From: BillyzParents@no-spam.com Subject: STORY: LITTLE BILLY SIMPSON © ( M,F/m) Date: Tue, 15 Dec 1998 18:18:24 GMT Following is the introduction to our story, LITTLE BILLY SIMPSON. It will be posted in installments if readers indicate an interest. Please post comments to the group. Thanks for an interesting and entertaining newsgroup. __________ NOTE: This story is intended for readers 18 years of age and older who are interested in age regression, diapers, underwear, spanking, and incidental situations. It does not depict, nor does the author condone, the abuse of children. Terms applying to childhood (boy, lad, child, youth, youngster, etc.) denote characters who are 18 years of age or older. This is a work of fiction. No similarity to an actual situation or person, living or dead, is intended. __________ LITTLE BILLY SIMPSON The slender boy lay sprawled in front of the television on his belly, knees bent and feet in the air. Billy's dad had already given his bath and the youngster wore a pair of navy blue pj's; the blue and white pajama top featuring a popular animation character. The boy's white socks were tucked under the knit cuffs of the pajama bottoms. His smooth face, still pink from the bath, was propped in his hands and he was oblivious to anything other than the Friday evening episode of his favorite program which unfolded before him. Friday and Saturday evenings were his favorite times. He was allowed to stay up one hour past his normal bedtime of nine o'clock. Billy's parents believed that children needed plenty of rest. The fact that the dark haired lad was nineteen and a freshman at the local junior college was beside the point. He was their little boy and only child. That is exactly how they treated him. To be continued ... From: BillyzParents@no-spam.com Subject: STORY: LITTLE BILLY SIMPSON © Pt. 2 (M,F/m) Date: Wed, 16 Dec 1998 00:30:38 GMT NOTE: This story is intended for readers 18 years of age and older who are interested in age regression, diapers, underwear, spanking, and incidental situations. It does not depict, nor does the author condone, the abuse of children. Terms applying to childhood (boy, lad, child, youth, youngster, etc.) denote characters who are 18 years of age or older. This is a work of fiction. No similarity to an actual situation or person, living or dead, is intended. __________ Billy's mom, an attractive, young looking woman with deep brown eyes and hair to match, sat with her legs curled under her body on the ivory colored sofa reading the latest Grisham novel. Her girlish looks had once occasioned a comment from the heating and air conditioning service guy, questioning if she and Billy were brother and sister. Her husband sometimes affectionately teased her with the title "my little girl" and "my first child." In truth, the man was captivated by his wife's youthful charm and energy. They were both forty-three and more in love than when they had married just out of college, twenty-one years ago last week. Billy was a living monument to their love for each other and the only child, they were told, they would ever be able to have. "Mommy," Billy called during a commercial break, "I have to go number one." The boy was not allowed to use the bathroom by himself when he was at home. He was required to ask an adult to take him. "Okay, Honey. Jump up and Mommy will take you." Placing her book aside, his mother took his hand and led him to the bathroom just off the den. She closed the door and walked her son to the toilet, raising the lid. Positioning him in front of the bowl, the woman reached to either side of the boy's waist and tugged his pajamas and briefs down to his knees. She gently pulled back the foreskin and aimed his hairless penis with her own hand to avoid splashes. Billy stood still with his own arms at his sides, his mommy's arms encircling him, and peed when she told him. "Can I watch a video with you and Daddy after my show is over?" the boy inquired in his sweetest voice, while the last few drips of urine tinkled into the toilet and his mother gently shook his penis to avoid staining the white cotton underpants he wore during the daytime. Billy's mother turned him to face her and pulled his underwear into place, following them with his pajama pants, and tucked his shirt into the elastic waist. "Daddy did a good job getting all that nasty ol' hair off down here, didn't he?" she commented while patting his crotch, ignoring the boy's question. "Um huh," the boy responded in the affirmative, having forgotten his request for the time being. "My show!" he cried, as the commercials ended and the episode continued on the television in the other room. His mom opened the bathroom door and the boy dashed out to take his position in front of the wide television screen. The boy made no immediate effort to inform his mother that the show had ended. He glanced quickly around to discover her absorbed in reading and grinned to himself. He might get another thirty minutes if he were very quiet, he reasoned. But, within five minutes he was overcome with a childish urge to be noticed for his achievement of missing bedtime. Watching Mommy from the corner of his eye, he pointed the remote and surfed through several channels. The woman didn't disappoint him. She looked up from her book and saw the time projected in digital numerals at the top corner of the television screen. "Bedtime, Sweety," she said. "Mooommmy!" Billy whined, pleased that she'd noticed his five minute reprieve. "Can I stay up a little longer? Please?" Daddy stood up from the computer desk at the other end of the room where he'd been finishing up work from his office. The man walked to the sofa, standing behind it and placed his hands gently on his wife's shoulders. If Billy had gotten his dark good looks from his mother, he'd gotten his slender, well proportioned body from his father. The man was more muscular than his very boyish boy, but he could never deny his paternity, not that he had ever wanted to do so. He smiled down on his son. "I think some little boy has already stayed up past his bedtime," the man observed. "Only five minutes," the boy felt obliged to grin at his clandestine accomplishment of stretching the allotted time, even by so slight a margin. "Upstairs, Magic Boy!" his father ordered good-naturedly. Magic Boy was Billy's favorite nickname, bestowed after a theater visit to see Aladdin, when the boy had insisted on rubbing all the lamps in the house. In fact, some who knew the boy had commented that many of the boy's facial expressions reminded them of the famous character. "I want my three genie wishes!" the child pretended to whine, flashing a perfect white smile at his father and kicking his feet lightly against the floor. The boy had flipped onto his back and was propped on his elbows watching his parents. "I'll give you three genie wishes, Magic Boy," his daddy growled menacingly, rushing around the sofa and swooping down on the boy with hands extended. Billy tried to roll into a protective ball, but his father was too quick for him. Squeals of laughter erupted from the boy as the man tickled his belly and sides and feet. They rolled on the floor as Billy's mother laughed from her perch on the sofa. When the two settled down, Billy sat astride his father's stomach, knees on either side of the man's prone body, and yawned twice. "Bedtime," the man announced. Billy knew he meant it. "G'night, Mommy. I love you," the boy said, still yawning, as he walked to his mother and kissed her goodnight. Mommy and Daddy took turns bathing the boy and tucking him into bed at night. Fridays were Daddy's night. "That's a good boy." The man took the boy's hand and guided him to the stairs and up to his bedroom. Billy's bedroom was a young boy's paradise. The sturdy oak bunk beds sat at one end of the room, tucked into a small alcove which had been constructed for that purpose. On one side of the beds was a desk with a computer and on the other, built-in shelves and cabinets for storing toys and Billy's supplies. A large closet consumed the opposite side of the room. Thick carpet in Billy's favorite shade of blue covered the floor and the room's single window was draped in a pattern which featured the logo and mascot of the city's baseball team. Matching comforters and sheets covered both bunks. A television, used chiefly for video games, a chest of drawers, two matching toy chests, two chairs, and a small table completed the room. An assortment of toys, stuffed animals, and sports equipment were scattered around the space. All of these big boy items were Billy's special surprise when he graduated from high school. Up until that time, the room had been outfitted as a nursery and the boy had slept in a custom crib and was dressed on an oversized changing table. Those baby items had been moved into a spare bedroom down the hall and were only used when Billy was naughty or when some lessons had to be reinforced. Even though Billy had been allowed some minor big boy privileges in recognition of his graduation, he was put into diapers and plastic pants each night at bedtime; the small diaper pail which his parents emptied each morning was the only hold over in his room from nursery days. Daddy sat him on the bottom bunk -- the boy was not allowed to sleep on top -- and gathered his diaper supplies from the nearby cabinet. The man helped the drowsy boy lie back on the bed and pulled the pajama bottoms down the youngster's smooth legs and over his feet. Daddy tugged off his son's socks, following with his briefs. The boy was naked from the waist down, nearly hairless save for a fine down on his legs and with a flawless, creamy complexion, a neat tan line delineating the area most often covered by the youth's soccer shorts. When he looked at his son's angelic face, the man smiled to himself; the boy was already asleep. Pushing the boy's pj top up to give himself some working room, the man lifted the boys legs into the air and slipped a disposable diaper under his slim hips. The man powdered the boy's bottom, spreading his cheeks slightly to dust that tender area. He then lowered the boy's legs and rubbed a bit more of the sweetly scented talcum into his crotch. Both parents had agreed with the decision to refuse circumcision when Billy had been only a few days old. They were careful to keep the head of his penis clean and the child had never had even the most minor inflammation. Billy's daddy retracted the foreskin now and wiped it gently with a damp cloth. Involuntarily, the boy's penis stirred in his hand as if the small member had been awakened from a dream. Billy moaned dimly in his sleep. The man dried the area carefully and rolled the boy's hooded skin back into place. Daddy pulled the diaper up and fastened the tapes; he grunted to himself as he recalled the aggravation those damned tapes used to cause him before he got the hang of disposable diapers. Billy used to look as if he were wearing a plastic wastebasket liner when the man first starting diapering the boy. He was an expert diaperer now. The man slipped a pair of Gerber plastic pants over his son's well padded bottom and replaced the pajama pants. The man pulled back the covers of the full-sized bottom bunk and scooted his son into place, tucking him snugly in bed for the night. Daddy placed Billy's ragged plush toy puppy under his arm and kissed the boy's cheek. He flipped off the light, closed the door to just a crack and hurried to join his wife downstairs. Both of them would check on the boy during the night, but Daddy had diaper duty.