Daddy??

[CWIS'S NOTE] I babysit, diaper, and/or chill with a ton of ABDLs. Sometimes we do photo shoots. Sometimes I write stories about the experience for the blog. And, other times, I do neither. Sometimes people don't want their visit photographed or blogged about. And that's fine. 

The person in this story has asked me to tell it several times. I'm finally able to do so. 

No pictures, because none have been taken. (Thanks to Baby Robby for the stunt doubling!) 

But the story is here.

If I've diapered, babysat, or hung out with you and you've never seen your story here, it's probably because you've never asked me to post it. If you think it's worth telling, email me and let me know - or write it yourself and I'll post it up. 

Now then... 

[PHOTOS COPYRIGHT ABYSITTER.COM]

[DO NOT REDISTRIBUTE WITHOUT PERMISSION]

DADDY??

Baby Riley & 'Daddy Cwis'

[Photos courtesy of Ronikat - aka Baby Robby]

Note: Baby Robby is not the subject of this story.

"I definitely want a spanking before you send me packing," he said.

I looked back at him. I knew he'd mentioned this on the phone, but I was still taken aback.

He seemed like far too nice a kid to want to be spanked.

His name was Riley.

I met him in the spring of 2009. 

I'd met him on RUPadded or some other diaper site the year before.

He was a college freshman from up north visiting Orlando with his mother, stepfather, and stepbrothers. 

They were doing Walt Disney and Epcot Center for almost the entire trip, and he'd already gotten tired of Mickey Mouse.

"It was okay when I was a kid," he told me. "But now that I'm grown..." 

I had to laugh - the kid was 18. Barely "grown." 

Somehow he'd talked them into letting him borrow their car for an overnight. 

They were staying on property and wouldn't need it, and he wanted to meet me.

"I told them I'm going to explore Orlando, and that some of my friends from high school were here and have a condo for the week," he'd told me. "They bought it. Can I come over and spend the night?"

We'd talked at length online, via text, and had even made a few phone calls. He'd known about the trip since the summer, and was determined to meet me somehow. Still, even he seemed surprised that his mother and stepfather didn't object to the idea of him staying somewhere else.

"Maybe they just want some time away from me," he suggested, in a tone that made me feel sad for him. I doubted that. Still, I asked him to be sure there was no way breaking away could bite him on the bottom later. Did they have his friends' numbers? No. Did they know where the supposed condo was? No. Did their car have GPS? No.

Seemed safe enough, so I gave him my address. About an hour later he arrived.

"Did you find the place alright?" I asked. He nodded and smiled, but seemed shell-shocked. At the time I lived in one of Orlando's worst neighborhoods. My apartment was a lakefront unit with a beautiful view of the Orlando skyline, and it had a nice, semi-private yard - but you had to drive through some nasty streets to find it. I'd decided the view was worth the trade-off. I wondered what Riley thought.

"Was the old homeless guy at the exit ramp like I said?" I asked. He smiled and nodded.

"I gave him $5," Riley said.

"Wow, seriously?" 

I always save my 'bum change' for the same guy - this old man who stands at the same offramp on Orange Blossom Trail - OBT to the locals - all day, every day. I admire his dedication. He's been at that same corner the whole seven years I've lived in Orlando. Sometimes I tell people about him. I'd never given him more than $1 at a time.

"Yea," Riley replied. "I knew it was him right when I saw him. From your description. I figured it's from both of us." He laughed. "And before I even got to him I almost hit a guy crawling around picking up change at the toll booth, just like you said."

That guy was often there, as well.

"Any problems past that point?" I asked. He shook his head, and then a look of thought came over him.

"Well, there were a bunch of black people staring at me outside that building on the corner," he said. I could tell, immediately, that Riley was probably not from any city. "I had to stop for a minute, and when I looked right, then left, then right again, I realized they were all giving me the stinkeye."

"I think that's just how they always look," I replied, and Riley laughed this cross between a yelp and a giggle. It was adorable.

"Hug?" he asked, and put his arms out. I gave him a hug.

"Now, don't be offended," I told him, "but I have to ask to see - "

"My ID. I know. Everyone knows." With that Riley pulled out his driver's license. I looked at it, then up at him. Then at it, then at him. I eyed him suspiciously. He yelped/giggled again.

"Consider me the TSA of babysitters," I told him.

"What's the TSA?" he asked.

"The Transportation Safety Administration?" I told him. "You know, those guys who checked your ID before you got on the plane?"

"I've never flown," he replied. "We drive every time."

Oh, yea. I knew that.

I was confident that Riley was 18, but he was small, looked young, and his giggling had me second-guessing it. Once I'd confirmed it, it was time to get to business. We were still standing by the car when I looked around and made sure nobody was watching.

"Monkey or potatoes?" I asked him. He giggled again, and looked at me with a confused look on his face. I repeated the question.

"Monkey?" he replied, giggling.

"Okay," I said. I reached my hands out and put one hand on each side of his tummy.

"No, wait," he yelped. "Potatoes."

"Are you suuuuuure?"

"Yep! Potatoes. Potatoes, potatoes, potatoes."

I bent over, grabbed Riley by his legs, and picked him up, tossing him over my shoulder. I carried him to my front door, opened it, walked across the room, and dropped him on the bed.

"Like a sack of potatoes?" he asked. I nodded and he started giggling again.

This had to be the happiest kid I'd ever met.

I grabbed a pacifier from my pocket, bent over, and popped it into his mouth. He was giggling again. I put my finger to my lips to quiet him, and he was instantly silent, but still shaking a little bit, laughing still. I shook my head, and he giggled again.

"Baby time?" I asked him, and he nodded profusely.

I grabbed Riley by the leg cuffs and pulled him down until he was at the bottom of the bed. I leaned forward and unbuttoned his jeans, pulled the zipper down, and pulled them off. They came off easily - that's not always the case - and he lay there in a pair of hot pink underwear. 

"Interesting color choice," I said. He giggled. Or yelped. 

"I love pink," he told me. "If they made pink diapers I'd wear them." 

"They do," I replied. Actually, I wasn't sure if they did or not. But they used to; I used to see them at Phar-Mor when I lived in Buffalo. They were the small Phar-Mor brand diaper. I was too big for them, but looking at Riley I knew he would have fit perfectly. 

"Do you have any?" Riley looked too excited, and I felt bad shaking my head. He smiled, still. "That's okay... I just wanna feel like a baby for a little bit." 

I selected a Cushie, and he clapped his hands. Riley had seen Cushies all over the internet, but had never gotten a chance to wear one. 

I lifted his feet, wiped him, slid a Cushie up underneath his bum, and poured on the powder. Riley wanted more, so I piled it on, and then rubbed it in. I used so much I was worried that the Cushie wouldn't stick, but somehow it did. I tucked the edges of the diaper into the leggings, and Riley smiled this big, huge smile. 

"Now I look even more babyish!" he cried out. I had to shush him; the windows were open and he was so loud I thought the neighbors might hear. Fuck, people across the lake might here. I could see he was excited. "Bro, do you have a mirror I can look at myself in?" 

I told Riley to follow me, and he stood up to trail me to the bathroom. I turned, snapped my fingers, and pointed to the floor. 

"Oh, yea!" Riley giggled. "Babies don't walk... durrrr!" With that he began the long, slow process of crawling on his tummy. Once he got to the bathroom he asked for permission to stand up, and I gave it. He stood and looked at himself in the mirror.

He was serious all of a sudden. 

"Bro... this is how I imagine myself." 

I stood behind Riley watching him look at himself. He was running his hands up and down the front of the diaper, feeling it and making it crinkle. 

"Chris, if it's okay.... I just want to look at myself for a few minutes." 

I offered to snap a picture, but Riley was adamant that no pictures be taken, so I quickly agreed - I don't make pictures a requirement, as much as I love new material for my blog, and I could totally understand why someone would not want them. 

Still, Riley stared at himself for so long I sat down on the toilet. I was seated behind him, but I couldn't even bring myself to check out that gorgeous ass... the look on his face was adorable, and I was as transfixed on it as Riley was on his diaper. 

"This is how I imagine myself," he said again. "I always try to picture myself as a baby, and this is exactly how I see it." He put the pacifier back in his mouth and began sucking on it. I let him stand there for a few more minutes before I walked up behind him, patted him on the bum, and told him it was time to go. 

"Would you carry me, Cwis?" 

I could see that Riley was actually regressing in his mind, without any real effort on my part. His voice was different now.... it was actually kind of babyish. I nodded and held out my arms, and without needing to be told Riley jumped up, wrapped his legs around me, and let me cradle him. I carried him into the bedroom and then walked over to the door to the outside, opening it and stepping out. No neighbors... check. I leaned up against the house and held Riley for a few minutes until I started to tire. He hugged me, sucking on his pacifier - or maybe that was his thumb, I couldn't tell. Eventually I opened the door, carried Riley to the bed, and sat down. He continued to hug me so I pushed myself back, laying back on the bed. Riley was on top of me now, and while it wasn't the most comfortable position I could see how comfortable it was for him. 

"This feels totally natural, Daddy." 

The word "daddy" hit me kind of hard. It was not a word that I used in reference to myself. To me, Daddies were those old guys who ran families and paid for boys to fly across the country to hang out at the house. I figured I had a bunch of years to go before I was in that category. So I corrected him. 

"I think just... Cwis." 

"You don't like to be called 'Daddy'?" Riley was giggling again, except this time it was a mischievous giggle. I could tell this wasn't going to end with him agreeing to call me Cwis... 

"Not really," I replied. "I feel too young to be going by the Daddy title." 

"How old are you?" he asked. I told him. 

"Can I check your ID?" 

"No," I told him. Then I admitted I'd turned 29 more than once. "I gave myself a little extra time to be in my twenties..." 

"I understand, Daddy," he replied. He looked at me seriously and, seeing the annoyed look cross my face, fell into a burst of giggles. "Anyway, it doesn't matter how old you are. What matters is that here, now, I feel like you're my daddy." 

Okayyy...

"So ummmm... Cwis... is it okay if I call you Daddy?" 

He was serious now, and I could see that this was important to him. I swallowed my pride and agreed. 

"Thanks, Daddy." 

I would say that I lay on my bed for two hours or so. Riley stayed on top of me, and when his weight began to feel overwhelming I pushed him off to the side a little, and he wrapped his leg around me and sort of clung to me. The kid had read virtually every entry in my blog, and he wanted to know more about the things he'd read. 

"Tell me about when you got robbed," he asked me. 

I told the story. 

"What about the time that guy came up into your apartment and you thought he was going to kill you?" 

I told that story, too. 

"What about the time that you first paid someone to wear a diaper?" 

I explained that story. 

I began to notice a pattern here; Riley only wanted to know more about all of the stories that involved some sort of danger. What was it with this kid? I had to ask. 

"Why are you stuck on the bad stuff?" I asked him. He began to giggle, and then looked serious. He re-positioned himself over me and looked me right in the face. 

"Every time I read one of those entries I think about how lucky I am that nothing really did happen to you," he told me. "Your blog has helped me. A lot. And if you'd been stabbed, or thrown off the balcony, or arrested, or... you know... anything bad. Well... me and a lot of other diaperboys wouldn't have the Abysitter blog to refer to." 

"It's a reference guide, huh?" 

"It's great for making people feel normal," he replied. He seemed serious, now, and I began to think about that. Sometimes I felt like people really didn't read the stories, and here was a kid who'd read them all - and, better yet, he'd internalized them, he related to them - he'd found them useful.

I resolved to write more. 

"Good, Daddy!" he yelped. This time I didn't bother to shush him. 

After about a dozen stories it was baby bottle time. I took Riley into the kitchen - carrying him - and set him down. I'd already set a baby bottle filled with milk in the fridge in anticipation of his visit, and I put it in the microwave, heated it, and pulled it out. 

"Come here." 

"Yes, Daddy...." 

Riley followed me back into the bedroom. I sat on the bed, leaning my back against the headboard, and snapped my fingers, pointing to my lap. Riley climbed up onto the bed and flopped over onto his back, pushing himself across the bed until his shoulders were across my knees. 

I inserted the bottle, and he began to suck. 

I could tell the kid was in heaven. 

Riley sucked and sucked, and when I began to pull the bottle out of his mouth he cried out - "No!" - and reached for it. I put it back in, and he continued to drink. 

I rubbed my fingers on Riley's tummy, tickling him a little. If he was ticklish it didn't show; he was going off on that bottle. Slurrrrp slurrrrp. I ran my fingers up and down his stomach and chest, flicking his nipples a little. He seemed to notice nothing except the bottle. His face was a little bit flushed, and I wondered if it was embarrassment or excitement. His eyes were closed, and as he slurped, I could see how natural it came to him. 

"After this, I'm going to take you outside and we can look at the stars." It was almost dark, now - perfect outside-in-just-a-diaper timing. He nodded vigorously. About that same time he began slurping air, and I could see that the milk was gone. I pushed him into a sitting position and pointed to the floor, and he obediently got down onto all fours.

"Come outside." I grabbed a blanket and pajama bottoms and walked over to the door, Riley obediently following behind me, and as I opened the door he continued to crawl past me, tumbling out onto the ground. 

"Where to, Daddy?" 

I brought Riley over to the Adirondack chair - my usual diaper-only stargazing spot. I hoped nobody would come through the yard, but I figured my neighbors would roll up with their bass blasting if they came home (unlikely since it was primetime for drug sales) and my landlord, who lived next door, worked at a bar from 6 until 2. 

It was dead quiet, except for some traffic noise. I reached down, put my arms underneath Riley's armpits, and pulled him up onto my lap. He somehow managed to get his legs around me and I leaned back, letting him fall onto me. We lay there, me watching the stars and Riley laying up against me with his eyes closed. I could feel him go limp, and I rubbed his back. We lay there for more than an hour just like that. 

After I while I felt Riley's diaper get warm. He was wetting. I almost said something, but thought better of it. Riley didn't speak, either. He just flooded it and remained silent, every once in a while letting out a yawn and stretching or shifting positions a little. 

We continued to lay there. I saw a few shooting stars. I wanted to turn Riley over so that he could see, but I could tell that he was uber-comfy, and I didn't want to ruin that. We just chilled there for a long time. Eventually I noticed that Riley's diaper had gone cold. I asked him if he was sleeping - he hadn't made a sound in an hour or so - and he just shook his head no. 

"I need some coffee, Baby Boy," I told him. He looked up at me. 

"Okay, Daddy." 

"I'm going to go to McDonalds to get it," I told him. "It's like a mile from here. Wanna go for a ride?" 

"Yes, Daddy!" 

I was almost getting used to being called Daddy. I went into the house, grabbed my keys, and locked the door. 

"Follow me," I said. I walked past the gate and opened it, and Riley crawled past. I looked around for neighbors, but there were none. He crawled right up to my car and sat his bottom down by the passenger door. I unlocked the doors and opened the back door. 

"Car seat, Daddy?" 

"Kind of," I told him. I handed him the pajamas bottoms. "Put these on." 

"Wahhhhh!" Riley was pretending to cry. I can't even begin to explain how adorable it was in words on a blog, so I won't. But trust: it was fucking adorable. Somehow I'd gotten emboldened by the fact that we'd been outside for more than three hours with Riley in nothing but a diaper. That, and his courage to crawl around a strange yard, diapered, made me say fuck it. I snapped and pointed and he got in. I buckled his seatbelt and handed him the jammies. 

"If we get pulled over or something, put these on," I directed him. 

"Why, Daddy?" he asked in an angelic tone. I just looked at him very seriously, and be burst out giggling. "I mean okay, Daddy! Okay, I will!" 

I drove him to McDonalds. It was crowded - it was the hangout spot on weekend nights since it was the only place in our part of the city open all night. I watched Riley in my rearview mirror. He was sucking on his pacifier and smiling, but as we got closer he saw gangstas chilling by their cars and I could see him grow nervous. As a joke I pulled into a parking spot. 

"C'mon, Baby Boy," I said, and opened my door. I could see the look of surprise come across his face. 

"We're going IN?" 

"Just kidding," I said. I closed my door and started to back up, but people walked up behind me to go to the car in the next parking spot. A woman peered into our car. I was pretty sure that she could see Riley, and I wondered if she could see his diaper. It was hot and a lot of people had their shirts off. His diaper might pass for shorts.

"I wonder if she saw my diaper?" Riley asked. I could tell that he was actually happy about the possibility. I knew that, in a few minutes, the people at the drive-thru might. I wondered if this was a bad idea. 

"Bout to go to the window," I told him, backing up. "Might wanna put on those jammies." 

"I'll just put them over me," he replied. I wasn't sure what he meant, but I looked back as he draped them over his diaper area. 

"Great. Now it looks like you just don't have pants on. They'll call 9-1-1 for sure..." 

They didn't. The woman did look back at him, but seemed indifferent. She gave me my coffee, and the hot chocolate I'd ordered for Riley. I poured his into a baby bottle right in front of the window and handed it back to him. He hadn't noticed the bottle, and kind of yelped a little. 

"Thanks, Daddy!" 

It honestly seemed like Riley had slipped completely into his role. He sat in the back of my car, in nothing but a diaper (and emergency jammy bottoms), sucking on a diaper, his paci in his hand. He seemed oblivious to our surroundings. As we rolled up to the exit I could see people looking in, watching Riley slurping on a bottle. Riley saw nothing. His eyes were closed, and I could tell that he was in the zone. It felt great, and I lost any sense of nervousness I'd had. 

We drove up and down OBT for a little bit. Riley finished his bottle and started to notice what was around us. Prostitutes. Prostitutes in drag. Prostitutes fighting with other prostitutes. Homeless people. Drug dealers. Bouncers outside a strip club. 

"Wow, Daddy." Riley finally spoke up. I figured he was going to point out some crazy sight he'd seen - there is no shortage of crazy on a spring weekend at midnight on Orange Blossom Trail. But that wasn't what had wow'd Riley. "I remember feeling like this when I was a little boy. I'd ride in the back of my father's car. He'd take us out on nights that we couldn't sleep, and just drive us around. I'd be there in my jammies, drinking a bottle..." 

His voice trailed off. 

"What happened to your Dad, Riley?" I figured I had to ask. 

"He went to prison when I was six." 

Wow... what the fuck. I wasn't even sure how to respond. 

"How long was he in for?" 

"He's not coming out." 

I could tell Riley was sad now, and I was irritated that I'd ruined the positive vibe with a question. It turned out that I needn't worry - Riley had been hoping to turn the conversation around to his father - or lack of one. Because, as we drove up and down OBT, Riley began to tell me what life had been like after his Dad went to prison. He told me about his mother struggling, and never being home for several years in a row. And about being left with babysitters, one of whom had believed any child staying overnight in her home should be dressed in a GoodNite, in case of emergencies. He told me about how his stepfather had come onto the scene when he was about 13, and how Riley had hoped and prayed that the man would serve as a stand-in for his own father - and how disappointed he'd been when that hadn't happened. 

"I tried to get his attention, but he didn't care about me," Riley told me. "He cared about his two kids. Once he told me that he had to accept me because I came along as a package with my Mom. I know he wasn't trying to be mean, but that's how he felt. He had to accept me..." 

"I'm sure he realizes you're a good kid," I told Riley. I was trying to make him feel better. He barely noticed that I spoke... he was pouring his heart out, now. 

"I tried to get his attention by doing stuff for him, but he'd just tell my mother how my stepbrothers were so helpful, and they'd never say that it was me who'd done it. Then I tried to get interested in stuff he was interested in. Model trains. He loves model trains. I asked him once if I could help him set one up, and he told me NO, RILEY... TRAINS ARE MY THING. Meanwhile he kept trying to get his own kids into trains, but they didn't care about them." 

"Sounds like he just doesn't get it," I offered, trying to be helpful. Riley ignored me. 

"I even tried to be bad," he told me. "I think I only got suspended from school because I wanted him to notice me. I wanted him to spank me, ground me, yell at me - to do something. All he did was tell me that I was a disappointment to my mother - and that if I wasn't careful I'd wind up like my dad. That hurt like hell, man." 

Now Riley was quiet. I could tell he'd finished his story. I tried to find the words, but couldn't. So we just drove along silently, watching crazy shit out the windows. I figured, if nothing else, Riley was getting to feel nostalgic for a little bit. 

"I definitely want a spanking before you send me packing," he said.

I looked back at him. I knew he'd mentioned this on the phone, but I was still taken aback.

He seemed like far too nice a kid to want to be spanked.

He'd just tugged at my heart by spilling his history, and I wanted to hug him, not spank him. 

"I'm not sure about that, Riley," I told him. 

"I am." He looked at me, kind of defiantly. We were getting closer to home. I kept a paddle handy for all occasions, but I could not for the life of me see me using it on this kid!

"You seem like too good of a kid for a spanking, bro," I said. I meant it - quite honestly, I'd diapered more than 100 people, and Riley seemed like one of the nicest I'd ever met. 

"I'm not. I'm naughty, Daddy." 

"Yea right." 

Riley was kind of smiling now, a little slyly. I hoped that he wouldn't jump out of the car at a red light or something. I could see him trying to earn his spanking on the mile we had left before we got home. I doublechecked to make sure the doors were locked. 

"I am, I'm naughtier than you could imagine." 

"Tell me something you did today that was naughty," I demanded. Riley stopped to think, and I could see he was at a loss. 

"Well, today has been a good day," he told me.

"Did you speed here?" I asked him. 

"No!" he yelped. "I always drive the speed limit. 

"Did you go through any stoplights? Roll past any stop signs?" 

"Are you crazy?" Riley almost shouted. "I'm one of the safest drivers I know!" 

"You're not making this easy," I told him. "Did you cheat on any tests in school this semester?" He shook his head. "Did you get any grades lower than a C last semester?" He held up his fingers: 4.0. "Dude... you're going to have to give me something...." 

"I know!" Riley cried out. "I did not vote in the last election!" 

I had to laugh. That was about the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard - the idea of spanking someone for not voting. Still, the last election had been big news - Obama had just been elected president five months before. I'd seen Riley posting political stuff on MySpace. I could tell that, to him, not voting was a serious offense. 

"So you didn't do your civic duty?" I asked him. He shook his head solemnly. "You had the opportunity to make a difference - to vote for a candidate for president - and you didn't?" He kind of shook his head. "Well, that's it, Riley... inside." 

We'd pulled into the driveway and stopped the car. I got out, walked around to the other side of the car, and opened Riley's door. He already had his seatbelt out and he eagerly stepped out of the car. I picked him up as I originally had, tossing him over my shoulder, and carried him to the house. He dropped his pajama bottoms, but I didn't go back for them. I'd get them in the morning... it was time for a spanking. 

"Stand still," I ordered. Then, as Riley stood in front of me, I put my hands on the waistband of his Cushie, yanked it down, and pulled it underneath his feet. Even outside in the fresh air the scent of urine and baby powder was pungent. Riley sniffed and giggled. I wanted to hug him again. 

I won't lie - I sometimes love giving a good spanking, but this wasn't one of those times. I pulled the paddle out of the drawer, walked over to the bed, and set Riley down in perfect paddling position. 

"You know that there are people in countries that don't even get to vote?" I asked him. "Libya. North Korea. Cuba." 

WHACK!

"And how about the millions of disenfranchised Americans who can't vote in our country because they have felonies?" 

WHACK!

"Like my Dad..." 

WHACK!!!

Riley yelped a little, but was mostly silent. His whole body was trembling, and I hoped that I wasn't spanking him too hard - he seemed like a sensitive kid, and I had no doubt his bottom was sensitive, like the rest of him. 

"I'm disappointed, Riley," I told him sternly. "You have a lot of elections in your future. Are you going to miss another one?"

Riley shook his head vigorously. I felt ridiculous even saying it, but I wound up and gave his bottom three more hard - very hard - smacks. 

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Riley was still trembling. I leaned over him, putting my hand on his butt. It was warm as fuck! I could see it turning red. I hoped there wouldn't be any bruising. 

"Do you have anything you'd like to say for yourself?" I asked him. 

"Is that it?" he asked me. He sounded disappointed. 

"I think that's enough of a punishment for not voting," I told him. "Unless you did something else that is spank-worthy, it's fifteen minutes in the corner and then you're done." 

"What if I left something out?" he asked me. I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Outside? Hmm...

"What did you leave out?" I asked him. 

"I wasn't old enough to vote in the last election," he told me. He started to giggle. "I turned 18 on December 1st. I couldn't vote. I wanted to, but... I couldn't." 

I could tell that Riley was proud of himself - he'd tricked me into giving him a spanking. He was grinning from ear to ear, now, and he turned around to sit down on the bed and enjoy his victory. I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him back onto the bed. 

"That's worth a few more." 

I whacked away, and Riley spend his time in the corner trembling. I could see that something about that spanking had really gotten to him. I hoped that he didn't have any regrets... 

After about fifteen minutes I picked Riley up from behind and carried him over to the bed. I was lucky he was so light and portable haha. I lay him down, pulled out a small Attends (a little blue diaper), and put it on him. He had a huge smile on his face, and I could tell that he'd loved every minute of the spanking I'd given him. 

"Bedtime or a few more minutes of stargazing?" 

"Stars!" Riley yelped, and without being told bounded onto the floor and crawled across to the door, waiting for me to open it. I did, and he tumbled onto the ground again, crawling over to the door. This time I ordered him to sit on my lap. I was still dressed, but I could feel his tight li'l bum on my lap. It felt good, but for as much as I enjoy a hot diapered ass on me, something was different about this... I actually felt, for a minute, like I had a little kid on my lap. I knew there would be none of the usual diaper humping tonight... this was, for me, about making Riley feel babyish. I could tell it was working.

I leaned back in the chair, put my arms around him, and sort of hugged him from behind; he leaned back and looked up. Within a minute our eyes had adjusted. And, another minute later, a falling star arc'd through the sky. 

"Daddy! I saw one!" 

Riley squealed so loudly I was sure anyone within half a mile could hear him. I tried to shush him, to no avail. "I saw one, Daddy! A shooting star! I saw one!" 

"If you watch you'll see a lot more," I told him. He grew quiet and continued watching. A few minutes later another flew across the sky. He was quiet, but began pumping his fist. I had to laugh. 

Riley was shivering. It wasn't cold out, but he was only wearing a diaper, and he was small... 

"Are you cold, bro?" I asked him. He looked at me, confused, and shook his head. "I just wondered, because you're shivering..." 

"No I'm not," he told me. Then he grew quiet and I could see that he sensed it too. "Oh, that... no, Daddy, I'm just shaking. That happens when stuff like this happens." 

"Stuff like what?" I asked him. 

"Like me being this happy." 

I could tell that he meant it. We continued to chill in the chair, and after a while I saw headlights cut through the yard and heard a car pull into the driveway. 

"Wow, Riley... it's already 3 a.m. That's the landlord. Time to get inside." 

 "Yes, Daddy!" Riley flopped from my lap onto the ground and scampered across the lawn. No sooner had he gone inside than I heard the landlord fumbling with the gate. 

"Under the covers!" I whispered. He obeyed. The landlord came walking around the corner and looked surprised to see me outside. 

"I think you dropped some laundry," he told me. He had the jammies in his hands, and he handed them to me. "Superman. Always loved Superman as a kid." 

Close call! A few minutes before he would have walked into the yard to find me sitting in the lawn chair with a little diaperboy on my lap.

I locked the door, turned off the light, and crawled into bed next to Riley. He pulled himself up next to me and draped an arm and a leg over me, pulling me tightly to him. 

He was still trembling. 

I rubbed his back and, within a few minutes I could hear him start to snore softly. I was asleep just a few minutes later. 

The next morning I awoke to find Riley whispering on his phone. He sounded like he was arguing with someone. I heard him swear - I hadn't heard that before - and then he hung up. 

"Oh, you're up?" he asked me, seeming surprised. "Sorry, Daddy... I'll watch my mouth. But I was trying to get some more time, and Roger says he needs the car." 

Roger? 

"My stepfather." 

"You were trying to get more time for... this?" 

"Yes. I told them my friends wanted me to hang out all day. But I really wanted to hang out here. I had so much fun last night..." 

His voice trailed off, and I thought back to all that had happened. We'd ridden up and down OBT at 2 a.m.; I'd spanked him, and we'd stargazed well into the morning hours. It all seeemed... surreal. 

"I wanted to stay today, maybe get put down for a nap or something. Maybe eat some baby food... I don't know." 

"How long do you have?" I asked him. 

"Now," he told me. I could hear how disappointed he sounded. "They say they need me back now." 

Just then his phone rang. He answered it, and argued with his mother for several minutes, getting more and more excited. Just as he began to curse I reached over and gave him a hard smack across his bottom. He looked at me with a look of surprise, but then nodded. 

"I'll be there in a little bit, Mom," he told her. They hung up. "I'm really sorry, Daddy," he told me. I'd gotten used to him calling me Daddy, and while I wouldn't exactly be throwing the term up onto any diaper sites any time soon, it kind of felt like it fit. 

"What are you sorry for, Riley?" I asked him. I'd stopped him from swearing with a quick slap on the rear. 

"I'm sorry that I can't stay. I wanted to stay all day today. Fuck Disney World!" He cringed like he expected a spanking, but I could only laugh. 

"How bout this... the next time you come through Orlando you come back to visit me?" 

"Oh, yes!" Riley yelped. I could tell that he was excited about just the idea.

"And when you get here, I'll owe you a spanking." 

Riley's smile grew huge. He looked confused, but happy at the same time. 

"Why, Daddy?" 

"Because I was thinking last night... you've been on some of the diaper sites for almost a year. But you just turned 18 in December..." 

"Uh oh." 

"Me and your bottom have business to attend to. And until then, no more lies." 

"I promise, Daddy." 

With that Riley lay down on the bed and put his feet in the air. I peeled off his wet diaper, wadded it up, and tossed it into the trash. 

"One for the road?" I asked him. 

"Sure!" 

I dressed Riley in the quietest diaper I could find - a generic that I knew wouldn't hold much liquid but would be incognito for his return to his family's hotel room. I told him not to wet in it, and he giggled/yelped the same way he had so many times the night before. 

"My family doesn't know about me and diapers," he told me. "I won't wet it, I promise." 

I pulled Riley's jeans up and waited for him to button them up. He picked up his underpants and turned to me. 

"Can I take the pajamas with me?" he asked. 

"Sure, but... uh... you didn't even wear them," I pointed out. 

"But I carried them on my lap the whole time we were driving around in your car," he told me. "I'll never forget them. Is it okay?" 

I picked them up and put them in his hands. Of course it was okay. 

I walked him to his car. He turned to me and, without a word, gave me the hugest hug I've ever gotten. He held me tightly for more than a minute. 

"You don't know how much this meant to me," he told me. 

"Me too," I said. 

"No. You don't understand. You've diapered so many people. I've only been diapered by one. And you made me feel exactly how I wanted to feel. So, thank you." 

Before I could say anything else Riley got into the car and shut the door. He looked at me as he started the car, and then continued to look as he backed out of the driveway. Then, he drove away. 

I've diapered, babysat, and/or chilled with a shit ton of people in our community. 

Most are visiting Orlando for various events: family vacations, college trips, work functions, expos. 

Sometimes people leave and I never hear from them again. 

Most of them time they hit me up to let me know that they had a good time. 

Sometimes I get a really nice email message. 

Riley wrote a fucking novel. 

Later that day I opened an email from Riley on my iPhone. It was long - pages and pages long. I had to go to my laptop and fire it up to really be able to read it. It was still pages long, even on the computer. 

I'd like to post its contents here, but it contains far too much personal information about Riley - who some of you know by his actual name. So I won't. 

But I will say that Riley did a very good job of explaining why he is trapped in diapers (his words), why he finds such comfort in feeling like a baby (his words, again), and how being able to actually experience being babied had changed his life (again, his words). 

The words that will always stay with me are these: 

"I've remembered the good times I had with my dad since the day he went away, and I've wanted to recreate them so badly that it sometimes hurt. You don't know it, but in everything you did, from the diaper, to the spanking, to giving me a bottle, to driving me around in the back seat of your car - even just taking me outside to look at the stars - you helped me recreate moments that I was robbed of. I cannot thank you enough." 

He asked me to promise that I would make time to babysit him any time he came to Orlando. 

Of course, I did. 

And, that I wouldn't just make him another diaperboy visitor - that I'd actually follow up with him. 

I said yes to that, too. 

I knew what Riley wanted - he wanted me to be an actual Daddy stand-in. 

I felt like it was a privilege to do it. 

Let's just say that, in the four years following, Riley flew through school with a 4.0. 

I got regular text updates. 

I got to see scanned and emailed grade reports. 

When he graduated from college in 2012, I saw an invitation to the ceremony in my mailbox. 

And, in 2010, 2011, and 2013 I got to see Riley again. 

At one point, on a subsequent spring break visit, I told him that, if I were lucky enough to have a son, I'd want him to be exactly like Riley. 

And I meant it, 100%. 

I told him that his stepfather was fucking insane for not noticing Riley. For not wanting him to help with his train set. For not seeing the value that having a son like Riley was worth.

Riley hugged me as tight after hearing that as he had the first time we'd parted.

In any of the three visits after that first one I never gave Riley another spanking. 

He'd made it a point to try to impress me with his academics and good choices the whole year in between - finding something stupid to spank him for seemed pointless. 

He was disappointed the first time I told him I didn't want to spank him. But by the time he left that year he told me he'd gotten over it. 

"You don't know what it means to know that someone out there cares about you," he told me. "To have a father figure after years of not having a father at all... it's like I have a reason to be good, now." 

Riley is 23, now, and is doing an internship. It finishes around springtime, and he's hoping to make it to Florida for a fifth visit. He's looking at graduates schools, including some in Florida. Needless to say, I'm proud as hell.

A lot has changed since the visit, for me, too. I am five years older, as well. And, five years later, believe it or not, I'm growing more comfortable with taking on the 'daddy' role.

I'll always prefer to be the 'sitter' or 'big bro.' 

I'll never like how old being called 'daddy' makes me feel. 

But I do see the value in being a father figure, and, if Riley is to be believed, I'm damn good at it. 

So if that means that my getting-old ass has to be called 'Daddy' sometimes... well, fuck it. 

If it means as much to whoever I'm babying as it did to Riley, it's 100% worth it. 

Daddy Cwis

[Photos courtesy of Ronikat - aka Baby Robby]

Note: Baby Robby is not the subject of this story.