There I was, on my hands and knees, diapered rear end pointed at the mirror (an obviously wet diaper I might add) waiting for Michelle to come in. I had just made the decision that I liked diapers (thank you, Mr. Narrator) and I was waiting to tell her. It was mere moments after I had made that decision when she walked in.
Michelle was obviously surprised to see me in that position, but she quickly recovered. "I see you're up, Johnny. I didn't expect you to be awake." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "I see the bed's dry, how 'bout you?" I hadn't moved since she entered. My mouth was slightly open and my eyebrows were almost as high as they could go. It was shocking to see her actually enter the room and be there when I was diapered - and wet, for that matter.
It took a few moments for me to realize that she had asked me a question and I was expected to respond. "Uh! uh... n... n..." I stammered. "No." I finally managed to say that I was wet. That was a step.
"That's okay, Johnny. I didn't really expect you to be dry. But at least the bed is okay." She paused and smiled at me. "What say we get you out of that wet diaper before you get a rash?" My mind was going crazy. I knew that I wanted to tell her that I liked this, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I guess I should have expected to be a little apprehensive. I guess I didn't want her to think I was weird or something. I just couldn't say what I wanted to say!
All I could manage was a small, "Okay," while I stood up. Michelle stood and patted the bed, motioning me to lie down. I did, and even though a very big part me inside was screaming "Tell her! Tell her!" I remained silent. I bet I blushed rather noticeably as I set my padded rear on the mattress. I can't be sure, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if Michelle was thinking to herself, "What was he doing?" and "Why did he take his T-shirt off?"
The plastic on my butt crinkled as I shifted on the bed. I stared up at Michelle as she prepared to undiaper me. I was sad, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything to stop it. As she undid the tapes, it seemed to me that time was moving at an agonizingly slow rate. The sound made me wince.
*rrrrip!* Pause. *rrrrip!* It was all I could do to keep from whimpering.
When she raised the front of my diaper, the rush of cold air on my privates made me gasp. Michelle, probably thinking I was scared or embarrassed, soothed me as she grabbed both my ankles in one hand and lifted them. Then, she removed my diaper, carefully guiding it along my tail. When she set my rear down on the soft comforter, I missed the padding I got from the diaper. I went totally limp.
Michelle took a warm washcloth and wiped off my crotch. I felt like I was going to die of embarrassment. Not only because Michelle was treating me like a baby, but I wanted her to do it! I liked it! I was still coming to grips with the decision that I had made.
I was laying completely naked on my bed, in a state of shock when Michelle went to my chest of drawers and began to rummage through them. She must have been picking out my clothes. In a few moments, but she held up a pair of underwear that was adorned with cartoon characters. I was embarrassed to own them. I couldn't believe that she picked those out. She asked, "Will these be okay?" I couldn't do anything but nod weakly. She set them on the bed beside me and went back to the drawers.
Next she came up with a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt with a picture of young Simba from Disney's Lion King. Not that bad, I guess. But it's not what I would have picked. I nodded again. It hadn't occurred to me at that point to start dressing myself or make any motion to suggest that I was going to do so.
I assume that when Michelle noticed I wasn't going to do anything, she decided to dress me herself. That was unexpected, I can tell you that. I was taken by surprise when she started running my legs through the holes in the underwear. She pulled it up around my crotch and ran my tail through the hole again. They were very tight when she got them on. I told you they were an old pair!
Next she did the same thing with the shorts. I remained limp throughout the whole ordeal. I suppose it may have been a subconscious part of me trying to be babied. I was still trying to tell her the decision I had made, but I hadn't built up the courage yet.
She had me sit up once I had my shorts on. She raised my hands above my head and slipped my T-shirt on. Then she stood me up and smiled at me. I couldn't manage to return the smile. She must have thought I was still upset about my parents - which I was, of course - but I was currently focused on this other problem.
She let her smile go and put her hands on my shoulders. I stared up at her. She said, "Johnny, I know this all very hard for you, but there's something we have to do today." She paused. "We have to go to your house and decide what things you want to come here." Even though the prospect of going back to my house terrified me, I tried not to make any reaction. "I'll put the rest of it in storage, but we can't just leave it all there..."
I nodded slightly. "Okay." Michelle patted me on the shoulder and started to leave. She had in her hand a plastic bag containing my wet diaper. "Come down soon, and we'll have breakfast. Then we'll have to leave." She shut the door behind her and I was alone. I sat down on the bed and thought about what had happened.
"What went wrong?" I thought. I was so determined to tell her before she came in, and then she came in and I froze up. I couldn't say anything at all, much less confess something of that nature. Was I afraid she was going to think I was crazy? Was I afraid she was not going to accept it? Whatever the reason, I simply couldn't talk about it. I had to get my courage up to tell her. I had to.
Anyway, after my inner monologue, I went downstairs. Michelle was waiting with breakfast: cold cereal. Granted, it was my favorite kind (Froot Loops) but I had my hopes set on some of her cooking. "I'm sorry, Johnny," she said, "I just didn't have any time to cook anything." I tried not to be noticeably upset, but I think she could tell I was disappointed.
"It's okay," I said. Even to myself, I didn't sound very convincing. I sat down and sullenly began to eat. Michelle didn't say anything, and neither did I. It was a very depressing meal.
After we had finished, Michelle said we were going to my house. I sighed and said, "Okay." We got into her car and she drove us to my house. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, I knew this was going to be tough. Just the sight of the house brought back memories that tugged at my heartstrings. I wiped my eyes and followed Michelle up the walk. My parents had given her a key to the front door when they left for vacation. She unlocked it and walked in. She stood just inside the doorway and said, "Just look around for a while, and tell me what you want to move to our house." She said our house. I lived with her now. This wasn't my house anymore.
I looked around. This had been my house for twelve years. I'd lived here with my parents for my whole life. I saw the corner where I'd dump my book-bag after school. I saw the couch we'd all sit on together to watch movies. I saw the table where we'd eat dinner every night.
Memories of what had happened in this house came flooding back to me. I remembered my mom cooking dinner in the kitchen. I remembered my dad sitting in his chair reading the paper. I looked out a window and saw the tree house my dad and I had built together when I was nine. I remembered the time I got beat up at school and my mom covered me with Band-Aids and antiseptic. I remembered the big fuss my parents made on my first day of school.
Then I saw a picture laying on an end table of my parents and me. I couldn't have been more than 2 in that picture. I was naked except for a diaper and they were holding me together. I picked up that picture and stared at it. We were so happy. They were so happy. A few stray teardrops fell on the picture and then I started crying full force.
It was just so hard to imagine that they would never be happy again. My mom would never cook dinner again. My dad would never help with my homework again. They'd never sit with me on the couch again. They'd never scold me, never praise me, never do anything again. They were gone. They were dead. I clutched the picture to my chest and sobbed some more. Michelle came and put her arms around me. I guess she knew it wouldn't do any good to try to comfort me, so she stayed silent. Through my tears I managed to say, "The pictures. I want all the pictures. All the photo albums, all the pictures... I want to keep them."
Michelle nodded and said, "Okay. We'll take those." Since she didn't make any immediate action I realized she was probably going to have them picked up later. I guess we probably couldn't have gotten everything back in just her car anyway.
Still holding the picture, I wiped my eyes and started looking around again. There was a small clock on the mantle I had gotten for my mom last Mother's Day. I remember how much she had loved it. She was always cleaning and dusting it to make sure it was shiny. She liked that clock so much. "I want to keep that clock, Michelle. The one on the mantle."
I kept on looking. On one of the bookshelves, I saw a pair of my baby booties that my parents had bronzed. I always made fun of them for doing it, it seemed to me like it was a silly thing to do. But now I realized they only did it because they loved me and wanted to remember what I was like as a baby. It symbolized to me the love they had for me. "I want the booties... on the bookshelf." I sniffled. "The bronzed ones..." I didn't need to specify since they were the only ones there. Michelle nodded silently.
I suddenly remembered something that I wanted. I walked to the kitchen and started rummaging through the closets. I had no idea where it was, but I knew they hadn't thrown it away. It had to be here somewhere. Then I found it: A small, old, ragged apron. I used to wear it when I was little and I "helped" Mom fix meals. I don't know why I remembered it. I hadn't worn it since I was about 6. But I had to have it now. "I need to keep this... I used to..." I paused. "I used to wear this when I was little..." I wiped my eyes again. "When I would... help her fix dinner..." Michelle held my shoulders.
"Okay. We'll take that." She stopped and took a breath. "I know this is hard for you, but we have to do this. Be strong."
She was right; this was hard. I nodded to her to show that I was doing okay. I figured that I'd found everything I needed downstairs, so I decided to go upstairs and look there. When I was about halfway up the stairs, I noticed something at the top of the stairs that I hadn't noticed in a long time. It was a painting my dad had done of me when I was four. I was smiling and wearing shortalls. Clutched in my arms was my little stuffed bunny, Mr. Bun. It was so realistic. Even though he'd gone into business, my dad had always wanted to be an artist. He didn't paint very often, after I was born. This
was the only one I remember him finishing.
I had walked by it everyday and I'd just gotten used to it being there. I hadn't paid any attention to it for who knows how long. But now I noticed it and I saw what I had meant to my parents and how much they had loved me... "Th... that painting. Dad painted it... I... I...." I couldn't even talk anymore.
Michelle said, "I understand, Johnny. We'll get that too."
Seeing the painting made me remember my stuffed bunny. My parents had given it to me when I was very young. I'd had it as long as I could remember. I carried it around everywhere I went until I was six. Then I stopped because other kids made fun of me. I had to find it. I went into my room and into the closet. I dug around in the back for a while until I found an old cardboard box. I set down the apron and the photograph and opened it. Inside was exactly what I was hoping for; A collection of stuff that I had used when I was younger. I found my old baby blanket, my old night-light, and a bib. This box was stuffed with memories. I kept digging through it until I found my stuffed bunny.
I picked it up and looked at its worn fur, its button eyes, its resewn seams, its forlorn look. Everything about it came rushing back to me. All the years I spent with this clutched in my arms, dragging it along with me everywhere. All the nights I'd drifted off to sleep with it resting on my pillow. All the times I'd cried into its fur.
Finally, I broke down and began to sob. I hugged the bunny tightly and rocked back and forth. The tears ran down my face. I couldn't do anything to stop it. Michelle knelt beside me and wrapped her arms around me. She kept whispering that it was going to be all right and rubbing my back. I kept crying hysterically for a few minutes until I calmed down.
While I sat there sniffling, Michelle kept me in her arms. She wiped the tears from my cheek and smiled at me. She looked so loving, so caring, I couldn't help but smile back. I don't know whether I had found everything I wanted from my house or I didn't want to look anymore, but I didn't want anything else.
"Michelle? That's all I need. We can go now." I expected Michelle to ask me if I was sure that was all I wanted, but she didn't. She said, "Okay." and then she helped me stand up. I guess she understood. We walked together back downstairs. She kept her arm around my shoulder the whole time, until we went outside and back into the car. I had in my hands the apron, the photograph of my family, and my stuffed rabbit.
We drove back to Michelle's house in silence. I kept staring at the picture of my parents. I missed them so much. When we got to Michelle's house, we walked inside and she said, "Now Johnny, I have a few more things to take care of. You can lie down and rest for a while if you want." I nodded. I needed to rest.
Michelle went upstairs and I went to the couch. I set my stuff on the coffee table and turned on the TV. I didn't watch it at all, though. I kept staring at the old photograph. At first, I kept my eyes on my parents. They looked so young, so happy. Gradually, my focus drifted to me. I looked happy too. I must have been almost two when the picture was taken. I couldn't help staring at my diaper. I think I subconsciously made a connection between the diaper and being happy. I didn't have any worries back then. I didn't have anything to make me unhappy. I was completely carefree. I wished I could feel that way again.
I started to long for that carefree happiness again. That comfort, that safety. I had tasted it that morning when I enjoyed the infantile feelings of the diaper. I wanted it back. I decided to get it. Right then. I wiped the tears from my eyes and went to go find Michelle. I took my rabbit with me.
It took me a while for me to find her; I had to check about a dozen different rooms before I saw her sitting at a desk, writing something. She saw me come in. "Hi, Johnny. How are you doing?"
"I'm okay," I said. I must not have looked it. My hair was messed up, the fur on my face was covered with dried tears, and my eyes were all red and puffy from crying. I paused for a minute. I started to talk, but I hesitated. This was going to be tougher than I thought. I looked down at my shoes and put my hands behind my back. "Michelle?"
I bit my lower lip as I considered the magnitude of what I was about to say. Once I said it, it was out there. I couldn't take it back. I could still back out of it and have Michelle continue to think I was sane. Who knew how she would react once I told her? She could say no. She could stop wanting to take care of me. She could send me somewhere else!
Thoughts like that kept running through my head, but then I glanced up and saw Michelle smiling at me. I realized then that she'd never send me away. Her smile was so loving, she would never stop taking care of me. I was slightly reassured by her smile, so I bit the bullet and said it.
"Can I wear diapers?"
I looked down at the floor again. I had said it. It was out there. I couldn't take it back now, no matter how much I wanted to. I had crossed that line. The pause that occurred after I said it was absolutely agonizing. I couldn't bring myself to look at Michelle.
"What's that Johnny?"
She was surprised by my request. I assume she thinks she misunderstood me. But I couldn't tell yet how she reacted. I was forced to repeat myself. "I want to wear diapers." There was an empty feeling in my stomach and the back of my neck was all prickly. I was absolutely terrified. Even though I knew Michelle would never do anything to hurt me, the waiting for her reaction was hard.
"But you do, Johnny. We decided you'd wear them to bed."
"I know. But I want to wear them... all the time." I felt so dirty. I felt weird and sick and crazy. I thought about what I was asking for and I wondered if I hadn't indeed gone off the deep end. I was twelve! What possible reason could I have had for wanting to wear diapers? I felt like I was about to start crying again. In retrospect, I'm surprised I didn't just wet my pants right there. It might have helped my argument anyway.
Michelle walked over and kneeled down in front of me. She raised my chin so I was looking her in the face. She had a slightly confused and slightly concerned expression. "Johnny, why do you want to wear diapers?"
I was so embarrassed. It hurt to look at her. I wanted to turn away so bad. I wanted to run away. I wanted to say, "Just kidding!" and have it all be over. But I couldn't. I had started this and I had to follow it through to the end. Whatever end it may be. I said, "Well, this morning... when I was... wearing... the diaper... I felt... felt kind of... comfortable..." I bit my lower lip again. "I felt... safe... I... I don't know... I felt happy." The tears were welling up in my eyes again.
I gave in. I closed my eyes and I started crying again. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt bad just looking at her. I mumbled softly, "I'm sorry." But Michelle wrapped her arms around me in the biggest hug she had given me yet.
"Oh, Johnny, it's okay... It's okay, Johnny. Don't be sorry, it's all fine... Don't worry." I wrapped my arms around her neck and continued to cry. I was so ashamed. She picked me up and carried me back to her chair. She sat down and set me on her lap. "Dry your tears, Johnny. Don't cry, it's all going to be fine, Johnny. Don't worry."
My breathing was coming in short gasps now, but I followed her advice and rubbed my eyes. I looked up at her, wondering what she meant. "I'm sorry I scared you Johnny... I was just thinking. You see, I was little surprised by what you said." She chuckled a little. "But I think I understand what you want. I can understand why you think that."
"You've just been through a very traumatic experience and you want to escape from all your cares and worries for a while. That could have been partly to blame for your bedwetting. If what you want is to be babied, then what kind of person would I be to keep that from you? It's such a simple, innocent request, too. So don't be scared, Johnny. If diapers are what will make you happy right now, then that's what you will get."
I was ecstatic. All my fears had been dashed. This had lived up to my greatest hopes for how she would react. I almost couldn't believe it. "Y... you mean it?" Michelle smiled at me and gave me another hug.
"Of course I do, Johnny! Do want to start right now?"
I was stunned for a second. "What?"
"Do you want me to put a diaper on you right now?"
Even though this was exactly what I had been hoping for, the actual, real prospect of being diapered again was a little scary. I guess this was what I wanted, so there was no time like the present. I nodded slowly. "Y... yeah..."
Michelle picked me up again. "Okey-dokey, little buddy." She grinned, and we walked off towards my room. The whole way there I was wiping the tears from my eyes. The walk was an interesting one. I was anxious to be diapered, but there was a part of me that didn't want it. Part of me was clinging to my adolescent self-sufficiency. Part of me didn't want to have to rely on anybody for anything. The more "adult," the more "mature" part of me wanted to get by alone. Part of me was afraid of being let down, but I looked at Michelle, and all of those fears were assuaged.
We came into my room and Michelle set me on the edge of my bed. "Lay down, Johnny. I'll be back in a minute." She left, presumably to get my diaper. I stared at the ceiling and clutched my Mr. Bun. I licked my lips in anticipation as I imagined what was to come. The part of me that wasn't looking forward to this kept getting smaller and smaller as I began to understand that this was what I really wanted. I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.
In a few moments, Michelle re-entered carrying a very distinct collection of objects. She set it down beside me on the bed and then turned her attention to my shoes. She untied them and removed them, one by one. She left my socks on, though.
Once my shoes were off, she went for my shorts. As she undid the snap and started to unzip the zipper, all I could do is watch her actions with wide eyes, in a state of disbelief. She paused and looked at me. "You're sure this is what you want, Johnny..." I nodded slowly and hugged Mr. Bun. She nodded. "All right." With that, she unzipped my shorts and pulled them off. I was left in the juvenile underoos she had dressed me in earlier that morning. Granted they weren't as childish as what I was about to be wearing! She folded the shorts and set them off to the side. Then she took my underwear and began to slide it down.
I understand that she was just being careful of my tail, but it seemed to me that she was going painfully slow. Bit by bit, more of abdomen was revealed, my upper thighs, and finally my privates were exposed. Once she was clear of my tail, the rest of the removal was quick. Once my underwear was off, I was left completely naked from the waist down, except for my socks. I can honestly say that my heart was beating pretty darn fast and I had a rather tight hold on my stuffed rabbit. Michelle rolled up my shirt a little to keep it from getting in the way of my diapering.
My whole belly was now exposed along with the rest of my lower body. Michelle reached for the baby powder and began to sprinkle it liberally on my diaper area. The scent was thick and homey. I relaxed immensely as I inhaled the babyish smell. Michelle began to rub it in and I didn't feel the least bit embarrassed. I was too caught up in being cared for. After she had done my front, she rolled me over on to my side so she could powder my rear too. She made sure to get the small area above my tail as well my cheeks. Before she rolled me onto my back, she took the diaper and spread it out beneath me so I would roll right back onto it.
Once she did, I felt the padding beneath me and I heard the crinkling plastic. I closed my eyes and let the feelings overtake me. As I did so, a wide smile gradually grew across my face.
I opened my eyes slightly to see Michelle smiling down at me. She spread my legs apart and raised the front of the diaper. Once the diaper covered my crotch, I began to get the feelings of safety and comfort I had had this morning. The sounds of the tapes being attached were music to my ears! Once it was done, I was safe and secure in my diaper. Somehow, my thumb crawled up to my lips and I began to suck on it.
I hugged Mr. Bun and let out another contented sigh. Just as I was lost in euphoria, Michelle held up my shorts and asked, "Do you still want to wear these?" I was snapped back to reality. I had to think about it, but I decided that I wasn't quite ready to parade around in just my diapers. The fact that I was wearing them at all would be enough for now. I nodded and she began to slip the shorts up my legs.
They were tighter than before, once she got them zipped up and buttoned. But that was okay, they still fit, and I was safe in my diapers. Michelle lifted me up again and set me on the floor. I relished the feeling of being diapered. The bunched up material between my legs, the pressure, the crinkling plastic, it was great! I continued to suck happily on my thumb. My change had left a small film of powder on the bedsheet, which Michelle noticed. She said, "Well, I'm going to have to get you a plastic sheet to lie on. Or something..." She rubbed her chin while she got lost in thought for a moment. Her pondering, speculative look almost frightened me for a minute, but it passed and she smiled at me again.
"Well Johnny, I know it's a little late, but how about we get some lunch?" I smiled and nodded. Michelle led the way back downstairs. I had a little trouble at the beginning of the walk because of the added bulk of the diapers. By the time we made it to the kitchen, I had basically got the hang of it. I sat down at the table in the little breakfast nook, enjoying the padding beneath me. I set Mr. Bun aside so I would be ready to eat. Michelle said, "Just give me a minute to fix you something... In the meantime, this should tide you over." She gave me a small bowl of applesauce. I loved applesauce! "I hope you like it." I didn't waste any time. I immediately dove into the bowl. At the rate I was going, I finished it in moments.
Michelle came over and chuckled at how fast I had eaten. "I'm glad you liked it... but, hold on..." She took a napkin and wiped my face. It seemed I had missed my mouth a little while I was eating. When she had me cleaned off, she smiled. "There we go. Now I've got a little something ready, let me get it."
She came back with a plate that had a crustless PB&J, chips, a glass of milk, and a banana cut into slices. I said, "My mom used to cut bananas that way... She'd call them banana 'pennies' " I closed my eyes and sighed. Michelle came up beside me and hugged me. Then she kissed my cheek. I started to eat and Michelle went back to the kitchen.
In a few minutes, she came back with a salad and a diet coke. I remembered that on the first day I was here she gave me a sandwich and chips, but she'd given me a coke then. Why she gave me milk now I don't know. But I liked milk, so I didn't mind. Michelle quietly munched her salad while I ate my food, not quite as quietly. Something about being diapered had an effect on my table manners.
I finished my glass of milk about halfway through the rest of my meal (my PB&J had too much PB and not enough J) and Michelle refilled my glass. I thanked her and she returned to her salad. We hadn't really talked at all during that meal, and I don't know whether the silence was uncomfortable for me or I just had to say something, but I felt like I needed to talk.
She swallowed her bite. "Yes Johnny?"
I hesitated slightly. "Are you... okay with me? I mean, you don't think I'm weird, do you?"
Michelle smiled at me. "Of course I don't, Johnny! I think the way you're reacting makes perfect sense. And as long as you need me, I'll be there for you. Whatever you need. You have no reason to feel embarrassed or ashamed about anything. All I want is for you to be happy."
I blushed. How could I be uncomfortable with myself when she was so kind and accepting? I smiled and said, "Thank you, Michelle." Then I got back to my meal. Michelle finished just a few minutes before I did, but she just sat there and watched me eat. When I had finished, she took my plate and placed it in the dishwasher.
"Johnny, how about this afternoon we watch a movie?"
"You can go pick it out while I finish cleaning up."
I ran out to her collection of DVDs that I had looked at that first night. Only a few hours before I found out. As I was looking, I stumbled on the large collection of animated children's movies that I had passed over last time. I had decided that they were too juvenile. Considering what had happened since then, I thought they were very appropriate. I carefully looked at my choices, and I decided on two that had been my favorites for quite some time; Lion King and Bambi. Yes, I knew what happened in those movies. I don't know why I wanted to watch them, but I did. I wanted to watch them even though I knew what happened. Maybe it was because I knew what happened. I don't know. I wanted to watch them.
When Michelle came into the room and I handed her my choices, she looked a little puzzled for a second. She asked, "Are you sure you want to watch these, Johnny?"
"I'm sure, Michelle."
"Okay." She patted me on the head and motioned for me to sit on the couch. As Lion King started up, she went out and got a bowl of popcorn and two sodas. A diet coke for her and a regular coke for me. I scooted close to her so we could share the popcorn. I gradually took sips from my soda.
When the movie got to the stampede scene, I began to tear up. Michelle put her arm around my shoulder. I knew it was coming. I knew what was going to happen. A part of me wanted for it to happen and for me to see it. I still don't know why. After Mufasa died, (sorry if I'm spoiling it for you, but it's integral to my story) I started to cry softly. Since we'd finished the popcorn, Michelle had me lay my head in her lap.
I brought my legs up to my chest, wrapped my tail around myself, and began to suck my thumb. Michelle gently stroked my headfur as I whimpered and tears dripped down my face. Eventually, the scene passed and I regained my composure. However, I remained with my head in Michelle's lap and my thumb in my mouth. I was comfortable that way.
Later in the movie, I got a familiar feeling. I had to pee. Reacting as I normally would, I started to ask Michelle if I could get up to go to the bathroom. I popped my thumb out of my mouth and said, "Michelle, can I-" I stopped myself when I remembered my current situation. Michelle didn't know what I was going to ask, though.
"What's that, Johnny?"
"N-nothing, nevermind." I started sucking on my thumb again as I returned to watching the movie. I think I heard Michelle chuckling a little, but I could be mistaken.
"Okay, Johnny. If you say so."
Even though I was looking at the TV screen, I can assure you that my attention was directed elsewhere. I was having an unexpected difficulty with wetting myself. I had done it before, but that was different. That was alone, in my room, when I was awash with babyish tendencies. Now I was laying on the lap of my new caretaker, who a very small part of me was still trying to convince that I was tough and self-sufficient.
I furrowed my brow in concentration as I tried to let it go. Gradually I began to suck on my thumb more strenuously. And yet I produced no results. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't. I knew I had to, but I couldn't do it. I guess I wasn't quite ready yet. But then I got an idea. I got off Michelle's lap. She looked at me curiously.
"Excuse me a minute," I said around my thumb. Since I hadn't bothered to take my thumb out of my mouth, it wasn't quite that intelligible, but Michelle understood. I started to walk out of the room.
"Do you want me to take your diaper off?" I turned back and shook my head. She misunderstood my actions. She thought I was going to the bathroom. Well, I was in a sense. But all I needed to do was be by myself for a few minutes. I wasn't going to the actual room where most people go.
All I did was leave the TV room and turn the corner. I had entered some type of reading room or small library or something, but that didn't matter. I was alone for a minute, which was what I needed. I sat down right there on the hardwood floor. The padding under my behind reminded me of my condition. I closed my eyes and started sucking more thoroughly on my thumb. I pictured myself as I'd seen myself in the mirror this morning: wearing nothing but a wet diaper. I pictured myself as I was in the painting my dad had made. I pictured myself as I was in the photo with my parents.
That did it. No sooner had I created that image than I began to wet. A smile crept upon my lips and I released a contented sigh as the warm, wet feeling spread over my crotch. I could feel the diaper absorbing the liquid as I released it. The wetness spread over the front of my diaper, sank down below and pooled a little at the bottom. Then I had finished.
I looked down expecting to see my diaper, but I jumped back to reality when I saw my shorts. Not only could I see my shorts, but they looked exactly the same as they did before I had wet. No change at all. Interesting. I pushed slightly and felt how moist the material was inside, but it gave no outward sign at all. That was convenient, but I was a little disappointed.
Having done what I set out to do, I returned to the TV room. Michelle smiled at me when I entered. I had been not been gone as long as she had expected, and as I came back she understood what I had done. She patted the couch beside her. I sat back down, laid my head on her lap, and curled myself back into the ball I was in before. Michelle gave me a little pat on my diapered behind and winked at me.
And that was how we finished the Lion King.
When it was over, Michelle slid out from under me and laid my head on a pillow. I didn't even move to help her, I just let her manipulate me how she wanted. Once I was comfortable again, Michelle changed the TV to an all-day cartoon channel that was showing a Looney Tunes cartoon.
"I'm going to get dinner started so it will be ready by the time the second movie is over, okay Johnny?"
I nodded in acknowledgment from my position on the couch. She left for the kitchen while I watched Bugs Bunny outwit his pursuers. I had seen that cartoon before, but it had a nostalgic effect that was comforting to me. It reminded me of my stuffed rabbit, Mr. Bun, which I realized I had left in the breakfast nook when I had eaten my late lunch.
Just as I had almost decided to go out and get it, Michelle came back in. She said, "Before we start the second movie, is there anything I can get you?" I nodded.
"Can I have my bunny?" I had taken my thumb out of my mouth briefly to ask, but then I immediately replaced it. Michelle smiled warmly.
"Sure thing, Johnny. I'll get it." She left for the breakfast nook, and came back a few moments later with Mr. Bun. I extended my free hand to accept it, and she gave it to me. I clutched it close and felt better. Michelle changed the movies and then came back to sit down.
"Sit up for a second, Johnny, and I'll slide in." I sat up, and she took her seat. Immediately after she had settled in, I laid my head back on her lap.
And so we started Bambi.
Bambi had always been a favorite of mine. I mean, there aren't a whole lot of movies with skunk characters, especially not in supporting roles! But that wasn't why I was watching it that night. I had other intents and purposes in choosing Bambi. I knew when it happened in the movie, and I tensed up as it got closer.
When Bambi's mother died, (sorry again) I broke down once more. I started choked sobs as the tears poured down my face once again. Michelle tried to soothe me, but I wasn't listening. She took my head and drew it up to her chest. I curled up as tight as I could and she pulled me entirely onto her lap.
I cried myself out there, nuzzled against her bosom. By the time I finished, I had no tears left. But I stayed in Michelle's lap. Her loving hands held me close. I could feel the warmth of her body. I could feel her slow, steady breathing. I could even feel her heartbeat. And even though my eyes were closed, I could feel her looking down at me.
It was in that position that I realized it; my parents were gone, but they were looking down on me. They loved me, and they wanted me to be happy. Michelle would make sure I was happy. She loved me too. I was safe in her arms, in her care. I didn't have to worry anymore. I felt a great release of tension. I snuggled closer into Michelle's lap.
I didn't see the rest of the movie. I was cuddled in Michelle's lap with my eyes closed, clutching my stuffed bunny and sucking my thumb. It ended, and I didn't move. I was so comfortable. We just sat there for a few minutes, Michelle running her fingers through my headfur. I wanted to cry again, but this time for a different reason. I didn't quite understand it. I was so happy. It was such happiness that I didn't really know how to react. I felt like I wanted to cry, but I didn't.
After what must have been thirty minutes of that, (it went far too fast for my taste - I wanted it to last forever) Michelle stood and lifted me up. I opened my eyes. "Dinner should be ready," she said, "but before that, what say we get you changed?" She smiled and gave me an eskimo kiss. I didn't even have to tell her that I needed to be changed.
She carried me up the stairs and into my room. She laid me down on my bed again. I watched her intently while I hugged my bunny and sucked on my thumb. She had left the diapers and the powder next to my bed the last time she changed me, so they were right at her disposal. She undid the fly on my shorts and slowly pulled them down, revealing the yellowed diaper underneath. She undid the tapes on the sides and lowered the front. The smell of urine was quite noticeable even though it was mixed with baby powder, but Michelle (thankfully) didn't seem to mind.
The air was chilly on my damp privates. Michelle got a look on her face like she had forgotten something, then said, "Hold on, Johnny. I'll be right back." She left me there, exposed and cold, but not embarrassed. I fidgeted a little as the cold air tickled my crotch, but Michelle returned quickly.
She had in her hand a washcloth.
She was going to use it to wash my diaper area. It was wet with warm water, and felt very nice on my chilled loins. She made sure to get every bit of exposed skin, which prompted a soft "yerf!" from me. Once she had cleansed and dried my front, she rolled me on my side and pulled the diaper off, sliding my tail through the hole.
She cleaned the lower part of my part of my bottom, which had gotten a little wet. Then she got the little bit of fur between my legs and let me roll back. Then she got the baby powder. She powdered my front and was very careful to rub it in everywhere, then she rolled me once again and powdered my rear. Before she set my butt down again, she unfolded a new diaper underneath it.
As my bottom came to rest on the soft padding of the diaper, I smiled. She spread my legs apart and pulled the diaper up to cover my front. She fastened the tapes and I was once again safely diapered.
She started to put my shorts back on, but I shook my head. "I'll be okay," I said, "just wearing my diaper." Michelle smiled, set the shorts aside, and said, "Okay, Johnny."
She put her hands under my armpits and lifted me up. She held me against her hip and started to walk out. "Let's get some dinner," she said. She carried me down to the kitchen and set me in the chair. It was an interesting feeling; the warm, soft padding under my bottom and the cold, hard wood under my upper thighs. I sat for a minute, hugging Mr. Bun and sucking my thumb, while I waited for Michelle to get our dinner.
She came back a few minutes later with two big plates of spaghetti. "I hope you like spaghetti!" she said. It seemed to me that she had the uncanny ability to always select my favorite foods. Maybe my parents had told her before she left. I squealed with glee as she set it in front of me. I set my stuffed rabbit aside and grabbed a fork just as she placed a large glass of milk beside my plate and a basket of rolls in the middle of the table.
I started eating right away and with very little concern for what Michelle thought of my behavior. By the end of the meal my entire face and shirt were covered with spaghetti sauce and bread crumbs and I had a big milk mustache. Michelle chuckled, and her laughter made me notice what I looked like. I grinned sheepishly, but I didn't feel embarrassed. I didn't need to.
She said, "In the future, I think we should get you a bib." To my surprise, and probably hers too, I nodded vigorously at the suggestion. I guess it would have at least saved my shirt in this situation. In its current condition, I hardly thought it was salvageable. While Michelle cleared the table I let out a small burp. Afterwards, I said, " 'scuse me."
When the table was cleared and the dishes taken care of, Michelle came back and knelt beside my chair. "Well," she said, "I don't think you can wear that shirt around now. You'll leave a trail. Raise your arms." I did so, and she pulled my shirt off. I was sitting in front of her, clad only in my diaper and a pair of socks. Still, I wasn't embarrassed. "I can go get you another one, unless you don't mind wearing just the diaper."
I smiled at her and said, "That's okay. I'll be fine."
She smiled and ruffled up my hair. I giggled. "All right, little buddy." She stood up. "Grab your rabbit and follow me, I've got something to show you." She walked off. I took Mr. Bun and ran after her. We walked through a few hallways and rooms that I hadn't been in before until we stopped in a room that faced west and had a large plate glass window. The sun was just setting and the image it presented was very pretty.
"Have a seat, Johnny, I'll be right back." I plopped down on the hardwood floor and crossed my legs. I stuck my thumb in my mouth as I gazed at the gorgeous sunset. I glanced down and admired my attire, or lack thereof. I enjoyed wearing my diaper so it was visible. I was comfortable with that. Michelle came back in a few minutes with a large pillow. I mean, a large pillow. Emphasis on large. It must have been large enough for me to lie on fully stretched out, without any of me hanging off. She set the pillow on the floor and said, "Have a seat, Johnny." Instead of walking, I got down on my hands and knees and crawled over to the pillow. I sat down and sank a little into its soft stuffing.
The pillow was so comfortable! The covering was silky smooth and it provided the perfect amount of softness and support. I relished the sensations the case made against the back of my thighs.
Michelle walked over to another side of the room to a piano. There was a piano that I hadn't even noticed!
She sat down at the piano and uncovered the keys. Immediately, she started playing some beautiful classical piece. Her fingers just danced on the keys, it was amazing! My mouth dropped open in astonishment. After she had finished, she turned and smiled at me. "I take it you didn't know I played the piano." I shook my head slowly.
She took a book a music from a shelf next to the piano and opened it. She turned a few pages and began to play again. This time, she started singing along. Her voice was so beautiful. Sweet and soft, but full. I don't know how to describe it. She had been singing for quite some time before I heard what she had been singing. It was "When You Wish Upon a Star" from Pinocchio. I had always loved that song.
When she finished I clapped loudly. She smiled, "Thank you, Johnny." Then she started playing again. She played a whole bunch of Disney songs (the book of music she had was entirely Disney.) She did The Second Star to the Right from Peter Pan, A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes from Cinderella, Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty, and she finished with Baby Mine from Dumbo. I think I should give you some of the lyrics to that song here.
"Baby mine don't you cry
Baby mine dry your eye
Rest your head close to my heart
Never part, baby of mine.
- - -
Little one when you play
Don't you mind what they say
Let those eyes sparkle and shine
Never a tear, baby of mine.
- - -
If they knew sweet little you
They'd end up loving you too
All those same people who scold you
What they'd give just for the right to hold you.
- - -
From your head to your toes
You're not much, goodness knows
But you're so previous to me,
Cute as can be, baby of mine."
I almost melted as I listened to those words being sung by someone so close to me. Considering how I'd felt for the past few days, this was the exact opposite feeling. I felt so completely safe, so free from worry, so loved, so contented. I felt like Michelle would take care of me forever. I was completely free from worry, just like I wanted.
After her Disney montage, Michelle moved on to some stuff that I didn't know as well. It was music that my parents had listened to, I remember. I've gotten very familiar with it since then. It was James Taylor, Simon and Garfunkel, Gordon Lightfoot, Billy Joel, and Cat Stevens. She played song after song as the sun sank on the horizon and the room was hued dark red. She kept playing as the sun vanished, and the room was illuminated only by the light above the piano.
A lot of the time while she was singing, I didn't even hear the words. I would get lost in her voice. It was so beautiful. I would listen to her sing more than I would listen to what she was singing. But it was all so beautiful that it didn't matter. The message of the songs always came through even if I didn't hear the words. It was always love, happiness, and contentment.
While Michelle sang and played Paul Simon's song "St. Judy's Comet" I began to feel drowsy. I rubbed my eyes, yawned and stretched. Night had fallen some time ago and sleep was beginning to overtake me. I laid down on the pillow and curled up, my Bunny still under my arm and my thumb still in my mouth. Michelle looked over and smiled at me.
As soon as I had laid down, Michelle began to play this slow, beautiful lullaby. I fell asleep about half way through it, but since then it's become my favorite song. It's by Billy Joel and it's called "Lullaby/Goodnight My Angel." While she played and sang, I drifted off to peaceful, contented sleep.