This story is written by Les Lea
Though it’s a name I never really liked, Benjy just seemed appropriate at that moment. She took my hand and guided me back to Teddy who once again seemed more than happy to see me, even dressed as I was. Gwyneth was keen that we should cuddle on the floor (not me and her, me and Teddy) so she could get another photograph. He was so cosy and soft it was like falling into warm butter and, as I squeezed him tightly, his furry arms appeared to embrace me at the same time. There is something very satisfying about a soft, yielding bear that welcomes you into its arms and responds with soft fleecy tickles to your naked body. Everywhere his fur touched produced a wonderful sensation; little ripples of giggly pleasure and velvety reassurance added together with delicate caresses made me feel very safe… and very loved.
There was one thing missing and I was surprised when Gwyneth suddenly produced the finishing touch. She slipped a huge blue pacifier between my lips, which I had no idea how she got or where it came from. At that moment I didn’t question anything as Gwyneth started organising and taking her snaps.
It was no problem snuggling with Teddy and to tell you the truth I was thoroughly enjoying myself. This was the most intimate contact I’d had with anyone (or anything) since, well, since I was five and had my final cuddle with the original Teddy… and I appreciated this renewed relationship.
The room was warm and I was comfortable wearing only a made-up diaper. It fitted tightly so wasn’t falling down every few seconds and once Gwyneth had finished taking her photos, we settled down to finish our meal, well dessert actually. It was nothing special except a rather colourful ice-cream medley. We decided to have it sitting on the sofa whilst watching a late night movie. Teddy was just too big to sit with us so he sat at my bare feet, tickling them every time I brushed against him, which I did regularly, so I was smiling when my sister brought in the dessert in a bowl.
She then did something we’d never done before; she fed me spoonsful of the stuff in between taking the odd mouthful for herself. It was a lovely tender and unexpected moment. At one point we were in fits of laughter because she’d offered some to Teddy only for him to turn it down. I think she sneakily nudged his head so it looked like he was refusing the creamy delight.
“Well I suppose someone’s got to think of their figure,” she shrugged and we both sniggered like tots at that.
The movie was boring and the wine had made me very tired so I excused myself and brought my 18th birthday celebrations to a close. Gwyneth gave me a ‘goodnight’ peck and I thanked her for a great fun night (I had actually enjoyed what we’d done together it was so unlike anything we’d ever done before) as she patted my diapered bum and jokingly said I wasn’t to wet, but if I was going to, then at least I was dressed accordingly.
I laughed as I began to trundle to my room but she called me back and asked if I wasn’t forgetting somebody? Of course, Teddy. I picked him up, for such a huge animal he was incredibly light to carry, and we toddled off to bed. It felt strange having the thickness of the diaper between my legs but with Teddy by my side I wasn’t worried, I dreamily thought he’d protect me from whatever the darkness brought. He was my friend and oddly enough the diaper seemed to make everything feel as it should be. Maybe it was the memory of how comforting diapers had been after I lost Teddy the first time that made me not worry as to the way I was dressed.
We climbed on top of the sheets together and it was so nice sinking into bed with someone else, even if that someone was Teddy. He was warm and welcoming and it wasn’t long before, clutched in his paws (and him mine) we were dead to the world.
I woke up from a particularly heavy night’s sleep. I was slightly woozy but I was still clutching hold of Teddy, I smiled and thanked him for keeping me safe. I lay there for a few minutes enjoying the sensation of Teddy against my skin when I became aware of the thickness between my legs. I pulled back the thin piece of sheet partially covering us both and saw the towel hanging loosely around my hips. I was quite impressed that I’d been able to sleep with such an unusual thing wrapped around me but apparently, it had made no difference to how I slept. Then I suddenly wondered if I’d wet myself. I didn’t feel wet but… I slipped my hand across the front and thankfully that all felt dry, then, furtively, I slipped it down the front and checked around my dick.
“Dry”, I sighed with relief.
I got up, went to the bathroom and had a nice long shower. I could hear Gwyneth pottering around downstairs and was really pleased with the way we’d celebrated my birthday. As the shower grew warmer I was thinking it was a birthday I’d never forget and beamed enthusiastically at the thought of what we’d done. It had been madly childish but I now had a new Teddy and although
I was eighteen, I wasn’t going to let my parents or anyone else send him to the goodwill store.
Dressed in shorts and t-shirt I wandered downstairs. I had four days off until I was scheduled to go back into work so I was being comfortable and relaxed. The store uniform was a tight-fitting green polyester ensemble of trousers and a shirt; with my name and ‘CAN I HELP’ written across the left breast, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to wear but no one could pretend I wasn’t staff. Anyway, it was something I was always happy to ditch the moment I got home and slip into my favourite casual clothing, which is what I now wore as I wondered into the kitchen.
Gwyneth was making coffee, smiling and humming to herself. We exchanged the usual pleasantries but I detected a grin on her face, which meant she was up to something.
“What are you smiling about,” I enquired.
“Oh, nothing much except I did something last night I’m… er… surprised at the results.” She smiled but looked down as if she had a guilty secret.
“Yes, it was pretty strange wasn’t it… oh… and that reminds me… I’ve put the diaper in the bin. It’s not wet. Well it is but I… er… just dried myself on it.” I said quickly defending myself against any thoughts to the contrary she might have.
Her face brightened up.
“No seriously. I didn’t pee my diaper, honest. I just used what was nearby when I climbed out of the shower.” I stammered.
She could see I was getting slightly agitated over nothing but that smile was still there.
“I believe you,” she tried to calm me and put her hand over mine. “Anyway, I’m talking about something else.” And she flipped open the laptop that lay in front of her.
“See,” she pointed to a Facebook page that had an image of me as a one year-old and me as an eighteen year-old, side by side hugging teddies, with pacis in our mouth and wearing diapers.
She’d put the damn image from last night online. I was mortified. Not only that but as a joke she had swapped the caption underneath so it read “Benjy at 18” under the image of me at one year-old and “Benjy at 1” under the other.
“Take it down.”
She was still smiling.
“Please, Gwyneth, take it down before anyone sees it… I… I…”
“Too late for that I’m afraid.” The smile never left her face as she pointed to the fact that there were 207 Likes and 44 Comments… all of which Gwyneth assured me were positive.
I put my head in my hands and wondered what I should do. I’ve never been any good at getting angry and I don’t think I’ve ever lost my temper with Gwyneth so I was stumped for how I should really respond. All I could think about was the guys at work seeing it and them constantly referring to it. It was a good thing I had so few friends, I wasn’t on Facebook because of that, but she told me she’d set one up just for me. Also, she informed me that I was now ‘trending’, whatever that was, and the next time I looked the Facebook page had gone up to 297 Likes and 61 comments.
I sat quietly sipping my coffee but unable to eat anything at that moment. I had filled-up and I was desperately trying to hold back my emotions. I wondered what had possessed her to do such a thing but as she was sat typing away I thought perhaps it had helped her get past her writers block. She pressed the ‘enter’ key and sat back relieved as if she’d just completed an enormous task.
“Have you unblocked yourself,” I asked rather ineptly (and weepily).
She looked at me pondering what I meant, “Can you now write… have you got over not having a story or… whatever…?”
She smiled and said that she now had an idea but that it would need my help to see where it led. She was trying to cheer me up and dig me out of my ‘emotional’ state with a bit of enthusiasm.
She speculated that it might be a terrific change of style for her but needed my involvement and hoped I’d be up for it. I was still nursing my bruised and emotional ego; I didn’t really want 297… no it was now 314… people to think of me as a baby but I suppose it did no real harm. After all, I had so few friends to worry over and in fact, my parents and my sister were the only people I really had anything to do with. I liked the guys at work but… well… it was work; it wasn’t like we socialised much. Even school mates were few and far between, I only saw them when they were back from college or university or where ever.
“I’ve just uploaded a few more images of you from last night to the page…” she spun the screen for me to see, “and already people are clicking the ‘Like’ button.”
Although I was frustrated with her attitude my sister had furnished me with something else for my birthday, something I would never even have thought about, my own Facebook page. As I watched the screen I was amazed to see the number of Likes and Comments that kept appearing. She smiled at my stunned expression and suggested that I should read some of them.
I had no idea how to go about it but she pointed out how many Likes each image was receiving and clicked on a box that let me see the comments. Most were very positive: “Oooo look at the lickle babe”, “What a sweet innocent picture”, “Lovely idea”, “What a nice boy” and similar things. However, there were one or two more intense messages.
Gwyneth tapped the screen. “I think maybe later we should take a look at these suggestions and see where they lead.”
I shook my head and told her I didn’t think so but she begged me to reconsider as she thought it would make an interesting part to a new novel she was just beginning to envisage. This, she promised, would get her back on track as she could already feel her creative juices flowing. I still doubted the wisdom of getting involved but she told me that I would be credited at the front of the book for my ‘inspiration’. OK, she got me. How could I refuse my sister and such an opportunity to be recognised as someone who had given a successful author ‘inspiration’?
As I sat at her laptop reading the various messages she told me, as she slipped on her coat, collected her car keys and headed for the door, not to reply to any comment just yet. I just shrugged but I have to admit that my curiosity was aroused by just how many people, now standing at over 400 Likes and 83 Comments, felt the need to acknowledge my photographs. I know I was looking like a happy teenager playing with a huge teddy bear and wearing just a diaper but I couldn’t get over why that should create such attention.
“Where you going?” I eventually managed to break away from the screen.
“Just to get a few things from the store, I shouldn’t be long.” She smiled. “There’s plenty of juice in the fridge if you’d rather have that than coffee… and there are some English muffin’s if you want something to eat.”
“OK, see you soon.”
I did prefer juice and poured myself a lovely long cool glass of OJ before putting the muffins in the toaster. I grabbed the butter and strawberry jelly and sat at the laptop waiting for the toaster to do its job, the screen had gone blank and wasn’t sure whether I should touch it to try and get my pages back. I was curious to see how things had developed since I’d last looked. I waited until I’d finished my breakfast before I examined the screen again and hoped that by touching one of the keys I didn’t erase all of Gwyneth’s work.
A list of recently visited sites appeared and I was distracted to see that the latest one was YouTube. This was perhaps one of my favourite sites because of all the cute animal clips that seemed to occupy most of its content. I decided I’d like to see some playful kittens to cheer myself up and pressed on the key. It went straight to a clip of a big baby rolling around the floor with a huge teddy. Oh no, it was me. The clip started on my diaper pins and slowly pulled out to reveal, well, everything. To begin with my face was hidden by the big paci and it could have been anybody but as I played with Teddy and moved around the floor hugging and kissing him I became more and more identifiable.
My mouth went dry, it was if I’d never even drunk that OJ, and I stared at the screen mesmerised by my actions. There was absolutely no doubt I was having fun, diaper or not, and from the occasional looks to the camera you could tell I was in my element. As I watched my body went clammy and I could feel those emotions of mine rising to the surface.
As I happily played my diapered bottom appeared to be the main focus of attention – just what the hell was Gwyneth thinking? There were three different clips; two of me playing with Teddy and one of me sleeping with Teddy, which I didn’t even know she’d recorded. In fact, I didn’t know she’d recorded anything I thought she was just taking photos with her phone. There I was, happily snuggling Teddy with my arms wrapped around him, paci hanging slightly out of my mouth fast asleep and my white padded bottom looking quite prominent against the dark blue of my sheets.
I wondered why so many people had commented and noticed that the clips had, even after just such a short space of time, received more than 3200 hits. There was a link to the Facebook page but now I was dreading reading the comments as I was sure they would be calling me a perv… or worse. I filled up with tears and cried because I didn’t know what I could do, I thought such notoriety would make me a laughing stock in town, perhaps lose my job and I’d never be able to look people in the eye again.
My bottom lip was still trembling when Gwyneth arrived back home. I hadn’t moved from staring at the screen because I was simply mesmerised by the images. She could see I was disturbed and dropped the bundle of packages she was carrying and came over to comfort me. The sobbing became a full blown wail as I buried my head in her bosom and kept on asking her “Why?” I assumed she hadn’t done it to hurt me but I couldn’t figure out why she would do such a thing.
After a few minutes I calmed down and I looked at my sister through tear-stained eyes. She hugged me again and asked why I was crying. I was speechless that she could ask such a question so just pointed to the screen.
“Yes, it’s you…” she asked with concern, “but why are you crying?”
“What… what… what will…” I sniffed, “what will people think?”
She just shook her head slightly.
“They’ll think that there’s something wrong with me… they’ll think I’m…” I couldn’t finish my thoughts as I was overcome once again with a huge sob that gripped my throat and left me shaking my head in disbelief.
“Tell me,” Gwyneth was now all very serious, “aren’t those really tears of happiness?”
I looked at her in disbelief.
“You’re eighteen. Eighteen,” she emphasised, “and” she pointed at the screen, “that’s the first time I’ve seen you truly happy in many-a-year.”
There was no doubt about it those images were of me genuinely happy. When I was playing with Teddy I simply didn’t have another thought in my head apart from having a fun time with him.
But I wondered, what might others think of an eighteen year-old running around in a towel… that’s a diaper?
Gwyneth hugged me once more. “You, my sweet little Benjy, needed something. I wasn’t sure what to begin with but, and I’m sorry to say this to my little brother but, you needed a kick up the arse for you to start living.”
I was stunned at what she was saying.
“You are eighteen and just coasting through life. You have a miserable job…” I interrupted her and said that at least I had a job. “Yes you do, and I’m sure it’s fine in many ways but… I’ve never seen you actually happy for so long now. You seem to have few, if any, friends and mom and dad are no real help to encourage you…”
The enormity of what she was saying suddenly gripped me and I felt that huge sob I’d been holding back in the pit of my stomach come out with force. I hung onto Gwyneth as I wailed and wailed, not this time because I was worried about what others might think but because she was correct.
This story is written by Les Lea
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