Baby Dave

Part I

It was Friday, and I rushed to my bike after school. My parents were going to be gone for the weekend, and since I had just turned 13, I was being allowed to stay home alone—no babysitter!

I rode my bike past Rite-Aid, and on a whim stopped inside. After wandering the aisles for what seemed like an hour, I finally got up the nerve to accomplish my mission. I ducked into the “Incontinence” aisle and grabbed a bag of adult diapers. The diapers in my hand, I almost chickened out, but then realized that this may be my only chance for a long time to live this out. It was now or never.

The checkout girl was hot, my young body reacting to the sight of her supple breasts protruding just above her blouse. I nervously handed her my money, and when she gave me back my change, I dropped it. I was a nervous wreck. I thought to myself, “This isn’t worth it.”

I felt better about the transaction once it was over. I stashed the diapers in my book-bag and pedaled towards home, excited about what I thought my weekend held in store.

I let myself into the house, and went to the kitchen. After fixing myself my favorite—a peanut butter, jalapeno jelly, and fried egg sandwich (yes, I know, I’m the only person in the world that thinks they’re edible, let alone delicious), I sat down and turned on the TV.

I flipped through the channels, and couldn’t find anything good on. I went to my bedroom, and lifted up my floorboard. I had found my hiding place when I was six. We just moved into this house, and while cleaning my room one day, I investigated the creak that was in my floor.

I had used this place to hide my small personal belongings, baseball cards, magnifying glasses, and such. Recently I had started hiding a pacifier and some DVDs underneath my floor. I grabbed my “nuk-nuk” as I thought of it and a DVD at random. This one was a “Blue’s Clues.” I smiled—Blue’s Clues was my favorite.

Popping my nuk-nuk into my mouth, I stuck the DVD into the player, and while the pre-views were playing, stripped off my slacks and my underwear. Standing there naked, I studied the package of diapers, getting instructions on how to put it on.

Satisfied that I’d be able to diaper myself competently, I laid down on the floor. I opened the package. Slipping the diaper underneath my firm pre-adolescent buttocks, I pulled the top of it between my legs, and sealed the tapes. I stood up and waddled to the bathroom, admiring myself in the mirror. I couldn’t contain my smile. The day I dreamed about for so long finally came. I WAS OFFICALLY DIAPERED!

I went back to the living room, diaper crinkling and watched Blue’s Clues. I thought about the day these feelings were awakened, as Steve sang the “mail song.”

Part II

It was about two years ago that I found it in the basement. It looked like a crib, only bigger. It was behind piles of junk left by our house’s previous owners. My dad had planned on clearing it out when we moved in, and four years later, nothing in the basement had been touched.

Investigating further, I found that it had a top, I presumed to keep its occupant from getting out. I forgot about the crib for the rest of the day, just kept playing with my Matchbox cars and such. Later that night, I pretended that my bed was the crib. I stuck my thumb in my mouth; I pretended that I was a baby. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

The next day, while I was playing in the basement, I climbed into the crib. I was in heaven. I thought about being a baby. I sucked my thumb, I cooed, I pretended that my diaper was dirty and needed changing. I was ever mindful to keep an ear for my mom coming down the stairs, even at the tender age of ten; I knew that this behavior would be deemed as “not acceptable.”

I spent many an afternoon in the crib, and weekend mornings, basically whenever I didn’t have friends over, and I had time to spare, I’d be in the crib.

The lid on the crib intrigued me. I kept it open for most of the time I spent there, but one afternoon, I closed it. It made me feel helpless, it made me feel small, it made me feel more like a baby. I liked it. After further investigation, I saw two rings come together on the crib, one on the lid, the other on the crib itself. I deducted this to be for a pin or a lock, to help keep the crib’s occupant inside.

I bought a padlock, even though I knew the combination, I imagined that I was locked in the crib. I was getting bolder, if my mom came down the stairs into the basement, with the lock on there, I’d be caught for sure. There was no possible way I’d be able to open the lock and get out of the crib in time. Still, I spent my time locked in the crib, being a baby.

One day, while at Rite-Aid after school, I was buying my usual candy bar and soda. I took a trip down the baby aisle and grabbed a pacifier—a NUK size 3. I made my purchases and went home. That night, sucking on my nuk-nuk, I realized that I really needed diapers too. Diapers would make me a real baby.

I would spend my afternoons, in my crib (I began to think of it as “my crib” after about six months), hoping for a chance to wear diapers, dreaming of ways to get them and not be caught.

I thought about wetting the bed, but I didn’t want my parents involved, and besides, I wanted to have friends spend the night, and if I was a “bed wetter,” that would be embarrassing.

I couldn’t think of any good way to be able to wear diapers, either with or without my parent’s knowledge, so I pretended. I had my crib, and my nuk-nuk, so I was content. I still dreamed of being able to have diapers, and hoped beyond hope, but it never came to light. That is, it never came to light until last month.

PART III

My dad was offered a high paying position in the Eastern Division of his company. He took it, which meant we’d have to move as soon as school got out. That’s what my parents were doing this weekend; they were looking for a new house.

That’s what I was doing the weekend, my hopes; my dreams for a chance to wear diapers came true. My only regret was that I wouldn’t be able to use all my diapers. The ones I didn’t use by Sunday would have to be thrown away. This was the only thought to put a damper on my weekend.

Blue’s Clues was over, I got up to pee, then remembered; I was happily diapered. I sat back down and relaxed my bladder. At first it was hard--years of potty training had to be fought—but I was able to pee after a few moments. I smiled around my nuk-nuk. I was officially a baby. The second Blue’s Clues came on, and I sat, watching it, wearing my sodden diaper.

The phone rang. It was my best friend Bob. He asked if we could meet up. My parents had said that Bob could come over, if we followed the house rules. But letting Bob come would cut into my baby time. I wanted to be a baby from Friday afternoon until Sunday night. “No, Bob,” I lied, “my parents said I couldn’t have anyone over while they were gone, sorry.”

“That sucks dude!” Bob said, “By the way, is that Blue’s Clues you have on?”

I quickly thought of an excuse, “I was just flipping through when you called.”

“Oh,” Bob replied, “I didn’t know it was on this late in the afternoon.”

After getting Bob off the phone, I decided it was time for a diaper change. I went back to my room to grab a diaper, and came back to the living room.

After changing my very wet diaper, I folded it up and resealed it with the tapes. Then I deposited it in the kitchen trash. I was able to get my second diaper even snugger then the first. I smiled—I was getting good at this!

After Blues Clues was over, I decided to have dinner. While my Salisbury steak TV dinner was heating up, I began preparing my other baby stuff for the weekend. I drug my crib up into the living room. I wanted to spend most of my weekend in my crib, but wanted to watch TV and stuff like that. By the time I was done setting up the crib, the timer dinged. My food was ready.

Removing it from the oven, I crawled into my crib, and pretended that the cute girl from Rite-Aid was feeding me, that I was her baby. As my meal went on, she morphed into Bob. Bob told me how cute I was, Bob played airplane when he fed me. I laughed as pretend Bob accidentally spread food all over my face. After “Bob” had finished feeding me dinner, he wiped my face off with a damp wash rag.

By this time, I had to poop. I always pooped right after dinner, and this time was no different. Well, it was different in one regard—I wasn’t going to poop in the toilette. Sitting in my crib, I just couldn’t force out my poop. I tried laying on my side—no luck. Finally, an idea struck me. I went and sat on the toilette, still in my diaper. I relaxed my bowels. Warm poop slid into my diaper. I nearly did a dance! The smell was awful, but I decided to just sit in my poopy diaper for a while. After all, babies didn’t care if their diapers were messy.

On my way back to the living room, I went to my room, and grabbed my padlock. I crawled into my crib, shut the lid, and put the lock into place. I pushed play on the remote, put my nuk-nuk into my mouth and laid back in my poopy diaper, feeling the poop squish around between my butt-cheeks.