Stupid Baby Punk Club, Part 4 (Patreon)

Four: A Friend Indeed

The strangest thing about hanging out with Lara is that I can’t talk about diapers with her.

It’s a weird problem to have, but given that 90% of my socializing has been done with a group who talks about their adventures while wearing them, maybe it isn’t that surprising that I now feel like all conversations should revolve around diapers.

But I like Lara. I like hanging out with her. And I like that we don’t talk about diapers. I probably need that balance in my life–something to ground me in the world of ‘normal’ people.

It’s funny–funny to me, at least–that my roommate and I are finally connecting now. You’d think that a roommate would be one of the first people a new college student bonds with. Not only are we forced to live together, but we’re navigating the same new world at the same time. That seems like the perfect environment to build a solid friendship. And yet, up until this point, our relationship has seemed–at best–politely passive. It’s not until now, after I’ve talked with a group of strangers about diapers, that I feel myself finally able to open up to her.

“Do you like poutine?” Lara asked as we ate lunch. Neither of us were eating poutine.

“I think? That’s, like, french fries and gravy?”

“And cheese curds,” she added. “Very important. There was this place in Chicago, near my house, that made the best poutine. I wish the cafeteria made it, because I just miss it so bad. I don’t even care if it's bad poutine.”

So far, most of what I know about Lara is about her being from Chicago. And she fucking loves Chicago. It’s her favorite thing to talk about.

“I didn’t think poutine was a Chicago thing,” I said. “I assumed it was more Canadian?”

“Oh, it is. But there’s this one place…”

I let her ramble for a bit as I tuned out.

As it turned out, Lara needed a friend too. I think, like me, she had some sort of social circle on campus. She had mentioned a study group once or twice–though maybe those weren’t ‘friends’ so much as they were warm bodies she could commiserate with about school work.

I liked Lara. I liked having a friend. I liked the concept of a friend–one separated from the wild world of being humiliated in diapers.

“Oh, I meant to ask,” she said. “How was the concert?”

“The what?”

“The concert? You said you were going to a concert the other day?”

I could feel my phone vibrating inside my purse. I was pretty sure I knew who it was, and as badly as I wanted to check it, I knew it’d have to wait a little while.

“Oh right, right.” I had forgotten about that little fib I had used to get myself to the Stupid Baby meeting instead of hanging out with Lara. I tried to remember if I had given her any other information. Had I said what concert we were seeing? Who I was going with? Where the concert was going to be? “The show was good, thanks!”

No further questions, please.

“Do you see a lot of shows?” she asked.

“Oh, uhm, on campus? Just that one so far. But it’d be fun to see some more.”

“Okay good. I love live music. And it looks like there’s lots of shows coming up at the Common Center. What kind of music do you like?”

I’m torn between revealing just how nerdy my tastes are and picking a few trendy names out of a hat in an attempt to sound cooler than I am. But, I suppose, true friendships are born from accepting the true versions of each other.

“Mostly, like, folky stuff,” I said. “Just about anything with a banjo. And singer-songwriters. Jazz vocalists.”

“Hmm,” she said. “I don’t know much about that kind of stuff.”

“Oh.”

“But it sounds fun. You’ll have to play some of your favorites for me sometime.”

“Oh!” Some jubilation sneaks into my tone. I wondered what the odds were that I could convince someone else to like Jimbo Mathis. “What do you like?”

“I’m a basic little bitch,” Lara said, laughing. “I feel like I just listen to Maroon 5 and Coldplay all day.”

I felt a small pang when she described herself as a little bitch. I tried to imagine her wearing a diaper.

No, stop. Don’t do that.

“Hey, we like who we like,” I said.

“There’s this venue in Chicago that I loved seeing shows at. It’s called The Vic, have you heard of it?”

“Uh, no…”

“So I went there last summer with my friend Tracy and we saw…”

I slipped into autopilot easily enough, allowing myself to think about the thing that was taking up the most mental real estate–diapers, of course.

I still wasn’t over the last meeting of the Stupid Baby Story Club. Well, not so much the meeting itself as what came after–the wild, and diapered, adventure that Flo and I had gone on. Every once in a while, I’d recall a moment from that night, and it’d bring a smile to my face. Like, right now–as Lara was telling me about The Vic? I was thinking about Flo’s hands on my padded bottom as she told me to ‘let it all out.’

I haven’t told that story yet. I will. When I’m ready.

“That sounds like such a good time,” I said to Lara. I have no clue what she just said to me, but I can read the social cues and I could see that it was my turn to react. “I’m jealous!”

“You should come home with me sometime. You’d love it.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, looking at her watch. “I should probably get out of here and go to class. Are you going to be around tonight?”

Tonight was another meeting of the club–the part of the week I had been looking forward to the most. I needed another fib–though maybe nothing as extravagant as seeing a fictional concert.

“I actually have to meet up with some folks from my Sociology class for a project.”

“Oh, no worries,” she said, shrugging.

That was easy. I couldn’t believe I didn’t just go with that earlier.

We cleaned up the table and said our goodbyes, splitting in different directions after leaving the dining hall. I was finally able to take a look at my phone.

“I’m outside of Miller Hall right now. Do you think you can be here in the next 10 minutes?”

I quickly texted back as I began walking in that direction: “I can be there in 5.”

No, I couldn’t actually walk there in ten minutes. Miller Hall might as well have been off-campus with how far removed it was from everything else. But nobody had to know that I broke into a light jog for most of the way.

Of course, when I got to Miller Hall, I was out of breath and my armpits felt sweaty. That was a terrible idea–especially after eating a bowl of potato soup for lunch.

“You didn’t have to run here,” a voice behind me said.

“Hey, Flo. Sorry I…gasp…didn’t want to make you…gasp…wait.”

“We could’ve met later,” she said. “Or I could’ve just dropped it off at your dorm.”

“I know, I know, but sometimes my roommate is there and…gasp…I…”

Flo giggled and shook her head. “Goddamn, Sasha. Just take a breath.”

My cheeks glowed red as I took a beat to try and steady myself. It took a minute or two, but I felt like I was finally recovered enough.

“I know you like diapers, but I didn’t know you like them this much.”

“I…I just…” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Was I able to say that I liked diapers at this point?

“I’m just messing with you,” she said, reaching into her black backpack. “Here, I got you another diaper.”

I nervously glanced around the area, looking to make sure that nobody else heard what we were talking about–or could see the bright pink diaper she was pulling out of her bag.

“Don’t be so paranoid,” she said, laughing. “Nobody knows or cares.”

“All it takes is one curious set of eyes,” I said. “And then, BAM, I’m known as the diaper-girl for the next 4 years.”

“First of all, this isn’t high school,” Flo reminded me. “99% of the people here don’t know who you are and don’t care. You could run up to a stranger and kiss them on the lips and you’ll probably never see them again.”

“I’m not going to test that theory.”

“Second? You are a diaper-girl.”

“What? No, I just… I mean… It was one night. And one diaper and…”

“And what a diaper it was.”

“Just…give me that.” I swiped the thick padding from her hand and quickly stuffed it into my purse, taking another careful scan of the area for possible peepers.

Flo, of course, just giggled again. If I had given her another second of holding the diaper, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she waved it around in the air.

“You’re going to wear that to the meeting tonight, right?” she asked.

“You’re wearing one, right?”

She nodded. “I’m wearing one now too. I might just be wearing the same one later. I guess we’ll see how the afternoon goes.”

“Don’t show up, uhm, stinky,” I said. It felt a little awkward to say, but I was attempting some cutesy smack talk.

She laughed–a condescending chuckle that said: “Good try, kid.”

“I’ll see you tonight?” she said.

“Of course.”

Ideally, I’d have a good window of time between my classes and the meeting to go home and get into this new diaper. But I was pretty sure Lara would be around all afternoon and evening–all but confirmed when she asked earlier if I had any plans for the night. Which meant that the only real opportunity I had to put the diaper on–in the privacy of my dorm room–was…now.

I didn’t love the idea of this. It would mean that I’d have to spend the next six or seven hours in a diaper. I’d be wearing it to classes. Wearing it in broad daylight amongst other students. And while Flo seemed pretty nonchalant about it, I doubted I could do the same.

Fuck it.

Maybe this was a good opportunity for me. If I could survive the next few hours in a diaper–if I could somehow manage not to make a public spectacle of myself–maybe I could lose some of this paranoia.

Or, worst case scenario–I made a public spectacle of myself–maybe Flo was right: Only 1% of the students would ever know or care. Those odds didn’t seem too bad.

At 1:30 PM, I was back at my dorm room. Panties off and rolling around on the ground as I struggled to get the diaper to fit right. I’ll be the first to admit that it would probably have been a really funny thing to watch.

By 2:00, I was in a classroom, stressing over the fact that every time I made the slightest movement, I could hear my diaper crinkling under my skirt.

I don’t love skirts, by the way. I think I only brought one or two of them with me to college in the first place. At the time, I wondered why I brought any at all–but in hindsight, I can only assume that I knew I’d one day have the need to hide an embarrassingly thick diaper that wouldn’t fit in a pair of pants.

At some point, just before 3:00, I realized that I haven’t been to the bathroom since before lunch. My poor bladder wasn’t just aching–it was screaming. I wanted to ignore it so badly, hoping that with enough patience the feeling would subside and I could go a few more hours without needing to piss myself.

A little after 3:00, I gave up and wet my diaper. I was walking across campus, taking a slightly longer route with less students on it. My biggest fear was that I hadn’t done a good enough job of securing my diaper, and the weight of my heavy piss would make the thing just drop off of my body. I could just imagine that scene: me, walking along, when it looks like I suddenly give birth to a heavy diaper that drops out from the bottom of my skirt.

Actually, that’s kind of…tingly? But, no, I decided that I couldn’t think about that until later. Maybe never.

I don’t give birth to a soaked diaper. As best as I can tell, nobody sees my diaper or suspects that I’m wearing one. I somehow manage to drag my diaper all around campus for the next few hours without any leaks or soulcrushingly embarrassing reveals.

I do learn this: the longer you wear a wet diaper, the less comfortable it gets. Feeling the warm and dense padding against my skin did provide a few thrills for a bit, but both seemed to dissipate around the same time. Eventually it just started to feel clammy and heavy. Moist instead of wet.

By the time I’m meeting the rest of the Stupid Babies, I’m ready to ball this diaper up and throw it in the nearest trash can. I’ll go the rest of the night with all my bits hanging out under my skirt–it’s fine. This diaper has more than worn out its welcome.

“Hey you,” Flo said, sitting down next to me. “How’re…things?”

“Wet,” I said. “Uncomfortable.”

“Spoken like a true baby. You should speak up when Mama asks. I bet she’d change your diaper.”

“Shh,” I hissed, glancing at the others in the room–Neil and Chuck at that point.

“What’s this now?” Chuck asked. “Someone finally decided to wear a diaper?”

“Mind your biz,” Flo said, rolling her eyes.

“What, this is a big deal, isn’t it?” he continued. “C’mon, Sasha. Show us.”

“Fuck off,” Flo said.

“What do you think?” Neil asked me. “It can’t be too bad or else you wouldn’t have come back again.”

“It’s, uhm, good,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm. “I might have just spent way too much time in this one.”

“Welcome to the club,” he said, shrugging.

“She’s officially a member when she gets a diaper rash,” Chuck added.

“I swear to god, Chuck, I’m going to take off my own diaper and clobber you over the head with it.”

I could never get a good read on Flo and Chuck’s relationship. Were they friends? Rivals? Mortal enemies? Would-be lovers who just hadn’t realized it yet?

“Christ,” Chuck retorted, chuckling. “You’re going to make me hard if you keep saying things like that.”

“Alright, alright, keep it in your pants,” Drake said, entering the room with Mama close behind him.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Mama asked.

“Sasha’s wearing a diaper,” Chuck blurted out. “Sounds like it’s pretty wet too. Maybe you should change her before we start?”

“Really, Chuck?” hissed Flo.

All I could do was blush.

“Well. Sasha, I’m really proud of you for wearing a diaper,” Mama said to me. “And using it.”

The blushing intensified. She just radiates maternal energy, and I wanted so badly to make her proud of me.

“If you want some help getting changed, I’m happy to help,” she continued. “But you’re allowed to say no.”

“Maybe…not right now?” I said. “It’s all a little overwhelming at the moment.”

“Did you hear that?” Drake said to the room, though he was looking directly at Chuck. “How about we just get down to business and not make any more mention of Sasha’s diaper tonight unless she brings it up herself.”

Chuck rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Alright then,” Drake said. “Welcome back to the Stupid Baby Story Club. The theme for this round of stories is ‘It’s Personal,’ and I believe that tonight’s story will be brought to us by Neil. Neil? Are you ready to go?”

“Born ready,” Neil said, with a smile.

___

A Friend Indeed

The first punch broke my glasses in half. The second one had me doubled over in immense pain. There would’ve been a third if a group of strangers hadn’t held him back.

Pedro didn’t attack me because I was gay, which I say only because I’ve been hit plenty of times because I was gay. This guy was gay too–and that was the problem. Someone had made out with his boyfriend the night before and he found out.

He was right to have assumed it was me. Freddie and I had an amazing night together.

My biggest regret was that–if I was going to get punched anyway–I wouldn’t have left Freddie’s place when I did. As much as I enjoyed his company, it wasn’t sitting well with me that we both knew he was in a relationship already. But fuck that. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve taken Freddie up on his offer to fuck my ass all night long.

To this day, I don’t know how Pedro found out about us. It’s possible that Freddie himself told Pedro–though I doubt that. If Pedro was willing to wail on me like he did, I couldn’t begin to imagine what he would’ve done to Freddie. It didn’t help that I didn’t speak very much…Spanish? French? We were in Munich–but neither of them were German. Freddie knew just enough English for us to communicate our carnal desires. Pedro spoke in tongues that I had no comprehension of.

It’s not all that interesting of a story how I got to Munich in the first place. My brother, Matt, was in the midst of some sort of soul-discovering trip through Europe when he got sidelined in Munich for a while–having fallen in love with a pretty blonde local. I decided to take a quick jaunt over there as a way to both see him and to attempt to sow any remaining wild oats before another year of college started.

[“Actually, that’s kind of interesting,” I said.

“Agreed,” Mama added.]

I quickly learned what was keeping Matt in Munich. His new gal pal, Hanna, seemed to have an overflowing network of friends–and those friends seemed to be throwing parties on a nightly basis. And at the most recent of those parties, I met Freddie.

And now, in the morning after, I was meeting Freddie’s boyfriend as I attempted to get a cup of coffee from the cafe.

Which brings us back to me lying on the ground, holding my gut as my broken glasses remained out of reach. Pedro is being held back by a group of men. Maybe they know him, maybe they don’t–but they manage to tame the beast and send him on his way.

“Hi,” said a tall man with brown hair and round glasses. His hand was reached out towards me. I took it, and he helped me back up to my feet.

“Thank you,” I said. Truth be told, after the pain started to subside, the only real injury had been the one to my pride. I wished nobody else had seen me take two punches like that.

“American?”

I nodded. “I’m Neil.”

“Hello Neil. I’m Felix. You, eh, get beat up often?”

I hated that I fell in love with Felix almost immediately. He was as handsome as he was smart. And though I didn’t know a word of German, his accent when he spoke English slayed me. He had been one of the men who had held Pedro back, which also made him my hero.

We had a bit in common. He was also an artist, though his medium was set design for the local theater. He simultaneously seemed strong and gentle. Every movement he made felt meticulous and planned, though he looked like he could also effortlessly pick up an entire car and toss it if he so chose to. He escorted me to a small store where he bought some glue and then, in the cafe over a cup of coffee, I watched as he reassembled my glasses and held them tightly in place until the glue dried.

Seriously, how do you not fall for a man like that?

[“I think I’m in love with him,” Flo said.]

“What brings you to Munich?” he asked.

“My brother is living here, I guess.”

“You guess?” I found his amusement at my phrasing to be charming too. It felt like he was hyper-focused. He was studying me. And that didn’t seem weird–it felt nice for someone to be so interested in me. It was like he needed to know everything about me.

I gave him a quick rundown of the events that had brought me to Munich. He nodded and smiled the entire time, absorbing it all as his eyes remained fixed on mine.

His response to this story? “I’m gay too, you know.”

“Is that so?”

“How would you like to spend the afternoon with me?”

That time with Felix felt magical. He was an excellent tour guide and we walked for miles and miles that day, just talking and laughing as he showed me the sights of his neighborhood. He had a knack for making the most mundane things sound fascinating, and every street corner seemed to have a story.

Of the things I liked about Felix–and there were a great many–what I liked most was his bluntness. If he had a thought, he shared it. He rarely beat around the bush. That trait rubbed off on me, as I found it easy to let my guard down and be a little more direct in response.

“That’s a sex shop,” he said at one point, his finger directing me to a small shop. “They sell, eh, toys, you know? If you’re interested.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be spending money in a place like that. I’d have to bring my purchase back to Matt’s place. And then I’d have to get it through security at the airport when I go home. And besides…”

“Hmm?”

Here, in this city that might as well have been on the opposite side of the world from the place I called home, in the company of a man I barely knew, I felt like I could take a risk or two. And I wondered how he’d react if I revealed a secret about myself.

“I’m very particular about the kinds of toys I like.”

He liked that very much. He clapped his hands together and laughed. “Is that so? I like you, Neil. You’re a kinky boy, yes?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Tell me more,” he said. “I bet we could find something a little more, er, specialized for you.”

And I thought: Why the hell not? What was the worst case scenario? If he didn’t like my admission that I wanted to be swaddled in a diaper, we’d go our separate ways, I’d resume my time with Matt, and then I’d fly back to the states and never have to see Felix or Munich again.

“I like…diapers?”

He chuckled and his eyes grew large. “Ah. A big baby. I should’ve guessed.”

I felt my cheeks glowing a bright red. What was it about me that would make the idea of me liking diapers not sound very surprising?

[“You kind of look like a big baby,” Chuck said.

“Not a baby, per se,” I added. “Boyish, I think. It’s not a bad thing.”]

“You’re not upset about that?” I asked, taken aback by how nonchalant he seemed to be treating this revelation.

“Upset? Not at all. In fact, I may know a place you might want to see.”

“R-really? What sort of place?”

“I’ve never been there before, but I know where it is. Come. I’ll show you. I think you’re going to love it, Baby.”

The way that he just slipped in that ‘Baby?’ I was absolutely melted.

We zig and zag through the streets and I lose track of where we are in relation to the parts of the city I had been in before. There are even times when Felix seems a little lost, as he occasionally laughs and shrugs as we backtrack for a block and take a different route.

And then we find it. It’s a small basement-level shop beneath a seamstress. There’s just a simple wooden sign on the stairwell.

Das Weiche Haus.

I’ve only ever been to one brick and mortar diaper store in the states. It was a nice and clean place–and I thought the employees were very kind and friendly. But it felt very much like a…store. It was just shelves and shelves of packages. I know this is going to sound silly, but it felt too…practical. Like, it was just a place to go in, get what you wanted, and leave.

And, honestly, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. Not until I stepped into this shop in Munich, at least.

It’s a little hard to describe now, I think. The longer it's been, the more my memories are distorted. The shop felt so fantastical to me at the time that when I try to recall it now, the details I remember seem to be exaggerated just a little more.

The key takeaway was that it didn’t feel like a store. It wasn’t just an institution where one traded money for products. It felt…lived in. It felt like an actual nursery. Every square inch of the place seemed to have something to see. Cribs and furniture. Alcoves and wardrobes with pieces of clothing hanging in them. Little bins filled with toys and accessories. There were areas where I wasn’t even sure if things were for sale or not–it looked like it was just a place where one might take care of an overgrown baby.

There were diapers, but they weren’t always in the most obvious places. They were stashed in cubbies and small shelves in between bigger displays. It was almost as if they weren’t the primary focus of the store.

“How did you know about this place?” I asked.

He laughed and shrugged. “I know about a lot of strange places in Munich. Do you like the idea of eating a meal off of a woman’s foot? Because I know a place where we could do that too.”

“I think I’m good there…”

[“I think I’m kind of curious about that,” said Flo. “Please tell me you went to the foot place and there’s a story about that too.”

“I didn’t go to the foot place,” Neil said, shrugging. “Believe me, though, I kind of regret not going.”]

We were met by a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a round, kind, face and a sweet smile. She welcomed us before attempting to give a short tour of the shop–speaking in a fast-paced German that was leagues beyond my comprehension. At one point, Felix tried to explain to her that I only spoke English–though she seemed unable, or unwilling, to stray from her native tongue.

It was strange enough to be in a shop like this, and even stranger to hear Felix and the woman having a full conversation that I couldn’t understand a word of. Occasionally one of them would point to a product. Sometimes they’d laugh. Sometimes they’d just stop and look at me with big goofy grins on their faces.

“Have you, eh, dressed up before?” Felix finally asked me. “Like a baby?”

“W-well sure,” I said, a little caught off guard by the bluntness of the question.

“What do you like?”

I felt my cheeks warming again as I glanced around me at all the options. “You really want to know?”

“I do. Show me?”

I pointed to a package of disposable diapers. Buttz brand diapers–the kind I usually bought for myself.

[“Oh, I don’t like Buttz,” Drake said, shaking his head. “They just don’t have very good designs.”

“But they’re pretty absorbent,” Mama replied, shrugging. “Well, as far as I can tell.”]

Felix picked up the package of Buttz and showed them to the woman, speaking to her in German. She laughed and shook her head, sternly telling him something that made him put the package back on the shelf we found it.

“She says those are no good,” Felix said to me.

“Why does she sell them?”

He shrugged. “I think I’d trust her judgment though, wouldn’t you?”

“Okay, sure. So what does she recommend?”

He relayed that question–or a question, I wasn’t privy to the translation–to the woman. She nodded and began explaining something to Felix, her hands moving and twirling as she spoke. Felix nodded along, occasionally answering a question of his own.

“She says you should really try cloth,” Felix finally said, turning to talk to me.

“Cloth? I don’t know…that seems like a lot of work.”

“But it’s good for, er, nature, you know? A bigger baby with bigger diapers means more garbage.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“And she also thinks that she has a cloth diaper that you would look really cute in.”

“Oh? You’ve got my attention.”

“She also said something else that I found quite amusing.”

I laughed. “Okay?”

“She asked me if I was your Daddy.”

My entire face felt like it was melting off of my skull, it was so warm. “Wh-what did you say?”

He nodded. “I told her that I was.”

“But…”

“That sounds nice, doesn’t it?” Felix asked. “Go ahead, call me ‘Daddy.’”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling. “Go on, Baby. I want to hear it.”

“Uhm, okay,” I said, laughing and shaking my head. “Here goes nothing. Uh… Hi, Daddy.”

He gave me a satisfied nod. “I like it. You should call me Daddy from now on.”

Admittedly, I was quite fond of calling him that too. It would be pretty easy to follow through on that request. “If that’s what you’d like, Daddy.”

“Now then, Baby. Are you interested in the cloth diaper?”

“I think so.”

“She says you can try it on.”

“Here?”

“Of course,” he said, shrugging. “She said we can use that area right over there.”

He pointed to a little room that branched off from the main shop area. Through the pulled-open curtain at the room’s entrance, I could see an adult-sized changing table.

“We?” I asked.

“Babies don’t put their diapers on by themselves, right? It’ll be fun, right? Daddy will put his little Baby into a diaper.”

“Do you even know how to do that?” I asked.

He turned and said something to the woman in German. She laughed and nodded to him.

“She said she’d help me,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder towards the woman.

“So you’re both going to be in there with me?”

“It sounds like fun to me,” he said, shrugging. “I thought you’d like that.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course. Yes, I wanted this big strong man to put me on that changing table and put me into a diaper. I wanted this woman to hover over us, showing him how to better treat me like a baby. I wanted all of this to happen in the middle of a store that anyone could walk into at any moment. But wanting that was a lot different than allowing myself to let it happen.

“Don’t think about it too much,” he said to me, likely sensing my hesitation. “I promise it will be good.”

I needed to hear that. Not just the words–but the confidence in his tone. If he was willing, I figured, then I should be willing to.

“Okay, yeah,” I said, nodding. “Let’s go, uhm, Daddy.”

To my surprise, and delight, he picked me up. Like, literally wrapped his arms around me and effortlessly lifted me into the air, carrying me across the store and into the little room before depositing me on top of the changing table like I was a helpless infant. And, the thing is, I felt like a helpless infant. In that moment, as he manhandled me, I was willing to let him do anything in the entire world to me. If he decided to dress me up in a diaper and bonnet and then carry me through the streets of Munich like an infant, I would’ve been fine with that. Hell, I would’ve loved that.

He unfastened my pants and pulled them down the length of my legs, pulling them off along with my shoes and letting the adult garments tumble down to the ground.

The woman was suddenly there at the side of the changing table. I don’t even remember seeing her walk into the room–she just appeared there with a folded up bundle of cloth in her hands.

She handed it to Felix, seeming to explain something to him as she did.

“She’s very experienced in caring for big babies,” Felix said to me. “I think we’re in good hands here.”

“What is she saying?” I asked.

But before he could answer, the woman began speaking again, pointing to me as she did. Whatever she said had elicited a chuckle from Felix.

“Right now, she’s saying that you talk too much for a baby.”

“Oh…”

The woman handed Felix an object, which he then began to steer towards my face. It wasn’t until it was almost pressed against my lips that I realized what it was–a pacifier. I allowed him to shove it into my mouth, feeling my cheeks burn again as he did.

“Much better,” he said, nodding. “You’re just a baby, remember? Let us take care of you like one.”

This was all I really needed to hear. I laid back, suckled on the dummy like it was the most natural thing in the world, and let them do whatever they wanted.

I didn’t need to speak the language to get the jist of the conversations between the woman and Felix. She was walking him through the process, step by step. She said something, and he unfolded the cloth diaper between my legs. She said something else and he lifted my legs high into the air, lifting my ass from the changing table like I was a ragdoll. So on and so forth.

My erect cock seemed to be a point of contention. I couldn’t understand the words, but I felt like I could read the tones well enough. Was it to be ignored, or should something be done about it? I’m not sure who won that argument, all I knew was that Felix was suddenly lowering his face between my legs, swallowing the entirety of my manhood in his mouth.

Now, I don’t want to generalize–I’m sure there’s plenty of men out there who know what to do when there’s a cock in their mouth. But I’ve just never had a great experience with a man sucking me off before. It’s usually a mediocre experience, at best.

[“You should ask Chuck for a blowjob sometime,” Flo said. “According to his story, he’s got some talent.”

“Sounds to me like someone’s afraid I suck cock better than they do,” Chuck retorted.]

Felix changed that. In an instant, he would set the bar for every oral experience I’d have for, likely, the rest of my life. He just knew exactly what to do with his lips. His tongue. Suction. The movement of his head. I’m lucky enough, at this point in my life, to have had some pretty good experiences, sexually. But I can tell you right now, with 100% certainty, that nothing has, or likely ever will, have felt as good as Felix’s mouth on me as I lay on that changing table, with some nice German woman holding my hand.

I exploded into his mouth. He swallowed every drop, licking his lips when he was done. And then, without missing a beat, he went right back to talking to the woman in German. They just laughed and conversed like they were old friends while I quivered and reeled on the table for another moment.

This seemed to have accomplished exactly what they wanted, and within a few minutes, my exhausted cock had shriveled just enough that the woman could continue with her lessons on how to properly diaper a big baby. I was coated with a fine layer of baby powder before the thick cloth garment was pulled up through my legs.

“She says that these are an ‘all-on-one’ cloth diaper,” he said to me, translating something she must have said to him. “If you have any accidents, this diaper should be able to hold them.”

The woman said something else to him.

“Though, she says you should probably wear a pair of plastic pants anyway. Not because you need them, but because she thinks you’d look cuter with some. I think I’d agree with that.”

I had no response. Suckling my pacifier, I was in a state of bliss that I had never experienced before. And, truthfully, have yet to experience again.

“You’d make an, eh, accident in your diaper for me, yes?” he asked. Goddamn, I loved his bluntness so much. “I’d like it if you did.”

All I could do was look up at him. I tried to ask, telepathically: “Are you sure?”

“It’s what babies do, yes?” he said, either answering my mental inquiry, or just knowing exactly what he needed to say. “I think you should. I’d like it if you made your diaper wet for me. Or, if you made your diaper stinky.”

The German woman laughed and said something to him, waving her hand in front of her face–the universal symbol for ‘stinky.’ This certainly suggested that she understood enough English.

“She says you probably make very smelly diapers,” he translated. “I think I’ll trust her judgment. She seems very wise, don’t you think?”

I nodded.

I’ve never worn plastic pants before. They were somehow louder than any disposable I had ever worn. The fit, of both the plastic pants and the cloth padding, was different enough that it felt like wearing diapers for the first time all over again. It was an exciting feeling to experience with Felix.

He dressed me, putting my legs back into my pants and pulling them back up my legs and over the bulk of the new diaper. He even helped put my shoes back on for me. Just having someone else do these little things for me made me feel smaller than I had since I was an actual child. You think that you grow out of those feelings–like you reach a point in your life where you can’t feel like that anymore. But Felix brought them all back to the surface, from whatever deep depths of my consciousness they had been in all this time. I felt small. Childish. Helpless. I needed him to take care of me.

I did not see him and the German woman exchange money. I’m not saying it didn’t happen–but I also never saw a transaction of any sort either. He had dressed me again, helped me off the table, and suddenly we were outside and walking down the street.

“I have to say,” Felix said. “I’m enjoying the idea of being your Daddy. And do you know how I can tell that you like being my baby?”

“Hm?”

“Because,” he said, flashing the biggest smile I had ever seen on his face. “You’re still sucking on that, er, pacifier like a baby.”

I quickly spat the pacifier into my hand, stuffing it into my pocket as he laughed. I looked around us, seeing a few other pedestrians in our vicinity. It was impossible to say who had seen me walking around like that–or how many.

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“You should have left it in,” he said. “It completes the look.”

“Can you, uhm, tell that I’m wearing a diaper?”

“I think,” he said, nodding. “But I also know that it’s there. But you shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Baby, you’re very far from home, yes? You could walk down the street in just your diaper if you wanted to. You’ll never see any of these people again. Here, watch this.”

There was no time for me to ask about what he was doing, he just veered away from me and approached a young woman, emerging from a coffee shop with a steaming cup in her hand. He said something to her in German, pointing at me. She laughed, shrugged, and then said something back to him and then went on her way.

“See?” he said, returning to my side. “There’s at least one person who knows you wear diapers. And you’ll never see her again.”

“You could’ve said anything to her,” I said, laughing. “How do I know you told her about my diapers?”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s try again.”

“No, wait…”

He approached two young men hanging out in front of another shop–they looked to be about my age.

“Hey,” Felix said to them in English. “Do you see my friend there?”

One of the young men looked at me and nodded.

“Yes, well, he has a diaper fetish. Like…he gets off on wearing them, you know? He’s wearing a diaper right now, actually.”

One of the men laughed, shaking his head. The other narrowed his eyes. “And why do you think we’d care?”

“I’m trying to prove a point, really. See, he’s not from around here. I’m telling him that he can make a fool of himself here and it won’t matter because he’ll never see anyone from this city again.”

“Where’s he from?” asked the one who laughed. “Britain?”

“No, the United States.”

They both laughed now. One of them pointed at me and beckoned for me to come closer.

“Y-yeah?”

“Is that true, American?” he asked. “You like windeln?”

“Well, uhm…”

They seemed done with the conversation, laughing and shaking their heads. Felix put a gentle hand on my shoulder and escorted me back to the center of the sidewalk so that we could continue on our way.

“Wasn’t that fun?” he asked.

My heart was beating way too fast. “I guess…”

Crrnch, crrnch, crrnch. I could hear the plastic pants crinkling inside my pants with every step.

“Can I ask you something, Felix?”

“Daddy,” he corrected.

“Can I ask you something, Daddy?”

“Of course, Baby.”

“Why did you first approach me after seeing me get hit?”

“I actually saw you before you were hit,” he said. “I thought you were attractive. I was, eh, debating if I should introduce myself or not.”

“Oh. And then after I got hit?”

“Well, then you looked both attractive and like you could use a friend. And what is that saying? ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed?’”

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?”

“Today. For everything. I’m never going to forget it.”

“The day isn’t over yet,” he said. “Do you have anywhere else you need to be?”

At some point I’d need to check in with Matt and let him know that I was still alive–especially if word got back to him or Hanna that I had been punched by Pedro. But that was easy enough.

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re wrong, Baby,” he said, smiling. “You do have a place to be.”

“Hmm?”

“My lap. Let’s go back to my place.”

___

There was a minute or so of silence. It seemed like we all thought–or at least hoped–that there’d be more to the story.

“What happened after that?” Drake finally asked, being the first to break the silence.

“Oh…that was the story,” Neil said, shrugging.

“Why would you end it there?” asked Flo.

“Well, that was the story. I wanted to tell you about how I met Felix in Munich. And how he introduced me to a wonderful day of feeling…free.”

“Yeah,” Flo said. “But what happened after that?”

Neil blushed a little. “I mean…I suppose I could write another story about that sometime…”

“Yes,” I said. “Please?”

As seemed to be a common theme during these meetings, the story had left me feeling a bit wet between the legs. And, as best as I could tell, it wasn’t just the clammy wetness that was already trapped in the padding.

“Do you still have that diaper?” Mama asked. “The one Felix got for you?”

Neil nodded, a wistful smile on his face. “I don’t use it much…I suppose I’m afraid that I’ll wear it out and then it’ll be gone. But once in a while I take it out of storage. Like, for tonight.”

“That’s so sweet,” Mama cooed.

“Show us,” said Flo.

“C’mon, Flo,” Drake warned. “Let’s not make anyone feel uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay,” Neil said, standing up. “I think that’s actually a fair request. In the spirit of my story–finding a space where you’re comfortable to open up, you know? And this is probably the safest space I know of. So…how about it? I’ll show you my diaper if the rest of you show me yours?”

“I’m in,” Drake said, nodding.

“Well…I don’t really wear diapers,” Mama said, shrugging. “But, I can show off my panties in solidarity.”

“I’m in too,” Flo said.

“I didn’t wear a diaper,” Chuck said. “But I’ll pull my pants down if it makes you happy.”

“I’ll join you,” I said.

Everyone stopped to stare at me, eyes wide and excited.

“Are you sure?” asked Neil. “Because you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” I said, nodding. “You’ve all been so great for allowing me to be a part of this group and…well, if the group wants to show off their diapers, I’ll show mine off too.”

And so it was settled. We all stood up and attempted to simultaneously show off what was under our clothing. I probably acted a little sooner than everyone else, quickly hoisting the hem of my skirt into the air while others were still fumbling with their pants. My completely soaked diaper hung between my legs pathetically, swaying back and forth.

Mama was next, her pretty pink panties with lace accents looking as sweet as she was.

Then Neil, showing off his thick cloth diapers. No plastic pants–but these did look as cute as his story suggested they might.

Chuck showed off his black boxers, the front tented out from an obvious erection. He was doing his best to put on a brave and cocky face, but I could see the faint shade of pink in his cheeks that suggested he was showing off more than he intended to.

Then Drake in a clean white diaper. His looked the most well applied–I suspected Mama had a hand in that.

Finally Flo, in her pink diaper that looked to at least be a little damp.

“That was actually kind of nice,” Drake said, pulling his pants up again. “Maybe we should do this more often.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chuck said. “I saw Flo trying to take a picture of my dong.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Flo replied, rolling her eyes. “Does anyone else think it’s interesting that Chuck is rock-hard after hearing Neil’s story about gay romance?”

“Wh-what?” Chuck stammered, tripping over his words. “That’s so stupid. No. I just…Like, c’mon, we’re all standing around in panties and diapers and you expect me to be soft?”

There were a few stifled giggles from around the room.

“I’m done with you babies for tonight,” he spat. “I’m going home. See you next week.”

Neil was the next to go, citing some studying he needed to catch up on for the next day. Drake seemed ready to leave soon after, though he was waiting for Mama.

“Actually, I might hang back for a minute,” she said. “But I’ll catch up with you later?”

And then there were just the three of us left–myself, Flo, and Mama.

“So, Sasha…” Mama said, clearly trying her hardest to make me feel uncomfortable. “About that diaper?”

“Yeah?”

“That looked well past its prime. How long have you been in that?”

“Well…since, uhm, Flo gave it to me, and…”

“Sasha,” Flo said, giggling a little. “That was hours ago.”

“You’re going to get a rash,” Mama said. “You need to get out of that thing.”

“I know but…I don’t have anything to change into and…”

“I always carry an extra or two,” Flo said. “I’ve got you covered.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” asked Mama. “I know it sounds like it’s going to be really awkward, but I promise it won’t be that bad.”

“And what was it that Felix said?” asked Flo. “‘A friend in need is a friend indeed?’”

I sighed. “I just…I feel like I’d be asking for way too much.”

“We want to help you,” Mama said. “If you’d just let us.”

“Yeah,” Flo said. “Please? Can we help you change your diaper?”

Almost every part of myself wanted to say no–except for the one tiny little voice that was saying “If you say no now, you’re going to regret it later.” And I chose to listen to that little voice, even though I wasn’t sure that it was coming from my brightest brain cell.

“Alright,” I said. “Let’s…do this.”