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Egg

......No, I don't mind wearing nappies at night, I need them, and it's better than waking up in a wet bed, but I don't want to be treated like a baby during the day! ...

I don't remember ever going a night without a nappy; it would feel a bit weird, I suppose, and I would be afraid to go to sleep in case I wet the bed. I feel warm and safe when I have a nappy on. I know all my friends are out of them, and so I keep very quiet about it.

...No, not disposables, real nappies; the big square towelling ones and plastic pants to put on over them. I only wear a disposable if we are going on a long journey. Mum says disposables are bad for the environment, and they tend to leak during the night. She uses cloth for little Sis as well. Don't like them much, they're heavy and bulky, and I'm only ever wet, never dirty.... Well, yes, nearly every night...

She puts them on me last thing before bed, unless they're going out when she nappies me about tea-time, along with little Sis, because I really don't want the sitter to do it. I then spend the evening watching television with the sitter, and both of us trying to ignore my nappy. Mum usually changes me when they come back.... They often check me during the night anyway if they need to change little Sis, and sometimes I need a change too. I don't often ask for one because I'm too sleepy, but Mum just puts a hand into my pants, and if she feels my nappy is wet she pulls the bedclothes down and changes me. It is so routine I hardly wake up. Once or twice the sitter has insisted on checking my nappy when I go to bed, but I hate that. She asks me if I am wet, then puts her finger up the leg-elastics of my pants to make sure I'm telling the truth, but I don't normally wet during the day. So far the sitter has never had to change me.

Once when Mum and Dad were out for the afternoon, the sitter came in carrying a nappy and pants and asked me if I still wore nappies during the day. I told her very firmly I did not, but she said there were fresh nappies laid out for Sis and me and she didn't want any accidents. I think Mum had put them out for us for the night. The sitter insisted on nappying me there and then on the carpet, and told me I would be safer and more comfortable that way. What a cheek of her! Mum just laughed when she came back and saw me sitting there in a nappy. At least I was dry.

Dad doesn't seem to mind that I still wear nappies at night. I usually go to kiss him goodnight when I am ready for bed, and he never comments, although he sometimes pats me on the bottom to make sure I'm well padded-out. He does insist I wear one when we travel, though. He says he can't always stop for me to go and pee, and it saves an accident on the car seat. I dread it when I am all dressed up ready to go and then Mum calls me upstairs as it means Dad has decided I have to wear a nappy on the journey, and so I'll be reduced to a sort of babyhood for that day. Sometimes when Sis is wet, they pull into a lay-by and change both of us on the back seat. I hate that. I would much rather sit there in a soggy nappy than be changed in public. Sometimes I've even wet on purpose rather than make Dad angry by asking to stop for a pee; I always seem to want to pee at a bad moment.

When we went to France last year, I wasn't allowed to stay in the car while we crossed on the ferry, and I had to go up into the ship's lounge with a nappy on under my dress. I felt everyone could see it. At one point Mum even leant over and pulled it up because she said it was drooping. I felt my cheeks burning. They finally changed Sis and me on the back seat of the car halfway through France. No ceremony, they just pulled the wet one off me wiped me down and slipped a new one straight under and taped it up despite my protests. I wasn't given the chance to go to the toilet, and so by the time we reached the villa, I was soaked through again. Mum didn't say a thing; she just changed us and put us to bed. That was horrible. I thought they might keep me in nappies for the whole time, day and night, like Gran would, but they didn't. No, the holiday was great apart from that... They let me stay up late at night, as long as I took a nap during the afternoon, as everybody seemed to do. Yes, I was nappied for that of course, but I hardly ever needed them. I had some dry mornings, too; I was very pleased about that. On the way back I wore a long dress, so my nappy would not show so much, and it made changing easier. I didn't ask Dad to stop; I just used it when I had to. Mum couldn't see if I was wet or not, because of the long dress, so we got home a bit faster.

....No, I'm not allowed to put them on myself. They say they leak or fall off if I do it, and I'm certainly not allowed to take them off at any time. I am not supposed to meddle with them, or even touch them, and as for putting my hands inside my plastic pants: Noooo! As Mum says, once they are on, then they stay on and that's it until she changes me I don't really mind all that much; I feel warm and safe when I have a nappy on, and I know I can't make Mum and Dad angry by having an accident. I don't like a wet bed, and a nappy change only takes a minute or two.

....Yes, I wear disposables when we go holiday, it's easier, but when I go to stay at Gran's, she doesn't give me any choice - I think she is so desperate to avoid any accidents on her furniture. She puts me into a cloth nappy straight away, and then she asks me: "Are you comfy now, dear?" as if I had been uncomfortable without one, and I reply "Yes Gran." Anything to keep the peace.

Sis and I went to stay with her for a week when Mum & Dad went skiing. The first thing she did was to change Sis and then, without even asking me, she pulled my pants off, hoisted me onto the changing table, and bundled me up me there and then, despite my loud protests, complete with frilly pants to match Sis's.

As if that wasn't bad enough, she puts Sis in her push-chair and insists we go off to feed the ducks. She insists that I hold onto the push-chair as well, so off I toddled, very grateful that my overcoat covered my pants as we went off down to the park. It was very cold, and quite a long walk, especially in a nappy. I don't mind ducks, but we spent a long time standing on the side of the pond feeding breadcrumbs to the stupid creatures bit by bit, and it was starting to get dark as we made our way back. Then she met a friend, a Mrs Grundy, and started talking, and showing us off. I was so cold, and soon found that I was bursting for a pee. I kept hopping from one foot to the other and tugging at Gran's sleeve, but to my horror, she just turned round and said; "Never mind, dear! There's nowhere to go near here, You've got a nappy on, and I'll change you when we get home."

I wished the ground would open up and swallow me! In front of her friend like that! I must have turned red as a beetroot. Her friend just laughed and said "Isn't she a bit old to still be in nappies?" and Gran replied: "Oh, she still needs them every night and wears them for safety during the day." Just like that! To a stranger! I burst into tears, and I simply couldn't hold it any longer, and was terribly afraid that my nappy would sag and show beneath my coat. I was soaked all round by the time we got home and that set the seal on it; I couldn't argue. I even asked to be changed before Sis, and for once I was. My nappy was cold, nearly down to my knees, and Gran just and pulled it down the rest of the way. Two cold wet rings sliding down my legs, Ugh! I actually felt happy when she lifted me up onto the changing table, and pinned a fresh nappy onto me, still warm from the airing cupboard. Frankly, after the afternoon experience it felt very good to be dry again, at least I was warm and safe and she didn't scold me for having wet myself. Yes Gran, I did feel comfy now, dear. I realised that Mum's promise to keep it all secret did not apply to Gran, and Gran had never made me any such promise.

Needless to say, after that I was back in nappies the whole time, day and night, and gradually my protests at being nappied gave way to requests to be changed. In the morning, both our nappies would go straight into the pail. While Sis was being changed I would go to the bathroom and get cleaned up. I made the most of it. When I finally came out Sis would be all dressed and playing on the rug, and my fresh underwear - no choice allowed - would be neatly folded ready for me on the changing table. There was no point in trying to slip past Gran to the chest of drawers where my pants were kept. I was just plonked down in the middle of the nappy, and processed as usual. Only when that was complete was I allowed to choose the rest of my clothes. I usually just wore a tee shirt on top until after breakfast when my nappy was removed temporarily and I was allowed to use the loo again, after which I put the rest of my clothes on, and had to try and hold it to lunchtime. Gran always checked us before lunch, and I was allowed the loo afterwards, but then my nappy would go back on until teatime. Gran had even made me a romper with a bib and straps over my shoulders to match the one sis wears, and while I hated it, it was very comfortable and practical; and it certainly kept my nappy in place.

I just accepted the situation and made the best of it. I couldn't wear my jeans, because they wouldn't go on over them, and so I had to wear a romper and tights during the day. Not much chance to get to the loo with those on, so I just stopped worrying and used my nappy, hoping the next change would be soon. Gran would check Sis's nappy every hour or so, and then check mine. I wasn't allowed any choice in the matter and any protests were ignored; if I were wet I would be changed immediately. At night, after my bath, she would double up my normal daytime nappy with a booster and a liner, and once that was done I was allowed to watch television for an hour or so while Sis went off to sleep. I was given a drink of warm milk as a nightcap, and I was soaking wet every morning, but at least it was all inside my pants and not in the bed.

I don't know why Gran kept the nursery after all her children had grown up, or if she kept all the nappies and such, but she had a very big house and there were plenty of rooms to explore. The only one I wasn't allowed in was Grandpa's study, because he was away on duty. In one of the attics I found a box full of old toys and played for hours until Gran came to find me for a change. She showed me some of the other things, including a big drop-side cot which was quite large enough to take me. I resolved that once I had been put to bed, I'd stay there, and not risk Gran putting me behind bars at night. She let me take some of the toys down to the nursery for Sis to play with, but the big old pram was musty and horrible. It must have been there since Mum was small.

In the afternoons it was out to feed the ducks or go shopping. It was very cold, so I wore tights, and they kept my nappy up if I wet it. Gran just treated me like Sis, and changed both of us together, whether I was wet or not. Shopping wasn't a problem, the shops were warm, and I could usually make it round and stay dry, but one day we went to the zoo, and had lunch there. After lunch Gran took us to the loo and into the baby changing room. Fortunately it was separate from the ladies, and so I could pretend we were only going in there to change Sis. It was a metal table and very chilly, but it was worth it to get changed into something dry! I'd been so interested in the animals that I'd wet myself rather that than miss something. I admit it was intentional; the second time we were getting near the end of the day, and Sis was getting tired and tetchy, and I desperately wanted to see the penguins, which were at the end of the tour. I knew that if I asked to go to the loo, which was back towards the gate, Gran would use that excuse to go home and I would never get to see the penguins, so I wet my nappy deliberately, and then asked to be changed as we left the penguin pool and were heading towards the toilets anyway. It meant a second visit to the cold metal changing-table, but it was worth it. It was a good thing that Gran had remembered to take lots of nappies and pants in the bottom of Sis's pushchair, so she managed to change both of us again. I think she was regretting not taking some of the disposables that Mum had left her. I slept all the way home with Sis on the back seat of the car, but I managed to keep dry. Three nappies in a day was about as far as I could push my luck.

When changing me, Gran never said a word if I was wet, which at least made it bearable. She just said if I had to wear nappies then she wouldn't tick me off if I wet them, and even praised me for lying nice and still during changes when Sis would scream and wriggle and kick. Gran always took her time over a change, making sure everything was tucked in so there wouldn't be any leaks. I even came to enjoy the attention Gran gave me. I am so tired of Sis getting all the attention all the time.

On the last afternoon Mrs Grundy came around for tea, and I only had a short dress on, and I knew that my plastic pants could be seen clearly, especially at the back. I just sat on the hearthrug and played with Sis. It didn't worry me too much, because Mrs Grundy already knew I was in nappies, and by that time I was quite comfortable with them, but I was not so happy when Gran took Sis and me up for a change and Mrs Grundy came along as well, to watch and even to help. They discussed everything, the type of nappies, the fold, the ointment, and even the way the pins were put in. Gran told Mrs Grundy that I "almost never" dirtied my nappies, but she said I needed two or three changes a day. She said that I was a good girl and went right through the night without a change. Mrs Grundy told me I looked very cute in my pink "baby pants" and I shouldn't be ashamed to wear them if I needed them, and she knew of other children of my age who still wore nappies from time to time. I could have died! She asked me how I got on at school with them, and I grabbed my chance; "It's not a problem. I don't really need to wear them during the day, and I'm never dirty! It's only Gran who insists." Mrs Grundy's eyebrows rose sharply and Gran's went down. I had made my point.

It felt quite strange when Mum and Dad took me home and I had to get used to wearing ordinary pants and going to the loo again. Gran didn't tell Mum about putting me back in nappies for the fortnight; she just said that I hadn't had any accidents, and winked at me. I went along with it; I certainly didn't want a list of all my wettings or any more humiliation, and I certainly didn't want Mum getting the idea that I needed nappies any more often than I did already. Even so, there have been times when I have been bursting for a pee, with no loo nearby, and have quite envied Sis having a nappy on, and being so unconcerned about it. I dread going back to Gran next time. The one interesting thing Gran said was that Mum had had the same problem, but it cleared up when she was twelve.

When I was sick in bed, Mum kept me in nappies during the day, and I didn't object. I was allowed to use the toilet during changes. I slept quite a lot and wet them; at least it saved some long cold walks to the loo. I quite liked being changed, with the cream and the powder and so on, as long as it was done quickly and I didn't get cold. At least a dry nappy is soft and warm. ...No, she used plenty of cream at each change and I didn't get a rash. Then I could sleep and not worry. They let me drink as much as I liked, too. Normally I am not supposed to drink anything after my supper, as they say it just ends up in my nappy during the night, but while I was sick it didn't seem to matter.

I've never been to bed without the full nappy ritual; and I think it would be quite strange to do so. First the nappy is taken from the cupboard and shaken out of its folds, then laid out on the changing-table, and one of Sis's baby nappies is put inside, and the main nappy is folded up around it. Then Mum takes my dressing gown off me and I lie on the table and lift my bottom while she positions the nappy under me. I've got too big for her to lift my legs by the ankles, so I have to pull my knees up to my chest while she powders my bottom. Mum rubs me with the ointment on my bottom and between my legs, and powders the rest of me, then she takes the pins from the bar of soap, and brings the front of my nappy up between my legs, brings each side around on top one by one and pins them closed, quite tightly, clicking the heads on the pins down to lock them. I think the locking bit is a bit of a joke; I am sure I could get out of them if I ever tried. It makes me feel snug and warm and safe and sleepy, and I like talking to Mum while it is going on; it seems to be the only time she isn't busy with Sis or Dad. It's also the only time I am allowed to touch my nappy. Then I lift my legs while the plastic pants are put on over my feet and pulled up to my thighs. I stand up with my arms around her neck while she pulls the pants up over my nappies and around my waist, and runs her finger around the leg elastics to make sure the nappy is properly tucked in and won't leak. I'm certainly not allowed to put my hands inside my plastic pants ever, although I can adjust the elastics if they are pinching.

Actually the plastic pants feel rather nice, smooth and soft between my legs, and they hold everything in place. I quite like them, especially the pretty coloured ones. Then she dresses me in my pyjamas, and I can waddle downstairs to say goodnight to Daddy. I'm sometimes allowed to watch television for a while, but eventually I'm carried upstairs and put to bed. One evening in the summer he was sitting out on the patio, and I only had my pyjama top on over my plastic pants. I didn't want to go out to him, in case somebody saw me wearing my nappy, but Dad told me not to be so silly and so I went out to him and he took me onto his knee and gave me a hug and I didn't care after that. I even walked around the lawn with Dad, loving the feel of the damp grass on my bare feet, and the scent of the flowers, and we looked for fairies. I didn't mind if the fairies saw me in my nappy, because they would surely understand, and you couldn't see my nappy through the milky pants, unlike the clear ones I sometimes wear. I realised that no-one can see into our garden very easily, and after that I would go into the garden quite often just before bedtime and Sis and I would both waddle around looking for fairies.

In summer I only wear the pyjama top with the plastic pants, as Mum says it makes it easier to change me. I know it looks babyish, but I don't mind. In winter I wear a sleeper suit like Sis's, it's very warm, and keeps my nappy in place even when it's wet, but there's no hope of getting to the loo if I get caught short. It zips up the front, and I feel a bit trapped when it's on. At least it doesn't have snappers up the inside of the legs like Sis's does, and Sis's nappies are even thicker than mine; she can barely stagger when she's nappied for the night. Hand-in-hand, we make a right pair. Dad even took a photograph of us.

...No, I don't normally take naps in the afternoon now, but I did wear a nappy during the day at Christmas. We all went to Gran's for that, and all the kids wore nappies. I am the oldest, and I protested quite a lot, but it didn't do any good and I was dumped on the changing-table and changed in my turn. None of the adults made any comment, and I just accepted it and got on with the playing with my presents. They changed all of us in a sort of production line, and nobody worried if I was wet, so I just got on with it and wet my nappy whenever I needed to rather than interrupt the games.

In the mornings I usually have to wait for Sis to be changed because she howls when she's wet. After Sis has been done, Mum inspects my nappy, and if it's wet she normally undoes the pins and takes the nappy out from the back, wipes me with any dry parts remaining, drops it in the pail, then slides my pants down my legs and I step out of them, and they are washed out immediately in the basin. I usually take a quick shower then to get rid of any remaining pee. Sometimes, if I wake up dry on a weekend or in the holidays she will take a pin out, let me use the lavatory, and then re-pin my nappy, and I can go through to their bedroom where they have the tea. Then all of us sit in or around their bed while we drink tea, or I might watch the cartoons on television until breakfast is ready. I won't be changed out of my nappy until after breakfast on those mornings.

No, Mum's only punished me once. Mum keeps saying that I do not wear nappies as a punishment. I wanted to watch television, but Mum wanted me to get ready for bed earlier because she was tired. She insisted on nappying straight after she did Sis, and I was angry so I played around like Sis does. I raised my knees to my chest while the nappy was slid under me, but then I tried to kick at the nappy as it was being drawn up over my bottom and between my legs wriggled as she tried to pin it. It made her prick herself with one of the pins and I got such a slap on my leg! I cried like a baby but she just carried on nappying me and then she dumped me straight into bed! Then she burst into tears as well. I haven't done that again; when she insists on my being changed for bed early, I play along with it so I can watch television afterwards. If I ask to be changed, Mum will usually change me, but I try not to do so during the night. I think that was my lowest point, although I remember I was actually dry the following morning, the first time for ages, and Mum couldn't believe it; she kept examining my nappy to make sure it wasn't wet anywhere.

Gran's another matter. She spanked me once, for taking my nappy off in the night and then wetting the bed. That was the full works, over her knee, with a strap on my bare bottom, and it stung terribly. When I desperately tried to stop her, she smacked my hands and then held me down with one hand while she completed my strapping with the other. I wriggled and screamed, but she carried on beating me, until she rolled me over in her lap, slid a nappy under my bottom, and pinned me in immediately. My bottom burned for hours and I wasn't even allowed to put my hands, which were also burning, into my pants to rub it. The humiliation was even worse than the pain. The strap still hangs on a hook on the back of the nursery door, and slaps against it whenever the door is opened or closed. That alone serves to remind me, and I have never disobeyed Gran since. Better wet my nappy than take it off!

Yes, sometimes recently I have woken while wetting, but by then it is too late to stop, so I just carry on, and go back to sleep again. It's not difficult to sleep in a wet nappy as long as it isn't cold. Once or twice I have even woken up dry, but bursting for a pee. I could have gone to the loo, but what could I do then? I'm so bundled-up in my sleeper and nappies at night that it would have been a huge fuss getting them off and on again, and Mum is insistent that once she has put them on me, I mustn't meddle with them. It's also cold and dark, and it's nice and warm in bed, so I use my nappy for what it's intended for, and go back to sleep. I hope I'll stop wetting soon, but I do enjoy the attention I get from Mum when she changes me, and that would finish if I became dry, and I quite enjoy the safe feeling I have when I'm nappied.

Sorry, got to go now - bedtime. I know its early, but it has to do with little Sis's routine, just like everything else. Goodnight!

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Larva

Yeah, I know. It's been a long time. Things have happened since then. We've had a right old panic. Mum had to go into hospital for an operation, and we've been away staying at Gran's. And you know what she's like!

Everything had been going well for the past few months. Mum had promised me that if I could get myself dry at night I could start taking riding lessons. That was terrific. I was making some progress, then the news comes about her operation. It was obvious that Dad couldn't cope with both of us at home, Mum in hospital, and his own job, so we had to be dumped somewhere like refugees. I suggested my other Gran, Dad's mum, but that was speedily ruled out because she has a small house and couldn't cope with two young kids etcetera, so it was back to Gran's. Apparently she was delighted.

This time I went prepared. Dad was not very good at packing for Sis and me, and Mum was all worried and not much help, so it was partly left to me. I packed all the usual things that Sis needed, and my own things, and found space for part of a pack of disposables in my size. Dad didn't notice, but Mum rather archly asked me why I was taking them, and I blandly replied that it might mean less work for Gran to do. Mum gave me a thoughtful look, and I wondered how much she knew about what went on last time. I was simply determined that if Gran put me back into nappies again, it would be on my terms and I wouldn't have to wear cloth nappies in the daytime this time around.

Mum and Dad took us over to Gran's the day before Mum's op. was due and we said goodbye in the hallway. I was trying to keep cheerful, so that Sis wouldn't understand how serious the situation was, but I still burst into tears when Mum left. I couldn't be sure I would ever see her again. Gran took Sis up to the nursery, and when I had gathered myself, I followed. I found Sis sitting on the rug playing with a new toy, and happy as Larry, and Gran was busy unpacking our clothes into the chest of drawers. I checked the changing table, but there wasn't a nappy laid out for me - not yet, anyway, - although there were plenty in the shelves below. I tried not to be noticed.

"Oh, there you are!" said Gran "I wondered where you had got to. What are these?" She was holding up the pack of disposables. I replied that I thought she might find them useful and it would save her washing. "How considerate!" she replied, and then said: "They're in your case and appear to be in your size. Do they fit you?" I had to reply that they did and that I sometimes wore them in the day for travelling. "Do you have one on now, child? I'm afraid that I forgot to check. Are you wet? Do you need a change?" I replied no, no, and no. That didn't stop her. "I am really not too sure how these work, come and show me." And that was it. I showed her, she "didn't quite understand, let's try it again", and five minutes later I was on the changing table and the tapes were being patted down on an expertly-fitted disposable nappy. I had been outmanoeuvred again. I remembered that Gran had once been a nurse. "Are you comfy now, Dear?" she smiled, and something peculiar made me say yes. I ran a finger around the leg hole and adjusted the fit a little. All in all, it was a bit of a bad day.

I made no effort to put my jeans back on; it was very warm and I didn't need them in the nursery. I even went down to tea in just my cotton blouse and nappy. I couldn't care; my mind was on other things. Gran had made a fabulous tea for us, but I wasn't hungry; I just sat and fidgeted. Grandpa was back home now, having just retired, and tried to cheer me up, but I wasn't interested. I wandered out into the garden, barefoot on the cool grass, and watched the squirrels run away from me up the tree. They seemed all right; I envied them. I heard Sis's voice coming out of the nursery window, and realised that it was her bedtime already. I wandered down the lawn and sat by the pond, and flicked bits of grass into it. I dabbled my feet in the water, and suddenly wanted the lavatory urgently. Oh Bother! I just sat there and wet myself thoroughly. It seemed like the only thing to do in the circumstances. And damn Gran.

"Hello! I'm Peter. What's your name?" The voice startled me. There was a boy of about my age sitting in the tree beyond the hedge. I replied that I was Juliet, (it sounds much more grown-up than Julie, which is what everyone calls me) and he asked if I was living there now. I replied that I was just staying while my mother was in hospital, and threw some more blades of grass into the pond. He said that he had been living next door for the last few months, and there were no other children in the area and he had no-one to talk to. With that, he swung onto another branch like a monkey and dropped lightly into our garden. I suddenly remembered that I was sitting there in a soaking wet nappy that even now was bulging out between my legs. I had no way to escape, so I sat there and did the best I could to cover it with the bottom of my blouse. He came and sat down beside me. He was about my age and maybe a little older, but fair-haired, and quite handsome in a way, with an impish grin.

"Are there any fish in there?" he said. I replied that there probably were, but I didn't know. We talked about school, and the usual things, and then it came. "Pardon me asking, but why are you wearing a nappy?" he said "You're obviously not a baby are you." I replied that I had a little problem and my Gran made me wear it. I was certainly not a baby. "That's cool!" he said, "I haven't worn them for years. Do you wear them at night as well?" and I replied that I had to. "Cool!" he replied. "Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

Just then, Gran called from the house; "Julie, come along, its your bath-time now." I told Peter that he had better go now, and he said "Yes, I'd better go too. Can I see you tomorrow?", and I said yes out of sheer habit, then he ran to the foot of the tree, climbed it like monkey, and disappeared over the hedge. I got up and walked as calmly as I could towards the house, my nappy now drooping and bulging, but I looked back and saw Peter waving over the hedge. I waved back. I don't know why.

Gran was waiting for me in the nursery. She removed my blouse and my wet nappy without any comment, and then asked "Was that the boy next door you were talking to?" and I said yes. "He seems a nice lad." she said. The bath was already full and Gran picked me up and put me in it. I normally bathe myself, but tonight Gran washed me all over, and scrubbed my back. I just sat and played with the plastic duck, keeping my thoughts to myself, answering Gran's chatter with simple yes or no. Gran helped me out of the bath and towelled me quite vigorously and thoroughly, and then led me through into the nursery. This time there was a nappy already folded on the changing table, and I made no resistance as I was picked up and placed carefully in the middle of it. I lifted my knees to my chest while the ointment was put on and smeared all around, and then again for a cloud of sweet-smelling powder. I made no movement at all, and Gran spread my legs and drew the thick nappy up between my thighs and up nearly to my navel. I realised it was newer, larger and thicker than the old and much-used ones that Gran normally kept for me, and groaned. Gran spoke soothingly, saying she wanted me to be as comfortable as possible and to have a really good night's sleep. The pins went in one after the other and the heads were clicked down. I felt very bundled up, and very secure. It was not unpleasant. Gran then took some frilly white plastic pants off the shelf, scrunched them up with her hands through the leg-holes, and guided them on over my ankles and up my legs to my nappy. The plastic was cool against my legs on that warm evening. She lifted me by the ankles, a manoeuvre that surprised me, and slipped the waistband under my bottom, and then slipped her hands in at the sides and bought the front up to my waist. She ran her hands around the legs, making sure the elastics were pushed up into the nappy. I knew this was done to prevent any leaks, but it actually felt quite nice. I was now more thickly nappied than I could ever remember, and lay back on the changing mat not caring a bit. I was thinking about Mum, where she was and how she was what she was thinking. I wished I could have talked to her.

Gran brought a short white nightie to me and put it over my head. It barely reached the bottom of my bulging plastic pants, and buttoned up to a collar at the neck. The sleeves were short and puffed, and there were some pretty pink flowers embroidered over the front yoke. I stood up, and was quite surprised to find that I could walk at all in such a thick nappy. I crossed to the window and looked out. I saw Peter strolling easily up the garden next door, and it occurred to me that our garden could also be seen from his house. He might have seen me walking down towards the pond in my nappy and blouse. He waved. I waved back. I then realised that my lower half was clearly visible in the full-length window and he must be able to see what I was wearing, so I drew back quite hastily.

Gran said I could go down to say goodnight to Grandpa, and so I waddled down to the sitting room, where he was watching something on television. I didn't know him that well, as he always seemed to be at sea or abroad. I waited a few moments, my knuckles in my mouth, before Gran came up behind me and pushed me gently towards him. "Here's Julie, come to wish you Goodnight." she said.

He turned towards me and smiled, "Hello Julie!" he said, and reached out to give me a hug. I was in the market for any number of hugs at that moment, and went to him gratefully. He picked me up and sat me on his knee, and I smelt that old-man smell, like leather, which they all seem to have. "All secure down below are we?" he said, which I understood to mean did I have my plastic pants on and so I wasn't going to wet on him like Sis might have done. He held me close, and I realised that I was trembling. "Now don't you worry about your mother. She is in the very best of hands, and she's going to be alright!" he said. I wished I could really believe him.

Gran reappeared with a large blanket, which she laid out on the settee next to dad. She picked me up, and put me down in the middle of it, and gently wrapped it around me, quite tightly, folding my arms against my chest, and closing my legs together, so I could hardly move. Once I was swaddled she held me on her lap and produced a bottle and teaspoon, and poured a dose of medicine into it. "This will help you to sleep." she said. It tasted quite nice, and I swallowed it. Then, to my amazement she produced a baby bottle full of warm milk, and slipped the teat into my mouth. I started to feel warm and sleepy, and sucked steadily at the milk. My eyelids became heavy and the next thing I knew it was morning, and the sun was pouring in through the windows. Gran was standing beside the bed and holding Sis, who was already dressed.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty!" she said. "It's a lovely morning; how are you feeling?" I found my body and then my voice, and replied that I was OK. I extended my feeling down my body and moved my legs, which felt like lead. When I moved them I became aware of a great area of clamminess around my bottom, and I realised that I was very wet. "Breakfast is nearly ready, are you going to get up today then?" I stretched and yawned, and Gran drew the bedclothes down and slipped a finger up the leg elastics. "Oh, we had better deal with this." was all she said. I stood up slowly and realised I was swaying. Gran put Sis down and half-carried me over to the changing table, where she pulled my nightie up and my plastic pants down. The air hit the wetness of my nappy with a sudden chill, and I woke up some more. Gran removed the pins one by one and the nappy flopped down, to be retrieved and dropped into the pail. "Julie wet her nappy!" piped Sis, as Gran produced a baby wipe and wiped my bottom and between my legs. "Do you need the loo?" said Gran, and I shook my head. She unfolded another disposable and I allowed her to tape it on to me. I didn't need it, but those were Gran's rules. I put on a dressing gown and we went down to breakfast. Grandpa was sitting at the end of the table, reading the paper, and Gran had Sis harnessed into her high chair opposite me. Breakfast was always good at Gran's and I was very hungry. I ate a splendid meal, and washed it down with fresh orange juice.

Then I remembered Mum, and I asked Gran if there was any news. Even Sis went silent; she had realised there was something wrong. Gran smiled. "No news yet. Her operation is this morning. We should hear the result by lunchtime. There's nothing to worry about; these operations are very routine and there is very little risk." I asked when we could go and visit her, and Gran replied "Not today. She will be sleeping off the anaesthetic all afternoon. Tomorrow maybe." And with that I had to be content. Gran changed the subject. "What would you like to do today?" she said. I hadn't thought about it, Mum's op had loomed so large, and I said just anything would do. "How about the zoo?" said Gran. "Those penguins are still there, and I understand there are some bear cubs too, just born this spring." That sounded good. "And perhaps we could invite that young lad from next door, too. Peter isn't it? Would you like that?" I nodded. He was quite nice, and if we went to the zoo I could compare him to the monkeys at my leisure. Like Peter, I had no friends in the area, and I felt slightly sorry for him. Grandpa was press-ganged as driver, and Gran went to the telephone to talk to the lady next door. She came back to say that Peter's mother said he would be delighted to come.

Cheerfully I went upstairs to get dressed. I slipped my nightie off over my head, Gran peeled my nappy off, and I went into the bathroom for a shower. When I came out all refreshed Gran was waiting for me. On the changing table was a folded nappy and frilly pants, and beside them was a short sundress. My strapped shoes were waiting on the floor, and I was having none of it. I went to the chest of drawers and got out my tee shirt, my jeans and my trainers. And my pants. I turned around to see Gran in the middle of the floor, arms akimbo. I was in for a fight. "Remember last time we went?" she said, "I had to change you twice. You were soaked. And you were wet last night and wet again this morning." I stood my ground in front of her, arms akimbo. I told her that I was not a baby any more and I would not go out in public in that ridiculous dress and pants, and I certainly wouldn't go to the zoo if Peter could see me dressed like that. I would dress my age.

The doorway filled with Grandpa. I had never seen him so big before, and he seemed to dominate the whole room. "Well said!" he growled, "Let her wear what she will. Jeans and tee shirt is a much more sensible rig for going to the zoo."

Gran fumed; "She must wear some protection;" she said, by which I presume she meant a nappy, "It's quite a long way and we don't want any accidents on the car seats. She had two accidents last time." She turned to me. "And you wouldn't want an accident with Peter there, would you?"

"Very well," said Grandpa, "One of those paper things, and her jeans and tee shirt, then. Now shake a leg, and I'll get the car out. Muster in ten minutes on the driveway."

It took a little longer than that. Gran put together a picnic in record time, and I helped get Sis ready. She was now bubbling and excited. I put a couple of changes in the bottom of the pushchair for Sis, and then Gran appeared, checked everything, and ostentatiously added no fewer than three more disposables for me as well, and a pair of my plastic pants, with a hard glance at me. I had tucked my tee shirt carefully in to conceal the top of my nappy, had checked three times to make sure that it was not visible under my jeans, and was bouncing up and down on the front lawn when Peter came running easily up the drive, wearing tee shirt and jeans and carrying a knapsack. I had got it just right.

The zoo was much more fun this time, it was full summer instead of midwinter, and I wasn't bundled up in an overcoat and having to trail alongside Sis's pushchair. Peter and I ran ahead to each enclosure, leaving Grandpa to bring Gran and Sis along behind. Peter did some wonderful impressions of the animals, particularly the hippos, and we stared in awe at the dolphins. We walked down a tunnel and saw the dolphins from underwater. One of them swam with its belly close up against the glass and I was astonished to see that it had a navel, just like me. I smiled at the dolphin, and it suddenly let loose a jet of poo straight against that glass opposite my face. I jerked backwards, and the dolphin swum away laughing. Peter and I looked at each other and we both collapsed with the giggles.

At lunchtime we had our picnic on the edge of the hill. I asked to go to the loo, and Gran came with me. I had been very careful to keep my nappy dry, and refastened the tapes, although it was clammy and not very comfortable. There wasn't a changing room, so Sis was changed in the open, on the picnic blanket, in full public view. At least I had been spared that indignity. Grandpa went to get some ice creams, and was gone quite a long time. Peter demonstrated how he could turn cartwheels, and I wondered if he tried one downhill on that steep slope, whether he would ever be able to stop, and he told me he would test it out and see. He managed to stop, but only just. He offered to teach me, but I was hopeless. We ended up in a wrestling match, which I think I won, although he was plainly much stronger than me. At least I ended up sitting astride him and pinning him to the ground. We were both hooting with laughter, and I found it fascinating to feel his body was so much harder than mine. I sat up and brushed my hair back from my face and tried to clear the bits of grass from my hair. Peter put his hands on my waist and began tucking in my tee shirt. I realised suddenly it had come loose and the top of my nappy was showing above my jeans for everybody to see. I tucked it in round the back with desperate speed, and then our hands met at the sides. We just stayed there for a moment; it felt so strange.

Gran called us over. Grandpa had come back with the ice creams. He smiled at me and said "Julie, I've phoned the hospital and spoken with your father. The operation was successful, and your mother's going to be fine." I felt quite giddy for a moment, as though a huge weight had been lifted from me. Then I hugged Peter and he hugged me, and Grandpa lifted me up and hugged me, and Gran was crying and laughing. "Julie wet her nappy!" piped Sis. Wrong! But I didn't care. My tee shirt was pulled out again, but I didn't care. People were looking, but I didn't care.

I asked if we could go and see her straight away, but Gran took my arm and said that she would still be sleeping off the anaesthetic, and Dad was there anyway. We would go and see her tomorrow. That was quite good enough, and Grandpa closed the matter by handing me a large ice cream cornet, so I was otherwise occupied for some time. Gran produced a packet of baby wipes and we were able to clean up the sticky bits. I had never dreamed of this use for them, and had a giggle with Peter over it.

We lay back in the grass in the warm sunshine and talked intermittently. We spotted shapes in the clouds. In one of the sleepy silences there was a soft whistling noise from above, and a glider passed overhead, rocked its wings and turned back the other way. I asked Peter if he had ever flown in an aeroplane. He replied it was what he wanted to do when he grew up. Either in the RAF or the Navy. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grandpa's head swivel and his eyes lock on to Peter. I decided to change the subject, because I knew that once Grandpa started talking about the Navy he was very difficult to stop, and I didn't want to lose Peter to him. I asked Peter where he went to school, and he mentioned a big county town some distance away. Apparently he took a little train in every day and had lunch there. I asked why he didn't go to the local school, and he said his parents didn't think it was good enough, so they paid a lot of money for him to go to the big school. He had just moved up into the senior school and was looking forward to joining the cadet force. He looked wistfully up at the gliders. Grandpa was obviously listening closely, and I had to keep the subject moving. I had worked out Peter was a year or so older than me, and I didn't want to give that away. I wanted to keep his respect, which was a bit of an uphill battle in the circumstances. I asked him if he could ride a horse. He said that the rest of his family rode - they were "horse people" - and that, as a result, he had learned. There was a riding school in the village and he took lessons there. I stored the fact for future reference; if I could get dry it would be useful to know where riding lessons were available in congenial company.

Gran asked me "Are you comfy, dear?" and I realised what she was really asking. I replied that I was perfectly comfy, and I was. It reminded me that I intended to stay that way, and so I got up, and said that I would be back in a minute. Before Gran could reply I ran down to the toilet block, and locked myself in a cubicle. I was certainly not going to be changed on the picnic mat, in plain view of everybody, including Peter. I was dry, but the nappy was now all clammy and horrible with perspiration. I retaped it afterwards, tucked my tee shirt in carefully and left the cubicle. Gran was outside with the changing bag. She bent down and whispered, "Good girl, but would you like a fresh one?" I nodded, and she took me back in and changed me standing up with me holding the back up to help her. It felt much better, and I tucked my tee shirt in very tightly.

When we came out, Grandpa had already packed up the picnic, and was standing by the pedestal telescope with Peter and little Sis. He was sweeping the horizon with it, and I went over and asked him if he could see the sea from there. He replied that, sadly, he couldn't. We moved on to the end of the slope and the penguin pool. Peter walked beside me, and we held hands. We went and watched the chimpanzees, and I felt sorry for my earlier thoughts comparing Peter with a monkey. They were horrible and hairy and ugly and nothing at all like Peter.

At the end of the afternoon I think we were all tired. Sis was asleep in her pushchair, and we returned to the car with some sense of relief. We had done the zoo, almost every single animal, including the baby bears. The car was roasting hot inside, and Grandpa opened all the doors to let it cool down a little. Gran decided to change little Sis, so Peter and I had to wait while she was doing it on the back seat of the car - where I had suffered a few changes myself - and Grandpa collapsed the buggy and stowed it in the boot. Peter reached around me very gently and started tucking my tee shirt back in at the back. I let him continue. It felt rather nice. Then he put his other arm around me and tucked in the rest. I rested my hands on his shoulders, and looked into his eyes. I didn't care much for boys, but I was beginning to think Peter was different. Grandpa called "All aboard" and we got in the back, with little Sis in her chair on one side and me in the middle. Peter and I held hands all the way back.

When we pulled into the drive, Peter's mother came around the corner and spoke to Gran. She seemed a really nice person, and thanked Gran for looking after Peter for her. She had a job to go to and Peter was a bit too old to have a sitter or a nanny. I envied him that. Gran said she was delighted to take him and she hoped to do so again soon. I was delighted to hear that, and tried desperately to think of other expeditions we might make. I turned to say goodbye to Peter and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. He didn't let me go for a moment, and then kissed me back very lightly on my cheek. "Julie wet her nappy!" piped Sis. Peter's mum laughed, and I realised in a dreadful moment that my tee shirt had pulled out again at the back, and a band of nappy was clearly visible. There wasn't much I could do, but I just made sure that I faced towards Peter's mum when they went down the drive towards their own house next door. When Peter reached the corner, he turned and we waved goodbye to each other.

When I was on the changing table that night, Gran was asking me about Peter, and I was still dreaming about his face as he held me in the car park at the zoo, and the strange muscular body I'd held between my legs on the Downs. I was saying how much I had enjoyed the day and what fun we'd had and I really hoped we could go out together again. "I thought you didn't like boys?" said Gran, and I replied that I didn't, but that Peter was different, and Gran smiled gently at me in a funny sort of way, part kind, part sad, and said she was sure we would see him again soon. Then she pulled me to my feet and pulled my plastic pants up to my waist and I let my nightie down over them.

I lay awake for a long time in the stuffy nursery. Then I was back at the dolphins' aquarium looking through the glass, as one of them swam up and smiled at me. "Back for more?" it said, and before I could do anything it came straight through the glass towards me, and the water rushed through beside it. I tried to run, but my feet wouldn't obey me. I saw Peter up ahead, and reached out my hands to his, but he was always just out of reach. I called to him, but still my legs were held, and the water began to rise and rise towards my waist. Peter was reaching out for me, but I couldn't get to him, he was always a few inches away. My nappy was soaking wet, and it was dragging me down further and further away, and I was trying to get rid of it. My body was tingling all over as I tried to reach Peter. Then Gran was there brandishing the strap in her hand and telling me that whatever happened, I mustn't take my nappy off, it was there to keep me comfortable and keep the bed dry, and Mum was there saying that I would have to wear nappies forever now because the dolphins had said so, and the smiling Peter was still out of reach and I was calling to him and the hot water was rising higher and higher and Gran was saying...

"Julie, Julie, Wake up! Wake up!"

I was back in the nursery, panting and in a cold sweat, the nightlight was on, Gran was leaning over me smiling, and the walls were there and the ceiling was there, and reality slowly reassembled itself within them.

"Were you having a bad dream, Child?" she said gently. I swallowed and nodded. "I heard you calling for Peter. You were thrashing about in your sleep. It must have been a bad one, Dear, but never mind, it's alright now." She placed a cool hand on my brow. "I think you had a bit too much sun today, you've gone quite red." My breathing slowed. I pulled the bedclothes down to cool myself, but the stuffy air of the nursery seemed even warmer.

"Can we have a window open?" I asked, and Gran glanced over to where Sis was sleeping soundly, thought for a moment, and then went to the sash window and opened it a few inches. It seemed the cool night air reached me almost immediately, and my skin began to tighten. Gran returned, and slipped her fingers inside the leg of my pants.

"Oh Dear! I thought so! Never mind, we'll get you changed."

"I'm sorry, Gran, I couldn't help it. It was all the water rising around me..."

"Never mind, Love, that's what your nappy's for. It's why you have to wear them, isn't it? To make sure that if you have an accident it doesn't go any further than that. Thank heavens you had one on. Let's get you changed." I groaned.

"Come along now, we don't want a dose of nappy-rash do we? You know what the old treatment for that is? Lots of sun and air, so it means wearing double nappies without any plastic pants. I don't think that would impress Peter, would it?" I groaned more loudly and staggered to my feet.

She pulled the waistband down and started to remove the pins, then she pulled the pants down, and extracted my nappy from the back. The cool night air hit me and I realised how wet I had made myself. "My! It is a wet one!" she exclaimed. "You must have had a lot to drink yesterday, but then I suppose that's really a good thing in weather like this." She wiped my bottom with the part of the nappy that was still dry, and led me towards the changing table, where she dropped the soaking nappy into the pail. She passed me a handful of baby wipes. "Now wipe yourself down properly, while I get another one ready. Do you need the toilet now?" I shook my head. "Are you sure?....Quite sure?" I nodded twice. It had all gone. She folded another nappy, and put one of Sis's small ones in the middle to boost it. "Sit yourself down, Pet, we'll have you warm and safe in a moment." I obeyed quite gratefully, and it felt reassuring to be wrapped in soft, dry towelling, and even the bulk between my legs made me feel secure; I knew that when I had a nappy on there wasn't much that could go wrong. Gran took a fresh pair of plastic pants from the shelf, and slipped her hand through the leg holes, held my feet baby-style while she slipped them over my ankles and then took my hands and pulled me to my feet before pulling the pants up to my waist. The pillow of plastic was cool between my thighs, and it actually felt pleasant to be so protected again. I waddled over to the window, and took several breaths of the cool air, and felt it course though me as the last of the sweat evaporated.

"Does it really stop? I've been doing so well recently, and now I seem to be back to square one, needing changes in the night like a baby. Do you think I'll ever be able to get out of them?"

"I'm sure you will be soon. You've had a lot of stress, with your mother's operation and all. It's just your body's way of reacting. I think it would be better if you went back into nappies full-time for a while, just until this is all over. Then you won't need to worry about anything on that side of things; it'll take some of the stress off you. We'll let you have Baby's Rules, use them when you need to and we won't nag you about it. I don't think it will delay your drying-up. With your mother it happened all at once. Something clicked, and she was dry. Much the same with Emma, too. Your mum did say you'd been doing well. I'm sure it's just around the corner, you just need to relax a bit. Have a bit of a holiday from it all. You're a dreadful worrier, and it all feeds back to more wetting." I disagreed, but was too drowsy to argue.

Gran finished straightening my bed, and took my elbow and guided me back to it. I suddenly felt very tired, and climbed in gratefully, although I left the bedclothes down. Gran pulled them up, tucked them it and said; "Never mind, Dear, you can have Baby Rules; if you need to use your nappy again, you won't be blamed, that's what it's there for. Now sleep tight, and think of happy things. Mum will be back soon."

"Will Peter be here tomorrow?" I said.

Gran's smile widened. "I expect so. He's a nice boy isn't he?" I smiled and nodded, and Gran kissed me. I don't remember her leaving me.

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Chrysalis

The following morning I was sitting on the table again. Gran was standing in front of me holding a disposable ready to put on me and I was stalling. I pointed out that I had been dry all day before, all round the zoo, "...despite what Sis kept saying," and she conceded that. She then countered that I had been wet yet again this morning. I said that it was only a little tiny bit and that I had woken up and managed to stop it before I soaked myself. She digested that for a moment, and nodded. I didn't tell her what that had cost me in gritted teeth and loss of sleep. Then she said that we were going to the hospital this afternoon, and that was the last place to have an accident. I pointed out that they had a department especially for accidents and emergencies, and Gran laughed at that. Unfortunately my joke hadn't made my point properly, and I was losing the argument. I told her about my embarrassment with the tee shirt pulling out of my jeans and my nappy showing round the top. She thought for a moment and said she had a way to make sure that didn't happen. I had then lost the argument for that day at least, and I lay back and accepted the inevitable. Afterwards, Gran told me to stay there for a moment, and then she came back with a long tee shirt with snaps at the bottom, a "onesie" in fact. I've got no idea where she got it from, but she is a very good dressmaker, and she might have made it. She put it on me and did it up underneath. It made my nappy very tight, but that was no bad thing. She took my denim shorts and put them on over the top, and I could then see the whole effect. The tee shirt fitted me perfectly, and nothing was visible in the legs of the shorts, and there was no "pillow" under my bottom, just one smooth curve, and no panty lines. I was delighted. I had lost the argument, but I had concealed my nappy very effectively. Gran examined me from all angles, and approved. "Baby Rules!" she said; "If I insist you wear a nappy, I won't blame you if you need to use it!" and she gave me a pat on the bottom.

I went out into the garden, and wandered down to the pond. I kept my eye on the branch over the hedge, but there was no sign of Peter. I laid back in the grass, and chewed gently on a straw, watching the clouds. The swallows were keening overhead, and an airliner crawled across the sky leaving a vapour trail. I was starting to get a nice tan. Still no Peter. Perhaps he had had second thoughts about going out with a silly little girl who was still in nappies. His friends would certainly rag him and bully him about it. Perhaps he had had enough of me and my silly prattle. What was it I had said that was so offensive? Had I bored him? Had his mother managed to put him off me?

"Hi, Julie." He sat down beside me. "How are you today?" He must have come in the front and walked quietly down the garden. I sat up and smiled at him. He was wearing a white shirt with a blue check and denim shorts, and his long legs ended in sandals. He had a better tan than I did. "How's your mother?" I replied that I had phoned Dad and she was fine, but very sleepy yesterday at least, and was looking forward to seeing us that afternoon. Peter said that he was very pleased to hear it. We talked about all kinds of small things, and I admired his tanned legs, and compared them with mine. With that he unbuttoned his shirt, and he was tanned all over his chest. He leaned back, and I rolled over onto my stomach so I could look at him, propping my chin on my hand. He grinned at me, that impish grin, and I shuffled a bit closer until I was almost over him. He lifted one hand and gently brushed a lock of hair away from my face, and then stroked my cheek with his fingers. If I had been a cat, I would have purred. With my free hand I began to trail my piece of straw across his tummy. He laughed and grabbed my hand, we had a brief struggle and I ended up sitting on top of him again, looking into his eyes. He ran his hands down the sides of my body to the top of my thighs, and I subsided slowly on top of him.

"Julie wet her nappy!" piped Sis.

I jumped up. There she was with her teddy bear in one hand, and her other thumb in her mouth, its usual location. She was wearing a little pink yoked dress with a short skirt, ending in a bulge of frilly pants below the hem. I had to smile. There are times when I could strangle the brat, but she is very cute. All dressed up for the hospital, clean and scrubbed for once. I took her gooey hand, and started to lead her back up the garden. "I'm sure Gran doesn't know you're out here." I said, "Don't you think you had better go and see her?" and lifted her gently over the step of the French doors into the lounge, propelling her gently towards the kitchen. Gran would be somewhere in there, and probably already wondering where Sis was. I returned to Peter beside the pond, and sat down. He was laughing. I poked him in the ribs, "Stop laughing at me!" I snapped, "It's no fun having a baby sister, you know, she's always in the way!"

He stopped laughing, and looked at me. "It must be nice to have a sister," he said, "I don't have one. Or a brother. There's just me." I forgave him. I sat down beside him again.

"Why don't you take your tee shirt off?" He said, "And get a bit more of a tan."

I replied: "I can't. I haven't anything underneath."

"Pull it up, then, at least you will get some sunshine."

I thought for a moment and then I said: "I can't do that either. It fastens underneath." Then I took my courage in both hands, and said: "Doesn't it worry you that I still wear nappies?"

Peter turned and looked at my shorts and looked at me. "I didn't know you had one on today," he said, "It doesn't worry me at all. What you have on down there is entirely your business, not mine. You told me that you don't need them and it's only your Gran that insists. I take your word. Of course. Still, I think you do look rather cute in them."

I was on a roll here. "What do you mean "cute"?" I was kneeling beside him, sitting on my heels, and leaning forward to hide my face behind the curtain of my hair.

"You look like you need someone to protect you, someone to look after you," a pause, "someone to love you." He said and cast his eyes downwards, "and I would like to be that person."

Bingo! Got him! Problem cleared! Close the sale! Softly I said "I would like you to be that person, Peter." And then I moved my face close to his.

There was a piercing shriek and a great big splash.

Peter sprung to his feet, took two enormous strides and plunged into the pond up to his waist. He seized the pink mass and raised a coughing and spluttering Sis. He lifted the now-squalling toddler to his shoulder, ignoring the trail of weeds and stinking black mud that trailed down from her and tried to wade though the deep mud to the bank, but was having great difficulty in moving. I stopped my frantic hopping up and down, and reached out to take Sis from him. She grabbed hold of me and brought her load of water and mud onto my tee shirt, plastering me from head to toe. Peter struggled to the bank. He was solid black mud. He fumbled into his shorts and produced a wildly flapping fish. "Look, you do have fish in there!" he said.

Gran arrived panting. Running down the garden was not her usual pastime. Grandpa arrived a moment later, Sis's shriek must have penetrated even to the hallowed ship-clad walls of his study. Gran reached out to take Sis, but I said no, she was utterly filthy and there was no point in four lots of clothing being spoiled. I carried her up the garden and into the laundry room, and lowered her into the sink. I peeled off her clothes, turned on the water, and remembering to be careful of the temperature, I began to wash down the wet and blubbering toddler. Gran came up behind me with a huge bath towel, and when the bulk of the mud had gone, and she was mostly pink, Gran wrapped her in the towel and carried her off towards the nursery. I went back outside. Peter and Grandpa were standing at the bottom of the patio. Grandpa was immaculate of course, but Peter was almost completely black with mud. He had fallen on his face while struggling out of the pond. I was hardly any better, with trails of mud from Sis all over me. Grandpa was laughing as well. "I'd better rig the hose." he said.

Peter and I hosed each other down, and the black mud went away in streaks. I was now completely wet, and Peter stripped off his shirt, and then his shorts. Even his underpants were black with mud. I laughed at his embarrassment, and said "What you have on down there is entirely your business, not mine. Any more fish in there?" He grinned back at me. He actually looked very good with his tanned body streaming with water, and he certainly had an athletic build. I was beginning to think that there was something to boys after all. All good fun, but I now had a problem. I really should get rid of my clothes before entering the house, and avoid treading mud and water everywhere, but my clothes now included my soaked and swollen nappy, and Peter was right there in front of me. I made my excuses and slipped back into the laundry room, and divested my clothes into a dripping heap on the draining board. I found another bath towel, and wrapped it around my chest in sarong style, and threw my wet hair over behind my shoulders. I caught sight of myself in the scrap of mirror and approved. All I needed was a big flower to tuck behind my ear, and it would have been perfect. I grabbed another towel, avoiding the pink ones, and especially the square white ones, and took it out to Peter. He was still standing there, and had stopped dripping. He picked his clothes up and was looking a bit lost. I gave him the towel, and gestured towards the laundry room. "Don't worry, I'll wash your clothes." Then a thought struck me. "I'd lend you some underwear," I said, "but I'm afraid I'm limited to just one type at the moment." He laughed.

"I'd better go commando then. After all, it's just next door."

I didn't know quite what "go commando" meant, but I could guess. I might even ask Grandpa sometime. "Oh, what a pity!" I replied, "Some other time. You'd look so cute..."

Grandpa took Peter home. I retired to the nursery and cleaned up properly. Gran's wonderful onesie was awaiting the wash, Gran was still busy cleaning every square millimetre of Sis, and so I had the chance to pick my own clothes. I decided to be sensible and laid out a clean blouse and a skirt., some sensible shoes. And pants. My hair would take hours to dry. Tough. We were nearly at the hospital before Gran thought to ask, and by then it was too late. I don't think she would have liked to have a row about it in front of Mum, so I had finally won that round. "On your own head be it". She said. More like "on the hospital floor be it", I thought.

Grandpa had some more interesting news. When he had taken Peter home, he found that he was "home alone", his father being abroad on business, and his mother had had to go to the north at short notice on her own job, Peter was stuck in the house with a TV dinner in the freezer for his supper, and expected his mother home late the following day.

Gran was horrified. "He's a good lad, but that's too much at his age. What if something happened?". Something had happened; Grandpa had invited him to supper and to stay the night. Peter had accepted instantly. I was thrilled. Peter would have the Third Bedroom - Grandpa ranked his bedrooms as though they were lieutenants - opposite his study, and some way down from the nursery.

A thought struck me. "Gran, if he's staying, can I sleep in one of the other bedrooms tonight, instead of the nursery? It's a bit humiliating to have to share with Sis and her nightlight." As soon as I said it I thought it was wrong. I should have prepared the ground first.

Gran replied; " I don't think so dear. The fourth bedroom is quite a long way from us, and I would have to move your waterproof sheet there as well, and I don't think it would fit the bed. Besides, I want to keep both of you kids within earshot, in case you need anything in the night, such as a nappy change." Blast! That round to Gran! I would have to try again later, more slowly next time.

We found Mum sitting up in bed, looking rather pale. She had no make-up on, and looked a bit older. Sis squealed and made a dash for her, but Gran was holding her toddler reins, and skilfully steered her clear of Mum's operation site. Good thinking Gran! Sis never normally tolerated reins. Mum embraced Sis carefully. I followed more delicately, not least because I was holding the grapes. Gran and Grandpa organised some chairs, and solicited a brief report from Mum about her health. She told us that the operation had gone very well, although she had been right out of it all through, and she expected to be home in about a week. Gran nodded sagely. She was the expert in such matters, having once been a nurse. Mum then asked Gran if we had been good, and Gran confirmed that we had been no trouble at all. That was somewhat tactful, considering Sis's nautical expedition. Mum then asked me what I had been up to, and I told her about yesterday's visit to the zoo, and all the animals we had seen, and at some stage I must have mentioned Peter's name. Mum stopped me. "Who's Peter?" she asked. I felt my cheeks burning, and Gran quietly said;

"The boy next door. A nice lad. A really nice lad." Mum and Gran looked at each other and Gran said pew-something "has sprung to life and opened up one eager eye." Mother grinned and replied; "Better send the troops out in a hurry". And they both cackled at each other. I didn't understand the joke. It must have been something private between them.

Mum looked at Grandpa quizzically. "Fine lad." he said. "Wants to join the Navy." I thought that might come as news to Peter, but from Grandpa it was about the highest possible form of praise.

Mum smiled at me and said: "I'll have to meet this Peter sometime." and I suddenly felt much better.

Mum turned to little Sis and squeezed her. "And how have you been, Little Angel?" Anything but an angel, I thought. I braced myself for the usual remark about the condition of my nappy, but what came out was worse. "Fell in the pond" she bleated. Mum looked sharply at Gran, who looked sheepish. "This morning. Only for a moment. Peter fished her out straightaway, and Julie helped him. She had got out of the house through the French doors and wandered down the garden. No harm done." Except perhaps to the poor fish, I thought. Peter's shorts must have come as quite a surprise.

Mum looked sharply at me, and I wiped the smile off my face. "Why weren't you watching her?" she said.

Gran said: "It wasn't Julie's fault. Sis had got out of the nursery and wandered off. Thankfully Peter and Julie were close by the pond when it happened." The tension eased. "We might think of a spring on the nursery door" Gran continued. Collar and lead on Sis, I thought, and a picket. A big stake nailed into the nursery floor. Or a ball and chain. But then Sis was usually my ball and chain.

Mum relaxed. "I suppose I must think myself lucky I never fell in that pond when I was small," she sighed "there was no "Peter" around in those days."

"What time is Peter coming round?" I asked Grandpa as we left the hospital.

"Not until six." was the reply. "We've got plenty of time."

"Can we drop by our house?" I asked, "There's something I want to pick up."

That was easily accomplished. Gran had a key. I picked up my red bikini. A bit pretentious at my age perhaps, as I had nothing much to put in the top part, but I would try to match Peter's suntan if I could, and I wasn't such a little girl as I could get away with just the bottom. Gran came in behind me. I grabbed a pair of pink cotton shorts and tucked the bikini inside, and chose my most grown-up-looking dress from my wardrobe. No smocked top, no shirring on the bodice, no school gingham, no puffed sleeves. This was dark crimson, low necked, tailored, and the works. I rifled my stock of underwear, but with less success. They were all cotton "little girl" stuff, and they suddenly seemed terribly inadequate. They would have to do. Just make damn sure Peter never sees them! Gran merely helped herself to another bag of my disposable nappies. It looked like the fight would go on. I turned back to see if there was anything I had forgotten. Marguerite, my favourite doll, whom Dad had brought back from France last year, was still lying in the middle of the bed where I had left her. I had meant to take her with me, but forgot. I picked her up, and stroked her hair, and then put her on the shelf with all the other dolls.

Peter came promptly at six. He was scrubbed and brushed, and was wearing slacks and a tie. He looked very smart, very grown-up. I had finally sorted out my hair having spent about twenty minutes brushing it. My dress was perfect, and I had left off the wretched ankle socks. Gran hadn't even attempted to get a nappy on me. Round to me!

I had won and lost over the seating arrangements. Peter was to sit next to me, and little Sis opposite in her high chair. I had tried very hard to get Gran to feed Sis separately, and put her to bed, but without luck. I had to accept that she was much too busy. Peter's table manners were beautiful, and I felt so proud of him. Gran compromised by removing Sis after the sweet course; her table manners were awful, naturally. That left Peter and Grandpa and me. All went well until Grandpa asked Peter what he wanted to do in life, and Peter told him about his ambition to become a pilot. Then Grandpa told Peter that he used to "drive an aircraft carrier for Mrs Queen." and I groaned inwardly. They were off. I trailed behind up to Grandpa's study, normally forbidden ground, and tried a couple of times to enter the conversation, but was lost in a world of turbines and knots and arrester gear. They all sounded painful. Peter goggled at the portrait of Grandpa in full uniform with all the medals on his chest and the gold rings on his sleeve, and Grandpa took his uniform coat out of the wardrobe for Peter to admire. I was completely sidelined, and quite relieved when Gran called me to take a bath.

I was standing by the changing table, waiting my turn. Sis was making a fuss about being nappied, as she so often did. Tonight I could hardly blame her, as it was very warm and humid, and the prospect of being thickly nappied with plastic pants over the top was not appealing at all. She was rolling from side to side, kicking with both chubby little legs against her nappy as Gran tried to draw it up between them. Then Sis made the mistake of kicking with alternate legs, and Gran speedily slipped the nappy between her feet, brought the front of it up over her and began to pin it. Nice try, kid, but it doesn't work. The wretched thing will be put onto you whether you like it or not, and will stay there until morning. It's all about control, and Gran is determined to control you. Sis's hands were clenched with frustration, but the baby pants went over her ankles without resistance, and then the job was done. Sis's sleeper was pulled down and the snaps inside the legs were closed. She was lifted off the table and lowered into her cot, still wriggling and complaining. Her blanket was drawn over her and her bottle was applied, finally cutting off the flow of objections.

And then it was my turn. More dignity here. Style! I mounted the table like a princess going to martyrdom, raised my nightie at the rear and laid myself back elegantly. My pose was rudely shattered when Gran, strong as ever, picked me up by the ankles and slid a nappy under my bottom, and followed it a moment later with a daub of ointment, which she spread firmly about me, followed by a cloud of powder. My legs were parted, and the front of the nappy appeared at the bottom of my vision before it descended again to meet the sides coming around my waist. Pins were drawn from the bar of soap, and I was secured, quite firmly, first by the pins themselves and then by the double click as the heads were locked down. I thought this was supposed to make it impossible for me to remove the nappy, but the thought only gave me a smile. I closed my eyes and relaxed as the familiar ritual proceeded. Gran was tired, and in a bit of a mood, and the nappy was tighter than usual. My legs stayed spread from the thickness of the towelling. I reached down and my hand met the cool smoothness of a pin, and I fingered the shape of it idly. The towelling around it was very soft; the nappy must have been very new. After a short delay there was a rustle of plastic and the pants appeared in her hand. Oh! White ones tonight, again. How original! With all the elegance I could muster I raised and pointed my feet and graciously allowed her to slip the pants onto my legs, watching them as they took their cool smooth progress up to my thighs, where the elastic began to grip me. I lifted my bottom, and the waist was pulled up behind me, followed by the front. The leg elastics were pushed up into my nappy to give the whole thing its rounded puffy shape. That's the way to do it, Sis, with dignity. As much as you can muster. Once you are in, you are in for the night, warm and secure. I felt the nappy tight against my bottom, and the pillow of the plastic pants between my thighs. It wasn't so bad at this end of the process. It was the other end that was undignified and messy. "Are you comfy now, dear?" The ritual question and the ritual answer.

"Yes, thank you, Gran, very comfy" and I was. I was warm and secure; my fears of wetting were gone, it was all somebody else's problem now. I sat up and Gran pulled my nightie down, and spread it over my pants. No babyish crotch snaps here; this was the latest London Fashion. I didn't need to be locked into my nappies, I wasn't going to take them off in the night.

Then I looked up and saw Peter, standing in the doorway, watching me being nappied with that impish grin on his face. "Hi!" he said, "I came to say goodnight." There was a short delay and then "I think you look really cute."

Sis, who was now sitting up in her cot watching everything promptly said "Julie wet her nappy!" and I came very close to doing it.

Gran harrumphed and said she would go and get my bottle. I could have killed her for that alone. I watched her leave the room. I tried to get my legs together but it wasn't easy because my night-time nappy was so thick. Peter came over slowly. There was no escape, and, my cheeks burning, I desperately tried to think of something smart to say, but Peter just reached out slowly, and brushed his fingers down behind my ear, very tenderly, like stroking a cat, tucking my hair back. I let him do it. Then he came right up close, raised my chin, looked into my eyes, and kissed me on the lips, very softly. I felt a tingle, which went all the way down my body to my very toes. My arms, of their own volition, went around his neck and I kissed him back. Not softly. For a few moments I was on another planet. Then Gran's footsteps came back along the passage.

I pulled away from Peter and almost jumped into my bed, pulling the blanket up over my legs. If Peter got a flash of my enormous nappied bottom I hope he thought it was cute. No waddle down the hall to say goodnight to Grandpa this evening. No television. Gran came into the room, and no joking, she was carrying a baby bottle full of milk. She would just have to ruin it. Peter laughed again and deftly removed the bottle from Gran's hand. She stood there thunderstruck. "Let me do this, ma'am" said Peter. "We'll only be a few minutes, and I'll make sure she takes all of it."

Gran harrumphed again, and said "Five minutes, then, no more." and to my amazement, left the room with Sis's empty bottle.

Peter turned his gaze back to me, and very gently pushed me down onto my bed, and pulled the blanket up to my chest. I was staring at him open-mouthed, and he slowly slipped the teat in between my lips. I sucked on it in pure instinct, and then swallowed. "That's the idea, then, there's a good girl." He winked. I almost choked with laughter, but the teat filled my mouth and kept me silent. I continued to suck on the teat and a warm tingle spread like fire, slowly all down the length of my body, and I decided that there was really something to warm milk after all. I wrapped my hands around his on the bottle and my legs tingled and writhed with pleasure. They wanted to run and run, but the rest of me just wanted to hold Peter tightly. Then my legs, still splayed by the thick nappy, wanted to hold Peter tightly as well. I wanted to drag him into me. All too soon the bottle was empty, and I was sucking air. Peter withdrew it gently, and whispered "Goodnight, sweet Princess, sleep well," - he kissed me on the lips. He Kissed Me! -"and stay dry!" I could feel that he was perhaps a bit too late there, but he drew the blanket up to my chin, stroked the hair from my face once more, then tiptoed softly to the door, turned the lights right down low, and closed it behind him. I didn't dare move in case I broke the spell.

The next morning I was soaking wet again. Bitch! It must have been the milk that did it.

Gran was not impressed, and a disposable nappy was slapped firmly onto the changing table, and then opened out to receive me. A tee shirt and my pink shorts were also there. Damn! It meant that Gran had also found my bikini. The row went predictably. I didn't need a nappy in the daytime, yes I was wet last night, but that isn't the same - In her book if I was wet in the night I had to wear a nappy the day afterwards "just to make sure". ... Mum didn't do this to me - Perhaps she should: rules are rules.... I wanted to sunbathe - That's later this is now. My bottom hit the exact centre of the nappy. (Oh, to be big enough not to be picked up like a doll!) Last resort; I began to cry. I don't want Peter to see me like this - After last night? He knows full well you're still in nappies. The tapes were peeled and patted home. Argument over. Round to Gran. "Julie wet her nappy!" piped Sis. More tears.

My pink cotton shorts were a much looser fit than my denim ones were. The legs were, if anything, even shorter, and I suspected that my nappy might have been visible at the back of my legs. It certainly bulged in the crotch and about an inch of nappy showed at the top. It rustled when I moved. I was in despair! I might as well have not worn anything over it at all! I put on my bikini top and tee shirt. At least I would stake my claim to go sunbathing later. I checked in the mirror, and still looked ridiculous. I screwed up my courage and went down to breakfast. Grandpa dropped his paper to wish me a good morning, and then dropped it a little more, and raised one eyebrow, before raising the paper again. Peter just smiled, and took my hand. I sat beside him, and we ate breakfast slowly together, while Gran occupied herself with Sis. Afterwards Peter helped us to clear the table and did some drying-up, which must have earned him plenty of brownie points with Gran. I went into the laundry, put an apron on and started to wash the muddy clothes from yesterday. I thought I would make a point of washing Peter's clothes before Gran did so. Gran came in, and said "Good girl, now let's put them in the machine and you can go and play with Peter." And I did so. Gran untied my apron and gave me a pat on my rustling rump to drive me out of the door.

Peter was waiting for me on the patio and we wandered off down the garden. He was carrying the picnic rug from yesterday and he suggested that we spread it by the pond. I demurred, and picked a spot just below the terrace wall, which formed a suntrap. It was also invisible from the house, not just from Gran, but particularly from Sis. We lay down beside one another and let the sunshine soak into us. It was very warm; I dared myself to remove my tee shirt, and I won the dare. I looked down and saw my bikini top wasn't quite as empty as before. Perhaps I was putting on weight. I looked further down and saw the top of my nappy showing all round. What the Hell! Peter knew all about it and accepted it and wouldn't comment. I laid back onto the rug. Peter was playing with a straw. He reached over with his other hand and took mine. "You didn't tell me your grandfather was an Admiral." he said.

"He was a kind of Admiral," I replied, "Rear or Vice or something like that. I don't know the difference."

"Rates of pay, for one thing. The Rear -Admiral only looks after the rear of the fleet."

"And the Vice-Admiral looks after all the drinking and smoking and swearing!" I replied, and we both laughed. He tickled my chest with the end of the straw, and ran it down my tummy in a series of scrolls. It stopped near my shorts where the top of my nappy was clearly visible..

"You lost the argument, then." he said. "I heard it going on."

"I don't win them all," I said, "and I was wet again last night. Too much milk, I think. That bit with the bottle was Gran's joke. I never normally drink after supper, let alone from a baby's bottle."

"I thought she was trying to humiliate you. That's why I took it from her. Caught her a bit by surprise, I think."

"She was. You did. She was trying to exercise control over me, and you thwarted her. She said it was her rule that if I was wet in the night, I had to wear a nappy for the following day, just in case."

"That's tosh. They are entirely separate things. I used to wet the bed sometimes, but never had an accident in the daytime. Nobody ever tried to humiliate me." I looked hard at him. This was an admission. Even Peter had his flaws. Or had once had them. And he was confiding his secrets in me. I took his hand and held it against my tummy. The tingle came back.

"If you don't need it, why don't you just take it off?" This was sedition indeed! All my life there had been one firm rule: Never take your nappy off! It's there for a purpose! I told Peter this. I told him about the strap. He was horrified that anyone could hit a child with a leather strap. He thought for a moment.

"You've just got to break that rule sometime, and show that it is wrong. They have you so much under their control, with the nappies and the bottles and the rules. You've got to break out sometime." He moved his hand across my tummy, his little finger running along the top of my nappy, making it rustle. The tingle intensified. I was breathing quite hard. He was right. I had had quite enough of nappies, particularly in the daytime. I wanted more of Peter.

I rolled over towards him, and his hand slid around my waist to my back, actually slipping inside the waistband of my nappy at one point. His lower arm came round my neck, and I rested my head on it. I raised my knee over his leg, and his hand moved downwards over my buttock to my thigh, and rested just inside the back of the leg of my shorts, touching my nappy where the elastics went around to seal it, and one finger slipped inside.

"I'm not wet. You needn't check me!"

" I'm sure you're not. Is that how they check you? I didn't know."

"That, or a pat on the bottom of the seat. To feel if it's heavy, or to smell if it's dirty."

"Yuchh! I think I would rather avoid that!"

I giggled. "So would I! Would you change me if I was wet?"

"Of course. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"It's not so uncomfortable, until it gets cold."

"You had better tell me when you are wet then, and don't delay!"

"Don't worry, I shall make sure to. I would like to see if you really knew how to change one. I bet you don't!"

" I bet I do."

I grinned, and then had to brush my hair away from my mouth. Then we kissed, spontaneously, and held it, held it for an age. His hand moved up from my leg all the way up to the small of my back, slipped inside the string of my bikini top and pulled me to him firmly. The tingle inside me exploded.

We lay back. My fingers continued to trace a pattern on his chest. It seemed as if they moved of their own accord.

"How much did you see last night then?"

"I only saw her pulling up your pants. Honest. I thought it was an unnecessary indignity."

"Not really. They were needed as it turned out. It's horrible waking up in a wet bed."

"I mean the bit about having your legs hoisted like that. Couldn't she allow you to put them on yourself, if they are all so necessary? You're a big, beautiful girl now, and almost grown up." I marked the compliments. I also noted that I didn't have my legs hoisted for the pants, but only for the nappy. He must have seen it all. Tactful Peter! Slippery sod!

"I suppose I could. I know the process well enough. It's just important to make sure there are no leaks. That's why my night-nappies are so big. They have to last me for many hours, and perhaps several wettings. I really hate being changed in the night. To be honest, being nappied is about all the personal attention I get now, since Sis came along. She never stops."

"Do you think you will ever stop?"

"Yes. I do it less frequently now, and often I wake up in time, but its such a palaver getting to the loo, and getting it all off, and then getting it all on again securely. Strictly speaking, I'm not allowed to touch my nappy, and certainly not allowed to take it off. I would get my hands smacked if I put them inside my pants. Often it's easier to just carry on and wet myself. What I really need is an incentive. Mother has told me that if I get dry at night she will let me take riding lessons."

"There's a riding stables in the village. I go there."

"So you said. I'll try to see you there very soon."

"The sooner the better!"

Our lips brushed lightly. This time there was no explosion, just a warm soothing glow.

There was a crunch of shoes on the patio as Gran came towards us - bless her leather soles - and we straightened ourselves up. "Oh there you are." She said without surprise. I've had Peter's mother on the phone, and she is stuck up north for another day. I told her Peter could stay another night with us. Is that OK, Peter?" Peter expressed his thanks, and I felt undying gratitude for whatever had delayed his mother. "And we are going to see your mother at two o'clock. Be ready."

"Can Peter come?"

"If he wants to. Do you want to come, Peter?" Peter nodded

"Why not? I'd like to meet your mother."

We had a light lunch, and I returned to the nursery to change. There was now a baby gate across the door, and Sis had obviously been doing time in the large playpen that I last saw in the attic. I removed my nappy, went into the bathroom, and cleaned up. When I came out, Gran was there dressing Sis. She gestured to the changing table where a fresh disposable nappy lay unfolded and ready for me. I hesitated for quite a long moment, and then shrugged. I didn't want that row twice a day, certainly not if Peter was within earshot, and besides, I had taken a nappy off without permission, and now I could show that I could put one on myself without assistance. One step at a time from now on. When I was finished, I swung my legs off the changing table and was submitted to a careful inspection by Gran.

I had just slipped a tee shirt on, and pulled my hair out from under it when there was a knock at the open nursery door, and there stood Peter again. Gran passed over a pair of pink plastic pants with a baby print on them, and told me to put them on. I stood there stupidly and said "What for?" and Gran said "In case one of the tapes gives way in the hospital, silly." I froze for a moment. It was so unlikely that I had never thought of it. Peter smiled. He took the pants from me, sat me down on the bed, and scrunched the pants up so he had his fingers through the leg holes.

"Hup!" he said and I raised my feet. He slipped the pants over them and pulled them up my legs. I stood up with my hands on his shoulders and he pulled them all the way up, and ran his fingers around the elastics just like Gran did. She was standing there open-mouthed. I was shaking with suppressed laughter. I looked into his eyes. He smiled that impish grin of his, held my head between his hands and kissed me lightly on the forehead. Gran picked Sis up and walked out of the room.

As she passed I said "Thank you Peter, I'm so comfy now." And it was his turn to suppress laughter.

Mum was sitting beside her bed and was looking much more her usual self. She had even put a little "war paint" on and had tidied her hair. I suddenly thought that I should have warned her that Peter was coming. I introduced him proudly and he behaved impeccably, standing behind my chair, and even fielding Sis when necessary. Mum thanked him very formally for pulling Sis out of the pond, and he shuffled his feet with just the right level of embarrassment, and thanked her in turn, saying it was nothing really. I thought it was nothing less than heroic. It all went very well, but I felt that Mum was looking at me rather more carefully than usual. She gestured for me to go closer to her and she whispered in my ear "It looks like you've got a nappy on, dear?" and I nodded. My skirt was quite short, and I had not concealed it.

"Gran insisted." I said. Which was true. Mum sucked her teeth.

"Do you really need one, dear?". I shook my head.

"No, but it keeps Gran happy. She is afraid I might have an accident on the back seat of the car. Or disgrace myself in the hospital. She says that if I have been wet in the night, then I should wear a nappy on the following day in case of accidents .She even gave me milk in a bottle last night. Peter took it off her." I borrowed words from Peter, "She is determined to control everything about me I think its very humiliating."

"So do I. I think I had better have a word with her. Does Peter know about all this?"

"Yes, he understands. He supports me. I think I would be lost without him."

She looked me in the face. "That is quite remarkable for a lad for his age."

I took my chance. "He's quite a remarkable lad, Mum!"

She smiled. "I think it's time we had a long talk together and sorted some things out. As soon as I come out of hospital."

I smiled back. "I'll look forward to it, Mum." And I did. It was the best conversation I had had with her for months. It seemed to be on a different level. My opinions mattered to her. She even accepted that Peter's opinions mattered to me. She was right. They did. A lot.

I dropped into the loo before we left. My plastic pants were as hot as hell. I took them off, and didn't replace them, but folded them up small and passed them to Peter to hold carry for me as we went home. That was his turn to blush. He tucked them into his trouser pocket. I didn't tell him, but they were still visible from behind. We left the hospital arm in arm.

Dad came round to supper that night. It was later than usual, and Sis had already been put to bed. I was allowed to stay up late: another first! Dad was introduced to Peter, and seemed a little awkward with him at first. He took a cue from Grandpa, and was cordial with him, and warmed after he heard how Peter had saved Sis from the pond. By the time the three of them had retired to Grandpa's study they were much easier in each other's company. I didn't interrupt them, but through the door I heard the clink of the decanter and glasses. Gran gently fielded me and took me to an already-run bath in the nursery bathroom. She seemed quite surprised that I still had my nappy on, and even more that it was still dry, or at worst, clammy. Gran bathed me slowly and quietly, so as not to wake Sis, and I really liked the attention, but I was getting rather tired. When I was well dried she led me out wrapped in the bath towel and laid me carefully on the changing table. She took a nappy from the rack underneath, unfolded it and I lifted my legs and wrapped my arms around them while she kite-folded it on the lower part of the table, then I lifted my bottom a little and she slid it under me. It was one of the new ones, big and thick and soft, not needing a booster. This time I kept an eye on the nursery door, but the murmur of voices from the study was uninterrupted. I waited patiently while I was anointed and powdered, and only looked up at Gran when the nappy was being pinned.

"Gran," I whispered, "this is getting a bit stupid. It's terribly humiliating. I could do this myself you know."

Gran paused for a moment, and whispered back; "Yes, I suppose so. I would have to make sure you had done it properly, though."

"I can do it properly. I am the one who has to sleep in a wet bed if I get it wrong."

"We'll try tomorrow, then. Swing your legs around. Plain or frilly?"

What did it matter? "Anything." I thought of the pink ones, which were probably still in Peter's pocket, and wondered when and where he would discover them. I would like to be there when he did. Frilly pants happened to be on the top of the stack in "my" section of the table, so they arrived at my thighs in due course, and I stood and pulled them up around my waist. I tucked in the nappy carefully, and made sure the leg elastics were tucked up properly, and then gave it all a hitch to make sure it was fully up. Gran then passed me my little short nightie, which barely covered the pants, and my dressing gown. It was getting a little bit small for me now, like so many of my things. I tied the waist cord, and Gran gently brushed my hair so it fell straight over my shoulders smooth and untangled. I checked myself in the mirror, and was satisfied. A lot of leg was showing, but it was high summer, and still very warm.

Gran gave me a nudge and whispered "Let's go and say goodnight to the boys" and propelled me gently out on to the corridor. I was very tired now. I had forgotten my slippers, but it was very warm and I didn't need them. I went into the study suddenly becoming conscious of the rustle coming from my plastic pants with every step. Grandpa was sitting at the desk, and Dad and Peter were reclining in the big armchairs. Peter sat up sharply when I came in. He was looking a bit flushed, but grinning hugely. I made the rounds. Grandpa's feet came off the stool, and his cigar was placed in the ashtray, emitting a wisp of smoke. A leathery old man in a leathery old chair: quite at home. He hugged me and returned my goodnight. I kissed him, and managed to avoid most of the return kiss. I went round to Dad. I saw that the steel cabinet in the corner was standing open, and a shotgun was lying on the desk, long and gleaming blue-grey in the light of the desk lamp. There were empty balloon glasses in front of each man.

I went to Dad and he hugged me. "Be good, Princess, sleep well," and whispered, patting me on the bottom: "Stay Dry!" and I kissed him.

I went on to Peter who was now sitting up straight in his armchair. I saw a balloon glass on the arm. I picked it up and sniffed it. I was astonished. "Have you been drinking?" I demanded. There was a roar of laughter from all around me, and Peter wrapped his arm around my waist and span me into his lap, slipped his other arm beneath my knees and slid back into the great armchair so that my shoulders rested on one arm and my legs on the other. My dressing gown had fallen open and my frilly pants were clearly visible where my short nightie had rucked up. I was livid. I was a baby in nappies being rocked in a man's arms when I wanted to be treated as a grown-up lady in polite company. My second thought was relief that I hadn't chosen the transparent pants, which would have actually shown the nappy underneath, but it was still plainly there, nappy, baby pants, frills and all, and they were laughing at me.

I was just about to cry when Peter whispered in my ear: "Laugh with them, or they will laugh at you!" I laughed, and Peter reached over and pulled up the side of my dressing gown to save me any further embarrassment. I put my arms around his neck. I could smell the drink on his breath, and I hoped they had not given him very much, but I was pleased to see that he had kept his head and was protecting me. He hugged me closer against him, and I put my face into his shoulder. He ran his free arm down my side and patted me on the frills of my pants, and whispered in my ear: "Let's get you to bed now, darling. I've had enough as well." I nodded. His use of "Darling" didn't sink in until later.

isHis use of "darling"

Peter slid to the front of the armchair, and rose to his feet with me in his arms. I am not that small, but he was obviously very strong. He said a cheerful goodnight all and turned towards the door. Grandpa leant forward, pointed at the shotgun, and said "Remember! Peter!" and they all laughed again. I waved goodbye as I was manoeuvred carefully through the door.

Peter carried me down the passage. I began to struggle: "You can put me down now. I am not really a baby to be carried to bed."

Peter grinned his impish grin again, and tightened his grip. "Not a baby being carried to bed, but a bride being carried over the threshold." I stopped struggling and squeezed him tightly. Once inside the nursery he lowered me carefully to the floor beside my bed, reached down, and turned the covers down. Then he peeled my dressing gown off my shoulders and picked me up again, with his hands round my waist, and lowered me onto my bed. My arms were around his neck again. They seemed to go there of their own accord now. I was standing on the edge of the bed, and looking down at his face, and I kissed him goodnight, long and slow. I picked my legs up and this time they did get to hold Peter. I slithered slowly all the way down the front of him until I was sitting on the bed. He swung my legs into the bed, laid me down, and drew the covers up to my chin. He stroked the hair from my face, kissed me once more on the lips and said "goodnight Princess", and then turned and went to the door. Dad was standing there, with a glass in his hand, and smiling gently, he waved at me and mouthed a "Goodnight". I smiled and blew him a kiss. They went back up the passage with Dad's arm around Peter's shoulders, and I sunk slowly down into a world of beautiful dreams.

In the coolest hour of the summer's night, with only the barest streak of light in the east, I woke with an urgent need to pee. I began to calculate the options.

Option One: I could get up, walk to the loo, peel my nappy down (would I have to undo one of the pins first?) Use the loo. Pull my nappy up (refasten the pin?) tuck it all in, flush the loo, and return to bed without waking Sis. Benefit: dry nappy in the morning (probably) and no nappies in the day. Drawback: fuss and palaver. Risk: Waking Sis, and finding she screams for a change. Big scene and Gran would beat me for taking my nappy off. I thought of the strap hanging on the back of the nursery door, and shuddered.

Option Two. Sleep on (If I could). Benefit: as above. Risk: I would drift off to sleep and wet myself anyway.

Option three: Wet my nappy. Go back to sleep. Put up with nappies tomorrow. (What do I say to Mum?). Try to mug Peter into changing you at some point in the day. Groovy!. (Which Demon said that? ...Come on, Demon, own up!). I ran through the options one by one by one and my mind drifted away.

Eventually I left it too late, the Demon won, I let it all go into my nappy. "There's a Good Girl!" sneered the Demon, "Widdle-widdle into your nap-nap and then wait for Gran to change you. Don't risk upsetting her by acting your age and taking it off and using the loo. Why not have a nice soft crap in your nappy while you're about it? She'll be delighted! Then she'll have the excuse to keep you in nappies until doomsday, and you'll both be happy. Oh, what a lovely comfort- trap!"

"I want to strangle you, Demon!" I thought, "Better this than be bent over Gran's knee and thrashed with that strap again."

"I'm inside your head, and a part of you. You can't strangle me!" laughed the Demon, "Do you really think Gran would dare to thrash you with Peter and your Father and Grandfather here? Oh, your poor little bottom; it could be quite an entertainment! Would they all stand and watch and cheer her on? Would they count the strokes out loud? Would they take turns with the strap? Wouldn't any of them stand up for you? Not even Grandpa? Dad?...Peter? You could even cry "Et tu, Peter!" as he delivers the final stinging blow! And the silly insipid little girl stays bent over and blubbing because she lacks the courage to stand up and fight!

"Come off it, Girl, get real! She only did it that time because only you and she were here. She wanted to impose her will on you. She wanted to keep you as her baby and relive the time when she was a mother and mattered to the world."

"That's outrageous. How can you say that kind of thing!"

"I have to. I'm a Demon. It's my job." It replied, "Look on me as a dramatic construction if you like, but you know what I say is true. Gran's frightened about your mother finding out what she has been up to. Your mother would be wild if she knew. Look how she reacted when you turned up at the hospital with a nappy on! You are content to wet your nappy because that way you get attention in the same way that little Sis does. You can control your bladder if you want to. You can stand up to Gran if you want to. You can win Peter's love and even his respect if you only have the courage to. Isn't Peter worth the risk of a spanking?"

"Peter loves me!"

"Peter thinks you're a pretty baby girl and he pities you, and he will be content to pat the frills on your baby-pants until he finds someone better. True love needs respect. Showing courage will get you that respect. Dammit! You're an Admiral's granddaughter! There's fire in your veins from generations of warriors! Unless you take action this day you will never have another chance! How do you fancy staying in nappies....Forever?"

The Demon's arguments tumbled and jumbled in my mind until sleep overtook me.

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Catharsis

I missed the first cockcrow, but woke to the first Sis bleat. Bitch! Wet again! Then I remembered. I ran through all that happened yesterday, and what happened in the cold grey light of dawn today (Where did that phrase come from? I don't often see a dawn.) I came to some conclusions. Firstly, I was changing in some way, and that way must be the pew-something word that they had told me would happen at some vague and undefined date in the future. Puberty! That's it! I was changing from a child into a woman, taller, with longer legs, and different shapes. Boys were stopping being a boring nuisance and turning by some chemistry into...well...something rather nice. I thought of Peter, and wondered if he was awake too, in his room down the passage. It was a warm, warm feeling to know that he was so close. There were other things going to happen to me, too. Not always nice, but essential. One thing was certain. I was growing up at last, and the slow years of childhood were dropping behind me. In a blast of light I realised that I would now be able to direct my life as a wanted it, and in a second revelation I realised that it would be down to me to make a success of it. I sat up and looked around. I was sitting in the corner of a nursery with a baby in the other corner. I was sitting in a bed with a waterproof sheet, dressed as a baby, and wearing a soaking wet nappy and frilly baby pants. And I was growing up, and should put aside childish things. Putting aside the nursery, Sis, the nappies and the pants should be my first target. Something that Gran had said one Christmas came to mind. Mum had wet the bed until she was twelve. Then she stopped. I was at that point right now. Now I could stop. No more peeing into a nappy. I would brave the cold, I would ditch the nappy and have a really good pee. Never mind the noise. Never mind waking Sis. Never mind what Gran might do. Peter had shown me that she could be stood up to, and he was here to support me. Mum would surely be on my side. Riding lessons. New clothes, ones that fitted me rather than shapeless kiddie-bags. Do my hair differently (No, maybe not: it's actually rather nice as it is. Peter obviously likes it). Shape a new Julie!... Juliet?... Why not?

I laid back on the pillow. Eww! The clammy wetness had spread right around my loins. When would Gran arrive to take my nappy off? Dammit! Get a grip, girl!

I climbed out of bed, walked across to the loo, slid the nappy and pants down and stepped out of it all. Then I thought again, and picked the horrible thing up and removed the pins. "Locking heads" my ass! "Mustn't touch your nappy" my ass! "Must wait for someone to change you" my ass! "You'll have a wet bottom" my ass! Oh.... it is my ass...and it is wet! I wiped myself quickly with the (small!) dry part of the nappy and slung it into the pail. The lid fell down with a crash, so I picked it up, and banged it back on. Wake the dead if I had to!

I started the shower and ran the water until it was warm. I washed myself all over. I shampooed my hair. I examined my body, very carefully, and with some satisfaction. I washed Julie down the plughole, and Juliet then left the shower.

I left the bathroom to find Gran standing there with Sis in her arms. Her glance took in me, the plastic pants still lying on the floor, and the dripping shower. "Are you all right, Julie?" Julie started to rematerialise, but I put a stop to that.

"Juliet. Please. Yes I'm fine. Very fine. I hope I didn't hold you up."

"No, dear, were you very wet this morning, then?"

I stamped on Julie's fingers. " I wet myself because I had to have a pee in the middle of the night and I'm not even allowed to take my own bloody nappy off!"

"Julie wet her nappy!" piped Sis.

"Shuttup Sis!"

"Juli...et, her name is Amelia" grinned Gran. "And we'll have no bloody swearing in front of the child, if you please!" Child. Singular. Not including me. Things were obviously changing.

"Shut up Amelia then!" I laughed. Gran laughed. A wall had been broken down. "You'd better fix Si...Amelia then, she's starting to leak and you'll get wet too."

Amelia was whisked into the bathroom with the usual fuss and bother.

Amelia sat on the changing table, wrapped in a towel. Gran was patting her dry. "So how often has this happened, then?"

"You mean wetting deliberately? Quite a lot recently. It's either that, or try to take the nappy off, have a pee, flush the toilet, put the nappy - or another one - back on again and pin it all up, and go back to bed. Try not to wake Sis, sorry, Amelia, get back to sleep, and probably wet the nappy again anyway. And you and Mum have always made it absolutely clear that I mustn't touch my night-nappy and when it's on, it's on for the night. I've obeyed that. You spanked me, and very hard, when I took it off once, and that strap still hangs on the back of the door."

Gran froze with a horrified expression on her face. She looked straight at me, and I saw her eyes were watering. "That was years and years ago, and still you remember that?"

"Of course I do. It hurt like hell, and I have never wanted to die so much as I did then. Every time you close the nursery door the strap slaps against it to remind me."

"Oh Julie, I'm awfully sorry. I lost my temper with you. I shouldn't have done it. I'm so sorry." She shook her head and a tear coursed its way down her cheek. "I'd long since forgotten that the strap was there." She went to the door and took the strap off the hook, fingered it for a moment, and then threw it hard into the wastepaper basket. Both her cheeks now had tear streaks on them. I started to feel so sorry for her.

"I suppose I had been very naughty." I said, "I certainly never took my nappy off again until today." Gran took me in her arms and kissed me.

"You've been wet in the day, quite often, were those deliberate too?"

"You put the nappies on me and often I had no choice. I just got used to it; it was the easy way out."

"What about the other evening before Mum's op., you were very wet in the day then?"

"That too. I'm sorry, I was terribly worried and depressed, and I just couldn't be bothered."

"Was that before you met Peter?"

"About two minutes. You don't think I'd have done it in front of him do you?"

Gran chuckled. "I am surprised he didn't take off and go straight back over the hedge."

"So was I. If there'd been a hole handy, I'd have jumped into it, but, oddly, he seemed to accept it very easily."

"Maybe he likes them?" said Gran, sucking her teeth.

Oh! Get thee behind me, Demon! "Perhaps he does." We were silent for a moment. Then we both started to speak simultaneously.

"I think it's time....sorry..."

I carried on: "...That I put my own nappies on and take them off. I can look after myself in that respect. I've got to get out of this nursery even if it means I have to kick my way out of it. It's about time I took control over my own body and my own life."

"Right!" Said Gran. "...and about time!" she put her hands over Amelia's ears and growled "About bloody time too!"

Grandpa filled the doorway, in his dressing gown. I half-expected to see medal ribbons on his chest, and gold rings on his sleeve. "What are we swearing about, dear?"

"You are not swearing; I am. So What? You were a sailor, and all sailors swear all the time!"

Grandpa smiled. "Not the successful ones. If you swear all the time the words loose their impact. A good sailor saves that kind of language up for a real crisis, so the words can be used effectively." That, certainly, was news to me.

We explained the little crisis. Grandpa listened, nodded, and said: "Yes. About Bloody Time Too!...Well done. Good Thinking. Carry on!" and left the room. I stood at ease. Gran saluted his departing back. We both giggled.

I started to dress, and Gran dressed Amelia. We talked idly. Yes, Mum had had the same problem, and it had cleared up at puberty. I took the plunge, and asked Gran if she had suffered it too. She paused for a moment and then said yes. It ran in the family. It had been one reason she had gone into nursing, and also the reason for the large changing table. Gran told me that she had kept the nursery going after Uncle Percy had grown up because the first grandchildren were coming along, and she felt so useless alone in this big house. It had been in use through at least two generations, and possibly many more; the safety rails on the window were thickly layered in successive paintings. Now it was silent for most of the time, and Gran told me that she had spent months at a time alone in this huge house, a husk of a mother in the husk of a house. Her greatest pleasure was to fill it with children again. Children will grow up: that is their triumph and her tragedy. I pointed out that Peter was only a year older than me, and I had to go to bath at half seven and bed at eight o'clock and he was allowed to stay up late. My bedtime was hitched to Amelia's and she was barely two. Gran nodded. "There are obvious reasons why we have grouped you with Amelia, dear, and I must admit, I've not wished to lose you to adulthood too soon. I apologise if I have humiliated you. The solution is really in your hands. Or rather, in your nappy." I pointed out that Amelia was like a ball and chain on my leg and it was about time I had some freedom. I wanted my own life. Being hitched so closely to Amelia was making me start to loathe her. Once again, Gran froze for a moment.

Now was the right time. I pointed out that I was now much too big to sleep in a nursery with Amelia in her cot, that it was humiliating, and my comings and goings only disturbed her. Gran agreed, and said that I would move into the Third Bedroom this evening when Peter moved out. The Round went to me! She would move my waterproof sheet over when she changed the beds. So Round Won, but on points. We finished standing face to face along the changing table Gran bent, picked a disposable nappy out of the bag, and placed it ostentatiously on the table. I picked it up with equal ostentation, put it back in the bag, and kicked the bag under the table. We hugged.

There was no sign of Peter when I went down to breakfast, but Dad was there looking a trifle pale. Grandpa was hidden behind his newspaper as usual. Only a rustle of the Daily Telegraph, and Dad raising his eyebrows over his bloodshot eyes, met my asking the whereabouts of Peter. For a moment I wondered if they had devoured him during the night. Gran spoke. "He's still sleeping. Those two rascals kept him up until well after midnight. A lad of that age! And they plied him with strong drink! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! I don't know what I'll say to his mother."

Grandpa lowered his newspaper as though it were an ensign. "You don't have to say anything, my dear. In Nelson's day, boys of his age were leading boarding parties. It's high time he joined the men. He'll have to learn to handle his drink, and better that he learns in respectable company than behind the bicycle sheds."

"Respectable company? You carried him to bed in between you at an unearthly hour of the morning singing, "What shall we do with a drunken sailor?"". I cursed. I'd missed it all. Tucked up in my little bed and wetting my nappy. Men have all the fun!

Dad's voice came thickly from deep inside him. "It's a Man Thing. Don't worry, we rationed his rum. And his brandy and his whisky. He's young, he'll be all right. I wish I could say the same for me."

"You were up until God-knows-when talking about flying!"

"Ships!" growled Grandpa, "If we'd all been talking about flying we'd still be talking. Pilots can talk about flying until the cows have come home and died of old age." Unlike Dad, he seemed to be completely unaffected by the night's carousing. "If he joins the Navy he'll soon learn to handle mere drink! He's a promising lad, and I like the cut of his jib."

At that point, the "promising lad" came in the door; bright, scrubbed and showing no sign of any ravages from the previous night. He apologised for being late, with a strange creak in his voice, and sat down next to me. Our hands touched briefly, and squeezed. I poured him a glass of orange juice. He looked at it with some suspicion, and then drank it gratefully. The Telegraph was hoisted again. Dad closed his eyes. Amelia made a ghastly sucking noise. I asked Gran what time we would be going to visit Mum. She calculated for a moment, and I got that "you are about to be managed" look from her. "It's Peter's last day here. Wouldn't you prefer to stay and keep him company? I'll go to the hospital with your father." My antennae pricked up. They were obviously going to discuss me behind my back.

In my sweetest voice I replied: "But shouldn't I be there too. After this morning, we will have so much to talk about."

Gran smiled: "We will indeed. And many other things as well. But I think it would be better if I were to plead your case for you, or at least to prepare the ground. After all, I can do so with a certain amount of authority and experience, and can perhaps avoid too many expletives when doing so. Can you manage being left here with Peter?" Ah! No Sitter! Unless you counted Peter.

I replied: "Yes, I can manage Peter." He shot me a rapid glance, which I returned just inside the line.

An affirmative signal was received from Flag Officer Breakfast in the form of a grunt from behind the leader column and confirmed by a semaphore from his bushy eyebrows. Dad opened his mouth to query. Peter was looking at each face in turn to try to find clues. Amelia made an unspeakable noise. "Oh God!" said Gran, and looked at Dad, "It sounds like heavy business. She's your daughter and it's your turn." Dad's unusual paleness changed to green, spreading up from his neck to his ear lobes. His mouth worked, but no noise came out. Gran sighed; "Oh never mind: I'll do it. Men! Useless Things!"

"'Bout bloody time too!" piped Amelia.

I went as though to help Gran. She told me to stay behind "and look after the men!" which I did, revelling in my new status, and pouring the tea.

Grandpa dropped the paper enough to display one blue-grey eye and said: "Look out. One woman has already poured from that teapot." Which I didn't get at all, but noted that I was now a "Woman". It had appeared in Daily Orders.

Dad said: "For God's sake, Jack, she's still only twelve!" which ruined the effect. I murmured that, in Nelson's day, women of my age were probably leading boarding parties. Grandpa ignored this minor hit on his main belt armour, and offered Dad a kipper; Dad declined, remaining rather green. Round to Grandpa!

Grandpa then offered the kipper to Peter, who politely declined, which may have had something to do with my hand applying a sudden tourniquet above his knee. My plans to manage Peter did not include an aroma of stale kipper. Round to me. I made sure that Peter had lashings of my favourite marmalade, instead. Grandpa then polished off the kipper with delight. Poor Gran!

We spent the first part of the morning stripping Peter's bed, and mine in the nursery, and then remaking the Third Bed, starting with my waterproof sheet. I found this very embarrassing, but Peter tenderly lifted my blushing face out of the concealment of my hair, and kissed me softly on the lips. Three-Fruit Marmalade! Delicious! I told Peter of the conversation that I had with Gran, and that hopefully she would relay it honestly to Mum, and champion my cause. Peter felt that she would do it properly, not least because Grandpa would be there, and he wouldn't see his favourite granddaughter sold short. He said he was delighted that I was standing up for myself and making a fight. I thanked him for his support, and said it had given me the courage to do it. I told him about all the rules Mum had applied, and about not even putting my hand inside the plastic pants, not touching my night-nappies, and so on. It was a great relief for me to find a sympathetic audience, and I am afraid that I let myself go on a bit. It was certainly becoming a good day.

I managed to corner Dad on his own, and talked to him. I told him what had been happening, and his face went white with anger. He took the strap out of the wastepaper basket, and for a moment I thought he was going to use it on Gran. I had to hang on to his arm and pleaded with him, telling him about Gran starting to cry when I reminded her about it. He calmed down after a while, and I explained my plans and Gran's promises. I made him promise not to tell Mum about the spanking, as it was long in the past and it would only hurt her, and it certainly wouldn't help her recovery. It took quite a time, but in the end I got him to see my point of view, and I felt confident that my case would be presented to Mum honestly. Dad agreed that it was probably a good idea that I should not be there at the discussion; he said that there were also plans being laid about my education, and it would be a good chance to bring things to a head. We took the strap and threw it into the dustbin.

The full heat of the morning sun found me back with Peter in our suntrap under the garden terrace, sunbathing on the rug. This time my pink shorts betrayed only the strings of my bikini bottom, and I was wondering how I had ever managed to persuade Mum to buy it for me. It certainly wasn't very practical for swimming, but I had the dreadful school costume for that, and that monster was quite hopeless for sunbathing. Peter admired me. "No nappy this morning then? You won the argument."

"I won the battle!" I replied. "Now I'm responsible for deciding if or when I need any "protection" and for changing myself."

"You won't need me to change it for you, then"

" I don't think so, Peter," suddenly the Demon prompted me, "I doubt very much if you could do it properly."

"Bet I could!"

"Bet you couldn't!"

"When I'm your sitter this afternoon, I'm afraid I shall have to insist on you wearing one." He raised his eyebrows and looked down on me.

I poked him in the tummy: "The Hell you are! The Hell you will! You aren't sitting me; I am sitting you. I shall insist that you wear one!"

We had a sudden wild scuffle. I ended up sitting astride Peter again. I just wish I could work out how he manages that every time. I released his hands. They began to move very slowly up my arms to my shoulders, then down my sides to my waist, and, after a brief delay, as if consulting with higher command, continued their reconnaissance to the top of my shorts, where they located the strings of my bikini pants. I felt a gentle tug.

I touched the point of Peter's nose with my forefinger. "Enough! If I'm not allowed in my own pants, then you are most certainly not!" Peter's grin widened, and his hands retreated in the face of superior forces, and held a position on my shoulders. He drew me downwards, and after only token resistance, I began to yield, following my tresses down onto Peter. There was still a trace of Three-Fruit Marmalade in his kiss.

"You didn't get too drunk last night, then." I asked him. I wanted to hear more about this business, and pull his leg about being carried off to bed by the other two.

"Drunk enough. I'm never allowed to drink at home, and this was my first time. Most of that stuff was horrible, and I think your Grandpa was testing me. I was terrified that I would make a fool of myself. Your father was helping me out, pouring some of my drink into his glass. I think that's why he looked so ill at breakfast. I was very pleased to see you come in. The other two had been talking about the way wives always disapprove of their drinking sessions and how lucky I was to still be a bachelor. Then you came in, and accused me of drinking. That's why they were laughing; you were behaving as though you were my wife."

"Is that why you pulled me into your lap like that?"

"Yes. When they laughed at you I just wanted to hold you and protect you. I'm sorry if it offended you. I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No. I was upset when my nightie rode up and showed my baby pants, that's all."

"Sorry. Until then I didn't realise that you already had your nappy on. I tried to cover it up. Pretty pants, just the same."

"Cute?" I tested.

"More than that. You are a beautiful girl, and I was so proud to hold you in my arms. When I saw how uncomfortable you were I tried to get you out of the situation. I was hoping they would let me go to bed, too."

"Thanks for that. I was almost crying. Thanks too for the remark about carrying me across the threshold like a bride. That made me feel much better."

"One day, perhaps, we'll do that for real."

"One day, perhaps. I would like that a lot." And I kissed him softly and slowly.

At two o'clock Peter and I were standing in the hallway as the rest of the family set off to visit Mum. My Hair was in straight pigtails, held by bands at the side, and I was still in my sunbathing gear from the morning. I had discovered an excellent new way to apply sun lotion to my back and he was standing next to me, rather stiffly, as though he was on parade. We both wore our No. 1. Expressions: Pure Innocence. It was probably that which made Grandpa suspicious.

I had had another talk to Gran, and we had sorted out a number of minor points, and she was now going to discuss them with Mum and Dad at the hospital. Amelia was going as well to provide musical accompaniment. Grandpa inspected Peter carefully, and then did the same to me. "Very well. Now be good!" he intoned; "We'll be back about five." We waved them goodbye, and then Peter followed me back into the house. I tried the way of walking that I had learnt in dancing-class; putting one foot exactly in line with the other, so what hips I had would swing nicely. Once we had closed the front door, Peter came close to me and removed the elastics from my hair. I shook it free, shaking my head a few inches from Peter's face. After a very long time, we had to break, merely because I couldn't breathe fast enough. I slapped him on the bottom and told him we had work to do. He had to pack his clothes, alas, and I had to move mine from the nursery into the Third Bedroom. We ran up the stairs hand-in-hand, and packing the few things that Peter had with him took only moments. I recovered my pink plastic pants from the dressing-table, and took them with me down to the nursery. Peter followed. I was very anxious to avoid Peter seeing the little girlie cotton pants and trainer bras that comprised my lingerie, and, being a gentleman, he stayed back beside the changing table. I fastened my suitcase, and turned to see him examining the shelves beneath.

"How do you actually do these?" he said, gesturing towards the cloth nappies.

I thought it a bit of a strange request, but decided to bait him, so I went over and showed him. It occurred to me that there was something dreadfully familiar about this, and when I got to say "and I put my bottom exactly there..." He picked me up, and put my bottom on the indicated point. I giggled, and laid back, and tried to pull him down on me. He resisted.

"No!" he said "We have a bet. I don't think you really know how to put one of these on yourself." I demurred, and pulled the front of the nappy up between my legs, and fumbled a pin out of the soap bar. Somehow it all went terribly wrong, and I stuck myself with the pin, and ended up with bits of towelling everywhere, and a sort of lopsided fit to the whole thing. "Let's try again, said Peter, and as I withdrew the pins, he removed the nappy, refolded it, and slipped it back under my backside. "Maybe these are in the way," he said and undid my shorts. I grabbed his hand, to stop him. He said "I won't hurt you Julie, you know that, and you still have your bikini on." I relaxed and let him continue. This was certainly a variation on the usual changing-table routine. He pulled the front of the nappy up, and gave it to me. He found the pin where it had fallen, and tenderly pinned one side. "You put your finger underneath to guide it and stop it pricking." he said, and I tried the opposite side. I clicked the heads down. It was the first time in ages that I had actually done this. I sat up and Peter took my hand and helped me to my feet. He ran his hands around my waist and hitched the nappy up, and tweaked the fit here and there. Then he untied my bikini pants and whipped them off from under the nappy. I protested furiously, and he waved the pants over his head. I reached for them, the nappy promptly fell down and I had to catch it.

I returned to the table, and we experimented with different fittings and tensions, eventually settling on tight round the waist, and fairly loose between the legs. He picked up the pink plastic panties presented them to me with a grin and said "Hup!"

I lifted my feet, pointed my toes and Peter slid the pants up my legs, stopped to pick me up onto my feet, and then pulled them up around my waist, checking that the nappy was tucked well in at the leg elastics and straightening it all up. "How's that?" he said?

I tried bending, walking then hitched it back up, and said "Pretty good. I think it would pass Gran's inspection." I put my hand inside the pants, once so forbidden, and adjusted the nappy a little. "OK. Don't bother wrapping it up, I'll wear it home!" and Peter kissed me again.

"Thank you Peter. Now it's your turn." He froze for a moment. "Come on, we had a deal!" His mouth opened but all that came out were shapeless sounds. I lost my temper. I grabbed his hands, squeezed tightly, held his eyes in mine and said: "Peter, I've enjoyed your company, and we've had an excellent time. I've put up with being called cute, being patronised, being upended, being laughed at, being humiliated, being groped, patted, anointed, powdered, babied and finally and worst of all being nappied and left to wet myself. I put up with it because I love you very much. You're a wonderful man, and you have made me very happy, but if we are to go on from here, I must know that I can trust you to keep to your word. We had a bet on. Now you do your bit. Get up on to that table there, take off your shining armour, and put a nappy on. Learn the discomfort of them, the indignity, the humiliation, and the terrible insecurity that comes from the thought that you might be discovered, and laughed at. Learn what it is like to feel you're different from the whole human race, to be on one side of the window, while they're all on the other side, looking in and laughing. Learn how I have been feeling all these years. If you love me, even a fraction of how much I love you, then do this for me. Otherwise you and I will have to stand forever on opposite sides of that window, and I will always feel that you are laughing at me."

Peter looked at me for one long moment, and replied: "Juliet, when I saw you for the first time, my heart went out to you. I could see that you had a problem. I, too, have a problem: I'm most terribly lonely. My parents work all the hours there are to send me to that school, they have no time for me, and they drive me to excel at all things. I have had no time for friends or society, and my performance is always being supervised, assessed, documented, and reviewed, and the reviews can be painful. They turn the screws as hard as they can, if only to work out how much harder they can turn them. Those other children I know are arrogant, selfish, and obsessed with themselves and their possessions, and yet I know many are under just the same pressures that I suffer. When first I saw you walk down the garden, I realised there was someone who was just as lonely as me. When I spoke to you that first evening, it was the best conversation I'd had with anyone in a month. I took a long time for me to pluck up the courage to talk to you, and when you were called in to bed, I was in agony thinking I'd lost you, that I'd said the wrong thing, that you hated me, and that you rejected me. When you turned and waved, my heart leapt, and it was all I could do to stop rushing up to you and hugging you. When you accepted me, and your family accepted me with such kindness, it was like being reborn; I was a new person. I've watched you fight your battle, and I've tried everything I can think of to support and protect you. I have watched you spread your wings like a butterfly leaving its chrysalis, and I've revelled in your beauty. I might not have done everything right, but I'm only a boy, and you are the first girl I have ever loved. If I've humiliated you, I most sincerely apologise. I just know that I want to be beside you, to support you, because, in turn, the support of your love is what holds me up. If there's a window, I'll do anything to be on your side of it, and if this humiliation is how you want to test me, then I'll gladly undergo it."

Peter released my hands took a nappy from the rack, and folded it on the changing table. He took his shorts off, and then his pants (Good Lord, is that what they all get so worked up about?) and started to pin the nappy on himself. My limbs gradually unfroze. I didn't stop him, although I had long since forgiven any trespass he might ever have made against me. He was making a bit of a mess of it, and so without saying a word, I took over. I only stabbed him with the safety pin once, before I remembered to put a finger underneath it. I grabbed the first pair of plastic pants I could find, which just happened to be the frilly ones, and slipped them on him. The result was serviceable, and he looked appropriately absurd. With the last grain of anger within me I asked him "Are you comfy now, dear? You look so cute!" and I laughed at him. He laughed too. Laugh with them or they will laugh at you.

He looked up and smiled at me. "Fair enough. I deserved that." The last grain of anger evaporated. I felt myself going to him, into his arms, and no force in this universe could have stopped me. "Juliet, may I kiss you?" he asked.

"No,!" I replied, "No, Peter... I am going to kiss you." and I kissed him, very lightly, on this side of the mouth, on that side of the mouth, his top lip, his bottom lip, and finally in the middle of his mouth. The taste was just Peter. You can keep your Three-Fruit Marmalade now; the real thing is so much sweeter. He cupped my head in his hand, and held me against his shoulder, stroking me and rocking me quietly from side to side for a geological age.

The clock in Grandpa's study struck twice, breaking my reverie. I murmured "Why does that clock strike so funny? I would have thought Grandpa would have got it repaired."

"It's a ship's clock." replied Peter, "I asked him about it. It times the watches. Every four hours the cycle starts. It chimes one bell for every half hour, up to eight bells at the end of the watch. We have been round once this afternoon, so two bells is..."

"FIVE O'CLOCK!" we said simultaneously.

Hurry, hurry, super scurry. The nappies and pants went off in an instant, pins flew about wide open, I grabbed Peter's underpants and in my panic, tried to put them on. He grabbed them back and said: "No, No, that would really give everything away."

I hunted desperately for my bikini bottom, but it had vanished, Both Gran and Grandpa had seen me in it on leaving and it was essential that our clothing be fully intact when they returned. It was nowhere to be found. I raised my eyes to heaven to ask for help, and it was forthcoming. My bikini bottom was caught around the lampshade. I tried to jump up and grab it but failed. Peter tried and failed. After a few seconds thought I climbed onto his shoulders, and retrieved the bottom by pulling on one of its tie strings. I tried to put it on. I learned that it is not something to be attempted in a hurry. Eventually Peter held one side while I calmed down and tied the other, and then Peter tied his side. Then he kissed me on the hip beside the bow. I ignored him (but stored that idea for later!) and grabbed my shorts, almost jumping into them in my haste.

When Grandpa's key sounded in the front door lock, we were crossing the hall. I had combed Peter's hair, and put my hair back into pigtails. Our halos glowed. We adopted Expression No 1: Pure Innocence, and smiled our welcome to our family. Gran and Grandpa replied to our welcome with smiles, topped by Expression No 19: I Don't Believe It But I Can't Prove Otherwise, and examined every detail of our clothing. We passed muster. Gran apologised for their delay in returning, which was caused by rush-hour traffic. I silently thanked Heaven for the rush hour. Gran said: "Amelia needs a change; be a dear, Juliet, and put the kettle on while I sort her out. We've got a lot to talk about."

"I can change Si...Amelia." I said, and took her from Gran.

"Are you sure you can?"

"Of course. I've had some practice." What I really wanted was to check the nursery out, and rectify any shortcomings before Gran detected them. Amelia's change was not particularly deft, but serviceable; it didn't fall down, she could still breathe, and it probably wouldn't leak. I took her down to tea, and popped her in her high chair. Gran, with her usual efficiency, had laid the table despite Peter's assistance. We took our positions.

"I don't know if you want to discuss this in front of Peter," said Gran, "it's obviously rather personal. Peter started to rise. I grabbed him and pulled him down again.

"I want Peter here. When he's here, I'm not afraid of anything."

Gran smiled. "There's certainly nothing to be afraid of." She said, "We have talked things over with your mother, and we agree with what you said this morning. You are obviously growing up rapidly ("If only she knew just how rapidly!" the Demon muttered.) and it's time to make some changes. You are to take full responsibility for your bedwetting, nappies and all, putting them on and taking them off by yourself, and you will do any washing required. If you decide not to wear them, you will have to wash the bedding, and presumably face a certain amount of ridicule. We will regard them in the same light as a sticking plaster applied to a cut finger, in that as long as you don't bleed everywhere, then it's your business, and all you get is a little sympathy. Whether or not you wear them when travelling will have to be negotiated directly with your father.

"If you can become dry at night, we will reward you with riding lessons, and you may start them after you have been dry for one whole month. There is a good stables in the village, so you might want to do them here.

"Bedtimes are also to be later. Another hour has been suggested. It's obviously unfair to you to share with Amelia, either the bedroom or her timings, and as you say, your movements tend to disturb her. You are to have a room of your own, both at home and here.

"We understand that there have been some incidents with sitters in the past. You will soon be at an age when you no longer require a sitter, and so any sitter who might be employed to manage Amelia will be instructed to respect these new arrangements.

"Mother has also promised a shopping expedition, since it is obvious that you need some new more adult clothes, particularly in the underwear drawer." She looked sharply at Peter, who was staring into the distance wearing Expression No. 1, complete with shining halo.

"In the matter of education, in view of your father's recent promotion, and Jack's retirement, and certain other things, we plan to send you to a private school with an excellent academic record. I'm afraid it would involve a train journey every day, and you would have to have lunch there." Peter kicked me. I put my foot on his to keep him quiet. I mentioned the county town. Gran replied: "Yes. The same town as Peter, but at one of the girl's schools there. Peter would be on the same train as you, so you wouldn't have to make the journey alone. That would be from next year, of course; you have to be thirteen to go there. You are going to have to work very hard, but I think the end results would be well worth it."

"Now, have I kept my promise to plead your case for you?" I blessed her, and wept for joy, and hugged Peter until I feared I might break his ribs.

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Butterfly

Peter's mother returned that evening to reclaim him. I was dressed slightly more demurely for the occasion, but in such a way that I managed to show that I was not wearing a nappy this time. Unfortunately I forgot about the plastic pants and wet nappies dangling in mute accusation on the washing line, but I don't think she saw them, as she didn't go into the back garden. Eventually she prised Peter away from me, and I missed him sorely all evening, but he came round again every morning, and we spent many days and made many trips together. I realised that I could repay my debt to Peter by assuaging his loneliness, and with my love he, too, could spread his wings and fly. Peter and I even took Amelia to feed the ducks, and had tea with Gran and Mrs Grundy, so I could show off my new boyfriend and show I was no longer in nappies. I continued to wear them at night for a week or so, but I never wet them again, and so I just gave them up. I was very nervous that first night without them, and slept with one eye open, but now I've got used to making the occasional expedition to the bathroom, although sometimes I miss the comfort, security and attention that I used to get. I just have to think of Peter and all the other things I've gained instead. I don't know where the nappies went; presumably into a trunk in the attic to await the next problem child; I will do everything I can to make sure they don't get Amelia into that trap.

I did have one more talk with Gran. I wanted to clear up one or two loose ends. I asked why she insisted I wear nappies in the daytime, when she knew I didn't need them. She replied that she had been trying to get me to revolt, she felt it was about time that I did, and only when I really lost my rag would I have the drive to tackle the problem. I needed a real incentive to get me out of my comfort trap. I felt miffed at having been managed when I thought I was acting on my own initiative, but I had to agree that it had worked. Then I plucked up my courage and asked her what eventually made her dry out. She smiled gently, and said: "Oh! ...I met Jack!"

I realised then I had been well and truly managed all round, but I didn't mind at all.

Oh God! Is that the time? I must have prattled on for hours. Got to go now - Riding Lesson!

Aftermath

Twenty years on, and Juliet has her own children. She is trying very hard to toilet-train her little daughter, but today Peter isn't there to help her. He is far away with his Other Woman, a long, grey lady that he drives for Mrs Queen.

A thousand years on, and Juliet's umpteenth-great-granddaughter looks at an ancient leather strap, recovered from an archaeological dig into a waste tip of the Coca-cola culture, and now carefully preserved in a museum. The holoteacher explains what it was used for, and the child shudders and runs her hands over the seat of her discreetly protective underwear. She wonders what kind of people they can have been in those days.

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Many thanks for your appreciation and encouragement. I am now at work on a sequel set eight or nine years later (which has some legal advantages). It took two months to write, and then to tweak and polish, this story, but I hope I can now use the established characters and setting more rapidly. Once the character is established, they tend to write themselves, but filling out the initial stick-figure takes a bit of thought.

Doing Peter is easy enough for me, but I want to make Juliet credible. I have some difficulty in putting the mind of a 59-year-old man into that of a young girl, and so I really would appreciate some feedback from the ladies in the community on this.

Initially I put in the spanking scene after scanning that part of the site. I am aware that I am writing for a market. I didn't detail it, because I am not a believer in corporal punishment, but it served to provide the element of pressure on Juliet, and to dramatise the breakthrough that she made. I would like to know if this offends or echoes with readers.

Please feel free to comment!

Freswith

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Thank you so much for your wonderful story. I really enjoyed it. Based on my limited knowledge of girls (4 daughters plus wives and girlfriends), I think you did a good job with Juliet. The kissing may have gone a little farther and faster than a 12 year old would normally do, but there are some out there who would do the same. In any event, the story flowed nicely as written so even if no 12 year old would act that way I would still leave it alone.

While I try to avoid corporal punishment, I will use it under a few conditions. I would never use anything, but my hand. The pain I feel giving the spanking should be worst than the pain my child feels as I will do it over their clothes. Usually I only give 1 whack, but I have given as many as 5 for intentionally closing a door on someone's finger (that was the one and only time my oldest son who's 28 was spanked).

I don't think children should be spanked by anything, but a hand. Therefore, I didn't like hearing about the strap. However, the fantasy of a story allows things that in real life would offend. I've written stories using paddles even though hell would freeze before I would ever use one.

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  • 3 months later...

Thnak you for the feedback. I am just finishing a sequel, set eight years after the original, with Juliet and Peter grwn up, and of a legal age. Just one small problem...little sister Amelia has the same old problem and a very different character.....

Oh, yes, and a dog...

I'll post it chapter by chapter.

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Part II: Eight Years Later...

Pembroke

Hi there! Yeah, I'm feeling great! ....Yes, Goa's fantastic, and I got back about ten days ago, but I've just been so busy since then. I've been house-sitting for Gran and Grandpa. They've been off to the Caribbean for a cruise, and they'd asked me to look after the place while they were gone. Suited me fine! Peter was back from Dartmouth for a couple of weeks, they'd finally let him go, poor thing, and that suited me down to the ground. I looked out all my sexiest gear and established myself in Pembroke's "Second Bedroom", the big one with a huge king-size bed, where I lost no time in turning the bedclothes down. The Old Wrinklies had only been gone an hour when Peter's ancient MGB crunched and rattled up the driveway. We hadn't seen each other for months, what with my Gap Year and his duties, and so we had a lot of catching up to do, and we got down to business straight away.

I seem to remember we had something for supper, to go with the Champers, and I even remembered to lock up, but still morning seemed to arrive all too soon. I slithered out from under Peter's arm and made for the bathroom. It did take a little longer than usual to repair the damage, of course, but when I came out Peter had actually made the tea; they obviously train them well in the Navy these days. There was even a rose in a little vase on the tray - I don't think the Navy ever taught him that. I am sure Grandpa wouldn't miss one of his prized blooms, and it had been sacrificed in a noble cause. I sat back on the bed like the gentle lady I had certainly not been all night, and sipped the tea while Peter splashed about in the bathroom.

The phone rang. In a moment of weakness I went into the Master Bedroom to answer it. Hello Mum.... Yes I'm fine... No, we haven't been burgled... No I'm not frightened to be left here on my own, No you don't need to worry. (Draw breath.) How are you.... Oh that's good.... Oh how nice! How's Dad?.... Oh Good.... Yes isn't it lovely..... Oh have you? ....Isn't that nice of him!... Yes, I'm sure I can look after Asbo and take him for walks.... Amelia too? But aren't you taking her with you? There must be room on the boat even if Uncle Percy can't stand her.... Seasickness? But I thought she'd got over that? ...Well if Uncle Percy feels that way I suppose so; it was a nice jacket.....and slacks...and shoes...... Yes I know she did that too, but you should have warned him she didn't have a nappy on..... Well I'm sure he's got plenty of other pairs of trousers, and she's ten years old now and hasn't had one of those type of accidents for years and years.... Oh!...When was that?... Oh, but surely it was just a tummy bug....Yes, I know what curry does to her, but can't you cook something else?.... I'm sure Uncle Percy doesn't really have to live on it, Doctor's orders or not.... No, No I'm not lonely.... Oh that's nice; Champagne if you can... At least two bottles.... Yes, I've developed a taste for it... Just lately.... OK ten o'clock then, see you....Byeeee... Bye bye.... - Get off me Peter! Not on Gran's prized satin quilt! Control yourself!

When I unlocked the great front door of Pembroke at ten o'clock I was the picture of demure and filial perfection. It had taken some work, and I had exiled the main culprit to the garden - at least temporarily. Asbo trotted in, oblivious to human etiquette, and greeted me with a short-lived enthusiasm before trotting through to the French doors to check out the garden and find something to kill. Mum and Dad came in with Amelia dragging behind like a felon on the way to execution. After the usual fond greetings Mum said "Juliet, I'm awfully sorry about this dear." And added in a forced whisper; "You didn't tell us that Peter was here." I cursed silently. Peter's rustbucket MGB was still in the driveway, and that particular pattern of grey primer on the orange paint was quite unmistakeable.

"He's just dropped by!" I replied gaily, hoping that Dad hadn't spotted that the MGB had an entirely cold engine. "He's in the garden....PETER!" Peter came in. Asbo had obviously met him already, and fallen deeply in love with his leg; Peter was trying desperately to shake him off. I grabbed Asbo's collar and, ignoring his growls, which were never completely bluff, dragged him away. More fond greetings, and a wary survey by Dad. Amelia promptly dropped her previous expression of scowling fury and beamed at Peter as though he were the Second Coming. I hadn't seen her smile so widely for years, although the effect was slightly spoiled by the braces; despite her mane of brown curls Amelia was not going through her prettiest stage, poor thing, and would have won any audition for a "St Trinians" film.

Dad dropped Amelia's holdall on the floor. On top of it, held between the handles was a part-pack of nappies. Amelia's problem was certainly not ameliorating; in the family tradition she was wet nearly every night, and all the dancing lessons and riding lessons had failed to strengthen the muscles of her pelvic floor in the way the doctors had suggested they might. No matter. I was adept at changing her nappies and she accepted the situation philosophically. All the other womenfolk had dried up at the onset of puberty and were only left with a detailed knowledge of how to prevent leaks, and Amelia, for once, was resigned to waiting for nature to take its course. My eyes took in the quantity of nappies in the bag. "How long are you going for?" I asked suspiciously, "I thought it was just straight across the Channel and back?"

"Ah!" said Mum. "We are hoping to go along the coast a bit. Something about a sail-in. We might be four or five days." Bugger!

"That'll be a bit more than two bottles of champagne, then. There's Asbo to look after too." Mum took her cue and dropped Asbo's bed and his beloved and much-chewed blanket onto the hall floor.

"Never mind, dear, I am sure he will be company for you," she said. Dammit. Peter was the only company I wanted. "and I'm sure he will keep any burglars away." That at least was true. And postmen, and milkmen, and the Red Army if they were foolish enough to come to the door, and if they did get inside then Amelia would surely finish them. She had the stubbornness and resolution of a panzer division, and the charm as well come to think of it.

Dad slipped me a little roll of banknotes, for which I was very grateful. I had to buy food for three people for a few days now, and I knew that Peter was not very well paid, and I was utterly broke after Goa. They wished us goodbye, and left . I began to take stock. Amelia could go in the third bedroom, well away from where Peter and I would be enjoying ourselves, but I saw there was something to be said for the nursery. It was roomy, and had a changing table, and had its own bathroom, and I would be able to hear if Amelia was on the move in the night. And she wouldn't feel that she had been left alone in a strange house; she had stayed in the nursery so many times before. Dammit! I was starting to think like a parent already! I went to pick up Amelia's bag, but Peter beat me to it. We escorted Amelia up to the nursery. I put her bag onto the changing table and stacked the nappies into the shelves below. The shelves were unusually empty, and I wondered where all the old things had gone. My old bed was still in the corner, and a brief search produced a waterproof sheet and conventional bedclothes. Peter and I made the bed up quickly, and I paid particular attention to the waterproof sheet.

"I won't be needing that." said Amelia.

"Oh! Dry are we?" I replied.

"I've decided I'm going to be." she replied primly. "I'm sure I can do it. Won't need nappies either, so you can chuck those."

"Mum has sent me nappies. I presume they're for you. She'd hardly send them for me, would she?"

"I don't know." she replied. "Are you sure you can manage?" I felt my hackles rising. This might be difficult.

"Enough of that!" said Peter, pointing one finger at Amelia. "It's nappies for you, Amelia, and no arguing."

Amelia waved her finger back; "Who's going to put them on me then? You and who's army?"

"Yes! Me! If I Have To!" he said, "and you will do as you are told and keep them on."

Amelia smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him, and said sweetly, "Sorry, Peter, only joking! If you want to nappy me I won't argue."

"Right!" said Peter, "Let's do it then!" and with that he pulled her pants down. "Nappy, please!" he said to me. I was starting to enjoy this. I took a nappy off the shelf and opened it on the table. Amelia, was, for the first time in her life, too surprised to speak, but just moved her mouth silently. Peter picked her up again, dumped her bottom on the nappy and pushed her backwards. As her legs came up he stepped between them and they briefly flailed either side of him to no effect. Peter grabbed the front of her nappy and pulled it up between her legs and across her tummy before she thought to retract her legs enough to put her feet on his shoulders. At that point I thought we would be in for a fight, but strangely she relaxed and lay still while Peter adjusted the fit, raising her with his hands around her hips, and then fastened the tapes. The result was an excellent, firm fit, with just one problem; it was eleven o'clock in the morning, and nowhere near bedtime.

"Are you comfy now, dear?" said Peter between his teeth.

Amelia got her breath back, and astonished me by saying "Yes, thank you Peter, Very comfy, but I don't actually wear them in the day, you know!" Sweet as a nut. Cute as a button. I couldn't believe it.

"Well, today you do!" warned Peter, smiling as he scowled at her, "Keep it on, Keep it dry, and we'll see about tomorrow if you really are dry all night." He picked her up, put her back on her feet, pulled her dress down, and gave her a pat on the bottom. She actually hugged him.

We left the nursery, with Amelia in front, waddling slightly against the pillow of nappy between her legs. The rustle was quite audible with every step. This gave me another slight problem. I had watched Peter and revelled in the speed and angry strength in those arms, and I really wanted to guide him back into the Second bedroom and let the steam out of him in the same way I had done all last night, but that was impossible with Amelia around. As I followed Peter, I slipped my arms around his waist, and ran my hands over his warm hard stomach, He stopped, and I stood on tiptoe to nuzzle the nape of his neck. He placed his hands over mine, and turned his head this way and that trying to get at me. I released my grip and he turned within my arms until our mouths met and I squeezed him towards me. "What are you doing?" said Amelia from halfway down the stairs.

"Never mind. Where's Asbo got to? Can you go and find him? I don't want him getting on the road!" She hesitated. "Go On!" I said, "We'll be down in a moment."

And we were, too, several moments. Very pleasant ones.

I made a light lunch, cold meats and salad, and took it out to eat on the patio in the sunshine. Peter produced a bottle of wine, light and white, Riesling, I think, and very tasty. I noted his generosity, since I knew that cadets were not well paid - as his battered MGB testified - and I felt quite honoured. Amelia sat opposite us, eyes flicking from one to the other, taking it all in. "Pour a glass for Amelia!" came a familiar voice in the back of my mind. Go away, Demon! She's bad enough sober! "No, seriously," came the voice, "Either she won't like it because it's too dry for her - no problem, ...or it will put her to sleep in the heat of the afternoon, and she will leave you alone for an hour or two." I smiled at Amelia and poured a little into her glass.

"Try it, dear!" said Evil Big Sister. "You're a big girl now, and nobody's looking!" She overcame her surprise and sniffed the glass cautiously, then took a small sip.

Her face scrunched for a moment in distaste, but then her eyes opened wide and she took a mouthful, swallowed, coughed, and with watering eyes said; "That's good! I never knew!"

Evil Big Sister smiled, and filled Amelia's glass. "Well done!" said the Demon in the back of my mind, "Peace for you and another client for me!"

Peter caught my eye and I winked back at him, and helped him to a portion of ham; I wanted to keep his strength up. The meal proceeded in a leisurely fashion until we were all replete, and Amelia was flicking bits of ham across the patio to feed Asbo, who leapt up and snapped them out of mid air like an expert goalkeeper. I rose to my feet and began to gather the plates. I was about to tell Amelia to finish her wine when I saw that the glass had been drained completely. Excellent! I stretched and feigned a yawn. Amelia yawned too. I scratched, idly. She scratched. I turned to Peter and said; "I think I'll take a nap." And to Amelia: "Why don't you take one too. Like we do when we're on holiday in France?" She nodded, and I could see her eyes getting heavier in the warm sun. "Come on, Peter! You too!" and I nudged him.

He rose to his feet, took the tray from me and replied; "I'll see you upstairs then." He grinned.

I took Amelia and we went up to the nursery. I took off her dress, - it was very pretty and I told her that we didn't want it creased - and checked her nappy by putting my finger inside the leg and instinctively patting the seat. I suppose I should have given her a toilet break, but I didn't want the palaver, her nappy was dry anyway, and I certainly didn't want to waste any time. She rubbed her eyes, but made no objection, and when I patted the bed, she laid down and composed herself. I tucked the coverlet around her, stroked her curls from her face, kissed her, and left the room, closing the nursery door quietly - and firmly!

I reached the Second Bedroom in about half the normal number of strides. Peter was already inside and he took me in his arms, and we kissed, our tongues exploring each other's mouths. That was as near France as we would be going that day. I reached for his belt buckle and undid it, his shirt was already open and I started to slide his jeans down. As I did so, he unzipped my dress, and started to pull it round my shoulders and down my arms, dropping it to the floor, my bra following close behind. Then he slid his hands around my waist, ran them inside the elastic of my knickers and eased them down my thighs and dropped them. Then we did what normal, healthy young people are supposed to do. Only more so.

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Amelia's Crush

I was jerked back into wakefulness by the sound of the nursery door being unlatched. We just had time to disentangle our limbs and whip the cover up before our bedroom door began to open. The afternoon sunlight silhouetted the almost-naked Amelia, and plainly displayed her swollen and drooping nappy. She waddled over to the bed, and I could see that she was almost crying. "I've wet my nappy!" she wailed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I couldn't help it, it just happened! Please don't be angry with me!"

"I'm not angry with you. That's what your nappy is there for, to catch any accidents you might have."

"I'm sorry. Can I take it off, please? It's awfully wet." She stepped from foot to foot, legs wide placed, and squeezed the crutch of her nappy with her hand. I weighed the situation. Serious risk of leakage onto Gran's carpet.. I was stark naked and so was Peter. Clothes were everywhere and the bedroom looked as if a bomb had struck it, which, in a sense, it had.

"Go back to the nursery. I'll be along in a minute to change you. Don't worry. Worse things happen at sea. Go along now....Shoo!" She turned and staggered out of the door. I started to get up, but Peter held my arm.

"I'll go, you stay here. I can handle this." he said.

"No, Peter, it's my turn, and I'll do it." He pulled me close and kissed me.

"I want you here!" he replied.

I pushed him down gently "Patience! I'll be back!" and I grabbed my dressing down, slipped it on and tied the cord. At the doorway I half-turned and smiled at him, and waggled my bum. Then I went to see to my soaking little sister.

She was standing by the changing table, a picture of dejection. I steered her into the bathroom, and made her climb into the tub where any spillage could be cleaned up easily. There I untaped her nappy, and let it drop heavily to the bottom of the bathtub. She was indeed very wet and there were trails of wetness down the inside of her legs. I ran the hot water, and flannelled her down thoroughly, before helping her out of the bath and wrapping a towel around her. "Do you need the loo for anything" I asked her. She shook her head energetically. "Are You Sure?" She shook her head again.

"I dreamed I was going to the toilet. I woke up and found that I'd peed myself. I think I did it all in my nappy," she said, "nothing left. I'm very sorry. I never normally wet in the day."

"OK then. I'm not surprised you needed your nappy, you had a lot to drink at lunchtime, I really should have made you use the toilet afterwards, and you've been fast asleep since then. Now let's get you changed." She made no resistance when I took her back to the changing table, opened a fresh nappy for her, sat her into it, anointed her and taped her up. I took a large T-shirt from her bag and slipped it over her head, but before I could find her shorts, she had got up, hugged me, and trotted out of the door. I shrugged, completed her unpacking, and then dressed myself. Peter, already dressed, had put the kettle on. Our long, slow, comfortable kiss was only interrupted by the bubble of the electric kettle boiling and clicking itself off.

I found Amelia squatting on the patio, stroking Asbo's tummy as he lay on the warm stone. Asbo was a Jack Russell Terrier, and like his entire breed, he only had two settings: Full Speed and Stop. He sprawled on his back, half asleep and loving the attention. Amelia's nappy was drooping at the back a little bit, and when she stood I reached around her and hitched it up. She looked very cute, and I gave her a quick cuddle and a kiss. She was warm and soft and heavy in my arms, although in a way quite unlike Peter, and it was rather nice. I released her, gave her a pat on her bottom, and passed her the mug of tea. We sat on the edge of the patio, Peter joined us and sat on the other side of Amelia, Asbo sidled up and leant against me for more petting, and we talked idly, watching the shadows lengthen on the lawn. We discussed the day that had been, what we would have for supper, what we might do tomorrow, what Mum and Dad would be doing, and where Gran and Granpa would be now.

By and by the hard stone became uncomfortable, and I kicked off my shoes, stood up, and stepped onto the cool grass in my bare feet. The others joined me, and we held Amelia's hands and drifted slowly down the lawn. We passed the spot where two children once did a lot of growing up very quickly, and moved slowly down towards the pond. I looked at Peter and smiled. I was thinking of the first time we met on this very spot. He smiled back and I knew that he was thinking the same. We watched the midges dancing over the pond in the sunbeams, and there was a soft plop as a fish took one of them. I asked Amelia if she remembered falling in the pond, and she replied that she did so, but vaguely, something about being picked up and a huge fuss being made, and lots of smelly mud. Between us, Peter and I told her the story, and she laughed. Peter suggested we repeat the exercise and picked Amelia up by the hand, I had to use both hands to pick up her other hand, and we swung her feet-first out over the pond as she shrieked with laughter, her T-shirt riding up and exposing the whole of her nappy. I told her how I first met Peter here, and she loved the story and asked for more details. I told her how embarrassed I was when I wet my own nappy. Both of them enjoyed that hugely. Peter pointed out the branch he had used to climb over the hedge, and how almost straight away I had been called back to have my bath, and how he thought he had lost me. I reached for him with my free hand, drew him towards me and kissed him. We stood there, the three of us in mutual embrace for a long, long time, as the midges danced their interminable dance.

Time passed, and we started to move back up the lawn. I pretended to see a fairy in the undergrowth, and Amelia pretended to believe me. We both remembered that game well, although it took some explaining before Peter understood the significance. Then he joined in looking for fairies as well.

Supper might be described as a no-score draw. I was not proud of my culinary achievement, but they ate it. Peter, tactful as ever, actually asked for second helpings, which suggested that Navy food must be pretty awful. Peter used the remainder of the bottle of white wine he had opened at lunchtime, and Amelia held out her glass hopefully. Peter poured her a very small amount, which did not please her. I explained that we didn't have very much left, but she still resented it. Then, while Peter very honourably started the washing-up, I told Amelia that it was time for her bath. She replied that she had taken a nap in the afternoon as we did in France, and was thus entitled to stay up late. Her logic was good, and we dickered, eventually settling on an immediate bath followed by bedtime deferred by an hour and a half. Fair enough. I took her up, ran the bath, took her clothes off, retrieved the nappy, which was only clammy, and popped her in the bath and scrubbed her back, leaving the rest to her. With a flush of the toilet as a fanfare she came out wrapped in a towel and with a mane of freshly washed hair. I questioned the wisdom of this and she replied that there would be time for her hair to dry because we agreed she could stay up late. Nice move. It would take at least an hour and a half to dry her hair, so she had ensured her respite. I took her pyjamas from the drawer, and a fresh nappy from the bag, and opened it on the changing table. She said that the respite included not being nappied until bed-time, because she might need to use the loo in the meantime. She's playing you up! muttered the Demon. I patted the table, and told her we would let her go to the toilet later, but I wanted her to get ready for bed now. She refused. I insisted, but we were deadlocked. I said I would call Peter and he would make her have her nappy on. She replied that she would really like that. The demon laughed.

She's got a real crush on Peter, hasn't she? She wants him up here. She wants his strong rough hands to apply her nappy ointment, and then put her nappy on, and she will wriggle like one thing to prolong the affair. And worse, at some future date, she will be able to make all kinds of allegations about him, and ruin his career and your relationship! A fine little minx, I really like her! So what are you going to do?

"Get up here right now! I'm tired of this and I've had enough of you. Any more argument and you'll go straight to bed right now!"

That's it! said the demon, but it won't work. You'll see!

"NO!" snapped Amelia, " A deal's a deal"

"There wasn't any deal about nappies, just about bedtime. Bathtime and nappy always go together!"

"No, Bedtime and nappy go together. No nappy until bedtime. Then Peter to put it on."

"Get up here and get your nappy on right away or I'll give you a smack!"

Temper, temper! muttered the Demon.

"You Wouldn't Dare! And besides, YOU'RE not strong enough to hurt ME!"

"God Give Me Strength!"

He's out this evening. Wrong department anyway. Never mind, I have an idea - Think! What would Granpa do?

The door opened. Asbo trotted in with one of Granpa's sacred slippers in his mouth, and some serious chewing on his mind. A Godsend!

No, not God. We've had the Jack Russell Group Contract for centuries, you know.

I took hold of the slipper and said "GIVE!" and Asbo, after taking one look at me, uttered a token growl and released his prize. There was another slipper as he well knew. I raised the slipper over my head and brought the sole down as hard as I could on the top of the dresser. The sound startled me and Amelia jumped.

"This will hurt you!" I hissed, "Now get up here and get your nappy on!"

"NO!" She replied, white faced and tight lipped. "I won't. Hit me if you dare, but I won't have my nappy on, not tonight, not ever! I told you I'm through with them!"

I have to admire her. She has the blood of warriors in her veins, and will fight to the death for what she believes in.

Peter appeared in the doorway. Something about him reminded me of Granpa. Not just the size, but the natural authority that radiated from him. The Navy had got a good deal there, I thought. He looked at me, and raised one eyebrow.

"She won't have her nappy on, Peter."

"It's not bedtime yet. I've got an hour and half extra tonight because of my nap."

"I even threatened to spank her." I confessed to Peter. He looked at me. He knew what I thought about hitting children.

"I'll agree if you do it!" said Amelia hopefully.

Peter smiled his impish grin. "Oh, That's alright then. I'll spank you." And he took the slipper from me and patted the changing table. "Just bend over here, would you. It'll hurt like hell, I'm afraid, but it won't take long. Bare-bottom, of course. About fifty strokes, slow careful and deliberate: a quarter of an hour, I think, and that'll leave you plenty of time for nappy and bed, and a nice soothing blub. Does nappy-rash cream take away some of the sting, I wonder? I hope so."

"Do you mean me?" she stalled. Her eyes were wide and her shoulders had gone down.

"Yes," said Peter, grinning down at her, "You don't think I mean Juliet, do you?" He slapped the slipper against the palm of his other hand, "Ouch!... It stings beautifully! Fifty should be ample. Give you a really, really stingy backside all night, and all of tomorrow. Worth it though, for an hour without a nappy on."

Amelia looked desperately from one of us to the other in rapid succession, then lowered her head. "Alright." she said, and looked up at me, "Please may I have my nappy on now, Juliet?"

"OK!" I said softly, my anger having evaporated, "Up you pop." and I lifted her under the armpits, allowed the bath towel to drop to the floor, and lowered her onto the table. She laid back along the table, and hugged her legs against her chest, while I applied ointment slowly and liberally over her bottom and between her legs. This was the very action I didn't want Peter to perform. I brought the nappy up under her, rocked her up a little by lifting her feet, and slipped the waistband up into place. Then I lowered her feet and she released and spread her legs. I checked that the nappy was centred by lifting the sides, and then pulled the front of it up between her legs and spread it over her tummy. "Peter, there's too much ointment on my hands. Would you fasten the tapes for me please?" There was some ointment on my hands, but I thought Amelia should be able to salvage some pride from the encounter.

"Of course!" He put the slipper down on the dresser and took my place. Amelia began to smile a little. He fastened the tapes and checked the fit, running his fingers around just inside the leg elastics to ensure that they were gripping evenly. "All done!" he said, and sat her up. I passed Amelia's pyjama top over her head, and she slipped her arms through the sleeves and wriggled it on.

I started to scrunch up the bottoms to go over her feet, but she looked up at me and said "No, thank you. Please, Juliet, it's too hot this evening." I put them down again and picked her up from the table, gave her a hug and a kiss, and set her on her feet. We all went downstairs holding hands. She didn't last the hour and a half, but fell asleep sitting in Peter's lap, whereupon he carried her upstairs again and laid her in her bed, still sleeping.

We didn't stay up late ourselves, but saw that Asbo was comfortable - and slipperless - in the kitchen, locked up, and made our way to bed. I was very tired, and the row with Amelia had taken all that was left of my energy. I slipped into a very short nightie that I hadn't had time to put on the night before, and Peter took the hint and wore his pyjama bottoms. We climbed into bed and lay in each other's arms. I apologised to Peter about the scene, and told him of my reservations concerning the nappy-rash ointment. He agreed, and admitted that he hadn't thought of that. I told him that Amelia obviously had a crush on him, and was trying to compete with me for attention. He said that it had been very obvious to him for a long time, but that he didn't want to make an enemy of his future sister-in-law. I suddenly became much more awake. That was a serious statement. "Peter, do you think we'll ever have children - together, I mean." I said, correcting myself very quickly. His hands tightened on me slightly.

"I should hope so." he said, "But a few more years...."

"How many do you think?"

"Children, or years?"

"Years, of course," I giggled, "I think that's supposed to come first!"

"Hmmmm. I've got to complete Dartmouth, do my flying course, and you want to go to Uni, that's three years or four. And then the Navy doesn't really like young officers to marry until they are twenty-five at least. So we are looking at four years minimum."

"That's a long, long time." I said. "Don't I get any staff discount for being an Admiral's granddaughter?"

You do if you're pregnant! muttered the Demon. Shut Up Demon!

"Sounds a marvellous idea. You'd better ask your grandfather. I suspect he has pulled a few strings to get me into Dartmouth anyway. I got in very easily. Even in to the Fleet Air Arm."

Somehow I didn't think he'd had to pull many strings. After all, I did know a few things about what went to make a naval officer, and even I could see that Peter had all the necessary qualities. I knew that Granpa thought very highly of Peter, and Granpa was a sound judge of men.

"How many children do you think then?" I was on a roll now.

"What kind of children? Like Amelia? One is surely enough for the whole world."

"She's not that bad, really."

"When she's grown up she'll be a whole lot worse, mark my words."

"Go on with you. You love her really, I can see it. You think she's so cute. You love changing her nappies."

"I seem to remember changing yours at one time, when you wore them."

Now, dear, now's your chance. You've always wondered, haven't you?

"Peter....Peter... Do you like nappies?...I mean, do they turn you on?"

He was silent for a time. I might have said that I heard the cogs and wheels grinding away inside his head, but not with Peter. They were well oiled and ran very smoothly.

"I don't know. I really don't know. I'd never thought of it like that. I suppose they could. I mean when you had them on you looked so helpless, so vulnerable, so..."

"Cute?" I prompted.

Peter laughed. The overworked word had never quite been defined. "They must be pretty hellish to wear, if you have to wear them."

"Hot. bulky, heavy, clammy, shameful, and when you wet them, they go cold and droop, and leak if you aren't careful. And if they're full of crap; well just don't ask!"

"Is there nothing good about them?"

"They can be soft, cushioned, warm, and they made me feel very safe and secure when I had them on. Having them put on could be fun, too. It's very up close and personal, and very tactile. It's weird. They think they're controlling you, but in a way you're controlling them, making them serve you. I'm sure that that is part of what motivated Amelia this evening, even if she didn't know it. There's always the fear that they might be seen by someone who is not supposed to know, and that can be exciting. If you are very, very lazy it can save a cold walk to the loo; as long as it's somebody else's problem to procure them and then wash or dispose of them! The crunch is that if you are going to wet yourself, then it's a lot nicer if the pee is trapped in a nappy rather than having it go all over the place."

"I liked those frilly pants you had on that night. I've always remembered them. If we had been a bit older you would've got a right going-over for wearing those!"

I chuckled. "Noted! I'll see what I can do!"

"Now, beloved wife-to-be, one day at least, what else would you like from me?"

"Oh my beloved future husband; I think I would like a long, slow, comfortable screw. Right now. Thank you." And I got one.

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Thank you for your comments; They are much appreciated, particularly from the opposite sex - it is not easy for a man to write a story from the female persepective.

There are six more chapters to come. I plan to publish one about every two days. (It worked for Dickens, why not for me?)

If you would like a preview, then drop me pm. - a little sub-editing or critique might help!

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The Forest

I was awakened by Amelia's voice. The words didn't make sense at first, but Peter's voice then broke in saying he would come and see to it. I turned over. It was still dark, and Peter was silhouetted against the dim light from the landing. Amelia was standing in the doorway clutching a teddy bear and sucking her thumb, both old habits, but not recent practice. I sat up and asked the matter, and Peter replied that Amelia had heard something moving downstairs, and it had frightened her. He was going to investigate. I said I would come, but Peter pushed me back gently, and asked me to keep the bed warm because he would be back shortly. That sounded promising, but Amelia's thumb and teddy worried me slightly; something had spooked her. As Peter left the room I donned my dressing gown. It wasn't cold, but it was necessary for decency's sake. I fielded Amelia, took her gooey hand, and led her back to the nursery. However frightened she had been, she had turned the light on, and it was that which had lighted the landing. She told me she about the sounds from downstairs that had woken her up, and I reassured her that sometimes old houses made sounds all by themselves; it was called the house "talking", and it was still cooling from the heat of the day and that would mean things might creak or go bump. With a cuddle and a kiss and some soothing words, she began to relax, and I noticed that she had wet her nappy again. I untaped it, wiped her down, and lifted her onto the changing table, and took a new one from the rapidly depleting bag. She made no resistance as I slipped it under her, added a dab of ointment, and taped up the sides.

There was a rapid patter of paws on the stairs, followed by the jingle of Asbo's medallion as he trotted in the door. He inspected the room, sniffed carefully at Amelia's wet nappy, and greeted me with a cold wet nose in the warmest driest spot he could find. Peter followed silently, carrying Asbo's basket, and dropped it in the corner of the nursery. Asbo, after completing his sweep of the room and finding nothing worth killing or chewing, jumped into the basket, turned round twice and lay down, bright eyes fixed on us. After his examination showed that we had no food on us, and we were unlikely to be going for a walk, he tucked his nose between his legs, and was instantly asleep, and probably dreaming of rabbits.

"I thought Amelia would appreciate his company as a guard-dog." Peter said. I had to agree. I had experienced Asbo's teeth on occasion, and I could be sure that nothing in this world would care to brave them twice, and even things in the next world might have good reason to fear him. Amelia was now sitting up on the changing table and trying to vamp Peter, but her braces rather spoiled the effect, and her nappy hardly added to it. Peter smiled at her, picked her up with an arm under her bottom, and dropped her onto her bed. Two pats on her rustling rear, and she laid herself down with an attempt at elegance, her eyes still devouring Peter. I asked if she would like the nightlight left on, but she refused. We turned the light out and returned to our cold bed. Peter chided me for letting the bed go cold, so I snuggled up to him, but this time we didn't make love. It occurred to me that we were behaving like a married couple already.

When I woke in the morning the bed beside me was cold and empty. The sun was streaming in, and the clock showed that I was an hour or so later than usual. I got out of bed and wandered vaguely towards the bathroom. On coming out I found Amelia standing in our bedroom. "Where's Peter?" I asked.

"Downstairs making the tea!" she piped. "I heard you get up."

I sat down on the bed and she clambered up beside me. Instinctively I checked her nappy. "You're still dry! Well done!"

"Sorry. Wasn't. Peter changed me before he went down."

I ran through the scenario. She had been wet yet again, and Peter had dealt with it. She was now nappied again, presumably for the day as well now. And presumably without objection. And by Peter. "Do you want to wear a nappy today?" I asked, "you don't usually wear them in the daytime."

"Peter just did it. I didn't object. If he wants me to wear a nappy, I'm quite happy to do it for him. He's got nice hands, hasn't he?"

I was now a little worried. Given the vociferous objections she voiced last night, and the trouble I'd had with her, it seemed a little odd that she should want to wear a nappy on this bright summer's day. Peter did have nice hands, but I now regarded them as being reserved for me.

Peter came in with the tray, and put it down on the bedside table. He kissed me on the cheek and then busied himself with pouring the tea, before sitting down on the other side of Amelia.

I took a sip of the tea. "Thanks for changing Amelia, Peter," I said, "but she doesn't normally wear a nappy in the daytime unless we're travelling."

"Oh!" he replied, "She seemed to get through a couple yesterday, and a couple more overnight, and you were still asleep, so I thought it better to play safe, and Amelia seemed to be quite happy with it. I re-used the one that was on the towel rail."

"I don't mind." Amelia butted in, "Are we going somewhere, then? We'd better give Asbo a good walk before he tears the place apart."

I thought about this. If we spent too much time at Pembroke we would go stir-crazy, no matter how spacious it was. Although I was house-sitting I don't think that means you have to stay in the property the whole time, and there was a perfectly adequate burglar alarm. I loved walking in the country with Peter, Asbo's opinion was a forgone conclusion, and Amelia had suggested it. Unanimous!

"Where shall we go?"

Peter mentioned the great forest that capped the cool green hills a dozen miles to the south, and it sounded excellent. Asbo, psychic as ever, appeared in the doorway with his ears pricked. "Splendid!" I replied.

Breakfast was accomplished swiftly, and I went to change my clothes, then remembering that I also had Amelia to care for I went back to the nursery to find her trying to pull her jeans on over her nappy.

"Have you been to the toilet?" I asked, and she nodded. "Are you sure that you still want a nappy on?" She nodded. This was most unusual, and I was slightly worried. "Why?" I asked.

"Well, we're going to travel, and I certainly don't want an accident in the back of Peter's car!"

"That's very good of you, but we're not going far." I thought that Peter's car had probably had worse things spilt in it, but in truth it was his pride and joy, every last rusty bit of it.

"I remember how much I upset Uncle Percy that time. If I hadn't done that I would probably be on the boat right now, carousing on the high seas." True, true. It had been quite spectacular.

"But you were sick, not wet. Are you going to wear a nappy over your head, then?"

"I was thinking of the other time. I didn't half make a mess! I had been so afraid of using the head because it was such a palaver. I don't want that fuss again, I really don't."

I remembered. I had nearly killed myself laughing. Poor Uncle Percy, always so dapper, brought up on Granpa's favourite Industrial Strength Curry, he just didn't appreciate the effect it might have on a little girl. I let it go, and cuddled her briefly, and helped her to get her jeans up over her nappy. Long ago Gran had made a onesie for me which fixed the problem of the nappy showing at the top. I wonder what happened to it?

I put a few things into my shoulder bag, then added a couple of spare nappies and the remains of a bag of wipes, just in case, and herded my new family out of the front door, locking it behind me. Peter's old MGB was one of the ones with a fixed roof, and so there was room for Amelia and Asbo in the back. He had wanted a convertible, but they were too expensive for him. We had to make do with a sunshine roof.

The forest was cool and dark and deep on that blazing summer day, and we were in no hurry. We wandered down one leafy lane and then another, Asbo trotting ahead, Amelia following, and Peter and I strolling in the rear, hand in hand, keeping an eye on the other two. For the first time I felt as though I had my own family. Soon we left the crowds behind us and heard only the birdsong from the tree-canopy overhead. Peter was carrying our picnic and the faithful old rug of lascivious memory. I was carrying some orange squash for Amelia and water for Asbo in my shoulder bag. The dappled sunshine was enough to keep us warm, but not enough to make us too hot. I put my arm around Peter and leaned against his shoulder. By and by we came to a part where the trees thinned on the edge of the escarpment and we could see a great sweep of country laid open before us. Peter stopped and spread the rug. We whistled Asbo back, and Amelia followed, sitting down beside us. Asbo gratefully lapped his water, and we shared the sandwiches round. I could do sandwiches, more or less. I certainly did enough. I shared the wine with Peter, and yes, a little bit went to Amelia, although she had orange squash when she held her tumbler out for more. Asbo cadged potato crisps from Amelia with considerable success. Peter and I laid back, hand in hand and watched the clouds drift by. A tiny glider circled below one of them, and the sight of it took me straight back to that first day, on the edge of the Downs at the zoo, lying with Peter on the grass. I had started to love him that day, and I had never stopped.

I woke a while later, with Peter's arm around me and my head resting on his shoulder. Amelia was sleeping on his other side, and the poor man couldn't move at all. I rubbed his tummy gently with my free hand, and he turned his head and kissed me softly. I raised my head and looked around. All was very quiet. "Where's Asbo?"

"He's over there in those bushes, scratching around." said Peter, " I think."

I whistled. No sound. Peter started to get up, and Amelia woke up with a bit of a start. "Asbo!" No response. "I'd better go and look for him." He stood up and started strolling over towards the bushes. Amelia rolled onto her front and smiled at me, propped on her elbows and waving her feet idly in the air. "So when are you two getting married then?" Not if, but "When".

"What makes you think we are going to do that, Amelia?"

"Peter's started calling me "Little Sis". He's never done that before."

I tapped her nose with my forefinger. "You read too much into things, Little Sis!"

"He's treating you differently, and you're much easier with him, as if you owned him already." Perceptive little minx!

"Not for years and years! I've got to go to Uni first."

"Can I be your bridesmaid?"

"If and when. Of course you can. You'll be much older by then."

"Ninety-five?"

"I hope not. Three or four years. Perhaps. You should be dry by then."

Amelia winced. "Wouldn't matter. I wouldn't need a nappy. It's during the day."

"Ooh, I don't know about that. Long ceremony, long dresses, long reception, long drinks, we'd have to make sure you were safe....and comfortable. Nappy, frilly pants to match the dress. Regular changes. That should do it."

"Over my dead body!"

"No, you'll walk behind."

Peter emerged from behind the bushes with a rather dirty small dog beside him.

"Down a rabbit hole!" he said. "Just his tail sticking out."

"Is there somewhere down there I can have a pee?" I asked. "It's a bit public here."

"Yup. It's perfect for it. There's even a nice big rabbit hole for you. Watch out for the white rabbit with the coat and the watch, though." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Come on Amelia, I imagine you'll want one too."

"Erm....sorry." she reddened. "I think I've just been. Don't worry, it isn't very much. I can make it back."

"No. There's a change in my bag. And some wipes. I'll fix you in a minute"

I retired behind the bushes on my own private business. When I emerged, Peter had Amelia on the rug with her jeans off and was wiping her. "Peter, you should have left that to me!"

"Oh? Do you enjoy it?"

"No, but somebody might see and get the wrong impression."

"There hasn't been anybody along here in the last hour. HUP!" Amelia lifted her legs, and he wiped her buttocks. "Good girl.... Now once more!" and he slid the fresh nappy under her. By the time I reached them the tapes were down and Amelia then stood up, and ran her fingers around the leg elastics, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Comfy?" She smiled and nodded. "All ship shape then." And he patted her on the bottom. I held her jeans open for her to step into and then pulled them up round her waist, being careful to tuck her T-shirt in to cover everything.

"I should have worn my shorts." She said "It's so warm and it would have made everything much easier."

Apart from an ice-cream at the little caf

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Juliet's Plot

I took Amelia's shorts and a pair of underpants out of the drawer and placed them on the changing-table out of pure habit, and turned to see Amelia entering. She was smiling and happy, and I gently fielded her, untaped her nappy, and guided her towards the bathroom. I put the nappy on the changing table; it was clammy, but usable if it dried out a little, and they were now in short supply. Amelia came out, still smiling, hopped up onto the changing table, shuffled onto the nappy and looked up at me expectantly. "We're not going out anywhere, you won't have to have a nappy on. You can wear your pants."

"Peter said..."

"I don't mind what Peter said. We're not married yet, and he has no authority over you. If you want to wear a nappy it's by your choice; you don't have to, and I think you're old enough to put them on and take them off yourself."

"Peter put it on me, I really like Peter, I don't want to upset him the way I upset Uncle Percy, and I certainly don't want him to get angry with you. Besides, I think he likes me in a nappy, and I like it when he changes me." I stroked her hair and kissed her gently on the forehead, although an alarm bell was ringing in my mind. Told you so! Told you so! Right at the start I told you so! Shut up, Demon! He wasn't exactly explicit last night was he. Dissembled beautifully. I couldn't have done better myself! You've got a problem there. What are you going to do about it? Something stronger was needed. I had to show him just how horrible the whole thing could be. I had to show Amelia the same. I had to show Amelia that Peter wasn't as vain, pompous and shallow as Uncle Percy and that his love would rise above such things, but I had no idea of how I could do it. Easy! Easy! Curry. Even you can cook that! But Demon, that always makes Amelia... Exactly! And with a glass of wine in her, she'll go off like Old Faithful!

I let Amelia tape her nappy on, and merely checked the fit. It would do. "You leave Peter to me!" I told her. "In every way!"

The phone rang again. "Hello Gran! How's it going? ...No it's fine here, and we haven't been burgled ..... Yes Peter's fine too .!. Hang on, how did you know he was here? ..... Really? And how did you know he would? ... Oh, I see. I see. I've been managed again haven't I? ... Well thank you. A lovely idea, I never thought you were so modern! Did you plan the bit about Amelia as well? .... Oh, Mum and Dad have gone off to Ostend in Uncle Percy's boat - and got stuck there - Amelia was dumped on me..... Ah, you're probably right, Dad might not have been too happy about it.... Yes, I think so, but not until I've done Uni and he's finished training.... No, I'll wait for that until he's got some money, after all, I don't want nine-carat gold and a teeny-weeny diamond....Who's being manipulative? Me?.... How's Granpa? .... Is he trying to run the ship yet?..... You didn't let him take his mess-kit did you? He really shouldn't try to outdo the Captain; he'd get clapped in irons!.... Oh Good, he needs a good holiday.....Yes I'll call her.... <AMELIA!> .... Oh before she comes, can you tell me if you kept those old baby things you used to have, we're running out of nappies here.... Where are they?.... Right I should be able to find that. Here's Amelia.... Oh before I go, can I raid the freezer, please.... Is there a bottle of wine anywhere?... Yes, the left hand rack, OK."

I handed the phone to Amelia, and began to harden my plans. I trotted down to the kitchen where the loyal Peter was making tea, took a quick cuddle in passing, and went through into the scullery where the freezer was located. I found the chopped beef and took it back into the kitchen where it could thaw. "Curry for supper? OK?... Good!" I found Gran's card index of recipes and examined the Curry card. Tinned beans! The cheat! I found them in the cupboard with the other ingredients. Gran's card was detailed with two spoonfuls for people, three for Granpa, and five for Uncle Percy. I decided to use two. Amelia walked in. "Curry for supper? OK?...Good come and help me then." I showed her the recipe card, and eventually persuaded her that only two spoonfuls were necessary. I despatched Peter to the cellar with instruction to take something suitable from the left-hand rack. Splendid. All I had to do was wait for the meat to thaw, and then I could get cracking.

After tea, I asked Peter to come up and help me in the attic. Amelia tagged along. Although it was a huge space, I located the chest without difficulty, blew the dust off the lid and opened it. It was all there, as I remembered it, and more. Amelia stared agog. "You're not getting those onto me!" she said.

"No choice, Amelia, It's either these or a flood."

I unwrapped one package and revealed plastic pants, including the frilly ones. They had been well packed and were still amazingly supple. Amelia seized on the frilly pants and roared with laughter. "These are so silly!" she said, "You didn't actually wear these did you?"

I nodded and told her they were usually for special occasions, but could be worn anytime. I took them from her, shook them out and held them before her feet. To my surprise she stepped into them, and I pulled them up over her nappy. Chuckling, she paraded in front of Peter, wiggling her backside until he patted her bottom. "Hey! What's that?" she said, and pointed at the king-size cot that lurked under a dust sheet in the corner. Peter went over and removed the sheet. The cot contained only one occupant, a large model sailing ship whose striped sides bristled with cannon. Peter lowered the side of the cot, and we examined it. Perfect in every detail except there were no crew on deck, it lay becalmed on a polythene sea, a long-forgotten ghost ship going nowhere. Peter lifted it and placed it on the top of a chest-of-drawers, the better to admire it. Amelia tried to climb over the side of the cot, but failed. Peter picked her up, and dropped her inside, and then raised the side and latched it.

"Keep you out of mischief!" he said, "no running about at night. No sleepwalking!"

She rolled back and laid smiling, hair spread around her, one leg bent, and then looked around, felt the bars on each side, ran her fingers up and down, examined the duckling painted on the headboard, then sat up and said "It's nice. I feel safe in here. Nothing can get me, nothing can go wrong. Can I use this instead of my own bed?"

"It's for little babies! And you're a big girl now!" I said.

She knelt on the mattress, resting her chin on her forearms on the top of the side-rail, "Oh, go on," she said, "It's fun, and I'd have a nappy on anyway, so it wouldn't matter!"

My face was on a level with hers. I gave her a quick peck on the nose; "Sorry, but no, Pet, it's too much bother to get it down to the nursery for only three or four nights. Come on, we've got work to do!" and I unlatched the side, and Peter lifted her out.

I continued my search of the trunk. I removed the onesie I was looking for, and took half a dozen of the larger size terry nappies, a handful of plastic pants, and a bunch of safety pins. Peter put Amelia down, took them from me, and set off for the nursery. Amelia was bent over the trunk again. She picked up a pink strapped romper, and held it against her chest. "Groovy!" she said, striking a pose, and then she put it down on top of the onesie. I helped myself to some other items, prised Amelia from the trunk and closed the lid. Amelia then helped me carry it all down to the nursery where we stacked it into the shelves under the changing table. I checked the nappies; apart from a slight whiff of camphor they were soft and clean. Some were almost new.

When I went downstairs I found that Peter had the curry well under way, and the red wine had been opened to chamber. Amelia followed, still wearing her frilly pants, and offered to pour the wine. This was promptly and pointedly refused. I let Peter carry on with the cooking, being quite interested to see the result, and sat by the kitchen table stroking Asbo. When it arrived, the curry was superb, and we all cleaned our plates. I was quite envious of Peter's skills, which he put down to a lonely childhood with both parents working hard to pay his school fees. He'd had to cook for himself several nights a week. I allowed Julia a little drop of red wine, and as much water as she wanted, and she went up to her bath very cheerfully. Her nappy was very clammy, partly from wearing the pants over the top, but she was otherwise dry. I congratulated her accordingly, and in due course dressed her for bed using a fresh disposable nappy. She was obviously very tired and I tucked her in without further ado, and I think she was asleep before I closed the nursery door.

I sat on the patio with Peter, finishing the wine, and watching the sunset and the shadows creeping out of the bushes to invade the lawn. We talked quietly, and made plans for the future. I told him that Granpa had discovered that the Commandant at Dartmouth had once been one of his lieutenants, and had made sure he knew of Peter's connection. Peter said it probably wouldn't make much difference but it was nice to know. I told him that Gran had arranged things in the expectation that he would turn up at Pembroke and keep me company, and he laughed. He well knew Gran's penchant for plotting, but was surprised that she took such a liberal moral position. I said that I had told her that we had discussed marriage but that it was not actually cut and dried. Peter went silent for a few moments, while looking hard at me, then slowly went down on one knee and formally proposed. I replied that I would have to have a little time to think about it, I'd thought about it, Yes! The shadows had completed their invasion of the lawn before we broke.

We didn't stay up late after that of course, and we made love long and slow in the last of the evening light, savouring the sensation of being one single body, eventually drifting off to sleep entwined in each other's arms.

Peter woke sharply, waking me, and dragging me back from some far, sweet land. "Amelia's crying!" he said, "Don't worry, I'll go and see to her." and left the bed. I rolled over and started counting. Four, five, six, the sound of the nursery door, seven, eight, nine, Peter discovers the problem, ten, eleven, twelve, sound of the nursery bathroom door, thirteen, fourteen, the sound of Peter throwing up. Time to move; I got out of bed and walked to the nursery, donning my dressing gown as I did so. When I got there I didn't need to ask; the smell hit me like a wall. The curry had done its job, and there was a very shamefaced Amelia standing astride a very dirty nappy, while Peter put the remainder of his own supper into the sewerage system. If Peter ever had the idea that nappies were in any way attractive, I had effectively stamped that idea into the ground.

I closed the nursery door behind me to keep the smell out of the rest of the house, and took the bag of wipes from the changing table. A quick check on Peter showed that he would probably survive, and I steered Amelia carefully into the bathroom, and started to wipe her down. With the situation under control, I stood her in the shower and washed her down with the shower head and wrapped her in a towel. Finally I rolled the nappy up and stuffed it into a plastic bag with the wipes and tied it off. Peter was now recovered, and picked the red-eyed Amelia up, cuddled her while he carried her to the changing table. I stopped him and directed them to the toilet bowl; I thought I would give Amelia a chance to complete her business before I put another nappy on her. I washed my hands carefully, and then steered Peter towards the nursery window where the gentle night breeze brought the sweet scent of the pine trees into the room. "Now do you see what the other side of children and nappies can be like?" I asked. "You realise that this is a part of the marriage thing, and it all comes as a package, don't you?"

Peter looked at me. For one terrible moment I thought he was going to cut and run, but he reached out and took my hands, and told me that worse things happened at sea, and even worse when it came to the matter of field toilets. He had just been taken by surprise, that was all. He asked if Amelia was all right, and should we call the doctor. I reassured him that a dirty nappy was not normally reason to call the ambulance, and he relaxed a little. The flush of the toilet heralded Amelia's reappearance and she came over to Peter, eyes downcast, and said she was very sorry that she had had the accident, she wouldn't have another one ever, and he wasn't to blame Juliet for giving her curry, which Juliet knew could do this to her. Ah! That put the onus back onto me! Peter thanked her, forgave her, picked her up and carried her over to the changing table where he put her into a fresh nappy. I even let him apply the ointment this time, as I felt it was probably politic to keep my head down at that moment. I checked Amelia's bed for any evidence of leaks, but the nappy had done its job, and the bed was clean. Peter put her back to bed, drew the bedclothes up over her, and kissed her goodnight. We retired to our own bed.

That was mean, that really was MEAN! You used poor little Amelia as a tool in order to teach Peter a tuppenny lesson that he well knew about anyway! - That's quite promising really; I admire your style! The demon nagged me. A little girl like that made to crap herself so you could show Peter what a dirty nappy could be like! What about her self-respect? She'll be killing herself now with the thought that she has offended Peter and he won't like her, and he'll leave, and you'll blame her for that as well! Poor kid! She isn't due for the miseries of love for years yet!

Oh, Demon, I'm sorry!

Moaning about being sorry isn't enough. What are you going to do about it? Peter must have figured it out, you know, he's not stupid, even for a human. He's never going to trust you again you know, and just when you had got him banged to rights!

All right, I'll confess it to him, and ask him to forgive me. And the same for Amelia, too.

Confession, confession, you Humans are all the same. No sooner do we get the fire all stoked up and rosy warm, you 'fess up and suddenly I've lost my commission and we've wasted all that coke. I don't know, I'm going to give this game up and become an Estate Agent. Or a Traffic Warden. Even a Financial Adviser. Have the chance to do some real evil!

I woke early, and as I did, Peter's hands stirred on my tummy, and began their usual morning caress. I rolled over towards him, "Peter are you awake?" Pretty pointless, as his hands were certainly already awake. He murmured affirmatively. "Peter, I've got a bit of a confession to make..." and carefully and haltingly I told him how I'd set him and Amelia up, and why I'd done it. I told him I was sorry and asked him for his forgiveness. I begged him not to hold it against me, and said I would accept his punishment and do anything to make amends. His blue eyes opened and looked deeply into mine.

The spanking that followed was swift, painful and very undignified, but the subsequent lovemaking was quite exceptional.

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Amelia's Waterloo

Eventually I got up and went to see Amelia. I found her up, cheerful and wet. I took her nappy off and started to clean her up again. I told her the same as I had told Peter, although I left off the invitation to punish me. She cheerfully forgave me and even laughed at the memory, saying it was all behind her, apart from some between her legs. She would just have to be careful of sisters bearing curry in the future. She also confessed to deliberately wetting her nappy the day before, because she wanted Peter to change her in the open air. I was about to protest when she held out her hand and said "Quits?", and we shook on it.

She was grinning up at me. "So when's the big day then?" she asked.

"What day?" I queried.

"Oh come on! I watched you last night on the patio. I thought Peter did it so nicely! Where's the ring?"

"You were supposed to be fast asleep in bed? What were you doing out of bed at that time of night? Spying on us?"

"Yes." she replied simply, "You must remember what it's like being a child. Nobody ever tells you about anything, or why anything, they just tell you to do this, think that, believe the other, and to be quiet. I need to know what's going on. I have to get out of bed and listen and find out. I'm not a baby any more you know!"

"You'll be told in good time!"

"Yes. The postman's cousin's next-door neighbour's nephew will tell me in the school playground before any of you will tell me anything! As for the dirty-nappy business, was that why Peter spanked you this morning?"

I felt my face redden. "Yes...how did you know about that?"

"I was outside the door. Funny way of praying you've got!"

"What do you mean?"

"You're supposed to say "Our Father who art in heaven" not just "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!""

I grabbed Granpa's slipper from the top of the dresser; "Come Here, you little so-and-so!" but she escaped through the door at a speed I couldn't possibly match, so I threw the slipper at the back of the door. We feed them too much meat these days, I've decided.

Amelia continued to vamp Peter through breakfast, but he didn't react to her outside the normal niceties. The morning was filled with minor chores and we took Asbo for a walk in the nearby woods, and lunchtime found us outside on the patio enjoying the perfect weather. Peter's parents had long since moved away from the house next door, to Peter's and my chagrin, and we sat and discussed who we should tell about our new status, and when. There was no hurry, since we were looking at years to go to the wedding. I had got used to waiting years for Peter, because we were so young when we met, and a little longer was not unbearable. I was, for obvious reasons, not in a hurry to start a family and our careers would separate us for much of the time. The Navy was going to move Peter around a lot, so homebuilding would be difficult, so we decided to proceed at a leisurely pace.

The phone rang. Hello Gran! Yes everything's fine...No, we haven't been burgled...Yes Amelia's fine, although we've been having a little difficulty with her...Yes, we had curry last night, with the usual result, but her nappy caught it...Yes, we got some of those down from the attic....erm..The problem is that she won't stay in bed, and she listens outside our door and I'm afraid it's going to cramp our style a bit..... What did say you did?...Yes I've seen it, the king-size one.... You're Joking! ...And did it work?... I just can't see Mum in that, the mind boggles...I wondered what it was for... Well, I suppose if the result was Uncle Percy and Aunt Emma then it must have been worth it! Emma, certainly.... We could try, I suppose.... I don't know if she would object; she seemed fascinated when we plonked her in it yesterday, she's a funny kid, isn't she...Yes we were only fooling around....Nice ship model, Peter's much impressed...did he really? I didn't know he could make things like that...I'll tell Peter...erm, I'll call her, but I'd better tell you the good news before she blabs it, Peter proposed last night and I accepted...Thanks, I knew you'd be delighted...we're keeping it a bit quiet, because it'll be years before we can do the business. Yes Love to Granpa... OK I'll call her....<AMELIA!>...yes here she comes...I'll speak to you later. Yes him too, if you can get him away from the Captain.

I passed the phone over to Amelia, and she began to chat eagerly. The first thing she told Gran was about our engagement, as I expected, but when the subject got onto curry I backed out. My backside was still just a trifle sore, as were other parts, but I had discovered Amelia's nappy ointment had another use. I went and found Peter, and told him what had been said. We repaired to the attic and started to move the cot downstairs piece by piece, and by-and-by Amelia arrived full of questions.

"Oh Come On, don't be silly, I was only joking!"

"After this morning, Amelia dear, I am not. Your wish to sleep in the cot is granted, and I am sure you will find it as pleasurable as you said it would be."

"I could climb out over the side if I had to!"

"I'll line the top with barbed wire then. You are going to bed in this tonight and you are not going to wander about the place spying and eavesdropping. Tough!"

"What if I need to go to the toilet?"

"When have you ever gone to the toilet in the night then? You'll just have to use your nappy as you usually do."

"Well, I might want to."

"Amelia, if you start using the toilet instead of your nappies, I will be over the moon! You can then sleep in a proper bed and be treated as a proper grown-up. Until then, you are sleeping in here! I'll tell Asbo to guard you and if you try to get out, he'll bite you."

"No, he won't. Asbo and I have a thing going!"

"I've got a thing going with Asbo, too. It's called "supper". He knows where his dog-food comes from."

"What if I need you? Will you hear me from there?"

"We'll hear you!"

"Will I be able to hear Peter spanking you?"

"How do you fancy a bit of spanking yourself, Amelia?"

"What will Gran and Mum say when they find out?"

"Gran knows. She had this specially made to hold Mum when she was little and used to wander about at night. Gran suggested it. Try again, Amelia!"

"Not fair. Just because you are bigger than me!"

"Yup! Life's a bind, isn't it?"

We erected the cot in the nursery. It took nearly the same mattress as a normal bed, and so there was no problem with bedclothes. When it was all completed Peter hooked Amelia up and plonked her on the bed, and quickly raised the side. "Gotcha!"

Amelia stood up, and it was plain that the side didn't go higher than her breastbone. She could certainly get out if she wanted to, but not without fuss. I noted that the sides actually latched around the end of the cot, making it quite difficult to get at them from inside. I am sure Amelia would crack it, but it would be difficult to do so silently without being detected. It was a very clever design. She stuck her tongue out at me, and I responded in kind.

"Remember the Eleventh Commandment, Amelia!"

"No, how does that one go?"

"It goes "Thou Shalt Not Push Thy Luck""

She sat down and laid back. "I'd better get used to it then. Do I get time off for good behaviour?"

"I think another half-an-hour on bedtime would be reasonable, since you won't have to spend half the night creeping about listening at doors!"

"Fair enough. But bath time and nappy to be half-an-hour later as well?"

"Done!"

"Splendid. Now can I get back to the exercise yard?"

I let her go. I had one or two little surprises to prepare for her later.

Granpa rang to congratulate us. It was very thoughtful of him to take the time off from trying to run the ship, and I hope the Captain was duly grateful. I assured him that we hadn't been burgled, and told him the details of the night before; the clean ones, that is. He was delighted, and asked to speak to Peter, so I put him on. Their conversation was a long one, and quite predictable. I was only concerned about Peter's remark about "I've got her under control." because I didn't know if it referred to me or to Amelia, and my backside told me it could be me who was now under control. However Peter's confirmation of "the right hand rack" sounded more promising. Amelia crowded round and asked to seek to Granpa, and her conversation was unusual in that she spent most of the time listening. Her replies were limited to "Yes...I'll be good...I'll try..." and similar expressions and I wondered how much Granpa had been told.

Peter and I had our first row over who should cook supper. Both if us wanted to do it; I wanted to do my wifely thing and Peter wanted to eat. Eventually we compromised and settled on steak, Peter to grill it and me to do the fixings. Peter went down the cellar and reappeared with an expensively dusty bottle with a crest moulded into the shoulder, and opened it so it could chamber. "From the right hand rack: Chateauneuf du Pape!" he said, "Wonderful stuff. "The Pope's New House". After a bottle of that you'll understand why they have to carry him around in a chair."

The meal, by candlelight, went very well. Amelia behaved, and was rewarded with a small glass of wine, only being instructed to sip it very slowly and not to slurp it as though it was blackcurrant. She approved greatly of the wine, as we did; Granpa obviously knew his grapes.

It was long after the agreed bedtime that we left Peter to do the washing-up, - after all, what are husbands for if not for that? - and I guided Amelia as she swayed up the stairs for a for her bath,. I folded a terry nappy on the changing table, and added a booster and a even a liner after last-night's performance; I wanted her to be comfortable no matter what should pass. Amelia came out of the bathroom draped in a bath-towel, took one look, and said "Oh God! Not that!" and started to retreat. I grabbed her and explained that we were very short of her usual disposables and would keep the remainder for emergencies. In fact, with all the other things, I hadn't had a chance to get into town to re-stock, and I wasn't to anxious to stretch the housekeeping too far. I helped onto the table and made her lift her bottom while I slipped it underneath. I made busy with more ointment than usual, and then reached for the powder, which wasn't normally used because it made the tapes difficult to fix, and let her smell the top. She smiled, and I applied a generous cloud over her nappy area. Then I pulled the front of her nappy up, and carefully pinned the sides, remembering to put a finger underneath to avoid pricking her. She sat up and I enquired which plastic pants Her Ladyship would care to wear tonight. It was no surprise when she selected the frilly ones, and I slipped them over her ankles and stood her up, pulled them up to her waist and then made sure that the nappy was tucked inside the elastics all round, especially round her legs. She staggered briefly, reached inside her baby pants, adjusted her nappy and complained that it was much too thick; she wouldn't be able to walk anywhere, and I replied that she wasn't going anywhere, but I wanted her to be comfortable right through the night without needing a change - because this time I would not be available. Her nappy was much bulkier than the disposables she normally wore, and I hoped it would be similarly more absorbent. I produced the little white lacy nightie from the trunk, and slipped it over her head, and adjusted the balloon sleeves. Finally I sat her on the footstool and began brushing her long curly locks into some semblance of order. For once I was really enjoying looking after my little sister, when Peter came in, and admired her, then picked her up, lifted her legs over the rail, and laid her down into her cot. I added her teddy, and then in a moment of wickedness, a baby's rattle and, while both arms were so engaged, plonked a pacifier into her mouth. She promptly spat the pacifier out with contempt, and told me "Thou Shalt Not Push Thy Luck, sister!" Peter laughed, picked the pacifier up, and replaced it. Amelia tried to laugh with it in her mouth, and almost succeeded. I lifted the camera out of its hiding place and photographed her lying there in the cot. The rattle instantly flew past my ear, followed by the misnamed pacifier, and I withdrew sharply before a furious Amelia could grab the camera.

"That's my insurance!" I told her, "No getting out during the night or I'll make sure the prints fall into the wrong hands!" She stuck her tongue out at me, and I photographed that. Deflated she held her arms out in appeal to Peter, who responded with a hug, and a pat on her frilly bottom. The little minx promptly kissed Peter on the mouth, and I just managed to photograph that as well; I was enjoying myself greatly. Eventually I had to call "Break" and she reluctantly let go of Peter and sat down in the cot. I gave her a kiss, pulled the bedclothes up over her as she subsided, wished her to sleep well and stay dry, and lifted the side of the cot and latched it. She looked sweetly up at me and told me not to get spanked again. I quietly nudged the footstool under the side-rail so it couldn't be opened except from the outside, blew her a kiss, turned the light out, and closed the nursery door. Firmly.

Peter and I retired to the lounge where we finished off the wine. Peter wanted to take me into town to visit the jewellers, and I did my best to dissuade him; I wasn't having him go into debt in order to buy a bauble, however much I would like one - I needed no further proof of his love. He told me he had come into some money on his twenty-first, left by his grandfather, and thought a ring would be an excellent investment. When it was put like that, I found it very hard to argue, even though I thought it extravagant. We laughed at Amelia and her antics, and Peter said that he had always wanted a little brother or sister, and was delighted with her, although he admitted that she was a bit of a handful. We talked Uni, and his intended career, and a dozen other things, before we locked up and made our way upstairs.

I opened the nursery door very quietly and in the loom of the landing light I went to check Amelia. She was lying on her stomach, one leg bent, with the bedclothes pushed down, in a tumble of curls and frills. I slipped a finger inside the leg of her baby pants to check her nappy, and she murmured that she was still dry. I asked her if she needed the toilet, and she said no, she'd rather sleep. I pulled the bedclothes up, but she rolled over, pushed them down again, and bent her other leg. I crept out of the room, and wondered how long it would be before I would have a child of my own to look after, and wondered if it would have the same forceful personality as Amelia. The prospect warmed me.

I stood at the dressing table, removing my things, when Peter loomed up behind me, slid his hands round my waist, cupped my breasts, and kissed me hard on the nape of my neck, releasing a long low growl that vibrated all the way through me. The night's work was obviously not over.

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Asbo's Moment

Peter was up early the following morning, and we eventually got up about an hour later. There was a great relief in knowing that Amelia was not outside listening in, and I actually felt a bit guilty at leaving her so late. As it turned out, she was still asleep when I went into the nursery, and then I recalled that she had been unusually late the night before. Asbo climbed out of his basket, stretched, and gratefully trotted past me bound for the garden; I followed him downstairs and let him out. Peter had made the tea, and we took the tray upstairs, I took a cup into the nursery for Amelia. She was now sitting up in her cot, her face framed by curtains of curly brown hair. I drew back the thick curtains and let the sunshine in. "Can I get out of this thing, now?" she said. "I think I've done my time, and I didn't try to get out in the night. I even used my nappy like you told me too. Otherwise I'd have been dry." She gave me a filthy look. I pulled the footstool out from under the cot, and lowered the side to help her out, noticing the sag of a very wet nappy within her pants. She stripped her nightie off, and dropped it on the chair, and crossed to the bathroom before sliding her nappy and pants down, stepping immediately into the shower. A brief but frantic search located the nappy pail in one of the cupboards, and I pushed it into the bathroom, and told her to take the pins out and put the nappy into it, and then I left her to it.

I came downstairs a little later to find Peter grilling a full English breakfast. He old me it was an absolute essential in Navy terms so that a man could go out and spend a busy day sailing the ocean blue, maiming, murdering and destroying the Queen's enemies. I told him that was a load of bullshit; Granpa had always told me that a sailor's breakfast usually consisted of a maximum-tar cigarette and a good cough. Peter suggested that we go and look at jewellers, and I replied that I didn't want to do it with Amelia in tow, and we had no-one on which we could double-dump her. He took my point. At this moment the non-dumpable child walked in, dressed in tee shirt and shorts, as fresh as a daisy, and asking what was going to happen today. I admitted that I hadn't thought that far ahead yet, and Peter said he thought the lawn needed mowing, as it was growing a lovely crop of daisies and a few bents. I had some laundry to do - a little more thanks to Amelia's generous contribution - and decided to get on with it.

Peter started to explore the garden shed with a view to mowing the lawn and Amelia kept herself out of the way by making a chain of the daisies before Peter decapitated them. She had just strung enough together to make herself a tiara when there was a crash and a curse from the shed, and a huge grey rat bolted out and ran straight at Amelia. Undeterred by her shriek, it ran straight towards her, leapt onto her lap, and used her as a springboard in its flight towards the far hedge. It never got there. A streak of white intercepted it in mid-air, there was one terrible snap, and then the joint object resolved itself into two; the rat tumbling end-over-end, and Asbo somersaulting across the lawn. Asbo got back to his feet, span around, threw divots from his paws as he accelerated back towards the twitching rat, fastened his teeth into its already-broken neck and shook it violently to and fro right in front of the horrified Amelia. I managed to field her as she ran wailing across the patio, but by then it was too late; she had had an accident in her shorts, and the evidence was running down her legs.

I guided the sobbing child into the laundry room, removed her sodden shorts and pants, wiped her down, wrapped her in a towel and took her back up to the nursery, soothing her all the while. She had never seen Asbo kill a rat before, although ratting had been a frequent pastime at the stables where he had learnt his craft, and I doubt if she had ever seen anything actually killed before. She was shaking like a leaf, clutching at me, and as her sobs permitted she just said "Horrible! Horrible!" over and over again. Even after I had showered her, and soaped and washed every single inch of her in warm clean water, she was still trembling, and kept wiping her hands over the area where the rat had touched her.

I helped her into a fresh tee shirt, and we both then stopped for a moment, and our eyes met. Rules were rules, and the rule was if the child had an accident, then she was put back into nappies until she could show that she could manage herself, and it had been set and reinforced by generations of tut-tutting womenfolk. I thought for a moment. We were drastically short of disposables, it was Sunday, the shops were closed, the supermarkets didn't stock her size, and the need was immediate. With reluctance I took one of the cloth nappies from the rack, spread it on the changing table and folded it. With equal reluctance Amelia got up onto the table, laid back, and raised her legs while I slid it underneath and positioned it. "Sorry, Little Sis," I said, "But rules are rules, and you know we must obey." She sighed, and slowly and deliberately I pulled the front of the nappy up between her legs and pinned it carefully at either side. I picked a pair of plain white plastic pants and slipped them over her ankles, then she stood up, I pulled them up over her nappy to her waist, and adjusted the leg elastics, pushing them up into her nappy to minimise any leaks. I performed the familiar ritual slowly and carefully, and the very act of care-giving seemed to soothe her. There was no way her jeans would have fitted over the bulk of her nappy, so I dressed her in the pink romper she had admired, passing the straps over her shoulder and buttoning them to the bib one by one, then put her sandals back on, talking to her softly all the time. She had stopped trembling, and had stopped wiping her hands over her lap. Presumably she felt the thickness of her nappy was now sufficient protection for her in that department. I took her by the hand and we went downstairs. She waddled cautiously out onto the patio, and Peter, seeing her, stopped the mower and came over.

"Are you all right, pet?" he said, and she nodded. He put an arm around her. "That was a very nasty fright you had. Never mind, Asbo has searched every inch of the shed, and there are no more rats in there." At the mention of his name, Asbo snorted in confirmation as if to certify the rat-free nature of the shed. Amelia began to cheer up. "I saved this for you." Peter said, and produced Amelia's daisy chain, placed it gently on her brow, and adjusted it. Amelia smiled, and thanked him. "You look so pretty, like a fairy princess!" said the ever-tactful Peter, and Amelia turned to admire her reflection in the glass of the French doors. Peter gave her a pat, and then went back to the mower. She tipped the circlet over one eye and struck a pose. I relaxed; I knew that once she had recovered her sense of humour, the rest would not be far behind. The only one who didn't relax was Asbo, who guarded Amelia assiduously; we are a naval family, and our traditions have even infected the dog.

We had our lunch on the patio, as had become our habit. When Peter began to clear the table, I asked Amelia if she needed the toilet. She shook her head, so I asked her again, and again she refused. I then told her that I intended to take a nap while the day was so hot. The little minx looked at me and winked, and then said that she would take one too, provided that she was given credit for it this evening, and wouldn't have to do it in the cot. After due negotiation we settled on like-for-like, but this time to include bath time and nappy time in the equation. This would allow a longer and more leisurely supper. I extracted her promise, on pain of death, that she would not come and spy on us, and she agreed, stating that she intended to use the sun-lounger on the lawn, in the dappled shade of the cherry tree. I agreed, and out of instinct checked her nappy, which was dry.

"You don't have to check me. I know if I'm wet." She protested.

"Only checking. Do you want the toilet now, or can you manage until after your nap?"

"I don't really need to go now. If I have to wait because you're napping, can I have a Free One if I need it, rather than disturb you?" she asked and I agreed. I followed Peter into the kitchen with the remaining items from our lunch, and as he stacked them on the draining board, I grabbed him from behind and commandeered his services. Sleeping was not exactly the first thing on my mind as I led him upstairs; I checked that Amelia was safely ensconced on the sun lounger, and then took him to bed, and gave him, in his own words, a thorough going-over.

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Peter's Move

I overslept the following morning, and only awoke to the sound of a teacup arriving on my bedside table. There are worse ways to wake. Peter was pouring again, when the familiar patter of little feet came through the door. Enter Amelia, bright and cheerful, accompanied by Asbo, even brighter. Amelia promptly leaps up on the bed and I have to stop Asbo from doing the same, fending off a wild greeting that says he hasn't seen me for at least a few hours. Amelia crawled across to me, and instinctively I checked her nappy.

"Don't need to." She said, "I had a dry night! Peter let me out of my cage this morning, and I was able to get to the loo."

"Oh! Well done! First of many!" I replied, still checking her nappy out of sheer habit "So why have you got one on now?"

"In case I have an accident on your bed. I don't know - am I still in nappies after yesterday's accident? Peter seemed to think I was."

"A good question. I think we will have to do some shopping today..."

"For a ring? Oh Please Take Me! I'd love to come!"

"Sorry, I want to do that with Peter, just us. It's very personal, between the two of us, and we would want to take our time. I'm the one who has to wear it, remember. No, what I was thinking of was more nappies for you and some fresh vegetables so we don't have to live out of the freezer the whole time."

"Oh surely a ring is more important! Nappies are boring, besides there are plenty of cloth ones to use."

"I still want to do it with Peter only. Sorry, that's that. ... Besides, I thought you didn't like cloth ones?"

"Oh, they're rather babyish, but quite comfortable: less sweaty in this weather."

"I still want to get you some more disposables. I'm sure Mum would prefer them, and then you'll have a supply when you go home."

"There's another bag at home, so I won't be short; there won't be a flood."

"Mum said there weren't any."

"Never mind, I'm sure she'll manage cloth for a night."

I looked at her sitting cross-legged on the bed. Her nappy might be comfortable, but her posture suggested that it was pushing her legs apart. I felt rather happier that she had one on while she was sitting on our bed, and I began to appreciate Gran's view that it was less trouble to keep the child in nappies if there were any doubts at all about her continence. However, I certainly didn't want her trailing around in public with one on because there wouldn't be any way to conceal it under light summer clothing.

Peter broke my train of thought. "What about going to the wild animal park today?" he said. Amelia leapt at the suggestion, and I agreed cheerfully.

Then a thought struck me. "We would have to stay in the car for quite a long time; we can't get out in case a lion eats us. It's a nappy trip, I'm afraid." I said to Amelia.

"OK, that's fair. I'd hate to be caught short at the wrong moment. Can I have a Free One if necessary?"

"Yes, I think so, if absolutely necessary. How many have we got left?"

"Only two. That's why I'm in cloth."

"We'll use one of them and use that onesie to cover it so it doesn't show. We'd better get some more, anyway. I haven't heard from Mum, and I don't know exactly when she's coming back. I'd feel easier if we had some here. We'll do our bit of shopping and go straight out from there. We'll start straight after breakfast."

First stop was the chemist, but, alas, between the car and the chemist was a jewellers shop, and of course I couldn't help looking. We looked at the rings, and there was this beautiful diamond and sapphire ring at an absurd price, so I shunted Peter on and we bought nappies instead. How Romantic! Then we had to walk back past the jewellers, and of course, it was still there even more beautiful and at what seemed to have become a less absurd price. I shunted Peter on, and we went and bought vegetables instead. We got back to the car, and sat there. I asked Peter what he was waiting for. He got out of the car again, came round my side, and opened the door. "Out!" he said and out I climbed, protesting. Amelia made to follow. He tapped her on the nose. "Stay" he commanded and then "Guard!" and he led me by the hand back to the jewellers shop. It's a really beautiful ring, and it's mine now.

I don't remember the drive to the wild animal park. I spent the entire trip admiring my new ring, and fending Amelia off when she demanded an ever-closer look. I didn't really pay attention until a tiger walked past the car, six feet away, glancing at us with total indifference. Amelia picked Asbo up, pointed him towards the tiger and said "Look, Asbo, Great Big Pussycat! Chase him!" After one brief growl Asbo looked at the tiger, did a splendid double take, the tiger looked disinterestedly at him, and for the first time ever I saw Asbo nonplussed. His ears went down, his tail went down, and he directed a look of pathetic appeal towards me.

I leaned over and patted him, "Alright, Asbo, don't worry, he's a bit big, even for a Jack Russell." and Amelia put him down, whereupon he dived into the foot-well and cowered, trembling.

We continued slowly into the lions' enclosure in the queue of cars, stopping every so often to admire the creatures as they ignored us. It was an overcast day and very humid and even with the blower running Peter's car was quite stuffy and claustrophobic; of course we couldn't open the windows while we were amongst the lions. We passed the camera to and fro as the opportunities arose, and even Asbo began to relax, and take cautious peeps out of the window. We were at the furthest point when I realised that I wanted to have a pee. I didn't want to spoil the party, so I remained quiet, but the combination of stuffy car and traffic jam began to get the better of me. I mentioned my problem to Peter and he began to look for the way out. The cars in front were patently unaware of the urgency of my situation, and there was no way through to the exit. I began to panic a bit, and my stress communicated itself to Peter. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and Amelia was trying to pass me a nappy. I glowered at her, and she smirked back. "Sauce for the goose, big sister!" she chuckled. I felt like strangling her, and throwing the body out to the lions. The perfect murder! Just then the cars in front began to move, and Peter slipped the MGB through the gap and up to the gates. I was never more relieved.

We had lunch in the café, and I used their changing room to give Amelia a change, although she didn't actually need it. We now had a good supply of nappies and a fresh one was much appreciated. Earlier she had followed me into the toilets at a more leisurely pace, but afterwards she had not bothered to refasten the onesie underneath, so I corrected that. It helped to conceal her nappy very well, and I had no wish to see her embarrassed.

We got back to Pembroke as the heavens opened, and we managed to get inside with moments to spare before we got completely soaked - two nice days followed by a thunderstorm: ever the British Summer. As I was freshening up the phone rang.

"Hi Mum!... Yes, everything's fine, we've got... No, we haven't been burgled, but we've got... Yes, she's fine, she's been very good, we've got.... Yes Peter's fine, we've got.... Now hang on a moment Mum, I'm trying to tell you we've got engaged!..... Yes, really and properly, and I've got a ring and everything..... Diamond and sapphire, and it's beautiful.... Oh don't cry, be happy.... Well you're not losing me, and you're gaining Peter!.... Well, it'll be a while yet, although Amelia is already choosing her bridesmaid outfit.... Yes, I've told Gran, she rang yesterday.... They're fine.... Tomorrow?.... Yes, what time?.... What all the way? ....you'll be later than that, surely?... OK, I'll put her to bed if you're going to be that late, then... You've remembered the champagne haven't you? Well don't forget, we've got something to celebrate, haven't we?... Yes, I'll call her...<AMELIA!> ... Yes, here she comes..."

I handed the phone over to Amelia, and listened as she told Mum the same news all over again. Then I went to find Peter. As expected, Mum then wanted to speak to Peter, and Dad spoke to me, and so on, and it must have cost them a fortune. I was amazed that they had enough change for the phone box. Afterwards I went along and broached the sanctity of Granpa's study. I found a chart of the North Sea and called Peter to examine it. Peter agreed that it seemed unlikely that they could get back to from Ostend to the Haven in one day's sailing, and he said that the wind would probably go westerly after the storm, and freshen. Unless they came via Dover and jumped ship there, they would be most unlikely to make it back in one day, and the North Sea shipping lanes were not a place to be at night in a small yacht. It looked like I would be stuck with Amelia for one more day at least.

I sat back in the big leather chair and thought of the implications. My eyes came to rest on the picture of Granpa after he had been to the Palace to get his "K". Full uniform, sword at his hip, a star at his neck, and a small girl sitting on his arm: Me: aged eight. I used to hate the picture, because the frill of my pants was just visible on his forearm and it seemed to me that the whole world must have seen that I was still in nappies at eight years old. Now I could look at it with equanimity: I had moved on so much since then. I noticed the eyes for the first time, and the remarkable similarity between the generations. I think it was that similarity which had made it one of Granpa's favourite pictures. It occurred to me that Amelia had the same eyes as well, large, deep set and designed to sweep horizons.

I managed Boeuf Bourguignon for supper. I felt it was a triumph! Nobody was sick and I was even congratulated by Amelia, who is famously picky with her food. I helped myself to a bottle from the left-hand rack, used a little of it in the bouef, and shared the rest with Peter. Oh yes, Amelia had a little taste as well. Not very much. Just enough to make her sleepy. She was so tired that when I had got her onto the changing table she almost went to sleep there and then, which was just as well because I realised I had left the new bag of disposables in the car, and I had to use an old cloth one. Amelia didn't seem to mind, or even notice, and I popped her straight into her cot without further ado. She asked me to leave the sides down in case she wanted the toilet in the night. I was slightly surprised, but it was a very reasonable request, the joke about putting her in a cot had certainly worn thin and I had made my point about it, so I left the side down. Amelia then said that she was determined to stay dry that night, and I kissed her and tucked her in.

Much later, after the late film, and on our way to bed, I looked in on her, and out of respect for her wishes, I got her up and made her use the toilet. It was only a matter of undoing a pin, whereas the disposable tapes often tore when being removed, and seldom seemed to refasten very reliably. Even though she was three parts asleep, Amelia even thanked me. Confident that she was going to be a good child for once, I coiled myself into Peter's arms and I think we both went off to sleep within moments. It had been a very good day.

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The Sailor's Return

When I awoke, the sun was streaming in around the curtains, and Peter was splashing in the shower. I thought of Gran's advice about being a sailor's wife, the long absences and the need to retain him by making up for those absences when he returned home. She had also told me to make sure he never volunteered for the Submarine Branch, as it always took about three days of showers to get the "sub" smell out of them when they came back. With this in mind I joined Peter in the shower and we made love slowly and gently. As a result I was a little later than usual in checking on Amelia, and when I went into the nursery she was also splashing about in the shower. Her nappy and pants were discarded in the middle of the bathroom, and I was surprised to find the nappy was dry. Dry two mornings running! This was progress! I left her to it, and went to get dressed. A little later Amelia knocked on the door, which was most unusual, since she normally simply strolled straight in. I called her in, and she came into the doorway, silhouetted against the morning sun, her mane of hair catching the light like a halo. She asked me very politely if she was to wear a nappy today, as there were no disposables and she wasn't sure of how to put the cloth ones on, and would need help. Duly charmed, I congratulated her on her dry night and told her that since she had been dry since the accident, she didn't have to, but she could have one if she felt she needed it. Unsurprisingly she declined and, with honour satisfied on both sides, she withdrew.

Peter arrived with a tray of tea and Amelia joined us. For a few moments I felt a little worried at the sight of Amelia unprotected upon our bed, but reason prevailed, and there was no accident. I was tempted to enquire the reason for this unprecedented spate of good behaviour, but I was afraid that such a question might break the spell. Then it occurred to me; Mum and Dad would be back tonight, hopefully, and Amelia had no advantage to play for and every reason to need a good report. It looked like I was in for an easy day.

Walking Asbo was something of a priority, and we went to the woods during the morning. The weather was fresher, and Peter said that the wind had gone more northerly than he expected, and so Mum and Dad might make it across the North Sea without having to stay at Dover for the night. I hoped it was so; I really wanted to see them, and show them my new ring. I thought of returning Amelia to Mum and Dad and having Pembroke to ourselves for a few days, and I began to think of the various things we could do if left to ourselves. I tightened my grip on Peter's hand and pulled him a little closer. I had to admit that whenever Amelia was behaving well, she was actually a lot of fun, I wondered what children Peter and I might have, and what they would be like. We stopped at a pub by the canal on the way back, and had lunch sitting beside the towpath, watching the narrow-boats chug gently past. A stroll along the towpath followed, but I thought we should go back to await the aged parents, so we were back by mid afternoon. Amelia started to pack her bag, ready to go home, but I told her that I would be very surprised if she went home that evening; tomorrow morning was much more likely. I made a large casserole, as I wanted something to offer Mum & Dad if they turned up late and hungry.

Teatime came and went and we had heard nothing, and I decided to continue on the basis that they wouldn't make it that day. I prepared supper, and told Amelia that she would be going to bed at the normal time, but would be woken if Mum and dad arrived during the evening. She protested, but I remained firm. I could see that we would have had a late night and a real scene if I they didn't turn up. I left Amelia a little later than usual, anyway, and finally insisted on bath and bed. She went under some protest, but I explained that they might be very late.

For once, Amelia behaved very well, and I scrubbed her back and made sure that she washed behind her ears - I was making sure that she would be handed back in perfect condition. She trotted over to the changing table, and to my surprise she took a cloth nappy out of the rack and put it on the table.

"Don't you want a disposable?"

"Can I have one of these tonight? You can use lots of powder so they're not sticky, and if I stay dry, then it's less wasteful." she replied

I raised one eyebrow. "You're sure you're going to stay dry, then?"

"I'm certainly going to try. Three in a row? I don't think I've managed that before. I can ask for the toilet when they arrive, and there's no problem with the tapes. Besides, I like those frilly pants, they're a lot prettier than a disposable. It's probably the last chance I'll have to wear them for a while."

"OK. That's fair. If they don't make it tonight - which is quite possible - I'll get you out and make you go to the toilet before I go to bed. I'm sure Mum'll be impressed if you manage the hat trick." I shook the nappy open, and began to fold it. It was almost a new one, and so I didn't use a booster, and I felt a liner would be insulting. "Up you pop!" She climbed on to the table, laid herself in the middle of the nappy, and I applied a large dollop of ointment. Nappy-rash was not a part of my plan. I followed it with a cloud of baby powder which went almost everywhere, brought the nappy up between her thighs, pinned it carefully at the sides, and tucked the surplus in around her legs. It looked very neat, and I was quite proud of my expertise. I repositioned one pin to pull it a little tighter round her waist, and shook out the plastic pants.

"Hup!" she lifted her legs and I slipped the pants up over her ankles, raised her and dropped her to the floor, before pulling the pants up to her waist and running my fingers around the elastics to ensure that the nappy was all tucked in. "There you are, all done, that should be leak-proof!" I said.

"Won't have to be. I'm determined to stay dry tonight!"

"Good idea, but don't worry about it, I can always change you if they decide to take you home."

"I'm not worried about it. I'm just going to do it."

"'Fraid its got to be the cot again, I'm not going to change everything over now."

"No problem, but please leave the side down in case I have to go."

"If you do, make sure you tuck everything in again so we don't get a leak. That would spoil everything, wouldn't it?"

"I will!"

I slipped her nightie on over her head, and settled it down over her pants. I spent some time brushing her hair, not that she really needed it, but I wanted her to be perfect when Mum returned, and I quite liked doing it anyway. The end result was one very pretty child, whom I tucked into bed, kissed, and wished good night.

As I left the nursery the phone rang. It was Mum; they'd reached the marina, and would stop for a meal and be back in about three hours. I told her that we had a casserole ready if she wanted to eat at Pembroke, and she said in that case they probably would, but they would have to sort out the boat anyway. I told Amelia, since she had obviously heard the phone, and went down to tell Peter.

About three hours later Asbo trotted out into the hall and barked at the front door. A minute or so later, the loom of a car's headlights shone into the windows and tyres crunched on the drive. The door was opened, and effusive greetings were exchanged across a wildly leaping Asbo, before Dad carried in a cardboard box bearing the name of Veuve Cliquot, which emitted an interesting clinking sound. We retired to the dining room where I produced the casserole and Peter produced a bucket of ice, into which a bottle of The Widow was placed to cool. My engagement ring was admired, and, thirst prevailing, the champagne was broached, albeit having had almost no time to chill.

A glass and a half downwind, and over an empty plate, Mum asked about Amelia. I was able to say that she had been very good, and Mum smiled rather archly. We both knew the naval custom of describing a sailor's behaviour as being "very good" to the Magistrate. It meant he hadn't recently murdered his mother very much; a little white lie intended to get him off the hook and back to the ship where the matter could be dealt with properly. Mother began to dig, and I told her about the curry and the resultant dirty nappy, and the rat, and finally the cot. Mum creased with laughter at the mention of the cot, and said that she had to see this straight away.

We tip-toed into the nursery. In the light from the landing I could see Amelia sprawled on her tummy amidst a mane of curls, bedclothes rolled down to her legs, one knee bent, nightie rucked up over the bulging seat of her pants, and fast, fast asleep. Mum stood there smiling, and gently shaking her head in disbelief. Then she reached down and slipped a finger inside the leg elastic of Amelia's baby pants, checking her nappy for wetness. Amelia stirred, and Mum promptly withdrew. I tiptoed back out, and thus was unable to stop Mum from quietly raising the side of the cot. Never mind. I would "pot" Amelia later anyway. We retired to the lounge, where a second bottle of the Widow went to an icy suttee, and it was decided that Mum and Dad would occupy the master bedroom that night rather than risk a tired and tipsy drive home.

Dad was telling Peter of all the derring-do of sailing back from Ostend, close hauled under a fresh northerly, running lee rail under the whole way and making record time, when a small pink and white figure joined the group.

"What are you doing out of bed?" demanded Mum.

"Wanted the toilet." came the sleepy reply. "Juliet had put the side up. Promised not to!" A slight background noise of a cistern refilling, and an edge of towelling peeking out from the leg of her pants testified to the successful completion of her mission. Mum fielded the sleepy child into her lap, tucking in the errant piece of nappy out of sheer habit, whereupon Amelia took the chance to remove Mum's glass from the table and tried to take a swig. Mum was just a trifle too fast for her, but taking the hint, I went and poured a glass of orange juice for Amelia, and, before Dad could protest, added a small tot of champagne. Mum raised an eyebrow, but I winked at her and gave the glass to Amelia, who relished it. I felt I owed her something for the side of the cot having been raised despite my promise, and that way I could be sure she would not stay awake for very long. She didn't, and Dad carried her up to bed shortly afterwards. This time I made sure that the side of the cot was left down. I quietly revelled in taking Peter to bed in front of my parents without a shred of embarrassment. He was mine now.

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Going Solo

Came the morning, and Amelia was dry; she had managed her hat trick, and was suitably congratulated. After breakfast I packed her clothes and carried her bag down to the car and we said our goodbyes. We waved them goodbye and watched until their car had left the drive, then I closed the big front door of Pembroke and the silence hit me like a leaden mace. No jingle of Asbo's medallion, no footsteps of Amelia bound on some errand or mischief, not even a sound from the radio, or the drip of a tap. Without the susurration of busy people, the big house was as empty as a drum, and for the first time I felt the loneliness of which Gran had complained, all those years when Granpa had been at sea and she had felt so lonely, a husk of a mother in the husk of a house. I understood now why she had kept the nursery unchanged long after its purpose had gone.

For a moment I looked far into the future to my own old age. Then Peter's hands slid around me from behind, and cupped my breasts, he kissed me at the base of my neck and growled deeply. There would be time to think of such things later, much later, but for now there was lots of unfinished business to attend to. I wriggled out of Peter's arms with a little scream and ran upstairs, a tender maid being pursued by a monstrous ape-man, managing to stay clear of his swinging arms until I was cornered in the second bedroom - I mean where else would an innocent young girl run to for safety? - and was promptly upended, stripped of my clothes and ravished to my utter ruin. I think that at that exact moment the rest of my family would have been stuck in a traffic jam on the way home.

In the next few days we made love in many strange places, even in the nursery on one long, wet afternoon where I discovered that the frilly pants still fitted - just - and we indulged in some very silly role-play. I am amazed that the old cot withstood it, and I expect that will be the last time I ever wear a nappy, but then... maybe not....

The rest of the time passed most pleasantly, in eating and walking, and pubbing, and in all the usual things, but I actually missed Amelia and Asbo, and all the ructions that went with them. Peter and I actually made love once al fresco in the suntrap below the terrace wall in the garden, and on the old rug, sort of bringing things in a full circle, and it seemed almost too soon that Gran and Granpa returned to claim their house, and the Navy reclaimed Peter.

Yes, I know, it's getting late, and I must be murdering Dad's phone bill, anyway Peter has started his flying course. I've been a bit worried about him, but he called today in great excitement and told me they had sent him off solo. He was very thrilled about it, and told me all the details at great length. Apparently the instructor didn't give him any warning, just climbed out of his seat, refastened the straps, and told Peter to go off and fly a circuit. No fuss, no time to get nervous, no time for second thoughts, and so Peter went off and did just that. I could hear the sound of the party going on in the background - apparently three or four of them went solo today, and so they all had to celebrate.

As it happened I was looking after Amelia while Mum and Dad were at a company do. Amelia's been drying up fast, and its three weeks since she was last wet, and Mum said she would try letting her go without nappies any time soon. After Peter rang I went back to Amelia who was sitting on the changing table waiting for me, dressed in her pyjama top, with a disposable nappy and her pyjama bottoms laid out beside her. I picked up the nappy, and then a thought struck me. I turned it over in my mind and decided to go for it. I looked Amelia in the eye and said, very softly, "Do you want to try a night without one?" After a moment she smiled and nodded. I put the nappy down, picked up her pyjama bottoms, and slipped them on her. It was the first time she'd ever been to bed without a nappy on, and she looked rather odd without the usual bulges.

I got her out of bed and made her use the toilet before Mum and Dad came back, and Mum discovered my gamble when she made her normal nappy check, but I convinced her to back my judgement. Mum was a bit annoyed; she said she had been looking forward to performing that little ceremony herself, and she hoped Amelia's self-confidence wouldn't be damaged if she wet the bed and had to be put back into nappies, and perhaps she had better pop one on to her, just in case. Something inside me boiled. I wasn't going to have Amelia's fragile self-confidence destroyed on a whim. I said that if Amelia ever had to wear nappies again, then so would I, out of solidarity. We faced each other down silently, and I noticed that Mum was swaying slightly, and smelt of drink. She broke first, and said, if the bed was wet, I would have to do the washing, and I myself would have the job of telling Amelia she would have to go back into nappies. I agreed, and we closed the matter. I knew I had done it the best way; Mum would have lectured Amelia soundly for ten minutes before letting her try her first night unprotected, and would have reduced her to a nervous wreck; then Amelia would have wet herself in the night.

I woke this morning to a wild kiss from Amelia. She'd stayed dry. She'd passed another milestone, and so I won't have to wear a nappy tonight either, for which I'm duly grateful.

It will be my last night here, anyway. I'm off to Uni tomorrow, and while I'm looking forward to it, and I know I'll be back at Christmas, or possibly before, but I know it won't be quite the same person returning. It wasn't the same person who came back from Goa, and it certainly wasn't the same person who came back from Pembroke. (I'm just so glad I haven't missed my period after all that!) I'm changing again, and childhood is slipping behind me, as it's slipping behind Amelia. I hope Mum and Dad don't suddenly feel older too, after all, they still have Amelia, and she can still be a handful. It's going to be difficult keeping it going with Peter, as I'll be in a hall of residence and he is certainly not allowed to have girls in his room, but we'll work something out. I know that if I'm to be a Navy wife, I'll have to get used to us being separated for long periods, but Gran has told me all about it, and has steeled my resolution. I am certainly not going to play the wimp on him. Mum's worried about me, but at least Aunt Emma and her family live nearby, so I'll have someone to turn to if something goes wrong.

I really must go now, but I'll let you know how Uni is going. Bye now!

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