[CWIS'S NOTE] Up today is the final chapter in the Mikey & Me story. This is the story of a couple of weeks I spent with a straight, non-ABDL friend who visited me while I was on vacation - he'd been homeless in another state, and offered to trade some time in diapers for a bus ticket and a place to stay, an offer I couldn't refuse.
If you haven't read the entire story, you can read it here. Sorry for all of the duplicate pictures - this blog entry is actually nine or ten different blog entries put together from over the years, and while he was cool with me taking pics for the blog, I didn't want to go crazy with it.
Want to read the entire story in its entirety, with all the pictures - plus a bunch of other stories? Consider purchasing my e-book. It's 350+ pages of true ABDL stories, pictures I've taken over the years, and some diaper commentary. Priced at $9.99, you can check out the 'table of contents' and purchase it here:
Proceeds are being put toward some ABDL resource projects I am working on, and your support is appreciated. But if you're only down for the free stuff, just stay tuned to the blog... I'll have more new stories out soon...
Mikey & Me: PART X
"The Final Chapter: Mikey Gets A Spanking"
TRIGGER WARNING: SPANKING SCENES BELOW
Night had fallen, and Mikey had gotten quiet.
He’d spent the entire afternoon on my laptop,
working on his music website with my help.
Sometime between my cousins’ visit and
dinnertime a creative bug had hit him, and he
had decided to do a complete overhaul, a redesign.
I have to admit, I was impressed by his abilities
on the computer. Mikey was virtually racing through
programs on my laptop. One minute he was
designing a logo, the next writing HTML code for
his blog. I watched as he uploaded a few of the
tracks I’d saved to a music site, and then pasted
that code onto his own. Within a few hours his
online presence was back. It would have taken
me two or three days to do all of that, I thought.
“You’re actually pretty good at this,” I told him.
“If I had a laptop all the time imagine where I’d
be,” he replied.
“You could have had a laptop, bro…” I pointed
out, reminding him that he'd pawned the one I'd helped him buy when he was on his daily dose of heroin. Mikey's face turned red and he turned to me, putting
his hands on my shoulders and looking into my
eyes in a most serious manner.
“You know I am mad ashamed of myself for that,
right?” he asked me.
I nodded. I hadn’t even
meant to bring it up again – I wasn’t trying to kill
the positive vibe Mikey was in. It had just – come
out of my mouth. Still, he was right – and so was
I. A laptop would have made a big difference in
his musical efforts – and he would have had a
laptop if he hadn’t turned back to drugs.
“I bet
you can’t wait to whip this ass tonight.” Mikey’s
statement brought me back to reality – and yes,
his spanking was just a few short hours away.
“I’ve been working on my arm strength waiting
for this one,” I quipped. Mikey looked at me, rolling his eyes, and then realized that I was
kidding. He laughed.
“C’mon, Cwis – you could barely carry your own
bag at the event. I’m not too worried about your
arm strength.”
“We’ll see, bro,” I said.
“I’m not worried.” With that, Mikey dove back into his work, and I sat
contentedly in my chair, watching him go at it. He
was wearing nothing but a diaper and a t-shirt, a
paci clipped to it. Every once in a while he would
walk his little padded ass into the kitchen and
make another cup of coffee. He alternated
between sucking on the pacifier and slurping
down mugs. It was adorable, and I was totally
relaxed, taking it all in.
As darkness began to fall I announced that it was
nearing time for Mikey’s spanking.
“Wait!” he called out, “didn’t you want to go
swimming in just diapers?” I had said that, I admitted.
“Well, tonight is the perfect night!” he told me. “Your
neighbors on the beach side aren’t home, and the
sky is perfectly clear. Let’s do a little diapered swimming and star gazing, and you can pummel
my ass when we come back up!”
I had to laugh. I agreed that would be acceptable,
but warned Mikey that he’d better not be
offering to swim in diapers just to avoid what
was coming next. He looked at me as though I’d
accused him of being a communist or something,
and shook his head profusely.
“One thing you’ll learn about me is that I’m a
man of my word. Or, in this case, a baby of my
word, Cwis. If I say I’m going to do something, I
do it.”
“Well, me too, Mikey,” I replied. “And when we
come back upstairs I’m going to light your
asscheeks on fire. Let’s go swim…”
“I’d like to say that worries me, but I’m more
worried about being bit by a fish in the lake than
by the prospect of my butt catching on fire, to be
honest,” Mikey told me.
Maybe this kid was tougher than I gave him credit for?
Maybe this kid was tougher than I gave him credit for?
Mikey and I stripped down to our diapers and
walked the 36 steps to the beach. There were no
neighbors in sight, so we threw our towels onto
the steps in front of the boathouse and walked
directly over to the beach.
“Big bwo Cwis – carry me!” Mikey suddenly said,
far too loudly. With that he put his hands around
my neck and sort of started trying to climb up
onto me.
“Stop, stop!” The walk into the lake was a gradual
one, and the bottom was strewn with rocks – it
was hard enough to walk into deeper water
without falling down, let alone trying to carry a
150lb “baby” with you. That wasn’t happening…
“This is child neglect,” Mikey cried, as he let
go and began the long walk into the lake. I let
him go first, and watched him and he gradually
made his way to deeper water. I watched as the
waterline slowly made its way up his diaper, and
then over. “Fuck! Fuck! Forgot how cold it is!” he
called out, turning around with a very annoyed –
but adorable – look on his face. “The water is
flooding into my Pamper!”
“You gotta go under, bro,” I reminded him. “Once
you get used to it it’ll feel okay.”
“That’s what you said about wearing diapers,” he
joked. I laughed.
“They don’t feel okay?”
“Nah, it’s cool… they feel normal now,” Mikey
admitted. “In fact, I’m probably going to have to
remind myself to put on a swim suit before I go
swimming wherever I get to next.”
“Afraid you might put a diaper on by accident?”
“Yea.”
Mikey was slowly backing into the water as we
spoke, and a few seconds later he’d stepped on a
big rock and took a tumble, going all the way
under.
“It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold!” Mikey cried out. He rushed to
stand. The water was up to his neck, now. I took a few
giant steps further out and dove in, careful to grab onto
my own diaper to make sure it didn’t fall off.
Mikey and I spent more than an hour in the
water. He was extremely playful, and kept
showing me his best dolphin moves, jumping out
of the water and across it like a porpoise, careful
to hold his diaper with both hands to keep it
from falling off.
“This is getting heavy,” Mikey yelled across the
water at one point. I remember looking around
furtively, making sure there weren’t any
neighbors out on their docks each time Mikey
sailed up into the air. It was clear that he was
wearing a diaper, and nothing but a diaper.
“Keep that ass underwater, bro,” I suggested
several times. Mikey just rolled his eyes and
jumped again each time. A few times I told him I was getting tired, and
each time he objected, telling me he was having
fun and wasn’t ready to go up yet.
I began to question whether Mikey was just
urging that we stay in the water because he
knew a spanking awaited him upstairs. I finally
asked him, and the sheepish look on his face said
it all…
“Let’s go, Spanky,” I said sternly.
Mikey reluctantly plodded his way to the dock.
He looked around – no neighbors in view
anywhere – and began the long climb up the
ladder from the lake to the top of the dock.
“Holy fuck, Chris – this is heavy!” he called out,
stopping his climb on mid-rung. “It’s about to fall
off, Chris – should I just take it off?”
I reached up, putting my hand square on the
backside of Mikey’s diaper. It was filled with
water, and super thick. As I pushed it against his
bum water poured out all sides, cascading down
his legs and pouring on top of me.
“I think you just had a golden shower, Cwis,” Mikey quipped, looking downward at me and giggling. “Well, it was pretty diluted with lakewater, actually, so… you just had a regular shower laced
with gold.”
I had to laugh – I didn’t know Mikey
knew anything about watersports.
“Just keep climbing,” I told him. He did, and was
finally up on the dock and able to hold on to his
own diaper. I climbed out, doing the same with
mine. With nobody around to see I allowed mine
to fall down most of the way, pulling it back up
once I was on the dock.
“Dude, full moon,” Mikey said, laughing and
covering his eyes. Once I’d covered up he pointed
to the sky, where there actually was a full moon
making its way over the horizon. “See?”
Mikey had to hike his diaper up all the way up
the stairs and onto the deck, as did I. A diaper
wet with lake water weighs way more than a urine-soaked diaper – even a Dry 24/7 after a full night of
wettings stays on somewhat, but a ‘lake diaper’ –
not even a little.
“Watch this.”
Mikey stood in front of me on the
deck to the cottage now, moving his hips around
a few times, and we watched as his diaper fell to
the floor with a loud thud. I immediately laughed
– his little hula dance had been adorable, after all
– but Mikey looked down at his penis, back up at
me, and immediately covered himself with both
hands.
“Um, you know they get smaller in water,
right?” he asked me.
I had to laugh. Shrinkage. Mikey’s face was red,
now, so I just nodded.
“What was that you said about being a grower,
not a shower?”
He was laughing now, too.
“Well, I’m about to get spanked, so I don’t think
I’ll be showing anytime soon…”
I’d almost forgotten about that.
“Maybe we’ll pass on that tonight,” I suggested.
Truthfully, I was having second thoughts about
spanking him at all – more than an hour holding
someone against you as they suck their thumb
and wet themselves kind of brings out the
nurturing instincts, and the idea of busting some
ass right afterwards is less appealing.
“Oh, no, Cwis. We’re getting it done. I spent all
day today dreading this and I don’t want to go
through that again. Plus there’s not many nights
left of your vacation. So… tonight, okay?”
I nodded in agreement, but I still wasn’t sure. I
think Mikey could sense that, and a worried look
came across his face.
“Honestly, bro, this is more for me than it is for
you,” he continued. “You’ve been so good to me
this whole trip, and I’ve felt bad about this the
whole time. Knowing you were going to paddle
me made me feel a little better, so if you take that
away from me…”
“Nah, I got you,” I reassured him. “But you’ve
been good to me, Mikey. This whole week has
been one of the best weeks I’ve ever had. I mean
– I got to diaper a friend, and – “
“Me too, bro,” Mikey interrupted. “I got to get
diapered by my 'big bwo', and – “ he trailed off, and
we both laughed.
“Even if I didn’t spank you, I sort of feel like
you’ve made up for – “
“I’m taking that spanking, Chris,” Mikey said. “No
ifs, ands, or buts about it. Well, maybe a butt...”
Mikey had grabbed a towel off the porch railing
and was rubbing his bottom with it, getting it
nice and dry. I knew that a wet bum intensifies
the spank effect, but didn’t say anything – if he’d
spent an hour clinging to me to try to avoid it,
he’d be sorry shortly.
Before I could say anything Mikey asked me
where the paddle was. (It was an acrylic cutting
board that I’d had out on the counter but had
stuck in a cupboard for the past few days – out of
sight, out of mind.) I told him, and he walked
across the living room, retrieving it and bringing
it to me.
“Where are we gonna do this, bro?” he asked,
putting the paddle in my hand. I pointed to the
bed in the bedroom, and he obediently walked to
it, sitting down.
“Stand up,” I directed, and Mikey complied. I
pulled on a pair of boxers and put on a t-shirt.
“Can I put on a – “ Mikey began to ask, hopefully.
“No shirt,” I told him. He laughed.
“I was about to ask for a diaper.”
“Are you crazy? No… noooooo. Barebottom
only.”
“Now I’m starting to see why you said this might
hurt a little,” Mikey said. I could see a look of
concern on his face, now. I couldn’t be sure if he
really thought I was going to spank him through
a diaper or not, but I knew that would be
pointless. “Underpants, Cwis?”
“Barebottom, Mikey.”
“Well, then, I have a confession to make… I might
not be as tough as I said before.”
“I’m not worried about it,” I told him, parroting
his popular refrain back to him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. I closed the door to the bedroom and pointed to
the bed.
“Okay, bro. Here are the rules.”
“There are… rules?”
“Rules,” I reiterated. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, sir,” I corrected. “That’s rule #1. Forget and
I add a swat. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Mikey replied. “Wait – add? How many
of these are there?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I answered, honestly. “How
many did you think there were?”
“One?” Mikey couldn’t be serious. The look on my
face must have been one of absolute
astonishment, because he burst out laughing.
“Okay, maybe two.”
“Okay, maybe two, SIR,” I corrected him. “So now
we’re up to at least three…”
“Sorry, SIR!” Mikey blurted out. He was still
laughing, but less so, and I imagined that the
difficulty of the task ahead was beginning to sink
in. And I hadn’t even gone over all of the rules
with him yet…
“Rule number two. Keep your hands and elbows
on the mattress. No matter how badly your
bottom hurts, if you stand up or walk around the
spanking you just got doesn’t count.”
“Oh, Goddddd,” Mikey blurted out.
“Oh, Goddddd, SIR,” I corrected.
“Damn. Damn, sir,” Mikey corrected himself.
“Rule number three: no swearing. Every swear
gets you an extra swat.”
“Oh no. Yes, sir,” Mikey groaned.
“Rule number four, keep your eyes straight
ahead. And rule number five – if you ask to get
out of this, or try to wiggle that ass when the
paddle is incoming to avoid a spank, you get an
extra two.”
“Oh my… gosh! Sir!” Mikey responded. I could
tell he was nervous now, and I was starting to
have fun. “Sir, I’m not trying to get out of this.
Not at all, sir.” Mikey had suddenly got very
serious. “Sir, you loaned me money for a laptop,
and I bought it – I swear I did! I even showed
you, remember?”
I nodded.
“But then I did the
same shit – fuck, I mean – damn it.” Mikey was
realizing how fucked he really was – he had just
swore three times in one sentence, and the
gravity of the situation was clearly setting in.
“I’m sorry for the swears, sir. I’ll take all the extra
swats. I’m just trying to tell you how ashamed I
am of my behavior. Before this begins.”
I assured him I understood.
“I appreciate you stepping up, bro,” I told him. “I
was pretty demoralized after you pawned that
laptop and disappeared. That money was money
I had been saving for a trip to the beach, and
loaning it to you for a laptop meant I couldn’t go
on the trip. The same weekend I realized you’d
fucked up was the weekend my friends went out
to Cocoa Beach. It was so hot that weekend. And
I stayed inside, sweating my ass off, thinking
about where you might be, if you were even
okay, and what might have gone wrong.”
“I wasn’t okay, and I thought about you a lot that
weekend, too,” Mikey said. I figured he was lying
– he probably was high as fuck that weekend. “I
hope you were diapered, at least, sir,” Mikey
continued.
I felt my face get red. Now I was annoyed.
“I had run out of diapers. That was part of your
loan money, too.”
That part was a lie. But Mikey didn’t need to
know that.
“Now I feel really shit – I mean, really awful, sir.”
“You can show me how bad you feel when you
stand there and take every swat,” I countered.
Mikey assured me he was going to take every
single one.
“Every. Single. One.”
The way he drew the words out, I could see he
was readying himself for this. I snapped my fingers and pointed at the
mattress. Mikey sat again, but I ordered him to
stand and turn around, then to put his hands and
elbows on the mattress and face forward. He
obediently complied.
“After each swat, am I supposed to say ‘thank you
sir, may I have another’?” he wanted to know.
“Sounds good,” I told him. I don’t usually do that,
but I’d seen it in videos, and thought it sounded
hot. I wondered if Mikey had seen spanking
videos, too. Maybe he had watched some in
preparation for this? “And count them out at the
beginning. “One, two…”
“You mean one, sir!” Mikey corrected me,
laughing.
Mikey stood prone, bent over, almost crouched
over the mattress. I put my hands on his legs,
putting them back toward me, putting them out a
little so that his bottom was at the level my
paddle would be landing. Then I put my hand in
between his legs, pushing them apart a little.
Mikey didn’t speak, and seemed hunkered down,
ready for swat #1.
I put the paddle up against Mikey’s bottom,
rubbing it back and forth gently. As I did, I began
a lecture about asking people for money they
don’t have, and then failing to repay them. I just
sort of mumbled some stuff to make it seem
more legit, but the truth was, I was ready to go
ham on Mikey’s behind.
And go ham I did.
WHAM!!!
The first swat landed with a force that even
surprised me, making a thwack sound that filled
the air in the little bedroom. Mikey jumped up
into the air a little, but was very careful to keep
his hands and elbows on the mattress, though he
began rubbing his arms across the comforter
vigorously, trying to disperse some of the energy
that the nerve endings in his buttocks probably
needed to release somewhere.
“Oh… my… God. Wow, sir,” Mikey finally spoke.
“Wow. Are they all going to be that hard, sir?”
“Harder,” I replied, as sternly as possible. Mikey
began shaking his head. “And what really sucks
is, that one didn’t even count.”
“What do you mean, didn’t count, sir?” Mikey
asked, sounding alarmed.
“You didn’t count it out,” I reminded him. “One,
sir… so we’ll actually call that zero. Ready for
number one?”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Mikey asked me
incredulously. “Sir!”
He almost yelped the word
‘sir’, trying to sneak it into the sentence he had
just uttered. I wasn’t going to hold that against
him – I’d just told him the first swat he’d gotten
hadn’t counted. I didn’t answer his question, but
began rubbing the paddled across his bottom
again. He winced the moment he felt it.
CRACK!!!
I landed the second swat just as hard as the first,
but on his left cheek as opposed to the right.
Mikey’s bottom was turning red very quickly,
and I wondered if that was because of the force
of my paddle swats or if he just had a sensitive
bum. I admired how the redness on one side was
almost a mirror image of the other.
“One, sir! Thank you, sir, may I please…”
Mikey
shuddered, sucking in air. It was clear that the
second paddle swat had hurt a lot, but he hadn’t
felt the pain fully until he was in mid-sentence.
“May I please… sir… may I… have… another?”
“Of course you can, little bro, just give me a
minute,” I answered, and Mikey sighed, shaking
his head. I asked Mikey to give me an overview of
what had happened to the laptop when he had
disappeared. Then, as he searched his memory
for the right words, I sat down in a chair and, my
face inches from one of the most amazing
bottoms I’ve ever seen, listening as Michael told
his story: he’d bought the laptop and spent days
making new music, even filming a video on the
webcam, but his heroin friends had been sending
286
him Facebook messages left and right, and it
hadn’t taken long before one thing led to another
and he was hanging out with them again.
As Mikey spoke I stood up and began rubbing the
paddle against his bottom again. He winced
when he felt it touch, but continued his story. I
let him finish, and then stepped back for swat #3.
THWACK!!!
The third spanking landed directly across the
middle of Mikey’s ass, a trifecta of reddening that
made his left cheek, his buttcrack, and his right
cheek uniformly red. I could tell that Mikey felt
this one immediately – he tucked his legs up
under his body and began writhing on the
mattress, wagging his tail back and forth in pain.
“My hands… and elbows… touching… sir!”
Mikey
was having a hard time breathing now, taking
little breaths in between pleading yelps. I let him
writhe on the mattress for a minute before
ordering him to lay still.
“Two, sir – thank you,
sir, may I please… have… another.”
I could see
that he’d had trouble even getting the words out.
I sat down on the bed next to him, putting my
hand on his bottom, rubbing it gently. His ass
was hot – and I mean that in a temperature
sense. It really did feel like he was on fire.
“Your bottom is red as hell right now, bro,” I told
him. He had it up in the air, as though a cross
breeze from the sliding glass door might cool it
off.
“I… don’t know… if I can do… all of these, sir.”
Mikey’s statement came out as more of a plea for
mercy.
I had just connected three of the most
effective bottom swats I’d ever given. I was like a
professional baseball player trying to hit one
over the fence – these were the hardest
spankings I had ever given, and I was sure he
was feeling it, now. So I really didn’t need to give
him a ton of these, right?
“Well, if you can’t continue…” I said, and Mikey
put his hand up into the air to stop me.
“I can. I can. I can, sir,” Mikey replied. I noted that
it seemed like he was more trying to convince
himself, not me. “I’m not welshing on an
agreement, sir. You brought me out here under
the condition that I take a spanking, and I am
taking it, sir.”
To me, the diapering was much, much more
important than any spanking in our verbal
contract. To be honest, I couldn’t even remember
if a spanking had been part of it. He had added
that later, hadn’t he? Still, the fact that this was
so important to Mikey, and his resolve to make it
through to the end so strong, made me want to
continue, just to see how far he would go.
“If you can’t, you need to tell me,” I told him. He
nodded. I snapped my fingers and he obediently
took the spanking position I’d put him in before.
I stepped back, took a step forward, and landed
the next paddle swat with a force that put the
first three to shame.
BOOM!
Mikey’s whole body contorted this time.
“Fuck! Fuck!” he yelped. “Sir! I’m so sorry for the
swears. But I can’t! I can’t!”
“You can’t what, Mikey?” I asked him.
“I just can’t. I just can’t, sir!”
Mikey was breathing heavily now, and I thought
he might start hyperventilating.
“You can’t take responsibility for your actions?
You can’t follow through with the commitment
you made to me? You can’t follow simple rules,
including not forgetting to count these out and
not swearing? What is it you can’t do, bro?”
Mikey was ashamed now, I could tell. He
breathed in deeply, stopped writhing around,
and slowly returned to spanking position.
“Two sir! May I please have another one, sir?”
“That was three,” I told him.
“No, sir,” he argued with me. “I swore. I’m so, so,
so, so sorry.”
“That’s right,” I replied. “Okay, here comes
number three.” I rubbed the paddle against his
bottom, which was swollen just a little bit now.
He was slowly shaking his head, and his ass was trembling now. He started to put a hand on
his butt, to feel it, but seemed to think better of it
and put it back on the bed.
“Sir, I don’t know if – “
“If what, Michael?”
“Sir, I don’t know if I can do this. But I am going
to do it. I promised you. And this is what I need
to do to make that up to you, sir. So I am going to
do it. If it’s the last thing I do…”
Mikey’s pep talk to himself not withstanding, I
had to chuckle at his last remark.
“Sir,” he continued. “How many swats more, do
you think?”
“Does that really matter?” I asked him.
“No, sir” he replied dejectedly, hanging his head.
I knew that this would be ending soon – his
bottom was red and puffy now, with several
distinct paddle markings. I wasn’t looking to turn
the kid’s ass into hamburger meat, but I didn’t
want to come off as easy, either.
“Probably just another dozen or so,” I told him.
Mikey gasped for a breath of air almost exactly
as my next paddle swat rained the fire across his
backside. It almost sounded like the wind had
been knocked out of him.
“Twelve more, sir?” he yelped out incredulously.
“Oh… my… fucking… God!” He was beginning to
cry, now, and the words coming out of his mouth
were muffled as he put his face into his mattress.
“I am so… so… so… sorry, sir. So sorry. So sorry.
So sorry.”
As Mikey lay crying into the mattress
he furiously waved his bottom back and forth.
“Sir, I’m begging you… please…”
“Please what, Mikey?” I demanded, feigning
anger. I could see by the condition of the kid’s
butt that he’d taken his limit – any more would
probably bruise his ass. No point in letting him
know that, though. “Please what? Please stop and
let you off with four?”
“Yes. No. Sir, I don’t even know. But this hurts so
much, sir. I don’t even remember what the count
was. I can’t even count past two right now, it
hurts so bad.”
Mikey was still crying, doing his
best to muffle it with the mattress, and wiggling
his bottom in the air. I sat down on the mattress
and reached over, putting my hand squarely on
that ass. It was trembling nonstop – his whole
body seemed to be, now – and he winced and
pulled his bottom away when I touched it. I
gently rubbed it, and he held still for a few
minutes. The heat on my hand was noticeable.
“Just eleven more,” I said, and he let out a little
cry.
“I’m not going to try to stop you, sir. I have this
coming. But I can’t believe how much this hurts,
sir. I swear to everything that I love, I will never
do something like this again…”
“Remember earlier when you said you weren’t
worried?” I asked him.
“Sir… I was so wrong. So, so, so wrong, sir.”
I had to chuckle. That much was obvious.
“Sir,” he continued. “I didn’t know that they were
going to be bare-assed. Oh, sir! I mean, bare
bottom. I’m sorry for the swear!”
Mikey let out a little sob, and I could tell the kid
was done. I’d spanked other people before, and
four was just my starting point. Sure, I’d applied
an amazing amount of force to Mikey’s little
behind, but still – he either had the most
sensitive ass I’d ever seen, or he was a very good
actor. “Sir, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about all of this!”
Mikey was still crying. “I’m sorry I asked to
borrow money, I’m sorry I pawned that
computer, I’m sorry I ruined your beach
weekend, and I’m sorry that I had to ask you to
pay for me to come out here. And I’m sorry that I
didn’t want to come up here before, I really did
play in the water for an hour because I was
scared and putting this off….”
“I figured that, bro,” I said quietly, as Mikey
continued to sniffle. I reached over and pulled
him toward me to give him a hug.
“May I please take my hands and elbows off your
mattress, sir?” he asked. I agreed, and he crawled
to me and gave me a hug.
“Corner, Mikey.” I snapped my fingers and
pointed to the corner of the bedroom, and he
obediently walked over and faced it. I walked up
behind him and put my hand on the back of his
head, gently pulling him away from it an inch or
two. “Don’t get tears on that wall, or I’ll give you
some more to get rid of,” I told him. “Now kneel.”
Mikey dutifully got down onto one knee, then
onto both. I swatted his butt with my hand and
told him to kneel straight up. He did. I pulled the
chair up behind him and sat there, while he
kneeled in what must have been a very
uncomfortable position.
I let him hold his
position in silence for a few minutes as I admired
the work I’d done on his bum. The redness was
real, and it was kind of hot…
I should mention at this point that, while I enjoy
giving a spanking sometimes, I rarely get to do it.
As much as ABDL’s are into spanking and being
spanked, Mikey was right – it often does reduce
the regression aspect of what we do. It’s more for
the humiliation factor, I think – and that’s
something not nearly enough ABDLs are into in
person. As much as it sucked to see this kid cry,
just knowing that he had wronged me – and
especially knowing that it was important to
make it up to me – having nailed this Mikey’s tail
gave me a sense of real satisfaction.
After about ten minutes Mikey raised his hand,
requesting permission to speak. I hadn’t said
anything about that, and thought it was adorable.
“Yes, Mikey?”
“This fucking hurts, bro. I mean, sir.”
I stood up, picked up the paddle, walked over,
and landed a good hard swat across his seat. I
knew it wasn’t nearly as hard as the other ones,
but I was sure it added to the intensity. Mikey
sucked in a little breath of air and began rubbing
his bottom.
“Hands at your sides, Mikey. No swearing.”
Mikey put his hands at his sides and drooped his
head. He was crying again, and I watched him
clench his butt over and over, trying to disperse
the pain.
Finally, he rose his hand again.
“Yes?”
What would come next would be a long-form
confession – to so many things. Mikey told me
stories about ways he’d fucked over his family
when he was little. He told me about the first
time he’d ever used drugs – he’d been eleven,
and he’d gotten them from his mom. I heard
stories about how he’d used drugs in junior high
school, and stories about the family members
he’d stolen money from to get more.
Mikey then gave me a list of the many times he’d
lied to me, confessing each individually. I could
see him grow more relaxed with each story, and
he apologized for each one, at one point
mentioning the old adage that confession really
is good for the soul.
I sat behind him, admiring his amazing (and now rosy red) bottom
and listening to him try to make everything right
with words. I could tell that he was trying to buy
time before what he thought would be his next
swat, but it was clear that he was really
benefitting from this confession time, too.
“Sir… I want to finish this,” he finally admitted. “I
don’t even know how many spankings I have left,
but I know it’s a lot. But this hurts so bad. I don’t
know if I can take twelve more!”
“You can stop anytime, Michael. I’ll be
disappointed, but…”
“No, don’t do it, sir!” Mikey blurted out,
interrupting me. “I’m not welshing on this, sir.
Just spank me over and over until you’re done!”
“You mean… repeatedly?”
“Please, sir. Just give me all of them at once. I can
take it. I mean, I don’t know if I can take it, but
I’m going to take it. Please… please, finish me all at once, sir.”
Mikey was desperate to make it stop, but
desperately trying to convince me to keep going,
too. I’d never spanked anyone so hard that they’d
shed real tears, and I was pretty surprised by all
of this. I figured it was finally time to let Mikey in
on the fact that I was done.
“You’re done, bro,” I told him. “That’s enough.”
Mikey turned around and looked at me with an
alarmed look on his face. He started crying again
– and those tears were 100% real. He shook his
head and begged me to keep going.
“If you don’t finish I’ll always feel like I owe you,
sir,” he told me. “I don’t want to live with that
shit on my – oh, poop.” Mikey got scared a little.
“I d-d-don’t want to have to l-l-live with feeling
like I ch-ch-cheated you on my conscience.
Please finish, sir.”
“No, I’m really done. As long as you’re done with
the swear words,” I told him, chuckling.
“No, sir, please finish.”
“Seriously, Michael. I am done. You just got six,
that’s all I am going to give you.”
“Sir, please – you said at least a dozen. Please
don’t stop until you’re done. I don’t want to live
with feeling like I welshed on our agreement.”
“No, Mikey, I’m seriously finished. I can find other ways to
punish you.”
“What other ways?” Mikey asked. “Because I
want to finish this so bad, but I just don’t know if
I can!”
I told Mikey he’d be spending more time in the
corner, and then we’d go from there. He was still
sniffling, and going on about not wanting me to
feel cheated.
“Sir, anything you want me to do I will do it.”
“What do you have in mind, Michael?”
Mikey stood on my command, but remained
facing the corner for quite some time. I watched
his bottom intently, half in love and half horrified
by how red it still was. I was glad there was no
bruising – another swat or two probably would
have left some, and I wouldn’t have felt good
about that.
As he pitched his proposal to me, it became clear
to me that this was something Mikey had been
thinking about for a little bit.
His idea of a “punishment” to make up for the
missing paddle swats? “Baby time” – he would
spend as much time as I wanted acting like a
baby.
“Total baby, sir. I’ll eat baby food. I’ll drink baby
formula. I’ll use my diaper. Everything.”
“Goo goo and gaga?”
“Yes, sir!”
I called Mikey over to me and lay back on the
bed, pulling him on top of me. He curled up onto
me and I put my hands on his bottom, rubbing it
intently. It was still warm, though not as hot as it
was mid-spank. Mikey wrapped his legs and
arms around me and clutched me almost as
tightly as he had in the lake earlier. It felt
amazing.
Mikey was still trembling, and I got a
sense that the spanking that he’d just received
was cathartic for him – it had made him confess a
whole bunch of secrets to me, and had made him
want to be treated like an infant, too. This was a
whole different Mikey than I’d seen for most of
the trip.
“I’m going to think about this,” I told Mikey.
In
truth I’d already decided, but I didn’t want to
come off as being able to be bought off so easily
with a promise to wear diapers.
“May I add in something, sir?”
I nodded.
“You can do unlimited rituals until I leave.”
I’d only had one left, and Mikey would be here
for another few days.
“Every single day?” I asked him, doubtfully.
“As many as you want in a day,” he told me.
“Unlimited means no limits, sir.”
We had a deal.
Mikey’s spanking ended around 9, and his corner
time lasted past 10. We still hadn’t had dinner,
and we were both hungry, so I diapered him and
pulled him onto the floor, ordering him to crawl
after me. I walked to the kitchen, pulled out a
pizza from the freezer, and walked over to the
oven, preheating it.
“I want Gerber!” Mikey cried out. “Pizza’s for the
big kids! Goo goo! I want Gerber!”
Mikey’s mastery of the language of ‘baby talk’
was so perfect I burst out laughing. A huge smile
spread across his face, and he started laughing
too. It was refreshing to see after watching him
sob or sniffle for so long.
“Gerber, Cwis! Gerber!”
And, with that, Mikey sat on the floor, banging
two pots together and murmuring baby talk
while I prepared the pizza. It was adorable, and –
I had to admit – actually way more fun than the paddling.
After pizza it was time for a bottle. I poured milk into a baby bottle and popped it
into the microwave.
“Moo juice! Yay, Cwis! Moo juice!”
Once it was heated I walked over to the couch
and sat down, motioning for Mikey to climb up.
He was well-trained from a week of being with me, now, and climbed right up and
laid across my lap in perfect bottle-feeding
position.
I put the bottle into his mouth and,
while he slurped away, rubbed his tummy. He
closed his eyes and almost purred while I did.
After nearly fifty minutes of smacking away the
bottle was done, and his diaper was wet. I was
crazy relaxed, and the smile on his face said that
he was too.
“Sing me a lullaby, Cwis!” he urged me.
“I’m not a very good singer,” I admitted. “And I’m
not sure I know a real lullaby.”
“Hold up,” he said, sitting up. The baby talk was
gone, now. “Aren’t you, like, the world’s foremost
expert on babysitting adult babies?”
“Well, I don’t know if – “
“Aren’t you the Dr. Spock of adult babies, bro?
You have a blog about it. How do you not know
how to sing a lullaby?”
“I could probably do one…”
He lay his head back down and smiled.
“Yay! Sing me! Sing me!”
So I began to sing.
“Hush little baby, don’t you cry…”
Mikey looked at me, a very serious look on his
face.
“Cwis is gonna sing you a lullaby…”
Mikey sat up, shaking his head.
“That’s not how it even goes,” he interrupted.
“Those aren’t even the words.”
“Want another spanking?” I joked, looking at him
sternly. He shook his head, and I put my head on
his forehead, pushing him back down.
I sat there, studying my memory, trying to think
of words to finish the song.
Then Mikey rolled over, plopping his little ass
onto the floor.
“Lay down with me, Chris. I have an idea…”
“What?” I asked suspiciously.
“Just trust me and do this for me.”
So I lay down on the floor.
Mikey sat up, climbed on top of me, and lay on
my chest. Then he looked into my eyes.
“Let me babysit you tonight.”
“Okay. Wait, what?” I asked, trying to sit up.
Mikey stayed right on my chest, keeping me
pinned down, and opened his mouth, letting spit
drip onto me.
“It’s your turn to be the baby,” he repeated. “I’ve
been diapered all week. You barely even put
them on, just a few times when we went
swimming and at night. You need some baby
time.”
“Yea… that’s probably not going to work, bro. But
I appreciate the offer.”
As I tried to explain that
my trust issues keep me from being able to let
other people regress me Mikey let a long string
of saliva drip off his tongue. I stopped talking as I
watched it come within an inch of his eye before
he slurped it back into his mouth. He giggled, and
then did it again. And again. And again.
“Someone is being silly,” I said, trying to
transition back to baby talk, but Mikey sat up
and, in a very serious – and very grownup –
voice, told me that it was my turn to get silly.
“Twust me, Baby Cwis… you’ll enjoy this.”
The spanking I’d given Mikey had been fierce,
and the time he’d spent in the corner had been
intense. The bottle feeding and baby talk
afterwards had been cathartic – I felt like we’d
bonded in the time we’d spent on the couch
doing tummy rubs and a few bars of a lullaby.
Could Mikey baby me? Probably not. But after
this week, and that spanking, I felt like I owed him.
So I sighed and nodded my head.
Mikey scampered around, gathering supplies. He
brought in a diaper, powder, and wipes, and then
poured milk into his bottle and put it in the
microwave.
“Feet up.”
Mikey was looming over me now, and I realized
he was planning to diaper me. I typically – and,
actually, exclusively – put my diaper on myself. I
told him that.
“Feet up.”
“No, seriously – I’ll just put it on. You can just
hang out.”
“Feet up.”
I didn’t move very quickly, and Mikey pulled my
feet up for me and gave me a smack across my
ass. The surprised look on my face made him
laugh, and before I could react he grabbed my
shorts and gave them a tug. They came right off.
“Feet up.”
I lifted my feet, and Mikey pushed them apart
and leaned over me, pushing a diaper
underneath my ass. Within moments he had a
baby wipe in his hand, and he very thoroughly
wiped me everywhere I'd been wiping him all week. A moment later I was being
powdered, and powder was being rubbed in.
“You’re actually pretty good at this,” I said,
visibly surprised.
“I learned from the best!” he said, and I got a
sense that he meant that.
Once my diaper was snug, Mikey leaned over and
put his arms around me, pulling me up to him.
He swung me around on my bottom, pulling me
toward the couch, and then plopped himself onto
it, motioning for me to climb up. I did, resting my
head in his lap, and he held out the bottle. I
closed my eyes, he popped it in, and I began to
slurp away.
As I lay there, sucking on my bottle, Mikey put
his fingers onto my tummy, tapping for a few
moments, and then rubbing it. It was relaxing as
fuck. I didn’t necessarily feel little, but I did feel –
good.
So. Good.
And then he started singing.
“Hush, little Cwissy, don’t say a word…”
I opened my eyes and looked up. Mikey looked
into my eyes, stopped rubbing my tummy, and
put his free hand over my eyes, closing them.
“Big bro Mikey’s gonna buy you a Mockingbird.”
His singing was amazing. Which shouldn’t have
been a surprise, since he’s an amazing singer. But
damn, this lullaby was on point.
“And if that Mockingbird won’t sing…
…big bwo is gonna buy you a diamond ring.”
I was so relaxed now that I felt like I might melt.
My tummy was being stroked, a bottle held to my
mouth, and an amazing ‘big bro’ – albeit half my
age – was singing me a lullaby. And nailing every
note.
“And if that diamond ring turns brass…
Mikey’s gonna buy you a looking glass.”
“You know all the lines?” I asked, surprised.
“Shhhh. And if that looking glass gets broke…
…big bro is gonna buy you a big sailboat.”
I opened my eyes again, and looked at him quizzically.
Those couldn’t be the actual lyrics could they?
Mikey giggled and whispered “Billy goat.”
The lullaby continued, and he did know every
single line.
And he sang it like a pro. We’re talking American
Idol status. His voice filled the room. I seriously
wanted to cry…
As I lay there, my tummy full and with this
amazing music filling my ears, I thought about
the situation. Two months ago Mikey had been
addicted to heroin. Two weeks ago, he had been
living on the ground in the woods. Two hours
ago, I’d been paddling the shit out of him while
he bawled like a baby. And now he was making
me feel loved and cared for, taking care of me
like it came naturally to him.
“I feel like you have practice with this,” I finally
said.
“I sing a lot,” he told me.
“The babysitting part, dummy. Diapering. Bottle feeding.
Lullaby singing…”
“Well, you know I have two younger brothers,”
he said. “My mom didn’t get any better with
them then she was with me.”
“So you did all of this for them?” I asked him.
“Well, I’m the only kid in the family who rocks…”
It wasn’t lost on me that the kid who was a
natural at taking care of others had a lifetime
struggle taking care of himself.
It was midnight before my toddler time was
done.
I was exhausted, and so was Mikey. We’d
crawled around, played with toys, and even
wrestled a little. Most of the time I was just
enjoying Mikey take on the role of a caregiver,
but there were times that he really made me feel
little.
A few times I mentioned that he could probably
be an ‘abysitter’ professionally.
“People in my community might hire you to
babysit,” I told him. “You’re really good at this.”
“Is that an actual job?” he asked, seeming
interested.
“Probably not,” I told him. “But put an ad on my
blog – who knows!”
We were winding down and getting ready for
bed when he reminded me that I had one of my
now-unlimited rituals.
“I’m not sure, bro – I might just go to sleep.
Maybe we can just lay there or something. You
can rock me to sleep…”
But Mikey was insistent. He told me he wouldn’t
be able to fall asleep if he felt like I hadn’t gotten
it out of the way. I reminded him that there
wasn’t a limit anymore, and he told me that
didn’t matter.
“You let me out of the rest of that spanking. Now
you need to get what we agreed to.”
So, without further discussion, I followed Mikey
into the bedroom. He lay down on the bed in his
usual position, and I lay down in between his
legs and started to hump.
I got hard quickly – surprisingly quick, I thought,
probably on account of the toddlerization I’d just
experienced.
I lay there, pumping the mattress,
and it felt so good. Some of you probably know
what I’m talking about: when you diaper a hot
boy and are doing stuff for the first time, it feels amazing – even more amazing than usual. This
was one of the most amazing feelings I’d ever
had in a diaper, and I wasn’t sure if it was the
babysitting or the spanking that had taken place
earlier, but I knew it was one of those.
“Put your hands under me,” Mikey blurted out.
“Where?” I asked him. My hands were already
under his stomach.
“I’m going to wet. Put them under my diaper.”
Prior to tonight I’d avoided putting my hands on
Mikey’s diaper area while I humped – I felt like
he tensed up the first times that I did it, so I had
decided not to do it again. Now he was asking me
to. He didn’t need to ask twice. I put my hands
there, cupping his groin in my hands. Within a
second or two he was flooding his diaper – the
wetness became noticeable right away, and felt
good against my skin.
“I know you like that,” he told me. “I thought I
could help you out.”
“Definitely like that, bro,” I told him.
When he was done he relaxed. I kept my hands
underneath him, cupping his penis, waiting to
see what he would do next. He became quiet and
lay there, still. I decided to put my thumbs into
the leggings of his diaper, to get a better feel for
the wetness – I wondered if he would object.
He didn’t, so I rubbed him for a little bit. I felt
him get hard, and he moved his body
around, trying to get comfortable.
As I lay there,
humping the mattress, I pushed my chin into the
crack of his ass, giving him a “diaper wedgie” –
his words – and rubbing the front of his diaper
with my fingers.
That went on for more than twenty minutes. I
heard Mikey moaning quietly, in between deep, heavy
breaths. After a few more minutes he started
moving his bottom up and down, pushing the
front of his diaper against my hands. It was dark,
the only light coming from the next room, but I
could see the outline of that amazing bottom
being pushed up into my face, and every time he
raised it I got a little harder.
I was just a minute or two away from coming,
and I wondered if he was going to come too. And
then, out of the blue:
“Cwis. I need to take a shower.”
I stopped.
Instantly went soft.
What. The. Fuck.
“Mikey – I can finish first, right?”
“No, Cwis. I need a shower. Now.”
This kid couldn’t be serious.
“Why right this minute?” I asked him.
He could
tell that I was irritated, but he was already
moving, trying to get up, so I rolled off of him as
he gave me some excuse about not wanting to
wear a wet diaper against an uncircumcised
penis. Within seconds his diaper was on the
ground and he was in the shower, water running.
And that’s when it hit me. For all of the times I’d
jerked off over the past week or so – at least four,
according to my count – I hadn’t seen Mikey
masturbate at all.
In fact, he made it a point to try to stay soft while
I humped.
Tonight had been weird for both of us. It was an
amazing hour or so cuddling in the lake, one
severe bare-bottom spanking, and hours of ‘baby
time’. And then, some seriously hot diaper sex.
I realized that Mikey was about to come – and he
didn’t want to do it in front of me.
I couldn’t blame him, I guess. He was straight,
after all. I’d pushed this about as far as it could
be pushed – as had he – but at the end of the day
he needed to be able to move on to his next
destination with his masculinity intact.
“Don’t be mad, you know I love you big little bro!
Or little big bro! Or – you know,” Mikey called
out playfully.
I was annoyed, but as he did whatever he was
doing in there I turned over and lay there,
thinking about the day.
Did I really have any right to complain?
I’d just had one of the hottest – and best – days of
my life.
By the time Mikey turned the water off and came
back out he had his underwear on. I could tell
that he wasn’t feeling little anymore – ejaculating
in the shower will do that to you.
“Do you want me to go out so you can finish?” he
asked me.
I thought about that for a second. And then I
decided against it.
“I don’t need to finish. I just want you to rock me
to sleep, if you’re cool with that.”
“Fuck yea, little big bro,” he said, smiling. “I got
you.”
And he lay down next to me, inches his way over,
and started to rock.
As he did, he put an arm over me, and pushed me
until I was sort of rocking along with him.
“Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop…
…when the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall…
…and down will come Cwissy, cradle and all!”
[CWIS'S NOTE] I started writing the ‘Mikey & Me’ series in
2011. I wrapped it up in 2016.
Why did it take me five years to finish this?
Mikey is one of my best friends. And after the
two weeks we spent together during the
summer of 2011, our friendship was
intensified exponentially.
Mikey took to calling me his ‘big brother’, and
our contact was daily for a long, long time.
The night after the story above, he begged me
to let me come to Florida with me. He told me
that I brought out the best of him. He didn’t
want the ‘unlimited rituals’ to continue
forever, but he was willing to rock a diaper
from time to time, split the rent, and cover his
own expenses. He’d lived in Orlando before,
and thought that he could do it now that he
knew me better and knew the kind of
influence I’d be in his life. But I wasn’t set up to have a roommate at the
moment - I'd just signed a lease on a studio apartment. I told him I’d consider it when my lease was up. So, instead
I put him on the bus – he’d been invited to
stay with another musician, and perhaps
even tour with that person’s band, and I thought
making music might be good for him, and
told him that.
Mikey had told me he was worried that
the person he’d be staying with – an ex-addict
– would relapse, and take him down with
him. In the end, that’s exactly what happened. And it only
took a few weeks. Mikey had spent more than two
weeks with me, completely substance-free.
After two weeks at his next destination he
began calling me asking for financial help - little "loans" here and there - and I started to figure out what was up, no matter how many times he denied it.
Then I called his phone and the owner of the
pawn shop he’d pawned it to answered. To
say that I was devastated would be an
understatement.
In the four years since, Mikey has moved
several times, battling heroin addiction and
homelessness. He has called me from his car when he was living in it, and has called me from the park bench he was sleeping on. I cut him off financially the same summer he visited me, but a
year ago I did pay for his plane ticket to move to the
state he lives in now. I’m happy to report
that he’s doing well – engaged with a baby on
the way, working hard, going to college, substance-free for
more than a year, and working on music
again.
During the times that he’s been doing well I
sit down to write the next installment of the
story, and it comes easy to me. During the times he’s addicted, or just straight up missing, it’s hard to even
think about it, much less write the story for my
blog.
This was one of the best weeks I’ve ever had.
If I could do it over and over I would. But
that’s not practical, for a lot of reasons, the
least of which is the fact that Mikey isn’t
really ABDL.
My ABDL goal now is to find a Mikey –
perhaps a gay/ABDL version – and make a
life with them. I would kill to have
another two weeks like this. I once thought
that a serious relationship wasn’t for me, but
two weeks with a straight, non-ABDL
diaperboy was enough to wake me up to the
reality. Thanks for letting me share the story, and
being so patient as I struggled to write it.
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