Exposed: America's Most Disgusting Fraternity!

I know that there are people in our community who hate me because I've spent the past eight years advocating for a community that is "18+". 

When my blog was new, community members offended by the 18+ used to hit me up fairly regularly to defend their own past practices of mixing minors with adults. I heard all of the arguments, from "it isn't porn unless there's nudity involved" to "if we don't take them under our wing, someone with bad intentions will." 

I didn't budge on my position, and over time the community members I heard from at first became the community members I saw posting "18+" on their own content, as well. 

Still, there were haters amongst the responsible community members. 

I saw you, haters... 

I once had a friend tell me that people were making fun of me on a chat on a popular AB/DL website. He didn't provide additional information, but I clicked into the chat, only to read a few "LOL"'s - but nothing more. I wrote back to tell him that nobody had said anything about me when I entered, and he reminded me that - duh - they wouldn't say it with me in the chatroom. He offered me his login information, and I took him up on it, entering as him a few minutes later. Sure enough, the conversation was all about "ABYSitter, the 18 and up Nazi". And it was people I'd thought were (online) friends - and standup members of the community - doing the shit talking. 

Another time I met with a young man in his early 20s who, over lunch, confided that he'd been wearing diapers with community members/groups since he was in his early teens. I realized this kid was fucked up and having some regrets, and put him on a bus bound for the west coast, where his parents were. The trip cost me nearly $200, minus a Greyhound credit I'd had on hand. I've sponsored contests and bought tons of diapers, and even paid straight non-ABDLs to wear for me, but the money I spent that day was probably some of the best money I've ever spent related to diapers. I knew when I bought the ticket that drama would follow - and it did - but it was worth it to me. 18+

I've posted so many "Hall of Shame" posts over the years, each reminding people to "keep it 18+". These posts chronicle the many community members who have gotten into trouble for forgetting how important not involving minors is - or not getting consent from other adults. For every person who tells me that they think these posts are important, it seems like there is another person who lets me know that I should stop posting them... the age of consent is different in their state or Canada... nothing sexual is going on with these minors they're chatting with... there's nothing illegal about wearing diapers with people, no matter the age... the list of excuses goes on and on. 

I've decided to keep on with the 18+ posts, regardless of who's with me or against me. No regrets, either. I believe that the culture of our community has changed over the past decade, and while I certainly don't give credit to the writings in my blog, enough people have let me know that they first saw it discussed on these pages to indicate that my blog has had a positive impact regarding it. 

I've talked to a number of collegebabies who have thanked me for blogging, admitting that they read this blog in high school but never contacted me out of respect for the 18+ requirement. Some of them have stories about others in the community having no such rules. One was upset because pictures he took as a minor, sharing with his "daddy", were publicly posted and shared hundreds of times on Tumblr. He wasn't as upset by the breach of his privacy as he was about having introduced what amounts of child porn to our community. He contacted me to apologize for not following the 18+ rule himself, something that meant a lot to me. 

I wish it meant as much to some of the others out in our community collecting young boys at every turn, not checking IDs, and even giving 'extra points' for those under 18 in some cases. I've been contacted by people under 18 many times, and my answer is always the same: 

   1. I don't F with people under 18. 

   2. That includes simply talking about diapers. 

   3. Regardless, you are a valued member of the community. 

   4. Lurking is OK until you're 18 - don't share, and beware those who ask you to. 

   5. I've been apart of this community a while, and look forward to welcoming you to it. 

   5b. Promise me you'll wait until you turn 18 to join. 

I include that last bullet point because I know that there are people in our community one might call 'diaper snipers' - they're here to watch for signs of young life, and try to snatch it up for their collections. This might include being a boy's first diaper experience, or adding boys to the list of boys they control, or collecting photos, or - well, you name it, and people will do it. 

This isn't meant to be a blog entry exposing our community's worst. 

It is, however, an explanation of why I've been so staunch of the 18+ posts, and why - even though younger people are going to be a part of our community anyway, and the age of consent is lower in some states and countries, and [insert lame-ass excuse here], I stay nazi on that age ruling. 

It's because I came up before the age of the internet. 

And because my first-ever introduction to the fact that there even was a community of adult diaper lovers was an exposé in Penthouse Magazine on a group of pedophiles who called themselves DPF. 

The year was 1991. I was a high school student. My best friend, Mark, had left a Penthouse magazine in my car, later telling me to read it - suggesting there was something in the magazine I would like. 

I'd felt hurt, at the time - Mark and I had spent much of our junior high and high school careers 'wrastling' to see who could pants each other, skinny dipping, and even spooning each other as we slept at night. Now he'd presented me with a hetero porno mag - and told me that I'd like it? What was that all about? 

READ MARK'S STORY - "BEST FRIENDS" PART I

READ MARK'S STORY - "BEST FRIENDS" PART II

READ MARK'S STORY - "BEST FRIENDS" PART III

It turned out that what Mark thought I would 'like' was an article on something called Diaper Pail Fraternity. 

DPF, the article explained, was a group of men who communicated through a monthly newsletter - and by mail - about their love for diapers. 

Somehow Mark had discovered my secret - and this, it seemed, was his way of letting me know he knew I loved diapers without having to speak the words. 

The problem was, the story in the magazine he'd left in my car was an exposé on 'America's Most Disgusting Fraternity' - and it centered around an FBI investigation into a network of pedophiles who, in the 1980s and early 1990s, used DPF for the purpose of networking to share child pornography and even set up experiences with boys as young as toddler age. 

Mark would later explain that he knew I wasn't interested in young boys. 

He'd read the article through the lense of someone with a best friend who was interested in diapers. 

But as I read it - still in my formative binge/purge stages - I couldn't help but immediately be ashamed of myself, and my diaper identity. Our 'community', it seemed, wanted nothing more than to meet up with little boys in the backs of vans, and make videos of them smashing their poop in their underwear. 

Yes, it was that disgusting... 

The article was written by an investigative reporter named Shaun Assael. He spent a lot of time talking to FBI agents, and looking through evidence. (Side note: Mr. Assael now heads up investigative reporting for ESPN, and writes stories on doping, FIFA, and other sporting-related topics.) His article, of course, was written from the perspective of someone who doesn't understand who we are, or why we like what we like. But it was primarily fact-based - and the facts did not make us look good, at all. 

The article followed the story of one Donald Salata - a University of Wisconsin graduate student who specialized in children who have trouble moving their bowels, according to the article. Mr. Salata, it seems, ran something of a mobile potty training service out of the back of his van - and parents trusted him to take their difficult-to-train children and find the secrets to potty training. 

In 1989 someone saw something that looked suspicious, and said something: they called the police and reported what might be child molestation occurring in the back of a Ford Econoline. A sheriff's deputy pulling up on scene found Salata, a young boy, and a tape recorder and video camera - Salata had just made recordings and video of the boy urinating and defecating in his diaper. In addition, the deputy would find numerous DPF newsletters, as well as letters from men who got Salata's contact information from the group. 

Investigators would find child pornography being traded by group members - three people were arrested and convicted shortly after Salata's mobile potty training service was discovered, and at least ten other suspects were named. At one point the FBI investigation included more than thirty agents, and the investigation became so large and unwieldy that they had to meet as a group at the Hyatt Regency in Kansas City, MO to discuss the case, convention style. 

(Note: not sure what the cartoon has to do with the article -

but it was included in the magazine,

and had a permanent imprint on my psyche, so I'm including it here...) 

The article discusses DPF at length, including a bio on founder 'Tommy' - identified in the article as former IT specialist Thomas E. Siegel. 

"The group, based in Sausalito, California, is run by former computer-systems analyst Thomas E. Siegel, known to followers only as Tommy" the article reads. "Siegel has created a mini-industry around infantilism - the retention of childish physical and emotional qualities in adult life. Siegel sells everything from plastic pants to hypnotic tapes that are billed as tools to induce incontinence. His bi-monthly newsletters tout the sensation of wearing diapers and sitting in excrement for long periods of time." 

In Salata's van sheriff's deputies would find more than 100 letters from fellow DPF members, some of whom addressed their correspondence to "Dirty Don" or "Poopy Pants." These responses - at least one thanking Salata for sending photos of the little boy in the van - appeared to clinch the case: Salata would be arrested on federal and local charges. Astonishingly, the parent of one of the children Salata cared for would contribute to his bail, after he wrote her a letter that included the following information:

"I was enuretic [subject to involuntary urinary discharge] nightly until age eight and ... sporadically for years afterward. What's more, I had a real jealousy of my twin brother and a real attachment to my night diapers. I had this emotional or psychological need for quite some time on into adolescence. I began to collect everything I could find that catered to this group - stories, products, etc. ... I tried to work with children and adolescents." 

The truth is, Salata's story closely mirrors mine, and many others in our community. 

Right up until the "trying to work with children and adolescents" part. 

DPF seems to have been a free-for-all at one point, with ABies and DLs and pedophiles all thrown into the same mixture, and one man - Tommy - left to do his best to sort it all out. 

The Penthouse article shows that membership in DPF was a magnet for pedophiles. 

And that our community at one point had very little ground rules when it came to the inclusion of minors - both children and teenagers - in our activities. 

The article goes on to describe the arrest of a noted abortion doctor, Dr. Milan Chepko, a frequent target of abortion activists who reportedly turned to age regression to cope with the stress. 

He also made and distributed videos, including one he sent to Salada in trade: it started with a close-up of an infant's anus, and cutting away to Chepko defecating, spreading the feces across his body, and then masturbating. 

According to Chepko's attorney: 

"They frightened him. He felt at risk physically and couldn't cope with the fear until it reached paralysis. When you're at the bottom, when your image is totally destroyed, what's the most degrading thing you can do? It's what he's charged with..." 

I remember being a high school student, reading this article, and feeling my face burn with shame and humiliation at hearing those words. 

I'd play them over and over in my head for a long time afterward. 

"What's the most degrading thing you can do? It's what he's charged with..." 

In my young and sheltered mind, the idea that these two men - and likely some of the others - were both pedophiles and infantilists ... well, that never really registered. 

These two men were me, I told myself. 

I liked what they liked. 

Certainly, you'd think, even a high school student struggling with his identity as both gay and a diaper enthusiast could discern the difference between pedophilia and a love for diapers. 

But you'd have to remember that there was no internet then. 

There was no 'community' - save for the DPF world I'd just been introduced to. 

I still had no fucking idea why I liked to wear diapers. 

And this article, in the form of a Penthouse expose on DPF, was the first real evidence that I wasn't alone. 

The trouble was, it linked infantilism with infants. 

And I didn't understand enough to know that the two aren't actually linked together. 

It was my best friend's offer to wear a diaper with me a few weeks after I read this that ended what would be my only real 'purge'. 

I'd been quietly throwing away the adult diapers I'd only recently discovered and purchased, and anything else that had to do with this 'diaper fetish' - including my thoughts - was being deeply hidden or discarded. 

I was ashamed of my love for diapers for the first time. And it sucked. 

Mark, though, had no belief whatsoever that my interest in wearing diapers had anything to do with children, and told me so. 

He also explained how he came to learn that I liked diapers - something he'd found out at just about the time this magazine had been published, coincidentally - and he told me that he understood why - even though he'd later admit that he didn't. 

"I'll let you put one on me," Mark had offered. "I just turned 17 last week... so I'm legal hehe... let's explore this thing together." 

In the end Mark would decline to wear an actual diaper, instead presenting me with a pair of his father's tighty whiteys he'd cut to fit like a cloth diaper. It still made for one of the hottest moments ever in little Chris's sexual awakening, and was a memory I'd treasure forever. (Click the links above to read more of the story). 

Still, as I lay next to my best friend, wearing a diaper - with him in his makeshift cloth diaper with diaper pins - we discussed diapers and why I might like them so much. 

Today I present myself as an expert, of sorts, on the subject. 

But as a teen I had no idea. 

I'll never forget, though, the importance of feeling like I needed to stress that it didn't have to do with actual children. 

I remember my face burning with rage at the people profiled in the Penthouse article, and their actions - actions that had lead to all of us being painted with the same brush by anyone who read it. 

Dr. Chepko's advertisement in the DPF newsletter had sought out "Fantasies of young boys who wet the best with diapers or underpants. Home videos to loan or trade." 

And while Tommy did his best to explain that the "young boys" part so often thrown around was supposed to be a fantasy many infantilists would use to imagine themselves in the 'young boy' role, the truth seemed to be that the network was as much a clearinghouse for child pornography as it was for anything else. 

I remember discovering DPF.com when I was in college, years later. 

It was an obvious extension of the 1980s era DPF, except now, instead of the 'Diaper Pail Fraternity', it had become 'Diaper Pail Friends.' 

I'll write more about my experiences with this, our community's first official 'place to play' on the web, in a future blog entry. Let's just say that the importance of remaining vigilant about 18+ never went away; some of my first contacts on the website were from people who were looking to trade in child porn. It was a far different world than the community we've become today. But it gradually morphed into a fairly safe space for ABDLs to meet, and it's really the precursor to the community we are today. By its end, when other community spaces eclipsed it, it bore little resemblance to the organization profiled in the Penthouse piece. 

I wrote this blog entry because I recently met a college student who expressed that, while he loved my blog and respected me for "putting yourself out there like that," he also had "a bone to pick" with me - because my blog had made it impossible for him to find a daddy while he was underage. 

He told me that he'd tried, and failed, to locate a daddy for several years. Two or more of the people he'd reached out to, he said, sarcastically told him that they'd love to do it, but that they didn't want to get on "Abysitter's Hall of Shame" - or words to that effect. 

Why, he wanted to know, was I forever going on and on about 18+. 

Didn't I realize that marginalized young ABDL's just coming up into our community? 

Didn't I think that my "exclusion" of them might make them feel like "pariahs" - like they are evil, dirty, and etc.? 

Who was I to think that I should have "control over" what people do and don't do? 

I realized, while we were talking, that I've done a shit ton of 18+ posts, but not very many that explain it in detail. Part of me, probably, thought that it needed no explanation. But I see, now, that it does. 

I should have realized this when the debate on the Race Car diapers was raging back in 2011 - the idea of a company using minor children in its diaper catalogs smacked of pedophilia to many in our community, but was defended by far more than I ever would have thought. I was occupied with some pretty heady shit then, and didn't post anything on it, but I did read a number of discussion on the subject, and backed up Todaler's position on it on RUPadded.com. That's when I received a batch of responses telling me I was wrong and our community should be inclusive of all ages lol - I should have blogged about this then, but didn't. 

I'll blog more about it in the future, but let this entry be my introduction to it. 

I'm passionate about 18+ because, in 1991, when I was still underage myself, my first realization that there was anyone besides me into diapers came in the form of a Penthouse Magazine article that linked our community with the pedophilia once rampant in it. 

I don't ever want my face to burn like that again. 

If we want to be able to say with certainty that we are a community that does not involve children in our fantasies, we need to keep it all 18+, all the time: photos, meetups, stories, and events. 

I am proud to call myself a member of this community, and prouder still that, over the years, incidences of inappropriateness appear to be on the decline. 

Anyone who is under 18 and waiting to join us has my profound respect if they do just that: wait. 

Everyone who works to convince them of that has my profound respect, as well. 

Our community, in its many forms and variations, has existed since at least 1980, according to this article. 

That's 35+ years of diapering. 

We're not going anywhere. 

There is no reason anyone under 18 can't wait to join in on the action, and the fun, until they turn 18. 

For the little dude who took me to task for ruining things for him - I suspect by the end of our conversation he understood that what I'd been trying to do was help him.

Just in case, here's my entry on the article that I referenced, as promise. 

PLEASE SHARE THIS

WITH ANY COMMUNITY MEMBERS

(18+ LOL)

WHO ARE UNCLEAR ON WHY

IT'S SO FUCKING IMPORTANT

THAT WE KEEP IT ALL

(ALL ALL ALL!) 

18+

CWIS

I'm interested in hearing from anyone else who saw this old article, either when it was first released or later over the years. Did anyone else have this ugliness as their first real introduction to our community? Email me: abysitter@gmail.com. 

Mindblown Moments...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Diaper Daze: Comix by ABDaddyMike

[ARTWORK COPYRIGHT dadaincali@yahoo.com]

[DO NOT REDISTRIBUTE WITHOUT PERMISSION]

I did a survey in 2011 and tried to find out, among other things, the demographics behind my blog. 

Who my readers are. 

Where they come from. 

What they're into. 

Why they come to Abysitter.com. 

And, among other facts, how old they are. 

What I found surprised me. 

More than 100 of you responded. 

44% of you were college aged. 

Only 23% of you were over 30. 

None of you were under 18 (as I'd hoped would be the case), or older than 65 (which surprised me). 

My readership - or at least my readership that takes surveys - was fairly young. 

I wondered what had happened to all of the older ABDLs out there. 

Had they not gravitated toward the internet? 

Did they not read my blog? 

Or did they just not take surveys?

I wasn't sure. 

I came into our fetish before there was a real "community." 

The internet actually existed before I started college - but I hadn't discovered it yet. 

In my first year of college, almost nobody had it. 

In year two, my college made it available to all students. And I got my first computer. 

Still, at home I had access to some cheap, dumbed-down version of the internet. All text, no pictures. 

At the beginning of the next year I discovered my college's computer lab - complete with the newest computers, and access to the internet and printers. 

Shortly thereafter, I discovered search engines. 

Like many of you, on a whim I began searching for terms like "diaper". 

And I was stunned by what I found. 

Diaper fetish has existed for ages. If I understand the reasons behind our love for diapers correctly, I'm quite certain it's existed since a few years after the first babies ever to wear diapers were taken out of them. That would be around the 1890s, if my knowledge of diaper history is correct. I picture World War I and II veterans hiding cloth diapers in the trenches, and young people throughout the decades discovering their love for diapers the same way we did. 

Except, for many years, young people with a longing desire to be returned to diapers felt like most of us did growing up: weird... different... sick. 

They could have no way of knowing how common their feelings for diapers are. Today we know that there are literally thousands of people who identify as AB, DL, or some variant of the above. But back then, it's likely that every single one of the people into diapers thought that they were totally alone. 

In the decades before the internet was becoming commonplace our community was beginning to take shape. At some point a man named "Tommy" started an organization called DPF - Diaper Pail Fraternity. It consisted of a newsletter that was mailed to members, and a personals system that allowed members to write to each other; the letters would be mailed from DPF headquarters and, if a connection was made, members would make the jump to an actual phone call. (Makes Skyping on a moment's notice seem pretty fucking radical, right?) It was a different world.

Members would find out about DPF by reading ads placed in sex magazines and other places. You younger ABDLs probably remember the first time you discovered a diaper website online, right? Our older generation has similar memories - of the day they found an ad for DPF.

Eventually DPF began to get a bad rap after an article appeared in a national magazine - I think it was Penthouse - about one of its members driving around in a van making children play the "poop smashing game." Yeah, thanks asshole. The individual had some sort of bedwetting clinic in his van, and he managed to convince shitty parents to allow him to treat their children. He wasn't a doctor or anything - just a good judge of really stupid parents. He managed to find quite a few, and when he was finally arrested the police would find many pictures of diapered children in his van. 

This was the way that I discovered we had a community: my best friend in high school (see previous blog entries) left a copy of this magazine in my car and told me to read it. 

Part of the reason I'm so irritated by the members of our community who blur the lines of age appropriateness is because my first discovery of our community was such a negative one. I was embarrassed to think that my friend might think that I was on the verge of opening my own bedwetting clinic. WTF, asshole. 

Anyway, Diaper Pail Fraternity became Diaper Pail Friends, and soon went online. DPF.com was the place to be for adult babies. It provided stories you could buy (they'd ship and mail them to you) and, eventually, regression hypnosis tapes and even ABDL clothing and products. 

It still gave members a place to meet, but it was crude as fuck. You'd search through a long list of members - you could input search terms by typing letters, like "D" for disposable and "P" for poopy diapers. It would bring up all of the members who were into what you were looking for, and you'd then scroll through to find your state, and then look for your city, age range, etc. Back then the internet was so new that a lot of members weren't on it yet, so you'd have two options: email, or mail. Some members were only contactable via the mail, others via mail, and others both. 

I still remember getting mail in my mailbox from DLs. It was a weird, creepy, guilt-inducing feeling for me. Today I exchange dozens of emails a month, but hearing from an actual ABDL back then - wow. Weird feeling. 

DPF.com's drawbacks included that it didn't have any pictures. They did eventually come out with something called BabyClub, where members could pay for a site that included pictures. (I still remember younger people begging me to let them borrow my BabyClub membership login info - and me having to tell them I wasn't a member. I was a starving college kid, wtf.)

Eventually, Dave Warren would start a website called Aby.com. 

Aby.com wasn't a community website, at first. Many of you discovered it after it converted to a community site circa 2004. Before that, it was a site where you could find pictures. And, for those of us just coming into this fetish, it was a motherfucking godsend. 

I remember the day I discovered it. I was in a computer lab at my college. I almost squirted in my pants. Picture after picture of guys in diapers. Picture Tumblr today. Aby.com was so primitive by those standards... just a page with links to other pages, and you'd click on the file name of the picture to see it. But for me, who'd drawn pictures of guys in diapers as a child because I'd never gotten to see any - I was in absolute ABDL heaven. 

Many of the pictures were the kind of pictures you still find if you search for terms like "diaperboy" on Google. They were pictures of frat brothers in diapers. Halloween costumes with adults in diapers. People wearing diapers on a dare.

I remember wondering if these were actual ABDLs. If they were, it was hot. If they weren't, it was... well, fuck it... it was still hot.

Other pictures were obvious fakes. But with such a shortage of diaperboy pics, fakes were acceptable. There were pasties. Some were ridiculously awful. Others were very realistic. The Vincent VanGoo series of pasties, for example: the pictures I first fapped to. I would print pictures of VanGoo's pasties out on the public, shared printer - and just be sure that I was the first person to reach it. (Talk about an adrenaline rush). Then I'd take them home. 

It all seems so ridiculous today... 

In addition to diaper pictures, real and fake, and pasties, there was diaper artwork. 

Some of it was so primitive it would be embarrassing to share it today. People would literally draw pictures of wet and messy diapers in Microsoft Paint and post them online. And, back then, that was considered... hot. 

Other examples of artwork were amazingly realistic. 

And that's where ABDaddyMike comes in. 

 

Back in my early days of internet exploration I discovered ABDaddyMike's comic series, Diaper Daze. It was a comic series about a fraternity full of brothers who forced each other into diapers and engaged in ageplay. It was an era where it was so hard to find actual ageplay pictures online - most diaper pictures still included just hot guys in diapers. So seeing comics of guys in diapers, crying in cribs, confined to playpens, and eating baby food in high chairs - so hot. 

I, of course, inserted myself into the scenes. 

On my little days I was the one sitting in the playpen. 

On my big days I was the one parading babies around campus. 

It allowed me to fantasize about the ageplay scenarios I'd dreamed about, and actually see them in action. 

Today we have YouTube, and XTube, and DiaperTube, and other video sites (and picture sites) for all of that. 

But in the late 1990s and early 2000s we had comics. The Diaperdaze Comix, to be exact.

It was 1995 when Dave Warren created a special site for Daddy Mike's artwork, hosting it on Aby.com where people could buy copies. Mike would later create a website for his photos called Mikey's Nursery, later a Yahoo! group before it was closed by Yahoo! in the early 2000s. 

I recently spotted one of the comics I'd loved so much as a college student on FetLife, and asked if I could share it with you. Mike agreed not only to let me share this one, but to begin digitizing some other examples of his artwork. You'll soon find them here, and on his FetLife page, as well.

 

Anyone interested in contacting him can email him: dadaincali@yahoo.com. 

ABDaddyMike mentioned that one of his concerns is that, in today's world of diaper vidoes and pictures by the thousands on sites like FetLife and Tumblr, ABDL artwork may have lost its relevancy. 

I still say it's hot. 

And for anyone of you younger ABies who might scan across pieces like this looking for pictures to fap to, I just thought you should know your ABDL history. 

Because a decade or two ago, when our community was just starting out online, these comix were the pictures to fap to. 

Enjoy... and stay tuned for more... 

PS - DPF.com is for sale. Asking price: $100,000. Who wants to resurrect it? And has a hundred grand to drop?

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...

[PHOTOS COPYRIGHT ABYSITTER.COM]

[DO NOT REDISTRIBUTE WITHOUT PERMISSION]

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