The sign intrigued me. My favorite bar was now offering "Fetish Night" on Wednesdays from 8 PM until close. I bugged the manager and he explained that the city had a wide variety of people into fetishes who wanted a place to hang out . . . Wednesday's being the dullest day he thought it would liven things up and bring in some business. His only rules were no public displays of anything intimate.
At 25 years old, I was well aware of my own variety of sexual fetishes and desires and would have loved to dive into the party . . . but I was a bit wary. First of all, I have a public job (I work with the media and my face is on tv quite a bit) and being seen piublicly indulging would be a big problem at my work. And second, I've never been one of those people who has ONE fetish that they completely immerse in. I enjoy crossdressing, but I have no desire to fully transition or even look passable. I am a diaper lover, but don't wan to be full-on babied. I want to be controled, but not told Im a fiflthy slut or what have you . . .
As a kind of compromise, I figured I'd show up early wednesday, grab a table and some dinner, and watch what everyone else was doing. I'd bring some work along and if I ran into any friends or fans I'd just tell them i was working and hadn't realized the fetish party started.
Wednesday came and by 6 PM I had staked out my favorite table . . . the bar is lowered in te middle of the room and my spot was on a slightly raised level, off in a corner so i could see everyone but not be seen necessarily . . . and it had a gret view of the tv so i could keep an eye on the game.
By 730 some of the fetish revelers started showing up and by 8 the party was in full swing. Guys in full drag, girls in leather with whips and crops. Definitely fun to watch but not exactly something i would want to run down and join. Suddenly, i heard a voice behind me . . .
"So what's your kink?" she asked. In front of my table stodd this amazingly cute girl. About my age with dark brown hair to her shoulder blades, deep green eyes and little white teeth . . . . she was about 5'6" and perfectly proportioned. Not too big, not too skinny.
"Oh me . . . i'm not into all that . . . just working." I gestured to my pad of notes i was jotting as proof.
"Oh, cool . . my name's jennifer . . . do you mind if i sit, its kinda crowded down there." she gestured to the mob on the dance floor whooping it up. I nodded . . . told her my name (it's chris by the way) and we started chatting. over an order of mozzerella sticks she told me that she had come with a group of friends from her psychology classes. They were all studying a unit on sexuality disorders and the teacher encouraged her class to go mingle with people who were outside the sexual norm. I told her about my job and a little bit about where i grew up. Generally, a nice time.
After my quick bio we got back to her . . . she told me that she wanted to be a sexual therapist. She laughed at my goofy grin and chuckled when i made a lame joke about having patients lay down on the couch . . . but what she expalined started to make sense . . . she said that while some people delve into fetishes for purely sexual reasons, others use them as a kind of stress release. That they are rooted to deeper emotional and mental needs.
As she talked, I began to see a bit of myself in her theory. I didn't want to be babied, but i loved the idea of a woman willing to take care of me and accept me . . . even if that meant letting me wear a diaper or her old prom dress.
i started nodding . . . perhaps a bit too enthusiastically because after a moment she paused and asked quietly if i really did have a fetish. i thought for a moment but when i looked deep into her understanding green eyes i knew we were tlaking just us.
i told her that i did have some experimental desires but i felt a bit weird because i never fell in love with any single fetish. she asked about what specific fetishes i tested and i slowly let them out, one by one . . . building from easiest to smallest half expecting her to freak out but she just kept this sweet look of acceptance on her face . . .being dominated . . . being tiedup and spanked . . . crossdressing . . . wearing diapers . . .
i blushed after a moment andstared at my plate . . . wondering if she'd take the break in conversation to get up and leave. but she didn't . . . she just held my hand and told me she understood. about then the bar was closing so we got up to leave . . . i gave her my business card as a gesure that i enjoyed the evening we had unwittingly spent together . . . told her if she ver wanted to get togehter, i'd like her to call me. we parted ways and i went home . . .
two days later
after a couple days I began to realize that while she was sweet and understanding, jennifer could probably never truly invest time with a guy she knew liked to wear diapers. but then, i got a call . . .from her . . .
She expalined over the phone that she wanted to start a business where men and women could seek her counseling but in a setting where their fetish was accepted. she believed that doing so would not only build trust more rapidly but also help patients relax. i told her it sounded awesome and i joked that i would love to be an investor.
after a pause she said . . . well, you could be. she expalined that she wanted to test her theories before launching a full business as well as get some practice with real patients and would i be willing to try and help her. i told her i wasn't sure how much help i could be, but i'd try.
she gave me her apartment address and we set up an appointment for that afternoon.
When i got to her apartment and knocked on the door, an intercow by the door crackled with her voice. she urged me to come inside and make myself comfortable . . . i opened the door and grabbed a seat on a cushy sofa. from behind me i heard her down the hall call out "are you ready?" i answered that i was, not quite sure what to expect really. when she walked into the bedroomi was stunned.
the first session
in front of me stood jennifer, the most beautiful woman i'd ever laid eyes on, her hair in braided pigtails, a pair of spectacles sitting on the bridge of her nose, holding a pad and pen, wearing nothing but a pink tshirt and a large disposable diaper.
are you ok she asked, blushing a bit.
i nodded and tried to explain how surprised i was. she explained that this was the whole point of her therapy . . . show her pagtients that she accepted and loved them no matter what. now chris, is it ok that im wearing a diaper in front of you? i noded again feeling a bit embarassed with my lack of verbal skills. would you like to be wearing a diaper too? she asked, like a teacher would ask her class.
i nodded again, not quite sure what else to do . . . at that poiint she took me by the hand and lead me to her bedroom where she had a giant disposable diaper alid out wiht baby wipes, powder and lotion.
see chirs honey, i picked out all of this just for oyu. your urge to wear diapers is ok here. with that, she helped me strip down until i was onlyu wearing my tshirt and she laid me on the bed. she gently applied the lotion and topped it off with a sprinkle of powder beofre urging me to lift up so she could slide the thick diaper under my bottom. she eased it between my legs befrore taping it snugly and then helping me up into a sitting position.
now, sweetie, tell me how you are feeling.
i feel, ok. . . .i feel accepted i smiled at her. good. now, you also mentioned that you enjoy crossdressing, would you like to stay in the tshirt or would you like to borrom one of my dresses? i looked at the floor a bit and told her id love to but i highly doubted she had anything in that closet to fit my 6 foot 200 pound frame. she giggled and told me that she was a bit of a theatre geek and over the years amassed quite a costume collection for ranging sizes. i slowly nodded and she went to her closet and returned with an alice in wonderland style dress which she helped me slip over my head . . . pale blue with a white ruffly pinny apron.as she tied the bow, i didnt realize that i had started chewing on my thumb nail from nerves . . .
jennifer said that she knew i didnt want to be a baby but would i prefer chewing on a pacifier instead of my nail? again, all i could do was nod and she handed me a powder blue dummy . . .
with me dressed we went back into the living room and just talked. for hours, we talked about why i was so atracted to my fetishes . . . the way i didnt fit in in high school and struck out with girls . . . the way i longed to ifnd somoene who would accept me and love me . . . all the while jennifer just took notes, and occasionally checked to see that i wasn't wet.
after about two hours i realized i had to get home and do some work before going to bed . . . .unsure exactly how to end the session i looked at jennifer and she lead me to the bedroom. she laid me down and removed my diaper that had become damp about twnety minutes ago. as she gently wiped and powdered me jennifer told me how much she had enjoyed our timeand would like to keep doing this. she asked i fi owuld be willing to compose a list of every one of my fetishes for us to explore so that she could prepare for other clients. i agreed, already listing them in my head. before i'd realizred it, rather than changing me back into my boxers she had put me intoa fresh diaper. i asked hr when hse'd like to see me again . .
hows tomorrow she asked swith a smile . . .i agreed to return at the same time with a full list . . . she walked me to the door, now with a slight bulge in my jeans from the diaper. . . i paused and turned to her . . .
jennifer, i said hesitantly, i need to know something . . . i like you . . . like really like you . . . not jsut because youre cool with my fetishes, but the person you are and the way you treat me . . . you know ive been hrut alot so can i just ask you, up front . . . are you only this way because we're doing therapy or do you, maybe, like me as well?
she smiled, hugged me, kissed my cheek gently and whispered: i wouldn't change just ANYONeS diapers . . .
she looked me in the face, slid my pacifier between my lips and told me to go finish my work . . . she couldnt wait for session number two . . .
and niether could i
end of chapter one