Phone Conversation

[freswith]

The Sleep-Over

It was always something I had tried to avoid.  Not that my two were antisocial; they loved company, but the thought of them going to bed with other children was horrifying.  My two wet themselves almost every night, and I had  had some experience of how other children would react to the necessary precautions.  When I was at school, and suffering from the same problem,  the secret had got out and I was ragged and bullied endlessly, and I think I only survived because I was tall and athletic;  a hockey stick in the wrong place can be very persuasive.  

Now things were a bit different.  I had promised to keep in touch with Jeri and Cassie, as my twins had got on very well with Cassie after they found she suffered from the same problem, and I found Jeri was excellent company; it's nice to have friends outside the modelling business - they are less inclined to expect favours.

Now, here at last was an opportunity to give the girls a treat.  My niece Sally was staying with us, while her mother Juliet had gone to meet Peter in Gibraltar where he was giving his crew a run ashore after a long stint in the Gulf.  While Sally had recently become dry at nights, she was "in the know" about the problem and wouldn't cause trouble.  She was a sensible child and hopefully could be relied on to keep the other girls in check while leading them in a bit of mischief.  I was very fond of Sally; she was a caring child who actually considered other children's feelings, and I was happy that she was staying.

Just lately, things had been looking up.  There had been some dry mornings, and I had started to reward them with a lollipop.  Liz and Kate had been saving the sticks, and lined them up on the pinboard in their bedroom where they looked like a row of teeth, snarling at me for keeping the girls nappied.  In my defence, I pointed out that there should be gaps in the row of teeth to show where the morning nappy check had shown the problem to be continuing, although I had to concede there were an increasing number of dry mornings.  I was happy to buy more lollipops; they were cheaper than disposable nappies and telling the girls to clean their teeth afterwards was easier than washing all-in-ones.

I hoped I had thought of everything.  There were the extra beds, games, and sweets, torches, our long-suffering collie dog, a teepee in the corner of the bedroom, the toy shelves were well-stacked and remarkably tidy for once.  All was ready.  Except for THAT.

That was the changing table.  In truth, although it was much larger than the normal table, it was rarely used now; The girls had got much bigger and tended to overlap the table at the foot end. At least that made it easier to put the plastic pants onto them, but it was a bit unpopular.  I normally nappied the girls on their beds, or on rare occasions stood by while they nappied themselves;  that was a rare event, and took a lot of patience, as they worked hard to exploit every chance to distract and delay the process.  It normally resulted in me taking over end doing the job myself - so much smaller chance of any leaks.  Now I looked at the table and wondered how it would appear to Cassie - as a convenience or as a scaffold?  The padded top was removable, and there were curtains which could be drawn across the shelves of nappies and pants, and the accessory drawer wasn't a problem, but the steps remained and it still looked like a big changing table.  I did what I could to tidy it up.

Just then the doorbell rang and I checked my watch.  Our guests had arrived, and dammit, they were early!  Sally went to answer the door for me and Jeri and Cassie came in, both carrying small overnight bags, but Jeri was carrying a larger bag made of a waterproof material.  I didn't need to ask what it was for.  Liz and Kate promptly took Cassie upstairs and their celebrations began.  It was the first time that a stranger had been allowed into this inner sanctum, and the twins were making the best of it.  The doll's house was opened and the floor became strewn with toys.  The changing table remained unmolested and uncommented, which was a sizeable relief.  I went to the kitchens with Jeri and we nattered while making tea.

I could delay it no longer.  We were way past normal bedtime and I had finally got Liz and Kate out of the bathroom. We looked at each other.  Convention required the ceremony of the Night Nappy at this point and we all knew it.  I looked at the girls and said "Who's first?".  (Nothing like closing on a minor point!) and all three girls took a step backwards with a precision that would have pleased the most fastidious drill sergeant.   I looked at Jeri, and Jeri looked at me.  This was going to be a tough one. Both of us took a step forward.
"But, Mum...." Liz started,
"We don't really need them now, you know," Kate continued.
"Can't we just try a night without them?" chimed in Cassie.
I was just contemplating the prospect of three wet beds when Sally came out of the bathroom.  She saw the confrontation, and instantly guessed the cause.  "Oh Dear!" she said, and then stepped forward.  "Can I be the first, then?"
Jaws dropped all round with a series of clicks. Finally I managed: "But Sally, dear, I thought you were dry at night?" 
"Yes, I am," she replied, "But I would like to wear a nappy tonight, if I may.  I don't want to be the odd one out, and besides I could still wet the bed - even though Mum told me I could never do it again."  She turned to me and winked.  I got the message.  My opinion of Sally went up about three more notches; she was very much the leader of the gang, and was using that position to help me.  I had to respond positively.  
"Yes of course you can Sally, how sensible of you!" I replied, "What kind would you like?"  and I gestured towards the changing table.  

Sally stepped forward and examined the quite extensive range.  "Hmm," she murmured, "Can I try one of the big towelling ones.  I haven't had one of those in years, and they're so comfortable!  And if I don't wet, it won't need washing, will it?"
I agreed with her, selected one of the larger ones, and kite-folded it on the table into what I judged would be the correct size.  She sloughed off her dressing gown, then her pyjama trousers, mounted the steps to the table and sat down on the folded nappy.  It was evident that time had moved on with her, and she was starting to get her curves.
"Would you like some ointment, dear?" I asked, still not quite believing what was happening.
"Yes please!" she replied, leaning back and it sounded almost too convincing.  I kept my thoughts to myself,  took a dollop of ointment from the jar, and then, after a moment's hesitation, spread it around the relevant area.  I could see that Sally was actually quite enjoying it.  Much had obviously changed since the last time I had done this to her.  She spread her legs and I brought the front of the nappy up between them to protect whatever was left of her modesty, and one by one brought the sides around and pinned them.  She sat up on the edge of the table and offered her legs. I thought it best to continue the charade. 
"What kind of pants would you like dear?" I said like a valet, "We've got pink and white and..."
"Can I try those frilly ones?" she replied, "I think they might just be big enough?"
I reached down to the bottom shelf where the normally-despised garment was folded, and shook them out.  I put my hands through the leg-holes, took her feet, and slipped them over, just like I used to do when my daughters were babies.  Sally slipped down off the table, and I pulled her pants up over the spotless nappy to her waist, tucking in the loose bits as necessary before she reached down and tucked the leg elastics up into her nappy.  "Stops leaks, if I remember." she said, giving me a wink.
I turned to see three pairs of wide eyes, and Jeri's were even wider.  Triumph!  "Right, Who's next?" I said, and Kate bravely pushed Liz forwards.  Within minutes all four girls were safely nappied and cast off to play, nominally to go to bed.  Jeri and I returned to the lounge to partake of a glass of wine each and celebrate our unlikely victory.

By the time we had drained the bottle the noise from the girl's room had abated, and we went up to survey the wreckage. Kate, Liz and Cassie were all in the king-size bed, wrapped around each other.  I checked their nappies and adjusted the bedclothes to protect them against the cool of the early hours, and turned my attention toward Sally who had occupied the smaller bed in the corner.  She was fast asleep, lying on her tummy with one leg bent, presumably to accommodate the bulk of towelling in her crotch. I was quite surprised she was still wearing it - she had made her point, and the need was over. Then I thought again, remembered the amount of fizzy drink the girls had put away and the late bedtime of the over-tired children; what had started as a bit of virtue-posturing might well end up as a necessary precaution. With that in mind I slipped a finger into her pants at the back, and was pleased that her nappy was still dry.  I tucked a bit of towelling back under the waistband of her slightly-too-small baby pants, pulled the duvet back over her, and slipped out quietly.

As I wandered - somewhat unsteadily - back downstairs, I mused on Sally's unusual choice.  Then my own memories came back to me.  The first months of being out of nappies at night, the worry that I might relapse and wet the bed, of sleeping with one eye open, and of missing that feeling, that feeling of safety and security, the knowledge that I could wet my nappy and not be scolded because it was expected of me, that I would be wet in the morning come what may.  The number of times I had had to get out of my warm bed to go to the cold toilet in the small hours as against the simple pleasure of just letting go and sleeping on.  Then I saw Sally's point of view.  Sally, dumped on Aunt Amelia while her parents enjoyed a run ashore, was having her own run ashore.  I wasn't going to stop her.  If Sally was wet in the morning, as I expected she would be, then she could be in nappies every night for the rest of her stay.
 

[jen1234]

thank you for continuing the story

[warpiper]

Yay! Another wonderful update! Thank you Freswith!

[Bluebird67]

Yes, many thanks for keeping this wonderful saga going.

[fyunch]

This is the best story.  Thanks, Freswith.

[freswith]

Sally's Secret. 

My forecast was correct; the following morning all four girls had wet their nappies, and Sally in particular was well soaked.  Of course, no remarks were made, the humiliation was far too great already.  Sally, the eldest and supposed to be dry, got silent sympathy and a kiss. Cassie got nothing more than a cluck from her mother.  The three younger girls bounced off, made brief visits to the bathroom, and began to dress.  Sally was very downcast and followed them slowly.  I realised I had a problem there; I had to bring Sally round, so I waited until after breakfast when Jeri and Cassie had taken their leave, Matt was mowing the lawn, and my two were running riot again in the garden.  Sally came to me, and apologised for "making a fool of herself" last night.  I forgave her instantly and thanked her for resolving a difficult situation. She still looked troubled.  "What's the matter, pet?"
"They dumped me!" she said almost in tears. "I wanted to go to Gibraltar and meet Dad, but Mum said she wanted to be together with him alone."

Ah! I had got to the bottom of it.  Sally, so grown up in some ways, hadn't reached that Rubicon, hadn't felt that imperative tingle, and had no idea of how a sailor and his wife might feel after months of separation.  She didn't realise that the presence of a twelve-year-old might put a damper on such things.  I tried very carefully to explain.
"You mean  they're doing it?" she said, with a curl of her lip.
"Yes dear. Grown up people..." I replied, "Man and wife..." I added carefully, "still do it."
Sally looked up, "Is that why they dumped me?" she said, still obviously hurting.
"They didn't dump you, pet, they sent you here where you are loved just as much, and where you have your cousins to play with.  Just for a few days while they rebuild their relationship, a bit like a second honeymoon."  Then a moment's thought...  "It's a part of growing up, you know, becoming independent, having your own life, your own friends.  You've reached that stage."  I noted again the trainer bra and the incipient curves.  I remembered what it is like to be the youngest of the family, to be trailed along behind a much older sister and parents, being on my own and, with that same old problem, rather isolated.

"I'm still sorry I wet my nappy last night" she said again.  I breathed a silent sigh of relief.  My message had certainly gone home, and we were back to trivia.
"Better than a wet bed, that's what your nappy was for." I replied, using the ancient mantra, "You had a lot to drink, and were in a strange bed in a strange place, and had a very late night.  Not surprising you wet - I would have been too, at your age. What a good thing you had a nappy on."  Sally looked up. Another point had gone home.
"Mum will be so angry" she said.
"I won't tell your mum! I replied.  Not least, I thought, because Juliet would blame me for regressing her daughter after so much work and effort had been made to get Sally dry at night.  "It'll be our secret!"
"Will I have to wear one tonight?"
I sucked my teeth for a moment. I thought of the times I had worn nappies, both before and after I had been declared "dry". I thought of the feeling of safety they gave, the chance to relax from the ceaseless vigilance, the fear of that sudden demand, the need to use the toilet urgently at the smallest symptom.  I thought of the intimacy I had enjoyed with my mother when she was changing me, how it was the only time of the day when I had her exclusive attention, and I remembered the loss I felt when I was finally allowed to go to bed on my own without that familiar caring ritual. I thought of the warmth, of the padding, and of... the thrill of doing something naughty and how I might be found out. I would have to approach this one with extra care.  Very softly I asked: "Did you actually like wearing one last night?"  Then a long pause.  Sally looked up, her cheeks reddened slightly, the corners of her mouth twitched into a tiny smile, and she gave a timid nod.  I returned it with a grin.  This was communication above mere words.  "I used to enjoy it too!" I confessed.  "Would you like to wear one tonight?"
"Mum wouldn't like it. She'd be angry if she knew."
"She doesn't have to know.  I won't tell her."  It needed one more thing.  The sense of compulsion.    Sometimes it's better to have difficult decision made for you; it save a lot of angst, and allows a denial of responsibility. "I think Wicked Aunt Amelia is going to have to insist." I growled, "You're back into nappies at night, Sally, while you are here.  I'll put them on you after you've had your bath - like it or not!"  Sally grinned.  "Oh dear!" was all she said.

The day was hot and long, and full of activity.  I didn't have much time to muse about my decision, or my treatment of Sally.  I had my reservations; to give encouragement to a child at the age of sexual awakening risked imprinting her with a false view of such delights - a fetish, in other words.  Just like mine.  It wouldn't be fair to exercise my fetish on a young and impressionable girl.  Then again, I remembered how I had had a crush on Peter, and how he had changed my nappies on a number of occasions, and once insisted I wore them quite unnecessarily, and in public too.  The memory gave me a pleasurable frisson.  I did not know if I should thank Peter, or blame him for my fetish, but doing the same to his daughter had a certain touch of justice to it. Still I resolved not to push the matter, to dismiss it as a joke - better that both Sally and I tried to forget about it.

All went according to plan until evening.  I declared bath-time at the appropriate moment, and the twins reluctantly dropped their toys and headed for the bathroom.  To my surprise they were beaten to it by Sally, and they cheerfully allowed her to go first while they extended their playtime.  Eventually she re-emerged in her dressing gown and I chivvied Kate and Liz into the bathroom.  I left them to it, but when I returned I found Sally standing obediently beside the changing table.  I approached her slowly, giving her plenty of opportunity to back out,  She remained standing there, arms folded, head down, biting her lip.  I waited for a moment; I was sure I knew what she was thinking, but I wanted it to be her own decision.  Eventually she looked up
"Well?" I said, pretending to have forgotten my threat (or promise) of the morning.
"Can I have my nappy on now, please." came the prompt reply.
A pause.  "Are you sure you want this?" I said.
She nodded.  "I don't want a wet bed." she said, "And you said I was back in nappies anyway.  I would just like to get it done while the other two are in there."

I paused for a moment.  I was hoist by my own petard.  If this was to be done, then best it were done well; I would take my time over it, do it thoroughly, and let Sally savour each moment.  I went over to the airing cupboard, and took out the one of the larger terry squares,  and slowly kite-folded it, carefully adjusting size and smoothing the folds. It was still warm from the cupboard.  I thought that if I made the nappy a bit less comfortable it might put her off repeating the experience, so I took one of the small baby-nappies from the bottom shelf and folded it into a soaker on top of the  big nappy - she had certainly wet her nappy very thoroughly last night, and it was a necessary precaution.  Then, as a final refinement I added a paper liner, although I knew the chances of getting a dirty nappy were remote; however, it looked the part and would keep the wetness away from her skin.  I patted the middle of the stack of nappies and said "Up here then!"  

Obediently Sally took off her dressing gown, climbed the steps of the changing table and positioned herself in the middle of the nappies and leaned back. After a moment's thought I opened the ointment pot, took a big scoop, and spread it between her legs in the area most vulnerable to rashes.  Then I covered her with a cloud of sweet-scented powder; she was going to get the full works tonight.  Sally just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to cover her modesty with her hands, until I put my hand down between her clenched legs to reach the front of her nappy which she gratefully seized  with both hands and, spreading her legs, drew it up until it reached her navel.  That gave me the opportunity to take a large nappy pin from the bar of soap, bring the sides round to cross them over and pin them to the front, being careful not to prick her, then clicking the head down to lock the pin.  Sally remained lying down, staring at the ceiling, but now she was smiling slightly.  She looked down and started to run her fingers slowly across the soft towelling of her nappy, and gently stroked the pin.  It was a new nappy, and very white and fluffy and, with the baby-nappy soaker inside, it bulked out and spread her legs widely. It was normally forbidden to play with your nappy, or even to touch it, but I didn't stop her;  I, too, was reliving the sensation of having my night-nappy put on, the intimacy, the care, the attention, and for a moment I envied her.

She made no attempt to sit up, so I pulled a pair of plain white plastic pants out of the shelves, put my thumbs through the leg-holes and scrunched them up.  Sally obediently lifted her feet and I slipped the pants over them and up her legs. As they reached her thighs she lifted her bottom and I slid the waistband up under her nappy - just like it used to be done when the girls were very little.  I tucked the leg elastics up into her nappy, to prevent leaks, and also to give her the authentic baby look.  Finally I took her hands and stood her up. She staggered for a moment, surprised at the sheer bulk of her nappies, but made no comment.  I checked the waist elastics all round and behind her, and tucked an errant piece of the paper nappy liner inside the waistband.  Sally stared down at her baby pants, and ran her hands over the smooth plastic before slipping her fingers under the leg elastics and making a small adjustment.   I gave her a pat on her thickly-padded bottom. "Do you like it?" I asked.
"Yeah!" she said, her grin widening, "It feels really good!"
"Now it's on 'til morning.  No taking it off. Doesn't matter if you wet it - that's what it's for. You have a Baby's Licence which means you won't be punished or scolded for wetting it, but you'll be spanked if you take it off in the night, and spanked very hard if you then wet the bed.  Those are the Nappy Rules, and you are now officially 'In Nappies'. Understand?"  I've never had to spank a child yet and I hope I never have to, but the injunction was usually strong enough to keep nappies on, even with Kate and Liz.  I don't think the threat was needed with Sally - it was apparent she really liked wearing nappies, but the injunction was a part of the ritual.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes Aunty, I understand.  I'll be good, and keep them on. I don't want to wet the bed and I certainly don't want to be spanked.  Do I have to wear them tomorrow as well?" She looked at me hopefully.  It was almost as if she had said: "I would like to wear them in the day as well."
"Not in the day - but if you're wet tomorrow morning, you certainly will tomorrow night."  As soon as I said it I regretted it; I meant it to be a threat, but then I realised Sally would see it as an opportunity.

I passed her the  pale pink smock top of her pyjamas and she lifted her arms for me to put it on her.  It barely reached her pants, but as I tried to fit the bottoms over the bulk of her nappy it was plain they weren't going to fit.  "Never mind," I said, "In this heat you won't need them," then in a flash of mischief I added: "Besides, it'll make it easier to change you when (not "if"!) you're wet."  A look of slight dismay crossed her face. "I'll be checking you in the night, of course." I added gleefully, though the mass of towelling pinned around her would have lasted a weekend.

The sounds from the bathroom heralded the return of Liz and Kate. I really didn't want them to see Sally in that state so I told her to go down stairs and wish Uncle Matt goodnight - and she could stay up another hour in recognition of her seniority.   She agreed and waddled out of the door as best she could, the well-rounded bottom of her plastic pants wobbling under her smock top. I had a brief worry of her on the stairs, but before I could do anything, Liz and Kate came out of the bathroom chattering.
"Where's Sally?" Liz asked.  Kate walked over to the changing table and ran her finger along the talcum powder residue.
"Has she been done, then?" she asked gleefully, "I'd have liked to have seen that!  Did she struggle?  Did she wriggle?"  
Liz demonstrated how a baby would wriggle.  She did a fair job of it; she had had plenty of practise over the years. "She was really wet this morning."
"Never you mind what she did in her nappy - it doesn't matter as long as it wasn't in her bed.  She's downstairs with Daddy." I replied. "She'll be back later, but you have to get to bed."
"But she's supposed to be dry," said Kate, "and out of nappies."
"We're nearly dry" exclaimed Liz,  "Look at all the sticks along the shelf.  We shouldn't be in nappies any longer."
"You're in nappies now - and until I say otherwise." I reminded her, "Now come here and get yours on!"  I pulled another terry nappy out of the shelf.
"Oh No! Not those!" Liz protested, "They're so...babyish!"  

I wasn't having it. My little holiday of nappying a cooperative child had certainly ended, and it was back to business as usual.  Disposables cost, not just the price but the environment, and there was always the possibility that some wretched journalist would go through our bin looking for dirt on us, so I normally only used them on the girls for travel.  All-in-ones leaked; only terry nappies did the  job for night use.  Admittedly we ended up with a washing line full of them, but our back garden was very private.  I folded the nappy and patted it. "Come on, Kate" I said, "Put your bottom here! No nonsense now!" and with the greatest reluctance Kate climbed the steps, unbelted her dressing gown and flipped it up, before sitting on the proffered nappy.  A dollop of ointment, a cloud of talc, two pins, plastic pants, a pat on the bottom, a hug and a kiss and she was done.  She dropped her dressing gown and waddled across the floor in just her nappy and pants to get her pyjamas.  Devoid of excuses, Liz followed her onto the table.  I was not in the mood to linger and soon had them in bed with the curtains drawn.  "Sally will be up shortly, when it's her bedtime."  I said, and closed the door behind me.

I found Sally in the garden with Matt, walking barefoot in the newly-mown grass and enjoying the cool of the evening.  One of the priorities for a model is that the garden is private, and ours was surrounded by tall hedges to keep the paparazzi away, so there was no nosey neighbour to see her, and she could walk, or at least waddle, around the garden and sample the scent of the flowerbeds in privacy. Her nappy had relented its fearsome grip and had drooped a little at the back, so she was walking more normally now, but she was still well padded out in a sensible nappy.  I hoped this had met her requirement for this evening, and the large glass of orange juice that Matt had given her left me in no doubt that the precaution was a wise one; normally at that stage the rule was no drinks after six o'clock to prevent a wet bed after midnight, but as long as she was in nappies that rule could be relaxed.  I slipped off my shoes and joined them, giving Sally's drooping nappy a necessary hitch at the back. Then we walked barefoot in the cool, moist grass, Matt and I hand in hand with Sally, and guiding her towards the night-scented stock that was doing its best to attract our attention.

[fyunch]

I do love this story.

[jen1234]

Love this story, I can't wait for Amelia to start wearing again

 

[warpiper]

Another so soon! What a treat!

[freswith]

The Return Home.

Juliet was due home that afternoon, and we were preparing to take Sally back to her mother.  The journey not entirely straightforward; Juliet lived on the far side of London and the route was a bit convoluted, including the dreadful turgid parking lot that is the M25 motorway.  Getting there could take an hour...or two...or three.  No service areas - an oversight when it was constructed, and there was just nowhere to go if nature called.
"It's a nappy trip, I'm afraid, girls."  
Groans and "Aaawww, Mu-ums!"  
"Fraid so."
"Does that include me?" said Sally.  I looked at her.  She looked back at me.  She was wanting something, but I wasn't sure what it was.
"That's up to you, Sally." I replied, neatly dodging the issue.  Sally had actually asked if she could go back to wearing nappies at night, a request that was difficult to refuse.  I had really felt for her, as I remembered the first few months of doing without them all too well, and I let her have her way.  The result had been five straight nights of being wet - and not just a little bit - Sally had appeared to enjoy soaking her nappies every night.  I had hoped that the presence of a dry Sally would inspire my outrageous daughters to try a bit harder to get dry, but it had worked the other way.  Now she was suggesting wearing a nappy in the daytime, and going home to her mother thus attired.  I could see an explosion coming.

I checked my two girls were still wearing their nappies before we left, lifting their skirts and making sure those bottoms were properly padded.  I looked at Sally, but didn't humiliate her with a check.  I didn't need to; she was wearing jeans and I could see that she was going without.  So be it.

The M25 lived up to its reputation; it was crammed with slow moving traffic and I kept my temper with the greatest difficulty.  By the time we passed Heathrow, the pleas of "Are we there yet" had started.  By the time we got to the exit road they had, ominously, stopped.   I knew the pattern.  I just hoped the nappies had done their job and there were no leaks.  I glanced sideways at Sally.  She too was very quiet, and biting her lip, her hands squeezed between her legs.  I did my best, and pressed on as hard as I could.  

We reached Peter's and Juliet's house about an hour late.  The door was opened by a surprised Holly, Juliet's elder daughter, now a student in London. Behind her loomed the presence of her boyfriend, a callow youth just finishing a master's degree in arrogance. We went in.  My business was now urgent too, but in the rush to the toilet I deferred to Sally; her need was even greater than mine.  Then I looked again.  It was too late, and the wetness was spreading down between her legs.  I have never seen anyone look so crestfallen. Kate and Liz drew close to her, and wrapped her in their arms in a sign of sodden solidarity.  Only Holly seemed unmoved, and stood there with arms akimbo, clucking gently at her little sister.  "You should have made her wear a nappy." she accused me, "Mum always does."
My blood boiled. "Like I used to put your nappies on you, Holly, when you were her age, and you never failed to wet them!"  Holly bit her lip and backed off,  into the arms of her grinning boyfriend.  It had not gone well.

I followed Sally upstairs.  I thought it better not to leave her alone at that moment.  I sent Liz out to fetch the changing bag from the back of our car, and told Kate to fetch Sally's bag at the same time.  I comforted Sally and nudged her into the toilet to clean herself up.  Then I started to change my girls into fresh nappies from the stock in the bag, being careful not to chide them or make pointless comments, either of which would just have made it more difficult to persuade them to wear nappies on the next trip.  By the time I was done Sally had come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, bearing her wet jeans and underpants to put them in the basket.   Then she came over to me, took a disposable nappy from the bag, gave it to me and said; "Would you mind, Aunty? I'm not really much good at it and they always leak."  Sadly, and in silence, I complied.  Then I hugged her tight and felt her tears dampen my shoulder.

Holly reappeared, looking a little bit chastened, and told me that Juliet had been delayed, the aircraft had "gone techie" on the apron at Gibraltar and she would be a few hours late.  In contrition she took Sally, and gave her a hug and a kiss.  Sally stopped crying and snuffled a little, gradually regaining her composure.  She took a little yellow sundress from the wardrobe and put it on.  The skirt was long enough to conceal her nappy, but only just.  The danger and the indignity past, Sally began to cheer up a little and we repaired downstairs to await Juliet.

I had just realised that it might have been advantageous to be somewhere else when Juliet returned to find her youngest child wearing a nappy when the taxi arrived, and we all turned out to greet her.  Sally took a place at the end of the line, and half a pace backward, but it didn't stop Juliet doing something of a double-take when she saw the distinctive bulge of a nappy under her dress.  Juliet said nothing, but there would obviously be a board of enquiry later and I mentally shuffled my cards to deal with it.

Juliet waited until after tea when the children were playing in the garden, and Holly was off somewhere canoodling with her boyfriend.  Then the questions started.  Why was Sally wearing a nappy, had she been wetting the bed, had she been having accidents, had there been any tantrums and so on.  There is nothing more dangerous than the whole truth about anything, so I was very guarded in my replies.  No, she hadn't wet the bed at all.  I didn't say it was because she had been very well padded-out at night, and had wet her nappies quite freely, because that would have caused an explosion of further questions. Thank heaven for plastic pants!  I said how good she had been, and how lovely it was to have her, and how the only accident she had had was due to the terrible traffic jams we had gone through on the M25.  Thankfully my experiences as a model had taught me how to lie effectively, and use body language to reinforce my words, but I am not sure that Juliet bought my story completely; she knew me much too well.  I had told her that I had put Sally in her nappy, and she had kept it on as an act of contrition, which was almost true.  Either way, Juliet bought my story whether she believed it or not.  It plainly suited her not to arrive home to a family row.

Juliet called Sally in from the garden.  The child came in slowly, obviously in trepidation about what her mother wanted.  Juliet turned to her and asked her how her stay had gone.  Sally said she enjoyed it very much, the Juliet asked her if she had been dry.  Sally blushed, then looked at me where I sat behind Juliet.  I nodded desperately.  Sally said that she had.  Then Juliet dropped the bombshell and asked her why she was wearing a nappy now. Sally, sweet as a nut, told her that she didn't want to be left out when my two girls were put in nappies as it made them embarrassed and jealous.  It was a great answer. It was true, too.  At least half of it, but then half-truths are better in arguments because, like half-bricks, they carry further.

Juliet smiled, turned towards me and gave me surreptitious wink - it was apparent she didn't believe a word of it, but couldn't prove it wasn't true - then she turned back to Sally.  "You are getting just like your aunt, you know." And followed that beautifully double-edged compliment with her judgement: "Well, Sally, you had better stay dry tonight, because as far as I am concerned, this is the last time you will ever wear a nappy."  Sally looked a little less than happy, but there wasn't much she could say.

Tea over, I herded my daughters back into the car.  They were carefully instructed to use the toilet (thank heaven for resealable tapes!) checked, and strapped into the back.  Sally came out to wish them goodbye; she was still wearing her nappy, the tail of it protruding beneath her sundress as she bent to speak through the car window.  I overheard Liz whisper to her "Never mind! You can wear whatever you like when you come to us!" and I pretended I didn't hear it. 

The drive back was just as appalling as the drive down had been, and it was no surprise that they needed changing again when they got back.

 
 

[D503]

Lovely follow-up. Feels like an awakening for Sally, but she'll have to be careful or at least, schneaky.

[vvp39]

I'm glad to have caught up again on this enjoyable tale!

[jen1234]

thank you for continuing to update this story. I suspect that sooner or later mom will be back in diapers.

[warpiper]

I can't wait for an update! We miss you freswith!

[freswith]

Claire's Day

I never refused an invitation to Pembroke, and this one was a bit special; it was Aunty Claire's fiftieth birthday, and a family gathering had been arranged.  I cheerfully announced the news to my twins, and was met with a very mixed response. 
"Does that mean..." said Kate.
"....Pembroke Rules?" completed Liz.

I had to think for a moment.  Both were now dry during the day - except for the occasional small accident - and went unprotected to school on the strict understanding that they went between each lesson.  The journey to Pembroke was usually under the hour, and they could manage to stay dry as long as there wasn't a traffic jam; that could cause problems.  However, the tradition of Pembroke Rules still held firm.  I had been subjected to it up to the age of eleven, and sister Juliet until she was thirteen.  My two were not far short of ten, but still a long way short on bladder control.  I had to think of the expensive carpets and furnishings in Pembroke, and Aunty Claire's manic house-pride.  I sucked my teeth for a moment, and then gave Judgement.
"Pembroke Rules," I said, "but pull-ups.  Even then, you've got to be very careful!", and I made a mental note to tell them to take the changing bag.

The journey up was without incident, and we arrived to see Juliet and Sally had already arrived, along with Vickie and Simon with their children Caroline and Nicholas.  Peter was with them, driving a smaller vessel than usual, and Holly busy at university with her Finals.  The children greeted each other cheerfully and began a wild game of tag in the garden, while the adults enjoyed a glass of sherry. The conversation amongst us mothers devolved to the usual thing.

"No. we're not there yet, although they are improving.  They can manage school quite okay, but unless they are watched at home, there is sometimes the possibility of an accident.  They still wear at night, of course, but they're not always wet."  That was a bit of an understatement.  If we went to the park or out for a walk they were always protected, and although this was mostly just a precaution, there was always the likelihood of a crisis.  Juliet asked if they were in nappies now. "Pull-ups." I was able to reply.  I looked at Juliet and raised an eyebrow.  "How's Sally doing?" I asked, and although I knew the official answer, I wanted to pass the onus on to Juliet to reply.

Juliet sucked her teeth."Well, I thought we had licked it, but we still get the occasional relapse.  It's almost as if she likes to wear them.   She wanted a nappy on today, and I know it's a long drive with almost no service areas, but I said No."  She paused a moment. "...but then we settled on pull-ups."  I nodded sympathetically.  I knew Sally, and had a shrewd idea of her affection for nappies.  It never pays to underestimate the cunning of a child, particularly Sally, whose angelic appearance covered the stubbornness of a warrior.  

We both turned to Vickie who buried her nose into her sherry glass, a gambit which saved her a few moments.  "Caroline's mostly dry at night, but she wears those Underjams just in case,  Nicholas does the same, but mostly to stop him from teasing the life out Caroline.  He doesn't often wet.  I lost the argument for the drive up here, and we had an emergency, but fortunately we made it to a service area in time.  I made sure they both went as soon as we arrived."
 Lunch was served in due course, and the children were herded into the dining room under the stewardship of Claire's daughter Alice, who was now between school and university, and acting as Leading Child for the day, and apparently not too pleased with it.

There are some advantages to Pembroke Rules, for one thing I wouldn't have to chase my children to do to the toilet every damned hour, which can get tedious.  With that in mind I could relax.  Luncheon went very well, and the children were excused from their table after the third course and allowed to amuse themselves in the garden, after the mandatory toilet break.  The adults continued in their steady consumption until the port was passed, the Queen's health was drunk, Aunt Clare was toasted and the ladies retired to the drawing room.  Then the gossip really began and all the latest scandal was retailed and elaborated.  It wasn't until much later that I realised Alice was with us.  Well, no matter, she was nearly grown up now and able to understand the more salacious bits.  The it occurred to me that there was not enough noise coming from the garden, and a slight niggling doubt entered my mind.  I opened the French windows and walked out onto the terrace followed by Alice.  No sign of any children. Then there was a thumping noise from the old laundry building on the end of the terrace. As I walked along the memories came flooding back.  When I was small it was in very active use as a laundry, with big noisy old machines churning away washing my nappies.  And Juliet's nappies too; they were the big ones. There would be more nappies outside on the line, drying in full view of the neighbours, with two sizes of  plastic pants alongside.  Nobody could doubt their usage, and all the neighbours would know that the grandchildren were at home.

The laundry was separated from the house by a few yards, and was the older building.  It had originally been the kitchen for the big house, and separated by those yards to reduce the fire risk.  I clicked the Suffolk latch and pushed the ancient door open, and was struck by a familiar scent - it was Gran's perfume.  Suddenly I had memories of her dressing me for bed, standing me up, pulling my baby pants up over my nappy, and I would shift from foot to foot as she tucked in the elastics,  Then she would hold me close and hug me.  It was that smell which came back to me.  Suddenly I longed to be small again, and to have Gran around me again, to feel the soft, safe nappy, but all was gone in the gulf of years.

The children were inside doing something beside the huge chimney breast.  Sally was wielding a big piece of wood and hitting the breast.  The old plaster wouldn't stand much of that.  I told her "Enough!  Whatever are you doing."
"Looking for the treasure!" came the reply. The legend of Black Jack Sinclair's ill-gotten gains lingered on.
"Don't be silly!  It's just a legend! You'll get that plaster all over yourself!"
"But Mum! There's a hollow sound here!" protested Kate.
"Well there would be, wouldn't there, it's a chimney after all."
"But Mum..."
"Come away.  Have you used the toilet?"
No response.  Caroline nodded.  Sally said: "I'm dry!"  I looked at my two twins.  They were looking elsewhere, and beginning to redden.  I knew the signs all too well, and released a sigh.  
"Come over here, and let's see!" I commanded.  The girls dragged their feet, each trying to get behind the other.  I stepped forward and checked each in turn. Both were sodden and Liz's had actually leaked on to her skirt.
"Didn't want to miss it." she said. "It was such fun until you came."
"Oh, we'll have to do something before you are allowed back into the house.  Kate, go and get the changing bag, will you?"  
Kate didn't move.  "It's not there." she said, "We left it at home because we didn't think we'd need it.  It's so... babyish."

There was a brief silence while we all took in the implications.  Two small girls with saturated pull-ups, one with a wet dress. An hour or more from home as long as we left early and there were no traffic hold-ups.  I was livid; this was going to take some handling. I  asked Carolyn and  Sally, but they both replied that they had no spare pull-ups. In despair I turned round and met Alice, who had finally come to look after her charges.  
She shrugged. "The only thing I can think of is the big chest in the attic.  I haven't seen it open in years, but I think all of mine were put in there after I stopped..." she said, avoiding the explicit mention of what it was she had finally stopped doing.

We smuggled the twins up the back stairs and reached the attic without any further leaks or, worse still, having a couple of wet pull-ups subside onto the carpet.  The great big chest was still there where it had always been, its lid covered in dust.  It was full to the brim with all kinds of clothes, smelling slightly of camphor, but there were no disposable nappies there, or anything modern at all.  There were, however, lots of the old traditional terry nappies. in several sizes.  Expensive things, they had been stored for another generation.  Slightly further down there was a box containing safety pins, and at one end a cache of plastic pants.  It was all there.  There were even some muslin liners.  Right!  Now I would give them a lesson about leaving this vital things behind!  I took two of the largest nappies out passed them to Alice, and gave my attention to the plastic pants.  The elastic seemed to be in fair condition and I found a snap-on pair which looked like a good fit, so I gave them to Liz, who took them reluctantly, tried them against her waist, and sniffed contemptuously.  Delving further I came to a tissue-paper package, and looking inside, found a pair of the old-style frilly pants that looked sickeningly familiar.  I had worn them on family occasions over my nappy  and had hated them.   They would do nicely.  I gave them to Kate who was suitably horrified, but also fascinated.

I looked briefly around the chest before closing it, and a piece of pink cloth caught my eye.  I reached down and pulled, the piece became a strap, and on the end of the strap was the rest of the romper  I recognised it. Peter had once put it on me and I had hated that babyish thing too, but the fact that Peter had put it on me made me keep it on all day until bath time.

"What's that? said Liz leaning over, and I thought quickly.  I needed something for Liz to replace her wet skirt, and the romper would do it nicely.  It would be interesting to see if Peter recognised it, and I would be able to tease him.  I held it up on her front and replied "It's called a romper.  The pants go on over your nappy and the straps go over your shoulders and fasten to the bib.  It keeps your nappy from falling down -especially when it's wet."  
Liz's lip curled.   "It's for little babies.  Did you ever have to wear it?"
I hesitated.  "Well..."
It's got "Amelia" embroidered on the bib" piped up Kate.  Thank you Kate, I didn't need that.
"They are very comfortable, and saves you from having you mum keep having to hitch your nappy up.  Very practical too. Now come along." I said, retrieving the romper from my daughter.

Alice led the way down to the old nursery, where they had kept the big changing table. Kate and Liz followed, and I noticed that they were walking uncomfortably from the wetness of the pull-ups.  Well, I could fix the wetness, but they would be walking even more awkwardly when I put the bulky terries on them.  I stripped the pull-ups straight off them and herded them into the bathroom to clean themselves up and told them to make full use of the toilet.   I had had just about enough of toilet training for the day and determined that once I had got the girls into proper nappies they were going to stay in them, come what may, until bath time, so as to teach them the alternative to making regular trips to the loo.

Kate was the first to come out, and I led her to the changing table where the first of the nappies had been neatly folded and positioned together with a muslin liner, pins and the frilly pants.  She scowled at me, but I wasn't having it. She climbed the steps onto the table as though ascending the gallows. Before she sat down I peeled her leggings down to her ankles, but I didn't take them off.  It wasn't necessary, and it had one other advantage; I had learned that it would limit the child's ability to wriggle, to kick out or, worse still, to run away. It also made it easier to replace them after a change.  Kate decided to be cooperative, lifted her skirt and sat down onto the nappy with legs akimbo, and arms raised clear of her sides. There was still some powder in the drawers and I made full use of it, before lifting the side of the nappy up around her waist and positioning it precisely.  I then pulled the front of the kitefold up, almost to her navel, and bought each side around in turn to pin them to the front. She even rocked side to side to allow me to adjust it neatly.  She obviously remembered how to do it. With the difficult bit over I finally  removed her leggings, took the pants, slipped my hands through the leg holes, seized her feet and slipped them up to her thighs.  She put her feet down and helpfully lifted her bottom.  I slipped the waistband of the pants up over the nappy and tucked in the elastics.  She lay there saying nothing, just staring at the ceiling; I was getting the sullen, silent treatment. Once I had finished she sat up and I gave her a hug before setting her down onto her feet again, adjusting her skirt to cover most of the pants.  She shifted from foot to foot as she ran her fingers around the leg elastics to make them more comfortable.  She then waddled cautiously off to make room for her sister.

Liz was not happy.  She stood there in just a T-shirt and bath towel, having discarded her wet dress, and viewed the changing table with loathing, her lower lip protruding under her scowl.  Without further ado I unwound her bath towel, picked her up, and sat her down onto the table.  She was not going to cooperate, so a gentle push in the stomach was necessary to get her to lie back.  I folded the other nappy on the open snap pants at the end of the table, added a muslin liner, and lifted her feet.  Alice moved the nappy and pants up and I lifted Liz's feet still further, allowing Alice to slide the nappy up under Liz's bottom to her waist.  I then brought the front up and pinned the sides.  Liz remained sullen, but reached down to examine one of the locked-down pins.  I pulled the front of the snap-on pants up and pushed her hand out of the way, and she just watched silently as Alice and I snapped the pants closed over the nappy.  Finally I put the pants of the pink romper over her feet, stood her up, tucked any stray bits of nappy into her pants all round and fastened the romper straps onto the bib over her shoulders.  A kiss , a pat on the bottom, and she was free to go.

We all trooped downstairs.  I was amused by the waddles and the big round bottoms - they took me back to the days of Gran, when I had to do the same waddle. We went back into the lounge to join the others.  Liz held back a little, reluctant to be seen in her new garb, as everyone would know what had happened.  She needn't have worried as the conversation was in full swing, and the arrival of two small children made no impact.  Eventually Peter turned round, and seeing Liz beckoned her over with a smile.  Bending down he whispered something into her ear, and pointed to the "Amelia" embroidered on her romper, and she laughed.  He then picked her up and sat her on his knee, a great honour for Liz as both the girls worshipped him.  Kate looked a trifle disconcerted for a moment, but was deftly fielded by Matt, and so was able to keep up with her sister.  There was good reason for this; from long experience of the children no-one would take them onto a lap unless they were clearly well padded, as the cost might be a wet lap.  Liz was well up to the situation, and turned on about a kilowatt of cuteness as she gazed up at her hero.  My slight concern that there might be a scene evaporated and I was able to rejoin the party with no concerns.

The return journey was horrendous, as all the weekend traffic was converging on London, and was moving very slowly through a section of roadworks.  The moans of "are we nearly there yet" started from the back seats.  I couldn't really answer it, as the length of a traffic jam is like the length of a piece of string - there was just no way to tell.  I understood the reason; it had been several hours since they last had an opportunity to use the toilet, and it must have been telling.  There was no way they could get behind the bushes in the slowly-moving traffic and so there was no real alternative.  I told them that their nappies were "free ones", a term often used but never really defined, and they went quiet.  That would mean two very wet nappies to change when we finally got back, but at least there wouldn't be any wet seats.  I just hoped that it wasn't anything worse - such as might make the muslin liners perform their duty - and that the ancient plastic pants were still up to it.

 

[WBDaddy]

Now this is an update that really made my day.   

[jen1234]

I love this story,  I wish the updates were faster

 

[WBDaddy]

9 minutes ago, jen1234 said:

I love this story,  I wish the updates were faster

 

Patience is a virtue here.  This story has been ongoing for twelve years, and Freswith has graced us with an enormous amount of material to enjoy.  

[Sarah Penguin]

[derj]

Thanks Freswith for the new chapter!

[WBDaddy]

PS:  If Freswith had a Patreon, I'd donate to it just in consideration of the amount of effort he's expended over the last 12 years.

[freswith]

Don't tempt me!

 

[square_duck]

He could retire rich(er)!!! Buy a bigger lily pad in a nice part of the pond!!! ?

[fyunch]

Ah, what a delightful story.

[freswith]

On 8/6/2020 at 8:20 AM, square_duck said:

He could retire rich(er)!!! Buy a bigger lily pad in a nice part of the pond!!! ?

The only trouble with St James Park Lake is the neighbours, always changing guard and things like that.