Story Time! How I Came To Be An ABDL - by LittleBabyJedi

Up today I have a story and some photos from LittleBabyJedi. 

LittleBabyJedi has contributed diaper pictures to the blog before, under a different username. He's consolidated things into one ABDL persona, which happens to be on Tumblr: LittleBabyJedi. 

HOW I CAME TO BE AN ABDL

by LittleBabyJedi

[PHOTOS COPYRIGHT ABYSITTER.COM]

[DO NOT REDISTRIBUTE WITHOUT PERMISSION]

How did I come to be an ABDL? 

It goes all the way back to when I was 6-8 years old. I remember having dreams of being diapered and wanting to wear diapers. I couldn't understand why I was having these dreams. All I knew is that every night when I went to bed I would dream about diapers. About this time my youngest brother was still a baby. I would dream of taking his place or be jealous that he was in diapers.

I remember that anytime a commercial came on for diapers that it would grab my attention. The same with cartoons that had diapers in them.

I remember taking one of my brothers diapers one night and putting it on. It felt natural, safe, and I felt at peace. Over time my little stash under my bed grew. Then my supply stopped when my mom switched my brother from disposable diapers to cloth diapers. I didn't know what I was going to do.

I wasn't using any of the diapers that I collected. I didn't what my mom would do when she would notice extra diapers in the diaper pail. Finally one night I decide to use one of the diapers. I just wet it and fell asleep wearing. The next morning I hid it in a bag under my bed. Well my mom was cleaning the room while I was at school and found my stash and the wet diaper. At this time I was sharing a room with my other brother who was 3 years younger than me. My mom gathered my brother, my sister, and myself in the room and wanted to know whose stash it was and why she found it. None of us answered. So she diapered all three of us and left us in the room till one of us confessed. Several hours later she came in and said we could take them off. My stash was taken.

I didn't know what to do at this point.

I should probably take a break here to explain a little about my childhood. I am the oldest of 4. I don't really know my biological father, cause my mom divorced him when I was 2. There was a big court case and I was the center of it. I don't remember any of it cause I was so young. I don't remember a lot of my childhood. What I do remember is only negative stuff. The stuff that one should not remember from their childhood. My step dad has a temper. He was always yelling and angry. He would hit the walls but never any of us. I was always scared of him, to were I never wanted to help him with projects. I don't remember having a childhood. I always had my nose in a book growing up, I was into comics and star wars. Was always imagining that I was in the books I was reading. I never was close with any of my siblings. I was the outcast.

Ok back to my story.

Now that my mom has taken my stash, I was back to dreaming of them, keeping my eye out for diaper commercials. Sometime later I am not sure how long my mom went back to work. So now we had to go to a babysitters. My luck changed when the babysitter had a little one in diapers. I started to sneak diapers home in bag. Grew my diaper stash back up. Then my mom found my stash again. This time she loads all four of us kids up into the car and heads towards the store. She says that she is going to diaper all four us up in the store and make us wear diapers till one of us tells her why she found diapers again. Half way to the store I speak up that the diapers were mine. She asks why I had them. Response I gave her was that I was curious about how they were made. Don't know if she believed me or not, but she did turn the car around and head back home.

After that I was left with just dreaming about diapers. It was at this point that I started to find other ways to wear diapers. I would put a cloth diaper in my underwear to simulate a diaper, I would wear multiple pairs of underwear, would also take hand towels and put them in my underwear to simulate a diaper. I did this for many, many years.

This continued into middle, junior high, and high school. There were time that I could get my hands on a diaper or two. I would take two baby diapers and tape them end to end to make a diaper that I could wear and fit into.

All through the years I thought that I was the only one that liked diapers. That I was going to go to hell, and never find anyone to be with. My life has not been a pleasant one. There has been a lot of negative in. I was bullied all through my childhood, al the way up to my junior year of high school. My family was always moving growing up.

I have been on the internet since it first came out. Always hanging out at the town library, helping people set up email address, and teaching people how to use the internet.

It wasn't till about 1998 that we got internet at the house. This is when I started to search to see if I was the only one. I had been flipping through a Readers Digest and saw an ad for goodnites. The first thing I ever searched for on the internet that was ABDL related was goodnites. The first two sites that I ever found that were ABDL were Deeker Diapers and Riley Kilo's site. I don't remember what the name or Riley's site was called at that time. I learned from both that A) I wasn't the only one and B) that there was a term for it all Diaper Lover and Adult Baby. Two other sites I remember were DPF and ABY. Sadly none of the site are still up except Riley's site Staypadded.com.

It was such a relief to learn that I wasn't the only one interested in diapers. I would boot up the computer and have it dial in for the internet. Yes I go that far back. I would go on after everyone else went to bed. I would look at pictures and read stories for hours. I remember having email pen pals with other DL's in other states.

I was very luckily back than that my parents never found out what I was doing back than. They thought I was up doing school research or play either Warcraft II or Starcraft. I was lucky in that back than the tenement was still knew and we didn't know about clearing the history or as I learned later to also clear cookies and the temp internet files.

In 2001 the family moved from California where I grew up to Kentucky my junior year of high school. By this time I had found more sites and more online communities. Also had several online ABDL friends as well.

During my senior of high school I had a job and a car, so I bought my first bag of Depends Diapers from Rite Aid. At the time I thought they were amazing. Later, many years later I would learn that they were not and that there were better diapers.

Beginning or my senior year my mom found not only my stash of diapers but my stash of diaper stories that I had printed out, and my history on the computer. She took me to see a counselor. The counselor and I only ever talked about diapers that first day. After the we only talked about day to day stuff. I ended up seeing the counselor twice a week my entire senior year of high school.

I don't remember when it was that year but my mom pulled me into her room one night to talk. She said that she didn't care what I did as long as I was happy and safe. The only thing she asked was that I don't do any of it in the house cause of my siblings. She was afraid about how they would respond and didn't want me to get hurt. I respected her wish and did a purge. As a quick side note I have done several purges over the years. Well that initial purge only lasted about a month I think.

This time when I started to get diapers back and go back online to the sites, I got better at hiding both my stash and tracks. I kept the diapers in my car in a GAP bag. Started to save stuff to disks, ( this was before flash drives, was still using disks in school) and learned how to better cover my tracks on the computer.

I would do a purge every time I started to see a girl ( before I came out and entirely different story). The purge would last about a few weeks to a month. I was afraid of them finding out. I got smarter and instead of getting rid of my stash I would just hide it and not use it.

Fast forward some years.

It wasn't till my last girlfriend that several things came to face. First off she was the first person I told about my other side. She was accepting. She would allow me to wear around her, to the movies and such. She even bought me cloth diapers and plastic pants to try. It was at this point that I started to identify as a DL with AB tendencies. I liked pacifiers, bottles, and loved the idea of onesies and sleepers.

She was also the one that helped me realize and discover that I was gay ( like I said another story).

Skip ahead some more... 

I met my first ABDL in person. We met here on Fetlife. We were chatting and i had mentioned I was having a problem with my external hard drive and he said he could take a look at it and see if he could fix it. So a week later I go to his house and he takes a look at it. While he is looking at we start talking comics, star wars and such. Well to may a long story short we ended up becoming best friends. We would hang out once a week watching movies, or playing video games in diapers.

It was thanks to him that I got introduced to Abena M4, Super Dry Kids, and Teddy diapers. Which are all on my favorite diaper list. I also start to explore my little side more. Using pacifiers, and bottles more when I was over at his place. I found out that I was submissive. Problem was so was he, so I was made to be the big when we hung out, never little always the big bro who wore diapers.

I was listening to the BigLittlePodcast one day (Show Note) and heard about someone named Benny who made AB clothes on etsy, whose shop was called Never Grown Up. I looked them up on etsy and commissioned a batman onesie. After a short wait I was awarded with my first piece of AB clothes. I was in heaven. Sad to say that the shop is no longer open.

By now I have met a few other ABDL's in the area. We would hang out at my best friends house, play video games and be diapered.

Skip ahead to the past few months.

January I moved from Kentucky to Maryland. Shortly after moving here I started to catch myself sucking my thumb at night, feeling really little, watching a lot of cartoons, wanting to be diapered and looked after. A good friend pointed out that I was an AB and this was natural. I am wanting to explore this more. I like diapers, bottles, sippy cups, pacifiers, onesies and sleepers. I like to play with legos, have nerf gun wars, watching disney movies and cartoons. I don't like to do baby talk or baby food.

I am making a lot of new friends int DMV area. I am surprised at how many ABDL's or age players there are in the area. First day off that I get that falls on the DC little munch, I plan on attending.

Don't forget to check out his Tumblr:

LittleBabyJedi.tumblr.com

Got a story or photos to share? 
Email me!
abysitter@gmail.com
18+, of course! 

STORY TIME! The CB Radio & The Trucker - Part IV

STORY TIME! The CB Radio & The Trucker - Part IV

STORY TIME! I wrote the Part I and Part II to this story last month, and Part III a week ago. Click those links to get caught up. BUT BE AWARE: there is some sexuality in this series, so if you're an innocent little diaperdunce and you don't want to get caught up in all the X-RATED ish, these entries might not be for you...

PART IV: THE END

I awoke to the sound of a knock at the door.

At first I thought I must be dreaming. I checked my flip phone, plugged in on the table next to me. It was 1 a.m.

No missed calls.

Who could be at the door?

My first thought was my next door neighbor, Andrea. She'd told me that she was having a friend over while her children were out of town with their father... I doubted she'd be knocking on my door at 1 a.m., but the building was a mess, with basement flooding, electricity issues, and bats in the attic. (You may have read my story about that in a previous blog entry). Maybe something had happened.

I put pajamas over my diaper and stumbled around looking for a t-shirt. Finally finding one I put it on and made my way down the stairs to the front door. I peeked out of the blinds and could clearly make out the form of a male.

Hmm.

Andrea's friend?

Or could it be a prison guard from two doors down? The third apartment in our building was essentially a flop house for prison guards. It was occupied by at least ten guards who used it overnights on occasion, since all lived in another part of the state and were only working at the prison nearby until they could get re-assigned to one closer to home. This low seniority in the prison system meant that they were young, fit males; I'd hoped that one would knock on my door at 1 a.m. many times, but never thought it would actually happen.

Now I wondered... wtf? Wrong apartment?

I opened the door and, instead of finding a prison guard, I saw a trucker.

It was Kyle.

The look on my face must have been one of complete surprise, because he instantly started laughing. He held my business card up to my eye line, and there I caught it: my apartment address.

"Maybe I should have called first," he told me.

"Well... it's okay... I mean... what are you..." I mumbled.

"What am I doing here?" Kyle asked, a big smile forming on his face. "Waking you up, apparently. Can I come in?"

I was surprised, to say the least. I moved out of his way, and he stepped past me and flung a backpack onto the floor. I stepped out into the parking lot and looked around. A prison guard stood outside the apartment to the right, smoking a cigarette. He nodded. I nodded back. I looked around the parking lot, which was filled with vehicles, as it often was from midnight to morning. I didn't see a Corvette. I wondered where Kyle had parked. I turned around to ask him, and saw that he was butt naked in my kitchen. My train of thought now completely vanished, I simply closed the door.

Kyle walked up to me and patted my bottom. Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle.

"Good, I'm glad to see that you're wearing a diaper," he told me. "Now I know you're not just some fake who shows up at truck stops pretending to be into this diaper fetish thing." I laughed, because I'd told Kyle about my theory that some of the people in our community aren't really into diapers at all, that they pretend just to be to meet hot young diaperboys. Kyle had remembered.

"I am running low on diapers," I admitted. I lived at the time in an apartment more than an hour in two directions from my source of diapers, and I'd been picking up a lot of OT shifts. I had only a few left.

"Not to worry, bro," Kyle replied, pointing at his backpack. "I came prepared." With that he unzipped it and revealed Molicares, Attends, and some other diapers I'd never seen before.

Kyle zipped it up and tossed the bag at me, and I caught it. Then he dropped to his knees, lay on his back, and began kicking his feet in the air, sucking his thumb.

"Uhhh... let's go upstairs," I suggested. He nodded vigorously but made no attempt to move. I walked to the stairs, turned, and waited. He continued to lay on the floor.

"You have to carry me," he informed me. I had to laugh. Kyle was slim and fit, but muscular and I knew there was no way in hell I could lift him off the ground, let alone carry him. I shook my head. "Then I'm not moving!" he told me. He was trying to use a little kid's voice, and while he didn't do a very good job his attempt was adorable. His legs continued to kick, and I had a thought. I walked over to him, bent over, and gave him about as hard a smack on his bottom as I could manage. He looked surprised, but instantly stopped kicking. "Oh yea," he said, in the voice of a grown-ass Kyle now. "Okay, I forgot you were into that, too. Yes, I will crawl..."

And with that he crawled across the floor, put one knee up onto the stairs, and began the long, slow crawl up to the top. I stood behind him, carrying his diaper bag, his amazing bottom in my face the whole way.  I love an amazing bottom. I was in heaven. When we got to the top of the stairs he waited for me to point the way. I directed him into the bedroom and up onto my bed. It seemed a shame to cover that ass with a diaper, but I pulled out the mystery diaper and taped it on him.

The diaper turned out to be some cheap-o drugstore diaper. I immediately wished I'd picked the Attend; they were thicker and had a better quality covering. Still, the thin diaper I'd chosen made Kyle's ass show very nicely. I turned him over and pushed him toward the top of my bed, then lay down on the mattress between his legs. I put my face down on his diapered bum and began to hump. He let out a kind of yawn, stretched, and pushed his bottom up into my face a little.

I love using an amazing diapered bottom as my pillow.

I continued to hump. At some point I pushed my fingers into the leggings of his diaper and found his penis. It was hard. As I humped I began playing with his shaft, rubbing it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I felt it grow even more, and that made me get even harder. I was humping faster now, and Kyle spread his knees and kind of pushed his ass up into the air. I put my chin square in the center of his behind, rubbed the tip of his penis, and continued to hump. Kyle began to shudder, and after about thirty seconds told me that he was about to squirt. I immediately stopped what I was doing and let him go soft.

 "Damn, bro," he said. "That's just mean." Kyle was laughing, and I let him know I'd help him come after I was finished. He shook his head. "You're torturing me, huh?"

Then Kyle asked me if it was okay if he wet his diaper.

"You mean while I'm doing my thing?" I asked him. ("My thing" is code for humping, for anyone who hasn't yet figured that out). Kyle nodded. I'd never had someone wet their diaper while I was doing it, and I wondered how that would affect my whole humping routine. Still, I realized that I hadn't asked if Kyle had to use the bathroom before he'd arrived. I agreed.

Have you ever felt someone wet their diaper? It's hot as fuck. I've since experienced it a few times, but this was my first. With my fingers still inside of Kyle's diaper, he flooded it. My fingers got soaked, and I removed them, placing my hands square underneath the front of his diaper.

I could feel the diaper get warm - almost hot - and get soggy soaking wet. It was an amazing feeling, and as I lay resting my head on his bottom I could feel the wetness travel up his asscrack and begin to change the consistently of the part of his diaper that was serving as my pillow.

"You really had to piss, huh bro?" I asked him. He nodded vigorously. "Wow, I'm not sure if I've ever felt such a wet diaper..."

"Fuck," he replied. "I think I leaked."

I pulled my hands out from underneath him and felt around. Sure enough, he had. My bed had a big wet spot on it.

"I'm sorry, Chris," he told me, and I could see that he was embarrassed. "I didn't mean to get your mattress wet. I'll pay for that to be cleaned, okay?"

Nonsense! I explained to Kyle that I had to do laundry anyway.

"Besides," I told him, "do you think this is the first time that my bed has gotten wet from a leaky diaper? Really?"

Kyle laughed and seemed to feel more comfortable again. I pushed my hands back up under his joint and, as I did, I could feel the diaper leaking even more. I pushed my face back into his bum and noticed that it had a completely difference feeling now - no longer was it soft and padded - it was wet and kind of hard. I sort of preferred the softness of the dry diaper, but this was a new experience and I wanted to try it...

I continued to hump. Kyle smelled of pee, now. I couldn't tell whether to be turned on or disgusted. I've never gotten into water sports (although I've always been very curious about it), but something about a hot trucker with an amazing ass laying in a soaked diaper seemed hot. I busted just a few minutes later, and flipped an all-to-willing Kyle over so that I could play with his for a little.

Kyle was hard again, and it didn't take long for him to get even harder. But he had a special request.

"Yo, Chris... can I hump on you this time?" he asked. I agreed and began to turn over and move to his position on the bed, but he shook his head. "Just lay still," he told me. Kyle then proceeded to crawl up onto me, lining his soaking wet diaper up with my diaper. He humped for about two minutes, shivered, smiles, and lay still.

"That... was... amazing," he told me. I was glad that he'd had such an amazing experience, but I realized how one-sided diaper humping is. I was seeing it from the other side; the person doing the diaper humping is ejaculating and you're just laying there waiting for it to be over. Still, I couldn't complain; it was hot AF. The aww-so-cute smile on his face was the icing on the cake. Kyle still on top of me, I couldn't move. I asked him to turn off the light, and he reached over and did, then lay back on top of me, his head resting on my chest.

He put his thumb in his mouth. I knew he was just doing the 'little' thing to make me happy, since he'd never mentioned being into the AB side before, but it made my heart melt. As I lay in bed I stared at the ceiling, watching an orange glow from outside flickering - probably someone having a campfire on the beach across from the apartment, I thought. Kyle began to breath heavily, and I could tell that he was asleep. I pulled his legs apart so that he was straddling me, and tried to make myself a little more comfortable. A few minutes later, so was I.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

I was again awoken to the sound of knocking. This time it was louder and more deliberate. I looked around. Kyle was laying next to me, his soaked butt poking into my side. I rolled over and climbed out of bed, put on a pair of shorts over my still-dry diaper, and walked to the stairs. Kyle remained sleeping.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

"Coming!" I shouted. I wondered who could be at my door now. Had Kyle blocked someone in? Was Andrea's car broken down again? I looked at the clock on the stereo; it was after 8. I walked into the living room. The blinds were closed, but it still seemed dark. I hoped that it wasn't raining; I'd wanted to take Kyle across the street to the beach, maybe even go swimming before he left.

I opened the door. In front of me stood a sheriff's deputy. He looked at me. I was surprised to see law enforcement at the door. I stepped outside and looked around. Andrea was gone, as was her 'friend'. All the prison guards were gone as well. The parking lot was empty, save for the Sheriff vehicle. Nothing seemed to be going on. Hmm.

"I'm trying to figure out who belongs to the truck," the deputy explained.

I looked around. He was standing in front of an SUV with "XXXX SHERIFF" on the side. I looked at him, a little perplexed by the question.

"Isn't that yours?" I asked.

"Not the Tahoe," he told me. "The big rig."

I stepped outside and looked around again.

"Around front. Parked on the street," he said.

"Wait," I asked him. "Do you mean to tell me there's a...." my voice trailed off. I could hear Kyle stirring upstairs, and then heard his feet hit the floor.

"US Express?" the deputy offered, trying to be helpful.

"Uhhh... that might be my friend," I told him. I heard Kyle walking to the stairs. It occurred to me that he'd been wearing nothing but a very, very soaked disposable diaper just a few minutes before.

"Kyle," I called out. "There's a deputy sheriff here..."

 I didn't know what else to say. I heard Kyle call out that he knew, and then he came bounding down the stairs. I saw that he was wearing long underwear - he must have carried those around all year, even in spring, I thought - and, underneath, a very thick, wet diaper was showing. He put on a small Abercombie shirt, but it did nothing to cover the bulge. The deputy noticed and looked surprised, but said nothing. He did, however, ask if Kyle owned the Freightliner parked outside.

"Sure do," Kyle replied. "Why, did ya run into it?"

"Uhhh... no," the deputy said. "It's just that... this road isn't really wide enough for a tractor trailer to stay parked on it... "

"Oh, I won't be here for much longer," Kyle told him. "Just long enough for a shower, a shave, maybe a quick breakfast. Another hour or two tops."

"Well... okay..." the deputy answered. He seemed to not know how to address this. I was still shocked that Kyle had driven his fucking truck to my house. That explained why I hadn't seen his Corvette, or any other vehicle that belonged to him, although the lot was sometimes so full that it required people park on the side lawn, out of view of the apartment. I slowly walked to the front window and opened the blinds. There it was - Kyle's truck, HUGE AS FUCK, parked on the street, completely obscuring the view of the lake in front of the building - and the sun as well.

"That explains why it seems so dark," I mumbled. The deputy laughed.

"That truck is bigger than this building, I think," he said. Then he asked Kyle if he could put some more flares out behind it. I immediately realized what I'd seen glowing through the window the night before - traffic flairs. And Kyle's blinking hazard lights, probably.

Kyle agreed, and grabbed his keys and walked outside. His diaper was obvious through his long underwear, and it kind of smelled a little. The deputy looked at me, and then back at Kyle, but apparently thought better of saying anything. I walked outside, too, and realized that the crinkle of my still-dry diaper was apparent. It didn't seem like the deputy noticed - or maybe he was just trying to be polite. Anyway, we followed Kyle's padded ass down the driveway and into the road, and watched him jump up into the cab. He came outside with two additional flares, placed them by the burned-out remnants of the other flares, and lit them.

"I just have a question," the deputy finally spoke. I hoped that his question wouldn't be about diapers.

"I'm incontent," Kyle said, as if anticipating it.

"Incontinent?" the deputy corrected him, and Kyle looked at me and started to laugh. I could tell he didn't give fuck one about being seen in a diaper. Maybe because he didn't live in this town. I did, though, and I sort of wished that we'd both changed first. But that wasn't the deputy's question anyway. "I wasn't going to ask about that," he said. "I was just wondering... how did you get this truck down Lake Street?"

"Oh, that?" Kyle answered. "Let's just say... slowly and carefully. Slowly, and carefully."

Kyle climbed back into the cab, and the deputy turned to me with a confused look on his face.

"I'll be damned," he told me. "The railroad bridge is only 11' high. I have no idea how your friend made it under that. That's some amazing driving." With that he walked toward his truck and opened the door. I could see he was still shaking his head in wonderment. Kyle walked around the corner whistling. "Just have it off the road before it gets dark, okay?" the deputy said, and Kyle nodded.

"Of course!"

With that the deputy drove off.

"Sorry, bro," Kyle said, turning to me with an embarrassed look on his face. I couldn't tell if he was referring to the diaper or parking his truck on the road. It didn't matter - as long as there were no tickets to be written, I was okay with either.

"How did you get under the bridge?" I asked him.

"Fuck that," he replied. "That shit's 11 feet high. I could never drive underneath that. I just drove up to the other end of the street and backed this shit down the road."

"What the fuck?" I blurted out. "Dude... that's like a quarter-mile from the turn around."

"I know, Chris... I backed down it. It took me thirty minutes."

It occurred to me that Kyle probably hadn't called ahead because he figured I'd tell him not to come. An 18-wheeler really wasn't a good fit for Lake Street. The street was narrow, and on one side sat a cliff overlooking the lake - backing just a little crooked could result in catastrophe.

"I can tell what you're thinking, bro," Kyle told me. "I'm a good driver. Mad backing skills!"

"But that's at least a quarter mile, dude," I repeated. I was picturing how hard it must have been.

"Chris... I live my life a quarter mile at a time," Kyle said, in complete seriousness. "Nothing else matters. Not the mortgage. Not the store. Not my team and all their bullshit. For those thirty minutes to an hour, I'm free."

I had to laugh. I'd seen The Fast and the Furious, too.

"Besides," he told me. "I knew what was waiting at the end..."

I made pancakes for breakfast, and Kyle stepped into the bathroom, took a shower, and came out into the kitchen with nothing but a towel wrapped around his mid-section. He sat at the table just as I was putting a plate of pancakes down.

"I'm hungry as fuck, bro."

We sat and ate in silence. Kyle was beautiful. I thought, again, at how lucky I was to have met him. The last time we'd seen each other Kyle had found me randomly on the CB. This time he'd just surprised me. I'd lucked out both times. I thought about the fact that he'd wanted to see me badly enough to back down a crazy-ass road in a huge-ass truck.

I was lucky as fuck.

Honestly, the night before had been an exercise in hotness that could not compare. But as I sat there watching Kyle across the table, chomping on our pancakes, I realized that, even if he hadn't wanted to wear a diaper, I wouldn't have cared. Just having him here was amazing. I'd first met him in the middle of a snowstorm, and our relationship had started off with me helping him find his way. Now he had become a friend.

Lucky. As. Fuck.

After we ate Kyle stood up and took his towel off.

"Let's go swimming!" he suggested. I could see how excited he looked. The lake in question is deep, and takes a long time to warm up in the spring; I started to explain to him that it would be too cold, but he interrupted me. "C'mon bro, I drove all this way to walk around diapered on the beach with you... let's do this."

"Let me get a swimsuit," I answered. I went upstairs and got two, changing in to one and bringing the other one back to Kyle. He grabbed his towel and a second one for me, and then grabbed a diaper out of his backpack.

"You aren't going to wear a diaper?" he asked me. He looked disappointed. I started to explain that the beach wasn't that private, but then thought better of it. The neighbors were all gone. Nobody ever used that beach except me, anyway - the prison guards only slept here, and Andrea and her kids couldn't swim.

"Let me go get one on," I answered. Kyle replied that we could diaper each other, so we went upstairs and did just that.

"Cover up," I told him, throwing the swimsuit at him. He looked annoyed, but obeyed.

 "Afraid to be seen parading around in your Pampers?" he asked me. "I understand. Just because one of us is proud to be diapered doesn't mean both of us are." I could tell he was joking but I did feel a little pang of embarrassment; I wished that wearing diapers outdoors was as normal for society as it felt for me.

Kyle and I walked down the driveway and around to the other side of his truck. I saw how close he was to the cliff - less than six inches away. A stiff breeze would blow this thing over. I shook my head. Then I realized that his truck completely blocked the view of the beach from the road. This could be win/win...

Kyle had I walked down the steps and stepped onto the beach. It was deserted, as it almost always was. The sunshine was warm now that we'd passed the truck blocking it. Kyle immediately stepped out of his swimming trunks and tossed them onto an adirondack chair.

"This what you've been dreaming about?" he asked me, and as I watched he posed in his diaper. I nodded. There was that lucky feeling again. "I remember you telling me about wearing diapers on the beach before," he told me. "I thought, this is something I want to experience."

Kyle walked out toward the water and I watched him. I realized how things had seemed different in the sleeper cab of his truck. Like, even though I could tell he was amazing, I hadn't gotten the full experience. Seeing his stretched out, standing on the beach, in nothing but a diaper... holy fuck.

Kyle stepped into the water and stopped cold.

"What... the... FUCK, brah," he said, turning to look at me. "This water is like... ice."

"It just seems cold when you first get into it," I told him. "You get used to it."

He took a few more steps, and then turned back to me. The look on his face was one of sheer discomfort.

"Are you coming in, Chris?" he asked me.

"Fuck no!" I replied. "That shit's like 50 degrees."

"Um, yea. Fuck that," he said, turning and walking back out. "I think we can enjoy the beach from the beach." With that he plopped his adorable ass into a lounge chair and turned over, the sun warming his bottom. I knew that feeling. I lay down in the lounge chair next to him and, reached over, putting my hand on his bum. I rubbed for a while, and then Kyle began to breathe heavy. I couldn't tell if he was sleeping, but I stopped rubbing and he mumbled for me to continue. I did, and after a while could hear him snoring. I lay there, aware of the stairs (in case someone came down them, lol) but mostly just enjoying the view.

An hour or two later Kyle woke up.

"Was I sleeping?" he asked me, looking surprised.

"Yep."

"Damn, bro... that felt so good. The sun just warms your ass up."

"Yep."

Kyle asked me to tell him another diaper story. A whole bunch went through my mind. I couldn't remember if I'd told him about the time an old man had caught me diapered in my father's boat. Or the time that I'd been nearly seen laying on the dock in just a diaper. Or the time that my grandmother had walked downstairs and seen me, in my diaper, through the screen door. Or maybe I'd tell him about the first time I wore a diaper in front of a friend. Hmm.

Instead I told him a story about a more recent experience.

I told him about this time I was parked at a gas station in a snow storm, and had seen this amazing kid walk by. And he'd gotten into a truck, and I thought surely he was going to steal it, but no - he actually drove this thing. I told him how I'd raced to get my CB radio out, just wanting to hear his voice, and how excited I was when he noticed me talking to him and inviting me to come over to this truck. I told him how, when he asked if I wanted to stay the night, I could barely contain my glee. And how, sleeping in that dude's truck that first time felt more amazing than I could even describe. How happy I'd gotten when the kid was curious about wearing diapers, and even happier when he asked to actually try one.

"I like this story," he interrupted me. "Keep going."

I explained how the dude had told me he didn't have a cell phone, but I wasn't sure if he really didn't or if he just didn't want to give me the number. Kyle's face soured and he looked like he wanted to interrupted, but just nodded. I continued, explaining how I'd been worried I'd never see the kid again, but had been surprised when we'd seen each other a bunch more times. I told him about how I'd once been surprised to hear a familiar voice over the CB radio when I was least expecting it, and how it had turned into what might have been the most amazing sexual experience I'd ever had. Kyle was nodding again. I told about how I'd been surprised at a surprise visit - a visit made way more meaningful once I found out that the kid had wanted to see me so much he'd put his truck, and possibly his career, at risk to back down the road and park in front of my building. Kyle nodded and sat up.

"It ends with me basically making what I hope will be a friend for life," I concluded.

"I'm going to give you a hug, bro," Kyle said after a few moments. "And yes... friends for life is definitely what we are going to be."

Kyle and I hugged for what must have been five minutes. It felt amazing. At some point he was kind of rubbing my back and I heard a car pull into the driveway overhead.

"Neighbors must be back," I said.

"Fuck the neighbors," Kyle said. We both laughed, and then he continued, "but I do have to hit the road again. Back to the schedule."

Kyle stood and pulled his bathing suit up over his diaper. We both walked up the steps, me enjoying Kyle's ass one more time - even in a diaper and swimming trunks it was amazing. As we stepped around his truck I could see Andrea looking out her window. She was shaking her head and pointing to the truck, but she stopped when she caught a glimpse of Kyle.

"OH MY GOD" she mouthed through the window. I just smiled. As we rounded the building I saw her blinds open a peek, and I knew she was getting a good glimpse. Kyle and I walked back into the apartment and he gathered his things.

"I'm going to pee," he told me. We walked to the bathroom, and I sat down at the kitchen table as he walked in. He left the door open, and I saw him pull his penis through the legging of his diaper and piss. Hot. He removed his bathing suit, hanging it on the shower curtain rod, and pulled a pair of jeans up over his diaper.

"Walk me to my truck?" he asked me. Of course I would. We walked to the truck and stepped into the road in front of it. Kyle turned to me and spontaneously hugged me. It seemed to go on for five minutes. At one point a car drove slowly by, staring at this 18-wheeler parked in the road, and Kyle and I continued to hug. I glanced over and saw Andrea sitting on her bed just enjoying the view. I had to laugh; I bet she wouldn't be complaining about a tractor trailer obscuring it; she'd probably forgotten there was even a lake there, what with Kyle to distract her.

"So Chris," Kyle finally spoke. "This has honestly been one of the best days of my life."

I was touched. I'd only gotten to spend an hour or two with Kyle on the beach, but it had definitely been one of mine as well. I told him that.

"You thought I drove my Corvette, huh?" he was laughing now. "Well bro, how about this summer I actually do drive my 'vette up here, and we spend a few days hanging out. I'll even go swimming with you just in diapers. Would that be okay?"

Okay? That would be a fucking dream...

"Definitely," I told him.

Kyle stopped hugging me and stepped up into the truck. He closed the door and rolled the window down, and then leaned out.

"Friends for life for sure, Chris."

I nodded. I was getting that sad feeling again, realizing it would be a while before we'd see each other again.

Little did I know it would be the last time we'd see each other.

"OH!" Kyle said. "I almost told you before, but I didn't want to interrupt your story. I'm getting a cell phone! My mom said she feels like she's getting older and there might be an emergency or something, so she got us each one on a family plan. I don't have it yet, but when I next go home I'll get it and call you with it. Then we can plan this stuff out!"

I was excited.

"And, Chris... I wouldn't lie about having a cell phone, bro. I really don't have one."

I nodded. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt bad about sharing that part of my 'story' - but also very good about knowing that I hadn't been deceived.

"I'll call you, bro," Kyle said. He started his truck and it roared to life. I heard him release the air brake, and I backed up across the road and into the driveway. He looked at me and smiled, this beautiful, melt-your-heart smile that literally gave me shivers. "Friends for life. I like that, man. Friends... for life."

"Thanks for everything, bro," I said. He pulled away and drove slowly down the road. I turned and watched him drive away, and as I did I could see that he was watching me in the side mirror of his truck. We both kind of watched each other until he'd rounded the bend and was out of view. I sighed, and walked back up to the apartment.

"Oh my fucking God, who was that?" Andrea stopped me. She'd been watching us the whole time and couldn't wait to ask me.

"That's my friend Kyle," I told her.

"He just drove that big rig down here and spent the night with you?"

"Yep."

Andrea shook her head and told me how lucky I was.

She didn't need to tell me, though. I already knew.

I walked back into the apartment and saw how light it had become. Kyle's truck had really provided some shade for the sun. I thought about how much I enjoyed this apartment's view - I'd moved here because it had an amazing view of the lake, despite all of its other problems. Now I realized I'd probably happily trade that view in for a view of a US Express truck, if it meant that I could have Kyle here all the time.

I began to feel sad. I realized how lucky I was, but how unlucky, too - all at the same time. Because I'd found a friend - a friend for life - willing to wear diapers with me. But, once he was on the road again, until he was returned, I'd be lucky to find anything similar. I probably wouldn't. Cursed this diaper fetish, I said, probably aloud.

It was possible to feel like both the luckiest guy in the world, and the unluckiest, all at the same time.

I woke up with a start and sat bolt upright in bed.

It was 3 a.m.

It was maybe two weeks after Kyle's visit. 

I'd moved to a house the next city over. There'd been a problem with bats - they were flying straight into the apartment through a hole in the ceiling, and the bat expert who'd come out quietly informed me that my landlord wasn't willing to pay to fix the problem - he'd asked for a board to be nailed over the hold in the house. In essence, I was about to get a whole bunch more bats inside.

I'd moved into a house. I'd notified the landlord after I moved; he was angry that I'd left without a month's notice and demanded that I pay the next two month's rent. I refused. He began harassing me. I called the health department, who came out and quickly condemned the building. Now I was off the hook for any additional rent, but the harassing calls - mostly hangup calls - continued. The night before I'd called my phone carrier and changed my number.

Oh. My. God.

I'd moved. And then changed my number. Kyle now had a business card with zero current information on me. How would he get ahold of me?

I called my carrier. I asked them if I could change my number back.

"Once you've changed it, the old number cannot be retained," the customer service representative told me, apparently reading from a screen.

I asked for a supervisor.

"Once you've changed it, the old number cannot be retained," the supervisor told me.

I could see I would get nowhere.

The next day I found the corporate number for Kyle's trucking company. I called, and spoke with a receptionist who spent the entire time chewing gum (or something) in my ear.

"I'm looking for a driver named Kyle," I told her.

"Kyle who?" she asked.

I realized I had no idea. I'd never asked Kyle for his last name. I hadn't needed it, really. I told her that I wasn't sure.

"Sir, we have numerous employees by the name of Kyle. You'd need to know a last name."

"He's a driver," I told her. "He was just in my area a few weeks ago... maybe that will help?"

"I'm sorry, sir. We don't get messages to the drivers. Does he have a cell phone?"

I wasn't sure.

"Maybe you can just tell me his name?" I suggested. "He was just in upstate NY two weeks ago. I can be more specific."

"Sir, I'm not allowed to provide names of the drivers."

"It's important that I get ahold of him."

"Sir, I'm not allowed to provide names. We don't get messages to the drivers. Try him on his cell phone."

Damn.

I can't begin to tell you how depressed I felt. What was worse, I knew that, if Kyle drove his truck backwards on Lake Street for 30-60 minutes again, he'd do so for no reason. I thought about leaving my forwarding information taped to my now vacant door, but realized that would pretty much make paying to have my number changed meaningless. Besides, the landlord was pissed - he'd just rip it down. Damn.

I spent a lot of my free time over the next few months sitting at the truck stop, CB-radio in hand.

Nothing.

I even went up to a few drivers in US Express trucks and asked if they knew Kyle. None did. One told me that he'd pass along my contact information if he ever met a Kyle, so I wrote everything down. A few weeks later he called me. He explained that, every time he passed another US Express truck he called on the CB for Kyle. My mind took me back to the time that Kyle had been calling for me: 'Diaper Kyle to Diaper Chris' in the hopes that he'd find me. The trucker told me that he had found a Kyle, but when he went to pass the information to him the man told him he didn't know a Chris.

Damn.

A few months later I drove past the old apartment building. Summer was hear, and I was feeling even more depressed that I'd nearly had a vacation with Diaper Kyle and was probably going to miss out. I saw someone sitting in front of the building and slammed on the brakes. It was someone new. I backed up, instantly thinking of the time Kyle backed a whole 18-wheeler up, and parked at the base of the driveway. I got out of my car and walked up to the man sitting on the porch. He eyes me suspiciously.

"If you're selling something, we ain't buying," he told me pre-emptively. I shook my head. I could see that he was a redneck - there was even a confederate flag flapping behind the house. He was chewing on a piece of grass, and looked like he'd just got done doing some sort of sweat-inducing work.

"Look, sir," I began. "I used to live here. And I have this friend, and he only knows how to get ahold of me by coming here. I was wondering if..."

"What's he drive," the man interrupted, and I was immediately hopeful.

"A big truck," I told him.

"Like a Ford F-250?" he man asked.

"No," I told him, my heart beginning to fall. "Like a Freightliner. An 18-wheeler."

"Son," the man said, sort of condescendingly. "You couldn't get an 18-wheeler down this road. There's a bridge at the other end."

I knew that. I didn't want to explain the part about the backing up.

"Well, I don't know what he'll be driving," I told him. "I was just hoping he'd been here... left me a note... something like that."

"Are you the feller who reported this house to the health department and got it condemned?" he asked me.

Shit. I figured I might as well just walk away now. Instead I nodded.

"Well, then, I owe you a debt of gratitude," he told me. "I got this building for about one-third of what it's worth because of you. The landlord couldn't get rid of it, so he just wanted to get rid of it. Once we get that cellar patched up and the house straightened it's going to be our duck hunting cabin."

I wanted to tell him about the diaper magic that had happened inside. I imagined nothing like that would ever occur there again. How sad...

"I'll tell you what," he told me. "Write your information down on a piece of paper. If your friend ever stops by, I'll be sure to give it to him."

I did.

It's been nearly ten years, and I've never heard from Kyle.

Friends for life. 

Since meeting Kyle I've moved to another state.

On my 'diaper road trip' in 2006 you better believe I watched for US Express trucks. I approached every once I saw at a truck stop. I never saw Kyle.

At some point I realized... it's probably not going to happen.

What kills me is wondering whether Kyle tried to get ahold of me and couldn't, or just somehow outgrew his desire to be diapered and didn't try.

Friends for life. 

Kyle seemed so convincing when he said that.

I believed him. In fact, I still do.

So I have to believe that this kid tried to reach me and, because of my own fuckup, couldn't.

My last view of Kyle - and probably the last one that I'll ever have - was of him staring at me in the mirror as he drove off.

"Thanks for everything, bro."

I'm glad those were the last words I said to him, because I couldn't pick something more appropriate to say.

Thanks for everything, bro. 

FINAL THOUGHT: If you're lucky enough to find a friend in our crazy community, be sure to get a couple of different ways to contact them. Cell phones get shut off, cell numbers change, email accounts close and new ones open. If we'd had Facebook back when Kyle and I became friends I have no doubt somehow we'd be in touch today. I still hope that one day he finds me and sends me a message. But it'll probably never happen. Don't let that shit happen to you, because it sucks.  

NOTE: I normally change the names of the characters in my stories. In this case, I haven't. I have hoped for ten years that Kyle might join a diaper site and look for me. Or, even though my blog isn't searchable through Google, might stumble across it. So far, in almost a decade on diaper sites and more than five years of blogging, that hasn't happened. 

It's doubtful that I'll ever see Kyle again. But if anyone out there does know a trucker named Kyle who's into diapers, please send him the link to this blog entry. 

And Kyle... if you're reading this: thanks for everything, bro. Friends for life? 

abysitter@gmail.com

Text: 407-459-4675

STORY TIME! The CB Radio & The Trucker - Part I

[CWIS'S NOTE] I STARTED TO WRITE A STORY ABOUT AN ENCOUNTER I HAD A FEW YEARS BEFORE I LEFT NY, BUT I GOT CAUGHT UP WRITING ABOUT GROWING UP. SOME OF YOU HAVE ALREADY READ THIS IN OLDER BLOG ENTRIES CIRCA 2009-2010; OTHERS OF YOU ONLY LIKE TO READ ENTRIES IF THEY DIRECTLY RELATE TO XXX-RATED DIAPER STORIES. SO IF YOU WANT THE ABRIDGED VERSION OF THIS STORY, SKIP DOWN TO THE RED TEXT AND READ FROM THERE. FOR EVERYONE ELSE... 

 

Growing up, I often felt lost.

I was adopted, and while I have a great relationship with my family now - I'd say we're incredibly close despite a distance of thousands of miles - as a teenager it was not that way.

Not at all.

Diapers, for me, were probably a coping mechanism before I was old enough to know what a coping mechanism was. 

I'd use evenings that my parents and brother were at various activities to sneak some Cwis time; I'd sometimes fake being sick and get a whole day. When I had a few hours, or an entire day, away from my family, that's probably when I felt closest to them. Because I'd diaper up - cloth diapers for a while, and then some homemade disposables I crafted from garbage bags, paper towels, toilet paper, and tape - and wind down. I'd be Cwis, and these free hours would be spent crawling around the house, laying outdoors in the sunshine, or even laying in the crib that had been set up for my cousins. 

My family wasn't home - but in my imagination they were feeding me my bottle, coloring with me, rubbing my tummy as I lay in my crib... you get the idea.

When I was 13, 14, and 15 I got into cycling. It wasn't for fitness, although it left me incredibly fit at the time; it wasn't for competition, although I joined a competitive friend for Tuesday time trials every once in a while. It was so I could get the fuck out of my house. 

 

I'd ride six miles each way into the area by my high school to hang out with friends. I'd ride even further to get to lifeguard classes. And, when I got my first job, I'd often ride 16 miles, each way, to get to work.

I could have gotten a ride. But I wanted so badly to be independent, to be separate from my family then. So I'd mount the bike - a hand-me-down, at first, and later a $500 Cannondale racing bike I spent every penny I earned on - and I'd just ride.

Ride to get places. Ride to get space between me and my family. Ride to find freedom.

When I turned 16 I was finally old enough to drive. My grandfather had left me his car - an old, rusty, bright yellow Ford Escort station wagon he called The Buttercup. He'd told me it would be mine one day, and it seemed like that day would never come. Finally, it had. After some arguments with my parents, who apparently hadn't shared my grandfather's vision of me driving around, completely free, at sixteen, they agreed to put it back on the road for me. 

FREEDOM!

My senior year of high school was spent everywhere but home. I worked in the high school in the morning, lifeguarding faculty swim. After school I had swim practice, and I'd round the night out with my part-time job teaching swimming lessons or supervising open swim at the pool. I'd get home around 10, and start over the next morning at 4:45. Weekends not spent at swim meets were spent running swimming lessons and weekend family swim.

In my desperation to break free of my family and find my own identity I sort of pushed myself into adulthood quicker than most. The majority of my friends were still spending their free hours playing basketball or video games all the way through senior year; I was working. Few had cars, or even wanted them; I considered mine the key to my survival. 

I remember my parents worrying that I was trying to grow up and move out way too fast - "You'll spend the rest of your life working," they'd remind me. They didn't understand. But, over time, they came to accept my leaving at the crack of dawn, and coming home after the rest of my family was in bed. I think it might have even made them grow closer as a family.

Still, as I grew up, my need for regression grew stronger, as it does for many of us. 

I was busy, and loving my life, but I would still find that need to experience my 'little side' bottling up, just like we all do. Sometimes I'd sneak a diaper into the house from my hiding spot in the back of the station wagon; I'd tape one on, rub one out, and sleep in it, completely at peace. Still, that alarm clock would ring at 4:45 and I'd be back to Chris. If you're AB like me, you know that six hours of baby time is not enough...

That's when my trips to the cottage began.

The first time I drove to the cottage by myself it was on a whim. I'd expected to have the house to myself and my family's plans had changed. I'd gotten diapers, powder, and wipes - plus the assorted accessories - all ready in my car, planning to bring them into the house the moment my family left. I'd had a particularly stressful week, and I needed some toddlerization! And then - bam - change of plans.

So I said fuck it. I had that night, and the next day, to do nothing. I had diapers and everything else I needed, all ready to go, in my wagon. So I let my parents know I'd be spending the night at a friends, got in the car, and drove to the cottage. 

An hour later, I was there; fifteen minutes after that I was stripped naked, laying on the couch underneath the screen window letting lake breezes sweep over me. I spent the rest of the day diapered, doing a combination of baby stuff and lake stuff. You can read the rest of the cottage series for more.

Moving on...

Cottage trips for toddlerization purposes became commonplace for me, and I got so I was spending weekends there as often as possible. I found myself diapering up at the cottage. Soon I'd gotten the balls to wear diapers out in the boat - under swimming trunks, of course. Eventually I was stripping down to just a diaper for a few minutes at a time, and loving every second of it. (There's a funny story here somewhere of a time I got caught in just a diaper in my sinking rowboat... if anyone can find it I'll give you a shoutout!) I eventually began wearing diapers into town. Crinkle? IDGAF! I was in a town an hour from where I grew up, and I knew almost nobody here... diapered day and night was now a possibility.

As fall came and the coldness began to settle in I decided I didn't want to give up my Cwis time... I'd grown to love diapers so much, and they were basically a part of me. I snuck some electric blankets to the cottage - if you've read the series you know that it was an unheated structure, save for a wood-burning stove - and I filled the dresser with the warmest pajamas and hoodies I could find.

And, since this was before cell phones were affordable - yea, I'm getting old lol - I put went to Radio Shack, bought a CB radio, and put it in my car. 

THE ACTUAL STORY STARTS HERE... 

KINDA... LOL...

Side note: I've always been obcessed with gadgets. When pagers came out I had one of the first ones - remember beeper codes ("143! 187!") and all? (If you don't... damn, I'm getting old.) 

When alphanumeric pagers came out I had one of the first ones of those, too, complete with an operator answering my calls and typing out the message. (I loved that). 

Cell phones became affordable and I got one. The flip phone came out, and I couldn't wait to get it. I had a Palm Pilot before PDA phones were a thing, and was looking into subscribing to a service that allows your Palm Pilot to check email - for $50/month! Then Palm created their first phone, and I couldn't wait. 

Today, many phones later, I'm typing this blog entry on an iPhone 5S.

But before all that, CB radios were the way people communicated on the road. 

Today that seems corny - even truckers use laptops and cell phones in their cabs - but when I was in high school and college riding up and down the New York State Thruway hours at a time in all kinds of weather (blizzards and snowstorms? Yessir...) was made easier with a CB radio in my hand. 

Plus, they were fun... rolling up and down the road talking to people I'd never meet... kind of like the internet today, I guess.

I still remember my first winter of driving to the cottage. Sometimes it would be so cold, and I'd pad up, get in the car, turn the heat on, and just drive around. I'd drive over by the Thruway, get a cup of hot cocoa at the gas station - I was too young for coffee then - and I'd sit by the highway, listening to passing truckers on the CB, sometimes for hours, as I lay back in my car, completely relaxed. Eventually my diaper would be flooded, I'd start to notice the freezing sensation on my ass, and I'd drive back to the cottage, happy as fuck, ready to change and curl up under the electric blanket.

At that time I still hadn't diapered very many people. A few friends (non-ABDL) had worn with me, but my efforts to meet up with actual ABDLs were met with flaking and fronting. (I've blogged about that here before).

I was spending plenty of time as Cwis, but no matter how close I felt to the people who were part of my regression fantasies, I was almost always alone in reality. In my car, though, sipping hot chocowate from a sippy cup, and flooding my diaper, the voices on the radio were connecting me with people. It wasn't as cool as being able to wear diapers in front of people, but it felt pretty close at the time.

Fast forward a few years... 

As I mentioned, by the time I finished college I had a cell phone.

The CB radio was still in the car, but its technology was pretty much outdated by then, so its antenna looked like one of those cell phone antennas, and it hardly ever came out of the glove compartment.

One day I was at the gas station by the Thruway onramp closest to the cottage. I was coming from home, headed to the cottage for the weekend. A snowstorm was coming, and I had a limited amount of time to get in and get the car off the road before the snow began to fall. I'd pulled over to fill up and pick up some groceries in case I got snowed in for a day or two...

The gas station doubled as a truck stop, and it was always filled with tractor trailers, usually driven by the types of people you'd expect to see rolling through with big rigs: wizened old rednecks and the occasional rugged woman lol. I'd gotten to know this gas station well as a kid - it was always my first stop off the Thruway on my way to the cottage, and my gas fill-up stop on my way home. It was also the spot that I regularly threw out all of my wet diapers, hehe. Over the years I'd disposed of dozens there.

I was sitting in the parking lot checking the Thruway road report on their toll-free hotline... parts of the Thruway were already closed due to ice and snow, and it was headed towards us. 

Then, out of nowhere, this kid walked out of the gas station. 

He caught my eye immediately. He was hot as FUCK. College age, great shape, kind of tan (in winter), and a little thuggish. 

He walked with kind of a swagger. He was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt, even as the air had turned freezing. He was buff, and - oh, yea - he had a perfect ass. 

OMFG. If you know me, you know I love a hot ass. I tried not to stare...

I didn't know many people from the area this gas station was in, but I'd become accustomed to seeing the same faces over and over in my travels around town, and I'd definitely never seen this face. Or ass. I watched this dude walk across the parking lot, and I figured we were just a quarter mile from the Thruway... I figured he was just passing through.

He passed the car I thought he was about to get in and glanced at me. I pretended to look at something that didn't exist in my car, but out of the corner of my eye I watched him walk past all the cars in the parking lot. That's when I realized that he was headed for a row of tractor trailers.  

Must be riding along with someone, I thought. 

But he wasn't. He hopped up into the driver's seat of a USExpress truck.

Holy shit... this kid is about to steal an 18-wheeler!

I watched him for a few minutes. He sat in the driver's seat, leaned back with his eyes closed. I figured whoever was driving his truck would come out to it soon. Nobody came. I wondered if they might be sleeping in the cab... this kid couldn't be a truck driver, he was too young... and too... hot. No fucking way...

I noticed that he'd sat up; he was looking around now, and had his CB mic in his hand.

I couldn't have gotten to my CB radio fast enough! It hadn't been used in a while, and the battery wasn't even charged - thank God I had a charging adapter for it in the car. I fished it out of the glove compartment so fast I practically threw the contents of the glove compartment onto the floor. Whatever this kid was saying might solve the mystery of what he was doing in the cab of this truck! And I had a CB radio and could hear it. I was 'lurking' in modern-day language... lol...

I turned the radio on and instantly heard a voice I knew must be his. He sounded light years younger than everyone else on the radio. 

He had a little bit of a New York or New Jersey accent. He was asking for a weather forecast, and wasn't liking what he was hearing - other drivers had decided to stay at the truck stop to wait out a storm that was coming. I heard him swear, something you don't usually hear on a CB. The kid was trying to decide whether to make a break for it, or to batten down for the night. I was just chillin'... lurking... and forgot that I, myself, was supposed to be making a break for it as well.

He began asking for directions to a few different cities along his route. Most of the truckers were from out of town, and their directions, while close, were not exactly accurate. For example, they told him he could make Ithaca in 30 minutes - no fucking way, even if it wasn't snowing. They told him that he should head down Route 5 - they clearly didn't realize how horrible the plowing would be if it began to snow before he cleared it. 

Eventually I picked up the radio and broke in, giving him some pretty solid directions.

HIM: So if I try to make it to Syracuse, I can make PA by taking 81...

ME: Yes, but that road isn't plowed for whole stretches as you get close to the state line... 

HIM: Damn. So if I ride along the lake, how is that road looking... 

ME: Not passable for a truck of your side on the east side. On the west side you can do it, but it's way out of your way... 

The kid definitely seemed to be leaning towards spending the night at the truck stop, but he was still asking for directions when suddenly he stopped talking. I looked up and realized he was looking at me.

HIM: You know, you can just come over to the truck and show me on the map... 

And so I did.

I'd never been in a tractor trailer before. The motherfucker was huge. I remember being shocked at how large the engine was - it was like looking over a ten-foot piece of steel stretched out in front of the driver. 

 

I tried to avoid looking in the back, but couldn't help myself. I'd expected to find a bunk bed like I'd seen on TV once, but there was a full bed back there, plus a sink, microwave, coffee maker, and TV! It was like a little hotel on wheels...

He'd pulled out a map (no GPS yet, lol) and we went through various routes. 

 

I'm not sure how much time had gone by, but by the time the kid was sure none of the routes we'd seen would be possible it was getting dark and had begun to snow outside. The CB radio continuously crackled, with truckers warning others not to try to take the Thruway - accidents and ice had resulted in the closing of sections of it closer and closer to us. 

 

I probably should have been thinking of getting my own ass back to the cottage, but before I did I had to ask him how he came to find himself behind the wheel of an 18-wheeler. So I did. And his story, which stretched on for nearly 45 minutes, was quite a story.

His name was Kyle, and he'd just turned 24. He'd grown up in New Jersey. He'd planned to go to college to be a pilot but his father had died when he was in high school and his family had been left practically broke.

His mother had given him two choices when he graduated high school: move in with friends or pay rent - she couldn't afford to keep the house. Kyle decided that college wasn't an option, so he called the number on an ad for trucking school and got his license by the end of that year. He spent the next two years driving daily deliveries in an oversized box truck and, when he turned 21, began applying at interstate trucking companies. USExpress had hired him at some point.

Three years later Kyle had paid off his mother's debt on her house and bought a Corvette. The car sat in the garage at his mother's house, and he drove it once a month - the only time he was home. He spent 27 days on the road, and between driving as many miles as legally possible and getting bonuses for making trips on time, he said he'd earned somewhere around $100K in a single year the year before.

"I'm really not used to being stopped," he told me. "I pretty much keep it moving, and only stop to keep the log legal." He winked at me, and I guessed that meant he was driving more miles than was legal or safe. I wasn't sure, since I didn't know anything about trucking. "It kills me that I'm stuck here for the night. Of course, having someone to sit and chill with is pretty awesome."

I had to be honest... sitting there talking to him was pretty awesome, too. As he spoke I couldn't help but be turned on... this dude was young, in charge of his life, and he drove a HUGE TRUCK! I don't know why, but seeing him behind the wheel of this beast was a real turn-on. I tried to act as straight as possible so he wouldn't notice my hardon...

At some point it occurred to me that the snow was really starting to come down. I'd hoped to beat it, because the route I was taking would almost certainly be treacherous. Now I didn't know if I could. DAMN.

"I should go," I told him. "I still have to drive in this..."

As I spoke the radio crackled to life. A trucker was reporting in: the road I'd be taking was unpassable - a tractor trailer had jackknifed and gone partly off the road, blocking most of it in the process. He looked at me, and we both looked outside. My car was no longer visible under inches of snow. 

 

"I feel bad," he told me. "I shouldn't have kept you here... talking about myself for an hour... fuck!" 

 

I could hear real concern in his voice, and it was cute as hell. I told him not to worry, and explained that there was another way home I could take, it would just take longer.

"Where?" he asked. I'd forgotten we'd spent some time looking at the map, but he pushed it toward me. I pointed out the route and he looked upset. "That's way far, Chris," he told me. "I wouldn't be comfortable with that. Not in this weather, bro. I think you should wait for the road to clear up."

I explained that we had no way of knowing how long it would take for the truck to be towed out of the ditch.

"Nah, I mean until it stops snowing," he told me. "Or at least until they get the roads under control."

I was starting to get worried. What was I going to do? This was dumb... I should have just driven away an hour ago...

"I can't, Kyle," I told him. "I'd be stuck here for a few hours at least, and my car is freezing."

"I didn't mean your car, man," he told me. "Your car isn't even there anymore." We both laughed as he pointed around the parking lot, pretending not to be able to find it. "I mean... just chill right here."

"You mean... in your truck?" I asked him, surprised.

"Hell yea," he told me. "Just stay here. I can't leave until morning anyway..."

Kyle was inviting me to spend the night?

 

"Does this seat go back?" I asked him. It was the only thing I could think of to say. I felt like an idiot. He shook his head and smiled, but told me I could even have the bed... he'd sleep in his seat. 

 

"It'll be worth it to have some real, actual company for a little while," he told me. 

 

I felt bad, but I knew that it was unlikely I'd be making it home. So I agreed...

I told Kyle I had to pee. I walked over to my car and grabbed my bag and cell phone, then walked into the truck stop and took a piss. 

 

Then, for no explicable reason, I stepped into the shower area, grabbed a diaper out of my bag - I always carried a few with me back then - and put it on. I hoped that he wouldn't be able to hear it crinkle, but if I was going to be spending the night, I wanted to be comfortable. 

 

I contemplated buying a cup of hot chocolate - I'd left mine in the car, and it was probably freezing by now - but knew I'd just have to piss again, and the snow in the parking lot was getting pretty fucking deep, besides. I hoped that the truck would be warm. 

 

I walked back outside toward the truck and got scared a little when I couldn't see it - I wondered if Kyle had decided to make a break for it. Turns out it was just snowing harder now, and as I trudged through the parking lot I saw the line of trucks, including the bright red US Express truck. Kyle was sitting in the driver's seat, and he face lit up with a smile and he waved to me as I approached.

"I thought you might have gotten cold feet and left," he told me. I thought it was cute that he was worried about the same thing I was.

"The cold feet part is for sure," I told him, "but no... there's no driving in this."

"Good," he told me. "I'm looking forward to this. It's been a long time since I had someone to talk to..." 

I took my seat on the passenger side of the truck. Kyle was wearing a sweatshirt now, and I was a little disappointed, since I'd been enjoying peeping his physique while we talked. Then I noticed that he'd changed into a pair of long underwear - tight, form-fitting long underwear - and I remembered that I have something of a long underwear fetish, too. SCORE!

He flipped a couple of switches, and the lights inside the cab dimmed, and the lights in the sleeper came on. It almost felt like we were in a hotel. I was actually pretty sleepy, and wondered if he'd really let me sleep on the bed... it looked comfortable. Truthfully, I was just happy to be warm again. 

"I pretty much told you my whole life story," Kyle told me, and he put his seat back a notch and kind of stretched out. "I didn't really ask you anything about yourself, cept where you're headed. So tell me... what's your deal?" 

I kind of told the kid a shortened version of my life story - growing up, high school, college. I tried to share with him some of the things that I'd been through, and how I'd dealt with them. 

"That's kind of inspiring," he told me. He sounded serious. I couldn't tell. His story seemed way more inspiring than mine... maybe he was just trying to be nice. 

And he'd come away with something else. 

"You seem pretty lucky. You've got a pretty stable family who love you. And your grandpa left you that car, and the cottage..." 

Lucky indeed. Even if I didn't see it very clearly at the time...

"You seem lucky, too," I told him. "And your mom seems lucky to have you. You paid off her house, and she lets you keep your car there... kind of a win/win, right?" (I was really just trying to deflect the conversation from me, something I've never been that comfortable talking about, even if I can write a one-million-word blog entry about it lol). 

"Well, I felt lucky," he told me. "I was meant to be flying jets, not driving trucks. My dad wanted me to be a pilot, he was going to help me..." and his voice trailed off. 

"Sucks about that," I said. I wasn't really sure what to say. 

"My mom had to use my college money to pay off debts after he died." 

"He was in debt?" I asked. I was, again, not sure what to say. It seemed like we were getting way more personal than two people who'd met in the last hour. I was feeling a little uncomfortable...

"He was in an accident. He hurt someone," Kyle explained. "Her family sued." 

"That sucks," I told him. We both just sat there for a little bit. 

"I guess he was dating her," Kyle continued after a minute or two. "Me and my Mom had no idea. No idea at all. Then we got a call that he'd flipped his car." 

Silence... 

"So, yea... her family sued, and we almost had to sell our house. My mom sold her car and took the bus for a year or two. It really sucked to see..." 

"Wow, man. That really sucks, bro," I told him. "I'm impressed how you kind of took a really shitty situation and turned it into a good one." 

Kyle started to smile, and he re-told the story of how he'd decided to be a truck driver. 

"We needed to get ahead, man. I knew driving truck paid okay, but I didn't realize how much you can make if you just stay out on the road and keep driving. It just keeps adding up. And when you don't have a place to live, because you don't need one, you really don't have any bills... it's a car payment, help with my mom's bills, and the rest goes into the bank..." 

We talked some more, and I asked him if he thought he'd ever become a pilot. He had enough money in the bank to go to flight school, from what he'd told me... 

"It's still my dream, bro," he told me. "I sometimes stop my truck near airports and watch planes come in. I know it should have been me at the controls. But for now I'm grounded..."

We talked about goals. I told him mine, and then he told me his. He wanted to become a pilot, of course. But if that didn't work out, he wanted to keep saving his salary until he had $1 million in the bank. Someone had told him that you could comfortably retire if you had a million saved, and he was already more than one-tenth of the way there at 24. 

"By 45, I should be finished with this life, and ready to start the next one," he told me. 

I asked him if he wanted to start a family, and he looked at me with this look that made me feel like he'd never been asked the question before, much less thought about it on his own...

"I don't know," he kind of stammered. "I mean... I have a family. My mom is my family. You know?" 

"You don't want to get married? Have kids?" I asked. 

He shook his head and laughed. 

"I live in this truck, man. Look around. Does this look like a place to raise a family?" He was leaving out the obvious solution of having a wife and kids at home - maybe at his mom's place, lol - but I didn't want to push it. 

"What about you, Chris?" he asked me. "You got a girlfriend or... anything?"

I shook my head. I was still at that phase in my life where admitting that I was gay was not an option. Imagine if I shared how I'd recently almost had a meet-up with a guy from a diaper website but he'd stood me up. What a story that would be... 

So, instead, I just shook my head. 

"Yea," he told me, as if he understood exactly. "Families are overrated." 

We talked more, and as we did the CB radio crackled softly in the background and the snow continued to fall. I barely noticed the weather outside - the cab was the perfect warmth, and I was as relaxed as I'd felt in a long time. We'd probably talked for three or four hours when Kyle asked if I wanted a cup of coffee. 

"Nah, it's too cold out there," I told him. I instantly wondered if he'd trust me in the truck while he went and got one. He laughed, got up, and stepped into the sleeper cab. As he did his long underwear-clad ass brushed up against me, and I caught myself staring. He turned around, a coffee pot in his hand, and I think he caught me, too. Eek...

"Got coffee right here, bro," he told me. He held the pot under the sink - I wondered where the water was coming from - and in a minute or so coffee was brewing. 

"Wow," I remarked. "This truck has everything. It's really like a rolling hotel on wheels..." 

"Yea, I love it," he told me. "It has everything but a toilet and a shower. If it had those two things I'd never even have to get out at truck stops." He then explained to me how some of the trucks being build that year actually had a porta-john in the sleeper, underneath the bed. "It's for taking a piss," he told me helpfully. "Nobody would ever drop a deuce in their own truck... that's just nasty. But for pissing, that would be nice."

"That must suck, having to find a truck stop every time you have to piss," I acknowledged. He looked at me kind of funny and chuckled. 

"Trust me, a lot of guys don't do that. Truck stops can be hours apart, and sometimes you just can't pull in. People just pull over and go." 

"Really?" 

"Sure, bro," he continued. "You ever seen a trucker checking his tires?" He drew out the words 'checking his tires' and then winked at me. I realized I'd seen that a whole bunch of times. Wow. "And nearly every truck driver has a spare urinal or two for emergencies. Sometimes you can't check the tires. You ever seen a Big Gulp tossed out onto the side of the road?" He laughed as he said it. Wow. 

As he talked it occurred to me that diapers for truckers might be the perfect solution. I didn't mention it, of course. But I pictured this dude rolling around in Pampers, and it instantly got me hard. 

We sipped coffee and talked some more. I had just met this kid on some chance encounter a few hours before, but I felt like I was talking with an old friend. I was amazed at how much we seemed to have in common, even though we probably had almost nothing in common in actuality. A few times as we talked it occurred to me that, a day later, he'd be on his way down the highway, and I might never see him again... damn.

After a while I began to yawn, and then he did too. I stole a sideways glance at the bed in the back and Kyle chuckled. 

"I'm getting sleepy too," he told me. "You read for bed?" 

I nodded. Kyle got up and pulled the blankets down off the bed. I watched his ass the entire time... damn, it was perfect. He turned back towards me and I immediately looked away. He came back into the cab and bent forward over the dashboard, pulling curtains from each side to cover the windshield. As he bent over I couldn't help but steal one last look at his ass. I wanted to rub it through his long underwear... OMFG. All of a sudden I noticed our reflections in the window as the curtain closed over it - and the fact that he was looking at us, too. He started to laugh a little. 

"So I know that I said you could have the bed," he told me. "I don't mind sleeping up here. But if you're okay with sharing... I mean, if that doesn't make you uncomfortable..." 

"It's your truck, bro." 

I couldn't believe my luck. This all seemed surreal. A few hours ago I had expected to be hunkered down in the bunks at the cottage, diapered and covered up by my electric blanket, trying to weather a storm. Now I was chilling in this amazing dude's truck, it felt like our friendship went back years, and he was asking if I wanted to share a bed with him. Fuck yes. 

When I think back on it I realize that I was taking a gamble, one that I probably wouldn't take today. Back then, though, I was all about risks. This was exciting. So I stepped back into the sleeper cab, took off my shoes, and crawled into bed. 

"Bro, do you want to borrow some long johns?" Kyle asked me. "Or you can sleep in your underwear or something, it's all good. I don't want you to have to sleep in your clothes..." 

"Oh, I always sleep in my clothes," I lied. It suddenly occurred to me that I was wearing a disposable diaper - a fact that I'd forgotten. (I felt so comfortable in my diaper, and so comfortable with Kyle, that it totally slipped my mind). 

"Weird, but okay," he told me. "I always sleep in long johns. Except in summer, then I sleep in nothing." 

Hardness, go away!

He flipped some switches and most of the lights were out. The sleeper was now pitch black, and he closed a curtain between the cab and the sleeper, shutting out dashboard lights and making it even darker. I felt him lay down on the other side of the bed. A minute or so went by and my eyes adjusted; the cab was lit by the light from the clock on the microwave, and by light filtering in from a pair of skylights. I could see that there was a good two feet of space between us - the bed was compact, but was apparently bigger than it looked. Which was why I was surprised when Kyle's bottom somehow pressed into my back - not that I was complaining. 

Crinkle, crinkle. The two of us were laying side by side, our backs touching each other, and I was very cognizant that my diaper, which I'd not even remembered I was wearing just a little while ago, was now kind of obvious. 

That made me nervous. But it didn't stop me from falling asleep... 

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but I woke up a little while later to the sight of Kyle pulling jeans up over his long underwear. 

"That coffee got to me," he told me. "I gotta go pee. You don't gotta, do you?"

I shook my head. I didn't have to go.

"Yea, I didn't think so," he told me, and I could see that he was smiling. "You probably already went, huh?" I looked surprised, and he laughed. "Bro, I don't care, honest." 

"What do you mean?" I asked him, feeling a little queasy... 

"That diaper, man," he said. I could feel my face getting red. "Don't be embarrassed, Chris!" he told me with a sense of urgency. "I mean, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. I just bumped into you and... I noticed, and..." and his voice trailed off. 

"Bro, I don't know what you're thinking but..." 

"I'm thinking I want to ask you about diapers when I come back," Kyle interrupted. "Fuck, I almost wish I was wearing one right now... this sucks! Be right back..." 

And with that Kyle pushed the curtain aside, climbed over the seat, opened the door, and closed it. I sat bolt upright in bed, climbed up into the cab, and watched him trudge through what must be more than a foot of snow toward the truck stop. 

My shoes were on the floor, and my bag right next to them. I thought about grabbing them and getting the fuck out before he returned. The fantasy of being "caught" in diapers, by a hot guy, is just that - a fantasy. The reality is that it is uncomfortable as fuck. Had it not been for a foot of snow, ice, and the fact that this kid just seemed dope as fuck, I would certainly have been out. 

I sat in the passenger seat. A few minutes later he came back and climbed up into the cab. 

"You're not thinking of leaving are you?" he asked me. He looked worried and sounded sad. I shook my head, but I had been mulling it over... it was snowing less now and it looked like cars were able to drive on the road that passed us. 

"Nah, man..." I replied. "I don't think - "

"Good!" Kyle interrupted me, sounding relieved. "I'm glad, because I want to ask you a question. Is that okay?" 

"A question?" 

"A question. About that thing." He nodded towards my midsection. "Is that okay?" 

I nodded. I honestly couldn't believe this was happening... 

"I was wondering, since I invited you to spend the night, and made you coffee, and stuff... and since it's my truck..." 

TO BE CONTINUED... 

SPECIAL THANKS TO MOJO FOR THE PHOTO