Hi.  My name is Paulie and I'm a diaperfur.  This is a journal of sorts.  I say 'of sorts' because I don't know why I'm writing this stuff down now.  I don't know why I'm introducing myself in the middle of part 2 of my diary.  Or journal...of sorts.  

	In my last entry, I recounted the story of the time that my parents put both my little brother Riley and I in diapers after our shared bed was soaked.  This is a bit of a continuation of that, a few years down the road.  

	You see, my brother was a very smart kid.  He was always a bit clever for his age.  He also had a great memory and could remember everything you ever told him.  This got me in a lot of hot water as he often wasn't able to distinguish what was personal information and what wasn't.  For instance, I once told him that I was jealous that he still got to be in diapers.  He was barely able to talk when I'd told him that yet he somehow remembered it.  I know this because when one of my friends mentioned he was a bedwetter during a sleepover, Riley immediately asked if that's why we were friends, quoting my words almost exactly.  In fact, that's a pretty good story to tell - let's do that.

	Kib was another wolf like me.  It was probably why we got along so well.  We'd known each other since we were in grade school although our parents claimed we knew other before that.  We both played the same sports on the playground, liked the same subjects, and ate the same types of foods.  Plus, our parents hung out every weekend for a game night so we saw each other out of school too.  

	When the 5th grade came along and all of our friends had been having sleepovers for years, I questioned why he had never stayed over or vice versa.  He avoided it for weeks, but  I was determined to find out why.  Eventually, with enough determination I got him to agree on the promise that I didn't laugh when I found out why he hadn't in the past.  I hadn't been fixated on it, instead focusing on the part where I got to hang out with my best buddy.

	Our interactions were more or less normal for the next week but I could sense a growing trepidation whenever he was reminded of it.  Both of our parents knew and had said yes, so I wasn't going to let him weasel out of it.

	When Saturday finally came around, Kib came escorted by his older teenage brother who had his arms full with different bags.  "Where do you want to put these," he asked me, seeming annoyed as I simply indicated to set them down.  He did so and immediately turned around to get back in the car to join his parents.  I remember thinking that I wished he would stay.  Reg always had fun games to play and never made us feel like we weren't mature enough to hang out with him.

	I asked Kib why he had so much stuff, wondering if he'd brought all the games he owned with him or something.  I started open a bag to investigate but he picked it up and started walking to my shared room.  Some of the bags were in fact filled with games which we proceeded to play.  I still have fond memories of the many console games that I could fill an entirely separate journal 'of sorts,' but that isn't the purpose of this story.

	As you might have surmised, the bags were filled with diapers, plastic pants, plastic sheets, and his own bedding so that he didn't need to sleep in our bed.  I wasn't the one to discover this, though.  Riley had emptied the bags looking for a toy to play with while we weren't paying attention.  That was when the dreaded question came, "why do you have diapers?" 

	What came next shouldn't be a surprise.  I opened the story with it, after all.  Cue bashful admission.  Cue embarrassing little brother line.  Everyone laughs.  Fade to black.

	Except that wasn't the end of this story.

	Riley had walked away, sensing the awkwardness that he'd caused.  It was palpable.  I couldn't even bring myself to knock his character off the stage in the game we were playing because I felt so bad for how it had gone down.  I could've died from shame.  

	"I don't like wearing them," Kib had said, trying to reestablish some form of communication. 

	"Neither do I!" I lied, a little too emphatically.  Perhaps I shouldn't have underestimated my friend to turn the tables.

	"So you do wear them?" he asked, sounding inquisitive and laying out bait in a way that I hadn't anticipated.

	"No!" I cried, growing more red by the second.  "I just..."  The moments passed and I could sense that he was reveling in how this was making me feel.  I let out a sigh to calm myself.  "I don't wear them.  It's just that Riley gets a lot of attention because he DOES.  Or did.  Sometimes he still does.  I shouldn't be saying this.  Look, it's annoying, okay?"

	"How do you mean?" he pressed, having dropped his controller.  He was facing me fully and wasn't letting my gaze escape his own.

	It was disconcerting.  I had never experienced someone so intent on hearing an answer from me before.  Even Mrs. Johnson in Math class asking why 'x' equaled 3 hadn't prepared me for this.

	I pulled deep from all my experience of my ten years of life and responded with my most profound "I don't know, man."

	He wasn't amused.

	So I went deeper and tried to think about it for once.  "So, in the mornings, my mom checks his diaper, right?  If he's wet, he gets bathed and carried around to calm him down because he doesn't like being put in them even when he needs them.  Then through the day, he gets checked and everything that comes with being in a diaper.  He gets a snack to calm him down if he has an accident in the day.  Then, at night, they tell him a story if he can't fall asleep in them.  Meanwhile, I'm over here begging for a soda or Basketball with Dad."

	The entire time I explained this, he just nodded and looked enthralled by what I was saying.  His response was something that I was unprepared for, though: "have you ever worn your brother's diapers?"

	My gut sank and I stammered over just how blunt he was being.  After recovering, I replied, "once, but it was to make him feel better about it.  Dad asked me to because he wet the bed and was blaming it on me."

	He tilted his head at me, "and how'd it feel?"

	"Dude...come on.  This is embarrassing." I said.  "Let's just go back to games."

	"No.  I want to know.  I might even tell you a secret if you tell me." he teased with a wry grin that he used whenever he had some juicy news.

	I was intrigued but I think that somewhere deep down, it was helping me to talk to someone about it as if it was normal.  He didn't hate me and he wasn't teasing me.  That meant a lot to me.

	"It felt good," I said, gauging his reaction.  I halfway expected him to berate me or laugh at me, but he seemed more annoyed that I was taking so long to answer.  "Dad carried me and gave me a bath.  And the baby powder smelled nice.  And I felt safe and loved.  It felt good."

	"But did you like...hump it?" he blurted out.

	I would've spit out what I was drinking if I had been drinking anything.  "What!?  No!" I denied, furiously.  We'd only recently started learning words like that and what they meant, but those feelings had certainly not been awakened in me.  It was weird enough thinking that you were supposed to hump someone else.  I'd never considered my weird obsession with diapers to be linked.

	"So...the secret is that I caught my brother with mine." he said, making sure that my brother wasn't in the room before whispering it to me.  I had no response as I was just confused and intrigued at the same time.  "I woke up in the night to use the bathroom and I saw his light was still on so I went to check on him.  His door was cracked and I saw him wearing one of my diapers.  Not a new one, either.  A soaked one.  I could smell it from the door.  The sound was really quiet but he was making all these strange noises while he kept rubbing his peepee...uh, penis through it."

	"But..." I started to say, struggling to come to terms with the realization.  After all, 'Reg' was a teenager.  He was further along in puberty than we were.  Maybe what I felt was more common than I thought.  But then I asked something that he hadn't considered, "do you think maybe he wets the bed too?  Maybe he just didn't want to take it off because he didn't want to waste it."

	He thought about it for a moment, "I don't think so.  They were the same type as mine and they didn't fit him very well.  He'd probably leak.  Plus, it was in my diaper pail the next morning.  I thought I was just going crazy when I started seeing extras, but I think he's been stealing them for a long time.  If mom and dad knew, he'd have his own." 

	My mind reeled and I wasn't sure what to think about it all.  I'd always sort of looked up to Reg because he was stronger than the rest of us and the oldest of the kids at the game nights which meant he was usually in charge.  This made me see him in a different light.  As boys often do, things are categorically labelled as either 'manly' or 'girly.'  It's just how we are as kids.  We don't understand that there's more to it than that.  That said, he did a complete shift from someone who was entirely manly to something many children refer to as a "sissy" where the person is a boy but they are now within the girly label.  Certainly ironic given our future encounters, but that's a story for another time.

 	"Do you...want to try that?" my friend asked, almost afraid of the answer that might come.  I sensed his hesitation and knew that I would make a similar shift in his mind as Reg had to me if I had agreed, so I shook my head.  

	To be honest, I wanted to understand why Reg had done it.  That said, I still felt like this was something different for me.  Pee was never something that enticed me.  I didn't like the smell.  While I liked how the diaper felt so much so that I still remember it to this day, I didn't think that I knew enough to risk my relationship with my friend over it.

	So I did what any sensible kid would.  I changed the subject.  The conversation was had.  We kept playing games for the rest of the day with our worst secrets out in the open.  We had lunch, then dinner and dessert.  We did our normal nighttime routines with an extra (Kib put on a diaper some time during a bathroom break and we couldn't even tell he was wearing it until it peeked out slightly while he was brushing his teeth).

	Riley slept in our parents room and Kib slept in mine on his spare futon that he'd brought with the extra plastic accessories.  And the night passed by peacefully.

	Not.

	Of course it didn't.  Are you crazy?  I was curious as heck.  In fact, I'd been curious as heck since we'd had the conversation.  Did you seriously think that I hadn't swiped one of his diapers while he had his bathroom break and hidden it in the bathroom where no one would find it?  This is not 'Paulie Talks About a Conversation He Once Had.'  This is a diaperfur story.

	I still remember the feel of my heart throbbing in my chest as I toddled into our garage wearing nothing but my briefs while I held the plastic undergarment.  "Why the garage?" you might ask.  Well because that was where we stored all the stuff that Riley said he 'didn't need' but occasionally did.  His changing table, baby toys, stuffed animals, and other things couldn't be thrown away but they couldn't be kept as constant reminders in the main house, either.

	I didn't even know what I was doing.  It was like the fantasy was playing out in my head, having been dwelled on all day.  I wasn't thinking.  I was just doing, like a child playing house...except there was no mom or dad...just a baby.

	The first step was the setup.  I brought out the training potty, sitting on it with my too-big butt and huffing like I'd seen my little brother do so many times as a toddler.  My briefs were around my ankles and I cried out, probably a bit too loud "I don't wanna use the potty!" and banged the ground.  

	I then did my best dad voice, trying to lower my voice to the deep register, saying "get to the corner, mister!"

	I harrumphed, sentencing myself to face the corner after pulling up my briefs.  Obviously, I hadn't learned my lesson, I surmised, still surly after my alotted 5 minutes in the corner.  I bent myself over and fake spanked myself.  My thumb found its way into my mouth and it was replaced by a pacifier that I'd had on standby.  Having no way to speak with the bulb lodged in my mouth, I simply imagined my father saying, "Alright.  No potty.  But that means you need to go back into your diapers."

	I shook my head frantically and I think a tear literally came to my eye (little psychopath that I was).  I stripped the briefs from around my waist and pulled them off completely, unfolding the diaper beneath me.  I judiciously sprayed baby powder all over my crotch and taped it up clumsily.  As soon as it was on, I whimpered, rushing over to the training potty.  In truth, I actually needed to pee.  I'd been holding it all day for this very moment and now that the diaper was on I started peeing myself before I actually even got to it, making it extra embarrassing as it had been my intention to cleanly make it there and properly pee into it with the diaper pulled down.  

	As clumsy as it was, the diaper held all the liquid without a leak despite the day's worth of soda, juice, and water that had flooded into it.  It was a half-accident.  I had planned on wearing the diaper.  I hadn't planned on peeing into it.  I wasn't ready for that.  It felt...strange.  Warm.  Comfortable.  As I sat there on the potty the strange squish felt good in a way that I wouldn't necessarily describe as sexual.  It just felt right to be in it.  I could almost feel the arms of my parents caressing me as I suckled on the pacifier and closed my eyes.  In fact, it was so comfortable that I nearly did fall asleep right then and there.  But then I'd be telling you another story.  Probably from a psychiatric ward somewhere for when my parents would've found me in that state.

	I got up and played with some of my brother's baby toys that I hadn't been allowed to play with in the past.  His building blocks, namely, but I also tried a few of the electronic light-up ones that taught you letters and stuff.  All the while, I faked the diaper checks to see if I was 'wet enough' to be changed.

	I don't know how long passed, but it was long enough that I needed to pee again.  I took this indication to mean that I needed to find a way to dispose of this thing since I didn't know if it would even survive a second wetting, especially with how heavy the first one had been.  I had no experience with these things, after all.

	Thankfully, I knew there were plastic bags and I was able to strip it off and toss it into the dumpster in the garage.  There were enough diapers in there from the periodic nighttime accidents that Riley had that I didn't think it would get noticed.  Especially since my parents probably knew that Kib wet the bed.  

	I put all of the objects away, a little dismayed that I wouldn't get to do this again for a long time, likely.  In all honesty, I probably should've bathed or showered considering that I'd been in a used diaper, but I was a kid - a boy, no less.  And I was tired.  If the thought would've crossed my mind, I probably would've dismissed it.  

	When I crawled into bed in my underwear, being careful not to wake up Kib with my sudden entrance, I felt a strange lump in my bed.  Pulling it out from beneath me, I noticed what it was and smiled down at my sleeping friend.  I'd had practice now.  It was only once, but it was enough that I knew what not to do this time.  I pulled down my briefs and sat on the diaper, pulling up the front of the diaper once I was satisfied.  Then I shivered, my junk retracting at the sudden feel of cold piss against it.  I growled and stripped the diaper off, tossing it at him.

	"Huh?  What the eff, man?" he groaned, tossing over in his sleep, revealing that he was completely naked.

	He hadn't sweetly given me a spare diaper.  He'd thrown his used one on my bed.

	And that's the story of how my best friend and I had our first interaction with diapers.  Little turd.