Crinkle – Chapter Six
Mummy was right; no one mentioned the noisy rustling, crinkly sound as he walked by.
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In fact it was safe to say, most people had their own problems and Ryan’s little noise predicament wasn’t one of them. The firm seemed to be going through some changes and everyone was on edge except Ryan. Despite his original reluctance to wear what his mummy had decided, he quite liked this enhanced padded feeling at work. He knew it didn’t matter to any of his work colleagues but he found that his noisy, little secret left him with a knowing smile on his face all day.
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His mother was correct about something else as well; the fact that the padding, coupled with his rowdy silky pants, were a constant reminder that she was supportive, loving and knew what he wanted, even if that was before he was conscious of exactly what that was himself. That hug around his hips was comforting, just like his mummy’s hugs. The thick soft fabric so close to his skin, keeping him safe and secure was everything his mummy was trying to do for her little boy. Even though his bottom was still smarting from the hairbrush he realised that she didn’t want him wasting time worrying about anything, just to accept her love, do what he’s told and enjoy the thing he’d obviously been craving so long. As he walked around his mind was in a very mushy, loving state and he adored what she was doing for him.
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He loved his work but now he couldn’t wait to get home on an evening. Mummy would be there and who knew what development she might have planned. In his head he bounced around the idea of a brightly painted nursery with cartoon characters on the wall. He could see a huge crib with a mobile hanging above it, which played a tinkle-tune lullaby as he drifted off to sleep. He knew this was just fantasy and remembered that only a few days ago he would have rejected the very idea of ever wanting any such thing; the nappy and plastic pants being the sum total of his ‘fetish’. However, things had rapidly changed, his mother had seen to that. No longer was he playing at being ‘little’, she made sure he was now a baby with no responsibility. All he had to do was embrace his mummy’s will, respond to her love and happily drift into a state of perpetual infantilism.
Perpetual?
This was a dilemma. Wearing a nappy to work was nice and childish and it had to be admitted, gave Ryan quite a thrill, but work itself was far too grown-up for a baby. His mother had thought along these lines since the day she changed from being ‘mother’ to ‘mummy’. From that first ‘crinkle’ hug of acceptance, when Ryan realised his mummy was there for him, she had been developing a strategy to enable her baby boy to be just that. She loved her son and was very proud that at sixteen, when he could have gone on to further education and possibly university, he wanted to work. He was, and is, a sweet and thoughtful boy but, his mother had determined, his need to wear nappies had proved to her that he wasn’t really ready for such responsibility. He did his best and quite successfully but he wasn’t ready. She had decided he needed to return to a time of no stress, no pressure, no responsibility or worries of any kind… her boy was going to return to being the sweet little baby boy who his mummy would do everything for.
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The first step was to make sure she had all that was needed. On that first day after the ‘crinkle’ discovery, she set about obtaining those very things. Online she was able to tap in her requests and, thanks to her son’s Paypal account, get much of the stuff delivered.
Some of the items were special orders, while others were simple stock products, the rest she could pick up from any pharmacist. On an evening, when he returned from work he was immediately taken to his room where his mother checked his nappy. Occasionally it was wet but, after a day out at work, it definitely needed replacing. Once her son was wiped, cleaned, dried and powdered it was on with a fresh nappy and plastic pants.
Sometimes the crinkle ones, sometimes the clear, slippery plastic ones but that was all he was allowed to wear around the house. The smell of lotion and baby powder would greet any visitor, not that there were any of course, and the sight of her son blissfully happy waddling about in a huge nappy emphasised what she already knew. The initial baby dummies she bought were too small for him; they really were for babies and didn’t have enough of a teat for him to suck on. Thankfully, the first things to arrive were the correct sized dummies and feeding bottles so that problem was quickly resolved.
The next problem to be undertaken was Ryan’s reluctance to mess himself. His mother understood his problem but he needed to get over it and, rather than resorting to punishment (the hairbrush, though rarely used, remained a permanent threat) she was keen to use other methods.
The feeding bottle was just the thing. On the first night she had them, she filled one up with warm milk and added a little extra. His ever encouraging mummy made sure he sucked the entire bottle down just before bed at seven thirty, checked that his plastic pants were tight and fitting securely, pushed a new soft teddy bear into his hands, kissed him good night and waited. In the morning one humiliated and messy boy sat up with tears in his eyes hardly believing what had happened during the night. He hadn’t known it was all down to his mummy but the fact that she was praising and happy to clean him up should have said everything.
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However, now she realised there was something else that needed attending to… his hair… to be precise his pubic hair. With poo all squished around it made cleaning her son far fiddlier than it need be. So, she found a large tube of Nair and that night, before bath time, spread it all over her son’s body.
Less than a quarter of an hour later, fresh from his soapy paradise, he was hairless apart from that on his head. Sleek and hair-free she smoothed in more lotion and creams, which got her son excited and it was at that point she decided something else also needed to be done. Little boys may well want to play with themselves but that impulse definitely needed to be tamed. Ryan was twenty-four and had his own urges that needed to be retrained. Thankfully the solution was online and, judging by some of the web pages she’d looked at previously to determine just what her son liked, she found the very item.
The small clear plastic lockable cage arrived on the same day as most of her ‘made-to-measure’ order. On that day everything began to take form. First she typed a letter of resignation, which Ryan would hand to his boss the following day, with immediate effect. Then, once delivered he returned home where his ever loving mother stripped him of his grown up clothing, bathed and informed him from that moment on, he was her precious baby.
Ryan wasn’t so sure, his mother discerned he was wavering but she had become a force to be reckoned and had no doubt she knew what was best for her little boy.
After more anti-rash cream was rubbed into his groin she attached the little cage thus restricting his pee-pee to a future of confinement. He was surprised at this turn of events and certainly wasn’t happy about it but his acting up soon stopped after a few swats from the ever menacing hairbrush.
His mummy had quickly developed a technique that scared, subdued and stung in equal measure. Ryan came to heel the moment it slapped emphatically against is reddened bottom. So, after a few tenderising swats his argumentative side was quickly subdued. Now, with the only grown up urge safely controlled behind a plastic cage she wanted her twenty-four year-old son to know his place – and that was wearing a nappy and under her benevolent jurisdiction.
Soon the disposables gave way to thick terry nappies and a whole new batch of crinkly, crackly plastic pants was added to his wardrobe. Onesies would become both his day and night ware and short coveralls would be his going out attire. For when he got ‘fussy’, and so there was instant access, a dummy was permanently attached to his clothing, meanwhile, his substantial nappies made sure crawling was the best way of getting about.
All his clothes now possessed pop-studs at the crotch so access and changing were made easier. His potty training wouldn’t begin for quite some time so he had no option but to use what mummy had designated.
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Watching his bulky, crackling bottom shuffle or crawl around the room was a complete and utter delight for his mummy and Ryan, well Ryan had to deal with a strange mixture of deep emotions. His ‘little’ fetish was no longer under his control. He was after all twenty-four years old, he had needs and desires that were not catered for by being a baby but those were now under the complete command of his suddenly very dominant, determined and decisive mummy.
His occasional bursts of revolt were soon tamed by a few smacks of the hairbrush, which his mother used if needed to get complete and utter compliance. Ryan learned, on an almost daily basis, that he must never be anything more than a cute and acquiescent little baby boy… his needs were second to what his mummy desired.
All he had to remember was that his mummy loved him very much and that the only way he could repay that love was to do and be just what she’d determined.
His mother did her research. When Ryan had been at work or slept she’d go online and read more stories, features and facts about being an ABDL. She couldn’t believe there were so many other people who enjoyed the same ‘little’ lifestyle that her son ‘enjoyed’. However, she liked the idea that her baby should be just that… she wanted her baby back.
She was aware that at his age he had a life of his own to lead but, since she’d discovered there was more to it than just slipping on a nappy, that there were depths and deeper longings, she wanted more for her son and perhaps more importantly, more for herself.
She determined that wearing a nappy for so long in secret had been detrimental to his well-being and that nothing less than total immersion in to that lifestyle would make him happy.
She felt like she hadn’t done enough to free her son from the shackles he’d had to bear since the day he’d started work. She blamed herself; she’d known about his little fetish and had done nothing for all those years to help her boy. It had been very remiss of her so now she was determined to make amends.
She needed something in her life and she couldn’t bear the thought of eventually losing her boy. He needed looking after, that was what the secret nappy-wearing had been all about so obviously, this was what he wanted.
So, the desire to have her baby permanently back would fill her days with immense pleasure and was sure he would feel the same, so, the idea of total regression might be the solution. The more she read about the subject the more convinced it was what her nappy-wearing son wanted… no… needed.
He was struggling with his caged wee-wee. He found it frustrating, annoying and desperately wanted rid of it. The lack of access meant he couldn’t do the other thing he liked to do and that was to jerk off into the soft folds of his nappy. He hated this restriction mummy placed on him but his rosy bottom meant that every time he tried to complain, he was dealt a severe blow – he liked the spanking less than filling his nappy with cummies.
She was positive that somehow she had to expunge completely his twenty-four year old thoughts.
She could do nothing about his body but hoped she could help him become what she… he… desired … a mind that thought only of that second.
She’d do more research and start emptying his mind of all his needless thoughts. She had to get him over any reluctance to let go. He needed to know that filling his nappy, playing with toys, cuddling a teddy bear was all she expected of him.
Yes, complete regression was the answer.
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The hypnotic programme she constantly played through the TV was having an immediate impact as Ryan squirmed and giggled as he watched the colourful images swim around the screen. He quickly learned to cry when his nappy was messy and gratefully hugged mummy once she’d cleaned him up and put him in something dry, soft and comfortable. He loved his new huge nappies and the colourful cartoon plastic pants which cushioned him as he occasionally flopped to the floor.
His life was no longer his own… it was his mothers and she only wanted him to respond with smiles, giggles and messy nappies!
The End of Crinkle – Chapter Six.
The story originally came from: https://www.dailydiapers.com/content/stories.html
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index