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|Chapter #: 1|
Summary: The complete story. Male infantilism, male mental AR, strong humiliation, strong diapers and use, strong gay sexual content.
Updated On: 12 February 2011 - Words Count: 5232 - Number of Reads: 0
The following is a work of fiction. In spite of the illusion this epistolary format presents, no character in the story exists as a person or person’s avatar, and no character in the story is based on an existing person or person’s avatar, with the exception of myself, who has been fictionalized.
As with all of the stories I write as little trip, “21 New Messages” contains unconventionally explicit subject matter, both infantilist and sexual. Please exercise discretion.
21 New Messages ##
### by little trip ##
Date / Time: 2011-11-13 / 11:12:35
Hey Little Trip!
I enjoy your work and was wondering whether you were accepting any commissions right now?
Date / Time: 2011-11-16 / 17:07:38
Subject: Re: Re: Commission?
That’s great news. Yeah, that all sounds good to me.
Here’s my idea. I’d kinda like it to star me, if that’s okay. My name is Dylan and I’m 17. I go to high school near Chicago and am big into hockey (so I don’t get home until close to sunset, if you have questions or updates for me). I have a dad, a mom, and a little brother who’s 13. Everybody gets along except me and my brother who can be a royal pain sometimes.
I like the idea of mental AR, but in a special way... guys who can think and write and type like always, but who gradually lose control of their emotions and bodily functions and ability to speak. Like a grown-up inhabiting the body of a grown-up but becoming increasingly childlike.
I have no real sexual taboos (except animals, ew) and am majorly into humiliation so if you can cram a bunch of that into there that would just be amazing. I’m a little horndog so character-me might as well be, too. And please don’t be shy with the diapers and bodily functions (heh, look who I’m talking to)... just no violence. Finally, I’d appreciate being returned to my normal self afterwards :)
Plot-wise... just day-to-day life, really. My family dealing with my semi-mental AR in whatever ways they can think of. If you have any questions about more details of my life just ask, but I’d be equally happy to be surprised, too.
Date / Time: 2011-11-20 / 10:29:01
Subject: Just had to tell you...
Hehe, I couldn’t let this go unsaid. First of all, thanks for the estimated word count and completion date... it sounds like the coolest Christmas present ever!
I also liked your proposed scenarios... a lot. I’d love to see those happen. Thanks for asking.
Here’s the thing, though... I wet the bed last night. *^_^* I haven’t done that since I was 9! I must be more excited for this story than I thought... hehe.
Well, I didn’t mean to trouble you with something so silly, but it just seemed like a cool twist. I’ll let you get back to work.
Date / Time: 2011-11-22 / 18:54:36
Subject: Re: Re: Just had to tell you...
I was an avid thumbsucker as a toddler. Thanks for asking whether I was a thumbsucker or had a pacifier... if Dylan in the story ended up with a binky, that might’ve taken me right out of it. :P
Date/Time: 2011-11-23 / 06:33:58
Subject: Well, that was just weird.
Sorry for bothering you online so early, but you’re probably still asleep anyway.
I woke up wet again. This was twice in four days... and I woke up with my thumb in my mouth, happily sucking away. So far I’ve been able to hide this sort of thing from my family, but I have to ask... is there something you’re doing to make this stuff happen to me? LOL ;)
Date/Time: 2011-11-28 / 18:49:47
No reply yet from the 23rd. That’s okay. I’m sure you’re plenty busy with the story and, like, life.
Listen, something happened today and it really gave me pause. Ever since I woke up sucking my thumb last Wednesday, I’ve started doing it, like, every night... and sometimes during the day. I rarely ever realize I’ve put it in my mouth. The only time I notice is a split second before I jerk it out. Then I look around sheepishly to make sure nobody saw me. I’ve been lucky about that.
My luck ran out today. I was in the locker room, changing after hockey practice, and I hear one of the guys yell “Hey, look at Dylan! He’s got his thumb in his mouth!” And at least four guys saw it before I had a chance to pull it out. “Hey Dylan, I got something BETTER you could suck on!” one dickhead called out, grabbing his crotch. It was really embarrassing and what my mind hated, my cock didn’t. I’m not gay but I had to hide my hardon inside my locker.
Thing is, this is exactly the kind of thing you proposed putting in my story when we first started talking, around the 20th. I know it probably wormed its way into my subconscious but it’s still true that I’M doing the kinds of things I want my CHARACTER to do. His life is what I fantasize about-- I don’t want to live it.
I know this sounds stupid, but still I hope you write back.
Date/Time: 2011-12-01 / 17:02:08
Subject: Re: Re: Okay...
Thanks for your reply, but it didn’t really explain anything. “I’m writing at least a little bit of your story every day, but there’s no funny business going on”? What does that even mean?
I had an accident in my pants today during school. I needed to pee, and it came on really quickly and really strongly, and I could barely get out of history class in time. I was rushing down the hallway, then I was toddling down the hallway, my hands pressed into the crotch of my blue jeans harder than my dick could tolerate it. It was a relief nobody saw me.
THEN it was a relief, for my muscles at least, when I started pissing in my pants. My hands got soaked, and I could feel it running down my legs, and I had to use one hand to open the bathroom door, leaving it to spray out even worse. By the time I got my cock out of my fly and threw it over the edge of a urinal, there were only a few droplets left to squeeze out.
For an hour I had to wait locked in a bathroom stall while my mom got off work and brought a change of pants and underwear to the school. I sat on the open toilet seat in case I had another accident, but all I did was suck my thumb. I could still taste some of the pee on it but I didn’t care. I was crying too hard. Crying over something so stupid. I haven’t cried since my grandmother died.
It was so humiliating to have her see me in that condition. And it wasn’t in the good way this time. Now, typing it out for you here at home, I’ve got a raging boner, and I know I’m gonna have to rub out this load before dinner. But this is the sort of thing I like to wait for the actual STORIES for.
My mom is making me wear training pants to bed at night now. I’ve peed in my bed every night for the past week. She says she’s sick of doing my filthy laundry every day and I can’t blame her.
I’m 17 and whatever’s going on is making me feel pretty helpless. I think I want my down payment back. Don’t write another word until I have a chance to figure out what’s going on.
Date/Time: 2011-12-03 / 13:20:22
Date/Time: 2011-12-04 / 09:15:43
Subject: Re: I try to make my stories come alive.
Hardy-fuckin-har. I don’t care if you want to try to make your stories come alive anymore.
I’m wearing diapers all the time now. 17 and in FUCKING DIAPERS. My parents took me to the doctor and he couldn’t find anything functionally wrong, but that didn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to make it to a toilet to do anything other than take a shit for three days.
If I have to learn toilet training again, I’m warning the ARArchive about you. I’ve been crying... sobbing... this whole time typing this. And, of course, sucking my thumb between sentences. Thanks for writing in THAT little compulsion, sick little freak.
I’m glad you wired me my PayPal back when I asked. I trust this ends this transaction.
Thanks for nothing,
Date/Time: 2011-12-07 / 13:01:56
Wonder what I’m doing home at 1 o’clock on a Wednesday? Well, I’ll tell you.
My diapers aren’t the easiest things to hide in school. I have to wear baggy jeans and change in the bathroom stalls and hide in little alcoves in the locker room.
They were even HARDER to hide at lunch today. There I sat, eating my rectangle-pizza and chatting with my hockey buddies, and BOOM, the cramps hit. I say “I’ll be right back,” push back my chair, stand up, and start taking a dump right there in my pants.
Can you imagine? I couldn’t even hide it for the farting noises. All I worried about what stopping it from coming. But it didn’t stop. I closed my eyes, I bit my bottom lip, and I pooped my diapers right there in front of all my friends. They laughed, they held their noses, they drew attention to me. I was in tears, sobbing, very nearly bawling, as I toddled awkwardly to the nurse’s office.
I got suspended for a week for causing a disruption and endangering people’s health. The principal said teenagers don’t suddenly start crapping in diapers apropos of nothing. Then he snarkily added “High school’s for the potty trained.”
He was right. 17-year-olds don’t start messing their diapers for NO REASON. Hell, they don’t start WEARING diapers for no reason. No, there’s a perfectly valid reason, and you’re it, Trip.
Now I have to go to a goddamn psychologist tomorrow.
And now, I’m leaking pre-cum into my diaper. And now, I’m going to have to lock the door and beat off to what just happened. And then I’m probably going to piss myself, and then I’m definitely going to start bawling.
I rue the say I ever commissioned you.
...Please stop. Please.
Date/Time: 2011-12-08 / 22:50:53
Subject: If you refuse to stop writing...
...PLEASE, at least, change the story. Please change where it’s going. I can’t take it anymore.
The psychologist said I was acting out regressive tendencies due to extreme stress. (Extreme stress? Ya think?) He told my mom to get me to cooperate with my family, for all of them to treat me like a toddler or infant for as long as it would take until I decided to stop and I was ready to go back to the 11th grade.
But it’s not GOING to stop, is it? Because I asked that it wouldn’t for my character. Well, I’m asking again. Set things right for me.
When we got home from the psychologist, I stood in the foyer and soaked my diapers. I didn’t even bother to move, couldn’t even try to hide it. I was too busy bawling, tears streaming down my face, as I sucked my thumb between wails. It was just too much to handle.
I’ve lost the ability to change my own diapers. I get so emotionally upset by it that I can’t get my hands to work. And then I get DOUBLY upset when my own mother lays me down on my bed and untapes me, cooing the same sing-song reassurances she would when I was 2, then wipes down my penis and crotch and powders a fresh diaper beneath my oiled butt. I have to cooperate, but it’s hard when I’m sucking my thumb and crying.
When she taped up that first fresh diaper of mine after the psychologist appointment, I lost the ability to say any words longer than a couple syllables or construct sentences of any level of complexity. I can think them, and of course I can type them, but I can’t get them out my mouth. I just can’t get them to come out!
Please fix the story, Trip. I’m sorry about the things I said about you.
I can’t be a baby again. I just can’t.
Date/Time: 2011-12-11 / 19:58:55
Subject: Re: Sorry about your troubles.
Thank you for your condolences with regard to your turning me into a 17-year-old infantile freak. I pictured you smiling a shit-eating grin when you were typing THAT one out.
Speaking of shit, I’ve been waking up in messy, soaked diapers every single night. I guess that’s the end of my potty training. Thanks.
The natural progression? Now I’m only allowed to wear t-shirts and diapers (or just diapers) when I crinkle my way around the house so that I can be continually checked. Not that my bass-level bawling leaves anything to the imagination. My parents bought me a high chair and a crib. I had mushy peas and eggplant for dinner tonight. Some of it landed on my bib... some of it landed on my diaper. Most of it, unfortunately, landed inside my mouth. I sobbed quietly at that, too.
All I’m drinking is milk and apple juice and water and I’m only allowed to drink it out of my “baba.” I can’t form the word “bottle.” I can’t see my friends or my girlfriend... not that I’d want to, obviously.
My mom gives me my baths. My dad shaved my privates.
I get so horny at night in my diapers that I have to cum three or four times, sucking my thumb and clutching my teddy bear, before I can even thinking about falling asleep. If my mom notices the dried semen in the disastrous diapers I wake up with, she at least has the courtesy not to mention it.
It’s almost 8 PM. My bedtime. Gotta get my “dipee” changed. I can’t even say “diaper” anymore.
Guess I should just start going with this. My crib’s made. At least try to find some mercy in your writing.
Date/Time: 2011-12-14 / 14:19:15
Subject: A humble request.
I was scheduled to go back to school today. Clearly, I couldn’t.
If you’re going to keep going with this, I do have just one request-- tone it down a bit with the sick shit. I don’t know how humiliated you think I like to be but you really crossed the line this afternoon.
I had wet my diaper, and was splayed out on the new changing table my parents bought for me, about to get changed by my mom, sucking my thumb and drooling onto the pad. You know, the usual.
When “Mommy” unfolded the front of my diaper, I started to poop.
Obviously, I didn’t feel it coming, and obviously, I was helpless to stop it. I could just gape in horror as my weakened ass kept pushing log after log of shit onto the unfolded inside surface of my wet diaper. Mommy apparently didn’t want the added challenge of cleaning up my body and genitals, so she didn’t fold the diaper back up... she just let it happen. She cooed and awwed and “tsk-tsked” “Poopy Dylan” as I emptied myself right in front of her, every attempt to pinch it off just causing a babyish fart and a bigger mess.
When she removed the violated diaper from beneath my butt and started cleaning me up, I ejaculated onto my naked chest, four long ropes. Mommy cleaned them off her “big boy” without further comment.
Please, Trip. Give me back some autonomy. Don’t let Mommy change my diapers any more. She’s seen more than I ever wanted her to see. EVER.
Date/Time: 2011-12-15 / 15:45:26
Subject: Fuck you.
THIS is your solution!? To get my 13-year-old brother to change my diapers!?
You’d think he wouldn’t accept the job, but he fucking RELISHES it, the little dickhead. Chase is always sticking his fingers down my diapers, even if they’re CLEARLY not wet or full, and he’s always cooing “Awww, is widdle baby Dilly wettums yet?”
He tries to time it so he’s present when I DO finally go, so he can gleefully watch as I soak the front with yellow pee or load up my drooping butt with brown mush.
Then he MAKES me tell him what I’ve done, even if the smell is obvious enough to wilt flowers. “Me made poopies in my dipee, can Chase pwease change me pwease?” is how he makes me ask. Sometimes he makes me ask over and over until it starts to itch and I start to cry.
Very thoughtful of you, by the way, writing your story so that now I only ever piss or shit myself when Chase is at home. No cramps, no pain when he’s at school or a friend’s house... but depending on how much I ate or suckled from my baba, I totally destroy my diaper mere minutes after Chase walks in the door. He takes at least twice as long to change me as Mommy, and he gives me three times the cooing and wiping down.
Don’t make him love this. Make him love me. Make me not mind. Write him with a little compassion.
At the end of my rattle,
Date/Time: 2011-12-17 / 19:57:09
Subject: sick bastard
Do I even need to tell you? You wrote the fuckin thing.
Chase changed my diapers six times today. Morning mess, two wets, two afternoon messes, and a soaking just now.
Nighttime changing... I got UNBELIEVEABLY hard. It’s usually just semis, but you made me get hard right in front of my baby brother. The sparkle of opportunity in his eyes was bone-chilling.
How much of what came next was you and how much of it was Chase? He grabbed my stiff cock by the base, made disparaging remarks about its size, then cooed baby talk to me as he jerked me off with baby oil. And he DID jerk me OFF. I bucked and spasmed and mewled like a child atop my fresh diaper as seven pearly strands of hot stinking cum burst out of the head of my cock. Chase very deliberately aimed it so every last drop of my boy-juice splattered onto my chest and torso.
“Fank... you...” was all I could manage around my thumb, my mind having betrayed me.
“Don’t thank me just yet, sexy.”
He scooped up all of my cum into my baba and force-fed it to me. I wept as I sucked the warm, salty, bleachlike fluid out of the nipple, and Chase finished diapering me. The feeling of the tight fabric on my aching dick made me squirm in agony.
You couldn’t have misinterpreted my words worse. If he wants to be a little queer on his own time, that’s his business. Don’t ever make him jerk me off again.
An ill and confused Dylan
Date/Time: 2011-12-19 / 19:51:35
Oh, Trip. You’re like a genie who revels in delivering the worst possible misreadings of your master’s wishes.
Chase is off for his junior high’s winter break. I suppose that’s good for my bladder and bowel health, but my humiliation (and, now, arousal) is practically nonstop. My 13-year-old brother has a new hobby, and it’s me.
Yesterday morning, he woke me with my morning baba of milk mixed with a load of his OWN young semen. Sometimes, when he’s changing me, after he sets me up with a fresh diaper but before he tapes it up, he’ll pull his four-inch dick out of the fly of his jeans and masturbate onto my crotch. Only then will he tape me up, dooming me to spend the next several hours as his cum courier. It sinks into my skin and itches me to death and makes me feel such shame, as if he’s marking me as his own.
He hasn’t jerked me off since I made my request to you. Instead, he’ll make me masturbate during my diaper changes, sucking my thumb and mewling at his request. Often he’ll make me use his own cum as lube. And he always makes me clean off my hand with my tongue when I’m done, so that I “grow up big and strong.”
Except for those moments of passion, I live my life much as a baby would. I play with blocks, eat strained carrots, take baths, cry at the drop of a hat, pee and poop my pants, and have bedtime stories read to me. I can’t speak words anymore. “Chase” is “Bobo” -- for “brother,” I guess. “Uck” is for the vegetables. “Ungh” is for when I fill my diapers. It must be something, seeing my trim, 17-year-old hockey body do all these things.
You said that this would be done on Christmas. That’s six days. I have to see how it ends.
Date/Time: 2011-12-22 / 16:11:06
Subject: (no subject)
Chase gave me a blowjob today. He rubbed a fresh powdery diaper against my balls as he nursed my leaking penis like an expert cocksucker. It wasn’t so bad. Of course, he didn’t swallow, me being his “diaper bitch.” He deposited my load into my open mouth, straight from his.
I’m glad he’s gay. I guess I am, too. I haven’t given it much thought... I’ve been too preoccupied with my new lifestyle. I sure prefer the endless loads of cum to the garbage that’s spoon-fed to me in my high chair.
My parents have given up on potty training me. I piss and shit my diapers with such gleeful abandon, anxious for Chase and I to share our intimate moments, that my folks have decided to drain my savings account and college fund to defray the cost of the two whole packs of adult diapers I need every week. Won’t they be surprised when you send me my story on Christmas and give me my life back!
...You... WILL do that, won’t you?
Date/Time: 2011-12-24 / 19:59:27
Subject: Early Christmas Present
Chase gave me my present a day early. For my last diaper change of the evening, when our parents were occupied at a family friend’s Christmas party, Chase brought over six of his guy friends to watch. They were held in rapt attention and I was blushing all over like a beet as my little brother cleaned me. I could tell all seven teenagers were developing erections inside their pants as my little brother wiped my shaved private parts and rediapered my thumbsucking form.
Chase made me sit my crinkly butt on the carpeted floor and spread my legs for balance, revealing my adolescent body and the full width and thickness of my diaper in all their infantile glory.
One by one, each 13- through 15-year-old boy unzipped their pants in front of me, fished out their cocks, and made me suck them to orgasm. I wasn’t so good at it at first, but when the first boy squealed, held the back of my head in his hands, and emptied his balls into my mouth, I knew I had done a decent job.
Chase ordered me not to swallow. Instead, he told me to look down, open the front of my diaper, and spit his friend’s load onto my crotch. The warm liquid flowed over my stiff dick and around my balls, settling into the front panel of my diaper, which I returned to my belly.
I did better the second time. This boy wanted his balls played with, so I did. I was really starting to get into it. His cum tasted different, almost sweet like vanilla, and it joined the first load in the front of my diaper.
The third boy wanted his balls slathered with my tongue. It drove him to moan and stare at the ceiling as he slid his young cock along my face. He didn’t last so long, and he shot his load all over my cheeks and lips. I expected Chase to order me to scoop it all up, suck it from my hand, and spit it into the front of my diaper. He did. I complied.
By the time the fourth boy’s sticky load had found its way into my diaper, I could feel my cock and balls literally swimming in a pool of the stuff. He had made me slap my thighs like a frustrated toddler as I blew him. The salty taste of four guys glazed my tongue as I fucked their juices inside my baby underpants.
The fifth boy pulled his pants and briefs down to his knees and ordered me to finger his ass as I sucked his leaking, four-inch dick. It was so tight I couldn’t believe he’d ever taken a shit in his life. He came a whole hell of a lot as I tickled his prostate. Into my diaper it went. Even the three streaks which had dripped from my bottom lip and onto my chin.
I had become ravenous. My sexual orientation was no longer in question. I had totally become Chase’s slave, these boys’ slaves, and my purpose in being was to bring them to orgasm. When my little brother’s sixth friend made me eat out his ass, I didn’t even give it a second thought. He groomed well so there was nothing unpleasant about it. He came the hardest and the most, too, and when my tongue spilled his semen down the front of my diaper, I thought for sure I’d start to leak out the leg bands.
I was very near orgasm myself, the head of my cock sliding against my diaper as my shaft bathed in ounces and ounces of teenage semen. But it wasn’t over.
At last, my little brother stood in front of me, and he made me suck his dick. It felt familiar, as I had seen it a few times growing up, and it had spilled much of its seed onto my flesh over the past several days. I remembered the warm sensation of it dripping down my testicles, the sheer naughtiness of keeping the secret that I was crawling around the house with my brother’s semen in my diaper, the taste of it mixed with milk when he fed me my breakfast babas. These pleasant thoughts kept me company as I worked his shaft and head with passionate abandon, aching to get the biggest load of cum out of my (now, technically, big) brother as possible.
“You’ll swallow this,” was all he gasped as he started pumping his hot semen over my tongue. He fucked my face, the wet heat of his juices drooling past my throat and down my esophagus, filling my stomach like a fine Scotch. I wasted not a single drop, and proceeded to clean off his dick with the tip of my tongue.
All eight of us were exhausted. I fell onto my back, six loads of hot cum sloshing around inside my diaper, lubricating my naughty bits and coating my backside. A seventh bubbled in my tummy. An eighth -- my own -- flew full-force into my diaper as the underside of my cock brushed against the front panel just right. My orgasm lasted 45 seconds. When the last of my cum finally drooled out of my dick and over my balls, mixing with the others’, I couldn’t imagine ever being able to get hard again. But I knew I would.
As it got closer to my bedtime, Chase politely shooed his friends out of the house. He’s about to tuck me into my crib with my teddy and my blankie. I’d get to sleep all night long with my loins coated in all the cum I earned.
I’m hard again just thinking about it.
Date/Time: 2011-12-25 / 11:16:28
Subject: Finished story?
Is my story finished yet?
From: little trip
Date/Time: 2011-12-25 / 11:49:59
Subject: Re: Finished story?
Not quite. Was just going to put together the final chapter (today’s) now.
Date/Time: 2011-12-25 / 11:54:07
Subject: Re: Re: Finished story?
Don’t. It’s perfect. Check your PayPal. Thanks for everything.
thanks for reading. -lt
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