The Un-training of Stanley Kaminski – Chapter Two
Nothing is ever as it seems, and it certainly wasn’t for Stanley, for under that plain wrapper of dark suits, or khaki shorts, white shirts and tie, or t-shirts, was someone entirely different. For his entire life, he successfully kept his exterior persona intact, a quiet facade which he shared with the world, but it was not at all what lay hidden beneath. Concealed was something that had only been discovered by his mother when he was a teenager, and it brought him misery and embarrassment, enough so, that he tried all the harder to not expose his real self, his hidden desires to anyone; not even to his wife Maureen. She chose success over having children, and though he would have liked to have had a family, Maureen wore the pants in the family. In fact, she wore the pants for both of them without even realizing it. If she had not been afraid of spiders, if she had ventured down into her husband’s retreat, she would have had the shock of her life. She would have discovered that her quiet, soft spoken husband preferred something over pants. He preferred diapers.
The basement was divided into a larger and smaller section, the latter being partitioned by a wall, and that smaller annex containing the hot water heater, the furnace and the air conditioning unit, but it also contained something else. Whereas the main part of the basement stored the many boxes and junk which couples collect, along with Stanley’s shop tools, the other smaller room was home to his wooden creations. He had told his wife that the furnace room was home to many spiders as they liked the warmth and dark. He felt he was safe when he put a pad lock on the door, again explaining he wanted to protect Maureen.
Maureen worked as a rep for a pharmaceutical company, and she had to travel to doctor’s offices as well as the occasional hospitals and clinics. Sometimes she would stay overnight if she had an early morning commitment in a nearby town. But she also had to do endless reports, and take the occasional on-line test to keep her certification up to date. This sometimes created some tension as there was the one computer in the family room. She couldn’t imagine why her husband spent so much time on it. His dead end job certainly didn’t demand it. When he came home at night, he was through for the evening. Not her, however, and one eventful night would change her life forever; would change both of their lives in ways that neither could ever imagine.
She had arrived late and she still had to make dinner. She was annoyed when she found her husband on the computer.
“Did you think to make us anything to eat,” she yelled. He sheepishly replied no, and she was beginning to regret her marriage more and more. Working with doctors and other successful people was giving her ideas, such as leaving.
“Well, you’re going to have to help me. I can’t do everything in this house,” and to some extent, she was right. She did the vacuuming and the laundry, though Stanley always helped with the clothes, the washer and dryer being in the larger part of the basement. She had asked about the lock on the door, and he told her it was to keep the spiders from getting out. She of course began to have her doubts. What was behind that door?
She asked her husband to cut up some onions, and he begrudgingly obliged, first looking in the kitchen drawer for his apron, which to Maureen, looked more like a bib, as the apron was somewhat small. Stanley didn’t seem to mind at all, nor the childish print that adorned it. As he cut the onion, tears started to roll down his cheeks, and even though it was from the onions, Maureen had to laugh at his childish demeanor. Ideas raced through her head as she was angry at him, but she quickly put them aside. She had to make her weekly report, and she simply was in no mood.
Dinner was unusually quiet, with Stanley picking at his food, eating like a fussy child. Maureen asked him to clean up as she had to work. She was not expecting any reaction from her soft spoken husband, so when he complained, she became even more annoyed.
“Unless you can do my report, the least you can do is clean up this mess,” is what she barked, turning on her heel.
The computer came alive with the first movement of the mouse, and the background shone brightly, Medco Pharmaceuticals, along with the many applications and program shortcuts. Maureen was quite competent with technology as she had bought the computer and set it up. Her lazy husband simply enjoyed the fruits of her labor, and as she moved to click on the report app, she noticed a blinking minimized window on the lower tool bar.
“That’s odd,” she thought, and she clicked on it.
She clicked on it, it filling the screen,……it coming to life in all its Stanley Kaminski glory, IT filling the screen with a picture,……IT shocking any sensible thought she ever had about her husband, because it was a young man, standing in a bedroom, and wearing nothing but a diaper, the domain announcing it was Dillydideediapers.com., and it had a home page and forums. Maureen couldn’t believe what she was seeing, though she wasn’t a naive internet traveler either. There was a forum for diapers, for baby apparel, for acting like a baby, and even a baby mommy/daddy dating service. She saw that there was a place for members to log on to, and she tried typing in BabyStanley, just out of curiosity, and she wasn’t really surprised when the entire site opened up to her.
“You never had an original thought in that stupid brain of yours, did you,” she said to herself, becoming more annoyed.
She saw a blinking green bar at the top of the page, and it appeared that BabyStanley had a message. She clicked on it, opening a new screen.
Hi BabyStanley. How’s my little baby? Has he wet his diapers? LOL…
Just got my new shipment of M4’s and can’t wait to play baby tonight.
Maybe we can chat later when your battleaxe goes to sleep. Your diaper baby buddy.
“What the hell has this idiot gotten himself into,” and as she fumed, she x’d out and clicked on “Options” and then, “History”.
“Oh baby hasn’t been very good at erasing his history,” she thought to herself, and clicked on one site after another.
Up popped various diaper sites for adults, adults wearing diapers and adults talking about diapers. Then she saw a pharmaceutical store and she recognized it at once. They were an on-line provider of incontinence supplies as well as prescription medicines for incontinence. She found “your order history” and was immediately treated to yet another surprise, for there was a lengthy order for several different brands of disposable diapers, as well as cloth and plastic pants.
“What else can I find, you little weasel,” and she looked further down the all telling history. Her eyes fell on one more site, one site to make the other sites look small and insignificant by comparison, for there, staring at her was, “Big Baby Clothes for Little Babies at Heart”, Her mouse glided across the mouse pad which proudly proclaimed Medco Pharmaceuticals, just as the pointer proudly glided and clicked on Big Baby Clothes, opening up a world from another universe, a world of grown adults dressed in onsies, baby pants and shortalls, all bulging from the diapers which nestled beneath the soft cotton, snaps and cute baby prints. There were grown male models wearing little girl dresses, and diapers with pink plastic panties showing beneath the ruffles of the dress. Maureen had seen enough.
She had to finish her report, working into the night, and as she filled in her sales account, she became angrier and angrier. She was slowly coming to a decision, and more than a decision. A plan of revenge was beginning to formulate in her head. She knew she was going to have to investigate this adult baby thing, and then she wondered what her husband was doing night after night, weekends all spent in the basement. She was committed now, anger slowly becoming rage. She felt betrayed, her time and energy spent on earning a good living through hard work while her husband was more than content to work his dead end job just so he could have a lot of spare time. She was barraged by so many thoughts, and a larger, more obvious one came into her mind. What was that man doing when she was gone over night? She thought she knew, and it made her all the madder.
She typed in the last entry and clicked off the Medco Pharmaceutical site, done for the night, but as she stared at the computer, she thought, no, not done. She walked back to the kitchen. She would confront that no good husband of hers, confront him and ask him, point blank, how he liked being a baby. Yes, she couldn’t wait to see his stupid expression when she hit him with that bomb shell, but Stanley wasn’t in the kitchen. He had finished, and Maureen knew where he was. The basement. She opened the door and yelled down to her husband.
“Stanley! Will you come up please,” but there was no answer.
“Stanley?” she asked again, and there was only silence. She would have to go downstairs, down into the basement where the spiders lived.
She hesitated for a moment, but her anger was finding a permanent resting place in herself, anger overcoming fear, and she took the first step downward, one step followed by the next until she could see into the expanse of concrete and boxes, saws and planer, and yet, no Stanley.
“Could he have gone out?” she thought, and she took two more steps, coming to the bottom of the concrete floor. Stanley had told her how spiders love cement and concrete; cold, moist concrete. Perfect for breeding, he had said. It suddenly made her all the more angry. Hesitantly she took several steps, willing herself to overcome her fear, pushing herself to the locked door, only this time it wasn’t locked. It was slightly ajar and from behind the door shone a dim light.
“Stanley,” she yelled and she could hear some scuffling.
“Maureen,” she heard from behind the door,” you mustn’t come in here. I’m a…fumigating. I saw a lot of spiders,” was what her husband said, and she could hear in his voice, panic.
“What are you doing?” she persisted, and she took two more steps toward the door.
“Don’t come in,” came the answer. “I’ve discovered a whole nest of spiders, a mother and her babies,” and as her husband continued with this nonsense, she could hear the sound of a zipper.
“So this is his game,” she thought, and it came to her that two could play at this. She knew she had to see what was behind the closed door, the door which had remained locked for their entire marriage.
“Oh Stanley,” she said, now softening her voice. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but we need milk for breakfast. Could you be a dear and run out to the store?”
There was a long pause and then she thought she heard her husband sigh. She quietly laughed to herself.
“I guess if we absolutely need it,” came the answer, and she felt a wave of excitement as she replied, “Oh yes honey. I hope it won’t be too much of an inconvenience,” and the word inconvenience got stuck in her throat, like she was about to choke on it. She would have liked to choke him for all the times he had inconvenienced her when she did all the work in the house, and he was down in his basement, killing spiders and playing with his tools, and then her thoughts stopped. What was he building? She never saw anything come up from the basement. Wood, paint and varnish went downstairs. Where did it go? Her body spasmed in what she almost thought was some sort of sexual climax, the mystery of the locked room soon to be revealed.
She walked up the stairs, the high heels of her shoes making its predictable noise, but once back in the kitchen, she slipped the shoes she wore to work, off, and quietly descended once again, trying to not be noticed. She heard her husband push the lock shut, as this she knew he would do, but there had to be a key, and she would need that if she was to ever know what lie on the other side of the portal. She saw her husband approach his workbench, or rather; she saw part of him, as he was partially obscured by the overhang of the ceiling. She was frustrated that she couldn’t take two more steps down, but then her husband would have been able to see her. She could see his hand reach over the workbench, reach out to something, and she heard the lid of a box open and close. This gave her some satisfaction, her husband having given away something very private. She hurriedly walked up to the landing and into the kitchen, less her husband suspect anything was wrong. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow.
“Are you all right?” Stanley asked.
She had to get a hold of herself, she thought. Mustn’t show that anything’s wrong.
“Oh yes,” she replied. “I’m just tired, that’s all,” and she wasn’t lying about that. She was tired, both from her job and of her husband, but suddenly she felt invigorated, like she had just come alive. She was nervous, and she fidgeted while her husband looked for the car keys.
“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” Again her husband asked her, and now she was beginning to fear that she might be giving herself away. Did he suspect, she wondered?
Finally he left, and Maureen waited to hear the car door open and close. She waited, listening for the engine to start, and for the tell tale sign of the car vanishing into the night, the sound of motor and tires disappearing into the dark road, its destination the store, and Maureen’s, the basement. The excitement made her fidget, the anticipation, and she realized she had to pee. That can wait, she thought, and pushing the need aside, she went over to the door and turned on the light. The stairs and basement were illuminated by the one bulb. It cast a dim glow into the main part of the cellar, the safe part where stood the big table saw and other wood working tools, along with the washer and dryer at the other end. Maureen carefully took two steps downward, and two more, looking on the side walls and the ceiling, and even though she now knew that her husband must have been lying about the spiders, one could never be too careful.
She got to the bottom and put her right foot down onto the concrete. This was the first time she had been down into the basement without her husband. For a brief moment, she imagined a movie she had seen with her husband on Syfy. He liked to watch those stupid shows, though she couldn’t imagine why. Now, she wondered if he had deliberately turned on to a particular show, had deliberately tried to scare her as the movie was “Spider Island”. What kind of web had he been constructing all these years, she wondered?
She cautiously approached the work bench, her husband’s domain. She wasn’t surprised to find it a mess, tools carelessly thrown about, cans of varnish and paint, along with a big bottle of wood glue. Nestled among the debris, along the back was a metal box, and a strip of masking tape was on the lid, an inky message written upon it. It read, “Caution….Spider Eggs.”
How ridiculous she thought, but as she reached for it, she hesitated. What if her husband was telling the truth? What if his computer history was some big mistake, and what if he did spend his time killing spiders, because,” and here she paused a moment. She searched her mind for the worst possibilities.
“What if there was an uncontrolled spider infestation in the house?”
Ridiculous, she thought, and she reached for the box. She hesitated for a moment, looked all around it, and then picked it up. There were no spiders, and she let out a sigh of relief. Carefully she opened the lid, ever so slowly, ready to slam it should there be hatching spiders, but there was only one thing inside, one small shiny object, and that was a key.
“Gotcha’ she said,” and taking the key, turned and walked to the door with the lock. She paused for a moment, contemplating, savoring the anticipation, and then, put the key in the pad lock and turned. Click, and it opened. Her heart was pounding as she removed the steel keeper of secrets and slowly opened the door. Its hinges screeched just a little; nothing especially loud, but it seemed very loud in the quiet of the house, just Maureen and the door, the door and the room she had never entered, until now.
Carefully, she reached her hand around the door frame and felt for a light switch.
“Where is it,” she thought, and then, there it was, cold reality. She opened the door wider and pushed the switch up, and with a click came more than just light. With the snap of the switch came revelation, for there in full view were the missing parts to the puzzle, wood, screws, paint and varnish, now all neatly cut and assembled, creating something entirely new and unexpected. In the far corner of the room was the hot water heater and the furnace, just like her husband had said, but there was more, oh so much more, because the furnace room looked like a small child’s nursery. In fact, it looked like a baby nursery, the cement walls adorned with baby animal pictures, all carefully hung. There was a little nursery rhyme print carpet on the floor, and the smell of baby powder hung in the air. But that wasn’t what caught Maureen’s attention. The room was filled with furniture, the product of her husband’s labor, but not just any furniture. In the center, toward the back was a very large crib, large enough to hold an adult. There was a night stand next to the crib, with a baby motif clown lamp, and to the one side of the crib was a beautifully made chest of drawers, painted white, like the crib, and on the left, a changing table, painted white with stained and varnished trim. The furniture was actually quite beautiful, and looked like a craftsman had made them. The images of baby animals had been hand painted on the sides of the furniture, and Maureen marveled at how well rendered they were. For a moment she forgot her anger. She had walked into another world, a world that was foreign to the one she knew and understood. This world was completely alien.
Maureen walked further into the room, touching the furniture. She looked into the crib and couldn’t help but notice the animal prints on the white sheets, and then she noticed something else. The mattress sheet was stained yellow, and as she looked closer, the smell of pee assaulted her.
“Oh for God’s sake, Stanley!” She was startled to hear her own voice, shattering the silence and sanctity of the nursery.
“What else do you have down here,” she now thought quietly.
She pushed on, walked behind the furniture and saw the stacks and stacks of boxes, boxes marked with the nondescript logo from the medical supply store. She nudged the lid on one which had been opened and inside were diapers, dozens of white disposable diapers with a cute baby print. She took one out and held it up, assuring herself and her suspicions when it was obvious that it was large enough to fit an adult, one just like her husband.
“You bastard,” she said to herself and then, “no. You little baby. You are a little baby aren’t you,” and she marveled at this idea.
She thought she had seen everything, everything and anything imaginable, but there was one more piece of furniture, white with wood varnished trim. It stood about four feet tall and had a little cabinet compartment on the bottom, and CD’s/DVD’s on the top. She opened the cabinet door and saw a CD player and an Ipod. Her eyes drifted to the CD wracks and she pulled one of the cases out and read the title.
“Regression Hypnosis Series, Volume One” it said. She turned it over and read the back, read something that startled her, and something which would change both her husband’s and her life forever.
“Learn to become a bed wetter while diapered. Use key command words and you will wet the bed while you sleep just like a little baby.”
“She picked up the next case and read it.
“Learn to lose all control, wetting and pooping your diapers while you sleep. Be the little baby you always wanted to be.
The next one proudly proclaimed, “Coded key words will turn you into a completely incontinent baby, wetting and pooping both day and night, under all circumstances. They went on and on, one turning the user into a bigger baby than the next. Her curiosity peeking, Maureen opened the cabinet door and took out the Ipod. How much of this had her husband been listening to, she wondered. The first track opened to a soft and melodic female voice.
“Everything is all right, baby. You are a little baby. You are my little baby. Your eyes are heavy,” and as the voice went on, soft music played in the background. It sounded familiar to Maureen, like music she had heard when she was very little.
“When you hear the words ‘baby wet-wet’, you will relax, relax all you muscles and just let go.
The music played a soft nursery song, a small music box tinkling an old nursery rhyme song.
“Just relax and wet your diaper. You are a little baby and all is safe. Mommy is here baby. Just let go…..
Suddenly Maureen was jolted from where ever it was she had drifted to, jolted by the hot pee which was running down her leg.
“Damn it Stanley, I’ll get you for this,” and she was just about ready to run upstairs and change when something caught her eye. It was the last CD in the rack, the one she hadn’t yet looked at, as if something about it had kept her from reaching for it, and now she knew why, for on its cover was the picture of a big, hairy spider. She forced herself to pick it out of the rack; forced herself to turn it over and read the back. It was another hypnosis recording, but this one was very different. This one said gag hypnosis.
“Scare your spouse and hypnotize her into believing that spiders are living and breeding in your house. Make the little woman fear spiders and get a big laugh.
“You son of a bitch! I will have my revenge. You’ll see,” and with that, Maureen ran out of the room, slammed the door shut, snapped the lock and put away the key. She climbed the stairs and entered the kitchen, fuming. For a moment she didn’t know what to do. She was so furious that she forgot about something, but suddenly that something made itself known as she felt the wetness between her legs. For the slightest moment she liked it, felt at peace, like a little baby, and then suddenly, she became all the more mad, mad at her idiot husband, and even more angry with herself for having been easily affected by the hypnosis CD, and that’s when she had her plan. It all came together, and for the second time that night, she was excited.
The End of The Un-training of Stanley Kaminski – Chapter Two
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index