DynamicsTaken from:  The Dynamic Story

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here is a story that begins at the end.



“Listen, Dexter, I’ve had dry spells before, but every single time I’ve always placed something on your desk that no one else could come up with,” Hank said into his cell phone as he sped down a back street, doing his best to avoid the traffic of early Saturday night.

“I suppose that’s true,” Dexter said, planting hope in Hank’s ear.  “Whenever the well has run dry before, it was always Hank Grayson, my most trusted writer, who made my cup runneth over again.  I’m just hoping that you’re not tailing another ridiculous fairy tale story like that guy who told you he was a real life vampire a couple years ago.”

“This one is nothing like that,” Hank said, turning onto Poplar Street and beginning to look for El Bandito’s Bar & Grille.  “I’m told this story is down to Earth, but has a twist I won’t see coming.”

Hank could hear his boss sighing through the phone.

“Come on, Dex.  Let me tail this one,” Hank pleaded.  “By Monday morning, we could have the story line that would rival anything else – even if there were 1000 shades of gray to compete with.”

“Alright,” Dexter agreed.  “But before you meet this guy, tell me what you know about this amazing story he’s going to tell you.”

“I’ve been told that this story is dynamic,” Hank corrected.

“What is that supposed to mean?  What does dynamic mean?  You’re chasing after a dynamic story?”  Dexter asked.

“I have no idea what it means … yet,” Hank said, finding El Bandito’s Bar & Grille and pulling into the parking lot.  “But has anyone ever called a story dynamic that you know of?  Has any source ever called you and used that word to describe a lead?”

Dexter remained silent.

“Me neither,” Hank final replied as he parked his car and got out.  “And I think it’s worth the price of a few drinks to find out what it means.”

Dexter remained silent for a few more seconds.

“Alright, Hank,” Dexter finally said.  “If anyone can find a story that is dynamic, it’s definitely you.  What’s the guy’s name you’re meeting?”

“His name is Adam and I’m told he’ll be quite reluctant to say anything at all,” Hank answered, heading towards the entrance.

“Why?” Dexter asked.

“Well … apparently, this dynamic story he has to tell is a true story,” Hank replied, opening the entrance door.

“Bring me back one hell of a juicy tale,” Dexter said.

“I’ll do my best, Dex,” Hank said, hanging up his phone and walking into the Bar & Grille.

Hank walked in and directly over to the man sitting in the corner booth.  He seemed like an average, every day kinda guy.  Nothing stood out about him at all. 

“I take it you’re Adam,” Hank asked, sitting on the other side of the booth table as Adam nodded.  “My name is Hank Grayson.  I’m an author who also writes screen plays.  And I’ve been told that you have quite a story to tell … a dynamic story.”

The look on Adam’s face lost all expression.

“Now this all finally makes sense,” Adam replied.  “I was wondering why a screen writer wanted to talk to me so badly.”

“What do you mean?” Hank asked.  “I’m told you have a good story to tell.  That’s all.”

“You want me to talk about Eve, don’t you?” Adam asked with reservation.

“I have no idea what this story is about or who it is about, only that I’m to ask you about it,” Hank replied.

“Who contacted you?” Adam asked.

“I can’t reveal my source to you,” Hank said, cautiously.  “And I won’t force you to tell me anything.  But I was told that you had a story to tell me that would be unlike anything I’ve ever heard.”

“My story may not be something worth listening to,” Adam said.

“And what makes you say that?” Hank asked honestly.

“Not everything ends the way you expect it to,” Adam admitted.  “And my story won’t end with a satisfying conclusion.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Hank said, opening his notebook and clicking his pen.  “It’s obvious you’ve got a story to tell and no matter how shocking it may be, I’ll be seated.  So don’t worry about me.  I have heard things that would probably shock you as well.  What I find often is that conclusions are sometimes lost because we’ve already drawn them in our minds before they happen.  So when something else happens instead of what we believe would, we’re left to place several dots at the end of the last sentence as opposed to that final period we had hoped for.  Maybe if you tell me this story, you’ll come to that final conclusion you’ve been looking for.”

“There’s nothing to look for,” Adam said coldly.

“Then you won’t be disappointed if you do find something,” Hank stated.

Adam sighed, leaning back as the waitress brought their drinks.

“What’s the harm in telling me?  Is it too painful to say?” Hank asked, getting no reply from Adam.  “Or is it too … dynamic … to talk about again?”

“Do you know what ABDL stands for?” Adam asked.

“Nope,” Hank replied, writing the four letters on the first page of his notebook.

“It’s a fetish that some relate to as a lifestyle or a mentality or the driving force behind each heartbeat,” Adam replied.

“Is that who this Eve girl was?”  Hank asked as Adam looked down at the table top. “What do the letters ABDL stand for?”

“It’s not what they stand for that matters,” Adam replied, still staring down at the table top.  “It’s what they mean to you as one half of something that you’re perfect for.”

“Then tell me what they mean to you,” Hank said.  “And let me rewrite the conclusion you never found.”

“You won’t need to rewrite anything,” Adam replied, folding his hands and placing them on the table top as he leaned forward.

“Why not?” Hank asked.

“Because I didn’t give you permission to,” Adam replied calmly, yet sharply.

Hank set his pen down and picked up his beer, leaning back and waiting.

“In my lifetime, short as it has been so far, there have been two points which have remained with me no matter where I went or what I did,” Adam began, choosing his words carefully.  “The point in time when I was happiest and the point in time when I fell in love more deeply than ever.”

“What was the difference between the two?” Hank asked.

“There was no difference between them.  They were one in the same … or so I thought,” Adam replied.  “I remember them both vividly, right down to every little detail of where I was and why I was there.  I often recall those two points in time when I was happiest and when I felt what I thought was the deepest love of my life.  I always think of them together, because they happened at the same moment.  This may or may not be a story that means anything to you.  But for me it was dynamic.”


It was a Saturday Morning in early autumn, but the weather seemed warmer and more beautiful than any I had seen at that time of the year.

The sunlight cascaded through the curtains of the bedroom windows, illuminating the truth of the matter that there were more pink-colored things in that bedroom than I had seen in life.  The silk draping down from the canopy bars above was pink.  The bed sheets were pink.  Even the carpeting in the room was pink.  Everything was pink.

The ceiling had a peak to it, giving the bedroom an ambiance of being large enough to hold all the dreams and fantasies two people could share in a lifetime.  Across the room were pink, heart-shaped boxes that were stacked up and filled with treasures that had been collected.  Behind a make-shift pink curtain, were a few more boxes filled with the treasures I had brought with me on this journey.

The television, sitting on the dresser along the wall in front of the bed, was turned off.  The remote was buried somewhere within the sea of blankets that had been shifted and re-shifted and displaced into a mound in the middle of the mattress.  It didn’t need to be found, not yet and not any time soon.

I looked to my right …

… and there she laid next to me in that bed, the angel at the end of my journey.  Her hair dangled down over her forehead and eyes in a tousled fashion indicative of the night she had just slept.  I brushed her hair back gently with my fingers, revealing the most beautiful eyes that would remain within my soul for the rest of my life.

Her face was tanned and without a blemish.  All I could see was the love inside the woman who lay before me. 

And she smiled as if she had never had a reason to do so before.  She was genuine and she was captivating.  She was the unattainable soul for which I had searched.  Words can’t do justice to describe the way she made me feel and our future seemed so endless with possibilities that “where to begin” wasn’t hard to figure out.  The answer was simple … “anywhere we wanted to”.

But our relationship had two-folds to it.  On one level, we were a guy and girl who had met in the most unlikely of manners.  On another level, we were a Daddy and a BabyGirl who may not have known what was to come, but knew that a connection would remain, beyond our genders and beyond the Daddy/BabyGirl Dynamic of Love that had brought us together.

Behind the gleaming white pacifier she had faithfully kept in her mouth all night was yet another smile being born as she shifted onto her back and stretched her limbs.  The crinkling of her diaper made it clear that she was in need of some “attention”.

I remember standing up and retrieving what I would need from the walk-in closet where she often would go during our phone calls.  She covered her face with her hands as her shyness mixed with her giddiness to create the BabyGirl mindset that had become her own.

Peeling back the blankets from her legs, I moved her to the center of the bed and eased her body to a relaxed state.  Thinking about the dynamic and talking about the dynamic were ways of having it in your life.  Ushering that dynamic into your reality made it something more than just what dreams and fantasies were made from.  It made it a part of who you would become for the rest of your life.

Yes, I changed her diaper and we went about our day, the first day of what would be the rest of our lives.

But I knew, right then and there, I had found happiness unlike anything I had felt before and I felt a love with such depth that I began to discover what the words “lifetime” and “forever” truly meant.


“Okay, hold up a minute,” Hank said, stopping Adam from continuing the story.  “Explain this connection you had with this girl.  I don’t understand the whole diapers and pacifier thing.”

“I don’t imagine you would understand it,” Adam replied.  “Not unless you’ve felt that kind of connection with someone.”

“Can you summarize it?” Hank asked.

“Nope,” Adam said, smiling as he mimicked Hank’s quick response from before.  “But thinking back on that first day now, I realize that the happiest point in my life and the point in which I felt the deepest love had only begun on that Saturday morning.  It all would grow, see trials along the way, see mountains crumble, see ocean waves crash, see miles and miles of highways, see clouds in the sky (from above in an airplane), see smiles, see tears, see laughter, see hardship, see accomplishment, see graduation, see sickness, see fights, hear goodbyes, feel loneliness, feel reconnection, feel growth, feel love again, feel forever, feel joy, feel pain, feel the dynamic, feel together, see sunrises and sunsets, take late night trips to nowhere, tempt fate with a camera at a Wal-Mart, learn more than we could imagine and rest assured that nothing would ever erase what had begun back on that Autumn Saturday morning … That’s the best summary I can give you.”

“This really is a dynamic story,” Hank said, writing as quickly as he could as Adam continued.

“The points in my life when I feel the happiest and deepest love are when I think back on all I have been blessed to be a part of, to have been invited into and to cherish in my heart forever,”  Adam said.  “Someone once gave me advice that, at the time, seemed trivial.  But now I understand what they meant.  They said: Follow your heart.  It will never lead you astray.  Love with all your heart and you will know happiness.  I found love and I found happiness and it is a glorious feeling to know where they both dwell. On a Road Well Traveled.”

“You want a shorter summary?” Adam asked.  “Somewhere in between Dreaming Minds and Dreaming Hearts, you discover that one thing …”

“What one thing?” Hank asked.

“I’ve heard it said the key to happiness comes down to just one thing and that one thing will be different for each individual,” Adam answered.  “In due time, we all discover what that means for each of us.  Sometimes, it can be revealed in the most unusual, yet most comforting of ways…”


I sat at the desk of a hotel room. But my head wasn’t thinking of work or of anything other than Eve.  And I was fixated on the angel asleep on the hotel bed across the room. 

As if fate and Lady Luck had struck a deal, that girl and I found each other.  We were perfect opposites – a Daddy and a BabyGirl.  How I got so lucky I only have theories to explain.  But whatever the reason, the one thing I knew for sure was that this was all real.  We were a couple and fast I was falling in love with her.

I remember just sitting there, looking over at her, asleep on the bed.  She was wearing nothing more than her diaper, a pink t-shirt and a pair of pink-n-white striped fuzzy socks.  She was beautiful, and the glow of the moonlit sky which peeked through the partially-drawn venetian blinds, mixed with the light shining out of the bathroom, gave that whole room the radiance of fantasy, magic and affection for the dreams we both harbored in our souls for the right moment and the right person with whom to share them.

I had known her about a month at this point.  We began as email-ers.  Then we moved to IM chats and straight into our first phone call in one night.  In a matter of no time, I visited her and now had returned for the second time, just five days later.

Looking back on it now, I can still only attempt to put to words how much the thought of her saturated my sense of being, captivated my days and nights, and how my life had seemingly changed, without any big ado, but rather as if it were naturally supposed to have happened right then.  My entire life before meeting her seemed as if it were all preparation for her arrival.  I had never really known love before her, at least not to the magnitude I felt it when consumed by her essence.

And there she laid, the BabyGirl whom I was supposed to meet, for whom I was supposed to fall in love with a swiftness that turned it into a need, rather than just a passion.

Her frame only covered a portion of one side of the bed and she had contorted her position to find maximum physical comfort while sleeping.  Unfortunately, she still hadn’t found that maximum comfort and she kept shifting.  

I studied her from across the hotel room, standing up and taking in the sight of her.  Her smoothly shaven legs jumped out at me first.  Her thighs, so tender and soft in appearance, made me follow their length to her knees, to her ankles and those silly, pinkish socks.  Oh my, how she loved the color pink.  She would have one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee.  Then she would flip over onto her back and bend both knees, joining her feet together at the soles.  It was all a part of that quest to find that perfect comfort.

Her skin was so tanned and so soft to touch.  It contrasted the gleaming white diaper wrapped around her waist and between. Directly above the diaper was more contrasting tanned skin as her tummy was showing thanks to the pink t-shirt having been shifted up her body during her many tosses and turns.  She had so many beautiful little features about her.  Beyond her personality and cheery smile and the way she carried herself was … her body and how she took care of it.  It showed a pride in how she looked and that reflected back to everything non-physical about her.

The pink t-shirt had this little bluish or purplish grape-looking cartoon character on it.  And he was smiling.  Why wouldn’t he be?  He was happily position on the shirt between her breasts.  I won’t go into detail about how they looked.  Some mental pictures about this story belong to me and me alone.  Let me simply say:  she was breath-taking.

Her arms were bent at the elbows, and in her present sleeping position, her hands drew up towards her face.  Her right hand I believe was stretched back and resting underneath the back of her neck.  Her left hand was balled up into a soft fist she nuzzled against the side of her face.  She looked adorable, resting like that.  And though they weren’t visible at that moment, her fingernails were often painted pink, too.  But I don’t believe they were painted on that day.

And then there was her hair, layered with that light brunette shade.  Its length went part way down her back and somehow, she managed to keep it all out of her face, regardless of the sleeping position she was experimenting with at that point.


“I had arrived at the hotel the afternoon of the day prior, conked almost immediately and remained asleep until a knock came at the door.  I got up and stumbled to the door, partially asleep still, but it was when I looked through the peep hole and saw her standing there that my heart began to race with happiness I would soon become accustomed to feeling at every first sight I had of her on each trip,” Adam recalled, pausing from the reflections of his story as the waitress brought them another round of drinks.  “I snapped fully awake and yanked the door open.  Before the doorknob had left my hand, we had embraced.  And before the door had latched itself shut again, that happiness had grown to a scorching desire to make the most of every minute I had with her.  I planted her to the wall, then on the bed and well … you get the idea.”

“Yeah, I do,” Hank replied.  “Keep telling me the story.”


I quietly walked up to the edge of the bed and sat down, putting my hand on the blanket aside of her and leaning forward to admire those tiny little features about her face you could only see when up close.  Each one of them made her unique, from her chiseled eyebrows I traced with my fingertips to those eyelids she touched off with the right shades of shadow for pinpoint outline to the eye-lined edges underneath her lashes which sharpened focus on her eyes to the calmed cheeks of her face I stroked gently.  She was a beautiful, beautiful girl.  And she was so relaxed at that moment, except for her lips, subconsciously searching for her pacifier which had fallen free a short while ago.

I followed the string that attached her pacifier to the collar of her pink shirt.  But the pacifier itself had slipped behind her neck and was being clasped by her right hand.  I looked over to the coffee table we had pushed up to the foot of the bed, hoping to find another one on it, but there wasn’t one there.

I smiled, taking a moment to reflect on the reason why there was a jigsaw puzzle of Cinderella sitting on that coffee table, completed and perfectly centered.  She spent a bit of time earlier that night, having put it together.  She lied on her belly on the bed and worked on that puzzle until it was done.  I remember crawling up behind her and kissing her cheek as I produced my camera, snapping a few shots of the two of us.

It was a sweet memory, but one that didn’t help me find another pacifier for her for the moment.  But as if the solution was always supposed to present itself when the time was right, she whimpered a bit and stretched her arms, allowing the pacifier to fall from her right hand.  I picked it up and returned it to her lips. 

She would twinge for a moment, like her muscles had tensed.  Then she relaxed her body once more as a big smile formed behind her pacifier.  With a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile, I placed my hand on her diapered front and then between her legs.  She wasn’t soaked yet, but had just made a stride closer to getting there.  I studied her face and thought: “What could she be dreaming about?”

What comfort she had, what security she must’ve been feeling, what peace of mind she must’ve been in and how wonderful it felt to give that to her, to help her reach that state of mind.

And then she opened her eyes, looking straight up at me as if she knew it was time to awaken and as if she wanted to see nothing more than me with first sight.

I gazed down at my BabyGirl and my mind flashed back to our last conversation we had before I left the weekend prior.


Adam leaned back, breaking from the reflections of the story again.

“I honestly didn’t know what would lie beyond that first meeting and weekend we shared together,” Adam said, smiling at the thought.  “But before we got that hotel room, I would visit her at her house the weekend before.  And I remember that Sunday night before I left, we were lying on her living room rug.  She looked up at me with the same question on her mind as I was thinking.”

“And what question was that?” Hank asked, beginning to be taken in by the story.

“I said to her: If there is a place for me here, I want to belong,” Adam stated.  “And her reply: Everything happens for a reason.

Hank smiled, beginning to see why his source had contacted him to meet Adam.

“So, the following weekend in that hotel room, her eyes gave me the answer, not just about the reasons for fate, but also … what that one thing was which brought me happiness,” Adam said.  “I smiled.  All I could do was smile.  It was the truth.  Anything more would’ve been too much.  Anything less would’ve been forgetful.  It was just … one … thing.  And it was all that I ever needed.”

Also read: A Tale of Dreaming Minds and Dreaming Hearts

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………………….. The HodgePodge Series 

The Dynamic Story From Sun Up to Sun Down Deja Vu Lucy BabyLove Climax  
Crimson Snake Eyes The Crinklebury Tales Sad girl holding a teddy bear
The Dynamic Story
From Sun Up to Sun Down: The ABDL 3-Way Experience
Johnny and the Princess
Deja Vu: Inamorata to Illuminati
Snake Eyes
The Crinklebury Tales
60 Degrees and Down the Crack
The ABDL Any Time Reader
Forever Young
A Girl Named Love




5 responses to “Dynamics

  1. Pingback: Dynamics (Part Two of Three) | zorroabdaddy.com

  2. Pingback: Dynamics (Part Three of Three) | zorroabdaddy.com

  3. Pingback: The Dynamic Story | zorroabdaddy.com

  4. Pingback: The HodgePodge Series | zorrodaddy.com

  5. Pingback: A Tale of Dreaming Minds and Dreaming Hearts | zorrodaddy.com

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