Sissy Room

Did you get caught 

Part 8 The paddy that was about to follow didn’t even start. Dad, in a moment of controlled anger, slapped his hand on the table with such force it made all the cutlery rattle and the plates jump. Taken aback, it also made me and mum flinch. “That’s enough Johnny,” he said forcefully, stopping any thought of continuing my demands. “No more of this childishness.” I could see he was deadly serious and I’d never seen him in such a state before so stunned I clammed shut. Unfortunately, my bladder did the opposite and seemingly alarmed, shot several spurts of pee I didn’t even know I had left into my padding. “There will be no more writing reviews, snuggling under fleecy onesies or acting like a toddler. You’re sixteen, and although you have a bladder problem, this is not the way we are going to treat it from this moment on. I want my teenage son back and wearing a nappy or not, I intend to have just that.” Mum and I were speechless. I’m not sure either of us had seen dad like that or heard him being so definite and in charge. Dad looked at mum as if he was putting all the blame on her but when he looked at me I just cast my eyes down and dare not look at him directly. However, with my nappy filling up I wasn’t sure just how much of a teenager I was but dad had snapped me out of my toddler tantrum and made me think. “I’ll speak with Avril tomorrow,” was mum’s attempt at placating dad, “and see what she has to say.” “I think we’ve had enough of that woman, look what she’s turned our son into.” He wasn’t going to let mum off easily either so she looked a bit shocked that blame was laid at her feet and got a little defensive. “I’ve only been doing what’s best for Johnny...” I’d never seen mum like this, she was usually the one in charge but this outburst from dad had really shaken her. “You think all this... stuff... is what he really needs?” I knew dad was angry because I’d never heard him speak to mum like this or seen her shrink away from confrontation before. “If he needs to wear a nappy, and I can see that it is necessary... like now...” he seemed to know that my nappy was soaked, “that’s fine but that’s about the limit.” In a less angry moment he held mum’s hand. “Look love, I’m blaming you and I shouldn’t be so hard but I feel you’ve encouraged this and to a certain extent enjoyed having your ‘little boy’ back but, I think even you realise that things have gone too far and I think it should stop, okay?” Mum nodded. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time but without such dramatics mum had more-or-less come to a similar conclusion but for different reasons and although wounded by dad’s accusation couldn’t disagree with him. Despite me, only minutes earlier demanding a dummy, I was also pulled up by this extreme situation as to whether there were different desires (perhaps hormones) reaching out and reacting to my body that I didn’t know about. What I did know, I was suddenly on the same page as dad – why the hell would a sixteen-year-old want to be immersed in all this childish stuff? That feeling lasted almost a minute before I began to panic. “Dad, dad, you’re not going to take everything away are you?” I could feel my heart pulsating and tears formed in the corner of my eyes. “Please dad, don’t take away my...” “No worry son, I’m not going to take anything away...” I sighed some relief. However that also didn’t last long when he added, “You’re going to pack up everything... apart from the nappies and plastic pants which you still need... and give them back to the pharmacist... okay?” I looked at him as if he’d just passed a jail sentence on me. “But dad...” “No buts Johnny, we need to see an end to all this and you need to be the one to say goodbye to what you’ve become...” Mum wasn’t going to get all the blame there was certainly plenty to spare for me. “There are some black bin bags in the kitchen and I want you to start packing all that stuff away right now and then it’s done.” “But dad, please, I mean... mum please don’t make me I can’t...” I wasn’t getting any support there either but thought it pretty cruel that dad was having me make the decisions on what had to go. I didn’t want any of it to go, which was incredible because only a few seconds before I thought dad was correct, I didn’t need all this baby stuff. My head didn’t know what my mind wanted – more toddler than teen. However, I could really have done with one of my FruitiZuckers, that would have put everything in perspective and calmed my building and confusing fear. I knew I couldn’t ask for their return but wondered where mum might have put them. I thought if I looked like I was doing as dad said then I could delay things so could begin my search in the kitchen drawers but all I found was those damned bin bags. # I’d never experienced hubby react in such a way and I was quite taken aback by his accusation. The truth was I’d already come to the same conclusion I just hadn’t quite got around to expressing it... although I was trying to. When he accused me of encouraging it I wanted to go into denial but hadn’t I just changed Terry’s wet nappy and sent him home in a fresh one. I’d also enjoyed watching the boys in their childish play so despite not wanting to be blamed I was quite culpable. # Of course mum knew exactly what I was up to. “If you’re searching for your dummy, forget it...” I pretended that wasn’t the case but she wasn’t fooled. “No, no just doing as dad said... erm... but...” “Sorry sweetheart but your father’s right. All this has gotten out of hand and we need to put a lid on it.” She came in for a hug, which I hoped meant she was relenting just a little. “I’m annoyed at myself for not noticing the changes sooner, or, more infuriatingly, just going along with it because, well, you seemed to be enjoying it all.” “Mum,” I said trying to get her on my side, “I am enjoying it. Despite waking up wet and needing a nappy all the time, I feel it’s something comforting and...” “That’s the problem love,” she brushed hair off my forehead, “despite everything that we hoped would lead to a cure nothing has changed and I’ve let you become reliant on all this stuff instead of trying to get to the main issue, which was for you to stop wetting your pants.” It was strange because as she spoke I could understand what was meant, I had become fixated on the various items of clothing and not paid any attention to the actual problem. I mean, I was wetting all the time and I’d become totally dependent on my protection to deal with it. There was a time when this was just a little problem but now it was a huge problem but because of all the stuff, I simply wasn’t bothered. “I’m sorry love,” she hugged me tightly, “but we have to address the issue and not just cover it up with pretty Dreamtime nappies.” There was part of me that knew she was right but another part that didn’t want things to change, which was ridiculous because who wants to stay a sixteen year-old pants wetter? Well, I did or so it seemed. “Mummm... erm...” but whatever I was going to say died on my lips and I fell into a surprisingly quick depression. I wanted to scream my opposition to what dad wanted but he seemed to have mum’s support and although I knew why they were doing what they planned, I desperately wanted to keep hold of all my cuddly stuff; stuff I thought important for my wellbeing. # Mum’s phone rang and I heard he say “Hello Holly” so knew it was Terry’s mum calling. “Erm, yes, erm... wait... let me just....” You could see from her reaction that what Holly was saying she didn’t want dad to know and excused herself to another room. Meanwhile, dad had that look that told me he expected I should have started packing stuff away by now. Guiltily I tried to shove one of my onesies into a plastic bin bag but it felt like I was getting rid of one of my best friends. “Look son,” he knew I was more than a little reluctant, “I know you’re not keen but...” he patted my sagging nappy. “Perhaps things might feel a little better if we get you out of this soggy padding and into something a bit drier.” I nodded so he helped me out of it and said I should go wash and clean myself up, which I did. Anxiety was flashing through my body and up into my head. One second I understood where dad and mum were coming from, the next I was full of resentment... it made no sense. I’d been released from my waterlogged padding and stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror trying to take in my reflection. I had no pubes, my body was pale (especially around that area) and I thought I looked more like a little kid than a self-centred and self-confident teenager. I shook myself, as if trying to alter the image staring back at me, but it was useless. Not only did I look like a little kid I felt like one as well. # “I don’t know if Terry’s told you but John has been suffering from anxiety incontinence for some time now...”  Susan listened to the reply from her irate neighbour. “Oh, I thought he might have said...still...” but the barrage at the other end of the phone continued. “No, I just thought... he might have mentioned it in passing...” Holly Jackson was sticking up for her son telling her he wasn’t one to spread gossip. “Well, that’s being a very good friend... and that’s exactly what John was trying to be when Terry came round earlier.” Susan was thinking that she should have just sent him home without the change but then, that would have been a terrible thing to do to a lad wearing a soaked disposable... for whatever reason. Perhaps a better idea would have been to make him get dressed in the clothes he came in and that wouldn’t have caused any problems. She obviously hadn’t thought through the consequences of her actions merely thought to get him into something dry. It had never occurred to her that he simply would be seen wearing it by his parents. Alas, she had just thought he looked cute next to John and... well... you know what thought did? Thought wrong. Holly, a friend she’d known for a quite a number of years, seemed furious that her son arrived home wearing a nappy, which he told her Susan had put him in. What possible excuse could there be and what had she been playing at? The questions and accusations kept coming but as Susan didn’t have all the facts at her disposal and could only go by what John had told her, she tried to keep it as light-hearted as possible, despite the implications. “Yes, yes Holly, but you must understand that Terry and John are the very best of mates and when Terry said, “How does it feel” and then offered the chance to try them, like a good, erm, supportive friend, that’s just what he did”. The argument and interrogation continued as Holly tried to comprehend (or blame) something she didn’t really quite understand. As far as she was concerned it was of course completely against something her son would do. He was sixteen after all. Even to Susan’s ears, as she was trying to explain she doubted if Holly, who knew her son better than anyone, would except her explanation... whether it was true or not. Terry had never come over as that type of lad. This of course made Susan suspect even more that the dummy had some input into both the boy’s behaviour but hoped not to have to mention that at this stage. “I’m sorry Holly if I’ve caused a problem, I didn’t mean to and of course John here was so happy that for a little while at least he had someone with him who seemed to understand and empathise with his, well, rather embarrassing situation.” Susan hoped this tack might be a little bit more successful but made her even more determined to get to the bottom of why two teenage boys should have been acting like a couple of toddlers to the point they had wet themselves. Meanwhile, Holly needed to know why her son had wet himself in the first place... and that was going to be a more difficult thing to rationalise. # Bruce was at the bathroom door and whining to come in. Since he’d been forbidden to sleep in my room at night he’d become nervous of entering anywhere without permission. However, as he’d seen me in all the various stages of undress since he was a puppy and I was ten it hardly seemed fair keeping him out now. “C’mon,” I patted the side of my thigh and Bruce seemed overjoyed to wander over wagging his tail for a quick stroke and being made a fuss of. “Yes boy... who’s a good boy...” and I appreciated his return affection by snuggling up against my crotch and licking my thigh. After a few minutes of petting (I’m not sure who was getting the most out of it) I decided to get dressed so wandered back to my room. Surprisingly, dad was still there and inspecting all the stuff that had spread about the room. “Well lad,” he said lifting a pile of thick disposables, “I know you’re still going to need these but hopefully, when the doctor lets us know the results of your tests, we’ll have a better idea of how we need to progress.” He sighed, “However, until then I suppose you should keep all this stuff handy,” he spread his hand to take in the nappies, plastic pants and various powders and ointments, “but try and lose some of these other items... I really think they are giving off the wrong message.” Dad wasn’t angry. In fact, if anything, I think he’d calmed down a bit but again I could see what he was getting at though nothing seemed as urgent as it had only a few minutes ago. I suppose he’d had a moment to reflect and as he’d just let me out of a very soggy nappy knew that despite everything else, I still needed my padded protection and the thicker the better. “Can you just make sure that you wear some clothes over your nappies... let’s get you back to a touch of normality... can you do that?” “Yes dad, no problem,” I said as my sixteen year old self. He paused at the door as if in thought. I wasn’t sure whether he was thinking about offering to put me in my nappy, which in truth I would have loved because I like the idea of being looked after, but in the end he sort of shrugged and left me to it. I toddled over to the pile of thick fleecy nappies and thought about pinning myself into one of them and pulling up some of the less flamboyant plastic pants but in the end decided on a lovely colourful disposable and my special sturdy pair of blue rubber pants to hold it in place. Then I pulled on a pair of jeans, which I’m not sure when I last wore and hoped dad would be satisfied. However, I didn’t like the way it all felt, the jeans were too restrictive so I swapped them out for a pair of rather old but looser robust elasticated grey school shorts that would easily fit over everything and a navy blue polo shirt. # I sat on my bed and absentmindedly stroked Bruce’s head and scratched his ears, which he seemed to like. I was sorting out in my head what things I could pack away and the items I definitely wanted to keep. As it was, and despite trying to be a good teenager, I wanted to keep the lot as everything had given me pleasure at some point. The thing is, I was thinking as a sixteen year old yet still wanted to keep my childish fluffy Dreamtime onesies, footed sleepers, even teddy, which had given me some lovely night-time cuddles and hated the thought of losing any of it. I knew this was madness. However, I also knew I had to make a start and reluctantly shoved a couple of the older items in the black plastic bag and hoped I wouldn’t miss them as much. Once I started I was quite amazed at the amount of products I seemed to have accumulated in such a relative short space of time and began to find things I’d forgotten about. Unfortunately, that set me off thinking about wearing or at least trying them on again and that made me annoyed that I was having to lose so much stuff, which of course in turn made me want to keep everything all over again. I knew it was going to be hard but making any kind of choice was becoming ridiculous in my teenage/toddler brain. # That was it! My mind had become confused as to who exactly I was. I reached for a dummy but of course that had been taken away by mum and it was then that I realised that I’d come to enjoy sucking on that particular item far too much. Maybe mum was on to something. Suddenly that jumble of emotions and irrationality, the feeling of being part of something when in fact I wasn’t influencing anything but being influenced - it was quite the disappointing eye-opener and I felt used by the Dreamtime company. I wondered how long this moment of clarity would last... that was until I looked in the mirror and could make out the huge nappy and plastic pants under my shorts, which without doubt made me look the little kid I felt I’d become. I had to think pretty hard not to like what I saw. I’m sixteen, I shouldn’t be... oh god... I’m just caught up in some creepy ball of confusion. There are things I actually liked, and like, about behaving, and dressing as a little kid. For one, I had loved innocently playing with Terry and him wearing the same as me. It just seemed right and I’d never seen him so happy. We’d spent quite some time just having fun with toys and letting our imaginations take over. It was incredible. It was... well... it was a feeling, for me at least, of a different life that I missed and was so enjoyable. The fact that we were both in nappies, and it didn’t matter, made it so we didn’t have to explain anything, it just happened. Me and Terry have been friends since little kids but I don’t think we have ever played like we did in those few hours... well, since we were little. The thing is, I know I shouldn’t but these thoughts are just going round and round in my head. I wasn’t sure what I could do to break this sequence of self-induced mind-games – was I a teenager or a little kid? Another thought was, did I prefer being a little kid. I mean, I seemed to have fun but did that mean I couldn’t have fun as a teenager, or was I just overthinking the entire situation? I sat on my bed when Bruce came over and nuzzled my hand wanting more affection. Was that how I’d become? I asked myself once more, is all this stuff me wanting attention and through the nappies and these various items was getting it? Had I become more interested (and needy) in all the things Avril and Dreamtime had been supplying and that everything else had become less important? Did I need all these soft and comfy things or had I just been indulging myself at the expense of actually finding a cure for my incontinence? I looked at Bruce and gave him a lovely long stroke on his belly and his hind leg started reacting to his enjoyment. I realised, in some way at least, this had become my reaction when I got something new to try out. # Over the next couple of days, not much seemed to change, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were shifting beneath the surface. Avril was unreachable - her replacement at the pharmacy couldn’t say if she was ill or away, only that she hadn’t mentioned any plans. That uncertainty left a strange knot in my stomach and another unanswered set of questions for mum. Then, whenever I called, Terry’s mum always had a new excuse for why he couldn’t come to the phone. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was hiding something, or if Terry himself was avoiding me on purpose. Was something going on that I didn’t know about? Was not having my dummy to suck causing some kind of paranoia? Then I remembered that he was also sucking on a dummy when he arrived at our place. Hmmm. At home, Dad’s behaviour was puzzling too. I’d filled a couple of bin bags with things he’d asked for, but now he seemed in no hurry to get rid of them. Had he already decided what to do with my things behind my back, or was he just waiting for something? The odd silence between us made the atmosphere feel heavier. All the while, I found myself slipping into a strange in-between place. I’d stopped wearing the fleecy pyjamas and onesies as Dad had asked, sticking to just a nappy and plastic pants at night. Oddly, wearing only those should have made me feel younger, but instead I felt oddly grown-up, like I was finally accepting things as they were. Maybe it was relief, or maybe resignation—either way, it left me feeling both exposed and strangely mature, as if I’d crossed some invisible line in my own mind. No dummy, but I was surviving without it. However, each morning my nappy was still soaked. I still needed as much protection as ever. With all these questions swirling around - Avril’s absence, Terry’s evasiveness, Dad’s sudden change of heart—the days started to blur together. I was restless, waiting for something to break the tension. And then, just as the uncertainty was beginning to feel unbearable, we got the call from the doctor’s office asking Mum or Dad to come in as soon as possible. That was when I realised I’d only been skimming the surface of what was really going on around me. # “Does your son take drugs?” The doctor’s words were damning. The accusation took Susan by surprise but she’d known that the reason the doctor needed to talk was because of some result of John’s blood test. “No of course not... why do you ask?” Susan asked cautiously. “Well, because we found traces of methamphetamine in the tests we’ve just run.” He offered the screen on his desk for her to see the results for herself and pointed out the bright colourful spikes on the graph. “Although, it isn’t a drug we know too well... it might be something new that’s going around school... or something... these protein levels are a little high as well but they might be down to diet or something. I don’t see a need to worry about them at the moment.” the doctor saw the look of disappointment on Susan Benedict’s face and wished he’d approached this news a little differently. “My son does not take drugs,” although suspicious she wasn’t certain she should confide in the doctor. However, she quickly decided she couldn’t keep her misgivings to herself and produced one of John’s much loved dummies and explained her worries about it. “Why does your teenage son use a child’s pacifier?” Dr Answah cautiously held it at arms-length. “Mmmm, well...” Susan started guardedly but decided he needed details. She then went into the explanation of the deal she and the pharmacist had struck about the supplies they’d organised for John’s wetting problem and how things had developed over the last couple of months from there. She told him of her current suspicions about the relatively new inclusion of dummies and said that although her son was sixteen, at times he acted childishly, which she was at pains to point out, was not like him normally and was also a relatively recent development. In fact, as far as she knew, only since he’d started using a dummy, which John said he found most soothing. “Hmmmm,” Doctor Answah listened closely and advised that she should collect all the dummies, give them to the police and tell them what she’d just told him. As far as he could see, something was definitely fishy and therefore should have no further involvement with the pharmacist until tests had been carried out. So, the blood tests had shown some kind of drugs in John’s system but no other cause of his urinary cascade and the need for the continued use of nappies. The results showed no symptoms of infection or blockage, so that was at least something. Meanwhile, the young doctor discussed the results and listened to Susan explain her son’s problem in more depth. He suggested that a psychiatrist might be needed to get to the bottom of John’s problem and offered a contact number if there was no improvement. Susan was a little shell-shocked with the news of drugs in her son’s system, however, it did unfortunately explain the change in his behaviour. At the same time she wondered if Avril’s absence from work was somehow connected. She didn’t really want to go to the police before she’d spoken with her but that ship may well have sailed. Susan’s feelings were a tangled web of guilt, nostalgia, and bafflement. For weeks, she had watched John regress into a state of childhood innocence that seemed to soothe something inside him—and, if she was honest with herself, brought a bittersweet comfort to her as well. The responsibilities and tribulations of raising a teenager had been quietly replaced by routines she’d thought long gone; wearing nappies and colourful covers, tucking him in and offering comfort as she once had when he was a toddler. It was as if time had momentarily reversed, allowing her to protect him again from a world that had grown increasingly complicated, hostile... and wet. It had all started out innocently enough, finding a way to stop a morning of wet pyjamas and bedding. She’d loved the suggestion of thick nappies and was keen to see her son back in them because it would be an instant cure. Not of him wetting but just how much and what was soaked each day. But Susan’s sense of pleasure was shadowed by guilt. She worried that her willingness to allow, even encourage, this regressive behaviour might have blinded her to the warning signs that something deeper was wrong. Perhaps, in her longing to preserve those fleeting moments of closeness, she had missed, or chosen to ignore, the subtle signals of trouble. Now, confronted with the reality of drugs in John’s system, her innocence felt complicit, and the simple joy she’d experienced was tainted with the realisation that her actions might have enabled something harmful. In essence, Susan was caught between the sweetness of nostalgia and the sharp sting of responsibility. Avril may well have given her son drugs to ease him into a regressive state but she was only now realising her own complicity in the project. Her emotions were a mixture of love, regret, and a desperate desire to make things right, even as she grappled with the dawning understanding of how complex, and dangerous, the situation had become. # “Sweetheart, we need to talk.” I knew it must be serious and wondered what the tests had shown... was I at death’s door or worse? “Mum, is everything alright?” I asked uneasily. “Erm, well, yes and no...” she looked like she was searching for the correct words. “The doctor found something strange in the blood test he carried out and I need you to understand that... well... erm... it’s nothing to blame yourself for.” That uneasy tingle swept right through my body and, not for the first time, I was glad I was wearing a nappy as my bladder released in nervous expectation. “You’ve been drugged!” She blurted out, which was unlike her as normally she’s so composed. “I think those dummies you’ve been given by Avril...” “The FruitiZuckers?” I enquired unnecessarily. “Yes, erm, have been laced with some kind of drug and, I’m sorry to say, seems to have made you...well... regress... mentally.” I wasn’t sure what she meant. I didn’t feel like I’d been regressed, I was just enjoying having fun. I mean, I hadn’t had a dummy for a couple of days now yet I still wet at night and was still wearing (thankfully) my nappy. I pointed this fact out. “Then there’s Terry, a friend who I’d never put down as a nappy-wearer and now appears not to want to see you... and I think that’s because he’s embarrassed by the entire recent episode of you two, sucking on dummies, wearing nappies, plastic pants and playing with your kiddie toys. His mum thinks it’s me that made him wear a nappy.” “But you changed him...” “Yes, well, that was my mistake...” mum seemed resigned at her involvement in the whole affair. “He asked for it and I let my judgement slip... I should have known better or at least been aware that something was wrong.” “So mum, are you saying that both of us have been drugged and as a result, all that we’ve been doing is because of that?” “I think so pet.” She looked at me with huge sad eyes (like Bruce’s when he thinks he’s in our bad books for some reason). “The doctor wasn’t sure... but as that is the only link I could see... but I’m taking them to the police to see what they think.” “THE POLICE?” my voice seemed to go up an octave in surprise, “Hell mum, do you think it’s that bad?” “I think so love and Avril is going to have a lot of questions to answer when she gets back.” # Things had taken a completely different turn and I wasn’t sure how to react. It was all so unbelievable and bizarre and just didn’t seem to be for the benefit of anyone but, well, me. I mean, despite my initial scepticism, I had grasped the entire concept of reviews for products and thoroughly enjoyed doing my bit. Okay, really enjoyed doing my bit and I’d loved throwing myself with gusto into using the Dreamtime merchandise. The idea that what all this had led to was soon to be a police matter was quite disconcerting. My nappy was awash with the amount of unexpected pee that had filled the damn thing... who knew where it was all coming from? I desperately needed a fresh one and suspected, also, a couple of extra stuffers. In spite of my needs, mum’s trip to the police station didn’t go too well and she was left trying to explain her part in all of this. She was interviewed for over an hour with suspicion falling on her rather than the pharmacist. Eventually, she found a senior police woman who took her concern seriously and so a case was open. Mum said all she received was an eleven digit number to use for reference and referral as things progressed or didn’t, whichever the case was. She was glad to get home but was annoyed about how things had developed. Anyway, it was in the hands of the law now so she could step back. However, the police wanted all the stuff I’d been given by Dreamtime to be packed up and sent as evidence. Dad must have had a premonition that was going to happen as the already filled bags were dropped off and we only kept the nappies, plastic pants, baby powder and such necessities... we said they were things we’d bought ourselves. Not all of that was true but I liked the thick nappies and most of the disposables and I did need them. # It felt weird that something that had seemed so innocent had suddenly become a ‘police matter’ and that got me thinking that maybe it had all been a bit of a con, although I wasn’t sure how or why. There was also the fact that now I felt like I’d been a guinea pig in some strange, and so far, unexplained experiment and what was worse, had everything I’d been doing contributed to my continued wetting? There was another question that I tried to avoid – Why had I been so keen to be involved and why did I just love all the products I’d been sent to review? Had my glowing and usually positive reviews made them experiment more with someone who was so easily persuaded? Had I in fact been drugged throughout all of this? # tbc #

S26 Ultra is the Premium Premium model with the best and newest stuff.  S26 and S26+ doesn't have the same camera as Ultra.  And.... S26 and S26+ in Europe has Exynos CPU, Ultra has Snapdragon. 

I recently upgraded my S22 for the S26 Ultra. I didn't need to, because my phone was fine, but I kept hearing from people I respect saying the camera on the S26 is next level amazing. I shoot videos for a living, so I use a dedicated camcorder. That camcorder cost me nearly $5k ten years ago. The S26 camera is the first phone camera that beats it in sheer video quality. For me, it was well worth the $1500 cost.

A very nice little cliffhanger. It'll be fun to see what happens to Videl!