Cloth diaper

Danni – My life as a living boy doll Part 9

This story is written by Les Lea

Simon’s fear of Julie had got me thinking about just how cruel she could be sometimes. I had just accepted my circumstances and figured that’s what older sisters were like. I had no experience of others being different as all her friends were exactly the same in treating me like she did. I was their toy and now Simon was his mother’s toy and I wondered if all females were like that. However, Julie had made up fantastic stories for me, she had got this brilliant tunic as a special present, she’d even organised my marvellous party so, how could I be too upset with her? Wearing a nappy wasn’t so bad, although the embarrassment that went with it often was but, Julie… oh… I wasn’t sure what to think.

Once I thought Simon had calmed down enough and wiped away his tears we returned to the party. There was a bouncy castle, a DJ, a juggler and my favourite, a young man who made the most enormous bubbles. He created the biggest I’d ever seen and he was able to put bubbles inside of other bubbles inside… well… he had me clapping wildly at some of the fabulous soapy things he created. The food was really very yummy and we piled into the ice-cream cake so that there was very little left by the end. The older girls organised several little teams and we had games against each other. Simon stayed with me the whole time and eventually relaxed enough to enjoy himself. I knew clothes were no barrier to that but I felt sorry for him as he was continually pulling at the crotch of his shorts trying to make his knickers more comfortable. Meanwhile, I’d never been happier, my nappy and cover were so comfortable and my tunic so fine and light to wear, it was if I had nothing on. Julie’s friend Annabel took loads of photographs of ‘Superman’ and ‘the Hulk’ on the bouncy castle with ‘Snow White’ and ‘Micky Mouse’ or me as ‘Jason’ leaping around with ‘Godzilla’, it was all super fun and she even got a photograph of all us Super Heroes together in one huge shot.

Simon had become known as ‘The Butterfly Girl’ and he was constantly being called that if anyone wanted to get his attention. Quite often we called each other by the name of our costume as we charged around and ‘Butterfly Girl’ wasn’t an insult as, apart from Julie and her friends, no one else had realised he was Simon. Even when I did call him Simon when others were around they never seemed to catch on. The party was incredible from start to finish and I think that was mainly due to the effort that Julie and her friends had put into it. We never stopped eating, drinking or having fun and apart from Simon having a little weep with me, I think everyone enjoyed themselves.

By six parents were coming to pick up their off-spring and my party began to wind down. Simon’s mum had stayed and chatted to my mum and sister though I have no idea what they talked about all that time. Anyway, he was one of the last to leave and, as his mum called for him he reluctantly wondered over to her and took her hand. I asked Mrs McKay if he could come and see me again soon and she said “that would be nice”. She straightened his shorts and jumper, thanked mum, Julie and me for inviting them both and for such an enjoyable time.

C’mon poppet,” she said as they were leaving, “it’s getting very near your bed time.” Simon gave a little resigned shrug of his shoulders and waved to me with a little smile.

Thank you Danni, have a nice rest of your birthday…” His voice trailed off as the door closed behind him.

Mum also shrugged and under her breath I heard her comment “What a strange woman.”

Within half an hour the house was back to normal and although I was exhausted I was also still in a state of some excitement as mum and me cuddled on the sofa whilst I watched a DVD I’d received as a present. She was saying how heroic I looked in my tunic and asked if I liked it too. I told her it was the best present… er… after the piano and that I loved it as well. I liked being Jason and I wanted to wear it all the time.

OK sweetheart,” she hugged me, “as long as you’re happy,” she stroked the material, then my hair and looked searchingly into my eyes. “Whatever makes you happy.” She beamed at me and I’d never felt more content.

In fact I’d got loads of presents; chocolate, sweeties, action figures, DVDs, books, all kinds of stuff, which mum said I’d appreciate more in the morning when we’d organise my Thank You cards to everyone. While mum and I had been watching TV Julie had been chatting with her friends out in the garden (and I guess supervising the caterers and to make sure they didn’t steal anything). When she returned her friends had just left and my DVD was just finishing.

Shall I put Danni to bed mum?” Julie asked standing in the doorway.

Mum looked at her watch. “Mmm if you don’t mind,” she’d been dozing as I’d cuddled up to her but I didn’t want to break away as I was just very relaxed and comfortable.

Aw mum, but I’m not tired. Let’s watch another DVD.” But mum wasn’t having any of my protest.

Go on, it’s past nine… and you’ve been dozing along with me,” she smiled knowing that was exactly what I’d been doing.

There was no point in arguing further as Julie held out her hand and smiled. “C’mon, even heroes need their sleep.”

In my room I begged Julie to let go to bed wearing the tunic but she said that it would get ruined as I tossed and turned in my sleep. She asked if I didn’t want to keep it as special and I had to admit that I did. She helped me out of it and hung it up. I asked if I could keep my golden pants but again she just lay me out and removed them. Surprisingly I was quite wet and hadn’t even noticed but Julie seemed to have been expecting it and whipped off my soaked disposable and wiped me dry.

As usual, she was organised and I was powdered and lotioned in seconds. “I have another surprise for you,” she whispered reaching under my bed. “Annabel and Martine have made you something else… just for you and to celebrate your birthday.”

I suddenly got excited at the prospect of another surprise gift and eagerly watched as she produced a further new outfit for me to wear. The first part of it was like a huge fluffy nappy, which Julie began to attach with relish. I had no idea what the girls had made it from but it was very thick and when she pulled it up between my legs to fasten it in place, I felt my legs being forced wide apart. I wanted to protest but a brief look in my eyes from Julie meant that wasn’t going to happen. She slipped an equally fluffy top (‘bodice’ she called it), up my arms and it fastened down the back, then added a baby’s bonnet, also in this fluffy material and buttoned it under my chin.

You look just perfect.” She smiled and produced a camera and quickly took some photographs. She had me crawl around the floor as she took many more. I wasn’t sure why I was complying as I wasn’t happy about this babyish outfit, but I found myself simply doing as I was told because it was Julie and she’d organised everything else. I suddenly thought of Simon being forced to wear something he didn’t like and how he cried when he thought he’d have to wear it forever. Julie was going on about how talented the girls were to design and make this all by themselves. She was saying how lucky I was to have such friends who made me special ‘pyjamas’ and how ‘adorable’ I looked.

My fantastic birthday was now not so fantastic and thinking about poor Simon I wasn’t really that happy. Julie told me to stop pouting but that only made me pout more and she took more photographs. “OK baby boy,” she smiled, “bed time,” and pulled back the cover. There was a stuffed teddy in exactly the same outfit as I was wearing waiting to greet me. “In to bed now and you’ve got a special friend to sleep with.”

I wasn’t happy but knew better than to create and begrudgingly clambered in with my new ‘friend’. She insisted I hugged the bear and took another photograph.

You really are a very lucky baby, getting all these people to do these things for you.” I didn’t know what she was talking about, “asking the girls to make you this as a special treat.” I still had no idea what she was on about. “You do look adorable but there’s one thing missing.”

The huge nappy meant I could only move with difficulty and had to lie on my back. I wondered what the ‘one thing that was missing’ and she produced a dummy and slipped it between my lips. I immediately spat it out but Julie just pushed it straight back in. When I spat it out again she came up with another solution.

OK, do you want another story about Jason and the Argonauts?” No matter how angry or upset or uncomfortable I was, I always wanted to hear one of her stories and especially if it was about my hero. I sheepishly nodded. “OK then,” and she pushed the dummy back in, “if you spit it out again you’ll never get another story.”

I knew I was beaten so I just sucked it in and settled down to Julie setting the scene for her next tale. It was strange because as she told her story I found myself excitedly sucking on the dummy and feeling really comforted by the huge nappy and fluffy ‘bodice’ and bonnet. I knew I must look like a big baby but as the tale progressed it didn’t bother me at all and I soon settled and fell asleep. No doubt Julie took more photographs of me as I slept with a dummy in my mouth and hugging my teddy.

This story is written by Les Lea

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Chapter 8

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Danni – My life as a living boy doll Part 7

This story is written by Les Lea

There was no doubt about it, Julie had me cowed and I was at her bidding no matter what. She encouraged me to sing in the choir but warned me against Miss Simms placing too much pressure on me (she had said it was the pressure to perform that had made me wet myself, and I believed her). She told me that boys would only take advantage of my sweet temperament (her words) so basically the only person who was looking out for me was her. She kept going on about when I was a baby how much fun I was, how much I enjoyed the games we played and how much I liked being looked after. She thought because of all the ‘trauma’ of growing up and the ‘problems’ it was causing, she should let me be a “baby” again. It was a time she said I was happiest. I somehow knew that all the ‘trauma’ and ‘problems’ were as a result of the way she treated me but I wasn’t able to offer much in the way of resistance and that meant I was back to being her baby… her toy.

I was wearing nappies or pull-ups permanently – for bed, for school, for trips, for, well everything. I had given up fighting Julie she was a force I could not defeat and I wasn’t equipped for battle, I just gave in and did what she wanted. After all, I had no real say in what was going on, it kept her in a good mood and mum seemed happy that my ‘problem’ was now well contained. I was so compliant, and mum so comfortable with the way things currently existed, she even patted my well-padded bottom before we went anywhere and smiled contentedly that everything was ‘okay’. I took it as natural; this was how it was meant to be even if all the other kids in my class didn’t wear nappies and such. Julie said that the reason I did was because I was ‘special’, that I was better than any of the other kids because I had a loving sister who only wanted the very best for her sweet little baby brother.

In my own small way I did try to rebel because I didn’t like to wear a wet nappy. When she wasn’t around I always made it to the bathroom in time by sliding my hand up my shorts, struggling valiantly with the padding before pulling out my willy and doing what I had to do in the toilet. Not having a wet nappy when she checked me was a small victory but I think it annoyed her slightly.

However, one day we were playing in the park and I needed to go so I suggested a game of hide and seek. The idea was that I would hide first; she would count to 50 and then attempt to find me. Cleverly, I thought, I could quickly hide behind a bush, release my willy and do it before she came and found where I was hiding. Alas, I struggled longer than I thought with the tight fitting nappy and as I nervously peed into the bushes she came up behind me.

You naughty, dirty boy,” she screamed… and I froze in mid flow. “In public, how disgusting.” She grabbed my arm, pulled down my pants and nappy and spanked me hard on my bare bottom.

This time it did hurt and my pleading and screaming I was sorry was having no effect as she reddened my bum cheeks. It was all over in a matter of seconds but I was crying for real and she had managed to make me feel terribly ashamed of myself. I was still crying as she removed my t-shirt and I was led naked back to our blanket on the ground where we’d been picnicking. People were looking but no one said anything as she lay me out and re-fitted the old disposable I had been wearing. She pulled it tight and taped me firmly in place then she did something I will never forget – she poured a whole can of fizzy orange juice down the front. I couldn’t stop her and as the nappy absorbed the liquid, the thing expanded and changed from white to a very obvious pale orange. It felt massive between my legs – it was also cold, sticky, wet and it set me off crying even more.

You’ve been a very dirty… naughty… disgusting boy.” She threatened as I sat wondering what I was going to do. “This will be your punishment until we get home so everyone can see just what a naughty, dirty little baby brother I have.”

I was both ashamed and inconsolable because she’d made me feel that it was my fault that I had made her do what she’d done and that of course, it was for my own good. I had to learn to be “a good obedient little boy”.

Walking the half mile or so home she wouldn’t let me wear anything but the messy orange nappy. It wasn’t very nice to walk in and of course I was waddling trying to keep up as she all but dragged me home. At the door she told me in no uncertain terms that mum would be furious about my shameful peeing in public and that she wouldn’t be at all surprised if she also spanked me. I was terrified of entering my own home. Of course I had to promise to be good, do exactly as I was told and, more importantly, use the nappy when I needed to go. She said she wouldn’t tell mum about what I’d done if I agreed and ‘swore an oath.’ I wasn’t sure what that was but as she said it was the most solemn promise, that even God would punish if I broke, it was the only thing she said that would stop her from telling mum. Of course I agreed and repeated the oath that Julie made me swear ‘on my life’ to uphold. Once through the door mum wondered why I’d been crying and why was I only wearing a very soggy nappy. Julie looked down at me and said it was another one of my ‘accidents’ and that she didn’t have a spare disposable to change me and she didn’t want all my other clothes to get messy. Mum looked pitifully at me and I saw sympathy in her eyes.

You poor little thing.” She hugged me to her. “Never mind, you are home now… I’ll take care of you.”

Julie tried to intervene. “It’s OK mum, I’ll see to him,” she seemed a little worried that her orange scam might be found out. “I have a fresh nappy in my room for him…”

You do enough Julie,” mum said taking hold of my hand and leading me upstairs. “I think I’ll change my sweet boy.”

Julie was left to worry about any possible outcome but she should have been confident in her powers and influence over me as I never said a word against her as mum cleaned me up. As my room was now, thanks to Julie, more or less a nursery, all there was lying around were pull-ups or disposables (my thick cloth nappies Julie always kept in my underwear draw – or what had once been my underwear draw). So mum, still thinking I had a wetting problem, cleaned me up, powdered me and fitted me into a clean and tight disposable, and asked if I was okay. My tears had stopped but my bottom still smarted from Julie smacks so I just nodded. She wondered if I wanted to take a nap as I looked worn out. I wasn’t tired but I thought it might be best if I hid myself away for a little while so as mum tucked me in I gave her a kiss and said I was sorry.

It’s OK sweetheart,” she whispered back, “It’s not your fault, accidents happen. You just have a nap and then things won’t seem so bad.”

Everything seemed nice when mum was like this but I still couldn’t tell her anything, after all, I just sworn an oath, on pain of my death, if I revealed just what had actually happened. No Julie had me and I was now, if I was in any doubt, completely under her control.

Over the next few weeks Julie upped her game. Her idea for my clothing was a thick nappy, pink or blue plastic pants and tiny shorts that gave no hiding place for my protection. For bed she had me thickly nappied, often wearing a footed onesie that had a zip up the back (so I couldn’t remove it even if I’d wanted to), which had been a surprising addition to my wardrobe, as had a short onesie that fastened with press studs between my legs. Where these items had appeared from I didn’t know but I had expertly been returned to my infanthood even though my eighth birthday was rapidly approaching.

My loving sister had got me all excited about my birthday. She said she had planned a party for me and wondered if there was anyone special who I’d like to invite. I told her Simon if she could get an invitation to him. She enthused back that she was positive he’d love to come and she’d make an extra effort to ensure he received his invite. She even had me write a special ‘please come’ on the bottom of his card, which I then watched her drop in the post box.

This story is written by Les Lea

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

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Danni – My life as a living boy doll Part 6

This story is written by Les Lea

Being brought up by Julie had made me the boy I was. I wasn’t one for games, in fact, other than with Simon I had hardly played with any other boys of my age. They scared me and with Julie’s protection, I’d never needed to toughen up. Some might say I was lucky to have such a sister, and indeed, I never thought anything other than that but, as we both got older it was as if she didn’t want me to grow up.

She was making things up that I did or didn’t do when she spoke to mum, and mum, being mum, believed everything she said or suggested. It wasn’t that mum wasn’t bothered it was just that she’d left me in Julie’s hands for so long, she had no idea how I should be. If I complained to her about having to wear something she always made me remember how much I’d enjoyed dressing up before. When I think about it, I always did have a smile on my face as me and Julie had played her dressing-up games. I didn’t know any better but mum now saw it as “Just the way you are”. I think she thought it was what I wanted and I liked all that kind of thing; being dressed as a girl or being babied by all her friends. In many ways I suppose I did, or at least it never worried me but, I’d begun to want the same as what the boys at school had.

At school I was introduced to the choir and found that I loved singing in assembly as much as I’d enjoyed singing in front of Julie and her chums. The teachers thought I was very good and began to offer me more and more songs to take the lead on. I was very nervous about being pushed forward but Miss Simms, the music teacher gently coaxed me and, perhaps because she was a woman, I did as I was told. It was OK if I was surrounded by the rest of the choir and I was just one amongst a group but when I had my solo I became quite scared. I’m not sure why but it was worse if mum or Julie were watching and on one occasion I peed my pants centre stage. Julie saw what I’d done and because of the sudden appearance of a wet spot on the front of my shorts she leapt into action. Even before Miss Simms could come to my assistance Julie was up on the stage and gently leading me off, her words full of sympathy, but her firm grip telling me otherwise.

How she knew what would happen I do not know but I was led to a classroom, my shorts and briefs taken down and she rummaged in her schoolbag and produced a disposable nappy. She had no powder or lotions this time but just wrapped me in it, pulled it up between my legs, fastened the sticky tabs in place and yanked me to my feet. A few fellow pupils had gathered in the doorway to watch the proceedings and Miss Simms was trying to get through the cordon. I could see the sympathy in her eyes but Julie just said that she wasn’t to worry, no one blamed her for my distress and that she was sure no real harm was done. Miss Simms was taken aback at this slight but as Julie had already grabbed my hand and was ushering me away from the cluster of kids (and associated parents) she hadn’t formulated a response as Julie hurried me to mother’s car waiting to pick us up.

It was my moment of achievement… something I’d done without Julie… or mum and I’d wet myself. I was crying as we got into the car and mum was wondering what had happened. A very empathetic Julie explained how I was ‘brilliant’ and was singing ‘beautifully’, when I just peed myself. Again, all the words she said sounded like she was so sorry for me but I knew that she loved every minute of my humiliation. As I sat down she even apologised to mum that she hadn’t got any plastic pants for me to wear to protect the car seat… and suggested that in future we should all carry a spare pair for just such emergencies. Mum just nodded to Julie, tried to cheer me up with the offer of ice cream, tickled me under the chin and told me that I was her ‘special little boy’.

I was sobbing quietly in the back seat with Julie gently stroking my hand and telling me not to worry, and that lots of boys my age had these accidents. Fine soothing words for her but quite terrifying for me as it gave her another excuse to keep me in nappies. It also meant that from that moment on Julie would insist that I wear protection for school, as, she explained to mum, she didn’t see why the teachers should have to deal with my ‘damp spells’. Again mum nodded in agreement and Julie suggested that we call in and get some suitable protection on the way home. As we pulled into the shopping centre car park I didn’t want to get out but both mum and Julie were adamant I couldn’t sit there alone. I weepily suggested that Julie stayed with me but she said that she had things she wanted to buy. There was no way round it… I walked into the pharmacy and to the nappy section wearing my bright and dry disposable. There was absolutely no doubt as to what we were there to buy.

Julie found a huge case of pull-ups about my size and took them over to mum. She also found some cloth nappies, pins and a couple of pairs of colourful plastic pants. She added tubs of baby powder and lotion. I was filled with embarrassment and had my eyes glued to the ground throughout the entire proceedings. Even at the cash desk, as mum paid and Julie held all the products, I couldn’t look at the teenage lad who was on check out as I was certain he would be laughing at me. Just before he rang through the pull-ups he asked mum if she wanted to change them as they were for young girls, they had cartoon princesses all over them, apparently, there were some with cars on for little boys. But an exasperated sound came from Julie who was already on her way out with the rest of the stuff so mum just shrugged and the lad beeped them through.

Mum had said that we were going to get ice cream but I hadn’t thought she meant in a public place and as we drove into the café that was my favourite location because of its selection of flavours I began to cry again saying I didn’t now want any ice cream. Mum was about to turn around but Julie said that even if I didn’t she would like some and also implied I was lying and that I was just being silly.

What little boy didn’t want ice cream?” The fact was I did but not dressed as I was.

Julie was very quick. “Is it because you’re only wearing a disposable?” I nodded. “Would you be OK if we put you in something else?” Again I nodded almost beginning to cheer up at the prospect of the big sundae I was planning on treating myself to. “OK then, that’s what we’ll do.”

So as mum went off to order our tasty treats Julie set about changing me in the back of the car. I was relieved when the disposable came off and she wiped me dry with some of the wipes we’d just bought. She powdered me and was all ‘loving’ and ‘sweet’ as she massaged it in, then she delved into the case of pull-ups and unfurled it. At that moment I wasn’t thinking about the image on it, all I knew was that it was more like wearing underpants than a nappy, but once I was in them she opened the door and dragged me out. I was standing wearing just a pair of princess pull-ups and a white school polo shirt.

There,” she said triumphantly, “fit for a… prince… ess” and led me to the café.

She gave me that grip and a very stern warning not to upset mum by acting up or crying and said that if I did she would spank me herself when we got home… and… she inferred… after today’s performance and the expense and the embarrassment to her and mum… no doubt mum would spank me too.

The café was full of kids all enjoying their selection of fruity flavours and I was just another tasty morsel that they could enjoy by laughing and tittering as I walked by. It was the worst, and longest, ice cream I’d ever had and I did cry and… wet myself. Needless to say, Julie pointed this out to mum and, as I was bawling my eyes out, it was agreed that I was getting worse and perhaps stronger protection may be needed. The princesses, not able to withstand my soggy torrent, meant I had to ride back home in a very wet pull-up.

This story is written by Les Lea

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

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Danni – My life as a living boy doll Part 5

This story is written by Les Lea

I didn’t see Simon again, the teacher said that his mum was now home-schooling him, which greatly upset me. I still found it difficult to make friends with others in class so I immersed myself in painting and music. I tried to learn to play the recorder, which Julie said was an instrument of torture when I tried to practice in my bedroom. Often, if she was around, she would distract me with one of her games and even though I was getting older, she still had me dressed either in some of her old clothes or in a nappy so she and her friends could practice changing me and in so doing become ‘good mummies’ for when they had babies of their own. My rebellious streak had disappeared as quickly as Simon and my ‘big boy briefs’ and it was back to normal in our household.

Julie redoubled her insistence that at night I was to wear protection. She even doubled the thickness of my nappy and I found bedtime a bit of an ordeal but she wouldn’t let me wear pyjamas; a thick nappy and plastic pants were all I was allowed with an occasional t-shirt if I was lucky. In retrospect I was being punished but of course, all the ‘love’ and ‘attention’ she was lavishing on me was for her benefit. She even told mum that I’d begun to wet the bed again, “No doubt caused by the stress of school”, she added sympathetically, so my dear mother didn’t object to me being put to bed dressed the way I was. She believed anything that Julie said, and why shouldn’t she, her daughter had more of less brought me up so why would she possibly lie.

One night I did wet myself, having been given a huge glass of cola just before I went to bed. Julie had come into my room, checked on my nappy, felt that I was wet and had slipped away pretending she didn’t know. Somehow she’d managed to get mum to check on me so she was able to discover for herself why her son needed to keep his protection on at night. I couldn’t deny I had wet myself, so I couldn’t fight what was coming next.

Mum, Julie and I went shopping for new summer clothes. I was quite excited as I thought I’d get to choose a new outfit and I’d seen some of the boys in class wearing t-shirts with action figures on that I liked. In fact, the film that the characters were from had spawned a huge range of clothing for boys and girls and I hoped that mum would buy me some.

Julie had got me ready and insisted that I now wear a nappy when we were out, as she said, “Just to be on the safe side.” I was relieved that she hadn’t made me wear a dress but there was absolutely no doubt what I had on under my shorts. The bulge and the fact that my shorts were very short so my nappy and plastic pants could easily be seen broadcast to everyone who was interested that I was a seven year-old (almost 8) who still wet himself.

We visited a big, out-of-town mall so that mum could do all her shopping in one place. I stayed with mum as she looked around for clothes to buy for herself and no matter how much I tried to ask for things, the answer was always “Later” or “Maybe” or “Let’s wait for Julie”. Meanwhile, Julie was secretly buying stuff for me. She just filled up the trolley with the items she wanted, no matter what it was, and mum would just pay for it, such was the trust mum had with her. At one point I think mum had got so fed up with me whinging on about a new t-shirt with the film character on it, she relented and bought it for me. I was so excited and grateful I didn’t complain for the rest of the visit.

The mall was quite busy and we were there for a long time. I noticed other kids sniggering and pointing to my nappy hanging down from my shorts but there was nothing I could do about it and I noticed Julie was smiling at every comment. When I asked mum if I could go to the toilet she said it was miles away from where we were so, why didn’t I use the nappy as that’s what it was designed for. I was shocked at such an idea but Julie was in agreement with mum and after trying to keep it in for ages, in the end I just couldn’t any longer. I was waiting in line at the cash register when I felt the first involuntary spurt but once it started I couldn’t hold back and I flooded my nappy, which seemed to swell in my shorts. Thankfully, the plastic pants seemed to act as a barrier and my shorts gave no indication of what I’d done. However, once we’d passed the checkout Julie noticed I was walking differently and without asking, she pulled down my shorts and checked my nappy.

Ughhh, Danni’s wet himself again,” she said. “Don’t worry I’ll change him.”

Mum smiled her thanks and Julie gripped my hand, grabbed one of the bags and dragged me to a toilet opposite where we were. If I’d know I could have easily made it that far but I didn’t and now it was just too convenient for Julie. There was a baby’s changing room attached and there were two or three mothers in their taking care of their young off-spring. They were babies or toddlers and I was by far the eldest but that didn’t stop Julie picking me up, despite my protest, and laying me out on the plastic foam table. I was telling her it could wait until we got home but she was adamant that I was to be changed there and then. Of course, stupidly I had thought that we hadn’t brought any extra nappies with us, and of course we hadn’t, but she had been busy buying and I now found out what was in the bags.

I was acting up and the fact that there was an audience didn’t stop me shouting that I didn’t want to be changed. I saw the sympathy on the faces of the other mother’s as this ‘poor young girl’ had to deal with this objectionable, noisy, belligerent boy… who she was only trying to clean-up and make dry. However, when Julie said that I’d get smacked if I didn’t calm down and let her get on with it, I could tell from the way she was looking at me that I’d better not push her. The defiance left me as her determined face left me in no doubt that any more disruption, argument or noise would result in a smack. The second I gave in she whipped off my shorts, pulled down the plastic pants and released my soaked nappy. The cool air rushing about my boyish ‘willie’ felt peculiar after the warm embrace of my pee-filled protection, however, as she opened a carton of wet-wipes and proceeded to clean me – front and back she was not interested in my obvious humiliation.

Julie realised she had no powder and asked a nearby lady, who was just finishing sprinkling some over her baby girl, if she could spare some. The woman smiled and handed it to her, which was followed by a few of the other women offering help. Lotion, oil and extra padding were all offered and she happily took the lot. Thanking everyone and saying how kind they all were, helping her and her ‘unfortunate incontinent brother’. I didn’t know at the time what the word meant but the women’s look of pity on my sister told me I’d either been very naughty, or they thought she was some kind of martyr.

Some of the mothers had left but one or two hung around just in case she needed any further help. However, she couldn’t have planned it better as she pulled out a huge terry nappy, folded it into a triangle and placed it under my well powdered bottom. Then seeing that she had two thick absorbent pads that had been given to her by the mums still milling around she folded them into the nappy and pulled the entire thing up between my legs. It was huge and spread my legs far apart but she wasn’t finished. The plastic pants were retrieved from the soggy pile and, with some difficulty, pulled into place.

Now she pulled off my top and fed my arms into a new, clean t-shirt she produced from her bag. She pulled it down and only when it was in place did I notice the childish images of animals all over it. I was about to protest but I noticed that look in her eye and held my tongue. Suddenly she was fastening some press-studs between my legs and I was wearing, what looked to me when I saw my reflection in the mirror, like a large baby-grow. This was too much and I started screaming and shouting at her. There was only one mum left and she was exiting as I started acting up. With a look of absolute malice Julie threw my soggy nappy and shorts into the bin, dragged me to my feet, spanked my padded bum and in no uncertain terms told me to behave.

Although it didn’t hurt I was in shock, in all the time we’d been brother and sister she had hardly so much as raised her voice to me. This sudden turn of events cowed me completely and I meekly did what she wanted. She told me to agree with anything she said to mum or she’d spank my bare bottom when we got home. So, there I was, in a mall, in a thick, thick nappy and looking more babyish than I ever remember when I was a baby and my sister was looking pleased with herself. She told my mother that there had been loads of mothers changing their children in the room and things had got misplaced or taken in the confusion. My shorts and top had gone missing but thankfully a couple of the women had helped and offered some items they had… so that was how I ended up looking the way I did.

The way Julie told the tale it all sounded so plausible. I’m not sure how much, or if indeed any of it she believed, but mum said she was just thankful that I’d been dressed in something. However, I was led through the mall, waddling with difficulty in my extremely bulky nappy and wearing baby clothes. Julie was holding tightly onto my hand and occasionally whispering threats to me if I didn’t stop looking so miserable. It was difficult to be cheerful and I suppose, not surprisingly, I started to sob. I think this little touch added to my babyishness and was the cherry on the cake for Julie.

This story is written by Les Lea

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

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Telephone

Telephone

Whenever a toddler hands you a “phone”, you answer it damn it-I mean dang it.

Caiden and Kyle decided to play “telephone” with the classic tin-can-and-a-sting. Kyle rigged it up, gave one end to his little brother, and ran around the corner and down the hall. The two cubs giggled as they sent silly messages back and forward to each other. Those messages progressively got naughtier and naughtier as time went on to the point Kyle was using swear words.

As this was happening, Caiden remembered how his older brother ratted him out when he was sneaking a few cookies. As a result Caiden was given a few swats on his rear and lost dessert privileges for a couple days. The youngest cub was not soon to forget his troubles as he found the perfect opportunity to get back at his brother.

While Kyle was spewing expletives through his end, Caiden caught his mother’s eye with a sweet look on his face and waving the can in his paw, beckoning her to come over and take a turn. His mother accepted (I mean, how could you not?) took the can, and placed it up to her ear. Much to Caiden’s amusement, he saw his mother go from happy to very upset as she heard the naughty words coming from the other end.

Their mother had chided Kyle before about his mouth, but she never heard him spew anything like that before. Cheryl moved her way down the line with her toddler in tow to find a very surprised Kyle at the other end.

The rest of the afternoon did not fair well for Kyle as he was promptly taken to the bathroom to have his mouth washed out with soap. After, he was sent to his room where his mother shortly followed him and paddled his bare hiney red. All the while Caiden had a big smirk on his face as he enjoys a little schadenfreude.

Furrys and above text belongs to tugscarebear

Draw by marinaneira

Source: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/32060604/

Someone sure is pretty naughty right now and i sure his butt is going to remember this spanking for a wile.

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Danni – My life as a living boy doll Part 1

This story is written by Les Lea

My older sister has been dressing me up since I was a baby. Shortly after I was born, Julie, who was 5 at the time, took it upon her young shoulders to look after her baby brother and make sure no harm came to him. Apparently, even at her early age, she was the one who washed and changed me and made sure I was clean and tidy at all times. She chose and fitted the nappy I was to wear, the plastic pants, the romper outfit, the clothes, she bottle fed me, winded me and choose my dummy…every decision seemed to be down to her. My mum would go shopping but it was always Julie who decided on the clothes she thought I should wear and, as it took a great deal of stress away from my mum, who had other things to think about, like running her own business, I was more or less brought up by my loving and attentive older sister.

My mother, a ‘peppy’ Californian girl had arrived in England desperate to get bedded by the lead singer of one of the world’s top rock bands. She followed them on tour but the closest she ever got to having her way with the singer, was to be part of an orgy that the bass guitarist held in his hotel room. It was after that dispiriting experience she decided she needed to find something else to occupy her time. From being a trainee at a London advertising agency, she quickly rose up through the ranks and within two years was heading her own creative department. A year later and she went solo, taking a whole host of the firm’s client base with her and making an absolute fortune in a very short time. She spent all her time working and had little time for relationships. Julie was the result of her first failed marriage to the boss of the original agency she had worked for – it had lasted 22 months and was a messy divorce. I think the fact she took so many of his clients with her hadn’t helped in the settlement. Her husband, Julie’s father, had wanted nothing to do with his young offspring when the divorce was finalised, so mum was left to bring her up on her own. From an early age Julie was encouraged to be her own person and mum saw her young but determined daughter flourish when given responsibility. On the other hand I was the product of her getting shagged by a young sexy intern.

I gather I was created over her office desk by an 18 year-old who, I understood, had just left a local art college. Apparently, mum had taken to him from the moment of his interview. His fine bone structure, his soft flowing blond locks, a gentleness and soft speech that set him apart from all the other young go-getters, really appealed to her. After the experience with her much older first husband, she set her sights on good-looking young men who would satisfy her occasional sexual cravings… and, she being who she was… the boss, got into his pants at the first available opportunity. Mum may have been 15 years older than her sex toy but she was (and is) a fantastic looking woman so I suppose it wasn’t that much of an ordeal for him. I must have been conceived on that very first occasion, mum obviously not taking the correct precautions because, two months later, when she realised she was pregnant, the young intern disappeared from the company pretty quickly. Mum told me many years later that he was a terrific, gentle lover and would have been a fine father, but at his age she knew he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, face such responsibilities and her guilt about using him had made it so he would simply slip into the annuls of history without the knowledge he was a father. His name was Daniel and that is what mum called me.

Perhaps another thing you might be interested in knowing is that I was a ‘star’ baby. Mum, always keen to keep an eye on her projects, had bundled me up a few weeks after my birth and had taken me along to an important client’s photo shoot. The photographer thought I was there for the scene and used me instead of the baby who’d been booked for the part. Apparently, even just weeks old, I was a very cheerful and passive baby who seemed to smile and gurgle all the time. I was adorable – according to both my mum and that original photographer. From then on I appeared in TV commercials, my naked bum being lathered with baby oil, wearing the latest disposable nappy or having me sucking in the latest milky formula… I was much in demand. Indeed, up until I was 2 years old I was used to sell every conceivable product for babies and toddlers. I was also the face for a range of baby food and milk products and according to my mum, I was on TV and posters right around the world. Alas, my career was over by the age of two when I was just too overused and a new face was needed. I can’t say it worried me one way or the other. Evidently, I’d been a baby boy or girl, depending on what sex the client wanted, and my sweet cute ‘none-specific gender’ looks meant I was the right image for whatever product they wanted to promote.

As a baby I was often mistaken for a girl. People would come up to the pram and goo-goo at my cuteness and say what a gorgeous little girl I was. My blond curly hair not adding much to the image of being a boy and the clothes, all pastel colours, lace and ruffles, contributing to the gender confusion. Although my name was Daniel, ever since I was a baby, Julie always called me Danni (with the emphasis on the ‘a’) and it seems that everyone else followed suit. In fact, I’m told that Julie would correct anyone, even family members, who called me Daniel insisting that I prefer Danni, the truth is I never had a say in anything. My life was pretty much organised by my sister, and to a lesser extent, my mother, so very little male influence ever entered my life. I suppose I was dressed more often as a girl than a boy because Julie was in charge of my wardrobe, so whether it was shorts or a skirt, it was all the same to me as I never knew if one was for a boy or girl. Even my mum’s occasional boyfriends weren’t really bothered, I think all they saw were two young children – both of whom were girls.

I remember one of her boyfriends, as always he was young but a bit rougher than her usual ‘type’, who used to ask me to dance for him. Although I was quite shy I had been encouraged to dance by Julie from a very early age, so thought nothing about such a request and I was hoping to please this new man in my mother’s life. He obviously thought of me as a little girl as every time he’d seen me Julie would have me dressed in a rather feminine way. On this one occasion I was about to attend a party organised by my sister, which included her friends and various dolls. I was dressed in a peach coloured satin dress and matching peach ruffled knickers that she had worn to parties when she was my age and thought the ensemble was the perfect festive wear. To me it was all the same, I wore what I was told and at 5 years old, it made no difference to me as I’d been wearing such stuff all my childhood.

However, dressed as I was, and dancing up close to my mother’s boyfriend, he grabbed me and pulled me close up between his legs telling me what a clever little girl I was and how pretty I looked and what a terrific dancer I was. Meanwhile, as I partly danced and partly squirmed about in his ‘loving’ embrace he was tickling me and trying to make me giggle, which I did. Unfortunately, as we were both laughing and ‘enjoying’ the moment I felt myself release a bit of pee. As the tickling continued it was pretty soon a flood and my satin peach-coloured ruffled panties became sopping wet through.

Mum came in wondering what all the laughter was about and saw me wet and wriggling in pure delight.

He’s always doing that. He loves to play dress up with his sister but…” She noticed I had a damp stain. “Poor boy has got over excited. Come on sweetheart let’s get you sorted out.”

As I left I looked back and he looked stunned. I think it was the first time he knew I was a boy.

When Julie saw the mess on my stained underwear she assumed whisked me away to be changed. This time, and even at 5 years-old, I was nappied and returned to the party in a new clean outfit that barely concealed my new protective plastic pants that rustled noisily as I moved. Again everything matched; they were lace trimmed, like the new blue frilly dress I was wearing (another set of Julie’s old clothes that had never been thrown out and that I now struggled to fit into). Once I was looking pretty and dressed accordingly I was finally allowed back into the fun with her friends where we all sat down to fairy cakes, ice cream and juice… Julie always threw a terrific party.

This story is written by Les Lea

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Chapter 2

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Babs From Down-Under

Babs From Down-UnderDraw and everything by Diegesis

Source: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/32005984/

Awww looks like this baby kangaroo have found a a good and nice friend to hug :)

They sure seems happy to be together.

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Out for the Count

Out for the Count

Suan and Dewo thought they had what it takes to take the wrestling stage by storm, unfortunately for them, the pamper league has some fun rules for newcomers. Should you get pinned, it is a literal pin, you get diapered up and a golden pin to strapped on, counting down. As it hits closer to zero, your mind begins to swirl and babying thoughts enter your mind, don’t be surprised if you start using your Diaper in this situation.

When the timer hit’s 0, time is up, your eliminated, the pin locks in place and it’s back to the nursery with you. Suans got a one way trip to the pre-school league, and dewo is going to join her soon unless she can get that pin of, accursed booties make everything so much harder!

Order and above text by Neko_Neko_Diamata

Draw by CatMonkShiro

Source: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/31939324/

Yes Dewo countdown sure counting down fast to zero. Its only two seconds left so i dont think he is going to be able to remove that safety pin in time here.

Or can he make a rapid comeback here?

But one thing for sure they both sure is in need of some new diapers.

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