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I peed a pretty big flood, all at once in my diaper. Then a few minutes after I made a gargantuan long, big, but not messy turd in my diaper. I think it was one of the biggest in a while. My girlfriend heard me making some grunting sounds. She said oh it must be a really big turd 💩 . I told her it really was massive since we ate a lot for breakfast and lunch  She even put her hand on the back of my diaper and the middle even  in the front a little and said wow it really is huge as it went from partway up the front and the back of the diaper. She said I guess you’re not gonna change for a while as she knows I like it when it’s a really huge solid turd feeling especially good in my North Shore diaper, so I kept it on for about four hours. I’ll probably have somewhat of a diaper rash or irritation, even though I put on some good cream and I peed a bunch of times so I did end up changing and putting on a fresh diaper for the nighttime. I’ll certainly make a pretty nice doody  in my diaper in the morning, though I always pee and poop in my diaper every day, two times a day, sometimes three times a day, especially when I’m home or we’re both hanging out at my place at her place no real reason to use the toilet only when we’re out with my friends or her friends in the city or some other place during the day at some .0 go and use the regular bathroom put any other time even when I’ve been together with a couple of her friends and we’re coming back from a night in New York City or a summer concert is usually not a bathroom around that late at night or I don’t want to use the porta potty so I’ll make in my diaper even when her friend Amy and Alyssa are with us.

Yes, it's honestly amazing. It's the best feeling to wet the bed again! Thanks. I honestly wasn't sure it would go this fast, it surprises me as well. What I did not mention in my first post is that, all my life I've woken up about 1 to 3 times a night to pee, struggled with post-void dribbles and just found it extremely stressful to "hold it" at night, as if I had to consciously make an effort not to wet myself. I guess this may have been a predisposition or something that just made the process go faster.  Btw: your numerous posts on this forum have helped me a great deal. I've read a lot of them over time and you helped me a lot! Thank you for everything!

Chapter 67 Because of your bedwetting, I said gently, the only time you’ll need to wear diapers—whether you’re at your parents’ house or here with us—is at night or when you take a nap. That’s all. Just those times. She nodded slowly, thumb still tucked in her mouth, her eyes calm but thoughtful. Okay, I added softly. Do you have any questions about that? She gave a small smile and shook her head, silent but clearly listening. Alright then, I continued, keeping my tone warm and steady, there’s just one more thing we should talk about—and that’s your pubic hair. I paused, choosing my words carefully. You’ve got quite a bit of it, and I think it might be best if we removed it. Her expression shifted—curious, uncertain. She pulled her thumb from her mouth and asked, Why? I could see the hesitation in her eyes, the need to understand. Because, she said quietly, my bush is the only thing that makes me look like an adult. I nodded, acknowledging her feelings. I hear you, I said. And it’s okay to feel that way. But sometimes, comfort and care come before appearances. We can talk more about it and make sure you feel safe with whatever we decide. It’s not always easy, I said gently, to make sure every area that needs diaper rash ointment or baby powder is properly covered. And when it’s time to clean you up during a change, all that hair makes the process take three or four times longer. I just have to be certain that every bit of ointment is removed so your skin stays healthy. She gave a quiet nod. If my bush needs to go, she said softly, I guess you can shave it off. I offered a reassuring smile. Once it’s gone, I think you’ll really like the new look—and I know I will. She nodded slowly, thoughtful. I know it’ll take some time to get used to, she replied, but in the long run, I think I’ll like it too. And honestly, I think it’ll help me stay cleaner during my period. So, I asked gently, you’re okay with me shaving your hair off? She nodded again, her thumb still in her mouth, and gave a small smile. Yes. Alright then, I said warmly. I think we’ve covered everything. Is there anything else you want to ask or tell me? Betsy looked up with a hopeful expression. I just want to make sure I get to choose the colors and patterns of my new diapers. That’s all I ask. Of course, I assured her. You can absolutely pick how they look. Then I added with a playful grin, Though I do have a couple of patterns I’d love to see on them too. She smiled and simply said, Okay. Great! Let’s go over everything we’ve talked about so far. I’ll list each item, and after I mention it, just say yes or no to confirm how you feel about it. ·         Are you okay with drinking from a baby bottle twice a day—perhaps once in the morning and once before bedtime? Yes ·         Are you comfortable sucking your thumb or using a pacifier during diaper changes to help you feel calm and secure? Yes ·         Are you okay with wearing diapers outside the house, whether it’s for errands, walks, or casual outings? Yes ·         Are you comfortable having your diaper changed in public, as long as it’s done discreetly and privately? Yes ·         Are you okay with wearing diapers full-time while you’re at home, including during meals, playtime, and sleep? Yes ·         Are you okay with using your diaper for both peeing and messing, without needing to ask for permission? Yes ·         Are you comfortable letting me decide when you get a diaper change, rather than telling me when you need one? Yes ·          Are you okay with having most of your meals while seated in a highchair, where everything feels cozy and safe? Yes ·         Are you okay with me shaving off what you call your grown-up hair, so you feel even more little? Yes Are you okay with us getting a crib—maybe sleeping in it a couple nights a week? I asked. She lit up instantly. Yes, she said with a big smile. I chuckled. With a smile that big, we’re definitely going to need to find a way to fit a crib into our apartment. She started clapping, her excitement bubbling over. I couldn’t help but laugh along—her joy was contagious, and the idea of her having her own crib suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world. Are you okay with just wearing a diaper around the house? I asked. She laughed, a warm and familiar sound. Considering I’m usually walking around in just a diaper anyway, I think I’m fine with it. So that’s a yes? Definitely, she said, still smiling. I told her gently that we needed to go back to one of the questions I had asked her before. Remember when I asked if you were comfortable having your diaper changed in public, I said, as long as it’s done discreetly and privately? and you said yes. She nodded slowly, listening. I just want you to understand, I continued, there might be times when it can’t be completely private. Sometimes someone else might be nearby, or we might not have a perfect spot. I want to make sure you’re okay with that. She didn’t answer right away. She looked down at her hands, thinking it over in that careful, serious way she sometimes had. I didn’t rush her. I just waited. After a moment, she looked back up at me. I don’t think it will happen a lot, she said quietly. And I trust you. So… I’m okay if someone sees. I know you won’t let anything bad happen. Her voice was soft but steady, and there was a kind of quiet confidence in it that made my chest warm. I nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. Thank you for telling me, I said. And I promise—I’ll always do my best to keep things comfortable for you. She relaxed then, the tension easing from her shoulders, and she reached for my hand like she always did when she felt safe. I paused for a moment before continuing. Okay, here’s the last one. You told me you wanted to be treated like a 3-year-old, with everything that comes with it. Is that still true? She looked at me, her cheeks flushing a soft red. Her voice dropped to a gentle whisper. I know you don’t really get it, she said, but I’m in a happy place when I’m wearing diapers—and using them the way they’re meant to be used. Her words hung in the air, tender and honest. I nodded slowly, taking it all in. This wasn’t just about routines or props—it was about comfort, trust, and feeling safe in a space where she could truly be herself.  Well, it’s like I told you before with me being a diaper lover, I like seeing you wearing a wet and stinky diaper with you sucking on your thumb. There is nothing better than seeing your diaper swing back and forth as you are walking. I also like it when you do the diaper dance. I like it when you get out of bed in the morning and your diaper is so soggy, that’s it’s about ready to fall off your hips. We each find happiness in our own way—yours in wearing a diaper, mine in seeing you feel safe and content in one. It’s a shared joy, something intimate and uniquely ours. There’s something quietly beautiful about embracing what brings us comfort, even if the world doesn’t always understand. Life’s too short to deny ourselves the things that make us feel whole. After I said that, she looked at me with wide eyes and asked, Does this mean we’re moving in together when school starts? I smiled. If that’s what you want, then yes—we are. Her response was unmistakably her own. She used her diaper again, a gesture so personal and unexpected it caught me off guard. But I couldn’t help but smile. So… with that little gesture, I’m going to take it as a yes, I said, half-joking, half-serious. She giggled, and the moment hung between us—tender, honest, and full of promise. Now, all that’s left is the big step: telling our parents about our plan for the upcoming school year. That conversation will come soon enough. Speaking of our parents, we figured it was time to check on the cheesecake and flip the steaks that had been marinating. As we walked into the kitchen, I noticed the gentle sway of her diaper with each step. There was something oddly endearing about it—something that made me feel closer to her, like we were building a life together one quiet moment at a time. We both leaned over to inspect the cheesecake. For our first attempt, it looked surprisingly good—golden on top, smooth around the edges, and just the right amount of wobble. We exchanged a quick glance, silently proud of ourselves. Then we flipped the steaks one last time, letting them soak up the last bit of marinade. With those taken care of, I asked Betsy to grab the BBQ baked beans while I picked up the four foil-wrapped potatoes and headed outside to fire up the grill. Time to get everything cooking and bring our plan to life—one step at a time. With everything else prepped, all that remained was the salad. I glanced at the clock—plenty of time before we needed to toss it together, and even more before our moms returned from their spa day. Betsy seemed content, and I could tell she appreciated a little more time in her diaper before changing back into her shorts and T-shirt. So we let the moment linger, unhurried and peaceful. The lake was quiet, not a soul in sight. I asked if she wanted to head down and sit by the water for a while. We’ve still got time, I said. No rush to change you just yet. She smiled and said, Sure. And with that, we wandered down to the shore, letting the calm of the afternoon wrap around us like a soft blanket. We must have been down by the lake longer than I realized, because suddenly we heard the crunch of tires on gravel—someone was pulling into the driveway. It had to be our moms, back from their spa day, bringing the rhythm of the afternoon gently back to life. Betsy froze, her eyes wide with panic. Oh no, she whispered. The crunch of tires on gravel echoed again—closer this time. There was no way we’d make it back to the cabin before they did. I could see the worry etched across her face, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. She started spiraling, her thoughts racing ahead. What am I supposed to say? she asked, voice tight with panic. How do I explain to my mom why I’m in a very wet diaper? I stepped closer, trying to calm her down. Don’t worry. We’ll just say you woke up from a nap. You know how it goes—you aways wake up soaked. Betsy shook her head, her expression doubtful. That’s not going to work. It’s the only thing we’ve got that sounds halfway believable, I said with a shrug. Unless you’ve got a better idea. She sighed, still unsure, but I could see her starting to accept that we’d have to roll with it. Her shoulders relaxed just a little, and the panic in her eyes softened into reluctant resolve. We’ll figure it out, I said gently. One step at a time. Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway—measured, confident, and unmistakably familiar. Our moms were returning, radiant and recharged from their spa day, chatting and laughing as they approached with the kind of carefree energy that only comes from hours of pampering. But the moment Betsy's mom caught sight of her daughter, everything shifted. She stopped abruptly, mid-sentence, her eyes widening in disbelief. Her gaze locked onto Betsy, and her voice cut through the air like a blade. Betsy, she said slowly, her eyebrows arching high. Why on earth are you wearing a diaper—and from the looks of it, a very wet one?

Someone i look up to, absolutely will not if he can avoid it, do a short power up on his jet engine. Mainly because of how much it shortens the life span of the engine. Mind you he runs his helicopter. The helicopter has has 2 small but very powerful jet engines on his little germen helicopter. 

Part 2 The following day I woke up and knew something was different; it didn’t take long to realise that I’d crapped myself. This was a huge thing to happen. I mean, it’s bad enough pissing yourself at night but crapping yourself, well, that’s a completely different ball game. My conversation with Terry had obviously had more of a worrying effect on my mind than anticipated because I’d dreamt of him and the rest of the class taunting me by insisting I fill my nappy. The thing is, in real life, once he knew, Terry was all understanding and thankfully not up for public mocking, which is what I hoped of him. So why I’d had this awful outcome as I slept I don’t know but, and I hate to admit it, I was scared enough by my school mate’s nightmarish jeers and threats to fill my nappy as the mob demanded. It was an unsettled night, marked by a distressing nightmare in which I was not my sixteen-year-old self, but instead a frightened young child, surrounded by older boys who mocked and intimidated me. At times, I attempted to present myself as a teenager, yet my attire suggested otherwise, causing disbelief among those around me. The ridicule was persistent and unnerving. Eventually, they encircled me, pulling at my clothing and insisting that I act according to their expectations of a baby. This overwhelming scenario led to a loss of control within the confines of my dream—an experience that, unfortunately, extended beyond the boundaries of sleep. Mum’s usual bang on the door ‘get up call’ had me worried. This wasn’t something I could hide, although I desperately wanted to, and something too shameful to admit to. However, there was a certain potent smell which I was sure would permeate the house if I didn’t get up and sort myself out. On the other hand, sixteen or not, I really didn’t want to deal with this on my own. Bruce was quietly curled up at the foot of my bed and didn’t seem alarmed at the musty smell. I didn’t want to blame him for the stench although the thought had crossed my mind. “Mum” I called and Bruce perked up his ears and came bounding over. “Yes love, what is it?” Mum’s concerned voice replied. “Can you come in for a minute please?” My voice drifting to almost zero as I was unsure what reaction would follow. I suppose, when she walked in she knew immediately it was me and not the dog. I was standing next to my bed, with a very full droopy nighttime fabric nappy and she’d quickly assessed the smelly situation. Meanwhile, Bruce had his paws pressed against my plastic coated hip, his tail wagged as I gently stroked his head. No judgement from him at least.   “Oh dear!” Mum looked from the sagginess back up to my face and although I hated to admit something else, I was on the verge of tears and needed mum to help sort this mess out. “Down Bruce,” he looked at mum and, as all of us do, did what she said immediately. He slowly padded back to his spot by the door and waited further instructions. After that she was on the case. “Okay sweetheart, go to the bathroom and wait for me.” She moved across and opened the window wider, a move I thought I should have done but of course, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and couldn’t grasp how waking up wet had suddenly converted to waking up with a full and disgusting nappy. The night before, as she’d insisted now for a few nights, saw me wearing one of her thick fabric nappies to sleep in. The substantial vinyl pants that covered it was a pleasant sensation to fall asleep stroking but now I just felt silly not being in control of... Oh god... it was just awful to think, let alone experience, what I was carrying in the seat of all this sodden material. I could feel the extra weight being held in place by the slick pants and thought I could see mum looking at Bruce as if to say, ‘At least you managed to hold yours for the night’. I may have been reading something into nothing but I was feeling very guilty. “Sorry mum,” I tried to keep up my sixteen year-old charade even though at that moment I felt like a little kid, “I had a nightmare and got scared... I s’pose?” was all I could offer as an excuse. “It’s alright love, don’t worry, these things happen so don’t fret. We’ll soon have everything sorted.” She patted my shoulder with sympathy as I made my weary way to the bathroom.   She checked the bed to make sure none of the sheets needed attention, which didn’t (that part of the laundry rule had been observed) then followed and closed the door behind us. “I know you’re probably feeling embarrassed but don’t be, accidents happen and we can only be glad that you’ve been thoughtful enough to wear a nappy at these demanding times.” I assumed she was referring to the fact that I’d been quite anxious about my exams. I know she was trying to make me feel better but it wasn’t working, I still felt like a stupid toddler unable to get to the toilet in time. Sixteen or not, I was battling to keep back the tears, this to me seemed an all-time low and one I’d find difficult to bounce back from. I’d always have the knowledge that a lad my age had shit in his nappy (HIS NAPPY!) and that lad was me. I was full of shame, misery and apologies. She pulled down my plastic pants and the full horror of the messy material was revealed. As I stepped out of them she said, “Thank God for these,” and threw the plastic pants into the sink. “Okay love, step into the shower and I’ll unpin you... just don’t look if you’re feeling a bit queasy.” I could feel myself about to gag at the thought, never mind the sight, of my foul excretions. It flopped heavily onto the shower tray. Mum reached in and instantly removed it and told me to get a thorough shower “... and pay attention to your bum sweetie.” She didn’t need to say anything else as I got the drift. I’m a lad of sixteen and I’d shit myself. Thankfully the padding contained everything but that didn’t stop me feeling like I’d let everyone down. Mum had seen my shitty bum, hell, she must have thought those days were well behind her. Well, my behind was going to need extra attention and I needed to stop being queasy and get to it. # I can’t tell you how upsetting it was to see the brown water trickle down the plughole. I kept up a sudsy application to that area until I was sure... well... I wouldn’t say it was good enough to eat off but you get the idea. As I was drying myself on the landing I could hear mum and dad talking downstairs. I listened in and caught bits of their conversation. From what I could gather dad must have asked if this was a new problem but mum was arguing not to make a ‘big thing’ about it. “Look love,” she spoke quietly to dad, “just don’t make it an issue. He’s had an accident and I’m sure the poor lad is beside himself with embarrassment so doesn’t need us making it worse.” In my mind’s eye I saw dad nodding in agreement even if a little doubtful. “What we need to remember is that we’ve got a great kid who has the bravery to wear a nappy because he needs to... not many lad’s his age would be that self-aware AND,” she emphasised, “I’m proud that he’s bright enough to know that a nappy and plastic pants have saved him from the embarrassment of making a huge mess.” She paused and then continued “Just think, if he hadn’t been wearing protection how the poor boy would feel. We should only mention it if he does... don’t you think?” “Hmmm,” I heard dad reply uncertainly. It was nice to know they weren’t mad at me and thought I was being grown up about my juvenile problem. I was feeling quite good about myself, now I was cleaned up, but a thought suddenly struck me – what if they knew I was listening and they were just saying all that for my benefit. That caused a massive blast of anxiety to course through my body and an extra, unsolicited spurt of pee into my towel. Oh God I don’t need this worry. But the towel had saved my leaky embarrassment like the nappy had done. Bloody hell, I need a nappy whether I want one or not but thankfully, I have to wear one so... I could hear them carry on with whatever they were doing downstairs so assumed the conversation had ended. I walked back into my bedroom and saw that mum wasn’t taking any chances and had laid out all the stuff I needed – Petroleum jelly, powder, a pre-folded fabric nappy, pins and a pair of new robust-looking blue vinyl pants. I sighed, despite it being a school day, I s’pose I shouldn’t have expected anything else - prevention is better than cure as she would say. Which of course is nonsense, a cure would be far better. # I’d just more or less got my head around the fact that I might need all this stuff at night but then worried ‘what if I had a similar accident during class or worse, in the middle of an exam?’ I’d already told mum about the uncomfortable soaker pad in my briefs from the day before and that I’d used a disposable for the rest of the day but the shitty mess I’d just left behind had taken my ‘problem’ to a different level. I was just trying to deal with that concern when mum came and joined me. “I know, I know,” she was in straight away, “I can see you’re reluctant to wear all this for school, and I don’t blame you, but firstly we have to think what caused you to, you know...?” For someone who wasn’t going to say anything she was certainly saying something. I shrugged and nodded that I knew to what she was referring, it would have been difficult to try and deny it. Especially as there was a new small yellow pee stain on the towel I was trying to hide. I explained about my nightmare and what the fear being discovered wearing a nappy at school had induced so, as a result, wasn’t keen on wearing all this stuff now... just in case it all kicked off for real. “It’s up to you of course sweetheart, I’ve just laid it out as a recommendation but if you think you can cope with a possible accident wearing your normal underpants that’s fine by me.” Of course, the way she said it, leaving it for me to decide, meant that I’d be stupid to ignore her suggestion. “Won’t it look a bit bulky under my trousers?” I enquired. “Well let’s see shall we... do you need any help?” She was already armed with the petroleum jelly to rub in so I simply dropped my towel and let her get on with it. Although we’re a loving family and have few hang-ups this degree of intimacy was a relatively new thing. Mum and Dad had always given me my privacy, which I appreciated but with the wetting came something else, concern. I quickly understood that this was something I might not be able to handle on my own and certainly mum was keen to make sure I was armed for any eventuality. I learned fairly quickly that as far as mums in general are concerned, you’ll always be their baby no matter what age you are. I understood she was keen to help and it would be foolish not to accept all that was offered. She knew what was needed whereas I had no idea. Mum had made it her mission, whilst I needed to wear a nappy, to simply be there and help me through the process, which had her pinning me in when she felt it was more practical. She seemed to enjoy these times and I s’pose, to a certain extent, oddly, so did I. # Mum was completely unconcerned about why this should be happening as she simply got on with distributing the gooey jelly evenly around my newly naked parts. “Mum, doesn’t this worry you?” I asked concerned. “Not really love. You have a problem, which we hope to have sorted soon but, in the meantime, we’ve found a simple and effective way to keep any embarrassment to a minimum.” Mini Mum, ha-ha... will that ever get old? I chuckled to myself. Just so you’re in on the joke, dad is six foot one, I’m five foot eight, whilst mum is barely five feet, though nonetheless a complete powerhouse. “But the expense of these nappies and such... well it can’t be cheap.” I casually added. Not that we are paupers but any new expense has to be taken into account. Mum nervously interrupted “Yes, well now, erm, I’ve been meaning to chat to you about that... erm...” I’ve never seen mum lost for words before so this caginess made me wonder what she was going to reveal. “Er, Avril and I have been talking...” “Mum, I have no idea who you’re talking about.” “Oh no, of course, Avril is the lady at the pharmacy who I’ve been chatting to about, erm, all this.” She spread her hand out to indicate my nappy and the rest of the stuff. “What do you mean... chatting about it... you mean me?” I asked a little incredulously. “Yes,” she replied sheepishly. “I’ve been telling her about your problem and between us we came up with this as the best way to deal with it.” She could see I wanted to complain about being the subject of idle gossip but she steamrolled ahead with what she had to say. “And, as she’s been so helpful suggesting things, erm, she wondered if you’d be happy...” Now it was my turn to interrupt. “MUM, isn’t it bad enough that I have this problem without everyone being in on it?” “Love it’s not like that. She’s a qualified pharmacist and I wanted what was best for you until we see the doctor.” She patted my arm and looked searchingly for approval. “She came up with a load of suggestions but we settled on this.” I don’t know for sure but there may have been a brief look of guilt that passed over her features. “And, as we chatted, umm, she wondered, if perhaps, you’d like to be part of a new marketing and research programme? It would simply entail reviewing the stuff you are now using?” “What?” By now mum had rubbed in all the goo, showered me in powder and shuffled the fabric under me. It wasn’t the best moment to take her to task for being mum. “Avril was impressed by our openness and thought you sounded an ideal candidate to take this on.” “What do you mean OUR openness? So you’ve been ‘bragging’ about your incontinent sixteen-year-old son and now I’m an ideal candidate for...” “Yes I know” she’d picked up on my disbelief, “but surely a little bit of feedback is okay isn’t it?” She opened the first pin and anchored the right hand side of the hefty material and then got ready to do the same with the left. I was completely floored by what she was saying and found it hard to reply. Words of anger, confusion and more assignments... I had hoped that with the exams all but over I wouldn’t have to do any more homework for months. “Look, I said I’d ask. I’m also giving feedback from a mum’s perspective but they thought if a review came from your point of view... review, your point of view...” she seemed to find that amusing for some reason “Well, it would be different and the companies would be, well, we’re getting some of this stuff free or at cost price so...” She seemed both embarrassed she’d mentioned it and dismissive as if to say it wasn’t a big deal. “So, you’ve already agreed?” I queried, more than a little annoyed mum should have volunteered me for such a thing. However, the thick, soft fabric was now in place and despite my many reservations it didn’t feel too bad – chunky, but soft and chunky. I had been quite surprised at how quickly I’d gotten used to wearing a nappy to bed and after my initial reluctance to wear ‘plastic baby pants’ at how soon I’d taken to them as well. So far, as mum pointed out; by wearing a nappy I’d avoided any real embarrassment as these lovely little ‘baby’ items (as I jokingly referred to them) were proving more than effective. She said nothing merely shuffled a new pair of thick blue vinyl pants up my legs and over the fluffy material. She looked a bit sheepish but added “Please give it some thought. I waited until after your Maths exam to mention it. So it shouldn’t be a time consuming job... and what you say might just benefit others.” “How?” “Well, from a user’s point of view - how they feel at night, are they comfortable to sleep in and, erm, what are they like to wear for school... you know... day to day wear...?” She continued trying to persuade me. “Despite these companies doing loads of research they really appreciate actual consumer feedback and they don’t get enough from someone, erm, your age.” “That’s because most lads my age don’t wear a nappy... and what’s more... those that do don’t want others knowing about it.” I was trying to be angry about the situation but of course, it was me that was peeing and shitting and the nappy was there for my protection. I had already made a mental note, and Mum had of course made similar references, that since wearing one there hadn’t been any dirty bed linen or soggy PJs (but that was because I had such thick protection to sleep in I hardly wore them now) and, AND, the plastic pants did keep everything contained so it was just the soiled nappies that needed washing. She patted my slinky padding and gave me one of those looks that said - It’s up to you but I think you should. “This could be something that helps others who might have a similar problem but are, unlike you, afraid to face it. I think you could be an inspiration.” “Oh mum, is that why you want me to wear them now... so I can review them?” Mum said nothing just left me to finish putting on my school uniform and checking if everything fitted alright. “Come down when you’re ready sweetheart and we’ll see if...” “Mum...?” But she sheepishly exited and I was left wondering if I’d just been set up just so I could have slightly cheaper protection. Of course my little problem was indeed costing us money, an extra strain of our family finances and that was because of me and my annoying bladder. I knew we weren’t poor and that dad’s job (and the company) was surviving okay under current terrible economic conditions but any unforeseen or extra layout could become a bit of a liability. I couldn’t let my dripping willy be the cause of the family missing out on something because of my need for nappies. I looked around at the stuff piled on the dresser and understood that maybe, because of the obvious cost, I needed to think about such things before I had a go at people who were just trying to help. Now I felt selfish and guilty, after all mum, and I s’pose the pharmacist, were only trying to do what was best for me. I needed to stop letting mum take all the responsibility and take some on myself. # tbc #