Newbie Nursery

Hi everyone I am just wondering if there is anyone around the area that might be looking into catching up please let me know if your interested thanks 🙂

I’ve always wondered if anyone made ABDL diaper commercials in the style of the classic or campy style of Baby Diaper commercials…..    This may be old news, but I just discovered it.  

Awesome chapter, Les.   Love what you did with this one.  Everyone seems to be a bit more at ease with everything and Jason seems okay, for now at least...  nicely done. 

Part 5 I was really depressed. I had very little and that had now been taken away, and worse still, I now shared my bedroom with a couple of babies. I don’t know how she managed it but mum had really played her hand well, whilst I had no hand to play. I felt really down and utterly dejected. What made things even worse were the tears I shed. I couldn’t help it and I’m sure seeing a lad my age crying his eyes out over a bedroom and wet pants played into her hands. The thing was I could actually understand there was little choice if my brothers had turned against me, which I bet was her doing. They’d never said anything about my wetting before so I was a bit surprised they had... if they had? Needing to wear a nappy at night was a done deal as dad kept reminding me but the fact that whilst crying I’d also wet my pants had been quite a shock. I desperately tried to hide the stain but she just knew... that bloody woman knew. Nevertheless, if I could keep it from dad then I wouldn’t feel as bad. I really didn’t want him wondering what had happened to his teenage son and knowing I’d wet during the day, whether I had good reason or not, was just too much. It was important... despite everything dad was mine... I didn’t want him thinking any less of me. Regardless of arguing with him whilst putting forward my complaints I did respect dad’s decisions. I didn’t like them (well what did I like under the circumstances) but although he’d been very forthright in his answers and they were to my detriment, unlike Diane’s, I never thought he was being vindictive. Because of her I was already wearing a nappy whilst at home so desperately didn’t want to have to wear one for school as well. So far I’d got her to agree not to tell dad but fully aware I’d have to play ball to some extent though still be alert to the fact that she could change the rules at any time. I lay on the new changing table (dresser) and was cleaned me up. I didn’t want her to but I needed her silence on my wet undies so knew there’d be a price to pay. That payment, as in all things, was to do as I was told. I had surprisingly quickly come to terms with being changed into a nappy by her, and being fifteen and naked had been brushed of as something that didn’t matter – I wet my pants so in her eyes I was little more than a toddler. She enjoyed my continued embarrassment but I had nothing left in the armoury and could see if I continued on my course it would only get worse for me. I’m a reasonable person for heaven’s sake. I’m wearing a nappy after all and I doubt if there are many lads my age who would have allowed this to happen. I know I’d been reluctant at first but dad’s logic (and my unruly bladder) and I suppose Diane’s insistence that it was an easy and immediate way to contain the problem had seen my compliance. As I say, I doubt if many other teenagers would... hmmmm? There was no doubt that the main problem was my wetting and the sooner I could get over that the better. However, although the nightmares were not happening so frequently (but hadn’t stopped completely), my night time soaking was. The entire thing I found draining and overwhelming – the sudden wetting, the fact that I now wore nappies at my age made me feel less than a man, I wasn’t even sure what the fight with mum was about. I mean, I was fighting for something but had no idea what and as I pondered that stupid thought, my padding was gently absorbing my latest release. Now I’m wetting my pants during the day, and had been observed doing so, I fear something worse - though not sure if it will be because of mum, or something I do - and that’s causing me a great deal of anxiety. The circle continued. + On top of all this she told me about my pubes and indicated that for health reasons I needed to get rid of them. I’d been itching down there, and though begrudged having to do so, reckoned she was probably correct on this and wasn’t worth arguing over. Oddly enough, my acquiescence seemed to spark a more genteel approach in the way she spoke to me. For once she seemed reasonable and spoke as if she was saying and doing everything for my benefit. Had she changed tactics or had I unexpectedly stumbled onto something? The speed at which I submitted to her suggestion... was I being more reasonable? I had a sudden and unsettling thought; what if she was always being rational and I was the objectionable one? It had been argued on several occasions that this confrontation was all down to me... but then I just thought of her and her mates ganging up to humiliate me and thought again. She promised to get some cream for the elimination of my pubic hair so I’d sort it out myself when it arrived. Having said that I’ll probably be inspected afterwards to make sure it had been done correctly because I know she doesn’t think I’m capable. That’s why she always ‘supervises’ nappy changes. That’s one of the problems I have, I make mistakes, say something wrong and she’s very clever at inflating those moments to my detriment. She knows exactly what to say and how to say it so I look to be the problem, which she is just trying her best to solve and it’s my stubbornness and ingratitude that makes things worse. Early on, when I was first put into night time protection I said if I had to wear a nappy then I’d do it myself. Now we don’t use disposables in our house so she said that as it was fabric she’d do it. She pointed out that with the twins she had plenty of practice and as a result was quick and capable. I still complained but both her and dad came up with a solution – if I could change the twins nappies, and fit them perfectly, they’d let me do my own. However, I was so nervous I made such a pig’s ear of it so as a result lost my independence and now I’m not supervised, I’m physically changed. Every time she sighs as if she’s being put upon and has even more work, she really does love the fact that she’s in charge and I’m just like my baby brother and sister. “C’mon let’s get this done,” she’d be all business-like, as if doing me a favour. “This isn’t something I enjoy so...” But I knew it was something she took great pleasure in because I was at her mercy and she knew it. Unfortunately, so did I. Sometimes, if dad’s not there, she coos at me like she does the twins offering up baby-talk and whispered encouragement about being a ‘good boy’. She makes a big deal out of folding a fresh nappy – saying how nice and soft  it’s going to feel and how happy I’ll be once she’s pinned it on over my “sweet little pee-pee”. I know she’s doing it to get a rise out of me and of course she does. So, when I do react I’m seen as the petty one and as I’m wearing a nappy my reactions are described as being a childish strop. I don’t know how she’s done it but I get the impression that dad doesn’t see me as a teenager any more. I suppose, because he always seems to be busy working and hardly sees us, when he does, I’m wearing a nappy and she’s telling him of my failings, well, what else is he going to think? + However, now my room, our room, is full of babies and baby stuff I have to realise that it’s not the twin’s fault I wet but my leaky bladder. Even their monitor that plays sound effects and heartbeats has a soothing quality that I’m not averse to. In fact, the twins are not a problem. Despite wearing a nappy at night and getting a decent night’s sleep I can’t pretend that I’ve not had more than a few near misses during the day. I never know what she has planned next and that’s not helping my anxiety. Now mum has seen the actual evidence I need to act differently around her. That got me thinking about me and my attitude. So, now we’re on a slightly more ‘sociable’ level she’d asked for a favour, which is a first - to voluntarily get ready for bed early so she didn’t have to fix my nappy twice. I had to hold my tongue because I didn’t like it but pretended I didn’t mind, after all, she held all the cards. It was really quite eerie because as she was doing it this time the experience felt different. Because I hadn’t put up a fight or acted begrudgingly, erm, I can’t quite explain it except... yes... that was it, the resentment I normally had for her involvement in this ‘operation’ had somehow faded. Instead of fussing and wriggling about I let her just get on with it. I’m not sure if I was imagining it but she was taking her time and being thorough but gentle. It was like experiencing having a nappy changed for the first time... but I was relaxed and amazingly it felt comfortable. What I wasn’t banking on was that she made the damn thing even thicker than normal by adding extra soaker pads. She said that was because I was wetting so much so with thicker padding I wouldn’t need to be changed as often. I could understand that but I didn’t like it... except once it was on it felt terrific. The plastic pants looked huge but then she patted my bulky bum as if we were now mates and asked me to take Alfie downstairs and put him in the playpen with Jane. At that moment I realised that we were both dressed the same but that too was nice - in an amusing sort of way. The thing is, even though it’s only been a few days since the twins were moved into my room and I’m spending so much time in their company, my bitterness has lessened. In fact I’d go as far as to say that I love having them with me. All the things I thought I’d hate have disappeared and I’m much more involved in what they do. You’d think I’d have nothing in common with a couple of little babies, well apart from our mutual need for nappies, but I like that I’m able to comfort them. I even like the music that their electronic mobile cum monitor makes to help send them off to sleep. There’s something childishly innocent about hearing the soft music and heartbeat as Jane and Alfie settle down... it settles me too. Anyway, before I did anything else, and it seemed like an afterthought, mum grabbed a pale blue Babygro off the shelf and slipped Alfie into it. Again, he giggled through the process and once it was snapped between his little legs, he looked really happy and comfy. “You know,” said mum as she straightened it around him, “you could do with a couple of these.” I pulled a face – a nappy and a Babygro – I don’t think so. “They’d keep your nappies up and smooth down the bulk. People would hardly notice you were wearing any padding at all.” Erm, was she really hinting that I should wear one as well? She faffed about as Alfie sat on the floor, tidying a few bits and pieces and straightening out the cot’s bedding, and then said when I’m ready could I take Alfie down stairs whilst she got on with other things. I thought at first she meant for me to go down as I was but thankfully didn’t object when I slipped up a pair of fleecy shorts to hide the bulk. However, I had to agree with her, Alfie’s nappy did look nicely contained in the Babygro. He was giggling round his dummy as I picked him up and patted his nappy and carried him to join his sister. It’s the same with Jane, if she crawls over to me or I’m just playing with her (I may have been a bit resentful but I’m not a monster) I always pat her padded little bum. I wonder if it’s something about nappies that make everyone do that. Even at my age both mum and dad always pat my padded bum when they’ve finished putting me in a nappy. Now, though I may not like having to wear one, that little patting action is quite reassuring – strange or what? + For the first time in what seemed like ages the following morning I didn’t wake up wet. The thicker padding had somehow kept my bladder from leaking and my general demeanour was fairly positive. Although I knew it was a one off, I began to think maybe I’d turned some kind of psychological corner and my dripping cock might become a thing of the past. Of course, when Diane came in to change me, despite her words of pleasure and encouragement, I detected her disappointment at not having to do the job she so ‘hated’. However, she simply said that, as it wasn’t wet I might as well keep it on until it was which happened later in the day. Wondering around the house wearing such a bulky item wasn’t something I wanted anyone else seeing but it felt better wearing just that than trying to hide it all under jeans or shorts. Still, this was a good sign, or at least I hoped it was? My brothers took the opportunity to pat my excess padding every time we passed each other. They didn’t say much although Richard always looked a little appalled, whilst Will just gave a little giggle. I suspect dad, or mum (though I doubt that) might have told them to be ‘understanding’ about my situation and being nice kids... and the fact I’m bigger than them, they just accepted what was happening to me. Waking up dry occurred a further two mornings but then being kept in the thick nappy until it was wet was a downer. I had hoped to be able to return to wearing briefs but mummy, erm, mum said it was too soon to take that chance but was sure I’d be out of the ‘nappy business’ in next to no time. + Now I’d become ‘more amenable’ and less argumentative towards mum (I know she’d have loved it if I, like my brothers, still called her mummy) the atmosphere in the house changed. However, despite trying my best to be ‘nice’ some things didn’t change. I was still subject to regular nappy inspections, still talked to as if I was a child, especially if her mates were around. Nevertheless, because I was seen as cooperating, she was less on my case and more ‘asking’ than ‘demanding’. Something else that happened when I stopped fighting back so much, I didn’t find helping my brothers as annoying either... in fact, I was finding a lot less things annoying. As I’ve said, over time and sharing a room with a couple of babies was weird but unpredictably I’d soon got used to the sounds, sights and smells of their little lives (whether they got used to mine is another thing). There was something about these sweet, defenceless little individuals who we all functioned around. I hadn’t appreciated before just how much they needed our love, attention or protection and was surprised just how much I was prepared to give. If one of them got a bit upset in the night it was often me who picked them up and walked around trying to quieten the little mite down. Even more surprising I was quite good at it, which elicited a deal of praise from dad and that pleased me no end - I wanted that approval. Often, when he and Diane came to bed they’d pop in to check on the babies and at the same time check I was okay as well. To be half asleep and realising its dad whose checking your nappy to make sure you’re not too wet, or brushing hair off your forehead before whispering to “sleep tight”... was something I didn’t realise just how much, even at my age, I’d missed. Dad hadn’t really said anything like that to me for ages and I’d missed that connection... and I craved more of it. Even Diane was impressed when she saw me in the morning parading around the bedroom in my soaked nappy, which was dragging down the back of my plastic pants, whilst “shushing” and gently speaking to whichever one was being fussy. Often, no sooner had I got one settled than the other started up and I’d have to go through the whole rigmarole again. The thing was I had a soft spot for the sweet little things. They had a sort of giggle that was so endearing I wanted to get that every time I picked them up or we played together. It was quite something to realise I had this affinity with them and it was a connection I relished. I wasn’t sure how or why this came about except it started when we were moved in together. I had no option but to take notice and in doing so I’ve become obsessed with being involved in their lives. They have softened my approach to things... maybe that’s why I’m more disposed towards Diane... or possibly, I’m simply living my life through them? Oh, and another thing happened, I started waking up wet again but for some reason didn’t mind. Nappies, wet or dry, were what my underwear now consisted of so there was little point in getting upset if they were either... umm... maybe I was only just realising how much I wanted, erm, I mean... needed them. + On one occasion I was trying to get Jane to take her dummy but she wasn’t having it, which was unusual itself, so I was alternating between popping it in between my lips and then offering it to her. Hoping now at nine months old that she would want what I had and demand its return. Well, I wasn’t aware that I was being observed by both Richard and William who seeing me with a dummy in my mouth were convinced I was turning into a baby (well I was wearing quite thick padding at the time). It felt really strange at the dinner table that night when they asked mummy if I was now a baby like the twins. When she asked for clarification and they explained what they saw, I blushed and was lost for words. “Your brother should have used a dummy many months ago and we’d all be better off...” her expression said that it would have stopped my argumentativeness but then smiled most agreeably. “But the answer is ‘No’, your brother isn’t turning into a baby he’s just being very helpful at a time of stress for mummy. We should all be grateful for what he’s doing.” Again, praise that I wasn’t expecting sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine and as well as a brief spurt of warm pee into my nappy, I also felt the warmth of appreciation. My brothers didn’t seem happy with their nappy-wearing brother getting praise when they thought to embarrass me but I had a comeback. “Mum, don’t you think it’s time to put these two back into nappies for a while... they seem to like spying on me wearing mine... perhaps they really want to wear them as well?” I can’t pretend this was a new thought. When I was put into night time nappies to begin with I hated that those two were fine. I wanted the repercussions of my sins visited on them as well but of course it was just me and... well... I felt bitter about it. Both their jaws dropped as they saw mum look like she was actually contemplating the idea then looking over at dad who raised his eyebrows. They looked guiltily at their food, not daring to catch either mum or dad’s eye but dad just left it with a “Hmmmmm” as if he too thought it might be a good idea. We didn’t hear a peep out of the worried boys for the rest of the night. + tbc+

me too I want the same thing to be done to me too