A Little Slow-mo

Just a throwback with a little slow-mo mixed in: pull-ups with Z on the Luvs Boat. Check out my YouTube Channel... will be updating it more in the near future. 

YouTube

Feeding Time With Z...

Up today, I have some pictures of a recent feeding session on the boat with little Z. 

This was an awesome day, because it marked a couple of firsts... the first time we got to try a cloth diaper, and the first time I actually fed him. We'd talked about both for a while, and got it in, finally, on one of our last overnights on the boat. There, with just the two of us, we enjoyed a bowl filled with Mac n Cheese - Z's favorite - and a baby bottle. 

Love that this kid is willing to let me take pictures of just about everything we do. Enjoy. 

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This kid has my heart... 

Long Weekend With Z

As ABDLs, most of us yearn for two types of connections: connections with our own ‘little’ sides, and connections with each other. 

Some of us will make ABDL connections fairly easily, racking up diaper friends as we go along. We’ll find munch friends. We’ll make con friends. A select few diaper daddies will collect boys like a collection of Pez dispensers. (You know who you are.) We’ll connect all over. 

Others of us, though, will struggle to meet even one other person. Our own shyness, maybe mixed with shame, may prevent us from reaching out. Or maybe we’ll reach out and make contact with others battling those issues, and complain bitterly about the lack of responses from our community, or the lack of ABDLs in our area, or… if you know what I’m talking about, it sucks. 

To say I’ve been lucky is an understatement. 

I’ve diapered so many people that I lost count long ago. 

So many ABDL meet ups, some resulting in photoshoots. 

It means diaper changes at CAPCON. 

So many pampz-for-pay experiences, and stints diapering experimental vanilla friends… the list goes on and on. 

So. Many. Connections. Made. Over. The. Years. 

It experiences also include a number of abysitting sessions within our community. 

I've seen it all. 

When it comes to abysitting, age regression is almost always the goal. But there are levels to this shit. 

Playing pretend is where it starts. 

Roleplaying: an attempt to act little, in the hopes of feeling little, which may or may not succeed and, for some of us, ends in uncomfortable failure. 

If failure is the end result, it might be blamed on a lack of chemistry between the little and his big. 

A lack of trust. 

A lack of comfortability within the little himself. 

A combination of all of these things. 

ABDL site forums are filled with stories of awkward playdates or sitting sessions that, for whatever reason, didn’t go the way one or both parties had hoped. 

Being able to fully regress is an amazing thing.

Not just acting little, but feeling little. 

Not just feeling little, but becoming little.

It’s also very rare - rarer than we’d like to admit. 

Especially with another person in the room with us. 

I’ve watched littles struggle to do it in front of me. 

I’ve watched a few succeed. 

I watched Tyson, and a few friends, find true ‘little space’ at CAPCON, seeming to actually morph into their little selves during the Great Nerf Gun Battle of 2016. 

I watched Chad disappear into his own thoughts during his visit to Orlando. 

And, more recently, I watched Z completely lose his adult faculties, including the ability to speak, for an extended period. 

At some point in the near future I’ll share a blog entry about watching Z go from 18 years old to 18 months old in a matter of seconds. 

Not just acting, but feeling. 

Not just feeling, but being. 

It was unlike anything I’ve seen before. 

It was total chemistry between a little and his big. Total trust. 

And complete comfortability within the little himself. 

It was some combination of all of these things - and it was next level. 

I don’t want to document each and every minute of my experiences, with Z or anyone else, in blog format, for fear that the knowledge that his every move could end up in one of my stories could dissuade magical moments like that in the future. 

Still, he is pretty open to things being shared. If I am going to, I at least want to tell the story right. (If you know me, or have even just read my blog for a while, you know it takes me a while to blog about stuff that means something to me). It will take me a little bit more time to compose that blog entry. 

In the meantime, I’m going to share some pictures from our long Columbus Day weekend (Indigenous Peoples’ Day? Canadian Thanksgiving?) on the boat. 

It was three days of Z effortlessly connecting with his little side, and three days of Cwis connecting with an amazing little ABDL. 

It was also a three-day period of Cwis connecting with another side of himself - a side that surprised even me. 

I’d say it was a weekend of surprises, really. 

Take messy diapers, for example. 

Many of you know that I’ve never been fully comfortable changing them. I often avoid it. Yet, somehow, in all of the time he’s spent with me, I’ve never actually seen little Z use the potty. Or even ask to. Or even hint that he has to go. I’m honestly not even sure if he actually knows how to use it lol. We just go about our daily routine, for days at a time, and diapers are changed as needed. NBD. 

When you feel that connection, the ‘ick’ factor disappears, and diapers are just something you do for the little in your life. 

I’m also finding myself surprisingly at ease taking on the “daddy” role. 

That's right... I said it. 

     Me: I guesssssss I ammmmm approaching Daddy status. 

     [uncomfortable silence]

     Z: I mean, if you really think about it, I think you’ll agree you actually long since approached it. 

     Me: I don’t know about that… I still feel - 

     Z: Well, let’s do the math... 

     [Breaks out the math problems]

      Me: (reluctantly) Well, then… be a good boy for Daddy and stop with the numbers already. [sigh...] 

LOL. 

For as reluctant as I was to accept it, I found an uncomfortable amount of uncertainty in relinquishing the role when Z returned to school, especially after such an amazing long weekend. Z is forced/blessed to return to adulthood in pursuit of the degree that will cause him to ‘grow up’ even more, and I'm off to work. Do I 'turn it off' and keep it adult during the week? Or do I hit him with some 'baby talk' here and there? Don't want to distract him and pull him from his studies and back into 'little space'. (And in comes Z with a text - another A. He seems to have found the balance.)

I'm surprised, too, at how much more I resent the 'boy collectors' of our community now. I think it bothered me less when I was merely a 'sitter' but damn - the connections we make our special. I'd already suspected it, but now I'm certain: hoards of littles rob them of the individualized attention they deserve. I'm not sure how some can be 'daddy' to dozens and have it seem real - it takes a ton of emotional energy making that kind of real connection with one. 

Anyway...

I can post adorable pictures up and down Abysitter.com, and across Tumblr, all day long. But being able to share stories like the one I will be posting, as we plan one last overnight to the boat for the season… and talk of winter cottage pajama parties… and some playdates with area friends… like I said, lucky is an understatement. 

I'm loving making these connections, and I look forward to sharing some of it all with you. 

In the meantime, some pictures from my long weekend with Z. 

Or, Z's long weekend with Daddy.

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Not off to a very good start lol. 

The weekend began with a very wet butt.

And, a wet car seat.

I've got a little pants-wetter on my hands.

Actually leaked through a Pull-Up.

(Who even does that?)

After the damp-bottom walk of shame down the dock... 

It would be time for a discussion. 

Cwis:

Car seat wet, pants soaked. 

We definitely aren't putting you in

Pull-Ups again for a while. 

Z:

No fair! 

I want to wear them!

They were what I wore when I was little!

Cwis:

I'm less interested in you feeling little,

and more interested in whether Little Paws will

keep things dry around here, Z.

Z: 

I don't care! I'm keeping my Pull-Ups on! 

A few minutes later, though... 

And after much, much pouting,

another trip out.

In diapers.

Much, much drier on the return this time... 

(Good boy!!!)

Now that a dry bottom is all but guaranteed,

we can take trips to fun places

even further... 

(I've said the kid's not human. Ironic lol.)

Back in the car

Z entertains himself during the trip to the boat.

Watching cartoons tires a li'l squirt out!
Time for a change... 

And finally, naptime... 

Much more to come... 

Z - Part III

[CWIS'S NOTE] Last month I published a few posts about someone new, Z. 

[Z Part I] [Z Part II] [Z & Ry]

Z is a local college student, and has become something of a regular visitor to the boat. Today I'll share the first part of his next visit... 

"Z" - Part III

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[DO NOT REPUBLISH]

I had texted Z to drop the pin, asking him to send his location in a text to my phone so I could easily find the pickup spot. Z had already told me I could pick him up at Parking Lot 13, but I'd realized I had no idea how to navigate his campus yet. I clicked on his text, opened the Maps app, and followed Siri's voice until I heard her say 'You have arrived at your destination.' 

Indeed I had. Z was waiting at the other end of the lot, and I spotted him right away: his died blond hair stood out from quite a distance. I realized if I had driven around long enough I would eventually have spotted him, even without the help of GPS.

We'd already met, but I was actually a little nervous. We'd discussed what this visit was going to be like in great detail, but I wondered if Z would really be ready for the toddlerization transformation that he'd asked for.

I've done a lot of abysitting through the years, and I've seen ABDLs with the strongest of desires to go little suddenly feel apprehensive about actually behaving like a little. 

I understand that - it's hard to allow yourself to get into 'little space'. Some people will never truly be able to find it, regardless of how hard they try. Would Z?

Or would he just be disappointed? 

Just to lessen some of the awkwardness that generally goes along with the whole age regression process, he and I had gone back and forth in texts most of the week before. I'd asked Z to give me a list of things that make him feel little, and to think about things that bring him back out of 'little space' and share those with me, too. 

I've done this before, sometimes with mixed results - people often find exploring this part of themselves challenging, much less explaining. Even over text messages, they're often just not prepared to open up so much of themselves to someone they don't know very well.

That didn't seem to be the case here. Z actually had a list of a dozen or more things that help him get into that space, and I got the impression he'd been waiting to share them with someone, or had maybe shared them before. 

His little list was pretty well thought-out, and included some things I'd never experimented with before.

Potty training attempts. 

Being told he can do things, but then failing. 

Pants wetting. 

Wait - pants wetting?

How would that work, I wondered. 

Was this kid actually going to pee his pants in public?! 

I'd babysat ABDLs far older than Z who still found going outside in a diaper under their clothing to be a psychological challenge. Meanwhile, this little dude is talking about urinating on himself. 

Still, I understood exactly what he was talking about. The process of potty training takes some of us back to our actual little days, so is an important part of age regression. And, as we all know, the potty training process often involves wetting accidents. I'd seen the pictures on Tumblr. I'd had people explain the appeal to me. I got it. I'd just never done it.

Was I ready for this?

I really didn't know what to expect, but I knew that I'd better damn well be ready for anything if pants wetting was a possible component of Z's next visit. Before I'd left for the trip I grabbed a contractor trash bag, wrapped it in a huge beach towel from the boat, and put it down on the passenger seat next to me.

Now, as Z got into the car, he looked down at the seat protection and flashed me a big smile. 

He hoisted a huge school bag and what appeared to be a gallon jug of water over his lap and set them onto the floor by his feet. He then leaned over for a hug and, before I knew it, the kid had me in some kind of bear hug, like a vice grip around my neck. He wasn't letting go. I'd half expected him to give me some awkward little hug, a I'm too cool to hug you in front of my fellow students, old man kind of hug. What I got was the opposite.

Finally, he sat back in his seat.

"Seat belt," I ordered, once I'd gotten my wits about me.

Z looked over at me, clearly - and adorably - disappointed already.

"You're supposed to fasten me," he told me. 

His voice was some degree of little/babytalk, and I had to laugh. I reached over, pulled his seat belt across his lap, and clicked it in. He smiled. "Fank you."

Out of nowhere the kid had his pacifier in his hands. He held it out to me. It had a paci clip on it. He sat back, twisting his body toward me with a you know what to do expression on his face. I struggled with the clip, finally getting it clipped to the neck of his t-shirt. I reached down and grabbed the paci, raising it up and letting him take hold of it with his lips. He smiled this satisfied grin and began sucking on it. 

Before I knew it I was driving down the road, little Z leaning up on me, holding him in my arm while he played with my fingers and contentedly smacked away at his Nuk 5.

This kid wasn't going to have any trouble with toddlerization, I could see...

I'd already decided to stop at Babies R Us.

I'd seen the plaza when we'd passed by on our last visit - it was less than 30 minutes from his campus, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to pick up a few things I needed, anyway.

We pulled up in front of the store and Z sat right up, flashing me a grin. He'd been the one that pointed out how close the store was to our route the last time I'd driven him back, and I could tell he'd hoped we'd be stopping. His paci dropped out of his mouth, and he nodded expectantly.

I took off my seatbelt, and Z instinctively began to unclip his paci. I shot him a stern look, and he stopped.

"Sowwy," he said, looking bashful. "You do it..."

I reached over and pulled his paci up, and then tucked it into the neckband of his t-shirt.

"We're not taking it off, we're tucking it in. Need to have it ready at a moment's notice," I said. Z smiled. I got out and walked around to the passenger door, opening it and leaning in to unbuckle him - another thing he'd mentioned on his 'little list'. 

I half wanted to pick this kid up and carry him into the store, but I knew the world wasn't ready for that, so I simply instructed him to get out and follow me, instead. He did, and he followed me with this odd gait that made me think of a cross between an autistic person and a little boy. As we walked I wondered if this was an act for me, or maybe part of his little persona - or maybe just how Z walked. I tried to remember how he'd walked the last time I'd seen him, and I didn't remember this. 

We walked around the store, Z following me obediently, eyes on the floor most of the time. He was adorable, and I actually started to feel like I was keeping my eye on a child as I walked around the store.

I'd decided to buy something that plays lullabies and broadcasts the constellations up onto the ceiling. I'd seen something like this at CAPCON two years ago, and I loved it. The bedroom on the boat needed some new effects, and I thought this would be perfect. As we walked through the store, I was having difficulty spotting something like that. I started to ask Z to look for it, and I realized that he was off in space somewhere - he actually seemed to be in little space. I'd have to find this myself. 

We continued walking, and as we went from aisle to aisle I handed Z items to carry for us.

Baby powder. Baby wipes. A few of the supplies I was running low on back on the boat.

A set of new 'sippy cups' - Z had mentioned  that using 'big boy cups' is one of the things that pulls him out of 'little space', and I hadn't been able to find the cups I'd used the last time I'd babysat someone.

We continued our way around the store, winding through the aisles until we got to the diaper aisle. 

Z had stopped, and I turned around and saw him standing there, facing the wall of diapers, a smile on his face. I grabbed a pack of Pullups and pressed them into his arms. He took them happily, and we kept walking.

We had found everything on my list except for the musical projector. I walked through the store, Z in tow, looking for an employee. We finally found two in the back. They appeared to be doing some kind of inventory.

"May I help you?" one asked me.

"I'm looking for something that will project stars onto the ceiling. And maybe play lullabies."

"Of course," she replied. I could tell that her fellow employee was staring past me, and I turned to see what she was looking at. There Z was, standing behind me, staring at the ground, his hands filled with baby stuff. He seemed to be unable to meet the gaze of anyone who looked at him, and I thought it looked like he'd been rocking back and forth on his feet a little bit.

I turned back to the store workers, and one smiled at me knowingly, as if to say, "How nice of you to take such good care of such a special young man." I couldn't help but smile back, and I saw the second worker nudge her co-worker, followed by the first making what I sensed to be a special effort to walk us toward the aisle we needed.

Having finally found the project on an end cap, we were ready to check out. Z stood behind me as I took each item from him and placed them on the conveyor. The checkout clerk gave me the sweetest smile, and it was clear that she, too, seemed to suspect I was taking care of someone pretty special. 

If she only knew...

We walked out to the car and I opened Z's door, buckled his seatbelt, and pulled his paci up from underneath his collar, popping it back into his mouth. I walked around and got in on my side, putting the car into gear and pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the street. 

We'd barely gotten half a mile before Z had his head on my shoulder. He reached around my neck with both of his arms, and for most of the rest of the ride just held on to me. Driving down the street being cradled by an adorable little was certainly unlike anything I'd experienced before. 

Where had this kid come from? 

He was like... the quintessential 'little.' Damn.

We were about twenty minutes from the boat when Z finally spoke again.

"Cwis?"

"Yes, Z?"

"Cwis... I have to go potty."

I had wondered if the seat protection I'd prepared was going to be needed. 

Frankly, I had been wondering how I would feel about some kid taking a piss in my car.

But after our little Babies R Us excursion, and this ride, I was feeling like I was actually responsible for a little squirt. So when I turned to him and said "Try to hold it, if you can, bub," it really didn't even feel like acting. It felt real to me. And I knew that, whatever happened, I'd be okay with it. 

After a few more miles of pacifier smacking and an even tighter neck hug, I heard it again.

"I hafta go potty. Are we almost there?" 

This time I decided to take a stern tone.

"I don't spank for accidents," I told him. "Potty training is tough - I know that. Accidents happen." 

Z smiled. 

"But if you drank that entire gallon of water during your last class, knowing you had an hour-long ride ahead of you - "

"I did," he interrupted. He wasn't smiling now, and kind of looked ashamed, staring at his feet. "Sowwy."

"Your bottom is going to be sorry when we get to where we're going," I told him. "Accidents happen. But drinking a gallon of water is pretty much guaranteeing an accident is going to happen. So spankings happen, too."

"Yes, sir."

We rode in silence for a little bit, and I'm not sure what, but something made me reach down and put my hand on Z's lap.

Sure enough... wet.

I hoped that my homemade wetness protector would do the job.

The look on his face, though, was adorable - a mixture of shame, regret, and humiliation that seemed totally and completely real.

I could tell that this wasn't acting. It wasn't forced.

I knew, then, that even having to do some emergency cleanup would be worth it.

After cruising along in wetness for a while we pulled into the cottage driveway and I parked the car and got out.

I walked around to Z's door and unbuckled him. He scooted out and, before I knew what was happening, the kid was climbing up onto me.

I grabbed the diaper bag, and the bags from Babies R Us, and hung as many as I could from my arms. Then I walked, Z's soaking wet midsection pressed into me, down the path to the cottage.

I wondered what neighbors might think, seeing me carrying this college-aged little dude across the lawn. Fortunately, nobody seemed to be around. I set Z down when I couldn't carry him anymore and he grabbed my hand, holding it for the rest of the walk. 

I fumbled with the keys for a little bit, and then guided Z down onto the floor and stood up, my now-soaked shirt pressed into my body.

"Your pee is all over me," I pointed out.

"I sowwy."

I chuckled, rolled my eyes, and started putting things away. Milk goes in the fridge. Diaper bag goes on the bed. Challenge stuff goes on the -

Oh, shit. Challenge stuff.

I'd remembered to bring the 'challenge' materials, but I'd forgotten the prize.

"Go to the corner and wait," I ordered, pointing out the 'time out' corner. Z obediently crawled to the corner, and I walked out and ran up to the car, grabbing the bag I'd forgotten.

Challenges are exactly what they sound like: some sort of challenge, issued by me to a little, that involves an undertaking with a certain degree of difficulty. If the little accomplishes the goal I've set, he wins a prize. If he fails, he gets a punishment. 

I'd told Z about "challenges" during our textversations earlier in the week. He'd been excited by the idea, and wanted to try one. 

I'd asked Z if he preferred a physical challenge or an educational one.

"You're supposed to choose," he'd told me. 

(That would become a theme of 'little time').

I was torn. This kid was smart af, but he was fit af as well. 

I knew I wouldn't be able to choose one without feeling like I'd been left out on the other, so I decided to just combine the two: we'd do a challenge that would challenge him both physically and intellectually. 

"Tell me something you struggle with academically," I had asked him. "What's your least favorite subject in school?" 

"History," was his quick reply.

I decided to create a challenge that would incorporate some aspect of history along with some physical requirements. 

So during the week, as he dreamed of the 'little time' that was to come, I researched facts about his school - historical facts, mostly - and worked to come up with ten multiple choice questions that I'd require him to answer.

I printed each of these out on separate pieces of paper and, while Z knelt in the corner, I walked them around the cottage, hiding them in various corners and under the bed - spreads out anywhere I knew he'd have to work to get them.

As I placed them around I taunted him a little bit.

"How much do you really know about your school?" I asked him.

"How much does anyone really know about their school, sir?" he replied.

"A warm bottom is riding on this," I said, "so, hopefully, a lot..."

The way it worked is this: if Z answered more than half the questions correctly, he would win a prize. 

But, for every single question he got wrong, he would have his choice: two paddle swats, one paddle swat and five minutes in the corner, or five hard AF hand spanks.

Z chose the two paddle swats.

"Man, I hope you read more than just the party facts when you were researching schools," I taunted.

"I don't really party, sir" he reminded me. "I'm a good kid..." 

Cute lol. 

Finally all ten questions were in place. I sent Z to fetch the paddle from the kitchen counter - actually a wooden cutting board - and he winced as he picked it up. I had him bring me a crayon, as well.

Then we were ready to go.

"Bring me the first piece of paper you see," I instructed him. "Answer the question, and then do whatever exercise I tell you. Then we move on to the next. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir..." Z seemed both eager and apprehensive at the same time. 

We were off...

The first piece of paper Z brought to me was a question about the year that his school was founded.

He looked at it randomly and guessed.

Wrong.

No worries, we'd tabulate those at the end.

"20 pushups."

Z was naked, now, and did all 20 very quickly.

"Pace yourself," I suggested. He looked at me with a look that said, "C'mon, old man, I've got this," but respectfully said Yes sir...

Next up was a question about the most popular college at his university by number of students enrolled. He guessed wrong again. 

The correct answer was actually his college!

"Be honest with me," I joked. "Did you just read my blog, figure out where I lived, and pick a college that was close to me?"

"No, sir..." Z replied, gigging.

"Seriously... so far you're at 0%," I continued. "I am wondering if you even researched your school at all?!"

Z was laughing, now. 

"Situps." I watched as Z churned out 20 solid situps. This kid was really fit, and it seemed like this was nothing to him. Still, there were eight questions to come. 

It was time to continue. He moved on to another sheet, retrieving it, and then answering a third question wrong. I was starting to worry that he wouldn't get any right, and I'd spend the afternoon soothing the kid's battered ego.

"Naked jumping jacks."

"Naked jumping jacks?" Z asked, looking incredulous. "What on earth are naked jumping jacks?!"

"Jumping jacks, only naked. Do 25. Go."

Z stood up and began his 25 jumping jacks.

The sight of him, nude, jumping up and down, everything swinging all around - I couldn't help but laugh. 

I'd never actually seen anyone do jumping jacks in the nude before. The idea had just popped into my mind. 

If you've never seen it, I highly recommend it.

I could see that Z was trying to maintain a serious demeanor, but the sight of me chuckling made him smile, and then Z was laughing - for a minute he looked like he might lose it.

"What?!" he finally asked.

"I could watch this all day long," I replied.

He was laughing harder, now, and he stopped for a moment.

"Keep going," I ordered. He started up again, as I counted. We were both laughing now.

"I think the rest will be jumping jacks," I told him.

"Naked jumping jacks," he corrected me.

Z was back on all fours, ready to crawl around for the next question. He brought it back to me. It was a question about his school's athletics team. This one I knew he'd get wrong. He'd never guess this one.

He circled his answer - and it was right.

"How did you know that?" I asked him, obviously surprised. 

"Everyone knows that," he replied confidently. "That team in the answer is the pride of the school."

And then something happened. Z started coming back with questions and, in between pushups, and situps, and naked jumping jacks, and some other exercise he suggested to me, he began to get them right.

"How did you know that?" I'd ask.

"Overheard that little fact on the school tour," he'd reply.

"How on earth did you know that one?" I'd ask.

"My roommate talks about that all the time."

The kid had only been at school for a few weeks, but he'd picked up on quite a bit. He'd been right - the history questions had gotten him. But he definitely knew his school, including a whole bunch of obscure random facts I'd found on the internet.

The final count was 6 right, 4 wrong.

He'd won the challenge, and had only gotten four wrong.

Little Z lay on the floor, looking up at me, a satisfied smile on his face. 

During the challenge I'd gone back and forth, not sure if I'd call "half right" a win, or might require "more than half right."

Either way, he'd won. And he knew it.

"Next up, your paddle swats," I told Z. He was still smiling, albeit nervously now. "But first... I guess I owe you a prize."

Z nodded happily, and I could see that he was genuinely excited.

I walked over to my backpack and retrieved a pair of plastic pants.

Z had mentioned plastic pants on his 'little list.' I'd picked them up on my recent visit to Supply Solutions.

They were boyish - Z had also mentioned being treated like a sissy on his list of things that take him out of little space.

I knew they'd be adorable, and only wished I had a cloth diaper to go with them.

No matter, I'd soon find - we'd have plenty of opportunities to wear them with disposable diapers.

Speaking of disposable, it was time to get Z into something for our walk down to the dock. We'd decided to do the challenge diaper-less since so much physical activity tends to stretch out a diaper pretty good. Now he was ready to have his bottom covered again. I chose a Safari for the occasion. 

Once Z was diapered it was time to take the short walk down to the beach. It was a beautiful day - the sun was shining and the temperature was warm. Still, like nearly any fall day at the cottage, most of the properties lining the lake would go unused - many served as summer properties, and the others wouldn't see visitors until well after the work day ended. 

"I would really like to lay out on a lounge chair on the dock and just hold you for a while," I told Z. 

He nodded, and we continued making our way down the steps as I scanned the horizon: sometimes fishing boats would anchor offshore - would one be there and ruin the fun? 

As we walked I could tell Z was totally comfortable wearing nothing but a diaper. There didn't seem to be a shred of self-consciousness to him - he just traipsed along nonchalantly, kind of like every other 18 year old college kid in the world wore nothing but a Safari, too. NBD. 

I could get used to this, and fuck society and its norms ran through my mind. Some of you know what I'm talking about. 

We made our way down onto the dock. I looked around, scanning the horizon and checking neighboring properties for prying eyes. Z, on the other hand, spied a beach ball, and happily scooped it up, seemingly without a care in the world. 

We spent the next two hours lounging out in the sun. As you can probably imagine, I snapped a ton of pictures for Tumblr and the blog. I felt guilty, at one point - Z seemed only too happy to pose for me, and followed every directive I gave him obediently, but I knew that he'd probably rather just be playing with the beach ball instead of holding it for the camera - this was supposed to be his 'little time', after all. I tried to keep the photo taking to a minimum. 

Still, I'd seen some of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen from this dock, and I'd wanted to snap some dope diaper shots from it for a long, long time. Today I had one of the most adorable little diaper boys I'd ever met, on one of the most beautiful days I'd seen at the cottage. Damn, it, we were going to get some sunset shots. 

First, though - swimming. 

Sunny and beautiful - but also late September, so I expected the water to be chilly. 

Z had visited the boat a few times, but we'd never taken it out, much less gone for a dip, so I wasn't sure if he'd be ready for it. 

I'd soon find out, as it would take him several minutes just to allow his shoulders to sink down below water level. 

As Z clenched his pacifier in his teeth, I took a video - we'd later call it Z's Swimming Lesson on Tumblr. 

What would follow would very much resemble a swimming lesson: little Z sounding scared about going under the water and me, his big, up on the dock, trying my best to coax him into an actual swim.

I've gotten quite a few responses from people who watched the video and want a swimming lesson, too. That's awesome, and I hate to wreck the moment by pointing out that Z is actually a pretty good swimmer - he just doesn't like freezing his nips off. 

Anyway... 

Check out the Tumblr video... 

swimming lesson.

Finally, Z had summoned the courage to go underwater. 

I stripped down to my own Safari and climbed down the ladder, making my way to Z and picking him up. 

This kid had goosebumps after only a minute or two, so I pulled him towards me, holding him against my chest as he wrapped his legs around me and clung to me for warmth. 

"Cold, huh?" I asked. 

"Yes, sir." 

I explained that I was comfortable - I am a big guy and have some extra insulation layers, really. Z, on the other hand, already seemed ready to get out. Still, he held on to me, and we stayed there for quite a while, Z wrapped around me and me gently bouncing him up and down, telling him stories about growing up ABDL in this very spot. 

I've had a number of people in diapers at the cottage. Most, though, weren't ABDL. Some were friends. One was a pampz-for-pay experience. (Check the Stories page of this blog and you'll see the Pampz for Pay series - or just buy the book). 

The first time I'd had the chance to hold someone in just a diaper against me in the lake had been years before - check the Mikey & Me stories for more about that. I had ABenjaminButton here a few times, too. Since he left the USA, though, I'd kind of gone into Ben withdrawal - and diaperboy lake swims withdrawal, too. 

Z would actually be only the second 100% ABDL to get to visit this spot, and thus the first ABDL I'd get to spend time with, in diapers, underwater, in quite a while. I was really enjoying it, and didn't want it to end, even though I was pretty sure he was freezing his little padded ass off. 

"I just warmed things up a little," Z finally spoke, giggling. 

"You're wearing a Safari," I pointed out. "I'm pretty sure you just warmed things up for you a little." 

I could tell that the kid had maxed out his tolerance for the cold water, so I asked him if he wanted to go hang out in the boat house, and he nodded profusely. He climbed up the ladder, his Safari filled with water and thick as fuck, and I'd wished I'd brought my phone into the water with me so I could snap a picture of him as he struggled to keep it at bottom-level on the way out. 

Off in the distance I heard the local university crew team calling out to each other over the water. They'd be near the dock soon - those shells move fast, I've found out from previous diapered dock experiences. I sent Z waddling off down the dock - with a diaper that filled with lake water, waddling is really your only option - and I gathered our belongings, following him. 

Check out the video on Tumblr.

We made our way into the boathouse and I sat down on a chaise lounge. Our diapers were waterlogged, and lakewater flooded out of mine onto the floor when I sat down, pooling into a puddle underneath me. 

I tugged at Z's arm, pulling him down to a sitting position onto my lap, and lakewater (and etc.) flooded out of his Safari onto me and then onto the floor. 

Then I just held him, and enjoyed the... view. 

We lay there, in soaking wet diapers, Z sucking on his pacifier with his eyes closed and me rubbing his back and, eventually, his bottom - another item on his 'little list'. 

And, even though I knew he was soaking wet, I checked his diaper a few times, anyway (also from the list.) 

We lay there as the rowing shells headed south down the lake, and we were still laying there as they returned, later, heading back to the channel. 

I'll admit, I was more relaxed than I'd been in a long, long time. 

There's something about laying with an adorable diaper boy that just has that effect on you. 

Combine that with being in a place like the cottage, and it's exponentially more relaxing - for me, anyway. 

I actually started to doze off for a moment, a few times, only to be brought back to consciousness only by the occasional happy murmurings of little Z. 

I hoped that he was feeling little the same way I was feeling relaxed. 

The sun was nearly down by the time a chill fell on us. I announced that it was time to get ready to go back to the boat, and Z slowly got up off of me, standing up gingerly. 

"Uh oh!" he suddenly cried out. 

"What?" I asked nervously. Had he spotted a neighbor coming our way? Had a passing kayaker gotten to close to shore? 

"I think... I had... a blowout." 

I looked at his midsection. He was holding his hand against his diaper. He slowly pulled it away and I watched the absorbent material from his diaper fall to the floor. 

"What the fuck," I said. I'd recently had a similar blowout with Mono on the boat, and the cleanup was a bitch. Z looked embarrassed, so I assured him it wasn't his fault. "Must be something bout these diapers, they just can't keep the diaper fluff in." 

"Sodium polyacrylate," Z corrected me.

"What?"

"Sodium polyacrylate. SAP. That's the stuff that's puddling out onto the floor." 

"How do you know that?" I asked, rolling my eyes. 

"I'm into science," he reminded me. 

"Well, why don't you figure out a scientific way to pick this stuff up without making a bigger mess?" I suggested sarcastically. 

Then I stood up and watched as my own Safari leaked way, way more sodium polyacrylate than Z's had. 

"You were saying, sir?" 

Sigh... 

I pushed the SAP (floof) over into the corner, deciding to let it dry before trying to clean it up, and the boy and I trudged up the steps back to the cottage. 

It was time for a fresh diaper and, at Z's suggestion, time to model the plastic pants he'd won as a prize. On his head, it would turn out.

The boat was waiting, and we were excited to try out our new nursery stuff on it. We piled some of the heaviest wet diapers into a garbage bag, trudged them off to the car, and headed out, excited for what the rest of the night had in store for us. 

TO BE CONTINUED...