Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.
On Sunday Doug reluctantly and self-consciously waddled into the grocery story, scene of last week’s humiliation, spare diaper in hand. The diaper he wore was necessarily pulled up outside his shirt for the world to see. He wished desperately that he didn’t have to do this, but he knew he did. He tried to stare straight ahead and to ignore the stares of shoppers, and fervantly hoped that no one he knew saw him like this. He walked over to the manager’s office and knocked on the door.
“Well, look who’s back,” the manager observed when she saw Doug. “And you remembered how I want you to dress as well; that’s a good start. What’s your name, young man?”
“Doug,” he replied, not wanting to get any more detailed than that. Luckily, it seemed as though that’s all she wanted.
“Well, I’m Mrs. Johnson, Doug,” she said. “As you recall, I told you I’d have one of my employees look after you while you’re here. Let’s see who’s available.” She yelled over to the pretty young cashier who had laughed at Doug the previous week. “Emily, have you had your break?”
The young girl nodded. “Just came off it. Sandy has my register.” Emily walked over, obviously staring at Doug’s visible diaper as she approached.
“Good,” Mrs. Johnson said. “This is Doug. Perhaps you remember him from last Sunday: he wet his pants in Aisle 3.”
“Of course I remember,” she said, giggling. Doug blushed. It had to be this girl.
“Well, this week he’d more suitably dressed, as you can see. But I’d still like for you to babysit him while he shops. Follow him and supervise his behavior. If there is any misbehavior at all, you are to tell me immediately, and you or I will take care of it.”
“What do you mean?” Emily asked, looking at Doug with amusement.
“I mean that if he needs it, one of us will give him a spanking back in the stockroom. He got one last week, and it seemed to work well.” Doug’s head pounded with embarrassment. Doug saw that Emily was having trouble controlling her laughter; Mrs. Johnson, however, ignored her. “Now, Doug, can you tell when you’ve wet or messed in your diaper?” she asked.
Doug frowned. Of course he could, but why did she have to bring that up now, other than to embarrass him? But he had to answer. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he answered with a very shy glance toward Emily.
“Good. I expect you to tell Emily if it happens so she can change you. Emily, you can use the stockroom for that as well; just ask me for the key. And check his diaper several times each visit while he shops, just to make sure: we don’t want a scene like last week because of overflow. If he’s wet or dirty and didn’t tell you first, bring him back here. He’ll need a spanking for that, too, if we think it was intentional.” She turned away from them. “That’s all. You two come back here when you’re done shopping. Be good,” she added, presumably for Doug’s benefit.
They turned away and headed toward the rows of empty carts. “Did you really get a spanking last week?” Emily asked him immediately.
Doug hung his head. “Yes,” he said quietly, hoping she would drop the subject. He picked a cart and they headed for the produce section.
Doug stopped and looked at her. She was half smiling, obviously amused at the idea of his being spanked like a bad little boy. Her blue eyes sparkled, and Doug found himself staring into them for a moment, briefly bewitched by her young beauty. Then he shook himself. She was maybe seventeen or eighteen at the most. And besides that, she knew he was wearing a diaper. Even if she were of a proper age, he wouldn’t have stood a chance with that humiliation. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he said, finally, and turned to look through a bin of apples.
But she was insistent. “No, really. Why?” When Doug didn’t speak, she said, “You wouldn’t want me to give my manager a bad report, would you?”
Doug turned back to her, fear suddenly in his eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she said coyly, her eyes twinkling. “I’m the babysitter. You’d better behave.”
Just what he needed, Doug thought. A teenager on a power trip.
“Look,” he said. “It’s really embarrassing.” Perhaps he could play on her sympathy…
And there was silence for a moment. So she does have a heart, Doug thought. Thank goodness. But then,
“Was it because you wet your pants?” She asked it simply, apparently not to tease him, and without malice. She just didn’t seem to recognize his discomfort. She only seemed very curious and slightly amused. The question was, *why* was she so curious? She ought to be grossed out. Could she actually be turned on by this? He’d always dreamed of meeting a female who could share and participate in his diaper-wearing.
“`Cause my little brother, Joey, got spanked every time he wet his pants,” she went on.
“Oh, really?” Doug replied with irritation, insulted that he should be thought of in the same vein as her stupid little pants-wetting brother. Well, now he knew how she thought of him. He should have known; that would teach him to get his hopes up. He moved on, collecting his groceries.
“Yeah, he’s twelve now, and it doesn’t happen anymore. But he used to do it a lot, and Mom would spank him for it. But he couldn’t help it, I guess.” She followed him in silence for a couple of steps.
“So do you still wet *your* pants a lot?” she asked.
“No,” Doug answered with more annoyance. As pretty as she was, she was unfortunately turning out to be a pest. If she wasn’t interested in him, then she was just being cruel, he decided. He wished he didn’t have to tolerate this. Of course, he wished he didn’t have to tolerate a lot of things these days.
“But you did last week, and that’s why your mom spanked you, right?”
Once more Doug stopped to glare at her. “Look, she’s not my mom, okay? Please just drop it.”
“She’s not?” Emily asked, wrinkling her brow. “Who is she then?”
Oh, boy, he thought: that’s the limit. We can’t get into *this.* He shook his head. “It’s really complicated.”
They were now passing the back corner of the store and the hallway with the bathroom where Doug had been soundly spanked the week before. This distracted Emily from her interrogation, and she remembered one of her duties.
“We should check your diaper!” she chirped happily, tugging at Doug’s sleeve. Reluctantly he left his half-full cart and followed her into the hallway, where they couldn’t be seen by other shoppers.
“Okay, pull down your pants,” Emily said, obviously trying to sound mature. However, her enthusiasm and amusement shone through her facade of professionalism.
“Look, you really don’t need to do this. I know for a fact that it’s dry,” Doug offered hopefully.
She put her hands on her hips indignantly. “I’m the babysitter, not you. You’re just the baby. And *I* want you to pull down your pants so I can see your diaper.” Doug still hesitated. She was so young to be ordering him around. “Do it *now,*” she said sharply.
Doug knew that in this situation, as in many others, he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t know whether or not she’d really make good on the threat to spank him, but he didn’t want to find out. So he unbuckled and unzipped his jeans and self-consciously lowered them to the floor.
“Awwwww…that’s a good boy,” Emily said, in a babyish tone. She laughed at her own efforts at humor.
Doug blushed again, not finding it quite as funny as she apparently did. Emily leaned over and inspected the little indicator stripe, which indeed verified Doug’s assertion of dryness. Despite his embarrassment, Doug felt an erection start to build inside his diaper. For the first time Doug was thankful for the extreme thickness of his diaper, which probably prevented her from noticing. Suddenly she surprised him by reaching out and grabbing the rear of his diaper, squeezing and massaging it gently. She then did the same to the front. Doug was so shocked he didn’t know what to do. What if she felt his erection?
“Just making sure,” she explained to him as she straightened up again. But she said it with a smile that told Doug for the first time that maybe she *was* actually interested as much in what was inside his diaper as in its state of wetness. So what was she “making sure” of? Whether he was wet, or whether he was hard? he wondered.
Or had he just imagined that little supposed flirtation? To Doug’s frustration, Emily now seemed to be subtler about the whole thing than he would have imagined possible for someone of her age. She carried on as if she was really just doing her job, never giving away any more clues as to her feelings or intentions. “Okay, that’s good. You can pull ’em up. We’ll check again later.” She’s apparently a very professional tease, he thought, reassessing his baby-sitter. If she really liked him and had just made a little move on him, she wasn’t letting on to it now.
But why would she tease him? he argued to himself as they returned to shopping. Could she possibly know about his ICP’s prohibition of sex, and was she therefore being purposefully cruel? No, he thought, that’s impossible. His heart quickened. I think she really likes me, he thought excitedly. And she’s actually turned on by my diapers! Oh my God, he thought, unable to comprehend the ramifications of actually having found someone who was turned on by infantilism in general, and *his* infantilism in specific. He’d dreamed his whole life…
His musing was cut short as Emily was back on the attack.
“So if you *don’t* wet a lot, then why do you have to wear diapers?”
Doug didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of anything other than the truth that would be believable. Emily didn’t seem to mind his silence. She kept on jabbering.
“My brother never had to wear diapers for wetting his pants. Well, I mean after he was about four. He kept right on wetting his pants and his bed, and Mom started spanking him for it. She said he was old enough to know better. And Joey would cry, but then he’d keep on wetting. Maybe he *should* have been put back in diapers, like you…” she trailed off, apparently lost in thought. And then:
“Did it hurt?”
Doug was lost. He had been picking out some laundry detergent. “Did *what* hurt?”
“Your spanking. Did it hurt?”
“Yes,” Doug admitted quietly. His inhibitions had dropped slightly since he’d determined that she really did like him. In a relationship as potentially important as this one might be, he could maybe afford to open up a little.
“I bet it did,” Emily said enthusiastically. “Did you cry?”
Whoops. Too far, a little voice in Doug’s head told him. He thought he could possibly talk about some of this, was dying to get some of it off his chest, and was thrilled someone like Emily existed. But he was deeply embarrassed about some aspects of it, and this was one of them. “Emily, I’m kind of upset about the whole thing, okay? Can we please not talk about this stuff anymore?”
Emily was silent as they made their way toward the dairy products. Then she couldn’t resist asking just one more question. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
Doug stopped and stared at her. So much for subtlety, maturity, and professionalism. “No,” he said simply.
“Oh,” she replied, and didn’t say anything else, until Doug was just about ready to check out. “Time for another check.”
They walked back to the rear hallway, Doug’s anxiety and erection simultaneously rising. What would happen this time? Would it…COULD it…lead to anything? He found himself both hoping that something sexual would happen and scared that it might. He’d always dreamed of involving his diapers in a sexual relationship, and this girl was so beautiful! It was better than he could have hoped for! But then, Emily was so young. Perhaps she was even a minor, which both scared him and turned him off. That was a road he didn’t want to walk down. And then there was the omniscient, omnipotent Mrs. Warren, who had expressly prohibited any sexual activity. But Emily was the boss here! If anything happened, it wasn’t his fault, right?
He was torn and confused as she again asked him to pull down his pants. Now he was also scared of being discovered: his erection felt huge. He wondered if even his think diaper could insulate it from her touch. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.
Doug held his breath tensely as Emily, smiling, reached out and caressed his diaper, first in the back, and then, more extensively, in the front. She got a funny look on her face, as if she was considering something. Doug thought he heard her laugh quietly.
He was about to say something, anything, to ease the tension, when she abruptly stopped, stood, and pronounced him dry. Doug let out his breath. Emily had him pull up his pants, and they went back up front, where Doug paid for his groceries. Then they stopped by Mrs. Johnson’s office.
“And were you a good boy today, Doug?” she asked him, though she clearly meant the question for Emily. Doug was pointedly ignored, and he felt like he was three years old, which he noted was becoming a common occurence.
Emily nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He did as he was told. I checked him twice, and he was dry and clean both times.”
“Good for him. Okay, Doug, we’ll see you back next week. Same deal. Thanks, Emily, you can get back to your register,” she added before turning away.
“No problem. No problem at all. G’bye, Doug,” Emily said. She flashed him a meaningful smile. “I’ll see you next week.” At this, she laughed hysterically and walked away.
“G’bye, Emily,” Doug said to her back, and sighed as she walked away. She definitely turned him on, even if she was terminally nosy. The boys at her school must drool over her, he thought. He took his groceries to his car, and spent the rest of the day trying to decide how her obvious fondling of him had been meant. Her parting comment, too, was an obvious reference to the activities she seemed to be planning for next week. He was already worried about it. He had a lot to think about this week. Who knew what his next shopping trip would bring?
Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.
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