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SallyKAT

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  1. Hi! I wish I finished more stories too. I am trying to bring some of the older ones to a conclusion. I get stuck sometimes, and start a new one... : (
  2. MIL Chapter 7 Jane was waiting at Judy's favourite picnic spot near the lake in the park. She watched as Judy and her mother approached, looking trim and athletic as always. Between them was the slight figure of Tim, holding Judy's hand and with something else in his other hand. Judy had a picnic basket in her free hand, and a big coloured bag slung over her shoulder, while Sarah was lugging a couple of foldable chairs. 'Hi,' called Jane as they approached. She was wearing jeans too, and her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders and breasts. As the ladies approached, Jane could see that Tim was waddling rather than walking. The outline if a thick diaper was unmistakeable under his pants. Jane remembered Judy telling her she was sick of Tim's daytime accidents, and that she thought it was time he was diapered around the clock. She must have started that, Jane thought. 'Hi Jane,' said Judy as the party arrived at the picnic spot. 'Hullo, Jane,' said Sarah, putting down the chairs. 'You know Jane, honey, say hello,' prompted Judy, looking at Tim. 'Hi Jane,' he said shyly. 'Hi Tim,' said Jane brightly. She'd always been intrigued by Judy's marriage, and by Tim himself. He was in his twenties, but with his slight built, youthful features and short stature next to his tall wife and mother in law, and the way he was dressed now, he could pass for someone much younger. His jeans looked like pull up pants, Jane thought, and with his diaper, the smooth flattish bulge of his crotch looked no different to the female loins around him. His shoulder length hair looked lovely, and unless you knew otherwise, he could pass for a young girl. Jane saw that he was clutching a doll. 'Who's this, Tim?' she asked him, glancing at Jane and raising her eyebrows. 'Topsy,' Tim replied. 'I've just got her because Judy gave her to me.' 'Well, I'm sure she'll enjoy the picnic too,' said Jane. 'I'll help you with these chairs,' she added, turning to Sarah. 'There's a flat spot over here next to mine.' Soon, the women had the chairs set up. Tim sat on the grass next to Judy. Jane noticed that he carefully sat Topsy on the grass next to him. The women settled into their chairs and chatted while Tim sat quietly on the grass. After a few minutes, he looked up at Judy. 'Can I go the pond?' he asked. 'I'll take you in a minute, honey,' replied Judy,.'We don't want you falling in.' Jane was interested in the way the two interacted. The way Tim asked Judy if he could go to the pond not far away made him seem childlike, and Judy's answer was what you'd tell a child. Jane wondered if putting him in diapers had anything to do with the way they were with each other. It was odd, but in any case, he seemed very sweet and accepting, thought Judy. 'I'll take him,' she said on an impulse. 'Would you, Jane? Thanks,' said Judy. Jane stood up and took a few steps to where Tim was sitting. She found herself holding out her hand, as she would to her little nieces and nephews. Tim took her hand and got to his feet, picking up Topsy. Tim headed off immediately for the water's edge. 'Hold your horses!' said Jane, and had to walk quickly to keep up. When they reached the pond, Tim let go of Jane's hand, put down Topsy and reached into the water, splashing his hand around. 'Careful, sweetie, the edge is a bit soft,' Jane said. It was hard not to treat Tim as a child. He certainly behaved like one. Tim busied himself at the edge of the pond, while Jane sat watching him. He seemed quite oblivious to his bulky diaper, she thought, as he squatted and played. After a while, she looked back to see Judy and Sarah setting out the picnic lunch. 'I think lunch is ready,' Jane said. 'Time to go back.' She held out her hand again as Tim stood up. 'Wet,' he said. Jane laughed. 'Yes, honey, it's a pond,' she said. Tim looked oddly serious. 'I mean...' he said, looking at Jane. 'Oh,' said Jane. 'Have you, have you wet your diaper?' 'A bit,' said Tim, looking away. 'Let's go and tell Judy, OK?'' said Jane. Silently, Tim took her hand, and Jane led him, holding Topsy, back to Judy and Sarah. 'I think's he's wet his diaper.' said Jane when they reached the others. 'Oh, Tim,' said Judy. 'Come here, honey.' Judy put her hand to Tim's crotch and gently squeezed the diaper bulge. 'Yes, he has,' said Judy. 'I'll change him now, then we can enjoy lunch.' Judy reached out and gripped the waist of Tim's pants. 'Can't we go to the car?' asked Tim. 'No honey,' said Judy. 'There's just us here, and it won't take a minute. Jane, can you hand me Tim's diaper bag?' she asked. Diaper bag, thought Jane, handing Judy the big, coloured bag. He really is like a child. Tim didn't seem at all concerned about his modesty as Jane took off his pants, laid him back on a corner of the picnic blanket and changed his diaper. She couldn't help thinking how small his genitals looked, and wondered if Judy had removed his pubic hair. Soon, Tim was rediapered with his plastic pants and jeans, and they settled down to lunch as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. To be continued.
  3. Great first effort, Panther Cub. Keep going!
  4. MIL Chapter 6 'Mum, can you get a couple of deck chairs from the shed, please?' said Judy from the kitchen as they prepared to go to the park. 'Darling can you help mum please?' she added to Tim, who had followed her into the kitchen. In the living room, Sarah slid aside the big glass door to the back yard. Tim hurried from the kitchen and joined her. The shed was at one side of the large garden, and they had to walk through the clothesline with its drying garments to get to it. Judy had done a load of washing that morning, and on the line were Judy and Sarah's clothes as well as Tim's. Tim looked at his wife's briefs and Sarah's full briefs pegged onto the line. Between them, like a child's underoos, were his much smaller pair. It was the same with the three pairs of jeans on the line. Tim swallowed, and followed Mrs Evans beneath the clothing to the shed. 'Won't we need three chairs?' asked Tim as Mrs Evans unhooked two steamer chairs from their places on the walk of the shed. 'Judy only wants two,' replied Sarah. 'What about me?' asked Tim. Sarah laughed. 'You'll be too busy running around or sitting on the grass to want a chair. You were last time,' said Sarah. Tim remembered their last visit to the park. There had been a puppy there and he was running around with that, then he had sat on the grass to each lunch. Then he'd wet his pants, he recalled, but mentally changed the subject. Again, it wasn't worth arguing. 'OK,' said Tim. 'Here, I'll carry one,' he added, seeing Mrs Evans leaving the shed with two folding chairs. 'No, honey, they're awkward and a bit heavy. Why don't you bring that basket?' said Mrs Evans. Tim tried to reach a wicker basket hung high up near the roof of the shed. Sarah watched him and laughed. 'I'll get it, honey,' she said and reached over Tim's head to retrieve the basket, which she handed to him. I don't get a chair like them, they're too heavy for me to carry, and I can't even reach the basket that she gets easily, thought Tim. To add to his misery, he felt himself wetting his diaper. 'Take the basket to Judy, please,' said Sarah as she and Tim emerged from the shed. She headed for the car with the chairs. 'OK,' said Tim. He knew what to do, he thought. Why do they have to keep telling me what to do? 'Good boy,' said Judy, coming from the living room door. 'I was just coming out to get that.' She put her hand out for the basket, which Tim gave her. 'Thank you, honey,' Judy said. Tim stood looking at her for a moment. He could feel that his diaper was quite wet, but he was scared that Judy would be cross with him for slowing them down with another diaper change. 'What is it, honey?' asked Judy, as Tim stood uncertainly in front of her. She looked down at the smooth bulge of his crotch. There was no way of telling if he was wet or not, but Judy guessed. 'Do you need a diaper change honey? Already?' she asked. Tim nodded. 'Oh, Tim,' said Judy. 'Are you messy or just wet?' 'Wet,' said Tim, resenting Judy asking if he was messy too. He hardly ever messed his pants. 'You mean your diaper,' an unwelcome inner voice told him. 'OK,' said Judy. 'Let's change you. Mum!' she called to Sarah, 'Tim needs a change! I'll be there in a few minutes.' Sarah replied, and Judy led Tim into the living room. 'On the floor, darling. I've got a everything here,' said Judy. She quickly took off Tim's shoes and pants, then went to a large bag on the sofa while Tim sat down on the rug. 'What's that?' asked Tim. 'I haven't seen that before.' 'It's a diaper bag, Tim,' said Judy. 'For when we go out.' Tim was quiet. It made his wearing diapers sound as if it were going to continue. 'How many d..diapers are in there?' he asked. 'Depends how long we'll be. There are a couple in here - three,' she said, taking a diaper from the bag. 'Just for going to the park?' said Tim. 'Tim, please, stop chattering. You wet often and you might need three. Now lift your bottom, please,' said Judy. Tim complied. 'Oh, honey, you are a bit messy too,' Judy said. Tim was shocked. He had no idea. 'I didn't know.. ' he said. 'Shush, Tim, please,' said Judy. 'It doesn't matter. Just keep still while I wipe your bottom.' Tim was silent. How didn't he know that he'd done poo, he thought. Done... He tried to think of the grown up word for doing a poo, but couldn't. It was like wee wee. He'd tried earlier to think of the grownup word for that. He still couldn't. Not that it really mattered. Judy and Mrs Evans used the same words anyway. 'Tim, please don't touch your wee wee, it's not nice to do that,' said Judy, as if she'd read his thoughts. Tim had idly put his hand to his groin, and Judy moved it away as she sprinkled him with talc then taped up his fresh diaper. 'There, honey,' said Judy, pulling up Tim's elastic waisted denims. 'Now, if you wet or mess later, tell me or nana, OK?' 'Nana?' queried Tim. His nana had died a few years ago. Judy blushed. 'I meant mum, honey. If you wet or mess, tell me or my mum and we'll change you,' she said. Hence the diaper bag, thought Tim. It seemed like a significant step. Now, when they went out, she would take a diaper bag. That meant that he'd be diapered. It wasn't as if he needed them all the time. 'Judy,' he asked as they went to the car. 'Can I go back to big underpants when we get home?' He couldn't think of the proper word for them. 'We'll see, honey,' said Judy. 'I threw out a lot of those, they were so stained.' 'But I've still got some adult underpants haven't I?' he asked, pleased that he remembered the word 'adult' but worried about what Judy had said. 'I don't know, honey,' said Judy. 'At the moment, you need diapers.' 'Yes, but not all the time,' said Tim. He wasn't in diapers full time, he thought. Not like a baby. 'Tim, please, not now. We'll talk about this later. At the moment, I want to get you into the car, and get moving. We're meeting Jane at the park and we're late as it is. Now, hop in,' Judy said, holding open the rear door of her car. Tim climbed in. He wasn't back in diapers all the time, was he, he thought. They hadn't talked about that. He sat quietly, thinking about that, and about Jane being at the park. Jane was one of Judy's friends. He didn't want her to know he was wearing a diaper. Judy got into the driver's seat, next to Sarah. Before starting the car, she used her mobile phone to call Jane. 'We're just leaving,' she told Jane. 'Tim wet his diaper at the lest minute. Yes. See you soon.' 'Why did you tell her I'd wet my diaper?' asked Tim.'Why does she know?' 'Tim, she's my best friend, OK?' said Judy. 'Of course she knows. Now stop fussing.' Judy reached into the back seat and into the diaper bag on the seat next to Tim. 'Here,' she said, 'I've brought something to keep you company.' Judy took Topsy from the bag and handed her to Tim. Tim couldn't help smiling as he took the doll from Judy. Topsy had her diaper on too, so Tim didn't feel so different and alone. 'Thanks,' he said. Judy started the car and they were on their way. To be continued.
  5. MIL Chapter 5 'Wake up, Tim!' said Judy. Tim opened his eyes to see Judy standing next to the bed, already dressed. 'We let you sleep in a bit,' said Judy, putting a pair of jeans and a t shirt on the bed. 'We're off to the park this morning, remember?' she said. Tim mumbled something around the pacifier in his mouth. Judy laughed, then reached down and removed it, placing it on the bedside table. 'What was that, honey?' she asked, smiling st him. 'I said 'Yes'', he said.'You told me yesterday,' he replied. 'That's right,' said Judy. 'Mum's made lunch. She said you were quite good for her last night,' she added. 'Of course I was,' said Tim, a little crossly. He didn't want to give either of them any reason to go on with this treating him like a child. He swung his legs out of the bed, and stood up. He was wearing long flannel pyjamas, as he usually did, but feeling the sagging weight of his wet diaper brought back the whole child thing again. 'Let's get that wet diaper off, then you can hop into the shower,' said Judy, reaching for the waist of Tim's pyjama pants. 'I can do it,' said Tim, brushing her hand away. 'Alright, Mr Independent,' said Judy, 'But don't dawdle. We'll go as soon as you're diapered and dressed.' 'I don't need a diaper,' said Tim. 'It's not far and there are toilets there.' 'Tim,' said Judy. 'We've been through this. You've had too many daytime accidents recently for me to trust you on that. Now come on, into the shower. Quick sticks.' Tim turned to his wife. 'Judy...' he said. 'Tim, for heaven's sake,' said Judy, reaching down and pulling down his pyjama pants before he could stop her. He couldn't do anything else but step out of the pants around his ankles. 'Now, on the bed,' said Judy, guiding him onto the bed. Tim felt cross. His plan to be nothing but adult all day wasn't really working. He sat on the bed and laid back. Judy quickly untaped his wet diaper, folding it up and putting it aside as Tim stood up, feeling the cold air on his damp bottom and genitals. He put up his arms as Judy removed his pyjama top. 'Off you go,' she said, giving him a pat on his bare bottom. As Tim turned to go to the bathroom, his mother in law walked in. She was wearing her usual tight jeans and sweater. 'Hi Tim,' she said to her naked son in law. 'Judy, I'd like to borrow your red top if I could, please. It's a bit cool and it's warmer than this,' she said, crossing her arms and removing her green sweater to reveal the cream coloured bra supporting her large breasts. Tim stood staring at them. 'Shower please,Tim,' said Judy, going to the chest of drawers to find her red top. 'And don't forget to wash your wee wee properly.' Tim headed again to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. It was about the only place he got any privacy, he thought. Mrs Evans didn't seem to understand privacy, he thought, his or hers. Last time she stayed overnight, she'd walked into their bedroom in her panties and a bra, chatting to Judy as if there were no male in the room. She wore big, shiny, skin coloured panties, not like Judy's lacy, coloured bikini pants. But like Judy's they were flat and smooth across the front. Tim felt a little jealous, thinking of the puffy front of his underpants with his diaper underneath. He'd had a daytime diaper on yesterday, and the day before that too, he thought. It was hard to remember the last time Judy hadn't put him in one after his morning shower. Maybe three or four days ago, he thought. Then he remembered that the last time he'd worn grownup underwear, whenever that was, he'd wet his pants just after lunch. He'd been thinking of going to the bathroom, then it just happened, and he'd ended up diapered for the rest of the day. Today he wouldn't even get a chance to stay dry in grownup underpants. Judy had already decided for him. Not fair, thought Tim angrily. Then he began to pee on the bathroom floor. He grasped his genitals but couldn't stop and quickly got into the shower. He'd have to clean that up with the bathmat, he thought. He was just finishing his shower, including washing his privates properly, and was getting out of the glass cubicle when Judy walked in. She took his towel from the rail and stood ready to wrap it round him. 'Oh, Tim,' she said, noticing the puddle of pee on the floor. 'Try to be more careful. Look at this!'' 'I was going to clean it up,' said Tim. 'I'll do it later,' said Judy. 'Stand over here. Don't step in it.' Judy held the towel out for Tim and guided him around the puddle. Tim stood in front of Judy while she towelled him dry. 'Have you done poos yet?' she asked. 'No, but I don't need to,' said Tim. 'Anyway, I'm not going to mess my pants!' he added crossly. 'Well, I don't think we can be sure,' said Judy, squatting to dry Tim's legs. 'That was an accident,' said Tim, remembering the time a few weeks ago when Judy had taken ages in the supermarket and he couldn't help messing. 'Then we don't want another accident, do we?' asked Judy. 'Now sit on the toilet and try to do a poo, please.' Tim sat on the toilet while Judy shook out his towel and returned it to the rail. He managed a bowel movement almost immediately, and Judy watched while he wiped himself. 'Good boy,' she said. 'Now, show me your bottom.' Tim sighed loudly, turned away from her and bent over. 'All clean,' said Judy as Tim flushed the toilet. 'Now go back and wait in the bedroom. I'll clean up your mess on the floor.' 'At least I had a diaper on that other time,' Tim said lamely, trying to make the best of messing his pants. 'That last time, you mean,' said Judy, 'And that's exactly why you're in diapers. Now off you go.' She gave him another pat on the rump. It wasn't fair, he thought as he went back to the bedroom. He hardly ever messed his pants, or his diaper. He found Mrs Evans sitting at Judy's dressing table putting on lipstick. He'd given up trying to be modest in front of her, and sat on the bed next to his clothes. There was now a folded diaper and talc next to his jeans. Judy put her head around the bedroom door. 'Mum, Tim's peed on the bathroom floor. I'm just going to clean it up. Can you diaper him please?' she said. 'Sure,' said Mrs Evans, looking at Tim in the dressing table mirror. 'I'd like him in plastic pants too,' Judy said. 'Top shelf in the cupboard.' 'OK,' said Mrs Evans. Tim grimaced. He hated wearing plastic pants over his diaper. They made him feel like a baby. He only had them on if they went to the movies or something, not just for going out to the park for a little while. But he'd learned that complaining did no good. Mrs Evans finished applying her lipstick, smacking her lips together and standing up. 'OK, Tim' she said, unfolding the diaper and spreading it on the bed. 'Back you go.' Tim sat on the spread diaper and lay back. 'You should wear your diaper until you get into the shower,' said Mrs Evans, picking up the talc and twisting the top. 'It was an...' began Tim. 'I know,' said Mrs Evans. 'Legs apart.' Tim spread his legs as Mrs Evans dusted his groin with talc. She held up his penis between her thumb and forefinger and moved his tight little scrotum aside, liberally dusting his groin, then patted the area. She pushed his genitals downwards then pulled the diaper up between his legs and tugging the sides of the diaper tight around his hips, she attached the tapes. 'That's tight,' protested Tim. 'We don't want any leaks,' said Mrs Evans. 'Stand up, please.' Tim stood, and Mrs Evans went to the cupboard across the room and returned with a pair of plastic pants. Tim stood unhappily and stepped into the pants as Mrs Evans pulled them up to his waist. Tim felt trussed up in the tight diaper, and didn't even want to look at the plastic pants, Mrs Evans helped him into the yellow t shirt Judy had put out for him. Tim caught an image of himself in the dressing table mirror. He looked like a big toddler in his t shirt with the thick, plastic covered diaper below it. At least he'd have jeans on, he thought. 'Now these,' said Mrs Evans, holding out the jeans. Tim stepped into them and Mrs Evans pulled them up to his waist front and back. 'These aren't my jeans,' said Tim, looking down as Mrs Evans pulled them up. He put one hand to his crotch. The denim was quite thin, and the waist had a wide band of elastic and crinkled denim all around it. He felt the front with his fingers. He could see that there wasn't even a fly, just fake stitching for one. He couldn't even feel or see his wee wee. It was all smooth in front, just diaper and denim. He looked at Mrs Evans. 'They are your jeans, honey,' she said. 'Judy got them for you yesterday. Three pairs. I hope you thank her.' 'I will,' said Tim miserably, looking again in the mirror. He still looked toddlerish. 'There,' said Mrs Evans, pulling the hem of Tim's t shirt down around the bulk of his diaper. 'You look very smart.' That cheered Tim up a little. At least the t shirt covered up the elastic waist, even if he looked a bit chubby below that. 'All done,' said Judy, walking into the room. 'Oh, thanks mum,' she added, looking at Tim. 'Just his shoes and we're ready to go.' 'Thanks for the new pants,' said Tim. 'My pleasure, darling,' said Judy, going to Tim and giving him a kiss. 'You look great,' she added, brushing his shiny blonde hair aside and smiling at him. To be continued.
  6. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 12 Pete had been playing happily for ten minutes or so when Mrs Smith called from the kitchen that lunch was ready. He was finding the dolls very absorbing to play with. He'd found another doll about Topsy's size in the bottom of the basket, and he'd dressed her as well. He'd had Star Wars figures and other toys in the past, but these were different. You couldn't dress and undress Star Wars figures, except maybe take a helmet off. These were much more real. He'd called the other doll Erica because she'd had a diaper on too when he found her. He thought of Topsy as himself, because she of her blue nightie and panties and her blonde pony tail. He made them have conversations and walk around together. Very cool, he thought. He wondered if they'd fit into the dolls house in Erica's room, and if Mrs Smith would let him play in there. When Mrs Smith called, Pete looked up, and reluctantly stopped moving the dolls around. He headed towards the kitchen, and Mrs Smith laughed. 'What?' asked Pete. 'Nothing honey,' said Mrs Smith, still smiling. She'd just watched Pete crawl all the way across the living room floor, and she held out her hand to Pete as he reached the door to the kitchen. 'Ups a daisy,' she said, and helped Pete to his feet. She patted his crotch as she did so. Pete was still dry. 'Good boy,' she told Pete, who grinned at the praise. . Lunch was sandwiches followed by freshly baked scones. Pete was safe enough with sandwiches, thought Mrs Smith, but the scones had fresh cream and jam so she put his bib on from the start. He started to object but she assured him that it was 'only plain' and he stopped complaining. Topsy sat on the table as they ate. When they'd finished eating, Mrs Smith helped Pete from his chair and held his hand as the walked to the kitchen door. She let go of his hand, and he dropped to the floor and with Topsy in one hand, crawled back to his basket and dolls' clothes. Mrs Smith smiled again. He looked so pretty. She wondered what she'd look like with her lovely hair in pigtails rather than her ponytail. 'His ponytail', she corrected herself and laughed at her mental error. But it hardly mattered with Pete. The only difference between him and and adorable little girl was a few centimetres and the little dangling thing between his legs. Mrs Smith cleaned up the kitchen, then sat on the sofa to watch the TV news. Pete continued playing. He'd been finding TV or radio news increasingly boring, and this was no different, He sat happily until a sports announcer said 'Jason is 19 and will train with the national team on Thursday.' Pete sat still for a moment, then looked at Mrs Smith and began to cry. She knew the difference between a toddlers' faux tears, when they didn't get what they wanted, and real tears. Pete's tears were real. He was very upset, Mrs Smith could see, and she went to him and squatted next to him. 'He's 19,' Pete said, pointing at the TV screen. Mrs Smith hadn't seen the segment, and asked 'Who?' 'On TV,' Pete said through his sobs. 'He's 19 and he had a car and...' 'Hey,' said Mrs Smith. 'I bet he's not sitting in front of a lovely warm fire with nice things like you are,' she said. 'He just had shorts, no diaper,' said Pete. 'I'm 19,' he wailed. 'Oh Pete,' Mrs Smith said, helping him up on the couch next to her. '19 is just your age, Pete,' she said. 'You can be bigger or littler than your age. Lots of people are.' 'I'm littler,' said Pete, looking at his exposed diaper. 'Yes, you are, honey,' said Mrs Smith. 'But it's OK because you have me to look after you, and your sisters and mum at home.' 'I wasn't little before,' said Pete seriously. 'People change, Pete,' said Mrs Smith, 'Just like you have.' 'But I'm grownup,' said Pete. 'Don't need a diaper.' Pete began tugging at the elasticated hem of his plastic panty. 'You wet your pants this morning, Pete,' Mrs Smith reminded him. 'I'm grown up!' objected Pete. 'Oh Pete,' said Mrs Smith. Dry or not, it was time to take Pete upstairs and put him in one of Erica's onesies, so he couldn't interfere with his diaper. She held out her hand, which Pete rejected. He got to.his feet by himself, and with his legs slightly apart, stopped crying and stood still. He stared silently for a few moments at Mrs Smith who looked back in surprise, then Pete burst into fresh tears and wrapped his arms tightly around her torso. She recognised what had happened, and reached down to feel the new bulge at the back of Pete's diaper. 'I was grown up!' Pete wailed again as Mrs Smith stroked his back. She extracted himself from his embrace and felt the front of his diaper. He'd wet as well. 'Come on, precious,' she said to her big, sobbing toddler. 'You need your diaper changed.' To be continued.
  7. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 11 Mrs Smith relaxed while Pete suckled at her breast then fell asleep, his lips opening slightly and releasing her saliva covered nipple. She had one hand on the denim crotch of her jeans, her fingers slowly stroking her clitoris through the taut fabric. As she climaxed, the slow and slight bucking of her hips roused Pete, and Mrs Smith moved his head and rearranged her bra and clothing as Pete woke. 'I fell asleep,' he said. 'You did, honey,' Mrs Smith replied with a smile. 'I had a funny dream,' he said, looking at the large, sweater covered breast by his face. 'Did you honey?' asked Mrs Smith, still smiling. 'I think you need a change, baby,' she said quietly, cupping her hand over the front of Pete's soaked diaper. 'Ohh,' said Pete, putting his hand to the wet lump below his tummy. 'It's nothing to worry about,' Mrs Smith said. 'Let's pop back upstairs.' Pete didn't demur when Mrs Smith held out her hand to take him upstairs. They were quite steep, and apart from steadying him, he liked holding her hand. They arrived in the bathroom, and Pete went straight to the padded bench and stood next to it while Mrs Smith undressed him. He looked down at his hairless crotch, but it seemed quite normal now. He lay back in the bench while Mrs Smith wiped and diapered him. The diaper felt warm and really did relieve him of feeling anxious about wetting. 'What are those?' he asked Mrs Smith when she produced a garment he hadn't seen before. 'Just something waterproof in case you leak a little,' she said. 'You won't even know your wearing it, and it will make you even more secure.' 'Secure,' thought Pete. He liked that word. In fact, Mrs Smith and everything around her seemed to mean security. He'd always felt looked after at home, and now he felt secure here. 'Just sit here for a minute,' said Mrs Smith, and left the room. Pete sat on the bench in his diaper. He thought how lucky he was. Sometimes, when his mum put him in a diaper for a car trip, he hadn't wanted to take it off when they returned, because he always felt a little vulnerable until he was used to grown up underpants again. Even then, those were often damp when he took them off at night. 'Here we are,' said Mrs Smith, returning after a few minutes. What she had in her hand didn't look like much, thought. She also had Topsy, and Pete smiled. Topsy was dressed now. 'And a surprise,' said Mrs Smith. 'Topsy!' said Pete, and eagerly took the doll. 'She's like me!' he said, turning the doll around to look at the short hemmed pale blue top and puffy elasticated pants Topsy was wearing. He looked more closely at the pants, then lifted the hem of the little top and pulled the waist of the pants away. 'She's got a diaper on,' said Pete. 'That's right,' said Mrs Smith. 'Just like you. I told you it wasn't uncommon.' Pete smiled happily. 'Leg in,' said Mrs Smith, holding out the new pants. They had thin, soft pink cloth on the outside, but Pete could feel they were still soft but plasticky on the inside. 'Plastic,' he said to Mrs Smith. 'That's right,' said Mrs Smith. 'That's why they stop leaks and trickles. Erica wore them too.' it seemed like a good idea, thought Pete, and soon had them pulled up to his waist. 'Arms up,' said Mrs Smith, and pulled a longish top over Pete's head and arms. Then she flicked Pete's pony tail from under the top. 'Now it's lunchtime,' said Mrs Smith. 'Let's go.' 'What about pants?' asked Pete. 'You've got pants on,' laughed Mrs Smith. 'Around the house, those are all you'll need.' 'OK,' said Pete, looking down at the thick pink bulk below the big loose t-shirt. They were sort of like shorts, he thought. They left the bathroom and when they got to the stairs, Pete was surprised to see a white wooden barricade across the top step. 'What's that?' he asked. 'It's just a little fence in case you have another fall on the steps. I don't want you tackling them by yourself at the moment,' said Mrs Smith. 'It opens up, but it's a bit tricky, so if you are up here and you want to go downstairs, just ask me and I'll come and help you. I'll hear you perfectly well, even if I'm downstairs.' Pete looked at the little white fence. It did seem a good idea. Mrs Smith really was looking after him, he thought. Mrs Smith twisted and turned a latch at one side of the fence, and swung it open. She led Pete onto the first step and turned to shut the gate. Pete took another step down. Mrs Smith looked even taller. Pete was only five feet four. He'd hoped to grow taller, but it seemed he'd reached his full height. He didn't really mind being small. On the plane, he'd had plenty of room, and though he heard one of the women in the cabin crew of one of his flights ask another crew member if he was an unaccompanied child, he didn't mind. The payoff was not needing as much room as some of the big men cramped into their seats. When they reached the living room, Mrs Smith suggested Pete sit on the rug near the fire again. He was happy to do that, then Mrs Smith produced a small wicker basket. 'If you want something to do while I get lunch,' she said, 'You might like to play with these.' Pete still had Topsy in his hand. He looked into the basket, and saw that it was full of little doll's clothes. 'They're dolls clothes,' said Pete. He liked Topsy. It was fun to have someone dressed like he was last night, but he thought playing with dolls clothes was for girls. 'Yes,' said Mrs Smith. 'But until I get you some other things, that's all I've got. Erica loved them. Boys can play with them too. Only if you want to, honey. I'll be a little while in the kitchen.' Pete watched her go into the kitchen. He had a strange feeling of loss. He didn't really like her leaving him, even if it was only to go to the kitchen. He sat for a few moments, wondering if it was silly to miss her like that. He couldn't quite figure it out and looked at the basket. At least it was a distraction. He saw some red corduroy, and it reminded him of his overalls. Interested, he took the little garment out and held it up. They were beautifully made little clothes, and even had the same balloons on the front as his. Smiling, he took off Topsy's blue top. He giggled. She even looked like him in just her diaper, with her blonde hair and pony tail just like his. Carefully, he took off Topsy's blue pants, and sure enough, she had a thick little cotton diaper on. He left that on and put the little plastic body into the red overalls. Ha, he thought. This was actually good fun, he decided. At home, he'd always had a choice of his own toys or his sisters' old ones, which he'd mostly left in the big toy box. He'd certainly never played with their dolls, but this was cool. 'How are you going honey?' said Mrs Smith, coming out of the kitchen. 'Good,' said Pete. He swivelled around in the floor to face Mrs Smith, and stood Topsy up in front of him. 'Look!' he said. 'We're twins!' 'You are indeed,' said Mrs Smith. 'Are you still dry, sweetie?' she added. Pete looked at her, then put his hand to his padded crotch. He honestly couldn't be sure. He should still be dry, he thought. Mrs Smith saw his hesitation, and went towards him. Squatting next to him, she slid her fingers up the leg of his panties. 'You're fine,' she said. 'Good boy.' Pleased, Pete watched her go back to the kitchen, then looked in the basket for something else interesting to dress Topsy in. Mrs Smith stopped as she reached the kitchen, and turned to look at Pete. The short dress he was wearing didn't cover his bulky diaper, and he looked adorable as he played. He bent forwards to reach something, and his dress rode up to expose most of his thickly diapered bottom. Mrs Smith smiled. She missed Erica, but Pete was turning out just as cute. To be continued. (If this is getting too schmaltzy, let me know.) : )
  8. Nope, nothing in the tea. It's just gentle psychological prompting (but don't take my word for it that it could actually happen - remember this is a strange world where adults wear diapers and exhibit regressive behaviour.) ; )
  9. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 10 They went into the living room. The fire was burning quietly and the room was warm. Mrs Smith sat in one of the chairs. 'Pete, why don't you make yourself comfortable on the rug near the fire? You'll be toasty warm there. I'll let you know when you can speak to your mum. Now, I'll need your mobile phone, please,' she said. Pete got the phone from the pocket of his overalls and began to get up from where he had just sat. 'Don't get up, honey,' said Mrs Smith, getting up herself and walking over to Pete. Pete looked up at Mrs Smith as he gave her his phone. She was quite tall, and looking up at her smiling face, past her powerful legs and, wide hips and large breasts, Pete felt very small. Dammit, he thought, as he felt himself peeing a little. He managed to stop, then relaxed and peed a little more before making a determined effort and halting the flow. It was just because she looked so big and strong, and even a bit scary, Pete told himself. 'Are you OK, sweetie?' asked Mrs Smith, still standing with the phone in her hand. She'd watched the progression of emotions on Pete's open little face. 'Did you wet, honey?' she asked. 'Just a little bit, but I stopped,' said Pete. 'You're so big.' Mrs Smith was puzzled by that, then laughed as she realised what Pete meant. 'I am a bit bigger than you, honey, but I'm very friendly,' she said with a laugh. 'Let's just check your diaper.' Mrs Smith squatted next to Pete and put a hand to his crotch. Pete felt her fingers pressing the thick diaper. Then she put her hand behind him and quickly cupped her hand to the diaper there. ''You'll be OK for a little while,' she said, as Pete was mulling over hearing the words 'Let's check your diaper.' He used to cringe when his mum or sisters said that. It always meant something embarrassing, like having their fingers down his front or up the legs of his shorts. He didn't mind Mrs Smith checking, though. She was trying to help, not treat him like a baby, like his sisters did when he had to have a diaper on. She didn't need to check my bottom, though, he thought. He had messed his pants before, but hardly ever. She'd never even asked him, he thought. 'Now, what's your mum's name on your contact list?' asked Mrs Smith from where she sat on one end of the sofa. Pete blushed yet again. 'Erm, its "Mummy",' he said. 'My sisters helped me set up the phone and they put it there. I should change it.' 'Why?' asked Mrs Smith. 'She is your mummy after all, and I bet she'd be perfectly happy with the name. I'd be quite happy to be your mummy too,' she added with a laugh, looking at Pete. Mrs Smith scrolled through Pete's contacts. 'Here she is,' she said. She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece over the fire. 'All good,' she said. 'I won't be phoning in the dead of night.' Mrs Smith put the phone to her ear. 'Hullo Helen,' she said when it was answered. 'This is Jan Smith, Pete's landlady. Oh, that's good. He said he'd been in touch with you, Yes, I am. No, he's fine, good as gold. We've had a very pleasant few days, including a visit to a park to feed the ducks.' Mrs Smith laughed into the phone, then listened for a few moments. 'Well, yes, he did, Helen, and that's what I'm calling about, other than to say hello,' she said. Mrs Smith looked down at Pete, and mouthed 'in a minute' at him. She listened to the phone again. 'Well I doubt he's told you, but I'm a paediatric nurse. I still do consultancy work, but I'm basically retired. My specialty is incontinence. Yes,' she said into the phone, then listened again. 'It is,' she told Helen. 'It's awful to see them so anxious when they're out, or not even going out at all, and missing out on all the time with friends that other children have. There are ways of managing the problem which give them back their confidence and freedom.' Mrs Smith listened again. 'Yes, I have, Helen. No, he's quite comfortable about it. He's aware that he needs assistance and is very cooperative.' Mrs Smith across at Pete and smiled. He grinned in return. 'And he's such a lovely boy anyway,' said Mrs Smith. She listened again, then laughed. 'What, with three girls already?' replied Mrs Smith. 'Did you? Well, Helen, we take what we're given, and I'm sure you wouldn't swap him now for even the sweetest little girl in the world!' 'Anyway, speaking of sweet kids, Helen, Pete would like a word. Before I go, let's get in touch by email. I'll text you my address on this phone. I can go into much more detail about how things are progressing. But, here's Pete. Mrs Smith held the phone out towards Pete, who began to get up. 'No need to get up, honey, just scoot over on the rug,' she said. Pete did just that. He was surprised how quickly he could move without getting up. Mrs Smith patted the sofa cushion next to her, and Pete happily clambered up and snuggled himself next to her. 'Hi mum,' he said when Mrs Smith handed him the phone. Pete chatted to his mum about family affairs for a few minutes, then Pete listened, then spoke. 'Yes, mum, but just for a little while. Yes, then too. I already had a plastic sheet. Her last boarder had some daytime problems too.' He listened again. 'No, it's much better. I know she's helping. No, tab ones like the ones, you know, that you used,' he said. After some more family chat, Pete handed the phone back to Mrs Smith, who tucked him in closer to her breasts. 'I will, Helen,' she said into the phone again. She laughed. 'He is a little bit, but it's taken care of, at least til lunchtime. I should have mentioned, I depilated him, so that's not an issue. Yes, much more hygienic. OK. Lovely to speak to you Helen. We'll stay in touch.' Mrs Smith put the phone on the mall table next to the sofa. 'There's no need for you to carry it around everywhere, honey. I'll keep it in my bag and tell you if someone calls. Pete wasn't sure about arguing over having his phone, but he knew he wouldn't miss any of the few calls he received. 'If you need to call out, just ask and I'll help,' Mrs Smith said. Pete shrugged and snuggled close to Mrs Smith's soft breasts. After a few minutes, he was dozing off. His mouth was almost at the growing bump of her nipple. Mrs Smith moved slightly, bringing her nipple directly in front of Pete's lips. The knitted fabric stretched over the stiffening nipple, and Pete's lips closed automatically around it as best they could through the clothing. When Mrs Smith felt Pete actually sucking, she lifted his head gently away from her body and pulled upwards first her sweater then her blouse. She manoeuvred the cup of her bra upwards, then settled Pete's blonde head back again. A little while later, Pete was asleep, snoring softly. Mrs Smith looked at him and smiled, then heard a light hissing sound. She put her hand to Pete's padded crotch and felt the swelling warmth. Pete mumbled something but didn't wake up. To be continued.
  10. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 9 'OK, honey,' said Mrs Smith as Pete sat on the bed in his towel, with Topsy next to him. 'First, I'd like to speak to your mum,' said Mrs Smith. That was a shock to Pete. He wanted his mum to think that he'd finally grown up and wasn't having any problems. 'Pete, I think you need to accept some things, darling.'said Mrs Smith, noticing Pete's surprise. 'Now you are having some problems, and you need to face them. As I said, I worked in paediatrics for 20 years, with children just like you, and I do know what I'm talking about. Now your mum is involved in this, and your sisters too. I'm sure they love you very much, and want only the best for you. I feel the same, although we've only known each other for a very short time. We all want to help you Pete, and that's why I need to talk to her. I'll do that after you're all dressed and we go downstairs. There's nothing secret - you can sit next to me and talk to your mum too. When did you last speak to her, honey?' 'Er, just before I got here, from the train station,' Pete said. 'Then I texted her to say that I was OK. And that you were nice,' he added. Mrs Smith smiled at him. 'You are a sweetie,' she said. 'So, first things first. You've wet your pants twice in two days.' ''Yes but they were...' Pete began. 'I know, Pete, but as I said, we have to face facts. Now I think you need to wear some protection while we work on this,' Mrs Smith said. 'I can stay dry!' said Pete. 'It was just...' 'Pete, please,' said Mrs Smith. 'I had exactly this discussion with Erica, and we worked things out. Now you will need to wear...' 'No!'' said Pete forcefully. 'I don't want to be back in diapers.' 'Pete,' said Mrs Smith patiently, 'You won't be 'back in diapers'. You'll just be wearing some sensible protection for the next little while as we work on this and help you. OK? No one esle will know what you're wearing, and you'll be able to go out and enjoy yourself without any worries about wetting your pants. Isn't that a good idea?' Pete nodded. What Mrs Smith said was right. As it was, he was always trying to make sure where the nearest toilet was. It was hard to believe he was having this conversation with Mrs Smith, he thought. He was worried mostly about wetting the bed, not his pants. He wore a diaper sometimes at home, but only for some things, not all the time like she seemed to be saying now. 'Do I have to wear them, you know, all the time, like from when I get up?' asked Pete. 'Yes honey,' said Mrs Smith. 'For now, anyway. And I know you haven't wet the bed yet, but I think you should wear something to bed too, just for now, until we get things a bit more sorted out. OK?' Pete bit his lip. He was trying so hard to be grown up. He would be twenty in four months, and he had told himself that he wouldn't ever wet after that. 'I didn't want to wet after I was twenty,' Pete said to Mrs Smith, looking at her with his voice cracking. 'Pete, we can't just make things happen like that. We need to take care of things as they are now. And right now, you need to wear something so that you don't wet your pants or your bed. As I said, lots of children are in exactly the same position. Even older people too. It's just that no one talks about it,' Mrs Smith said, stroking Pete's blonde hair. 'You know the two girls we saw in the park?' Mrs Smith added. 'Did you see that one of them was wearing a diaper?' 'No,' said Pete. 'Well, she was,' said Mrs Smith. 'Her mum was looking after her just as I'm looking after you. Now hop back on the bench, and I'll get one of Erica's diapers.' It was like the moment of truth, Pete felt as he lay back on the bench. His mum had diapered him before, but this was different. He felt like he'd reached a corner, and was about to go around it. 'Pete, I'm going to put you in a diaper with tabs,' said Mrs Smith. 'I think you'll be better of with those to start with. We can try pullups later if it looks as though they'll be enough. Have you had the tab sort before?' Pete nodded. He was still trying to deal with what was happening. He didn't want to be put back in diapers, and Mrs Smith said that wasn't happening. He believed her, but it was still hard to work out. Pete was holding Topsy and clutched her more tightly. He had a sudden longing for Buddy, and looked forward to seeing him later. He and Topsy were just toys, of course, but in a way they were like new little friends. Mrs Smith was a friend too. Pete began to cheer up. Wetting his pants had worried him terribly, both times, and although he wasn't looking forward to wearing a diaper, he'd worn them before and they did take away all his anxiety. And they ere nice and warm, he reminded himself. And no one would know. So things wasn't too bad, he told himself. Pete laid back quietly as Mrs Smith talced and diapered him, lifting his bottom when she asked and then sitting up to be dressed. Mrs Smith said he didn't need any panties over his diaper, and found another overall, this time in red corduroy. There were coloured balloons on the bib, but at least they weren't girly. Pete was still a boy, he told himself. The new overall fit easily over his diaper and green top, and the shoe business was solved when Mrs Smith said he didn't need any shoes inside. Pete felt a lot better. The diaper was quite thick, and it made Pete waddle a little as he walked to the door but he knew the feeling and knew he could disguise his gait by keeping his legs close together as he walked. He felt less anxious already, and reached for Mrs Smith's hand first as they approached the stairs. He was looking forward to speaking to his mum. To be continued.
  11. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 8 'Shhh, honey. It's OK,' Mrs Smith reassured Pete. She had him sitting on the low padded bench in the bathroom, and was untying his pink shoelaces. 'Now, stand up for a moment, and we'll get these wet pants off,' Mrs Smith said. Pete stood, and watched as Mrs Smith undid the shoulder straps and took off his overall. Both the front and the back were soaked and dark blue. Pete looked at the wet cloth and began crying again. He'd almost convinced himself that he was 'cured'. While travelling, there had always been plenty of bathrooms, and Pete had got into the habit of visiting one almost every time he saw one. As a result, his regular emergency runs to the bathroom or damp pants had become a thing of the past, or the recent past at least. At home, if he was outside, he'd usually been able to find a place behind a building to squat and pee if he couldn't get to a bathroom in time. He'd become quite adept at undoing his pants and pulling down his underwear then holding them both away as he peed. Now, he was back to wet pants. He'd felt that, despite the wetting issue, that he was approaching maturity like the other boys his age. Now he was back with not his mum or sisters, but Mrs Smith, changing his wet clothes. 'Now these,' Mrs Smith said brightly as she tugged down Pete's soaked pink panties. Pete stood pantsless and still sniffling in front of Mrs Smith, but he felt no more embarrassed now at his nudity in front of Mrs Smith than he'd felt at home. Mrs Smith removed his top and vest. 'Do you need to sit on the toilet for a minute, honey?' ask Mrs Smith. 'N, no, I don't think so,' said Pete. 'When did you last do a poo, honey?' asked Mrs Smith. 'Erm, yesterday morning, I think,' said Pete as Mrs Smith put aside his wet overall and panties. 'Well, why don't you sit there now for a minute and try to poo, and I'll get the shower going for you,' said Mrs Smith. 'OK,' said Pete, and went to the toilet, where he sat, looking at the tiled floor. He found he did need to go, and after a minute or two had a small bowel movement. 'Good kid,' said Mrs Smith with a smile as Pete stood up. 'I can do it,' said Pete as Mrs Smith took some sheets of toilet paper from the roll on the wall and turned him around. 'It's just as easy if I do it,' said Mrs Smith. 'Just bend forwards a little.' 'There we are,' she said a moment later. 'All clean. Now, just hop back on the bench for a minute. I have some cream for you.' Pete sat back on the bench. 'What's the cream?' he asked. 'It's to help you stay fresh and hygienic,' said Mrs Smith. 'If you do have some wetting problems, it's not healthy to have hairs which can trap bacteria. This will stop that. Just lie back for a minute.' Pete did so and Mrs Smith applied the cream to his crotch and thighs, then asked him to turn over and rubbed a little on his bottom. 'It stings!' said Pete. 'It will. honey, but not for long.' said Mrs Smith. 'Just sit up for a minute. Here's your towel,' she added wrapping the towel around his shoulders. 'Look,' said Mrs Smith. 'Here's one of Erica's little friends.' Mrs Smith held up a happy looking, naked plastic little girl doll. ''She's all smooth too, just like you'll be. This is Topsy. Erica and Topsy used to have their baths together,' she said, handing the doll to Pete. Pete took the doll and looked at it. As Mrs Smith intended, it took Pete's mind off his stinging groin. Pete moved the doll's arms and stood it on his knee. 'OK,' said Mrs Smith. 'I think that will do. Into the shower, then we'll get you dressed. You can take Topsy in with you. Erica used to sit her on the soap holder. Then we can put some clothes on her too.' Pete got into the shower. It was good to get the still mildly stinging cream off. Pete didn't have a lot of pubic hair, but what there was washed off completely. He ran his hands over his hairless thighs, and looked at his denuded genitals. They looked quite small without any hair on them at all. Pete finished showering and Mrs Smith dried him off with the towel. 'Right,' said Mrs Smith. 'Now let's go into Erica's room and we can have a chat and get you dressed. Topsy can come too.' Pete quite liked the cheery looking little doll. Clutching it in one hand, and smelling sweetly of the bath soap, he followed Mrs Smith to Erica's room. To be continued.
  12. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 7 As they reached the top of the stairs, Mrs Smith paused and held out her hand. Pete looked at the hand in surprise. 'They're steep old stairs, Pete,' Mrs Smith said. 'I saw you wobbling a bit coming down yesterday.' 'I didn't...' he said. 'Pete, please,' Mrs Smith insisted. Pete shrugged and took the offered hand. On the third step down, he managed to tread on a long end of his sneaker lace and nearly fall over. He grasped Mrs Smith's hand as she put her arm around him. She looked down at the offending lace. 'Oh, sweetie,' she said. 'It's your shoelace. Put your hands on my shoulders.' Pete, again embarrassed, did so, and Mrs Smith positioned herself on the stairs and retied both of Petes sneakers with double knots. 'I think I'd better do those until you get a bit better at it,' she said, standing up. 'All set?' she added. 'Yeah,' said Pete. 'Then down we go,' said Mrs Smith, leading Pete to the kitchen, where she pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for Pete. Mrs Smith talked about Pete's 'treat', a park not far away which had a lake with birds to feed. Pete didn't think it sounded too bad. He hadn't fed birds for years. They had cups of tea, and some left over trifle from the previous evening's meal. Mrs Smith had hers on a small plate with a cake fork, while Pete's was in a bowl with a spoon. Pete noticed the difference. 'Mrs Smith, I don't need a spoon,' said Pete, holding it up. 'It's messy, honey,' said Mrs Smith. Pete didn't want to argue, so he didn't mention the bowl, and ate the trifle. They finished their morning tea, and were soon on the way to the park. At least she didn't ask me if I needed to pee,he thought, hoping that there was a chance the subject really would go away if he was careful. They got to the pretty little park soon enough, and the first thing Mrs Smith did was to point out the ornate little toilet building a little way away. 'OK,' Pete answered. Mrs Smith produced a bag of stale bread, and they walked happily across the park to the lake. After they'd tossed a few pieces of bread to a couple of hungry waterbirds, more birds arrived and landed on the water. Perhaps the splashing of the water got Pete's insides going, but he needed to pee. 'I need to pee, Mrs Smith,' he said, and immediately felt silly. He didn't have to tell her that. He could have just said he'd be back in a minute and walked off to the toilet. 'OK, honey,' Mrs Smith said. 'I'll keep these around until you get back.' Pete headed to the toilets. When he got close, he saw a builder's sign on the little building. It said 'Closed for renovations. Nearest facility public library in Hampton Street'. Dammit, thought Pete. He could hold on for a while, he decided. It only felt urgent because of all the splashing. He walked back to Mrs Smith. 'It's closed,' he said. 'Where's the library in Hampton Street?' 'Back at the intersection,' said Mrs Smith. 'Will you be OK?' she asked with concern.'We could go there on the way back. We won't be too long here.' 'No, I'm fine,' said Pete confidently. 'Let's feed these ducks.' The minor feeding frenzy they created attracted a young mum with her two little girls. Mrs Smith and Pete gave the girls some of their bread, and soon they were all enjoying the spectacle. A couple of large geese arrived, honking and pushing their way among the smaller birds. They were quite aggressive, and one of them lunged out of the water and snatched the bread from Pete's hand. The goose had a strong beak, and snapped at Pete's fingers as it took the bread. It took Pete by surprise, and he fell back to the grass. 'Ahh!' he shouted, then felt the flooding in his crotch. He let out another short moan, and tried simultaneously to get up and look at his crotch. He was still peeing, and tried his hardest to stop the flow. He managed to, but not before he had well and truly wet himself. He stood helplessly, looking at Mrs Smith. 'That girl's wet her pants,' one of the children said loudly to her mother. 'Shush, darling. She's just had an accident,' said her mother, looking with understanding at Mrs Smith, then kindly at Pete. 'It's OK,' said Mrs Smith both to the young mum and to Pete. She put an arm around Pete, who was still looking shocked, then turned to the mother and her girls. 'I think our duck feeding session has ended,' Mrs Smith said, taking Pete's little bag of bread. 'Why don't your girls finish feeding them, and I'll get this one home and changed.' Handing the bread to the two eager girls, Mrs Smith took Pete's hand, to which he didn't object, and they turned towards the car. As they walked away, one of the little girls said 'She's really wet.' That was enough to start Pete crying. He tried to stop that, too. He hadn't cried in ages. He was glad of Mrs Smith's warm, firm hand. Back in the car, Mrs Smith folded a towel on the seat for Pete. 'They said I was a girl,' said Pete, still stifling his sobs. 'Why didn't you say I'm a boy?' 'Because it would here been confusing,' said Mrs Smith. 'Now, we'll go straight home, Pete. If you wet more, it won't matter on the towel,' she added. 'I won't,' said Pete. 'It was just an accident.' 'I know, honey. We'll get you home and cleaned up, then I want to have a serious talk with you,' she said. Pete felt a little frightened. She wouldn't kick him out, he thought. It really was an accident. He couldn't help it. 'Don't worry, honey,' she said, seeing Pete's distress.'I know you couldn't help it. But I think we need to talk about managing your problem.' 'My p..problem?' said Pete. 'But it was...' 'Shhh, honey,' said Mrs Smith. 'Let's get you changed first. You'll feel much better.' Pete felt himself peeing again, and this time he couldn't stop. He sobbed quietly the rest of the way home. To be continued.
  13. Thanks for dragging these up the list so everyone else can see they're unfinished! ; ) i really will try!
  14. I'll try, babyboy, and thanks for being a fan! I got a bit stuck with this one. It's my second attempt at a guy being dumped in a home by his wife, and each time I've sort of written myself out on a limb without knowing exactly how to get back on the narrative path. I need a week off to sit and think about where to go with some of these uncompleted stories. I really don't like them being unfinished. Sal
  15. Aargh! You're embarrassing me! I'll finish this, really. I need 'the urge' to write, like an artist working on six paintings at once - not that my stories are anything like art. It's hopelessly inefficient, but I work on them haphazardly, and sometimes get a new idea and rush into that. Believe me, it aggravates me as much as anyone, but it's the only way I can do it. : ) Sal
  16. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 6 Pete was very quiet on the short drive home. He felt terrible, and not only because he'd wet his pants virtually in front of all those nice ladies, and cost Mrs Smith her Sunday morning basketball match. His old foe, wet pants, had returned at the worst time, meaning that there was no hope now that Mrs Smith would drop the subject. On top of that, he'd wet the clothes Mrs Smith had lent him. He'd never actually been a boarder before. He hadn't told Mrs Smith, but this trip was the first time he'd been away from home, at least for more than a night. He'd been trying so hard to be the savvy young adult traveller, and wanted to be the perfect boarder too. Now he'd wet his pants like a toddler. He wondered what Mrs Smith was thinking of him. He swallowed hard and stared out of the window. There was a group of young girls on the pavement as Mrs Smith stopped at an intersection. They didn't look much older than Pete, and they were dressed in the same sort of pretty casual clothes. They were laughing and chatting. Pete looked at their pants. None of them would have wet themselves for years. Why couldn't he be like them, he thought. His unhappiness began to overwhelm him. He felt Mrs Smith's hand on his leg. 'Don't worry dear,' she said. 'It happens to lots of girls, and boys too. We'll have you changed and sparkly clean in a jiffy, and we can get on with the day.' Pete swallowed back his rising tears. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'Your match, and Erica's pants.' 'Oh, stop worrying,' said Mrs Smith. 'I can play plenty more matches, and the clothes will wash.' Mrs Smith paused for a moment. 'Erica had accidents, too, Pete,' she said. 'Did she?' asked Pete, suddenly feeling less alone in his troubles. They swung into Mrs Smith's property, and stopped. Pete was very interested in Erica wetting herself. 'In her pants or in bed?' he asked. 'Both, dear,' Mrs Smith said. 'Now you hop upstairs and have a shower. I'll come up and change you. We can find some more of Erica's clothes.' 'OK,' said Pete, glad of something to do. He got out of the car and as soon as Mrs Smith opened the front door, he went upstairs. In his bedroom, Pete opened the wardrobe door and looked at himself. It was plainly obvious that he'd wet his pants. When it had happened in his jeans, it was a lot less visible, and he'd usually been able to change his pants without anyone noticing, or they had dried enough without anyone seeing that he didn't have to change. It was funny how Mrs Smith had said she'd change him, he thought. It made him sound like a little child. She meant change his clothes and help him dress, he realised. He didn't really mind her dressing him, he thought. It made him feel sort of cared for, but he wondered why she did it. Pete took off his sneakers and socks, then pulled off his wet pants. He could see that the whole front of his panties were wet. He thought of them as panties without correcting himself. That's what they were, after all. Just borrowed ones. He took those off, then his top. He put the clothes carefully on a chair in the room, then went to the bathroom. He made sure his towel was near the shower before he got in. As he expected, Mrs Smith walked into the bathroom a few minutes later. She chatted amiably as Pete finished showering, and had the towel ready for him as he emerged. Wrapping it round him, she kissed his cheek again. 'Come into Erica's room, honey, and we'll get you changed,' she said. She ushered Pete out of the bathroom and farther along the hall to another door. Erica's room was similar in size to Pete's, but by the decor was clearly a girl's room. Pete sat on the bed in his towel as Mrs Smith went to the wardrobe and a chest of drawers. As he moved a little on the bed, he thought he heard the muffled sound of a plastic sheet. He knew the sound because he'd always had one on his bed. He watched Mrs Smith carefully selecting clothes for him. She was so nice. Pete felt guilty, and after what had happened at the gym, he thought he should be honest. 'Mrs Smith,' he began, his voice trembling slightly. Mrs Smith closed a drawer, and turned to him. 'What, honey?' she said. 'Well, you know, what happened this morning, and you know, bedwetting and things...' Pete said. Mrs Smith sat next to him on the bed and gave him a gentle hug. She was so warm, thought Pete. 'Go on, sweetie. I'm here to help,' she said. 'Well,' said Pete. 'You know I said it hadn't happened for years, I mean, you know, wetting the bed, well, I, I mean, it's a bit more often.' Pete stopped as Mrs Smith hugged him closer. 'I'd guessed that, sweetie,' she said. 'I've worked with lots of children, especially proud little boys. And wetting in the daytime?' 'Only sometimes,' Pete said. 'But I thought I could make it go away, you know, now that I was travelling.' 'Honey,' said Mrs Smith. 'That sort of thing doesn't just go away. But there are things you can do to help. It's not at all uncommon, either, Pete. People just don't talk about it.' Pete thought of Erica. He looked around the room and saw a dolls house and some dolls sitting on the dressing table. 'How old is Erica?' he asked. Mrs Smith thought for a moment. 'She's just like you, honey,' she said. 'Sort of growing up, but still needing looking after. Your sisters and mum looked after you when you had accidents, didn't they?' 'Yes,' said Pete, 'But I didn't tell you.' 'No,' said Mrs Smith, 'But when we were chatting on that site, I guessed. You told me your mum was washing your sheets, then you told me the same thing a couple of days later. And you told me they were very worried about you travelling alone so far away.' 'Yes, but I didn't say...' said Pete. 'Honey, you didn't have to. As I said, I've worked with lots of children. They tell you things without actually saying them. Even in a chat room,' said Mrs Smith. 'I'm nineteen,' said Pete. 'Yes,' said Mrs Smith, 'But some older children, boys and girls, need more care than others. You're very lucky to have had such loving older sisters and your mum to look after you. You must miss them.' 'Yes, I do,' said Pete, and gladly accepted Mrs Smith's hug. 'I'm sure you do,' said Mrs Smith. 'And now that they're not here, I can help look after you.' Pete felt nothing but gratitude. He'd been feeling increasingly adrift the longer he moved from home. He hadn't been sure how he would end up. He and Mrs Smith had emailed and texted while he was on the move, and the idea of boarding at Mrs Smith's had become like an island in an increasingly rough sea. 'Is that why you asked me to stay here?' Pete asked, looking up at Mrs Smith. 'Partly, yes,' said Mrs Smith. 'Thank you,' said Pete, and Mrs Smith hugged him closer. The pair sat for a few minutes, Pete with his head against Mrs Smith's breasts and she stroking his back. 'Well,' said Mrs Smith. 'Thank you for being honest. You really are a sweetie.' She gave Pete another kiss on the cheek. 'Let's get you dressed,' she said. Pete was happy for Mrs Smith to take charge as before. There was another pair of panties, pink this time.' 'No one will see them,' she said, 'And they're a pretty colour. You'll know you're wearing something nice but nobody else will.' Pete smiled at that. They were a pretty colour and they felt just as comfortable as the other pair. Next came what Mrs Smith called a vest, which was like a singlet but with thin frilly edges. 'It will be under your top,' Mrs Smith told him. Once he was dressed, Pete looked at the result in the big mirror. He was wearing pale blue overalls. He felt the soft denim. Like the blue pants, there was no fly, just white buttons at each side. There was a bib with wide denim straps going over his shoulders, and a pale yellow shirt under that with short, elasticated sleeves. The crotch was quite loose looking. Pete turned this way and that. He looked even younger than before. His hair was still in its pony tail, and with no visible evidence of his masculinity, he looked like a pre-teen girl. 'What do you think, honey?' asked Mrs Smith. After all they'd talked about, Pete didn't think he could complain that he looked too childish and feminine. As Mrs Smith said, apart from his panties and the vest, the clothes were really unisex. 'Erm, great, but they're a bit loose,' said Pete, showing Mrs Smith the baggy crotch. 'Thats quite alright,' said Mrs Smith. 'Erica needed to wear a diaper under those sometimes, so they're nice and loose.' Diaper, thought Pete. For all his honesty in telling Mrs Smith about his bedwetting and accidents, he hadn't mentioned the D word, as his sisters used to say when he objected to wearing one on long outings or into the city. He felt himself blushing like a beacon. 'Oh Pete,' laughed Mrs Smith. 'You couldn't keep a secret if you tried. I've got some of Erica's here if you need one. Did your mum put you in one for long trips?' Pete nodded, feeling very embarrassed. Mrs Smith laughed again, and gave him a quick hug. 'That's nothing to be ashamed of, or embarrassed about. These overalls will work just as well for you as they did for Erica if you need a diaper,' she said, giving Pete a pat on his bottom. 'Now, let's go downstairs for a cup of tea, then we can head off for our treat.' Pete cheered up. His worst, most embarrassing secret had been revealed, and Mrs Smith had just laughed and given him a hug. Pete looked at himself in the mirror again before Mrs Smith closed the wardrobe door and they left the room together. He did look nice, he decided, and he liked his hair that way. To be continued.
  17. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 5 Pete stood and pulled up his underwear then his new pants. The zip on the side was thin but quite long, and he had to fiddle with it to pull it up. Zipping it up stretched the light blue fabric across his lower tummy. It wasn't a bad feeling, thought Pete, nicer than zipping up his Levis. He found there was a tab across the top of the zipper, with a blue button, and he did that up too. That pulled the waistband of the pants snug against him, and that felt nice too. Better than a belt, he thought. The pants were actually very comfortable. It was a pity they were such a daggy colour, thought Pete. He was washing his hands when a woman in spandex walked in. 'Hi honey,' the woman said as she went into one of the cubicles and closed the door. This must be a unisex bathroom, Pete thought as he left and made his way back to the locker room. He passed a door labelled 'Men', and it opened as two big, boisterous guys came out. They were wearing shorts and singlets on their muscular, hairy bodies, and were jostling each other good-naturedly. Pete was a little surprised by their sudden appearance, and stood still. 'Wow, you're new,' said one of the guys, stopping his jostling to look at Pete. 'Come on Angus,' said his mate. 'No time for that. And you're a married man!' Angus gave Pete a big smile and the pair resumed their jostling way down the corridor. Pete walked slowly past the 'Men' door and arrived outside the door he'd come out of. It was now closed, and had a sign on it saying 'Women'. Pete suddenly felt acutely embarrassed and anxious. Mrs Smith had taken him into the ladies' locker room. Two more hearty looking men arrived arrived in the passageway, and without paying any attention to Pete they went into the male locker room. Pete wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't just walk into the men's room. He didn't know anyone there, for a start, and what would he do there? The women's locker room now seemed like a sanctuary, but one that he was reluctant to enter. He opened the door a little and looked through the gap for Mrs Smith. 'Come in, Pete,' said the woman who'd been putting on the sports bra from near the door. 'Well, ' said Pete, 'I didn't know...' 'Oh, Pete,' said Mrs Smith, seeing him at the door. 'Come in.' 'Mrs Smith, I didn't realise it was the women's...' 'Don't be silly,' said Mrs Smith. 'You're an honorary girl today, OK? No one here minds.' 'Of course not,' said one of the women. 'Anyway, until five seconds ago, I thought you were Peter P-E-T-A anyway. We're all decent, and open minded. Come in!' 'Not all decent!' laughed a woman not far from Pete. She was naked, and bent over putting her feet into a pair of white panties. Pete looked across to see her bare, rounded tummy with a thick patch of dark pubic hair, and her two large breasts swinging above. Blushing, he looked away. The woman smiled at him, and pulling the panties to her waist, stood up. Mrs Smith came to Pete's rescue. 'Oh, honey,' she said as she approached. 'You've had an accident.' Pete followed Mrs Smith's eyes to his pants, and was shocked to see a sizeable dark blue circle at his crotch. He caught his breath. 'Mrs Smith, I didn't know...' he gasped. 'It's alright, sweetie,' said Mrs Smith. 'Accidents happen.' Pete tried to think when it had happened. He didn't think he wet on the way to the bathroom. That had happened sometimes, very occasionally, but he didn't really check either. He wished the earth would swallow him up. Mrs Smith saw Pete's desperate look, and saw his bottom lip begin to quiver. She put her arm around him and then drew him close. Pete could feel the warm spandex over her soft breasts against his face. 'I'm sorry,' he said, close to tears. 'It's nothing to worry about,' Mrs Smith reasssured him. 'Look, don't worry about scorekeeping. There's nothing here you could change into anyway. You'd be swimming in anything of ours. Tell you what, the girls can do without me today. How about we go home, get you changed, then go out for a nice treat. How would that be?' Mrs Smith reminded Pete of his mother. He was glad she was here. Pete nodded, his face still pressed against Mrs Smith's warm body. Mrs Smith held Pete away from her and smoothed his hair. 'Good,' she said, kissing Pete on the cheek. 'That's what we'll do.' 'Girls,' she said. 'Pete's had a little accident. I'll take him home for a change, so you'll have to do without me today, OK?' 'No problem,' came a few replies, and 'Lovely to meet you, Pete.' Mrs Smith collected her things and led Pete back to the car. He'd cheered up a little. 'Poor kid,' said one of the women after they'd left. 'Yes,' said another, 'But he couldn't be in better hands. Jan was so good with Erica too.' 'I thought he was Erica when they walked in,' said another. 'Oh, no,' said another woman. 'She's up north. Jan knows some group that fosters children like her.' 'Erica was sweet,' said another of the ladies. 'I babysat her a few times, you know, when she'd become quite dependent.' 'Well, all credit to Jan,' said someone else. 'I had enough diaper changing with my kids without changing... How old was Erica?' 'She's 24,' said one of the women. 'Physically. Poor kid. She was sweet though, and it looks as though Pete's a cutie too.' 'He's not in diapers though,' a voice commented. 'No, but it looks as though he needs them. Jan said bedwetting is an issue with him. Anyway, she'll sort things out,' came the reply. 'It's just lucky for those kids that there's someone like Jan to seek them out.' 'Come on girls!' A tall woman said, holding the door open. 'Mothers' meeting's ended. Were late for our match!' To be continued.
  18. I've been a bit sidetracked by Pete's feminisation at the hands of Mrs Smith, but his bedwetting will soon rear its head, followed by diapers, I suspect. : )
  19. The Boarder's Tale Chapter 4 'Morning, sweetheart!' Pete opened his eyes to see Mrs Smith standing at the foot of his bed. He blinked at her. She was wearing a pink spandex body suit over green tights, and despite her middle age, she looked quite stunning. All curves and no sag. Pete was suddenly conscious of his penis stirring in his terry knickers. 'Oh, I wish I had a camera,' Mrs Smith said. 'You all snuggled up with Buddy.' Pete realised he had one arm around the stuffed toy, hugging it close to him. He pulled his arm away and pushed the bear to one side. 'It was just on the bed,' he said. 'That's alright, darling,' Mrs Smith said, laughing. 'How did you sleep? Any problems?' Pete knew what she was referring to. He furtively slid one hand to his dry crotch. 'Fine, Mrs Smith. I don't have those problems any more. It was years ago,' he said. 'Still, honey,' said Mrs Smith. 'Now, I've gone through your clothes, and I must say, we really need to go shopping. Your underwear is, well, a disgrace, honey,' she continued with a smile. 'I put them in the bin. And your pants are almost as bad. I've put them in for a second wash, but I'm not sure that will help. And half the buttons are missing from your shirts. You really need a wife, Pete, or a mummy,' she said with a laugh. Pete wasn't sure whether to apologise for his well-worn clothing or not. As it was, he didn't have a chance. 'So I've got some more of Erica's things for today,' she said. 'Don't worry, they're quite unisex,' she added with another laugh. Pete saw that she had a bundle of clothes in her hand which she placed on the bed. 'I go to the gym on Sunday mornings,' she said, noting Pete's focus on her own clothing. 'With a few other mums and old girls.' 'Er, you look great,' said Pete, now sitting up in bed. The tight chest seam on his bedwear felt a bit odd, and Pete looked down to see that the fabric above the seam, the 'shirred' bit, was bulging out as if he had breasts under it. He tried to pull the material down flat. Mrs Smith smiled. 'You are a cutie,' she said. Pete didn't really mind all the affectionate talk, but he wondered if Mrs Smith intended to stay while he got up. 'Hop up and try some of these on,' she said. 'I don't know if you usually shower in the morning, but I think it's best to have your shower or bath before bedtime. You can come to the gym with me if you like, so hop up!' Pete shrugged to himself, and climbed out of bed. His top was halfway up his torso, and he pulled the hem down to his hips. He felt even more odd in the daytime wearing the terry nightie and underpants, he told himself firmly. 'Top first,' said Mrs Smith, holding out a pastel coloured garment. Pete struggled to get out of the nightie, and Mrs Smith put down the pastel top and helped him. 'Thanks,' said Pete, and stood just in the puffy underpants. 'Here we are,' said Mrs Smith, holding out the top while Pete put his arms up as he had the previous evening. 'I can do it myself,' said Pete. 'I'm here and I might as well help,' said Mrs Smith, and Pete resigned himself to her doing just that. He was reminded again of his sisters or mother dressing him. 'Now, pants,' said Mrs Smith. 'As I said, yours were just too awful, so these are a pair of Erica's. Quite plain,' she added. Pete blushed as he pulled down the elasticated terry pants and tried to pull down the top to cover his loins. Mrs Smith took them from him, and he noticed that she quickly inspected the crotch. Of course they're dry, he thought, with a little tinge of pride. He wasn't a bedwetter. The underpants were plain, thought Pete, as Mrs Smith held them out for him, but thin looking and a soft cream colour. They covered a lot more than his old jocks, and were as big as BVDs but were all just material with no front opening. He stepped into them and Mrs Smith ignored his efforts at modesty and lifted his top to pull up the big pants. 'There we are,' she said brightly. 'Comfy?' The pants did fit smoothly and snugly, and immediately felt warm and comfortable. 'Yeah, they're OK,' replied Pete. 'Good,' said Mrs Smith. 'Now these.' She held out a pair of light blue pants, again for Pete to step into. 'I can do it,' said Pete, taking hold of the waist and trying to pull the thin little plastic zipper to the front. Mrs Smith laughed again. 'The zipper's on the side, honey, but as I said, they're quite unisex,' she said. She tugged the pants high up Pete's waist and deftly zipped up the side. Pete looked down dubiously at the smooth expanse of pale blue fabric covering his front. The material felt a bit stretchy. There was just a slight bump indicating his gender. He glanced at Mrs Smith. 'You look fine,' said Mrs Smith happily. 'No one's going to be looking at your tummy. I'll leave the top out of your pants. Most girls seem to wear it that way. And boys too.' Pete wasn't so sure, but Mrs Smith had moved on to shoes and socks. 'Now your socks were a total disaster,' she said. 'They went straight in the bin. The bottoms were almost solid with grime!' 'Well, the laundromats...' began Pete. 'Oh, they do a terrible job,' said Mrs Smith. 'And they use awful cheap detergent. These clothes smell lovely.' Pete was aware of a fragrance coming from his new clothes. 'Now, said Mrs Smith, 'Erica has fairly large feet for a girl, and yours are quite petite, so I'm guessing these will fit. Pop these on.' Pete looked st the socks Mrs Smith was holding. They were small and white, with a kind of pink trim around the top and a little flowery thing on the backs. 'They'll be under your slacks,' said Mrs Smith. 'They're the plainest Erica had.' Pete put his foot in the first sock and let Mrs Smith pull it up to his ankle. It didn't go up very far, and Pete hoped his pants would cover the trim and flower. The other one went on, and Mrs Smith produced a pair of pale green sneakers with pink laces. 'Your boots looked as if you'd been working on an oil rig,' Mrs Smith said. 'They're outside the back door. I didn't even want them inside, on my carpet,' she added as Pete put his feet into the sneakers. They fit well, thought Pete, as long as you didn't look at the icky colours. Mrs Smith was about to tie his laces, but Pete insisted on at least doing that. 'It's a bit of a rainbow,' said Mrs Smith with a smile as Pete stood up, 'But you look lovely. Now, your hair. I know you washed it last night, but what are we going to do with it?' Nothing, thought Pete. He liked the shaggy, beatnik look, and had worn his blonde hair quite long for years. He thought it looked cool with his denim shirts and RayBans. He looked after it, and was careful to use good shampoo. 'You've got lovely hair,' said Mrs Smith, giving Pete's head a stroke. 'Do you ever wear it in a pony tail?' 'Once or twice,' replied Pete. He hadn't worn a pony tail since he got whistled at by some guys on a construction site. 'Well, let's try it now,' said the unstoppable Mrs Smith. In a few moments, moving behind Pete, she'd tugged and pulled his long hair into a neat pony tail, and secured it with a rubber band. 'I didn't think you'd want one of Erica's scrunchies,' she said. 'Have a look.' Mrs Smith went to the big wardrobe and opened the door to reveal a full length mirror. Pete was shocked to see what he looked like. He hardly recognised himself. He looked like a pretty teenaged girl, not a nineteen year old young man, on the brink of maturity. Even his hair... Pete reached around behind his head. When he'd tried a pony tail, he'd tied it down almost on his collar. This was halfway up the back of his head as he felt it with his fingers. 'It will keep it off your collar,' said Mrs Smith. 'Fewer tangles.' Pete wasn't sure how a pony tail got tangled, but he didn't ask. His head was still spinning with the way he looked. 'You look absolutely lovely,' said Mrs Smith. 'You don't even need makeup.' 'I'm not a girl, Mrs Smith,' said Pete. 'No, but if you were, you wouldn't need any,' said Mrs Smith. 'Now, let's get to the gym.' Pete had no more time to consider his new appearance as he followed Mrs Smith downstairs. His borrowed clothes did feel nice, he realised as he descended the stairs. They were sort of grippy and stretchy at the same time, and he could feel his pants sliding over his underwear as he walked. It wasn't a bad feeling, he thought. He could feel his new pony tail bouncing behind his head too, and the way his hair was pulled into it. That felt strange, but not unpleasant. 'Do you need to pee before we go?' asked Mrs Smith, turning to Pete. 'No, I'm OK,' replied Pete. He was getting used to his landlady's focus on his toileting. He did need to go a bit, but he would go at the gym. Mrs Smith had taken enough charge over dressing without her directing his bathroom visits. 'Alright. Can you carry this, honey?' Mrs Smith asked, handing Pete her pink gym bag containing her towel. 'I've got a box of cakes to take to the other girls.' 'OK,' said Pete, taking the strap of the gym bag. They went outside to Mrs Smith's little Renault, and were soon on the way to the gym. It wasn't far. 'In summer, I run here,' said Mrs Smith, getting out of the car and carefully holding the carton of cakes, 'But it's a bit chilly today, and I'm not sure you could keep up!' she added with a laugh. 'I'm quite fit,' protested Pete. 'I'm sure you are, honey,' said Mrs Smith. 'You should join our group sometime. The other ladies could do with a youngster to show them up.' 'Mm,' said Pete, not sure how he'd fit in with a gym group of middle aged ladies. They reached the double glass doors of the gymmand went inside. They were met by a pair of burly, sweaty men who were leaving. They seemed huge, and both Mrs Smith and Pete stood aside as they passed. One of them greeted Mrs Smith and the other met Pete's eyes and gave him a smile. It made Pete feel embarrassed, and he moved closer to Mrs Smith. It was quite dim inside the gym, and Pete could hear shouts and the squeak of gym shoes on timber as they passed the door to an indoor court. The place smelled of sweat and steam. They reached a desk, and an older man behind it held out a locker key to Mrs Smith. 'Morning ladies,' he said. 'New blood, Jan?' he said to Mrs Smith, smiling warmly at Pete. 'Maybe, Steve,' said Mrs Smith, taking the key and leading Pete farther into the building. 'He called us ladies!' said Pete as they turned into a long locker room. 'Oh, he needs glasses in this gloom,' said Mrs Smith. 'Hi girls!' she added to a group of ladies in various types of spandex at lockers at the far end of the room. 'Come and meet the group,' said Mrs Smith, ushering Pete along. They reached the group. Pete saw that the ladies were all about Mrs Smith's age, and looking just as trim. They looked ready to start their workout, except one woman who was standing in front of her locker wearing only tights and a big white bra. She didn't seem to mind Pete's presence. Pete looked around at the various items of clothing and colourful bags hanging in the room. He couldn't see any evidence of male use of the locker room, and began to feel quite nervous. The lady in the bra had taken it off and was pulling a stretchy green sports bra over her large breasts. She noticed Pete looking at her and smiled as she settled her breasts into the bra. 'Girls, this is Pete, my new boarder,' announced Mrs Smith. 'Hi Pete,' came several voices. 'You do get the pretty ones, Jan,' someone said. 'I love your hair,' someone else said. 'I'm a guy,' was Pete's embarrassed reply. 'There are pretty guys,' someone else said with a laugh. Pete was glad to feel Mrs Smith's protective arm around his back. He really needed to pee. 'I need the bathroom,' he said urgently to her. 'Straight through, honey, then to the right,' replied Mrs Smith, and Pete scampered off past the group of women and through the door at the end of the room. 'What a cutie,' said one of the women. 'I thought it was Erica,' said another. 'Same hair.' 'Well, we have a scorekeeper for today,' another said. Pete reached the bathroom with not a moment to spare. He sat with his pants and panties around his ankles, enjoying the release of his pee. To be continued.
  20. Wow, thanks syphon. I'm impressed!
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