The Second Daddy

Article sent in by Lamby Dragon

For seventeen years, I had five other daddies before my current and permanent “family” I’m part of now.

My “Second Daddy” was among the remembered because he was a free spirit and professional photographer. His name was David A. (I won’t put his real name for obvious reasons) and he took mainly pictures of models over in Paris, but here in the US, right dead in the middle of one of the hoods in Brooklyn of all places, is where he owned and lived in one whole townhouse to himself, which was like four apartments in one if you took off the doors that closed the apartments off.

I should mention when retelling my stories, that I’m a sexual-based AB, but just simply messing my diaper can be just as good as anything sexual, for me these days. Who knew I could end up “diaper sexual” *giggles*!

Anyhow, the very first time I ever went to meet him, I had to leave NJ taking the path train to 33st (if I remember right), which puts you off right under the Manhattan Mall, which is right around the corner from Madison Square Garden (sounds luxurious, but it was an average late spring evening). So, I stand out in front, starting to worry that I was being stood up, then after about a half-hour, this tall white guy stopped in front of me, looking pretty closed to the pictures I’d seen.

Average guy, long hair, I forget his eyes but I’ll never forget his touch. Just taller than my 5’10” self, which if I had to guess, he was 6’2” if not slightly taller. He spotted me standing there (I’m sure looking like a lost twink at the time, made me stand out more than anything, I miss how much better my health was back then, all things considering).

He’d grabbed my hand and as we walked, I must have blushed about 50 shades of RED lol. I discovered my sexuality at the same time that I was learning who I was as an ABDL, so I just let my “daddy”, lead the way. When we got to his house (by the way, ALWAYS meet people in a public setting, no matter what. I’ve done some pretty dumb things in my pursuit of happiness and fortunately God has been by my side).

When we had gotten to David’s house, I thought he lived in a townhouse apartment, so we walk into the first floor and there’s barely anything there, other than the kitchen and a barely furnished living room. We trip up to the second floor, it’s the “second” living room, which was furnished and even had a baby’s playpen that ultimately I was put into and I barely fit, but it worked. Towards the back of the room were a smaller kitchen and a bathroom with the white paw feet tube. The third floor was the business area, all sorts of tripods, pictures of local hood thugs in some very gay poses (hey, I didn’t judge) and a computer desk with most if not all of his work, including scrapbooks he’d shown me. Later I found out that he’d done a scrapbook of me, but it wasn’t something I could take with me when we parted.

Our first night together, we went back into the living room, took off our coats and had a conversation over soft drinks. Once we’d gotten more comfortable with each other, he grabbed me by the hand and lead me up to the fourth floor, which turned out to be his huge bedroom and believe it or not, the start of a nursery, in which he’d only had a changing table that had cuffs to secure you, spreading all four corners (later on during another visit, he’d gotten a crib as well).

I was diapered and dressed in a very thin yellow footed sleeper that smelled of fresh laundry detergent and had a cute little yellow chick on the front over the right breast. He grabbed my hand and guided me down each stair, one stair at a time, back to the living room, where we sat and watched “The Baby” (he had it, I’d heard about it from MANY other ABies, so I had to watch it). Once that was over, daddy took me back upstairs into his bedroom and laid me next to him, doing little things to get me turned on although I’d just about fell asleep in the playpen.

Next thing I know, I’m being turned over on my belly and had my diaper pulled down. Exciting to say the least, as it wasn’t my first, but I wish he would have been. Well lubed, I endured every long and somewhat painful stroke, as I was not in the practices of having something go back the opposite direction of how I poop lol.

After daddy gave me his “milk”, he re-diapered me up and went to the kitchen to grab something completely naked, of course. He comes back with a baby bottle full of strawberry “Pediasure”, which was what he called my “formula” and even after I found out that it’s not safe for an adult to drink it, I still thought it was amazing, but switched over to drinking strawberry milk, just in case. I fell asleep in daddies arms as I was getting close to sucking down my milking and although I was still conscious, I let him lay me down, tuck me in and rub my back until I was completely out.

I got tons more stories, most of which if it wasn’t for me either being there or having a collection of pictures, I wouldn’t believe any of it myself.

Thank you all for reading.

Lamby Dragon

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