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.