Fruit Boys

****Warning, this story contains naughty scenes of young boys finding themselves, exploring each other, and sharing everything. There are gay boy on boy situations, there is diaper usage and piss play involved, there is love and loss, and I hope that you laugh and cry as much as I did. As always, this story belongs to me, the writer, and I ask that you contact me prior to posting it elsewhere, and of course should you wish to contact me about this, or any of my other dozens of stories, please feel free to do so at erich5748 at ymail.com. Please remember that Nifty is a free site, but requires our generous support to keep them going. I have had people ask me if they could give me money for what I wrote, and I will tell all that I told them, donate to Nifty instead, so that we all get to enjoy their amazing service, though I do appreciate the offer, so thanks to those who feel I am worthy of that. As always, I truly hope you enjoy.****

Hi there, my name is Dakota, I finally talked my social worker into allowing me to see a therapist. He thinks he understands all the reasons why I might want to see one, but he cannot truly understand the entire reasoning for it. I did not just lose my best friend that day, I lost my rock, the other half of my soul, but I cannot possibly tell him that, he is already a severe homophobe, and I know that for fact.

So, here I am, sitting in the waiting room, waiting to see the doctor who could hopefully, god, I hope so, help me to straighten things out in my head, the nightmares have been horrible, the day times have not been much better. I was sitting there, tears threatening to fall, when a boy maybe a year younger than me walked out, wiping tears from his eyes, he nodded to me, I nodded to him, I feel that I will probably be walking out, wiping the tears from my eyes too, and in a place like this, I suppose, there really is no shame in that. Just as the elevator doors closed, taking that boy away, my name was called, and I entered into the office.

I have no idea what I was expecting as I walked into that office, but it was not that. I mean, I have seen movies and shows that showed psychiatrists offices, and honestly, they always looked cold and uninviting, but this doctors office was far from that. We are on the top floor of a twenty floor office building, and there are large windows on two sides, he has lots of plants all around, the walls that remain are painted in warm and inviting colours, and all the furniture in the room looks super comfortable.

“Good afternoon Dakota, I hear from your social worker that you're the one to have requested to come see me.”

“Yeah, I don't think I'm coping too well, most days I wonder why I bother, but, I know what my friend would say to my killing myself, so, I asked to come see you instead.”

“I understand. I'm glad you took the initiative on that instead of attempting the unthinkable. He already told me why he thinks you're coming here, and though he hates bringing kids to see me, because I'm so much more expensive, he knows I'm the only one capable of helping you through your present situation. Now, why don't we go have a seat. You're welcome to choose the chair or the couch, whichever you prefer. If you choose the couch, you're welcome to kick off your shoes and lay back, and if you do so, I encourage you to close your eyes.”

“Thanks.” I said, and chose the couch, kicking off my shoes so that I can lay down like he suggested.

“So, Dakota, as you probably already know, my name is Dr. Foreman, but I prefer my patients to call me by name, so, feel free to call me, Drew.”

“Thanks Drew.”

“Next, I'm a therapist for the mind, I can help you with all the horrible thoughts rolling around in your head. I'm a grief and trauma therapist, but I also specialize in teen sexuality disorders, which is just a horrible way to say that no matter your sexual interests, I can assure you, I can help you with anything and everything that's flowing around in your head. So, no matter your sexuality or any odd desires you may wish to partake in, you may feel free to talk to me about them, and I'll happily help you to come to terms with who and what you are.

“And finally, nothing that you say to me will either shock me, or leave this office. Anything and everything you tell me is strictly between us, your social worker asked that I tell him everything, but he already knows I not only can't by law, but that I wouldn't anyway. Even if I liked the guy and thought he could handle anything, which I don't to either, I still wouldn't, but I assure you, that man's as backwards as they come, and if I ever hear of him abusing any of his charges because of his beliefs, he won't have a job. So, tell me, who was Peter?”

“Thanks. I appreciate you telling him nothing, because I know you're right. Peter, he was my best friend in the world, the only person who actually knew and understood me, and I knew and understood him.”

“And he died?”

“No, he was murdered, in cold blood, there was no reason for him to die, he shouldn't have.”

“No, you're so very right about that. I saw the news on that, it was a horrible thing his father did to him. Tell me, how does that make you feel?”

“So fucking angry. I wish I could find his dad, and make him feel a thousand times worse than he made both me and Peter feel, I wish I could kill him just like he killed us?”

“I understand your anger, in a situation such as this, most would think your feelings there are warranted. I want you to let go that anger and hatred though. It's eating you up, and does you no good.”

“How do I let go the one thing that's actually keeping me going?”

“Easy, you give it all to me. I can help you. Now, deep inside, who was Peter to you?”

“My best friend, my rock, my one and only, the other half to my soul.” I said, and I burst into tears.

“I suspected that. The reports in the news said that Peter's father killed him because he was gay. His dad caught you two, didn't he?”

“He wasn't supposed to. He threw me outta the house, I was still naked, I hit my head so hard I hadta be hospitalized for two days after, and woke up in the hospital. When I asked, I already knew deep down that Peter wouldn't have survived, and the nurse gently told me that no, the poor boy didn't make it out of the house alive, and that his dad's in jail. I cried so much, she tried to help, but, I just wanted to die. It's been a month already, and it's not getting better. They all told me that I'd get better. My social worker told me to suck it up and take it like a man, that we lose friends, and that that doesn't mean that we needta cry about it. I didn't lose my friend though, I lost my other half. I feel so empty inside.”

“I'm glad that at the very least, the news never reported that much, because I have no idea what your social worker or your foster family would've done. Now, you do understand, of course, that in no way was any of that your fault, right?”

“No, it's not our fault that we loved each other, we were both smart enough to know that, but we did know who and what his father was, so we made sure never to show anything of the nature around him. I never spent the night there when his dad was home, we almost never even were around when he was there, we hated him, he hated us, but, clearly he musta suspected something, because he told Peter that he was going away, and even though we waited 'til that night, he came in and said he knew it, grabbed me by my hair and dragged me from the house, then quite literally threw me out.”

“I'm glad that you know that being gay isn't your fault, because it's not. Can you tell me when you knew you were?”

“Actually, I don't think I can. I just think I always knew it.”

“Okay, and how did you and Peter become a couple?”

“It was all the way back in kindergarten. We were there for only a couple weeks and had already become friends. It was because of my need for wearing diapers that we got together I think, he knew, and it didn't bother him in the least, but he admitted that he wet the bed as well. He also admitted that his dad wouldn't give him diapers for his bed wetting, so he asked me if I'd diaper him up the first time we slept over together, and I agreed instantly. There's something wrong inside my head, I can't feel the needta pee at all, so I wear diapers twenty four seven, and the first night I was there, just before bed, I diapered him up, and he changed me, which I really liked, because my foster parents taught me how to change my own diapers before I even turned four, but I loved having someone else change me.

“Anyway, after that, every time we spent the night together, we diapered each other, and by half way through kindergarten, I think we were already fully boyfriends, and we lost our virginity to each other during that spring break. We knew, though, how everyone felt, we could already tell how dangerous what we shared was, so, we kept it very secret. Most of the time, when we spent the night together, it was in a tent in the woods, and honestly, the last three summers, that's where Peter lived almost full time, instead of living with his dad, which meant I spent a lot of time with him. Eventually Peter stopped wetting the bed, but that never stopped him from asking me to diaper him every night we spent together. He was a full on diaper lover, and even though we hadta be careful of how many we used, because I only get a certain amount, he'd often wear with me for a whole day too, and I loved him so much for it. Mind you, even if I could start using a toilet, I wouldn't any more.”

“Thanks for admitting that to me. You weren't fully naked the night you were caught, were you, and neither was Peter, was he, they never reported anything of the nature, but you were both diapered, weren't you?”

“Yes. Boy did his dad ever scream about that, but then, as you heard, I didn't hear anything more only seconds later. I never had the chance to even try and fight back. Not that I could've. I'm pretty scrawny, and not very strong, but his dad was neither, I never stood a chance, neither did Peter, who was even smaller and weaker than me.”

“Had you've fought back, you would've just died as well.”

“Yes, well, better to die fighting for the one you love than not. I wish I could've, if he hadta die, I would've much rathered go with him, both of us fighting for love. I never got the chance, though, like I said, it was brutal, I'd never felt pain like that in my life, and Peter and I liked to fist fuck each other.”

“No, you really do have a point there, but there was no point in two of you dying that night. Granted, there was no reason Peter needed to die that night either, but, as you already know, his father was a backwards, stupid man, and now you and Peter haveta pay, you for the rest of your life.”

“And I'll remember Peter for as long as I live, which, unless you can help me, might not be long. Like I said, I'm not coping well, no one understands, they all think I should just man up and accept it, but I can't, and furthermore, I don't wanna. We both swore that when and if we were caught, that we'd both go down fighting, I couldn't keep up my end of the bargain, I know it's not my fault, but still, he's dead, I'm not, how do I live, when I feel that I'm already dead inside?”

“I'm gonna ask you the same question my therapist asked me the first day I met him and I was in your position, does dying change anything, does it fix anything?”

“No, I guess not, but still, he's gone. You were in my position once?”

“And you're still here, and that's how we needta keep it. And yes, I was, and for exactly the same reasons too, right down to needing diapers and being gay.”

“Wow. How'd you do it?”

“Like my therapist helped me, so too shall I for you. Eventually I learned to love myself again, I found another lover, and eventually, I even had a son of my own, and found love truly worth dying for.”

“I truly hope you can help me, but even still, I just don't think you can. If you're anywhere near as gay as me, how'd you have a son?”

“I'll tell you that tale another day, for now, let's concentrate on you, okay. We have two hours, and it's gonna take very second of that for me to get started, but, I promise you, here and now, if I could do it, then so can you, but, just so that you also know, I have the scars to prove that you are far smarter than me.”

“Oh.” I said, I know exactly what that means.

“Exactly, I was in the hospital for more than a week, I was a hairs width from succeeding, and I screamed at the nurses and doctors for saving me, when all I wanted was to be with my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I think I know how you felt, I was so close to that, except I already had the spot in the river picked out, no one's ever survived it, I didn't feel that I would too, but knew what Peter would say to me if he could, so I hadta try.”

“I, for one, am glad. You'll be far easier to help than I was, because I'd already lost all will to live, you at least still have some. Not much, I can see and hear that, but I want you to promise not to do anything rash for at least the next few weeks. You're to come and see me three days a week for at least that long, okay.”

“Okay.” I said.

For almost the entire two hours, we talked, he made me tell him absolutely everything, and I do not think I stopped crying so much as once the entire time. By the time we were done, though, I honestly felt like a wrung out sponge. Drew warned me, though, that for the next few days, instead of getting better, that sometimes the nightmares might get worse as my mind starts to heal, and told me to keep a stiff upper lip, and that he will help as much as he possibly can.

Today is Monday, I have appointments on Wednesday and Friday as well, and then same next week, he says that I need the intensive therapy to get me back up and running properly again.

Well, the first week went well, I suppose you could say, I still feel like a wrung out sponge, but I think Drew is helping, because the nightmares are at least lessening a little, and he has made me talk out all my feelings, and there is now nothing that he does not know about me. The only problem is, I am still miserable, especially at home. I have been in the same foster home since I was little, I do not actually know when I started in care, nor why, my social worker has always evaded answering me when I asked him, usually telling me bullshit about how it is not important, even when once, two years ago, I yelled at him, saying that it is my right to know.

Anyway, I know that my foster family has no care whatsoever about me, I am there for nothing more than a pay cheque, and the less they see of me the better. I wish I had a family like another friend of mine has, he has been with them since he was little too, and they treat him like one of their own, and they actually really seem to love him, whereas mine barely tolerates my existence, and if it were not for the pay, you can bet I would not be there. Thankfully I order my diapers direct and bill to the ministry, otherwise I know they would not pay for them. They complain about buying my clothes, and I know they get money for that as well, so diapers would be way worse, I am certain of that.

Then the next week of intensive therapy slipped by as well, and if possible, it was actually harder on me than the first week was. I had two brutal nightmares, one was so bad it caused me to puke all over my bed. Boy was my foster mom not happy about that, but, in all fairness, I didn't care, and ended up hugging her tight as I bawled my eyes out. Even she showed some sympathy toward me, even she could tell how bad that was. Drew helped me that day, thankfully that morning I had an appointment with him, I told him everything, I remembered nearly every aspect of the dream, and he made me tell him absolutely everything.

After that, he did tell me how, even though he too is a gay baby boy diaper lover, that he has a son, that he found the gayest, most diaper loving female he could find, and without having sex, she impregnated herself with his seed, and nine months later, they had a baby girl, who she had agreed to keep, and six months later, they tried again, and this time they had a boy, who he kept, they actually thought it worked out perfectly, since they both wanted just one child, but the agreement had been, he keeps the boys, she keeps the girls, and after having their one each, they were both more than happy to shake hands and agree to never contact the other, since they are not related in any way, and he even told how his son knows this, that he is almost ten now, but has known why he has no mom since he was six and could understand, though he said he did not give him all the details, nor has he as of yet.

After damn near a month of three times a week intensive therapy, I am finally starting to feel better, at least I am no longer very nearly suicidal, but, I was just called to court for tomorrow, but Drew promised that he would be there with me. I know that I am going to have to tell most of what I have told Drew, but he says that I do not have to go into details, and that I should keep it is short and sweet as I can, and instead of saying anything about sex, say instead that we were being intimate the night his father caught us.

Well, court was miserable, I was made to relive the day that Peter died, they never asked for details, and I never said, nor did I say anything of diapers, and I cried pretty near the whole time, and I could not even look at Peter's dad in the least. As soon as we were done in the courtroom, Drew took me back to his office for another short session, knowing that I would need it, and boy did I.

Thankfully that was the only day that I had to go to court, and so I heard nothing else, until Drew told me the day after he was sentenced, thankfully to life in prison. I hope that my telling them that Peter had told me dozens of times how his dad had told him flat out that should he ever find out that Peter was gay, that he would cure him, even if it killed him. I have to admit, that day of hearing how Peter's dad will never get out of prison sure did release a lot of tension in me.

It was after that session that Drew moved me to just once a week, and now, thankfully, I am no longer having nightmares. I still dream, and I still miss my baby, but now, at least his killer has been punished. For only another month did I have to see Drew. We are on our last appointment.

“So, Dakota, how are you feeling now that you know that today will be your last official appointment with me?” Drew asked.

“So thankful that you were able to help me, but a little sad too, you're really the only person I even talk to now. Now I won't get that, and with summer having started just a few days ago, I doubt I'll even talk to another person for the next couple months at all. I'll miss you too, it's almost like we were friends, how much I've told you. Only Peter knew all that about me.”

“You're a great kid, and you should try being more outgoing. Even being a gay diaper wearer doesn't mean anything, you still can have friends you know.”

“Yeah, I know, but tell that to the others. As soon as they all find out, they avoid me like I have some serious contagious disease or something.”

“Yeah, I know, I dealt with the same things. I have an idea for you though?”

“What?” I said, sitting up fully and facing him.

“How would you feel about me taking you in?”

“Really, you mean it?”

“Yeah. Like I told you already, my son's almost ten, and he needs someone older to keep an eye on him, especially now that it's summer. During the school year I only work while he's in school, so that I'm home for him, but summer's no one's there for him, so I of course haveta pay someone to watch him. I don't mind that, I make more than enough money, but, still, he doesn't like that either. I think you two would be good for each other, you can watch out for each other, you can live somewhere where you can feel free to be who and what you are, because so am I, and I know and understand you, and you know and understand me too. We're both very much alike.”

“I.....I......I'd really like that, but, um, are you kinda wanting me, sexually?” I asked, and no, this does not turn me off, in the least.

“How would it make you feel if I did?” He grinned.

“Oh god, you have any idea how often I dreamed of a gay diapered daddy who'd daddy me like a good gay baby boy deserves?”

“Probably every bit as much as I did. However, no. I already have a boyfriend, and even if I didn't, honestly, the answer would still be no. You're just a little on the young side for me, by at least five years. The last time I enjoyed a boy your age, I was fourteen, and that will be the last time too.”

“Oh. Almost got my hopes up there.” I laughed, which, I might add, might just be the first time I have laughed since Peter died.

“Yeah, know how you feel. You have a beautiful laugh though. So, would you like to come live with us?”

“Oh yeah, but what about my social worker, the guy's a real shit bag, if he knows it's what I want, he'll just say no.”

“I know, which is why I don't go through him for anything. He and I don't see eye to eye on how to be a decent fucking human being. How that man's in the business of helping kids, when he clearly hates people, is beyond me. No, I go through his bosses instead, and honestly, I already made the requests, everything's been signed off, and all we need is your approval, and then signature if you agree, then I email it in, and you're in my care, simple as that.”

“What, really, where do I sign?” I say excitedly, which, again, might just be the first time since before Peter died.

He got out a folder, opened it up, and had me read through anything that was important, and then I happily signed it. Drew told me that it is not legally binding or anything, but because I am thirteen now, he feels that I should at least have a say in it and get to sign off on it, which I am happy for.

“So, outta curiosity, how do you feel your son's gonna feel about me being there, and about who and what I am?” I asked once he scanned and emailed everything in.

“He knows that I'm gay, and a diaper lover, but that I need them as well, has since he was little. However, so's he. Now, with that being said, he's never actually told me that he's truly, one hundred percent gay, nor a diaper lover, but I do know. He ended up inheriting my reason for needing diapers, and that was confirmed medically as well, not that he cared, because by the age of four, he refused to even try going pee on the potty like a big boy, and I don't think he's actually sat on the toilet once to even so much as try going pee. I had him poopy potty trained shortly after he was three, and he simply never tried to go pee, so, yes, I know he is. As for he being gay, well, I've seen it since he was four as well. When I taught him how to change his own soggy baby bum, let's just say he started going through a lot of lotion, and once, when he was five, I accidentally caught him, he forgot to close his door, and he was three fingers deep.”

“Nice, but it wasn't accidental, was it?” I giggled.

“Hell no, he forgot to close his door, and so, I enjoyed watching my beautiful gay baby boy pleasuring himself. He came four times before he finally finished, then taped up his baby diaper, he was still in Pampers then, and he sighed extra deep, patted his little baby diapered dinky, and said, 'That's a good gay baby Boy.' So, yeah, I know he knows, and I know he knows I know as well, but I'm not in any hurry to have him tell me either.”

“Nice, wish I coulda grown up like that. I mean, I've been lotioning myself just as well as that since probably then as well, but I knew what others would think, so I always made sure my door was closed, and I always put a chair under the door handle to prevent anyone from coming in, because my foster mom usedta do that, she'd just come right in without knocking or anything. Are you hoping that he and I'll become really good friends?”

“If that's how it works out, then I have no issues with it, and while you both need each other, no, that's not my full intentions. Just getting you a happy healthy home, where you can grow and flourish is my only real intention, but, if you and my son become more than just brothers as well, then I'll happily consider that a bonus. You're both very much alike in so many ways, except he's never had a true friend, even though he's not in any way shy or ashamed, much like you, the kids just won't go near him, and it makes him so sad that they just won't accept him.”

“Oh. I'm not usedta people being honest with me.”

“I know. In our house, however, honesty is a way of life. You never tell a lie, you say your feelings, you talk things out, and if there comes a time when you can't say something to protect someone or something, you still never lie, you just explain that you cannot say.”

“That's gonna take some getting usedta, I've pretty much hadta lie my entire life to protect myself.”

“I know. Outside our house, you haveta do so, outside our house you can't truly be who and what you are, for fear of discrimination, but, inside our house, be who and what you are, and don't be afraid to let it shine.”

“I think I'd really like that.”

“Good. Well, you were my last patient of the day, so, now I getta close up and we can head home. Now, the school you were in, are you attached to it in any way?” He asked as we were walking out, and as we got in his SUV and drove, we continued talking.

“Um, hell no.”

“Yeah, thought as much.”

“Why?”

“Because we live so far out of town, that the nearest school for you is a school that's almost an hours drive from here.”

“How far from here do you live?”

“We, now, remember, and almost forty minutes.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Wait 'til you see it. After all my troubles when I was your age, there was only one family member that'd have anything to do with me, and that was my grandpa. He blasted the entire rest of the family for shunning me the way they did, and so, wrote every last one of them outta his will, I was made his sole heir, and when he died shortly after I turned twenty, I inherited everything. Oh, the rest of the family fought that, and so, I sued them all even more, boy were they pissed, they all thought that I should get absolutely nothing, and that they should get everything, and now, they all have nothing at all, and none of them even live here at all any more. That was also the same year I finished school, I started university when I was fifteen, and became a doctor, as you clearly know. Anyway, he was really well off, owned twenty five acres of lake front orchards, and had a stunning house overlooking the Okanagan lake.

“When I was twenty five, we were in a wee bit of a recession, and the area had also suffered massive fires and growing issues, it was so hot that year, that my neighbor ended up selling his thirty acre farm to me for a fraction of what it was worth. His house was a tear down, though, and so, I tore it down, put in a large bunk house for temporary workers, put in even more trees, and now I have a just over fifty five acres of fruit trees. I just pay migrant workers to harvest the fruit when it's ready, and I have a guy who lives in the bunk house full time, and he takes care of pretty much all the lands for me, as well he manages all the workers when they start rolling into town and looking for work.

“The only downfall to where we live, is the distance it takes to get anywhere, but, honestly, I don't really mind that at all, the drive is quite nice, even in the winter, but there do come days where we can't truly travel, and I close my office to all but emergencies for all of January and February because of that.”

“Wow. Peter and I actually worked on a farm last summer picking apples, it paid really well, which is how I have any nice clothes at all, because if I want more than just bargain basement shit clothes, I hadta buy them myself. Same for Peter, because his dad gave him even less.”

“Yeah, hired a couple younger kids like you a few times over the years, you're always surprisingly hard little workers, but, considering some of the migrant workers I get, I always fear for their safety, so I always ensure that they're watched out for. My farm manager tries to ensure that we don't get any druggies or anything like that, but that's not always feasible, and really, as long as they do their work, what do we care, really.”

“Yeah, worked with a couple a really nasty ones last year, but there was always someone there watching over us, said he hadta protect us from some of the scum that were also working there, and we thanked him, because we agreed with him.”

“Yeah. I mean, if any of them actually did anything bad, they'd have been fired right into a police car, from a cannon, I assure you, which is why I rarely agree to hiring kids any more. Too bad, really, because I'd rather hire a hundred local kids than one migrant worker, but that's just not feasible either. I usually need at least forty, but preferably fifty people to collect all the fruit once it starts coming ripe, but sometimes it's a struggle just to get thirty.”

“Too bad, I know of at least two other kids in foster care who'd give almost anything to get a good job like that. I bet if you asked the ministry to give your name to every kid over twelve, that you'd probably end up with a hundred or more kids here, working for you.”

“We're just about to start hiring for the season, so, maybe I'll give it a shot, what have I got to lose, right.” He laughed.

“I know I sure woulda loved to come work for you. I can't imagine it'd be easy managing fifty kids like that though?”

“No, it'd probably be about as easy as herding cats, but then, the migrant workers are barely any better. Even with the fact that almost none of them have transportation of their own, and I feed and house them all, it's still hard to keep them all in line and working. Thankfully I have a good farm manager to take care of all that.”

“Yikes. How do you pay them then?”

“So, they pay me fifty dollars per day from their earnings for food and housing, but they get three good meals, and really nice housing. They get paid per kilogram of fruit, so, the harder they work, the more money they make. The cook I hire gets paid even better, and he's probably the most loved person on the farm, but boy does he ever do a damn good job and never goes over his food budget. Hell, at least once per day, we join the workers for food, and we always eat well. He does a great job, and has been our cook for six years already, this will be his seventh year with us, thankfully he agreed to come back again.”

“Awesome. If none of them have vehicles of their own, and they need things, how do they get it then?”

“I said almost none of them have transportation of their own, but some do, so they usually catch rides into town, or ask others to get them things, and they're welcome to ask the farm manager, or even me for things, and we'll get it and take it from their pay. If, however, they're caught bringing drugs or alcohol onto the property, they're ejected instantly, and they all know it.”

“Cool. So, what's their bunkhouse like then?”

“Think of it like a hotel, each person gets his own room, complete with bathroom, TV, and computer. Clearly everything's pretty near bolted down. The rooms are small though, pretty near only enough room for a bed, a dresser, a desk, a chair, and not much else. The bathrooms are equally small, but still have everything they need. They're actually surprisingly comfortable, and really not all that much smaller than my apartment was when I was going to school, but then I did need the kitchen as well, whereas these rooms do not. They also have a large lounge with lotsa games and whatnot for them to play, and then there's the dining hall and attached kitchen, which are both rather impressive. The damn thing cost me almost as much to build as the land cost me to buy, but it's already been paid off by five times at least.”

“Wow, and how many rooms do you have?”

“Fifty of those rooms for the workers, and then two really nice apartments for the farm manager and the cook. The farm managers apartment is the only one that has a kitchen, since he's the only one who needs it, since he lives there year round.”

“What's he do for the rest of the year then?”

“Believe me, there's still lots to do. He maintains the entire property, and my yard for me, which takes a lot of time, he tends to the trees to make sure they're all healthy and growing properly, and then, every year, sure as shit, at least a dozen bunk rooms needta be repaired.”

“So, he probably works really hard for let's say four months of the year, and then just reasonably for the rest!”

“That's probably pretty accurate, and he always takes pretty near all of December off and goes south. He has a place in Mexico somewhere, so he goes there. I pay him very well though, because he does an amazing job.”

“Awesome. So, what all do you grow then?”

“Apples, peaches, cherries, pears, apricots, and even grapes.”

“Wow, that's a lot.”

“Well, yeah, but I have a lot of land. Why do you think I need so many people to pick it all.”

“Fair enough. You don't haveta answer, but, how much do you figure you earn from all that?”

“No worries. By the time I finish paying everyone and for everything, I usually turn a profit of about a hundred to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, though there have been a few years here and there where I made way less, but still at least was in the plus. Then there's what I earn in my day job, even after paying for the building and everything, I probably make that again.”

“Holy fuck.” I gasped.

“Yeah, doing not so bad for myself, considering how and where I started.” He smiled.

“Yeah, no kidding. Wish I could go to school to do something.” I said sadly.

“Well, of course you can. You may still be classified as a foster child, only because it's easier that way than trying to adopt you, and this way the government still gives me money for you, not that I want it, so it all goes directly into your account, in fact, that's the banking information I put on the forms. With that all being said, though, you may be a foster child, but you're now, and forever more, shall be my son, I'm your dad, and that's just how it is.”

“You mean it, I have a daddy now?” I asked, and I admit, I burst into tears again.

“Absolutely Baby.”

“Thanks. You don't haveta gimme that money though, you need it to pay for me?”

“I most certainly do not. That's yours, I don't want it, and I won't hear any arguments about that either.”

“Fine, but thanks.”

“Not to mention, whatever you wanna do for schooling to become amazing at whatever you care to, I'll happily pay for as well.”

“Really?”

“Yes, what would you liketa be?”

“An architect.” That has been my biggest dream since I started the drafting and architecture course my school offered in grade seven.

“Nice, I'll make sure that's what you get then. How do you do in school?”

“I'm so bored every day, I wish they'd let me skip grades, but they won't. If they'd let me, I'd probably already be done. I was tutoring kids in grades ten, eleven, and twelve in both Math and English all this year, since it just seems so easy to me, and I can teach it really well. I even skipped the grade eight architecture and went right to ten, since it was an elective, they at least allowed me to do that, but it was too easy, so I already arranged to do the grade twelve next year. My school counselor told me that after next year, she wants me to challenge the grade twelve exams and complete high school, so that I could go to university, but, like I told her, I'm a foster kid, there's no further school for me, and she said to not worry about that, that she'd figure something out for me.”

“You and I are very much alike in that way, and my son's coming up on being exactly the same. He's almost ten, but if they'd let him, he'd already be in high school as well. He wantsta be an architect as well, and I bought him the CAD program last year so that he could start practicing, and he's already designed a few really cool buildings.”

“Wicked, I bet I can teach him lots, and I'd loveta have that program as well.”

“Well, the one I bought allows me to load it on up to four computers, so I'll happily load it onto one for you, and we just upgraded to the newest version as well.”

“Except, I don't have a computer.”

“Ah, but you do. You see, I've been planning this for a while now, I knew you'd say yes, and so, I already have at home everything you need, which is why we're not going to your old foster home to get anything, because like you clearly told me once during one of our talks, that you have absolutely nothing there. I was asking for that very reason, so that I knew what I needed to get you.”

“You did?”

“Yes. And we have the best internet connection possible, and I don't believe in putting blocks on things, so whatever you needta search, you can do so.”

“But, computers are expensive!”

“So, I make lots, and so too shall you.”

“What, how can I make money, I can't do anything?”

“Sure you can. Chores around the house, working the land with the farm manager, and then picking fruit in the summer, all those earn you money. My son's been doing that since he was eight. Every worker that comes is warned that if they even so much as touch him or speak to him in any unfit way, means that they better hope that the police can get to them in time. You'll be no different. He gets paid the same as all the other workers do, but, of course he doesn't haveta pay the daily living allowance, and nor would you. The rest of the chores and whatnot, there's a schedule that tells what needsta be done and when, and how much you get paid for doing so.

“But, here's the thing, I'm a huge asshole when it comes to being a man. If you take on a job, you do it to the best of your ability, you do it in a timely manner, and you don't complain, and if said job isn't done satisfactorily, then you simply don't get paid. You haveta be a man and do a mans work if you take on a mans job. Now, with that being said, almost nothing that you could possibly needta do should tax your body, only your mind, and as such, I expect great things from you.

“Same as my son, just because he's my son, doesn't mean he getsta shirk his responsibilities, same as every other employee. If he wants money, he knows what he needsta do, and that there's to be no complaining about it. I bought you everything you needed to get started, but, from here on out, when you want new or better, you haveta work for it, same as he does. I feed you, and house you, I buy you your basics, I tell you how much I spend on your clothes and other things, anything over and above that, you pay for. For instance, I cover three hundred per year for your clothes, two hundred for shoes, four hundred for electronics, and a couple hundred for other things. I cover all your diapers and diapering accessories, but if you want diaper doublers, or fun diaper accessories, then that's you, and if you want naughty toys, that's you as well. I usually buy clothes and other necessary things as gifts for gift giving occasions, and at least something fun too. My son actually pays for very little himself, finds that he doesn't usually need much more than I give to him, because he's very good about not breaking or wearing things out, since I've always taught him like this. He, like me, actually doesn't like a lot of flashy things, doesn't always need or want the newest and the best, we don't wear stupidly expensive clothing, as you can tell from my car, I don't drive a ridiculously expensive one, and all that. We get what we need, and only some of what we want.”

“Wow, you actually spend way more than my foster parents ever have on me, I probably won't need even that much.”

“No, that's right around what you need, I figure that a boy your age, and with as much as you're growing, that you'll easily go through that much clothing and shoes. And really, that covers only two pairs of shoes if you go with a decent quality while on sale, which, really, at your stage of growth, I'd be shocked if you weren't using that much. Even myself, I buy one pair at two hundred per year, but then, I've finished growing, so I just go with the best damn quality ones I can find on sale at that price range, but then, as you age, you do definitely need better quality shoes. I have never, in my life, even fathomed spending six hundred dollars for any pair of shoes like some stores sell, and I doubt very seriously are anywhere near as good or comfortable as the price suggests they should be.”

“Well, yeah, I've hadta get two pairs of shoes in the last year, but Wal-Mart usually has some in around the twenty to thirty dollar range, less if my foster mother could get away with it.”

“Yeah, and they're probably every bit as comfortable as a twenty to thirty dollar pair of shoes would be, nor will they be good for your feet. Trust me, the shoes I bought for you will be way more comfortable.”

“Oh, you already bought them?”

“Yes, absolutely everything you needed, my son and I've already bought for you. Your foster mom was able to give us all your sizes for everything.”

“Oh, so she knew before me?”

“Yes, this has been in the works for two weeks already, but it was only finalized yesterday, hence you moving today. I clearly asked that she not tell you anything, thankfully she didn't.”

“Oh, and your son knew too?”

“Of course, I wasn't gonna pretty much adopt a child without asking him his opinion first, that's a huge change to his life, and I couldn't do that without asking him first.”

“And, did you, you know, tell him anything about me?”

“No, of course not, other than to tell him that you're the same as me, which of course says everything he needed to know, but really, why would that bother you any at all, I told you all about him?”

“Fair enough, I suppose. It's just, well, I've spent a long time hiding who I was from everyone around me, that even still, it feels wrong to tell anyone anything.”

“Also fair enough, but remember, absolute, one hundred percent honesty in our house. No questions, no hesitations.”

“Thanks. So, since I'm gonna kinda have a brother now, what's his name?”

“Wondered when you were gonna ask.” He laughed. “His name's Yori.”

“That's different, never heard that one before.” I said.

“It's Celtic, and actually means horse. It's a really old name, and was supposed to mean strong like a horse, instead my Yori is stubborn like a mule, but then, the poor boy got that from me. Whatever you do, never tell him he's wrong until you have good proof and reasoning as to why he is, otherwise you'll never win an argument with him, but believe me, he's not stupid, if you can prove to him he's wrong, he'll thank you.”

“That's kinda funny, but, I'm kinda the same way, only, well, there was no point, because my foster parents were way worse. My foster mom believed in the most insanely stupid shit, and would hear nothing against it, even with overwhelming proof against it, and if I back talked her, I was sent to my room for questioning her. If she thought she could get away with it, I'm sure she woulda slapped my mouth clean off my face.”

“Yeah, I've met more than a few like her before, they're just too set in their ways and don't care to learn.”

“I call her stupid.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, no one's stupid, stupid is a bad word in my books.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Now, when we get home, and after you've met Yori, I want you to tell him who and what you are, who and what Peter was to you, even what happened to him. He deserves to know, and yes, I know he's not even ten yet, but he's strong enough to hear it. I don't protect him from things like that, and have taught him that monsters are very much real, but that they never look like the movies portray them, that often times they look just like a regular person, but that true monsters are the people who'll happily and willingly do harm to another living being, animal or human matters not to me.”

“Oh, okay, and yeah, I believe that monsters are exactly like you say. Does that mean that you don't eat meat then?”

“You'd almost think so with that philosophy, wouldn't you, but no, we do eat meat. However, the distinction lies in that the animals are treated and cared for well, and when it comes time to kill them, they are not needlessly hurt. Torturing an animal is the same as torturing a human, to me, which is why I'm also of the opinion that assisted suicide should be legal, because if a person is suffering needlessly, for whatever reason that may be, then it should be their call. That, however, truly is another topic altogether.”

“I'm of the same opinion, actually, and before I came to you, it's what I thought I needed as well.”

“I know, which is why that's a topic for another time, once you're more healed, because, trust me, you're not fully there yet.”

“I know. I still feel that same fear and depression, but at least it's maybe half a percent of what it was.”

“The hardest part is that first ninety percent, but that last ten percent takes the longest time, and there truly is only one cure, and that's time. Love does help with that though, so, given enough time and love, even those scars can heal.”

“Thanks to you, I actually believe that now.”

“You're welcome.”

We continued to talk lots more for the rest of the drive, and it is a very beautiful drive, we are going through a lot of mountain and farm land that truly is stunning. I do not know if you have ever been to the Okanagan Lake area, but it is stunningly beautiful, so much colour and beauty everywhere, fruit trees everywhere, grape vineyards almost as much, the lake of course is huge and beautiful, and sunlight galore. During the spring and summer months, we really do not get all the much rain, though it has been a little rainier lately than is normal, but no one really complains about that, well expect maybe the tourists, because we get hundreds of thousands of them.

Then we finally pulled into a driveway with a large gate blocking it off. Drew hit a button and it started to open. I cannot see the house yet, because as we drove in, I realized how long the driveway is and there are a lot of trees in the way. Then the house came into view, and holy shit, it is stunning.

The house really is not all that large, compared with some of the monstrous houses in the area, but it truly is beautiful, especially to an architecture freak like me. The house is painted white stucco, yet in a farmhouse style, which do not normally go together, but looks really nice. The front porch is large, and there are nice large stone columns holding the roof up. We head to the garage, which appears to be a four car one, and when we pull in, there is only one other vehicle in there, a large heavy duty truck.

“Well, Baby, Yori won't be home for at least half an hour, so, why don't I take you on the grand tour. Before we do so, though, I bet you need a soggy baby bum change, and I know I sure do, so, let's go do so, which means I'll show you to your bedroom.”

“Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Would you, you know, change me, I've missed that most of all these past couple months? Peter would change me so nicely every time we were together.”

“I suppose that depends on if you can behave yourself or not?”

“Yeah, I know you don't want me, I respect that, so I'll behave myself, especially if I getta have you change me every so often.”

“Yori's the same, most often he prefers to change himself, for the same reasons you do, but every so often he just wants the closeness of me changing him. Even I love that too, and I still let him change me every so often.”

“Oh, would you let me change you as well then if I promise to behave?”

“Yes, which means we can just go to my bedroom then, because I already have some of your baby diapers in there for when you wanted that, since I was certain you would as well.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Drew led the way to his bedroom, which is on the opposite end of the house from the garage, and I could not help myself but to admire the entire house as we pass through it. It really is very nice, and quite spacious as well. Drew's bedroom, however, is the nicest I have ever seen, as well as huge. The ceiling in his bedroom is peaked and at the very back of the house, the entire peaked back wall is all glass, looking over the beautifully landscaped back yard, and then the lake beyond it.

“Wow, the house has been great so far, but your bedroom, it's stunning. It looks like the lake's a long ways away, I know this side of the lake has lotsa cliffs, so, how high up are we anyway?”

“Thanks. It's about ten to twelve meters, depending upon the exact spot.”

“Wow, I love the glass safety wall though, that way no one can go over, but it doesn't obstruct the views.”

“Exactly why I put that in. I did that shortly after Yori was born, because I wanted for him to be able to enjoy the yard, but not haveta have me watching his every step, because I assure you, one wrong step over there, and it'll be your last.”

“I believe you, and if it didn't kill you, I'm sure you'd wish it would.”

“Exactly. Now, we're here to change soggy baby bums, so, would you like me to undress you as well?”

“Yes please.”

And so, Drew stepped forth and started stripping me of all my clothes. I no longer have any diaper shirts that fit me, so all I am wearing is my long tee shirt and a pair of larger fitting shorts to conceal my diapered state.

“You really are a beautiful baby boy.”

“I'm not beautiful.” I say shyly. There has only been one other person to call me beautiful, or any other such thing, otherwise no one ever says anything nice about me.

“Yes, you are. You're thirteen years old, you're about one and three quarter meters tall I figure, you're slim, yet you're already pretty toned, you have beautiful bright blonde hair, and even though it was died blue at one time not that long ago, the light blue that's still in there actually looks really good, and though I'm not normally a fan of the full shaved sides and back like you have, with the mop of hair on top, it actually suits you quite well. Your hair is also only slightly curly, which makes it look even better I think. You have a nicely shaped and fitting nose, you have beautiful bright red lips, and your eyes are nicely shaped and the brightest blue I've ever actually seen outside of cartoons. You also have an amazing little bum, which your diapers really do well to accentuate, but then, I am a baby bum lover, and when covered by a nice soggy diaper like yours is right now, it makes it even better for me.”

“Thanks.” I whispered. “I think you're really good looking as well.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” He smiled warmly to me, and he is.

He is probably close to twenty centimeters taller than I am, I am actually one hundred and seventy one centimeters tall myself, he is very slim and fit as well, he has dark brown wavy hair that he wears about seven or so centimeters long, but is styled nicely. He has really deep brown eyes to match his hair, he keeps himself well shaved, in fact I have never seen him with facial hair at all, and his nose also fits his face nicely. Even though I have not yet seen him undressed, I can already tell that he is strong as well, because his shirts cannot hide his muscles, and honestly, I have dreamed of him, quite a bit lately.

I laid down on the bed when urged to do so, and for the first time in forever that someone else is changing me, I can tell that I am not in the least hard. Granted, I have not had an erection so much as once since the day Peter died. Drew opened up my soggy diaper, and I am good and soggy, in fact I should have changed by now, because the diapers I get are the best I can afford with what I'm given as a budget, but they are not great.

“Very nice. How big does it get when hard?” Drew complimented.

“I don't know, twelve, maybe even thirteen centimeters now. It's been a few months since I measured last, and I haven't even gotten hard so much as once since Peter died.” I admitted, which is the first time I told Drew this.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I've met fully grown men who had barely any more than that. How thick is it?”

“About one and a half centimeters across, or somewhere between four and a half and five around now I guess.” Admitting this for some reason does not even embarrass me, but then, I have told Drew so many other things that really are so much more embarrassing than that.

“Very nice. You still have a few growing years left, and I think you're gonna be very well stocked once you do so. Are you telling me, though, that in pretty close to two months, you haven't gotten hard even once?”

“Thanks, but no.”

“You know that's not normal, right?”

“Yeah, guess I was just too depressed. The one and only person who I wanted to be hard for is gone. He usedta make soggy baby bum changes so amazing, I truly loved wearing and wetting my baby diapers for him, now it's just something I haveta do.”

“I hope that soon you let yourself get hard again, you needta start jacking off at least twice a day. I know how difficult it is, truly I do, but find your happiness again, before it's too late, okay.”

“Okay, I'll try.”

“Good. So, do you shave, or remove your hair somehow, or have you just simply not started growing it yet?”

“No, I shave, but only about once a month or so. I just did so again this morning.”

“I thought as much. As good a size as your big baby peepee and delicious looking balls are, I would've been shocked had you not started growing it yet. So, tell me, how much do you cum?”

“Normally ten to fifteen millilitres, but I was only ever good for one really good one, then I only just seeped out a tiny bit every other time after that, and I could go for maybe three more orgasms after my first, and seep out maybe a total of ten more, but it always wore me out, a lot, so usually only two good cums is all I'm truly good for.”

“Fuck, that's impressive.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, you, my gorgeous new son, are what some, myself included, call a fucking stud. You have an impressive package, and can cum a huge amount. Trust me, I've never met anyone who cums that much for their first, let alone how much you spew over a total of four orgasms. How long does it take you to have four orgasms?”

“Half hour, forty five minutes maybe, though the longest and most I ever managed was just about a year ago, shortly after I started cumming, I came thirteen times in just over two hours, and Peter loved every drop I could give him. He hadn't started yet, in fact he'd only started cumming a month and a half before he died, and he was delicious as well.”

“Fuck, I do miss being young. It'd take me four hours just to cum that many times, but I'd likely need an hour long breather half way between. I'm usually only good for two orgasms back to back, and I might, and only just might, be able to shoot five to eight millilitres total between those two, but if I waited only another two hours and tried to have another two orgasms, I doubt I'd squirt even half that amount again. Sure, it usedta be more, when I was younger, but nowhere near that much.”

“Oh. I wondered why Peter never managed to cum as much as me.”

“Yeah, you're special in that way as well.”

“I'm not special.”

“Oh yeah, you are, in so many ways, and never let anyone tell you differently.”

“Thanks.” I whispered again.

It was only another minute or so later that Drew had me wonderfully lotioned, creamed, powdered, and diapered up like I deserve and love, and the diaper he put me into is the thickest, most luxuriously soft diaper I have ever felt. I reached down and felt the buttery soft and smooth plastic, and just how thick it is, and it is amazing.

“Wow, this is the most amazing baby diaper I've ever felt.” I sighed deeply.

“Good. These are our ultra thick diapers for at home and for night, you and I get the same ones, only I'm in medium and you're in small, I special order them in, wait 'til you see the designs on them, they're true adult baby diapers, and hold something like five litres. Yori says he can't wait 'til he fits them as well, because they look so wondrously babyish, and they hold so much more. His diapers are good, don't get me wrong, but what he loves to do is wear one of his ultra thick diapers, with a doubler in it, and then one of your size diapers over top with another doubler in it as well, so that he can fill it out more, and fill it up even more.”

“Fuck, wish I could do that.” I groaned, I have read about quadruple diapering, but clearly have never gotten to experience it.

“Maybe this weekend. I'm sure it'd take absolutely no convincing on Yori's part to join you in doing so, but that's a weekend thing when we don't haveta go anywhere, because there's to be no wasting gloriously thick baby diapers in this house, so 'til it's so full it's nearly leaking, or maybe has started, then you never change.”

“What if I haveta go poopy on the potty though?”

“Shimmy it down those slim little hips of yours, and then ask for help to get it back into proper position.”

“Good.” I can feel myself grinning. “I trust we must haveta tape 'em up extra well too?”

“Of course.”

“And do you have any rules about wearing protective rubber or plastic panties over top of such a wonderfully thick baby diaper?”

“There's no rules concerning that, only firm suggestions.”

“Oh, there definitely should be, it should be mandatory.”

“I thought you might be like Yori and I in that thinking, so, I did order you a pair of cute pale purple, waterproof baby pants. They match the ones we already have as well, because we like the same things.”

“And yet Yori's never told you he's a full on diaper lover?” I asked, because wearing diapers like that screams I'm a diaper lover from the top of ones lungs.

“No, but I don't really think he thinks he needsta, and really, he doesn't, yet we both know how much he is anyway.”

“True. So, may I undress you as well and change you now?”

“Certainly Baby.”

Drew stood still for me so that I can undress him, and I am finally starting to get hard as I expose him in his beautiful soggy diapered glory.

“Well, I'm finally getting hard again, fuck, you're really hot.”

“Thanks, just remember to behave yourself.”

“I know, and I will, just thought you'd liketa know that.” I grin to him.

“Thanks.” He laughed, and by the time I had Drew lay down and I opened up his diaper to expose all that he has, I am fully hard.

“Wow, how big do you get, you've got lots more than Peter has, and even more than me?” I groaned.

“I don't get any bigger around usually, so what you see's what you get there, and I don't usually get that much longer. I just get hard, so you're really not all that far behind me. I'm roughly sixteen centimeters long and almost two and a half centimeters across at the widest, which puts me at roughly eleven centimeters around. I've certainly never had any complaints.”

“Fuck, I wouldn't complain either. Peter was always a little ashamed that I'm almost half a year younger than he was, but that I had a much larger dick, and how early and how much I could cum. I never complained, though, I loved him and what he had for me to play with, a lot.”

“That's good, and behave. The look you have right now says you'd jump me the second I got hard.”

“I am behaving, trust me, I know you don't want me like that, and though I can and will dream, I know how to behave, it comes from having to hide so fully, otherwise, trust me, there's at least half a dozen boys at school I'd have fucked in a heartbeat, and hundreds more I've seen. That's probably both the best and the worst thing about living in a very popular tourist area, man, we get some truly smoking hot boys and men here, and a lot of them had no shame on the beach. Fuck, last year, there was this ten year old boy that stripped right naked on the beach, like right next to Peter and I, then slipped into the smallest Speedo I've ever seen before, and played next to us for two hours just like that, and then stripped and changed back into his shorts, that were barely any better. Man we fucked so hard that night.”

“Yeah, hence the reason I rarely visit the beaches any more, too hard to control myself, but I do understand how you feel as well. Now, tape me up into my well deserved and ultra thick baby diaper please.”

“Okay.”

I grabbed Drew's diaper, opened it and slipped it under his upraised baby bum, grabbed the baby lotion and squirted lots in my hand, then rubbed it in nice and tender, making sure to get him fully coated, but not trying to make him hard. Once he was well lotioned, I creamed him up with the diaper rash cream just as well, and then sprinkled on lots of baby powder, just because. I then pulled up and taped on him nice and snugly his very nice baby diaper. They really are so soft and cute, they are so babyish, and Drew looks spectacular like this, and so I tell him so.

“Thanks, and thanks for the awesome diapering, you change soggy baby bums perfectly.”

“Thanks, I've had lotsa practice, but so do you.”

“Ditto.”

Just as we are about to leave the bedroom, I hear a young voice call out, “Daddy, I'm home.”