The air outside was nearing 50 degrees, and the snow was almost gone. I knew it was on. I opened the front door and motioned him to crawl to me. He did, looking outside. 

"Sir... I'm not going... out there... dressed like this... am I?" 

"Up to you, Craig," I told him. Craig thought for a moment and realized what that meant. He sighed, shook his head, and gave me an exasperated look. 

"Sir... I'm going outside in a diaper, huh?" 

I nodded. 

"In broad daylight." 

I nodded some more. 

"Sir... wow. In front of your neighbors?" 

I knew my neighbors wouldn't be a problem. The neighbors across the street were old and didn't see well. I'd caught my next door neighbor with a woman who was not his wife in the backyard - plus he worked days, anyway. And the neighbors to my right were snowbirds who left New York for the Carolinas every winter. We'd be okay.

"Ten times around," I told him. 

"But sir... there's snow on the ground." 

"Hardly any," I told him, pointing outside. 

"And it's freezing, sir..." 

"Freeze your behind off... or spend the day wishing it didn't hurt." Craig had two options. I didn't really care which one he picked. He clearly did. 

"Luvs Laps... okay, sir. How many?" 

"Ten." 

Craig looked incredulous. As he began to protest the red-and-white of a Sheriff's cruiser drove by slowly. They patrolled my street often, in part because so many of my neighbors were gone for the winter. I was used to seeing them drive by; Craig, however, spotted his chance. 

"What if the Sheriff sees me? I don't want to get arrested, sir!" 

I reminded Craig that there's nothing illegal about wearing diapers. Strange, maybe, but totally legal. 

"Even in the yard, sir?" 

Even in the yard. 

Still, I hoped that nobody would drive by and see Craig running around the house in a diaper. How would I explain it? Incontinence? Mentally handicapped? I thought aloud, and Craig blushed, shaking his head. 

"I'll just tell them that you're forcing me to run around in diapers in the snow, and if I don't you won't let me back in the house," Craig threatened jokingly. "If one of us is going to jail, we're both going to jail." 

"But you'll be going to jail in nothing but a diaper," I told him. "I can't wait to tell the other inmates why. I'll tell them you were trying to break into a daycare..." 

Craig started laughing and rolled his eyes. 

"Truce, sir," he announced. 

"You ready to run?" I asked him. The Sheriff passed back up the road - their regular hourly route - and I could see Craig was nervous. "Suggestion: run fast when you're on the road side of the house..." 

I ran downstairs and grabbed Craig's shoes, then put them on the floor in front of him. He bent over to put them on and his diaper stretched. It was beginning to loosen, and I knew that it would soon be time for a change. I briefly considered changing Craig before his run, but then thought better of it. 

I pointed outside, and Craig stepped outside and onto the front porch. I joined him, closing the door. It was cold. The sun was beaming, but not on our side of the house. Craig shivered and hugged himself to try to stay warm, beginning to jump up and down. His diaper began to sag and fall, and I gave his half-bare bottom a swat. He grabbed his diaper and hiked it up. 

"Uh oh, sir..." 

"You'll be fine. Now, ten times around. You have to run as fast as you can, and every time you pass the door you must stop, face me, and tell me something good about me." 

"Sir... really?" Craig looked like he thought I was joking but couldn't be sure. 

"Dead ass serious," I told him. "And... you have a total of ten minutes. If you don't finish in ten, we can do it again... or I can just pull that paddle back out." 

"Sir... so if I don't make it under ten minutes this won't even count?" 

"Nope," I told Craig. "Want to change your mind and just take the spanking?" 

"No, sir," Craig answered. "I just want to be fast..." 

"Then go one one... ten... nine... eight..." 

Craig posed as if to get a runner's start. I started laughing, but continued the countdown. 

"...one." 

Craig was off. He ran down the stairs, across the driveway, and around the house. I peered through the front door and saw him blaze past the back window, and then around the dining room. Within twenty seconds he was back around and standing in front of me. His diaper was sagging a little more now. 

"Sir, you have been there for me all my life, and if I ever needed anything I knew I could come to you." 

Boom. He was off again. I watched through the house as he ran around, and within thirty seconds he was rounding the other side of the house again. I realized I hadn't checked the time. It was okay... I wasn't serious about the ten minute thing anyway.

"Sir..." he panted. "Sir... remember the time I had my lifeguarding class... and I didn't want to go, and you told me if I didn't you wouldn't ever give me a ride anywhere again?" I nodded. I knew where this was going. "Sir, that class changed my life. Thank you." 

Craig took off again. As he rounded the corner I could see the crack of his ass. His diaper was not able to handle all of this running. I briefly wondered if he was wet...

He rounded the corner again, staggering to a stop in front of me. He was out of breath, now. 

"Sir... this is harder than I thought it would be..." 

"That doesn't count as something good about me... try again," I said, joking. Craig rolled his eyes. 

"Sir... you tried to keep me from dropping out of high school, but I just wanted to skate all day. If I had listened to you instead of my friends who skated, my life would be way different now." 

With that Craig was off again. Six more times around. Each time the diaper was lower. By lap eight he was holding it up with his hands as he ran. Each time around he had something nice to say, and although I thought he'd start running out of ideas and presenting me with lameness, he did not. By lap ten I could see most of Craig's penis - his Attend was drooping in the front - and he was completely out of breath. 

A car rolled slowly by behind Craig. The driver was looking straight ahead and clearly didn't see us, but Craig wasn't even fazed. He was exhausted, and gave the car a sideways glance, then a huge wave. 

"Look at me! I'm in a diaper!" Craig shouted. It was time to go inside. 

"I think the hypothermia is going to your brain," I joked, and Craig laughed. We stepped inside. He was forced to hold his diaper up, now... it was so loose it wouldn't stick to him. I wondered how elderly people who need diapers move around all day. I guessed they didn't run much. 

"Take your diaper off," I ordered. Craig let go of it and shook his bottom left-and-right a few times and the diaper easily fell to the floor. He stepped out of it, bent over, picked it up, and handed it to me. It was dry, of course. 

I reached down and flicked Craig's penis. It wasn't hard anymore - in fact, the cold had made it retreat into itself like a turtle. I laughed, and flicked it a few more times. 

"You know what happens when they get cold, sir," Craig noted. 

"They get... diaper sized?" I asked. Craig rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

"It'll be huge as ever in just a few minutes, watch," Craig boasted. My turn to roll my eyes. I continued to rub it a bit, and then turned Craig around and pushed him gently into the corner. 

I returned to the couch and lay down. Craig stood silently, now, and would stand there for as long as I wanted him to. I could literally keep him nude in the corner for the rest of the day if I wanted. I lay for nearly an hour, relaxing as the sun hit the couch, and watching my friend's bottom - his beautiful, tan (thank you, tanning booths!) bottom. 

He finally raised his hand. 

"Sir," he said when I finally pretended I'd noticed him. "Sir... I have to go... umm... dookie." 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Next: Craig And The Oatmeal Filled Diaper