God Loves Us for Who We Are

"So no one told you life was gonna be..." Lydia picked up the phone before the familiar lyrics finished. The name on the screen told her that someone from her church was reaching out to her. She wasn't the most devout, but she paid her tithes and attended Sunday services every week at Saint Michael's. She had no idea why they would call her.

"Hello?" Her earrings chimed loudly as she pulled the phone to her ear.

"Lydia! Hello. It's Father Paul. How is your day going today?" She was surprised to hear from the priest and not a secretary. She had no idea what this could be about.

"Father Paul. Hello. Um, my day is fine. I was just finishing up some errands..."

"Finishing? Perfect! Listen, can you come to the church today? If you're finished, that's perfect. I'd really like to talk to you and I'm free now."

"Oh, Father. Um...listen, I'm a bit busy" Lydia did not particularly want to go to the church. She wasn't prepared. Far from it -- she should stay away from that place in particular.

"Nonsense. There's no time like the present. A good Christian is never too busy for her church. Especially when she's already done with her errands. I just want to talk about some service I think you could benefit from." Father Paul's voice was persuasive. He could be. He had a way about him. Maybe this would be quick.

"Okay, Father. I'll be there in a few. I can't stay long." She hung up the phone before he could convince her to stay longer. She really couldn't sit down and chat. Reluctantly, she turned her car toward the small church.

Lydia wasn't known as much of a joiner at her church. In fact, she deliberately kept her distance. Not that she didn't love her church, her fellow parishioners, or her priest. Well, she probably loved the handsome young priest a bit too much. No, it was because Lydia held a bit of a secret that she didn't think the church would approve of.

She wasn't a murderer or anything. Nothing so dramatic as all that. Lydia just loved....diapers. Rather taboo for someone her age, but there it was. She had always been fascinated by them, but recently had decided (one drunken night) to take the plunge and order herself some cute ones made specifically for people like her. That was a month ago. She'd been wearing them fairly often since they arrived in the mail. It gave her quite the thrill to feel the padding between her legs and under her bum. Maybe it was the naughtiness of wearing a diaper in public. But it thrilled her no less when she was alone at home. She'd taken to wearing them with pants at work, and those muffled the crinkle. If she was just running around town, like today, she wore a skirt. That gave her an extra thrill -- that maybe someone might notice or her skirt might ride up, exposing her secret. But still, she was embarrassed enough that she wore a pair of earrings that had a particularly loud set of bells. She hoped that it distracted from the sound coming from under her skirt. So far, no one had noticed. So far, she had been safe with her secret. But she was ill prepared for a one on one meeting.

Why diapers? Lydia didn't know. She didn't even know how it started. Porn, probably. She had probably seen it there first. It didn't matter. What mattered was that the subject intrigued her, slowly, and moreso as time went on. What started out as a curiosity became an obsession. Maybe it was a desire to be taken care of; to go back to a time when things were simpler and she was less stressed. All she knew was that the feeling of the padding between her legs felt amazing. The feeling of wearing something she shouldn't be turned her on. She felt freer. In fact, she wanted to take things a step further. In her deepest of fantasies, she was *using* those diapers she wore. She wanted to feel the wetness of her own shame against her skin. She deeply desired to feel the heaviness between her legs of a full diaper. And maybe? Maybe someone to care enough to clean her up and change her; someone to take charge of the most basic of her needs. She often found herself masturbating while wearing her diapers; one hand down the front of them, and the other to her mouth -- sucking her thumb as she hadn't done since she was a small child.

Lydia shook her head, physically trying to shake the thoughts from her mind. The sound of her earrings helped her to focus. She needed to keep her head about her. Now at the church, Lydia parked and carefully got out of her car. With every step, she tried to decide if the crinkle of her diapers could be heard over the sound of the bells she wore. She didn't think any sound came through. She would just have to make sure she moved her head every time she shifted.

Entering the church, Father Paul greeted her just inside the door.

"Come, my child. Let's talk in my office. I know you're in a rush." Father Paul left no room for dissent as he guided her by the elbow through the church's office and into his private one. Before she really knew what was happening, he had closed the door behind them. The silence was rather exquisite. Not that there were many people in the church, but the sound was completely cut off when he closed the doors. Lydia had never been alone with the priest in his private office. She had never been not alone in his private office either, for that matter. Suddenly she was very aware of just how handsome Father Paul was. Her mouth went very dry as she looked at him.

He handed her a glass of water. In her surprised state, she automatically took the glass and raised it to her lips. The water was cool and quenching. Lydia took a few large swallows before she realized what she was doing. Now was not the time to be drinking water! She realized it had been a few hours since she had used the restroom. All at once she was very aware of the growing ache inside her. Lydia had to...go. She blushed, hoping Father Paul wouldn't see it.

"I wanted to talk to you about service" the father began. "We all know the blessings that God have provided us. We have a duty to share that with others. " He looked at her; was he slightly smirking? She shifted her weight, nodding her head to cover the noise. She took another gulp as she gathered her thoughts.

Could he be talking about the silly bake sale that was coming up? She vaguely recalled something about a bake sale and volunteering from last Sunday. He started to steer her toward the couch, motioning for her to sit. And to drink some more. She did, carefully, both of those things. He sat next to her on the couch, his knee slightly touching hers. She could smell his aftershave. He smelled divine, if you'll pardon the bad joke. She squirmed a little, feeling a bit embarrassed about being so close to someone she knew she shouldn't find so attractive.

"Some of us have a little bit more of an obligation to serve our community than others." Oh no, he was definitely talking about the stupid bake sale. She didn't have the time to bake, much less man a table and sell everything.

"You know, God loves all of his children, not just the most saintly of us. And God made each and every one of us in his image. Do you know what that means, Lydia?" Father Paul set his hand down on her knee, on top of her skirt. She almost wished it was on the bare skin that felt like it was on fire. Lydia squirmed again, starting to get wet between being so close to the handsome priest and the deliciously naughty feeling of wearing her diaper. In public. Next to her priest. Oh, this was too much. She downed the rest of her glass and didn't even think twice when he handed her another.

Father Paul wasn't like most priests. Well, in some ways he was. He went to seminary. He took his vows. He wore the collar. But when he swore to work in the service of God and community, he did so a little differently. You see, Father Paul had a gift. He believed, and believed devoutly, that this was a gift bestowed upon him by God.

The priest had grown up with extremely liberal parents, and no religion to speak of. When he announced that he had a calling and was going to the Church, everyone was shocked. Father Paul had never felt more at home though, nor more "right" than when he was serving his congregation.

He knew the deepest desires of those he was around. He felt them. He shared them. They were the desires that were never fulfilled. The ones that drove someone to obsession. Most of these were sexual. Some were not, and those people he counseled. Desires that were dangerous to the owner or to others were the harder ones, but he didn't shy away from anything. If his parishioner couldn't be counseled, he found ways to make sure those people couldn't hurt anyone. He sadly had to set up a person or two to make sure they were kept far away from their prey. But the others? Oh, the others could be extremely fulfilling to help. The men were a bit tricky -- what with society's (and his church's) homophobia, he had to be very careful. Father Paul had no particular type. If someone desired him, he shared their desire. He had helped several men to live their truths. The women tended to be easier, at least if they were attracted to him.

When they weren't attracted to him, but had desires, he got them to look at him as a trusted co-conspirator. When they were attracted to him, he used that to help them become who they were truly meant to be. God makes no mistakes. It's the people who don't listen to Him. If God made you gay, you were gay. If god made you kinky, you were kinky. And if God made you like diapers, well then you were meant to wear them too.

Father Paul first noticed this desire after church a few weeks ago. Lydia had been standing in a group of people. Father Paul had been working toward helping another parishioner with their bondage desire. They had been ashamed, but the priest had counseled them through it before church with an amazing fuck after tying their arms behind their back, and cuffing their legs to restraints. That day, the sermon was on the bondage of the Hebrew slaves and how the trials had made them (and their faith) only stronger. Father Paul went over to the group he and Lydia were both standing in to make sure that his latest partner took the meaning of the sermon to heart. His parishioner was smiling. He was going to be okay. But someone else wasn't.

Father Paul felt like he needed to take care of someone...more like a caregiver than a priest. He felt suddenly in control, and very much in charge. He knew that there was a need, but what kind eluded him at the moment. He had a need to go to the bathroom, but not in a way that he was familiar with. He had just been to the restroom, so he knew that this was coming from outside of him. His gift would give him hints to what was needed to help the next person, but there was always some detective work involved. He would often find himself wandering the aisles of home improvement stores, or superstores, to see if he had a sudden need to pick something up. Always, his desire became the counterpart to whatever it was that was needed. If someone had a desire to submit, he had a desire to dominate. If someone had a desire for foot worship, he found himself wanting to get a pedicure. It was convenient, but sometimes tricky.

Over the next few weeks, Father Paul's desire grew. He found himself at the local superstore, standing in the children's section. He didn't feel like a child, and he didn't feel afraid, so that ruled out someone who wanted to prey on children, thank the Good Lord. No, what he wanted to do was to purchase some diapers, and put them on someone else. This was a new one for him. Not only that, but he wanted to purchase other supplies with the feeling that he would give them away. So they weren't for him, but he would be caring for someone else. But there were no children in the group that held the person who needed his help. So that must mean that someone wanted to be....no, not a child exactly, but like a child. As he left the aisle, he found himself getting aroused at the thought of taking care of someone. So it was a sexual fetish.

After some research he found a name for it: ABDL. Adult baby diaper lovers. They weren't all sexual, apparently, but for this person, it absolutely was. Some ABDLs were only adult babies. Some were diaper lovers. Some were both. The more he researched, the more he wanted to be involved in it all, so that must mean that whoever needed him was into all of it. And the poor thing must feel a huge amount of shame since he felt the calling at all.

But who was this coming from? There had been several people in that group. Father Paul had set up quick meetings with each of the people who were there. He felt no increase in his desire to tell him that it was anyone. Until today. Lydia was the last person he had contacted, and he was absolutely certain that it was her. He found her incredibly attractive, something that he hadn't felt before this. In fact, he was quite hard. If he was right, he hoped he could help her become who God wanted her to be, and to live that truth without shame.

So he spoke about the need for service at length. He was gearing up to telling her that he was obligated to help. More than that, he wanted to help. He now desired it. He took a risk, and laid his hand on her knee. "Do you know what that means, Lydia?"

Lydia felt like she was about to hyperventilate from being so close to this man. This...priest. This priest who happened to be a man. What was happening? She downed her water and stood up quickly. Too quickly, she realized, as she heard the crinkle of her diapers. He heard it too. She saw a look cross his face and cringed as his face lit up quickly before dropping into a mask of understanding and calm.

She ran. She ran to her car and drove recklessly home.

It was just over two weeks later when Father Paul had decided that enough was enough. His desires only grew, which meant that so did Lydia's obsession. It was a Saturday and he had been making house calls to some of the elderly of his congregation. He decided he needed to make one more.

Pulling up to Lydia's house, Father Paul didn't really know what he would say. But walking up the walkway, he knew he had no choice in the matter. His desire wouldn't let him turn around even if he had wanted to. It was a warm day and the inner door was open to the slight breeze. He could hear the tv going somewhere inside the house. He knocked on the aluminum of the screen door. The tv turned off and he could hear Lydia walking toward him. He heard her gasp before he saw her in the comparative darkness.

"F-father...what are you doing here?" She was obviously embarrassed still from their visit.

"Lydia, my child. I've come to see you. We need to talk, and I think you'll be better for what I have to say." Father Paul could see her face clearly now. She looked scared, suspicious, and then...resigned. But she let him in.

Stepping into her home, he closed the inner door behind him. No need for the neighbors to hear or see what he hoped was about to happen. As she walked toward her living room, he noticed a lack of a particular sound. "I thought...no. Nevermind. Go and get them, Lydia."

"I...get what, Father?" She wouldn't even look at him. She was staring at the floor and her cheeks were becoming red. She knew what he meant, he knew.

"Go and get them Lydia. Now." He sat down on her couch, the action leaving her no choice but to do as he said. It had been a long day for Father Paul and he hadn't had a chance to take care of any number of things. Two of which had been making themselves known since he decided to come to this house.

Father Paul sat patiently, for a time. Much longer than it should have taken. Still, he didn't move an inch. He strained to hear any noise from the other rooms, but after hearing a door close there was nothing. Finally, after about twenty minutes, he heard the click of a door opening, and the slow shuffle of someone reluctantly coming back.

Lydia walked into the room, head down. She didn't look up once. She carried with her a large bag that looked like a diaper bag disguised as a purse. He heard her sniffle. Standing quickly, he walked over to her and lifted her chin so he could see her face. It was covered in tears. Still, she wouldn't look at him, her eyes cast downward and to the side.

This wouldn't do. This was what he came here to help her with. "Oh, my child. Lydia." He pulled her to him, taking the bag from her and letting it drop to the floor. She was limp against him, and he held her. "Lydia, I see what is happening. I see you. Know that I did not come here to judge you. I came here to help you. God loves you, Lydia. God made you perfect and God does not make mistakes. Come." He took her hand, and led her over to the sturdy coffee table that was in the center of the room. Leaving her there, he went back for the bag.

He knelt down near the table, and started looking through everything. When Lydia looked like she was going to run away again, he held her with a look. "God loves you Lydia. And so do I. I'm here to help you." Finding what he was looking for, he spread the small blanket on the table. He stood and faced her. "When was the last time you wore one of these," he gestured to the diapers he had stacked next to the bag.

A tear fell down her cheek, and she opened her mouth, but shook her head instead.

"Was it at the church two weeks ago? Was that the last time?"

She nodded, but said nothing.

"I could have handled that better. My child, I am so sorry. Let me rectify that now. I want to put you in one of these." He knelt again, and took a diaper from the stack. Pulling it open, he then folded it in half, opened it again, and lightly kneaded the padding, fluffing it. He carefully laid it out. Standing again, he pulled Lydia to him, and turned her around so that her back faced him and she faced what was to come. "Look, Lydia. Look at it. I know that you desire to put one on. God put that desire in you. As God takes care of his children, I'm here to take care of you. Let me help you."

He could feel her start to shake. But she nodded. "Yes, Lydia?" She nodded again. "Good. This is to help you." He pulled a length of folded black silk from his pocket. Unfolding it, he reached around her so that she could see what he was doing. "Close your eyes, my child. Don't worry about anyone seeing or judging. Just feel, and know that what you feel is right. It's right for you, and it's right in the eyes of the Lord." He didn't know if she closed her eyes, but he brought the cloth over them and tied it behind her head. Father Paul turned her to face him, and made some slight adjustments to make sure she couldn't see anything.

Lydia was in the dark. Lydia was scared. But this man, this priest, this man of God...he made it so that she didn't have to think about it. She shook, yes, but in equal parts excitement and fear. She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him.

She felt the lightest of touches on her arm. He trailed his hands up along each arm, over her shoulders, and tantalizingly close to her breasts. She felt the fabric of her shirt lift slightly and the cooler air hit her skin as each button was undone. The fabric slid off her shoulders and down her arms before being taken away. She felt the priests' arms around her as he unhooked her bra, letting her breasts be free. Lydia shuffled forward a bit as there was a tug on the front of her jeans. The fabric pulled away from her stomach as the button was undone and the zipper pulled down. She reached out blindly and found the shoulder of Father Paul to steady herself on as he pushed her jeans down. He lifted first one leg, taking off her jeans, and then the other. The same thing repeated with her panties. She wore no socks and now stood naked before the priest.

"God brought you into this world naked, and unashamed. Trust in Him now. Be naked, and unashamed." His deep voice was reassuring to her. She nodded her head again. He brushed her hair back from her face and she leaned into the motion. Father Paul was in charge, and he knew what was best.