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Ann And Joe Learn Joe's Rightful Place Chapter 7 While Joe was busy with his trains and farm animals, Ann was enjoying cooking, one of her favourite pastimes. She was trying a new dish, but was short of a couple of essential ingredients. That meant a quick trip to Rose's kitche, but Rose was also without the slightly exotic makings for Ann's French dish. 'Joe,' said Ann on her return from next door. 'Will you be OK here for a few minutes? I have to go to the supermarket. I won't be long.' Joe looked up. 'Yep, I'll be OK,' he said. 'Won't be long,' repeated Ann. 'And honey, go to the bathroom if you have to. Don't leave it too long.' 'Yes, Ann. That was an accident,' said Joe crossly. 'I now, honey. I'm just reminding you,' said Ann, now at the back door. 'OK,' said Joe. 'I don't need reminding.' 'Alright, sweetie,' said Ann. 'Have fun.' 'Bye,' said Joe, and went back to his train. Ann was soon at the supermarket, happily investigating the spice section. Ann usually dressed fashionably, if a little preppily, and was wearing tight designer jeans, low heeled shoes and a neat cream blouse under her thin sweater. The outfitted suited her tall but full figure. In the supermarket aisle, Ann passed a mom and her daughter. Ann particularly noticed them because the daughter was wearing yellow shortall's very similar to Joe's. The daughter, who was about eight or nine, looked sweet with her blonde pony tail and yellow ribbon matching her clothing. She was wearing red sneakers, and she held her mother's hand. Ann smiled as she watched them. The mother was dressed much more casually than Ann. She was wearing blue track pants and a loose wind cheater. Maybe I overdress, thought Ann. It wasn't a normal thought for Ann, whose usual casual attire wasn't much less busisnessliek than her work outfits of grey slacks and blouses. Sometimes, Ann set off her business clothes with a tie, jacket and shiny black shoes. Her work shoes were invariably heels, though. Ann was quite tall for a woman, and she liked the feeling of height even low heels gave her amongst the men in her office. It made her as tall as most of them, and even taller than some. Nevertheless, Ann thought, the mom she saw looked relaxed and comfortable. While Ann was shopping, Joe was feeling hungry. He looked towards the kitchen, and the big double fridge full of nice things to eat. In his head, he could hear Ann's instructions to stay out of the kitchen. Joe stopped pushing his train, and thought for a moment. She really meant don't do anything in the kitchen, he told himself, not just don't get a bit to eat from the fridge. Happy with his logic, Joe parked his train and stood up. Standing accentuated the firm way the shortalls contained his slightly chubby body, especially around his tummy, backside and hips. It wasn't a bad feeling, thought Joe. Joe felt a little guilty as he opened the fridge, but dismissed the feeling. He saw a container of orange jiuce, and carefully took it from the shelf and put it on the bench. Tehn he found a glass and poured himself a drink. He smiled as he stood looking back into the living room, drinking the juice. Ha, he thought as he half drained the glass and put it down on the bench. 'Not a drop spilled,' he said proudly, aloud. As he was putting the juice container back in the fridge, he noticed a tray of one of Ann's specialties - banana caramel cream tart. Joe licked his lips. They'd had some a couple of nights ago, so the tart was already missing a large sector. He could slice off a sliver, thought Joe. Carefully, he reached into the fridge and withdrew the tray. He carried it to the kitchen bench, and all would have been well if he'd remembered the half glass of orange juice there. Joe stared at the mess of caramel cream, orange juice and shattered glass on the floor. In his attempt to catch the falling tray, Joe had coated the front of his shortalls with the creamy mess as well. He held his breath, then took a few deep gasps. Thoughts raced through his head, none of them good. He wasn't sure whether to try to clean his clothes first or the floor. It didn't matter, anyway, as Ann was due back any time. There was absolutely no excuse he could give her. He literally didn't know what to do. Joe stood stock still, breathing deeply. His position was hopeless, and he began to cry. He couldn't help it and he didn't care. He felt simultaneously guilty, upset and even scared of what Ann would say when she got back. That thought really did scare Joe, and this time he felt the warm pee filling the thin padding in his pants and coursing down his legs. He looked helplessly towards the back door, thn his legs gave way, and he sat on tghe floor. He leant forward and tried to scopp some of the mess into a pile, then felt the glass in the goo and didn't want to touch it. Joe was sitting on the floor crying when Ann returned. To say she was cross was an understatement. Joe found himself standing in the corner of the kitchen trying to stifle his sobs, his back to Ann as she cleaned up the disaster before she 'dealt with' Joe. Ann grasped Joe's hand and led him to the bathroom. She stripped him off and ordered him to put his clothes in the washing machine. Joe returned to the bedroom, and stood naked, crying and fearful in front of Ann who was seated on the bed. She delivered a short, angry lecture on obedience and being grown up enough to be left in the house alone. When she finished, Ann looked hard at Joe. 'Joe,' she said, 'I'm sorry, but you have to learn that misbehaviour has consequences. Over here please.' Joe stepped closer to Ann. She took him firmly by the arm and bent him over her thighs. 'I hope you renember this, Joe,' Ann said as she brough her hand down hard on his bare bottom. She gave Joe a dozen solid whacks, by which time Joe was bawling uncontrollably. Once she'd finished, Ann dressed Joe in fresh traivers, shorts and a tee shirt before sitting him back on the floor in the living room, at the other end from his toys. Ann finished cleaning up the kitchen, then rang Rose. Ann explained that she'd had some problems with Joee, and needed her help. A few minutes later, Ann arrived at Rose's back door, with Joe firmly in tow. She sat Joe, disgraced and sniffling, on a chair in Rose's kitchen while she explained what had happened. 'Joe!' said Rose, genuinely shocked at his behaviour. '...completely wet,' Ann finished telling Rose what she found on her return from shopping. 'So I'm going to need your help with something for Joe.' 'In the spare bedroom,' replied Rose, leading the way. Ann took Joe by the hand and they followed. With Joe sitting on the bed in the room, Rose explained to Ann what the best solution would be. Joe sat silently now, but frightened of what was about to happen. His fear were realised whn Rose produced from a cupboard a thick, white item and a folded square of plastic. 'Joe,' said Ann, 'You've had your punishment for making a mess in the kitchen, but I am really unhappy about your irresponsible wetting. I know you were upset, but I do expect you to have more control. I put you in those training pants, but you don't seem to have got the message. There have just been too many wet undies, apart from the latest incidents. And I don't want excuses like 'I was busy' and I don't want any complaints about this. You will wear what you need to wear until I decide that you're grown up enough to back into trainers.' 'They're not training pants!' Joe objected. 'You said...' 'Joe, be quiet,' said Ann. 'I don't want to hear it. Now stand up please.' Rose watched with interest as Ann udressed Joe. As she suspected, Joe was not well endowed. Whether it was the cool day, or Joe's state of mind, there really wasn't much to see. Joe's penis looked quite insignificant sitting above the wrinkled roundess of his dark pink little scrotum. Rose thought that even some of her daycare boys had more between their legs than Joe. She wondered about Joe and Ann's sex life, then tried to turn her thoughts to the job in hand. 'These should do,' said Rose. 'They're very absorbent, and easy to put on with tabs each side.' 'OK, Joe,' said Ann. 'You're going to be back in diapers for a little while. I know you won't be happy about it, but I want you to think why this has happened. I'm trying to look after you, Joe, but as I said, actions have consequences, and this is the result of your childish behaviour.' Joe wanted to explain to Ann that he was supposed to be looking after her, but he could not hold back the tears at his predicament, and continued crying as Ann lay him back on the bed, and Rose demonstrated how the thick diaper was fitted to Joe's hips. 'It's OK, Joe,' said Rose reassurinlgy, as Joe looked wide-eyed at her through his tears. 'I've diapered lots of girls and boys in my time.' Joe had never felt more helpless and embarrassed. He took a deep breath, and bawled his discomfort. 'Joe, please,' said Ann, looking apologetically at Rose. 'Ann, can you do the other side?' asked Rose, indicating to Ann that she should take over. 'I've got something here that might help.' Rose went to a drawer, and returned with a large pacifier. Ann had just tucked Joe's penis and balls down in the front of the diaper and attached the last tapes. She stared at the pacifier. 'I bought it from one of the diaper suppliers,' Rose said. 'I use it with some of the older children if they get really fractious.' Joe was more worried about being diapered than watching what Rose was doing. Joe had his mouth open and his eyes shut when Rose plopped the pacifier between his lips. Joe spluttered a bit, but stopped crying. His eyes widened again when he realised what was in his mouth. He tried to remove it, but Ann held it in place. 'Uh uh, Joe' she said. 'That stays in. OK? Now calm down and stop crying. You're not hurt. You're just being dressed in what you need, honey. OK?' Joe was indeed quiet. The women looked at each other as Joe actually began to suck on the pacifier. Rose smiled at Ann. Joe didn't like crying It only happened when he couldn't help it. He was shocked by the pacifier being thrust into his mouth, he quickly descovered that it wasn't a bad feeling to have something soft to suck on. He closed his eyes and sucked, feeling a little peaceful at last after the torrid morning. Joe was glad Rose suggested that Joe have a sleep while she and Ann had a cup of cofffee in the kitchen. In the kitchen, Ann was interested to hear Rose's advice for Joe, based on her experiences with her own children. Joe wasn't a child of course, Ann thought, but the information about rashes etc was useful. Some time later, Ann woke Joe who seemed quite calm. They walked home together, Ann carrying a bag with some spare diapers, talc and other items. Joe still had the pacifier in his mouth. No one had asked him to take it out, and he was happy to keep it there as long as no one saw him. The bulky diaper unner his pale blue, elastic waisted shorts didn't feel too much different from his padded panties and shortalls. As they arrived home, Ann gave Joe a squeeze. 'See how nice you can be, darling?' she said. 'If you just behave. You can go back to your train. Let me know if you need to go to the bathroom, and I'll take you. I don't want you messing with those tapes. And don't forget. The diaper is just in case and to remind you of the consequences of what you do. OK, baby? I love you,' concluded Ann and gave Joe a warm hug. 'I love you too,' said Joe, then eagerly went back to his toys. Ann smiled. A day that had started as a total disaster had ended with her enjoying the strange warm feelings that both scared and intrigued her. Talking with Rose had allowed her to realise what the feelings were. They were motherly. As Rose said, the feelings were nothing to worry about. They were the privilege of every woman. That women without children could find those feelings in other ways, was a blessing, not a concern. That some men were really little boys was not a concern either. It meant that childless women and immature men were really made for each other. Ann gave in to the special feelings and smiled again at her thickly diapered husband sucking his pacifier and playing with his trains and plastic animals. The end.

(3) This can’t be good Geneva was lost in thought. A baby singer. That was so far over the edge that she found she could hardly imagine it, but Naomi was certainly right that it was about as high concept as you could get. There were other girls on YouTube, girls in their twenties, whose personas were pristine, doll-like creatures who could be any age from 13 to 16; she’d seen them. This would just be a comparable age drop, right? But it was such a strange idea. “I don’t know, Naomi,” she said. “I mean it makes sense in the abstract, as a concept, but I don’t know if I could do it.” “Oh come on,” said Naomi. “You said it felt good to pretend to be little; well, this is just pretending to be really little.” Geneva looked carefully at her friend. There was something about Naomi all of a sudden that suggested that she was not revealing absolutely everything about this new plan, and Geneva wanted to know why. “What exactly are you picturing, Naomi?” Naomi smiled. “OK. Don’t react.” “This can’t be good.” “That was a reaction. Now listen: You would wear considerable makeup so we can hide who you are. Your hair would be in pigtails, with maybe a bow. Your clothing would be a really adorable toddler-style dress, ankle socks, and Mary Janes. And you’d be very clearly wearing a diaper along with rhumba panties.” Geneva startled at that, and Naomi held up her hand. “Of course what you wear would vary from video to video, but that’s the basic vein.” Geneva counted to ten. “You are nuts.” “No, I’m being perfectly serious. You could talk to your public in a babyish lisp, maybe, but you’d sing in your absolutely glorious 17-year-old voice, maybe with a small tweak to hide your identity. And you’d do some kind of signature sign-off at the end that takes it back to your persona. I think you could be a megahit.” Her eyes closed, Geneva tried to picture it, but every time she got to the costume the internal video went all fuzzy. “Where could you even find clothing like that? I may be small, but I don’t fit into Toddler sizes.” This was the part that Naomi had dreaded, but she was asking her friend to accept a huge risk, so she felt it was only fair for her to accept one as well. OK, she thought, here goes. “I have some,” she said. Geneva was beginning to think she was lost in a really bonkers dream. What did her best friend just say? “I said I have some,” Naomi repeated. “Yeah,” said Geneva. “That’s what I thought you said. I don’t understand.” Naomi went on. “I’m really trusting you with this, Genny. No one, and I mean no one, knows about this. You are absolutely the first.” “What are you talking about?” “There are some people who are like you, who enjoy shedding responsibility by pretending to be younger, but we take it a lot further." She hesitated before going on, as if unsure what her next words should be. "To feel the full release of stress," she continued, "we need to try to remind ourselves what it was like to be as young as... toddlers... or even babies." She waited for some reaction from her friend, but Geneva just stood there as if she had not understood, so Naomi added, "As a group, we’re called Littles.” Geneva blankly repeated the word. “Littles.” “Please don’t judge me, Genny. I’m praying you don’t judge me. It’s just a part of me that I can’t change, like being gay.” “But you don’t share it.” “I do...but not in real life.” Geneva paused to absorb that. “You mean online.” Naomi nodded. “Yes, There are several communities where I hang out." She found herself suddenly racing as if her life depended on getting an explanation out. "I actually enjoy playing both toddler and caregiver. That’s the one who takes care of the baby; I think that’s why I love babysitting so much, though in all honesty part of me is also jealous of the kids.” Again the table was silent for an uncomfortably long time, but finally Geneva spoke. “So let me see if I understand all of this, OK?” Naomi drew a deep breath. “Shoot,” she said. “You say that you are a Little.” “Yes.” “And that means that sometimes you like to pretend to be as young as a toddler or baby?” Naomi smiled. Still speaking far too swiftly, she said, “Well, in my case, my ‘Little” is three. So I pretend I’m three.” “But others are different?” “Sure. Some kids like being infants. Some just regress to first or second grade. It varies.” Geneva’s expression shifted again and Naomi saw her looking once again into the distance, at nothing in particular. “What is it?? “Oh,” she replied. “Nothing. Just that...infants? I mean they can’t do anything.” Naomi laughed. “I think that’s the point. They need someone to do everything for them." She realized she was speaking more normally now. Geneva's questioning must have loosened the knots in her mind. "I don’t really think it’s possible to do that successfully, or at least fully, without a caregiver.” “Which you also like to be.” “Right. But I’ve never had the guts to meet someone from this world in person, so it’s a sort of theoretical desire.” “Of course. But you actually do the rest?” “Yes. Privately. In my room. And occasionally when no one is home I use the whole house.” Geneva looked at Naomi more carefully than she ever had before. Maybe she had never really seen her friend before. Surely Naomi was opening herself up in a completely new way that, she thought, might forever alter their relationship. Could she think of her friend the same way now that she knew this? “How?” she asked. Naomi paused. Honesty. “I...dress in my baby clothes and diapers, suck on a pacifier, drink from a bottle. Stuff like that.” It was exactly what Geneva had been thinking. How can we be the same now? How is it even possible? “Do you...use...the diapers?” Naomi wasn’t sure she wanted to answer that, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “Sometimes,” she said. “Just wetting, though. I don’t like messing them.” “No,” Geneva said. “No, that would be, um, messy.” “Oh, God,” Naomi suddenly said. “You think it’s too weird.” “No, no!” Geneva protested. “Weird, yes. I’m trying to process. Let me process.” I’ve gone too far, Naomi thought. She’d always been terrified of anyone finding out for precisely this reason. If anyone could handle it, Genny would be the one, though, and she’d been so sure she’d read the situation and the signs right today. What if I was wrong? I could lose her forever. She didn’t have any fear that Genny would ever tell anyone; she wasn’t that kind of person. But her world without her best friend in it would be so...empty. Why had she even started that stupid YouTube conversation? Damn that TimTom! It was all his fault. “Nay?” “Yeah?” “It really is pretty weird, isn’t it?” Naomi smiled tentatively. “I guess it is. But is it too weird?” There was a brief silence, and then Geneva smiled. And then she laughed quietly. “What?” Naomi asked nervously. “It’s just that I seem to be learning a whole lot in the last couple of days about things I never knew existed. It’s as if I’ve lived 17 years with blinders on.” “Maybe you have,” Naomi said, breathing more calmly and realizing only then that she’d been breathing oddly before, some combination of holding her breath and hyperventilation that only she could accomplish. “Well, if I’m supposed to take them off now, I’ll need to learn a lot more.” Naomi looked cautiously at her friend. “So you don’t think I’m strange?” “Of course I think you’re strange. But we’ve already covered the fact that you think I’m kind of strange as well. You seem to think I’m the kind of strange who can join your little party and wear your baby clothes to sing on YouTube. And I think I just might be strange enough to give it a shot. So I guess we’re a couple of odd ducks. Come on, Naomi. Let’s go to your house so you can show me all of this stuff. This odd duck feels like doing some swimming.”

@bbykimmy, I was so taken with your Keeperverse universe that I had to go off and write this down. I realize I am committing something of a faux pas in posting this first before asking permission to invade your universe, but I hope to ask forgiveness? If you'd like me to modify this in any way for consistency with the universe in your mind, or even remove it altogether, I will happily do so. -- Karen and I held hands as we checked once more around the our apartment rooms, now empty after a year and a half. Everything had been shipped to our new home in California. We took our suitcases that we’d be living out of for a few days, and went to the common area, finding Angie and JoJo waiting for us. Angie came over to us, JoJo close behind on her leash. “Congratulations you guys,” Angie said, giving us hugs, which we returned with feeling. I knelt down to talk to JoJo, reaching out to scratch her behind her ear, which she loved. “I’m going to miss you, girl. We’ve had a lot of good times together.” JoJo laid her head against me. She had tears in her eyes. Karen and I had not known Angie and JoJo when we found ourselves bidding for the same spacious three-bedroom apartment, and instead of competing had decided to just live together. It had worked very well, and Karen and Angie had become very close friends, while JoJo and I got along very well. JoJo had gone through a rough time after being Bound… I mean, she had been a successful and intelligent young woman, a senior studying engineering at the prestigious university we went to, when one day she had been buying groceries and looked into the eyes of Angie, a junior at the same university. It was instantly clear that she had found her Keeper. She didn’t take quickly to her new life, though, and for most of the last 18 months we’d known them JoJo had been struggling to adjust to her role as Pet. At first, I wasn’t sure how to relate to a Pet, not having grown up with one, but over time we grew close and had many talks, cries, and cuddles together. Since Angie happened to work at the local Pets*R*Us, she had pulled us in to many of the classes she taught (“I get paid based on how many people attend, so get your butts over here”) and both Karen and I had gotten a very good education in how to care for a Pet. I certainly didn’t have the same Bond that Angie had with her as her Keeper, of course, but I was happy that we had become good friends and confidants, and was quite knowledgeable about her needs and how to care for her. At this point, I sensed that she just needed to be held, so I held her, patting her lightly on her diaper-covered bottom in a way that I knew she found comforting. “You’re a little wet… want me to change you?” She shook her head, just enjoying being held. “You’re working tomorrow, right?” Karen was still talking to Angie. “Yup, 10 to 4. Maybe you can drop by after your graduation, for one last good-bye?” Karen smiled. The Pets-R-Us where Angie worked was only a block away from the hall we’d be graduating in. “I’ll try. But, just in case…” She hugged Angie one more time. “Thanks for everything, Karen.” Hug. “And you Jeff. Take care of her, alright?” Hug. A last round of hugs all around, and we left our apartment for the last time, trying to keep our emotions in check. ** It was a big weekend. We were moving out of our apartment, and the next step was to go meet her parents at the hotel. Then, tomorrow, we would graduate in the morning and head back to California, where we both had jobs waiting in the same city where she had grown up. This was probably the biggest set of changes I’d ever made in my life, and everything in 24 hours. We made it to the hotel, only to get a text from Karen’s father that their plane was delayed, and they weren’t going to make it to the hotel for dinner. Maybe drinks later in the evening. So, we headed out to a local Thai food joint that had been our favorite for one last meal and some “us-time”. While we enjoyed the food, we chatted about the usual things couples that have been together for a while talk about, especially when there are these major life changes going on. Schedules, money, plans, and priorities all got covered. When we had finished those topics, Karen brought up the next one. “So… are you going to ask me to marry you tonight? I mean, you don’t have to tell me… and I don’t know what your plans are… but I’d suggest holding off, if you were thinking about it… with my parents coming in late I’m not sure it would be the right thing to do right after meeting them for the first time.” She smiled her wonderful smile. I laughed. It was not in the least a secret to anyone that knew us that we would be getting married, the question had been when. All I had said was that I would ask her after school was over, and after I met her parents in person. “No, it wasn’t going to be tonight. If you have to know, I was going to wait until we were back in California with your friends and family, and make you say ‘yes’ in front of them.” She smiled, and reached for my hand. “You better not wait too long, or I’ll ask you first.” She clearly was the more dominant one in our relationship. She got what she wanted, including for example having chosen the city we’d live in. Not that I had any problems with going along with her decisions, but every once in a while I made a point of asserting myself, just to confirm our equality in the relationship. Choosing when we got engaged was one of those things, and so far she was OK with my taking the lead on that. We finished up, and while waiting for her parents to arrive took one last walk through the city we had grown to love during our time here in school. It was a warm evening in late May, and we wandered though the central square, watching the evening joggers and Keepers walking their Pets mingle with the growing stream of people headed to the local bars. Just as we considered having a night cap, Karen’s phone lit up. “Mom and Dad made it to the hotel.” ** “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Buxton.” I had talked to them many times on Skype, but this was the first time I had been able to shake their hands. Or, at least, try to shake their hands. Both of them pulled me into fierce bear hugs. Well, at least I seemed to be stepping off on the right foot. “Jeff, we’ve talked about this. You don’t need to call us Mr. Call me Joe, or Dad, or Pops, or ‘hey you’, but not Mr, OK?” “And I’m Valerie, not Mrs. OK?” “Ok, Joe and Valerie, thanks." “How about a drink at the bar?” We quickly agreed on a nice single malt scotch for Karen, Joe, and myself, and a white wine for Valerie. I looked around. “Did Jennifer make it?” Jennifer was Karen’s sister, two years younger. “I thought she was coming as well?” Karen’s mother replied, “She made it… she's upstairs in the room getting ready for bed. She was really tired after the trip, so she said she’d see you tomorrow.” We talked about the weather, the local sports and how they weren’t as good as the California teams back home, the plans for graduation tomorrow, and plans for when we went back to California. We’d be staying with them for two week while we waited for the apartment we had rented to become available at the beginning of next month. Finally, the scotch had kicked in enough. “So, Joe and Valerie,” I said, a little nervously. Karen looked at me. “Not that I’m going to do anything tonight,” I added looking at Karen to reassure her that what I had said before was still the plan, “but sometime in the near future I’d like to ask your daughter if she’d be willing to marry me. I’d like make sure that you wouldn’t object before I ask her.” Her mom and dad’s faces lit up in shear joy. I somehow found myself in a bear hug again. Joe was exuberant. “Of course, of course, of course!” Valerie was a little more circumspect. “It’s about time…” Of course, that called for another round of drinks, but soon we were on our way back to our rooms, where Karen and I celebrated what we both saw as the end of the start of our lives in a way that only a happy couple can. ** The graduation was fun, and not as long as it could have been. Being that we were both a part of a small college within the larger university, we were in a small hall, more intimate than the stadium that the engineering school was doing their ceremony in. After the many speeches, well-wishes, and ceremonial pomp, I finally got to walk over to my favorite professor, get a hug, and receive my diploma. Waiting at the end of the stage for me was Karen, and we hugged. It was a proud moment for both of us. We went back to our seats and waited for the rest of the class to finish, which seemed to take forever when we wanted to get along with our lives. Soon though, the recessional played and we were milling around the outside of the hall in the reception area, competing for scarce bandwidth as everyone tried to call someone, locate someone, or share pictures. My bladder was burst so we made a quick restroom stop. Finally, Karen got a message that her parents were over by the stairs, and we managed to find them. Quick hugs of congratulations from her mom and dad, and then Karen pulled me over. “Jenn, this is Jeff. Jeff, Jenn.” My world stopped. She was beautiful. She was wonderful. Her eyes… her green eyes… and her hair, and her face and her body. Everything seemed paused. Only she existed. I saw a realization in her face. Her eyes opened wider. Suddenly I knew. The realization must have been on my face as well. So this is what it was like? The Bond? I’ve heard many people describe it, including talking to Angie and JoJo at length, but… words couldn't describe it. It was amazing. It was clearly so much more than Love that a couple shared. It was… a Bond. I heard faintly, in the distance, someone yelling “No No No No You can’t do this No No No Not Her Not You Not Now Noooooooo”, but it wasn’t the face I was staring at, so it didn’t matter. I felt someone hitting my arm, and hitting Jennifer’s arm, but it didn’t matter. Something was trying to pull us apart, though, and that did matter. I pushed it away, and it stumbled backwards. The pulling and hitting stopped. I could smell her. I could see her so clearly. “Hello, my Pet.” **

Part 11 With a warm nappy, and absolute confidence in the plastic pants auntie had chosen for me that morning, I carried on as if nothing had happened. The longer shorts and dark material of the suit also gave me confidence. Even with the occasional mocking snicker from a younger kid dressed in jeans or trousers I wasn’t bothered. I knew they couldn’t see what I was wearing under my shorts so I had no reason to feel guilty about it. I felt like yelling at them “Well I’m wearing a soaked nappy but you can’t tell” but that would be both pointless and stupid. # After a very pleasant day looking around Henningsbrough Hall, auntie said we should head back home. I think by then she’d tumbled I was wet but didn’t mention it. “Well sweetheart, that was a lovely experience and I think you were a hit with the tour guide.” I smiled modestly, I’d never been that forward in my life, asking questions to an adult and getting such clear and definite responses. “And,” she added, “you looked splendid in your suit... it really does suit you.” She laughed at her own feeble joke. # Once we were back in the pleasant warmth of her home, auntie suggested with a knowing nod that I change. She said to leave the shirt out to be washed as apparently I’d spilt a little of my lunch on the collar and to leave the suit for her to check and press. “I’ll be up in a minute sweetheart.” She didn’t need to say anything further because I knew she meant that she’d be up to supervise my clean up and change. Standing in the bathroom naked auntie joined me a few minutes later. She sponged me down, dried me off and lavished a great deal of anti-rash cream around my shrunken willy. “I do wish you’d tell me when you’ve wet Adam… this patch here,” she said directing my eyes to a rather red area at my crotch. “This is where a nappy rash can start so easily, it needs to be kept as dry as possible…” “Yes, umm, sorry auntie.” “It’s for your own good sweetie” She whispered as she rubbed in some oily cream before sprinkling loads of baby powder onto the same area. As the scented cloud descended the confidence I’d had at the Hall suddenly evaporated and I started to fill up. “I’m sorry auntie… I’m, I’m a stupid little baby…” unbidden a huge sigh escaped. Despite everything so far I was suddenly hit by guilt. Guilt at wetting at my age and even more so at auntie had to sort out her growing nephew who should be past all this type of thing. I shouldn’t be getting a nappy rash at my age... I shouldn’t even need a nappy... I was just a complete failure. The tears welling up were also unexpected and auntie hugged me until I got some control back. “I’m really sorry auntie but I can’t go on like this… I thought I could but… I can’t.” “I know love,” she said stroking my hair, “and if I could magically make it disappear I would but neither of us can.” # She looked around the piles of nappies and stuff that seemed to fill every surface in that small bathroom. “All these things have, over the years, helped quite a number of kids. Some had problems, some found coping difficult, some just needed a little comfort in their lives… and… if I’m honest, I’ve always found a boy or girl in a nappy a lot less stressed than without one. It gives them one less problem to worry about.” She sighed herself. “Well, that’s the way I see it anyway.” She continued to rub in the powder. “However, if you want, I’ll find you something less bulky to fit under your shorts, if you think you can manage.” I saw the genuine look of concern on her face and, if I’d ever had any doubt about her sincerity (which I hadn’t) I knew then and there that auntie would always do her best for me. I toyed with the idea of trying something else, although I had no idea what that could be. “No auntie, I think you’re right, I need a nappy… a nice and thick nappy, because at the moment I can’t trust myself not to pee everywhere.” I said this with a smile so she knew I was joking, well about peeing everywhere at least. “If you’re sure sweetie then let’s get you ready. As we’re not going anywhere, and to save doing things twice, how about I get you ready for bed now?” It seemed a good idea. She pinned me into a double thick nappy and pulled from the top of a pile a very firm pair of slinky blue pants. She told me to stay where I was and disappeared for a few seconds, only to reappear with the short legged onesie and shorts. The blue plastic matched perfectly to the fleecy material and the large silver press studs under the crotch reassuringly closed together with an emphatic ‘click’. Once that held me tightly she inched up the loose fitting matching shorts and it looked like I had on one very comfy play suit. # Indeed, I was very comfy. The soft fleece was both excellent to wear and feel and as I read Barnaby’s further escapades, I spent a great deal of time gently stroking the bulge in front of my new shorts. The slippery and high-gloss plastic pants that auntie slipped over the thick well-padded nappy was held in place by the well-tailored onesie clipped securely under my crotch. To say I was as snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug would not be far from the truth… as I say… I was very comfy indeed. I had no inhibitions about sitting there caressing my crotch, it was like I was petting a furry animal. I certainly wasn’t getting any stimulation as the nappy was so thick, I was simply enjoying the sensation the fabric gave. Mrs Goodall made very good clothing and I began to appreciate that auntie wanted my week with her to be nice and carefree. The fact that I had occasional ‘problems’ were to be ignored whilst I enjoyed the simple pleasures of what some personal time with auntie offered. At home I have to admit I don’t have a terrible life, it’s just that with two older brothers, at times, I feel edged out a bit. Joe and Geoff are no worse (and often a great deal better) than other kids their age on the estate, but with parents who don’t indulge us and only buy what’s needed, I have no choice but let them be first in the queue for everything. Although they have much more demanding personalities than me, they still don’t get everything they want simply because the money isn’t there. I’m also sure that they have no idea how much money flowed from auntie to help mum and dad out. That’s why we don’t have personal phones or computers, we don’t have WiFi and I’m sure we’d still have the pixelated ancient TV had auntie not bought us a fab new one for Christmas. We also possess only one, pay-as-you-go mobile phone which is mainly in the care of mum and I suspect was another gift from auntie. # Eventually I got tired of reading and, armed with a lovely cup of cocoa, snuggled down with auntie to watch one of her programmes. She likes ‘soaps’, period dramas, quiz shows and anything to do with nature. There was a feature on trawlermen battling the elements in search of a catch. The weather had turned nasty and the fish had all but disappeared and they were having a horrendous time battling the seas. It was night and the men, dressed in their bright yellow and orange oilskins were being tossed around by the violent waves that were crashing over their small boat as they tried to drag in the nets. Under the floodlights and pitch black seascape, all that could be seen were the shiny glowing figures and the occasion avalanche of sea water as it crashed over them. It all looked pretty terrifying. The guys were being knocked about as they struggled to pull in their catch. It was hard, dangerous work and the camera captured the drama they had to go through on an everyday expedition out to earn a living. It was brutal, although the colourful reflective protection from the elements looked somewhat ethereal under the ship’s deck lights. Both auntie and I cowered as each new noisy wave swept across the bow, crashing into men and machinery in a spray of silver light. I was in awe of the job these men go through to get me my fish-fingers and decided I probably wouldn’t be going to sea when I eventually left school. # The documentary finally finished with them returning to port (which had a lovely sunrise welcoming them home after all the storms they had been through) and then selling the fish. I’d finished my cocoa and was just about as exhausted as the fishermen so, as it was ten o’clock, kissed auntie ‘goodnight’ and toddled off to bed. “Okay sweetheart, see you in the morning… erm… do you need a change?” “No auntie I’m dry thanks. Goodnight.” I said again as I slowly climbed the stairs. My onesie and shorts were like a pair of pyjamas and, as I snuggled under the blankets, I could feel Mrs Goodall’s wonderful design holding my protection firmly in place. I was asleep in minutes. # Far from the excitement of Henningsbrough Hall and its wonderful gallery occupying my dreams, it was the trawlermen and their disturbing occupation that swamped my brain. I became one of those men, my bright yellow oilskin lit up in the night as I, like those in the documentary, was beaten by wave after terrorising wave. The catch had almost been landed but I was tightly grasping a rope that would open the net and release it into the hold. However, there was a problem, somehow the rope had got caught and I couldn’t pull it hard enough for the thing to operate correctly. I was screaming instruction as huge waves slammed into the boat knocking us over. I still gripped the rope, desperate to release the catch so we could all get below and out of the storm. I was shouting so loudly for assistance but the rope still held as another wild wave smashed over us. The trawler heaved hard to port and we were all washed to one side but this action released the trapped piece of net, which in turn freed most of the catch into the hold. However, another wave smashed over the rigging and sent some of the fish cascading down over me and I found flapping fish slipping between me and my oilskins. Somehow the slippery wet sea creatures were wriggling and flailing next to my body, sliding across my chest and down my back before sliding into my pants. I could feel the fish flapping about next to my body, squirming between my genitals and slipping around my bum trying to wriggle in. A long slithering eel was trying to gain access but I was pushing back hard to try and prevent entry. The fish was determined and as it drove forward I felt myself being opened up. The oilskins made it impossible for me to get a grip on the intruder so I made one last ditch effort to drive it out. I forced back with all my might… For some reason I was terrified and screaming for help to get rid of these twisting slippery creatures and it was then that auntie woke me from my horrifying dream. # “Shhhh… sshhhhh… you’re safe… sshhhhh…” My heart was pounding, I was whimpering and although I was held in auntie’s arms, I was still frightened by my encounter. The creaking, storm-lashed vessel, a strained and battered body covered in fish scales and who knew what else, plus the eel like creature slipping around and trying to get inside me… eeuughhh! Once awake I remembered even as this terrifying storm proceeded I couldn’t help but notice how fanciful the slick wet oilskins looked with each deluge - their slippery wet surface reminding me of my own glassy plastic pants. Finally, thanks to the care of Auntie Annie, I was able to calm down. Her soothing words and gentle caresses settled me down until I could smell something unmistakable… and it wasn’t fish. “Erm, auntie, errrrr, I think…” Before I said the words I could feel a mass in my nappy and knew what I’d done. “I know sweetheart, you’ve had a nightmare. You were screaming and obviously very scared of something so... when you’re ready, we’ll get you sorted…” The shame of messing for the second time was overwhelming; even though I’d had the most terrifying of dreams, I was totally humiliated by what had happened. I clung to auntie because I was worried in case she showed any disapproval, I don’t think I could endure her being anything but understanding… yet I could understand if she was fed up of my childish ‘accidents’. A wet nappy is one thing but a messy, stinky one is something else entirely. I really didn’t want to move but I disliked the clinging mass and pulled myself together quickly enough to not let things drag on for too long. # With a great deal of caution I waddled, shamefaced and bow-legged down to the bathroom where auntie started the shower. “Let’s get you out of everything sweetheart.” I was still shaking from my night terror and auntie slowly helped me out of the shorts, pulled open the silver studs under my crotch and felt the weight of the nappy sag causing a strange, vacuum type of sensation as my genitals were suddenly released from their tight bond. ‘Eeuughhh’ wasn’t enough of a description for my smelly, drooping protection. However, auntie removed the onesie and then set about easing me out of the filthy plastic pants and loaded nappy. She directed me under the shower and whilst I was there got rid of the offending articles. I had no idea what time it was but as auntie was still in her nightie I guess it wasn’t getting up time yet. Once out of the shower auntie was waiting with a huge towel. She dried me thoroughly and then had me lie out as I was covered in more creams and powder than I’d ever undergone before. I was guiltily silent as she meticulously rubbed in everything. # The nappy I had been wearing was thick with soaker pads, but the new one was doubled and pinned very tightly into place. I didn’t dare say anything but I could hardly move. She asked me to raise my feet and proceeded to inch a very thick pair of shiny pink rubber pants up my legs. These were huge but the elasticated cuffs and waistband held me rigidly, whilst the thick fabric was squeezed against my body in a tight hug. She pulled a pale blue t-shirt over my head, which just came down to my hips. “There sweetheart, I’m sure that should see you through the night okay…” I meekly nodded. I’d never worn such a thick nappy before or had such glossy pink pants holding me so securely. She held out her hand and guided me to her room. “I think I’ll be fine now auntie. Thank you but…” “I’m sure you will sweetie but I want to keep my eye on you for the rest of the night. You’ve had a bit of a fright and I want to make sure you’re fine… that’s all.” It was like I was back to being a toddler again. Sleeping in the same bed as auntie so she knew I’d be safe. However, I noticed a small crib in her room and for a second thought she was going to insist I used that. I then realised that I wouldn’t have fitted and also it must have been left over from when she was looking after baby Jane and Johnny Kilsden. # As I climbed into her bed I briefly glimpsed the bedside clock; it read 11.52 not even midnight and all this had happened. I was exhausted but shuffled over to the side I used to sleep on when I was little and although memories came flooding back, I really didn’t want to face the fact that my dear old aging auntie had once again changed her nephew’s poo-filled nappy. I turned on my side facing away and felt auntie get in beside me. She patted my huge padded bottom and whispered a sweet goodnight, that all would be well and not to worry… I soon drifted off. # During the night Adam became restless again, kicking and mewling like a cat caught in a trap. His wriggling woke up auntie who did what she’d done for the hundreds of agitated young kids she’d cared for over the years. Reaching into her bedside cabinet, found what she was looking for, and slipped a dummy between Adam’s whimpering lips. Within a minute he was calm and sucking peacefully so both he and his auntie could continue uninterrupted with their night’s sleep. # I woke up slowly and wondered what I had between my lips and was sucking on. My heart sank when I realised I had a baby’s dummy in my mouth and I felt stupidly childish when the events of earlier that night began to come flooding back. No wonder auntie shoved a dummy in my mouth, crying and messing myself yet again, I’d acted like a big baby. I turned to see if auntie was awake but her side of the bed was empty and was relieved I didn’t have to mention or answer any questions about what had happened. The padding felt huge so I tentatively reached down to see if I’d wet (or worse) during the night. Thankfully, although the padding was very thick, it hadn’t rode up; I was still firmly held in place and better still, I was dry. Moments later auntie appeared round the door with her usual smile. “Morning sweetie… I thought I’d let you catch up with your sleep… you had a hectic night.” I felt so guilty I found it difficult to look her in the eye. “I’m really sorry, um, err, um…” “It’s okay love… you had a bad dream… you mustn’t blame yourself… you just had a bad accident.” I felt myself begin to fill up with tears of shame. “But auntie…” I think auntie knew I was struggling and came over to comfort me. Once again I cried into her shoulder as she patted my back and offered soothing words. It really was like I’d never grown up. It could quite easily been a scene from when I was four or five and fallen over in the street and not only grazed my knee but wet my pants at the same time. “Come down for some breakfast you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten something.” # I slowly eased myself from her embrace and pulled back the blanket. The huge shiny pink rubber pants looked ridiculous but I understood why she was taking such a precaution. Gradually, I followed her down stairs and sat at the table. I was surprised to feel how much padding there was under my bottom and just how comfy it was. Over breakfast I explained about the nightmare and she agreed that I probably had no option but to mess myself when defending my bottom from a scary slithering eel. “Well, I bet it won’t try that again.” She offered with a smile and a touch to my wrist. Typical of auntie she was trying to make me feel good about myself rather than the shame I was actually feeling. I hadn’t wanted to put auntie through any of this nappy business but, because mum and the school had insisted I wear one, she had just got on with the job. As it turned out, they were all correct. # “Er, auntie.” “Yes sweetie.” “Why did I wake up with a dummy in my mouth?” Again the doubts were running around my head that because I wore a nappy I was being treated as a baby. Surely this was proof, although why auntie would be a party to such a thing I wasn’t sure. “Well, you see sweetheart, your dreams weren’t quite over and you were anxiously tossing and turning, crying and kicking…” “Oh dear, I wasn’t… was I?” I remembered the nightmare and understood that I had been screaming and struggling to… “Sorry darling but you needed something to calm down.” “And a dummy helped?” I asked a bit incredulously. “It had an immediate effect, and, once you were sucking on it, you became very placid and seemed to slip into a peaceful sleep.” I had no recollection of having dreamt any more so it must have worked because I woke up dry and feeling well rested. “Oh.” Was the only answer I could offer. #tbc#

2. Are you out of your mind? “You want to what?” Naomi said, staring at her friend in astonishment, her lower jaw refusing to reconnect the halves of her mouth into a single unit. They were sitting at Starbucks sipping Lattes. Naomi had been a bit surprised when Geneva had asked to go to this one, as no one came to this Starbucks, but now she understood. The fact that no one came here was precisely why they were here. This was not a conversation Genny wanted overheard. “Genny, are you out of your mind?” Her friend just smiled and took another sip. “I don’t think so. Maybe? But consider it: You said I needed to find a gimmick if I want to make it big on YouTube. And you also commented about my size and ‘cuteness.’” Naomi shook her head. That was not where she thought Genny would take this. “Yeah, but I didn’t mean—” “Wait,” Geneva said. “Look at this.” She opened her laptop and called up one of her videos, already scrolled to a section of the comments where two of the strange remarks were visible. “Read these two comments, Nay. There are lots more just like them.” Naomi took a moment to read the remarks and then looked up at her friend, who was intentionally sitting with the most adorable, innocent expression she could muster. All Naomi could do was burst out laughing. “Is it that ridiculous?” Geneva asked. Still laughing, Naomi nodded. “It’s pretty ridiculous, Genny. I mean these comments are one thing, and your size is one thing, but you’re talking about putting yourself on YouTube pretending to be a child.” “Why not? Some of these guys already think I am. And pretending to be a child who can sing like me and dance or play guitar in videos might be just the way to get known.” “You can’t do that!” Naomi said firmly. “It’s...it’s fraud. Or if it’s not, it should be.” They sat quietly for a couple of minutes sipping their drinks while Geneva thought about what Naomi had said. Could it really be fraud just to pretend to be a kid? Putting it that way made the answer pretty clear. “Shit,” she said. “I thought I had an answer.” “That’s not the answer,” said Naomi. This was getting very uncomfortable. Geneva nodded. “You’re right.” Then she added, “damn it.” Again they were silent, with Geneva’s disappointment clouding the table. It was pretty obvious that she had wanted this conversation to take a different path. Now she found herself, as always, on the outside looking in, and the only sound was the occasional clinking of cups against the table. As for Naomi, the whole thing had been a shocker. Genny wanting to pretend to be a little girl? She wondered if she had somehow triggered this and if she needed to take charge of the situation and defuse it. After a few minutes, she broke the silence. “Don’t you think it would have been pretty embarrassing? Geneva nodded. “I guess so. I mean I wasn’t really thinking about that, just the possibility of becoming famous and making money from my singing. You know how frustrated I’ve been about not getting any recognition.” “You won that Junior Class Honors Award.” “Yeah. And it helped feed my ego. I guess it will look good on a college app, but I need something to make me feel better about my talents right now, not in college. I guess I could try out for things outside of school, but how little would I look then? I’d be compared to the real world, not the high school world. I’d be lucky if I could get the little kid roles.” Naomi reached across the table and took her friend’s hand. “I knew you were feeling bad, but I had no clue it was like this. I never would have started that conversation last night if I knew it would lead to—” Geneva shook her off. “This isn’t about that. Well, not all of it. You just lit a fire under some things that had been simmering on their own for a long time. And when you told me how much money people make on YouTube…” “You’re really fixating on that.” “Hell, I don’t know why everyone isn’t fixating on that.” Naomi nodded. “OK, you may have a point. But to humiliate yourself? You’d be totally recognizable, and people like Lara Miranda would have a fucking field day.” “Who cares what she says?” asked Geneva. “I don’t live my life worrying about Lara Miranda.” “I thought you did. Didn’t you just complain last night about not getting leads? Well she’s the one getting a lot of them.” Geneva shrugged. “I know.” “So you want to go on YouTube dressed like a middle schooler everyone still knows is you, and you think this is going to help somehow?” “Maybe,” she said. Then, reconsidering, “I guess not. Anyway, I don’t think I’d have felt humiliated at all.” Naomi was silent for a moment, trying to figure out her best path. “What do you mean? You’re 17 and you’d have been appearing as like a pre-teen.” Geneva shrugged. “So?” “So how can that not embarrass you?” “Naomi, look at me. I mean seriously. We joke about it all the time, but imagine my life. How many times a week do you think I hear comments about my size? How many times do you think I hear someone mistake me for someone a lot younger? Do you think those YouTube comments were the very first time? I didn’t expect them, but they didn’t exactly shock me either. I get this shit all the time.” This was a side of Genny she had never seen anything of before. And she thought she knew her friend well. But then she had parts of her life Genny had never seen as well; she guessed everyone did. “I had no idea.” “That’s because there’s nothing I can do about it, like there’s nothing you can do about being gay. It’s just a fact about my life, so I deal. What good would it do to complain? I long ago got over the embarrassment of being seen occasionally as a pre-teen. I just roll with it. Hell, I’ve been known to play along sometimes.” Naomi studied her friend. “What do you mean?” “Well, for a simple example, Mom and I went to a restaurant last weekend, and the hostess offered me a lollipop and a children’s menu. Mom was about to say something, but I was feeling silly, and I happen to like lollipops, so I took them and we went to our table.” “You ordered off the children’s menu?” “What can I say? I like chicken nuggets.” “How did your mom react?” “Oh she just laughed. It wasn’t the first time and it surely won’t be the last.” Genny plays little girl and her mom lets her, Naomi thought. It seemed so...unlikely. But it didn’t change the facts at hand right now. “How does it make you feel to do that?” she asked. “Actually, when I’m with my Mom and I do it, it’s a fun game. I like it when the waitresses think I’m like in sixth or seventh grade or something. It’s like, for a while, years of responsibility are lifted.” “How about when people make a mistake elsewhere?” She took another long sip of her latte, and it occurred to Naomi that it was an odd thing to be doing while talking about pretending to be a little girl. “Whatever. No harm, no foul.” “But you understand why you can’t do this thing, right?” Geneva looked down. “Yeah,” she said. “No, I get it. I hadn’t thought of it before, but I can’t make money pretending to be something I’m not.” Geneva stared at her drink, and Naomi’s mind rushed around to places she had never really contemplated before. This was uncharted territory, but something told her it was worth a try. “Genny?” Her friend looked up. “What if I said I might have an idea?” Geneva’s eyes opened wide, and her face followed them, her expression an invitation. “I’d say tell me what it is already!” “You might think it’s weird.” “I just suggested pretending to be a pre-teen. I think weird is in my wheelhouse.” “OK then,” Naomi said. “But please remember that I’m offering this as a professional suggestion only, not as something I think about you personally.” “O...K,” Geneva said slowly. “That’s a bit foreboding.” “No, it’s nothing bad. I think. Oh hell, I’ll just spit it out: I’m thinking of a variation of what you were suggesting earlier.” “But we can’t do that; it’s fraud.” Naomi shook her head. “It’s only fraud if you’re pretending to be something you’re not. I’m not going to suggest that. In this suggestion, no one knows you’re Geneva—you use some other stage name—but you are still 17 years old.” “But?” “But you are dressed and perform as a little girl.” This time it was Geneva shaking her head. “Don’t you think I thought about that? I mean those comments thought I was young with no outfits at all! But I just didn’t think me dressed in middle school-ish clothing was much of a gimmick.” “I totally agree,” Naomi said. Geneva was completely confused. “But I thought you said—” Naomi gently put her finger to her mouth and whispered, “Shhh.” Geneva was quiet, stunned a bit by such a command from her friend, who went on, “I said you would be openly 17. I did not say you’d be dressed as a middle schooler.” “OK, now I am hopelessly lost,” Geneva said. “First you say you’re offering a variation of my plan, but now you’re not?” “I am. You would not be dressed as a middle schooler. You’d be dressed a lot younger.” Geneva was silent. After a long moment, she asked, “How young?” Naomi shrugged. “Negotiable. I was thinking maybe three or four?” “WHAT?” Geneva said so loudly it was almost a yell, actually standing up in her shock. But Naomi had expected that reaction, so she remained perfectly calm. “Take it easy, Genny. Sit back down and don’t make a scene. We’re just talking here, remember?” With several deep breaths, Geneva sat back down. Then, in a harsh whisper, she asked her friend, “Are you nuts? Three or four?” “Let me explain, OK?” Naomi kept her voice calm and her eyes locked on her friend’s eyes as she spoke. “I told you: I’m not in any way saying that you look or act that young in real life. That would be idiotic and way incorrect.” “Damn right.” “So...what I am suggesting is that by playing a character who is little more than a baby, you would be creating an obvious parody that no one could reasonably expect to be real and therefore can’t be fraudulent. And as a gimmick, a baby singer is pretty high concept, I think.” Naomi watched as Geneva turned that over in her mind. “Doesn’t it make sense, Genny?” she asked. Geneva nodded, reluctantly. “I wish to hell it didn’t,” she said, and resumed drinking her latte.

Hi, I hope you enjoy this story. In the past I have started lots of stories here and never finished them. I wrote this about a year ago, and posted it to fetlife. I meant it to just be a one off story but a few people asked for more and I kept going. I'm now on part 10. Since I have written so much I thought I should share it here too. It took him a few minutes realize his situation when he woke up, not in his own bed, cramped, wet and uncomfortable. He could see the white rails going up in front of him. "Dammit," he said out loud. He was laying in a 52 inch crib staring up at a stuffed animal mobile. The morning erection which would usually greet him every morning was stifled by the pink plastic cock cage, when it rolled his squished penis hurt. In an attempt to avoid this very thing he'd tried to pee really good before he went to bed, as his wet diaper now indicated. He relaxed and tried to let the pee flow, it wasn't easy but eventually he soaked the already wet nighttime diaper and even felt a little creep out into his sleeper. This was Saturday morning. Normally on a Saturday morning in Summer he'd meet his pal Ted and go fishing on his boat, he instinctively looked at his wrist, and remembered his wife took his watch away. There was no clock in the nursery, I wonder if I could still catch Jim he thought. He sat up in the crib, and thought about getting out, the rails were up be he could get over them if he wanted. Still the rule was that he wasn't allowed out of the crib until Mommy came to let him out. Getting out would be trivial but his wife had set the crib on 12 inch risers meaning that from the top of the rail down to the floor was 55 inches. He stood up and looked down over the rail. Of course the latch they had rigged up was locked with a small padlock. The same kind of small padlock that was keeping his cock locked in it's cage. It's probably really early, she's probably not even up yet. I could just go get some snips and cut the cage off, he thought about the wonderful orgasm he would whack out as soon as he got the cage off and he felt his little guy start to stiffen up and press against the cage again and he moaned in discomfort. This has got to end, he thought. "Bahh", he said as he threw a leg over the rails and got out of bed, he reached his foot down but couldn't quite touch the ground, his soaked diaper sliding against the top rail as he stretched. He tried to reach just a bit farther but lost his balance as his diaper snagged on the rail. He found himself falling and hit the floor with a thud. How the hell did I end up like this, he thought. A month earlier he was in a similar situation, laying on the floor of the guest room wearing a diaper and a cute onesie with bright pink trim and printed with hearts. His diaper was soaked and messy and he was listening to a hypnotic track on headphones, and he was happily suckling a big pink pacifier. He didn't even notice his wife walk into the room until she was looking down at him. She'd got off work early and came home to surprise him. The next few hours were rough, he explained his diaper fetish, and swore over and over again that it had nothing to do with children. His wife was shocked, then upset, then angry, really angry, then sad, really sad. She eventually packed a suitcase and left. She called the next day, and they talked on the phone for hours. Her anger had died down and she'd done research on adult babies, finding out that as he had said the fetish had nothing to do with pedophilia. That evening she came home and they had a long discussion, he explained he'd been doing this since he was a little kid, and that he didn't know why he liked to do it, but he loved it. At her request he showed her all of his stuff, his diapers, his onesies, his bottles and pacifiers. "I'm so sorry, I'm going to bag all this stuff up and throw it away," he said. "Well... I was thinking, I've always had this fantasy of being a tough in charge kind of woman," she said. He laughed, his wife was super sweet and nice and rarely wanted to be in charge of anything. "Seriously don't laugh, and since you know, we can't have a baby, it might be kind of fun if you were my baby." His eyes opened wide, words that he'd imagined his whole life just poured out of his wife's mouth. "Ummm, wha.." he stammered. "But there will be strict rules, you have to understand what hurts me more than anything about this is how you kept it away from me all this time, it's almost like you were cheating," she said. "I'm sorry," he said trying to fight back tears but losing. "It's just so, embarrassing," he said and began to sob. "Oh come to mommy," his wife said and wrapped herself around him and he cried into her shoulder while she gently rocked him back and forth, She supported his head and whispered into his ear, "Your mommies baby now and she loves you so much," in a few moments she felt his cock growing stiff and realized how incredibly horny he was. She pulled off her shirt and undid her bra, then guided her husband's mouth to one of her nipples. "Fussy baby, here you go," she gently said. While her husband latched on and suckled she alternated between rubbing the front of his pants and his nipple. Soon he was unable to control himself and was humping and grinding her legs. She undressed him and then herself then lead him to the bed where they had mind-blowing sex. His cock was harder and went deeper then she'd ever felt, he moaned in rhythm with her. "Yes, baby, yes baby," she began to say as she felt herself heading towards orgasm. "Yes mommy, yes mommy," he said back. They came together, both screaming in a mind shattering orgasm, then collapsed on the bed. "Would you like me to diaper you now?" she asked. "Nahh, I'm good," he replied. She wondered how closely his adult baby desires were connected to just having an orgasm. "That's something we'll have to work on," she said with a laugh. The next day they had the best day of their lives, something they'd always dreamed of doing together, they converted a guest bedroom into a nursery. They bought the biggest crib they could find, which wasn't really big enough, but would have to do. They bought a white table that they converted to an adult sized changing table, and some organizers for diapers and toys. They filled a cart at Baby's R Us, with all kinds of baby supplies and neither one could wipe the big smile off their face. Finally, they ordered several cases of different adult diapers. "That's a lot of diapers," he said. "Well you're going to need them," she replied

The Suit I just started grammar school; surprisingly passing the exams, which neither of my two older brothers did, so was regarded by my family as a bit of an oddity, but a good one. This was something special, for the first time ever, one of the family going to grammar school. Mum and dad said they were so proud of me. Had I peaked at eleven years old? We didn’t have much money but mum was so thrilled she couldn’t wait to take me to get my new school uniform. I already had grey shorts and socks but needed a new school blazer with the badge that meant so much, together with the correct school tie and cap. It came to a small fortune but mum and dad scraped the bottom of whatever barrels we had in order to pay for this fine achievement. Getting ready for my first day I was so nervous but mum said, as she passed me a freshly ironed shirt, she couldn’t believe her ‘little sweetheart’ was going to such a prestigious academy. She seemed more excited than I was as she added both her and dad couldn’t have been more delighted about my success because of what the future now held. They both firmly believed that this type of education was a guarantee of future accomplishment. # The housing estate we lived on was very working class and although there were bound to be others my age who had passed their exam, I didn’t know anyone. My brothers, and all their friends, went to the local secondary school so I was a bit of an anomaly. Most of the families were just about getting by, some a lot worse than we were, so I knew mum and dad were probably sacrificing quite a lot to let me go to this particular ‘elite’ place of education. # My first day at ‘big school’ was quite daunting. Most of my class were, like me, wearing shorts but a few eleven year olds had made the leap into long trousers. I was surprised as I thought we would all be wearing the same uniform. Mum had said that for the first couple of years, the rule was that ‘junior’ boys should wear shorts. Obviously this wasn’t true, and though it didn’t click in my mind at the time, the reason I stayed in shorts was simply because I was still growing and we hadn’t enough money to buy such ‘extras’. My older brothers at their school were wearing long trousers but, as they grew out of them, first Joe who then handed them down to Geoff, they were really in no fit state as hand-me-downs for me. However, like a lot of the kids on the estate, it’s how I ended up with most of my clothes. In fact, my new blazer, tie and cap were about the only new thing that I possessed that were mine alone. Their trousers with worn out knees through general wear and tear made them almost useless for anything other than cutting down and converting to ‘playing out’ shorts. Mum had gotten to be a dab hand at sewing and patching stuff up but even she couldn’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear, and certainly not for her boy in grammar school. Although only three and two years (respectively) older than me, my rough and tumble brothers, Joseph and Geoffrey, were big boys for their age, whereas I’d maintained a small stature like mum, they had gained dad’s genes and had grown a lot quicker than me. As a result, I had an abundance of shorts, which not surprising for my size always fit. I wasn’t going into long trousers for some time yet… not with money being at a premium and two brothers who also needed clothes for school as well as everything else. Whilst I was wearing shorts at least I looked as smart as any other new boy in class. Patched up long trousers just wouldn’t do. As there were others in the same boat as me, I wasn’t that bothered about wearing shorts. Because, when I’d arrive back home from school I always changed out of my uniform and into something more scruffy and relaxed, which generally meant a different pair of shorts and jumper. I was still the youngest (and smallest) of the family so got all my clothes from my older brothers. I was used to wearing hand-me-downs so it didn’t worry me. The thing was they were still growing teenagers whereas I seemed to have slowed down with my growth spurt so all new clothing was aimed at them. # However, on a different subject, with grammar school came homework, and proper homework, not like you’d get at junior school. I didn’t like it and found it difficult to sustain any interest in doing work away from class. Even when my older brothers tried to help me… I was hopeless. The teachers at the academy were a fierce bunch of old men in gowns who terrified me and my real ability became apparent, I lacked any great talent for learning. At my earlier schools the teachers had been friends and very supportive, but now, well it was down to me to work, and work hard, to produce results. Not that the teachers were bad, in fact, they were very good, it was just that you were left to prove, improve and motivate yourself. It just wasn’t me. I’m sure the teachers were encouraging in their own way but I suppose I just wasn’t ready for such a dramatic change in what was now expected of me. I guess I was just a bit lazy and had no idea how I came to pass the exam in the first place. There were around a hundred of us inducted that year and we were divided into Forms 1a, 1b and 1c, I wasn’t by any means the worst but I was left in the lower half of the class… and I was in the bottom section for my age. # About six months into term I woke up one Monday morning and I was wet through. I’d had a homework assignment over the weekend that I just couldn’t seem to get a handle on and I’d been dreaming about how my teachers would react to such a “stupid boy”. My night time worries had become very apparent as I gingerly got up and had to tell mum what had happened. When she saw me standing in the kitchen in soaked pyjamas and a very worried look on my face she seemed sympathetic but also a little saddened. She had hoped that I’d bloom at this school, which was very well regarded, but I really was in fear of the strict teachers even though, as yet, I’d not fallen foul of any of them. It was just the shear dread of what might happen rather than any actual experience. Although mum had to dash off to work she stripped my bed, turned the mattress and opened the windows to air things out. She said that she’d sort everything else out by the time I got home from school but in the meantime, just to do the best I could. She also insisted that I had a really good wash as she didn’t want me to go to school smelling of pee. # Mum worked part-time at Boots the Chemist, whilst dad worked as a warehouse stockman for one of the big supermarket chains. Neither were extravagantly paid jobs but they both worked hard to give us kids whatever they could. I may have dressed in old clothes but we never went hungry or shoeless… and I didn’t have parents who drank their way through any problems. # I pulled on my uniform, checked that my shoes were shiny; the school masters were very insistent that shoes should always gleam. We had regular inspections to make sure we kept up to a certain level of cleanliness, hairstyle, hygiene and our uniforms should be well maintained. If you faltered in any of these areas a terse and awkward letter from the headmaster would be sent to your parents – standards had to be upheld at all times - this included any time your wore the uniform whether in school time or not. All this ‘pressure’ was weighing heavily on my shoulders. Other kids at school seemed to revel in this new responsibility and not being treated as thoughtless adolescents, whilst it simply scared me. Meanwhile, after what appeared to have been only a few weeks, I was one of the few boys in my class still wearing shorts, which of course only added to the fact that I didn’t feel grown-up compared to those who were in long trousers. Out of the three classes, there were still less than twenty of us in our grey school shorts, the rest having ‘graduated’ into long trousers. We who were still wearing shorts felt under duress to conform but not all families (like mine) had the wherewithal to make that financial leap. Occasionally some of the older boys, and those in my class with self-confidence, commented on the fact that, being on the short side, I looked like I still belonged in junior school and hadn’t quite made the grade to senior level. With short grey school shorts revealing my hairless bare legs, slim diminutive figure, floppy dark brown hair and still quite babyish soft features, I probably did look exactly as they described. # At night, as I slept, whatever the reason, all this was getting to me in some way and I woke up soaked every morning. Thankfully, after that first wet night, mum had put a plastic sheet on my bed to protect the mattress. After my third wet night she’d managed to get a discount on nappies from her work place and after that, I spent every night tightly pinned into them as I slept. There were tears and I tried my best to reject the inevitable but both my parents said it was for the best, so that was me… sunk. This helped with the wet bed (though not soaked nappies) but did nothing for my self-esteem and my brothers, being brothers (Geoffrey 14, Joseph 15), took great delight in making sure that their ‘clever’ little brother knew he was nothing more than a dumb, pissy little baby. If they’d ever shown resentment at mum’s pride in my getting to grammar school that soon disappeared as they saw I was unable to cope and had become almost incontinent. They appeared almost gleeful in my decent into becoming a bed wetter. Mum had a catalogue from which she bought most of our clothes in instalments and they would often leave it open at the infants page, circling prams, onesies and baby’s plastic pants. As it was, thanks to her work at the chemist, mum had brought home a pack of twelve adolescent fabric nappies and a few pairs of very strong rubber pants that she’d been assured by the company were leak-proof and odour-free. These were to become the defence that kept my bed dry and the damp contained as I slept. They were smooth and glossy to the touch but gripped my waist and legs like a vice. They didn’t hurt, the thick rubber saw to that, but they were heavy and together with a well-padded nappy, were a force to be reckoned with. However, they did work very well and my small bedroom (my brothers shared a much larger bedroom) didn’t smell of pee. My nappies, plastic pants and various creams were kept away from their prying eyes, whilst mum and dad made sure I was well shielded every night in my heavy protection. As you can tell, things were getting worse and try as I might, my body was behaving badly and there seemed very little I could do to control it. # However, mum did tell me that soon I’d be getting my first suit. Not a hand-me-down, one that Auntie Annie, mum’s auntie, was getting made especially for me. She knew I was growing up and wanted to get something that was just for me… something to celebrate securing a place at grammar school. I was so excited I badgered mum to give me details. All she said was that I’d have it before my twelfth birthday and that auntie mentioned it was blue. So, despite having to wear nappies at night, I was finally going to be treated as a grown-up and have my own clothes. # Auntie Annie is my mother’s auntie who, together with her husband Bill, had taken in mum when she was a girl after her mother had died. Her father was a hopeless drunk and couldn’t cope with his young daughter’s grief along with his own, so Annie, his sister, had stepped in to help. Aunt Annie and Uncle Bill had all but adopted mum and she lived with them until she married and left home. I never knew Uncle Bill, he’d died long before I was born. However, Auntie Annie was my favourite relative and since being a little baby, I’d always spent time with her. Even as I got older and more independent, I would still visit her as often as I could… and sometimes stay over to keep her company. # Unfortunately, before the suit arrived I had an enormous set-back at school; I accidently wet my pants in the middle of a science lesson. Sorry to say, I drifted off as the teacher spoke about chemical symbols, and in that few moments of total relaxation my bladder gave way and a river of stored pee exited and covered the front of my shorts. Barry Turner, who I was sitting next to, couldn’t believe his eyes as the dark grey stain spread across my shorts and a trickle of pee ran down my leg. He was quick to notify everyone in class and the teacher, realising he had one very damp eleven year old, gave me permission to go and see the school matron. Now I’m not sure if this was something that regularly happened at the academy but judging by the verdict from my classmates, it was both a funny and diabolical thing to have happen. I slouched, undignified from the chemistry lab, down several flights of stairs to matron’s room. On the way I tried to conceal my obvious stain but it was too large for my tiny hand to completely hide. Two older boys I passed on the stairs smiled before I heard a huge guffaw once there were a couple of floors separating us. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed, well I thought not, until I knocked on matron’s door. # She looked aghast, shook her head and told me to take off my shorts. I was reluctant to do anything but too afraid of any form of authority in this place, and she was definitely scary, so I did what I always did when authority spoke, just as I was told. I stood there holding my wet grey school shorts and offered them to her. My sodden underpants sagged a little and she looked perplexed. “And those,” she said pointing to the droopy white cotton. She passed me a thin cotton towel and told me to dry myself, whilst she busied herself sorting stuff in a cupboard. I checked to make sure I hadn’t wet my shirt, although one of my socks was also soaked with pee, but I didn’t want to draw attention to that fact. Once relatively dry I stood waiting for whatever it was matron had decided I needed. She’d pulled out a few items, which I couldn’t quite make out what they were, and then went over to the phone on her desk and dialled a number. It was the contact number for mum and after a few intermediaries she eventually answered. Matron told her what had happened and asked if she could come and collect me. There was more of a conversation and I saw matron listening intently occasionally murmuring a “Yes “or an “I see” ending with a “Yes, please bring those”. # It felt strange standing all but naked in the middle of the office but after a couple of minutes (which seemed like an eternity) eventually she finished and confirmed that mum would pick me up shortly (45 minutes) and that in the meantime I’d have to wait with her. Matron checked I’d dried myself properly and then, much to my surprise, fluffed out a large disposable and told me to sit on her table so she could put me in it. My half-hearted protest was dismissed as she took complete charge and had efficiently taped me up in a matter of moments. “I can’t have you sitting around with no clothes on, and, as I don’t know if you might wet again, this is my solution.” She wasn’t being unkind but I was a little tearful that a boy my age (at grammar school no less), had been reduced to wearing a thick nappy. The fact that I was already regarded as a ‘little kid’ by some of my fellow students made my situation worse. Word would be all around the school about my wet incident and I could feel my standing in the school yard, although not great, would be taking a dive. She checked that the disposable fitted correctly and then pulled my shirt down as best she could to hide the bulky mass. She slipped my wet clothes into a plastic bag and handed them back. “Sorry about this, I know you’ll be feeling a little anxious but I don’t have…” She appeared to have an idea and went off to check on something else. The padding was pleasant and in all honesty I was quite grateful to be out of sopping pants, but, as I sat waiting for her return I was too embarrassed to admit to matron that I’d recently begun to wear a nappy at night… although in retrospect, perhaps mum had mentioned that fact in her brief conversation. She came back triumphantly holding a pair of white nylon gym shorts. “I thought there might be something in the lost property box… here… put these on.” I squeezed myself into them but it was difficult. They would probably fit had I not had such a cushion around my groin but with such thick padding I struggled. Matron looked on somewhat pleased with herself being able to find something to spare my blushes. However, she told me that under normal circumstances I’d be sent straight back to class but as this was an ‘exceptional’ event, I should sit in her outer office, read and wait for mum to arrive. # It wasn’t like a doctor’s waiting room with games for kids and out of date magazines for older folk, this one had two plastic chairs, wasn’t particularly warm and had glass windows where anyone walking down the corridor could look in. I sat slightly demoralised holding onto my plastic bag and wishing mum would hurry up. Matron must have taken sympathy on me as she came out of her office and handed me a very old copy of the Beano comic. For a couple of minutes it held my attention until the end of lesson bell rang and the entire school moved around to their next class. Several people walked or hurried down the corridor and past matron’s window. For those who had eyes to see, there I was, sat in the briefest of shorts, a disposable clearly jutting down the leg-holes and with me reading a particularly childish comic. Of course it only occurred to me how stupid I looked after everyone had gone to their respective classrooms and I took stock. I hadn’t quite realised how much of the nappy was visible as I’d been engrossed in the cartoon capers and shuffled around getting comfy on the plastic chair, my tight little shorts had become very revealing. A huge sigh escaped my lips as I wondered if anything worse could happen. # tbc #

When I was 14 my parents suffered a financial setback. My dad was working but his hours were being cut at the plant. We were still in our home, we had food to eat, it was just money was tight. I begged and begged my parents to let me get a part time job, just to help out. At 14 I didn't realize that at part time it wouldn't be enough to offset what my dad was losing. I was only making minimum wage. My dad was making $17.92 per hour, for those days an excellent wage, I would be making a whopping $2.10 per hour. The deal was if my grades slipped in school the job was over. I worked for Mr. Mauzer. I did anything he wanted me to do from pulling weeds to shoveling snow. Believe me when I say he got his $2.10 worth of work out a me! Now Mr. Mauzer had no sons only daughters why I was hired, there was Carrie she was a bit older than I was at 16, Patricia my age and Deborah age 12. Now Mrs. Mauzer was very pretty and all of their daughters took after her. At 14, for some reason I had my heart set on Patricia. She wanted nothing to do with me what so ever! I think it was the time that I caught a frog and as I was showing it to her, it jumped and landed square in her face. She always thought I had done it on purpose. I hadn't but she still didn't like me. As I was working every time I turned around there was Debbie. I thought she followed me just to make sure I was doing what was asked of me by her father, you know just making sure I was earning that $2.10 an hour. She would come ask me what I was doing, then ask Why? I would explain it to her. She always liked my explanation she would smile at me. When I was thirsty she would bring me a glass of cold water. She treated me better than Patricia ever had. I even told her why Patricia didn't like me. I told her about the frog. She laughed and thought it was what she deserved. Debbie told me she liked frogs! Even though she always wore a dress that was as blue as her eyes she was more of a tomboy. We talked and talked as I did my work. I liked Debbie. On one occasion I asked her why she hung out and watched me work. She blushed a little and said "Because I like you! You don't tell me to go play in traffic or jump in the lake." "Who tells you that?" I asked? "My sisters, and other boys that used to work for my daddy!" I told her "Well as I see it your dad's my boss which kinda makes you my boss as well." She liked my explanation. About 2 years later I was 16 and my wage had increased to $2,98 an hour, I saved my money and I got to buy my own clothes for school every fall. My mom no longer had control of what I got for school. Debbie was now 14 still wore dresses still hung around while I worked. One day while I was working and she was watching me work her mom came and asked if she was good still? "No," was all she said and her mom took her to the house 5 minutes later she was back. We were talking again, it looks like rain as their were clouds coming to the west. Soon the wind picked up and it began to blow. Debbie was sitting there when a gust blew her dress up. I was expecting to see panties but got a view of her diapers, I'm not sure who was more shocked me or her. She tried to put her dress down but the damage was done. She looked like she wanted to cry. "Why do you wear diapers for," I asked? "If you must know I still wet my bed, my mom and dad think that if I wear diapers at all times except for school it will embarrass me enough that I will stop wetting my bed!" "That doesn't work I said!" "How would you know," she asked? "My parents did that to me when I was 11, I said. I still wet mine." "You do?" "Yep, the only thing it did wearing most of the time was I got kind a dependent on the diapers started needing them and not knowing when I went." "Me to! My mom just changed me and I think I'm wet again but I didn't pee on purpose. Do you still wear diapers, cloth and plastic pants like me?" I looked around to see who was watching if anybody, and unzipped my pants. She could see my diapers through the hole. "I couldn't stop wetting myself now if my life depended on it," I said. Tell your mom that's all this leads to. Debbie grabbed me and gave me a kiss. No little peck this was a real live lip lock. "I love you she said!" "Debbie I love you as well!" From that day on we became an item. Her dad was kind of upset that I was dating his daughter. He took me to his office and talked with me. He wanted to know why I loved his daughter, he came out and told me she was a bedwetter thinking that it would scare me away. I told him "I knew about her bedwetting and showed him my diapers and told him he might want to rethink the diaper punishment thing, it only causes you to lose more control, take it from somebody that is now diapered 24/7/365 thanks to my diaper punishment at age 11." They tried to get Debbie out of her diapers but it was too late. Like me she was dependant on them now like I was. At 18, I started college so did Debbie at 17. As soon as she hit 18 and I got a great job making $26.56 an hour we were married. Come to find out that due to the heat of wearing diapers and plastic pants I'm shooting blanks now. My mom felt low when we told her that there were no children in our future due to their bedwetting punishment. So did Mrs. Mauzer We're still married and were both diaper dependent thanks to our parents.

With Tommy forced downstairs by Erin as she babysits him he is forced to act like the baby she wants him to be. Her friend coming round worries Tommy and he finds it hard to concentrate on his colouring! Art done by Tato. This is only possible thanks to my patrons who help support my writing and allow me to produce as much content as I do. www.patreon.com/Elfy88

Great Start!

Normally I wouldn't consider these books nothing against paying for stories just had my fair share of rubbish e-books from the kindle store. However this does have some promise and for 2.99 I can take a chance on this.

I think you might be picking apart the wording just a bit. Being AB/DL isn't a choice either. But to outsiders.....it's seen as a lifestyle. An alternative lifestyle. Not saying it's right but.....I mean here we are in the Our Lifestyle area. Most people who are different don't choose to be that way, we just are. No one is trying to claim that being AB/DL is as hard as being gay.

Just an update on this one, everybody: I've been helping @mamabug with the editing for this one. I actually only got to read the full story in its entirety this morning, and all I can say is, you won't be disappointed! I know this community is really big on supporting one another, so I think it'd be really cool if some of us could spare $2.99 once this book goes to Kindle and help support a prominent member of DD.

To clarify, I was not comparing LGBT with diapers. What I was doing was stating how long it took for one type of controversial lifestyle to become relatively accepted (LGBT) and how much longer it will take for the AB/DL lifestyle to become accepted based on the type of lifestyle it is and how much fewer of us there are overall when compared to other lifestyles like LGBT or bondage, for example.

Personally I am very happy that it is becoming more mainstream. I have had great experiences at the Rearz store in Waterloo (I am from there) and at incontinence stores in Toronto, Ottawa and now Montreal. While I don't always find ABDL diapers I appreciate being able to buy in person really good quality ones like Abena and Forsite AM/PM. I find the staff always supportive and friendly without being too many questions. I for one am happy about any progression in a community that for me has carried an intense amount of hiding and shame to the point of it being super unhealthy. I'm hoping the trend continues myself.

It's only because they have all concentrated on their pull on disposable underwear instead of incontinence diapers. Light bladder leakage and disposable underpants is where the market and money is these days. Even before disposable pull on underpants people with light bladder leakage who really didn't need an actual diaper had to wear them because that was about all they could get. Some companies that make the pull on disposable underpants still make diapers, but they are cheap, almost as an afterthought to the market. Why do people think adult diapers in stores are getting harder to find and are so cheap? Because people who really need them buy good quality diapers on line, not the average poor quality store type diapers. I expect one day you won't even be able to find tape on Depends in your local grocery store. Every adult diaper will be replaced in stores with disposable underpants.

You know....I was just thinking about this exact subject the other day. I can't believe that North American products have become so sub par that they're really a joke in some instances. I couldn't imagine being full on bowel and bladder incontinent and being stuck with Depends or Attends nowadays....

We sleep together, and I think it's more that she's put off by the idea of being in bed with a nappy. I've got her feelings to think about, and I'm not going to push too hard on this one just now. She's got a lot to get used to. Getting used to seeing me during the day, & interacting with me when I'm wearing is going really well so far. She has yet to see me in just a nappy. No problem with carrying nappies around for washing, putting on, etc. I've no reason to try to hurry things along too fast.

Sounds pretty much the same as people's reactions to LGBT a couple decades ago, actually. If they could do it, then so can we.

I for one am glad that there is a move out of the closet for us. I am glad that there is a wide range of nappies and clothing available. Its all about supply and demand, once the web became a way for us to communicate with one another many of us realised we wern't the only one to have these desires, that were not sick in the head to want to wear a nappy. I am more at ease and relaxed about this part of my life than i have ever been, and that is a good thing. vive la difference . And i didn't choose to be AB/DL Nor did i Choose to be gay they are both just a part of who i am. Would i like AB/DL to be as more acceptable as LGBT? Absolutely! And i for one have no problem with any equating of the two. Maly.

I was, of course, being facetious with my count of abdls in the U.S. Any estimate may be off by a factor of 10 or 100 or 1,000.... No one will ever know with any certainty.

I think that once you've realized that diapers/abdl/incontinence or whatever you are into there probably won't be any turning back. It's probably part of you and what you are. To keep it hidden in the back of your mind may be the wrong thing to do because it very well could resurface years later and after other commitments are made. Your partner needs to understand this before commitments may be broken. And that helps nobody.

Thanks for your comments. I hope you continue to enjoy Adam's discoveries and his auntie's continued love. Part 10 Just as had been described, the cover showed Barnaby Blue Investigates as the main title. A young boy, in a blue suit like mine but with very short trousers (even shorter than the ones I wear for school) was the main image. As was also mentioned, a large question mark hovered above his head and a magnifying glass and a file that read TOP SECRET were held in his hand. He looked a great deal younger than I’d imagined. In fact, because of all the comments from the folk at auntie’s club I had convinced myself that, like the Italian advert for the suit, Barnaby would look just like me. However, his hair was black and very short, with a cute little quiff, whereas mine is brown, thick and at times a little unruly. However, holding the file he looked determined, which was very reassuring as, like me, he wore knee length socks and black shoes, which always made me feel juvenile compared to my long-trousered class mates, but he also appeared curious and confident, if a little suspicious. # As I wriggled contentedly in my fleecy pyjamas, the thick nappy hugging and making me feel warm and cosy I wondered if he wore a nappy under his shorts. Why I should think such a thought at that moment I wasn’t sure, perhaps I was actually hoping we had quite a bit in common. “You should get your hair done like Barnaby’s.” Auntie indicated, “He looks very smart… and we’re going to the barber tomorrow.” She paused and saw me looking unsure. “You could definitely carry off that look.” Even though I smiled at auntie’s suggestion I really wasn’t too sure. He looked like a boy from the 50s and I wasn’t sure I even liked that particular style. “I’d never get my hair to look that shiny,” I offered as a way of saying I didn’t think so, without actually saying it. “Of course you would. I bet there is still some of your Uncle Bill’s hair tonic in one of those boxes upstairs; that will make it stay in place.” In my search I had actually come across a box containing Uncle Bill’s shaving stuff and there had been various tubes and containers of oils and creams, although I was sure none of it would be suitable, or even usable, after all this time. I opened the book and saw that the rest of the illustrations for each chapter were in black and white. There was no denying who he was but to be honest, he didn’t look so impressive in monochrome. However, the topic of haircuts was dropped as I immersed myself in the first chapter and auntie read mum’s story. # After the opening lines I was hooked. It may have been because I’d actually read very few books (other than those the school said I should) and I liked the way there was a cliff-hanger to finish each chapter. Auntie made cocoa, which made me even more cosy and warm and it wasn’t long before I couldn’t keep my eyes open. It was still relatively early when auntie suggested I toddled off to bed. “Even though you haven’t been far, I can see all that searching, reaching and lifting has left you quite drained.” She smiled as she indicated bed and I was stifling a yawn so had no way to object. The pyjamas felt wonderful, my thick nappy wasn’t bothering me even though it was fairly damp. “Do you need changing?” “No, it’s alright auntie, I’m not that wet…” the yawn escaped. “Mmmmyyhhhh, sorry, I’ll be fine thanks.” “Okay sweetheart, I’ll check in on you later. Don’t read for too long.” I climbed into bed. The rustle of both the protecting sheet and my own protection sounding a welcome I wasn’t sure I’d been too aware of previous nights. However, the pyjamas and blankets cocooned me in such fleecy softness I was asleep before I even noticed that auntie had cleaned and vacuumed up quite a bit of the dust. For the first time the room smelled of some kind of floral bouquet and not baby powder and pee. # My dreams were of Barnaby/me - yes we’d sort of morphed into the same person. I’d only read about four chapters but here I was, solving cases and chatting to influential people, dazzling them with my clever brain and powers of deduction. Except, I wasn’t actually solving anything. Every time I came to some conclusion and impressed the people present, I’d feel myself flooding my nappy and, afraid of being noticed or my shorts exhibiting the childish stain, would rush off under some ridiculous excuse. In the morning, I woke up to the most sodden of nappies, and although I hoped I hadn’t leaked, there were a few wet streaks on the bottom sheet. It took a few minutes for me to decide what to do. There was no point in pretending it had never happened and although I was sure I could just pull the covers back over the wet spot, I didn’t like to mislead auntie. Reluctantly I wandered downstairs where auntie was in the kitchen making a pot of tea. Already on the table were a bowl, a box of cereal and a glass of orange juice. # “Morning sweetheart, sleep well?” “Mmmm I think I must have done, although I dreamt of being Barnaby.” She smiled as she brought her cup to the table. I was wriggling and itching so she knew something was up. “Are you very wet?” I nodded. “Is it itchy?” I nodded again. “Shall we get you changed before breakfast?” I lifted the first spoonful of Frosties to my mouth. “No, it’s okay auntie, I think I can last but, erm, unfortunately… erm, the nappy leaked and the bottom bed sheet is a little wet... as are my pyjamas.” “Ohhh Sweetie, just when you hoped things were improving. Well, don’t worry about any of it. It’s happened, we can fix it with another nappy, and we’ll be back to normal in no time.” It wasn’t the speech I wanted to hear but auntie was being positive so I thought I should be as well. I delved into my cereal with a degree of pretend enthusiasm. # Back up in my room auntie was busy changing the bedding whilst I wriggled out of my pyjamas and bloated protection. There was no doubt about just how sodden the fabric was as it sloshed at my feet the moment I’d removed the voluminous plastic pants. Picking up the wet sheet, my pyjamas and the rest of the wet stuff auntie told me to get a shower and she’d see to me when I’d finished. In fact, auntie met me in the bathroom and once certain I was well dried made me lie out on the plastic covered counter. I was a bit big for it, no doubt the kids she’d changed on it in the past were the right size but I was fractionally too big and my legs hung over the edge. “Let’s first check about this itching.” I said nothing just let her get on with it. # I lay there naked, which was not unusual these days, as she set about inspecting every crevice. “Ohh sweetheart, the top of your legs are quite red… and so is your bottom…” She reached over and grabbed a tube of something. Squeezing whatever the tubes contents were onto her fingers she proceeded to rub a thick dollop of it all around my vitals. I was only slightly embarrassed when she told me to roll over so she could administer the same to my itchy red bum cheeks but, I was glad that something was being done to stop the irritation. “You know Adam, you shouldn’t sit in a wet nappy for too long, it can cause all manner of…” “Yes, sorry auntie.” I interrupted her words, I felt stupid because both mum and dad had made sure I was aware of the pitfalls of wearing wet nappy for too long, and, on top of that, auntie had also issued similar warnings. “Anyhow, we seem to have caught it before it can do too much damage and I think this cream will ease the itching and offer some future protection.” # She sprinkled baby powder over the thick gloopy salve and reached for a couple of soaker pads which she placed into a pre-folded nappy. With a bit of effort she pulled up a large pair of white rubber pants, which gripped and held me tightly before handing me my shorts and jumper. Unfortunately, after a moments struggle we both realised that the padding was too thick for me to pull my shorts over so auntie suggested I wear my suit instead. I wasn’t too sure but then she said it would be a shame to dress up and not go somewhere special so, she sent me up to my room to put it on. “… and don’t forget the shirt and tie…” She called as I scurried, with a very pronounced gait, up the stairs. # Two bus rides later and we were in the grounds of Henningsbrough Hall, Gallery and Gardens, a popular Nation Trust building from the 17th Century. Despite it being fairly local to where I lived, I’d never visited the place before and, as on the journey auntie had described some of its history, I was looking forward to the experience. Auntie loved the grounds most and although some of the flowers and exotic plants in the hot-houses weren’t all in bloom, the place was still a colourful and bouquet-filled encounter. Although with every step I could feel my huge padding gripping me tightly and making me aware of my problem. Thankfully, my new suit shorts hid the bulkiness quite well… I felt unbelievably proud and content. There were quite a few visitors. I suppose because it was the school break, more parents had decided to ‘treat’ their kids to the delights of a ‘bit of history’. To be honest, I was in my Sunday best, and it wasn’t even Sunday. I felt special looking around a huge mansion, which looked like a castle, so I found the entire thing fascinating. Once in the Hall itself, we joined a tour guide who led us from room to room and explaining how the Dukes, Knights and other very important people visiting the building lived. I became engrossed when he told the tale of the ‘Missing Crown’ and how, on a visit by the monarch, jewellery and a crown had gone missing. The monarch was said to have gone berserk at the theft and threatened the then encumbered Duke to find it or lose his head. # In the telling of this tale I suddenly found myself slipping into the boyish body of Barnaby Blue who no doubt would have no trouble untangling this web of treachery. As the story unfolded, my Barnaby persona took over and I was digesting each little piece of information and slotting it into a thought process that was sure to solve this ancient felony. I even saw myself presenting a very thankful Queen with the recovered crown and jewels; Her Majesty, so overcome with gratitude, made me Duke of Henningsbrough and I inherited the hall, the gallery and gardens. In the end I decided – the badly treated servants had made off with the loot. I’m sure Barnaby Blue would have been proud of such a concise assessment. # There were some boys from school I recognised as we toured around, some acknowledged me with a nod, some ignored me, whilst others passed with undisguised giggles. However, although I didn’t like the suit to start with, in auntie’s company I felt very smart and was actually living up to the grammar school’s policy of looking well-groomed and a credit to the superior educational establishment. Despite the shorts, and it has to be said the image of the talented Barnaby Blue in my head, I began to feel at ease with the way I dressed. He may be a clever young know-it-all but I had a respect for the little fellow I don’t think I ever had for any one before and, perhaps strange as it may seem, I felt more confident in myself. What was even nicer the tour guide seemed very enthusiastic to answer all my ‘probing’ questions. # We had lunch in the rather splendid café before we continued our tour of the gallery. Again I was quite taken by the huge paintings of the various important people in all their finery. Some were in armour, others robes of unbelievable elegance, whilst there were images of their children; many of whom, according to the guide, didn’t live very long lives, but looked wonderful in their colourful and refined outfits. Once again I was shocked when auntie pointed out a boy in a short sailor suit from around the turn of the 19th Century who she proclaimed was the dead ringer of me. His hair was long and the blue piping on his sailor suit was in shiny satin, his white socks up to his knees and his white linen shorts barely touching them, so, despite being aristocracy, I had to agree, did look a lot like me. His name was Anthony Barnaby Whitworth-Cleeve, and was the youngest son of the new owners who took over the house back in 1890. Another Barnaby? All I needed now was to know that’s what they called the young Italian boy and I really would be wondering about the way the Fates worked. I’d seen a huge painting of Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos in the gallery so actually knew who the Fates were, thanks to our ever knowledgeable tour guide. Anthony Barnaby Whitworth-Cleeve was just a boy in a painting, but like the advert and my affinity to Barnaby Blue (even though he wasn’t a real person) I was struck by the way I could so easily identify with them all on some level. There was something else that suddenly struck me… we all wore shorts. I’m sure this was just a coincidence but I felt a tingle run down my spine at this realisation. At the same time I felt the first spurt of pee into my nappy. Up until that moment I was feeling pretty proud of myself being in control, alas, that mood soon passed as a flood followed and I could do nothing to stem the flow. #tbc#

Part 9 After I’d eaten the sandwiches and finished my drink she suggested I went and retrieved the case so we could both discover its secrets. The way she spoke it was like we were both embarking on some kind of secret mission. I went upstairs and realised I needed a pee. This was the first time in ages that I hadn’t just filled my nappy. I stopped at the bathroom and began fiddling with the snaps under my crotch and eventually undid them. I just about had time to pull at the rubber pants and manoeuvre my willy from under the thick fabric, which meant that with a great deal of effort and aim, I actually got most of my pee in the toilet. Alas, when I tucked it back there were a couple of delayed little spurts left, which thankfully the thick fabric took care of. I was a bit annoyed with myself because I’d hoped I was perhaps on the way to control such calls of nature and angrily tried to fasten the snaps of the romper before I waddled up to the attic. It was all a bit fiddly so I failed, managing only to secure one snap. However, just seeing the case again renewed my excitement so picked it up and shuffled back down the two flights. As I negotiated the stairs the romper, which was hanging on by just the one stud, burst open completely under the strain and on my arrival in the living room was surprised to see Mrs Goodall sitting chatting away to auntie. I’d heard talking on the way down but thought it must have been the television and wasn’t expecting visitors. # I hadn’t been as careful as auntie had been when she’d tucked the rubber pants and nappy under the cotton of the romper so presented quite a sight to the old lady I’d suddenly confronted. I was carrying the fragile case with both hands so was in no position to shield myself from her gaze. The long loose ends of the romper flapped about and my huge plastic pants, which sagged well below, showed my protection to all and sundry. The yellowing edges of the fabric from where I’d so recently accidentally dripped were on full display… I looked a ragged mess. “Hello Adam,” she smiled, “nice to see you looking so… well.” She then turned to auntie. “Is that the onesie I made for the Bottomley boy last year?” “Yes it is, and what a brilliant piece of work it is too.” “Well you will keep taking in these problem children dear, I’m always surprised…” Auntie interrupted her. “How did the latest project go?” She dug deep into her bag and brought out something that looked like a pair of pyjamas. It was pale blue with dark blue highlights in a sort of fleecy type of material. She held it up for auntie to inspect. # Mrs Goodall is a small industrious little woman known for being a pretty terrific seamstress. She could (and did) knock up various items of clothing in minutes. She had a weird superpower, and that was, she could just look at the person she was making the item for and automatically know that person’s measurements. She was never wrong. I’d known her most of my life, although I wouldn’t say we were close, more she was one of auntie’s friends who I occasionally bumped into when visiting. # The item was a lot bigger than she was and struggled to show the entire thing off. “Put the case down Adam and help Mrs Goodall please there’s a good lad.” I did as I was told and Mrs Goodall then held the garment up against me, I was shocked to see it was my size. “I asked Mrs Goodall to make you some pyjamas sweetie because I thought you might not be happy about… well… you know.” She eyed my sagging protection. It was way past being discreet and Mrs Goodall seemed to know no barriers as she suggested I try it on to see if her usual splendid work lived up to her reputation. “Let me help you off with this…” Before I had chance to say anything both women were getting things done. Auntie pulled the entire red romper suit over my head, whilst our visitor unzipped the large one-piece pyjama. I was left standing with only a messily arranged nappy around my groin. “OK love,” Mrs Goodall said socially, “put your feet in the leg holes and… oh…” “Is there a problem Ada?” Auntie said. “I’ve just thought. I normally make these for younger kiddies… I’m afraid I’ve put the zip up the back.” She said as she zipped me up and I was suddenly embraced by a body-covering of fleece. “Well,” auntie said as she inspected the garment, “there’s plenty of room in it to hide the nap, erm, protection… and it fits in all the right places so, I think you’ve done a terrific job Ada… very nice indeed… and at such short notice.” # I was more than a little embarrassed by all this. Auntie had got me a suit I wasn’t happy about because of the shorts aspect to it and now, she’d gone to the expense of one-piece fleecy pyjamas, which appeared to be solely designed to hide a nappy. I was desperate to remind her of what she’d already said - that this need for nappies was just a temporary thing. I wanted to tell her that I’d already negotiated peeing in the toilet, although that seemed a silly thing to point out as I could feel the dampness spreading from those little late spurts, so decided to keep quiet. Also, I didn’t think it was a good idea to voice any such thoughts in front of Mrs Goodall. Auntie and her were still stroking the fleecy material and admiring the work involved. Mrs Goodall was saying she had plenty of similar material and was always being asked to make onesies and PJs for people. To prove her point she pulled another fleecy onesie, this time with short legs, from her huge bag and explained that she was making it for auntie’s ‘collection’ just in case she had any other ‘problem’ kids in the future. It looked like a blue version of the red one I’d just been wearing, although the press studs along the crotch looked a great deal more substantial than those previous ones. She also pulled out a pair of fleecy blue shorts, which she explained were to go with the onesie but were nice and loose to hide any bulge (she said that word quietly as if trying not to embarrass me). I didn’t realise at the time but these were also meant for me, auntie was preparing for the long term. Auntie thought she’d done a brilliant job and dived for her purse and handed Mrs Goodall a few notes. I couldn’t see precisely how much there was but both seemed happy with the transaction. # After Mrs Goodall had gone auntie looked at me in the full, new, fuzzy pyjamas and looked very pleased. “Well,” she said adjusting the fit on my hips, “you’ve got something to sleep and walk around the house in so you don’t have to feel embarrassed…” I shook. “Thanks auntie but it wasn’t necessary I…” “Nonsense dear, I’ve noticed your reluctance with having your nappy on show and, this was a bonus from Ada, er, Mrs Goodall, these shorts will cover it completely. Two very nice items don't you think?” To be honest the one-piece pyjama felt rather wonderful. The fabric seemed to caress my skin and, as I ran my hand over the bulge, the soft fabric made the thick cushioning seem like a soft, furry animal resting in my lap. At the same time I was experiencing that sensation, I was also worried that auntie appeared content with such a regression. “Auntie, don’t you think I’m a bit of, erm, a ‘problem’?” “What do you mean dear?” “Well, is this how you see me… a little toddler who’s still wetting his nappy?” Auntie looked at me as if trying to weigh up exactly what she wanted to say. # “I’m sorry love if that’s what you think.” She came and sat by my side and pulled me in for a cuddle. “I always think of you as that thoughtful little boy who went out of his way to be so loving and kind to his auntie.” She beamed. “When you were young and still in kindergarten those birthday and Christmas cards you made for me... were so special. The pleasure your company has always given me… and the continuing visits now you’re getting older. You’ve always been a kind-hearted and sweet boy… and I value all the time we spend together” She seemed to drift off slightly. I wasn’t sure what to say but I was enjoying that not only had auntie provided so much for me but unknown, I’d given something back, which I never realised. She hugged me tightly. “I can’t help it sweetheart. I still think of your mother as that sweet but scared little eight year-old who arrived at our door all those years ago. It doesn’t matter how old she gets, married and a wonderful family… that is the image that stays… and that’s because it means so much.” She hugged and looked into my eyes to push her point home. “No matter how old you get, you’ll always be that wonderful little boy who also means so much to me.” The problem I had was that auntie didn’t appear aware of the doubts that were running around my head because as far as she was concerned, this is how you take care of someone. Was I, like Mrs Goodall had intimated one of Aunt Annie’s problem kids she occasionally had to look after? I then began to think of all the other children over the years that she’d taken care of when their own parents couldn’t. Did she…? I was letting my imagination run wild and for no reason. Auntie had always looked after me with loving care so really she had no reason to change now, especially as I was having a bit of a wetting crisis. I was comfortable in her embrace but wasn’t feeling my age. I did suddenly feel like the little boy who excitedly visited auntie, reliving those happy times when it was just me and her together laughing and having fun. At that moment, I wasn’t worried about anything because, strangely enough, the nappy, plastic pants and pyjamas, together with auntie’s loving cuddle, was all that mattered and I felt safe and secure. It’s difficult to object when everything’s done in a spirit of love. # I lay contented for a few minutes before the phone rang and broke the mood. It was mum checking to see all was well. Auntie passed me the phone and for the next few minute’s I chatted to mum about what we’d been up to. She was as enthusiastic as ever and never mentioned my nappies, although she did say that Geoff and Joe had gone off camping for a couple of days (thanks to the generosity of auntie I didn’t doubt), which had been wonderful for her and dad. I knew she was joking and it was good to hear her having a laugh at her kid’s expense. Eventually I passed the phone back to auntie and, leaving me on the sofa watching TV, she slowly walked into the kitchen for a bit of privacy. For a moment I was worried that she’d tell mum that my wetting was getting worse and that might upset her. However, I had no say in what they talked about or discussed so it was pointless getting in a panic over it. Auntie came back with a huge smile on her face. “Your mum is really missing you.” I smiled back, hoping that was true. “Apparently you need a haircut before you go back to school so how about I take you to Pritchard’s tomorrow?” # Pritchard’s was a barbers three streets over. Like most businesses in the area it was run from a corner plot at the end of a long street of back to back houses. I’d been once before and it was a very old fashioned place but Mr Pritchard had been taught be his father, and he was teaching his son the tricks of the trade himself. So three generations of the family were, or were becoming, barbers. # I nodded because I knew the school would send a note to my parents if I didn’t keep up those ‘grammar school standards’ of smartness, cleanliness, decency and good behaviour. With all this going on I almost forgot about the tatty blue container I’d brought down for our inspection. In one way I didn’t want to open it in case it didn’t have the book, yet on the other hand I was fascinated to see what my mum’s secrets were. Eventually curiosity got the better of me and I sat with it on my knee and carefully lifted its lid. A tiny fluffy teddy, a small, still dressed, doll and a bunch of faded paper flowers were what greeted our curious eyes. A diary of my mum’s thoughts and poems, a report card from when she was fifteen and several sheaves of a story she was writing. I was fascinated to see how creative mum was when she was a girl; I hadn’t seen any such leanings at home. Of course I had every intention of reading everything but first I needed to sort through what remained and either find or discount the existence of the Barnaby Blue book altogether. There, at the very bottom of the pile was the very thing I’d been searching for. #tbc#

Part 3 Once I get the bus from the end of our street the trip into town usually takes about twenty minutes. It’s a route I’ve travelled many times both alone and with family. I’ve often travelled to aunties unaccompanied, well, since I was ten, so the journey holds no fear for me and besides, in winter I take the bus to school… although that’s only part of the distance. I’m familiar with crossing town and catching the Number 43 which then takes me up to aunties but on this occasion I’d just missed a connection. However, I don’t often get into town on my own so, the curiosity to fill the twenty minutes waiting time with a look around the department stores was just too good to miss. Although I have the odd pair of ‘long’ jeans (they are very old hand-me-downs that are pretty patched and tatty) mum doesn’t like me going anywhere if I’m not relatively smart. Like for school, as I don’t possess other long trousers, I’m dressed in shorts. I know I’m perhaps one of only a few boys my age that still has to wear shorts but due to our financial position I don’t make a fuss. Anyway, the prospect of me soon getting my first ‘grown-up suit’ all to myself meant I was in a fairly good mood, despite the padding that was filling my smart-ish grey shorts. # The truth about my ‘wardrobe’ of clothes - even all the hand-me-down stuff – the shorts at least seemed to be robust enough to remain relatively neat and tidy, which is perhaps why I had plenty and still wore them whenever we went anywhere. I’m the youngest, smallest and it’s never looked that much out of place being dressed in such a fashion. My two brothers are much taller than me and it isn’t just the few years age gap that makes the difference. In attitude, activities and size, I am still the baby of the bunch (which they never let me forget, especially now I have to wear nappies at night), always following, never leading like Joe and Geoff seem to have no trouble in doing. Even when I play out on our estate there’s a couple my age running around wearing the same as me. Where we live no one has money to throw away and often, especially when there were large families, clothes had to stretch through several age groups and last until the youngest kid had grown up? I knew a couple of boys on the estate who were the youngest in a family of girls and the items that had to be adapted (or not) for them to wear… sheesh... at least we were all boys in my family. However, mum always kept some of my shorts for ‘special’ occasions. That simply meant I wasn’t allowed to play out in them so had a clean and relatively smart pair for such visits as going to see auntie. We called these my ‘best’ shorts, just so mum could differentiate between ‘playing out’, ‘school’ or ‘best’ shorts, when letting me know what to wear. On this occasion I wore school grey shorts, which in truth were quite stretched over the bulky protection, a t-shirt under a thick jumper, long grey socks, black shoes and a nice warm jacket -more or less my usual clothes during the cooler months. Mum had also loaded my backpack with the things I’d need for a few days stay with auntie; my jammies, shirts and shorts and hopefully some spare undies. She’d also written a ‘thank you’ card, which I was under strict instructions to give to auntie the moment I arrived. I assumed it would also contain a little bit of ‘private’ gossip mum had picked up at work that she wanted to share. # As I wandered around ‘window-shopping’ and choosing what I’d like if I had the money to buy whatever I wanted, I was well aware of the thick padding mum had made sure I wore that morning. It was fun looking at all the stuff and wishing we were rich enough for me to indulge myself, but of course this wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Time just flew by and before I knew it forty minutes had passed and I’d missed another connecting bus. Meanwhile, I was regularly pulling at my crotch trying to make myself more comfortable from the slight bunching that was going on but the plastic pants made getting a grip difficult so just ended up with partial relief. What I hadn’t realised was that with all the pulling and pushing, and attempts at getting more snug, my shorts had ridden up and the plastic pants were visible from the back. I’d heard a few comments and giggles as I made my way around some of the shops but it never occurred that I was the centre of attention. However, I noticed the time and anxiously made my way back to the bus stop and hoped the Number 43 would come quickly as I was desperate to use the toilet. I knew I could last twenty minutes even though my bladder felt like it was about to burst but hoped I could control myself until I got there. On top of that, I hadn’t actually done a Number 2 that morning (even though I told mum I had) so that was something else brewing I could have done without. So, despite being a bit uncomfortable I was confident my nappy would remain pristine, and with any luck auntie wouldn’t know about the padding and I could change to my normal underwear once there. # The bus was taking forever to come and the queue was getting longer. What should have been a maximum trip of an hour was now stretching to two. A couple of older boys were standing behind me pointing and laughing whilst unaware I was the subject of their amusement. “My brother has to wear pants like them,” I heard one of them say. “Yer (giggles) but he’s only two (more giggles)” And then I felt a hand brush my bottom and end up touching the rim of my plastic pant leg. “Ain’t that sweet… he’s wearing a nappy as well.” I was horrified at their discovery and the easy way I was made to feel so babyish. It didn’t help that I blushed furiously and was unable to have a comeback comment. I felt my eyes tear up and I heard the boys in mock seriousness say. “Don’t cry baby… I’m sure mummy will be along soon to change you.” They made some other babyish noises and it was only when an old lady told them to stop and that they should be ashamed of picking on a “young kid” that they finally departed in hysterics and I was left being comforted by a pensioner. “Don’t cry sweetheart... the bullies have gone.” She spoke low and soothing. “The bus will be here soon.” The problem I now had was I was desperate to pee. I knew there was a public toilet not far away but I wasn’t sure that if I went I’d miss my bus again. Caught in such a quandary my mind was made up as I saw the bus coming along the street but at the same time a shiver ran down my body for some reason and felt the first warming spurt of pee into my nappy. Because of the traffic, by the time the bus had slowly ambled along the street I was standing bow-legged, well soaked and in well-expanded plastic pants. For the second time, I’d wet myself in public. I waddled onto the bus, paid my fare and squishily sat down in my flooded protection. Thankfully I hadn’t leaked and I just hoped no one knew what I’d done. I nervously looked around the other passengers and nobody but the old lady was looking at me. She had a benign smile and was nodding as if to say “Everything will be alright now”. I tentatively smiled back. However, an old problem was now making itself known more forcefully, my bowel was sending windy, farty messages, that it also needed an outlet. I prayed to anyone who might be able to help not to let me fill my nappy whilst on the bus because I knew I couldn’t hide that particular action if I did. # The journey seemed to take forever. There were queues to get on or off the bus at each bus stop, which made the entire ride at a snail’s pace. I was afraid to let out the vast amount of wind that I knew was filling up my bum because I was scared of the results should I lose control and let rip. It was getting painful. I had the backpack on my lap and was surprised at just how hard I was clutching it as uncomfortable jolts of pain travelled around my lower body. I feared a massive eruption if I didn’t get relief soon. After what seemed like an eternity the bus arrived at my destination. I’d sat wriggling in tremendous discomfort and now, as I was about to get up and leave my seat, the full weight of my saturated nappy felt like it was holding me down. My shorts had risen up and my plastic pants were visible for all to see as I cautiously shuffled to the door to be allowed my escape. I could hear a few murmurs as the rest of the passengers took in the view. # An old lady got off before me as I struggled to dismount and I held on to the bus stop for support. A sudden pain drove through my guts as the door closed and the bus set off. It was such a relief getting off, but with the strain of holding it in for so long something had to give, so, with the noisiest of farts, I filled the rear of my nappy. “Uuuurrrggg.” Escaped my lip, followed by an equally strange moan as my bowel emptied and I could do nothing but groan and felt my protection filling up whilst doing its best to soak it all up. I stood at the bus stop with my legs wide, afraid to move in case the mess somehow spurted out and covered the vicinity. “Aren’t you Annie Lomax’s nephew?” The kindly lady who’d just got off the bus with me queried. I nodded. “Have you had a bit of an accident?” It was a rhetorical question because my face, the smell and my soggy stance all proclaimed in a huge non-verbal way what had just happened. “Come on dear let me help get you to your aunties.” She couldn’t have been more understanding as she held my elbow and guided me slowly the few hundred yards to my aunt’s house. She knocked on the door and it was opened by auntie looking somewhat surprised. “Is this the clever, grammar school boy you’re so proud of?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, he’s just shit his-self.” With that she turned away before auntie could respond and left me feeling more like a ridiculous little toddler than I’d ever felt before. “Oh dear, I was expecting you over an hour ago?” # tbc #

Part 2 I had plenty of time to think about my situation. Of course, the class would have a field day from then on, mum and dad would be none too pleased and I could hear my brothers thoroughly enjoying my humiliation with their not so subtle barbed quips At last mum arrived carrying a large bag, which I hoped would contain some fresh clothes. “Hi mum,” I said nervously. “Sorry about all this… erm, uh, it was an accident.” Although she kissed the top of my head in greeting I detected she wasn’t very happy at having been summoned to pick me up. “You okay sweetheart?” There was little affection in the acknowledgment. I nodded but matron had come out to meet mum and they disappeared into her office without me and without leaving her bags for me to get changed. I could hear talking but it was very low and I didn’t get much of an idea what exactly was being discussed. A few minutes later mum surfaced but without the bag. “Can I change…?” “Sorry Adam, that was things matron needed for any future ‘accidents’.” She emphasised the last word and I knew I was in trouble from her tone. “But mum, I, I, I… erm…” “Let’s get you home and changed…” “Mum I can’t walk around the school dressed like this people will see and… and…” “I wouldn’t worry about that…” Before I could say another word she grabbed my hand and was leading me out of school, across the playground and out onto the main street where we had to catch a bus home. I felt so self-conscious standing in the queue waiting for a Number 63 that would take us to the end of our street because I knew the little white nylon shorts were showing the world I was wearing a thick disposable. # I didn’t know what to say - I was grumpy, scared and ashamed. The way mum all but dragged me out of school meant I was on very dodgy ground if I complained and, like I was a little kid, she still held my hand as we waited. My school blazer didn’t cover much of my childish shorts so the thick padding protruding from the leg holes was very obvious. I felt awful, I could feel the emotion begin to fill me up. Mum must be so humiliated by her grammar school going son wetting his pants in class. What kind of eleven (almost twelve) year old has that kind of accident “… it beggars belief”. It wasn’t a long bus ride but it was a very guilty journey. I wasn’t sure I could justify falling asleep in class, even for a few seconds, without me sounding a little thoughtless and pathetic. Even though this was a one off, for some reason I knew this was a turning point in mum’s opinion of me. She’d been so proud of her youngest going to grammar school but now everyone could see that I was nothing but a pant-wetting baby who was obviously way out of his depth. Mum was taking no notice of my ‘sniffles’ and whispered ‘sorrys’ and we didn’t speak until we got home. # The main thing I wanted when we got through the door was a hug. A hug that meant that mum understood it was an accident and that I was sorry to have caused her such embarrassment. Alas she had me stand in the kitchen whilst she unfurled the plastic bag matron had given me with my damp clothes in. Unceremoniously she emptied my shorts and underpants in to the washing machine, where my night time fabric nappies had been soaking since the morning. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders as if she’d come to a conclusion. “Okay Adam, go and take off your uniform and hang it up… give me those shorts I’ll give them a rinse through… but keep the disposable on.” “But mum I don’t want…” “At this moment Adam, it’s best I don’t hear any argument from you… just do as you’re told. I’ll be up in a minute.” I’ve never seen mum really lose her temper, well, not with me, but I could tell she wasn’t happy about the day’s events. I furtively made my way upstairs, scared that the disposable crinkling might make too much noise and I didn’t want to upset her in any way. Once in my room I did as I was told and hung up my blazer and tie, put my shirt on a hanger, then took off my shoes and put my socks, one of which still felt damp from my accident, into the hamper in the bathroom and waited for mum. The disposable was a lot bigger than the one I’d worn before and as I inspected it my mind began to wander… and wonder. I wondered what it would be like to wet such a large object? How many times would I have to pee to completely saturate it and how much would it expand as a result? If I did a poo in it how much would it hold? # I’d not had any such thoughts before, even when mum put me in my first night time nappy a while ago; it must have been the novelty of the disposable. I was standing in front of the mirror, examining it from all angles, completely absorbed in these questions when mum came in. She sat down on my bed and tapped the space by her side as an invitation. She looked at me in a very serious manner as if she was deciding just how to approach a difficult subject. “What’s going on with you at the moment?” Her eyes searched my face desperate for an answer that would be realistic and plausible. I had no idea. I knew I’d begun to wet in my sleep but other than that, the accident at school was just that, an accident. “Nothing mum, honest.” “What about your bed wetting?” “Erm, um, er, I, I, I don’t know. I just wake up wet and I can’t remember any reason why I should.” “Do you know you’re doing it?” I hated this question because it made it sound like I wanted to pee my pants and I didn’t. I was on the verge of tears. “Nooooo.” Why would anyone want to wet the bed, or worse, wet in front of their entire class. Of course I don’t mean to do it. I didn’t say that I hoped my emphatic denial would be enough. I’m not a liar. Mum knows I don’t tell fibs because when I was younger and did, my face would just go red and she’d know instantly… so I don’t lie to her or dad. “Are you being bullied?” “No mum, nothing like that honest. I just don’t know. I mean, I was just not paying attention in class today and before I knew it…” I left the obvious outcome as I indicated the huge disposable I was now wearing. “Did you fall asleep in class?” It was a tricky question because I’d been thinking about this and I might have just nodded off for a short while. I didn’t want to admit to mum I’d found the teacher’s voice and subject both boring but… ‘Yes’, I did drift off. “Mmm maybe.” “Oh Adam.” She seemed genuinely disappointed and that made me feel guilt-ridden. “I’m sorry mum it won’t happen again, honest.” She sighed. # “Look Adam, the school has very high standards and a boy who wets his pants in class, well; it isn’t looked on with any degree of sympathy.” I looked at mum wondering if I’d been expelled and began to tear up again. “I’m sorry mum,” I sniffled into her bosom hoping for some comfort, “It won’t happen again.” She hugged me close and patted my padded bottom. She sighed again and pulled me away so she could see my face. “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to wearing protection for school because…” I roared as the full weight of what she was telling me sunk in. There was no holding back the tears and it was a good five minutes before she could calm me down. “They will not put up with boys of any age wetting in class. I couldn’t convince them you don’t have a problem especially when they asked if you wet at home and, sorry darling, but I had to be honest about you wearing protection at night.” She hugged me close. “So from now on, until I can convince them otherwise… you’ll need to wear protection for school.” So the package mum brought was ‘insurance’ the school wanted so they could sort out any future accidents. I was both angry and impressed. Angry that they assumed it was going to be a regular thing but impressed that they intended to make sure I didn’t miss any lessons because of it. Mum surreptitiously patted and checked my disposable and decided I was dry enough. “Let’s get you sorted,” she said and produced a pair of glassy white plastic pants to pull over the large mass of material. “This should keep you… and everything else dry…” She smoothed and patted the slinky material down. “You might as well stay in them for the time being.” She passed me a pair of hand-me-down grey shorts, which were a little baggier than usual but now, thanks to the bulk around my waist, fitted perfectly. # “The headmaster has said that you are falling behind in class because you aren’t concentrating and that you’re easily distracted. He hopes that if you have to wear a nappy it might focus your mind a little more.” Tears were cascading down my face but I couldn’t disagree, I was finding it very difficult to keep focused in lessons. However, I hadn’t known it was that obvious, that it had been noticed, that the Head was involved and now my mum knew. I felt like I’d let everyone down and as punishment, I was being put permanently back in nappies. “Look sweetheart, don’t be too downhearted… it’s the weekend in three days… then you have seven days end-of-term break and… Auntie says your new suit is ready so I’ve arranged for you to go over and stay with her for a while.” The thought of soon having my own grown-up suit was just the information I needed to lift me from the current low ebb. I hoped I could manage nappies in school until the weekend before we had a week’s holiday and hopefully, by my return to lessons, I’d be cured of my wetting problem. However, that night I slept in the disposable the school had put me in but still woke up soaked the following morning. I wasn’t sure why I thought it would make a difference… but it hadn’t. I think I slept better wearing the disposable than the fabric nappy but mum had mentioned that we weren’t made of money, and disposables were expensive, so it would be re-useable, well-padded fabric nappies until I was able to use the toilet properly. I don’t think mum was chastising me, just letting me know the way things were and how the school saw things. I knew I would have to ‘grow out of it’, as my brothers kept telling me when I complained about their constant ribbing, but I didn’t know how. I wasn’t doing it on purpose. That morning mum cleaned me up, pinned me tightly in a fabric nappy with a couple of soaker pads, made sure the thick rubber pants contained everything and sent me off to school as usual. # I walked slowly; there was a slight rustling sound as the rubber worked against my polyester grey shorts, which I hoped no one but me could hear. It felt a bit uncomfortable though I’m sure at certain angles, that glossy white latex protection was visible and easily identifiable. I was anxious the entire day but not once did I feel like falling asleep in a lesson. So the Head had been right about that. # At night you don’t really feel the way a nappy can bunch up or grab your bits and pieces and hold them in a strange way. But, wearing them during the day, I was very aware I had this huge piece of padding between my legs... I couldn’t help continually adjusting them. # For school Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I wore the same ‘underwear’ and got the same comments and jokes. Kids holding their noses announcing they could smell pee, baby references, offers to change my diaper (how very American some of them had become) and almost continuous pats to my padded backside. Each day my nappy was quite damp by the time I got home but I think this was more from fear of revealing it if I went to the boy’s room - although, to be honest, in retrospect, I might have only been fooling myself on this. Thankfully, I avoided any further calamities and my protection prevented any further wet stains appearing on my shorts. This meant that the supply of disposables mum had left with matron remained unused, although she did look at me suspiciously because I hadn’t been to see her. As I say, I’m not a fighter so just had to put up with it but as far as I was concerned the week’s break couldn’t come soon enough. On top of that, getting away from my equally irritating brothers (who were taking great pleasure in my humiliation), to stay with auntie seemed the best possible solution to my current low esteem. “Hey mum,” Joe shouted across the room one morning when I came down in a very wet nappy, “Is there a grammar kindergarten anywhere locally for my clever baby brother?” He laughed at his own joke but mum gave him such a look it soon wiped the smile off his face. # I’d woken up this promising Saturday morning unfortunately wet, very wet, so mum made me wear thick protection (she said ‘we’ were not taking any chances). Once I was all cleaned up surprisingly she produced a disposable only a slightly bit smaller than the one matron had fastened me in. This fit me better, and because of the extra padding she inserted into it, it felt a lot tighter. Once she’d added the plastic pants I thought I was definitely well protected for what was really just an hour’s journey time. Actually, it was two trips; the first was the bus from home into town, and then catch another bus across town to get up to auntie’s house. I thought I could last that long easily and, as I didn’t want to wear a nappy any longer than I had to, hoped that once I got to auntie’s she would let me wear my normal underwear. However, there is a saying I’ve heard my father use – the best-laid plans of mice and men… I was about to find out just what that phrase meant. # tbc #

Elise struggled not to cry. She squirmed and screamed as each blow smacked loudly on her behind, but the indignity of her childish position over the stranger's lap would only be made worse if she gave in and cried."OW! OW! STOP! You can't do this to me!" she cried out."Are you going to be a good girl?" the man she only knew as "Daddy" said."Let me go! You can't spank me!" She tried to struggle, but he held her firmly over his lap with his left hand on her twisted arm as he spanked her already red bottom with his right. She couldn't manage to budge him."It seems I can little girl. And after this you are going to your room for a time out.""NO! I'm not a little girl! For god's sake I went to college!"He reached for her belt buckled. She squealed as he undid it and pulled her pants down, followed by her underwear."Silly girl won't need these anyway. We'll get you dressed properly.""No," she said. What could THAT mean?He took the belt out of her pants, folded it, and swung it at her behind hard. It hit with a loud CLAP, and she screamed out."You've been a very bad girl," he said, and spanked her again. "You are going to obey me whether you like it or not, and you will learn to be good." He hit her again."OW!" she screamed. She began to cry. "Alright," she said, "I'll be good.""Good girl," he stood her up. She tried to lift up her pants to cover her sore read bottom, but he swatted her hands away and spanked her with the belt. "No," he said, "good girls don't do that." He stood up beside her. Tall, thick, and broad shouldered, he loomed over her easily, and she cowered in front of him.Without letting her pull up her pants, he began to drag her by the wrist through the strange building she had just arrived at. It was a sprawling complex, and they passed through several halls and flights of stairs. Every room she passed has its own odd theme, and the people around them were dressed to match. There were people dressed in leather next to rooms full of bondage equipment, people dressed in collars next to rooms with dog beds and dog bowls, men in bright pink skirts, more still in maids going from room to room cleaning, and all through out them stern looking men and woman directing them. What had she gotten herself into?She began to wonder where she would end up. The bright skirts didn't seem that bad, but she never was one for cleaning, so she hoped she wouldn't become a maid. The bondage equipment frightened her, so she hoped to avoid it too. The dog beds just seemed embarrassing."Here we are," he said, pointing at a closed door. There were four other people around it in black clothing, and she stared at them nervously. "Oh, don't worry about them," he said, "they are just here to help." He reached over to her and ruffled her hair, then reached into his pocket and took out a ring of keys and began going through them."What is in there?" she said, sniffling. He smiled. "You'll see." He pushed the door open, dragged her in, and turned on the light. She gasped at the sight.This was worse then the dog beds. This was worse then the MAIDS clothes."No, no no," she said, and tried to back away."Are you arguing with me AGAIN, girl?" he said. It had taken her a moment to understand what she saw. The room inside was a gigantic nursery. It was painted a sickening pink color, and filled with infantile furniture sized for an adult. A full sized crib dominated the room, flanked by a high chair, changing table, and clothing shelves covered with diapers and onesies.Worse still, laid out on the crib for her to see, was what she realized would be her new out fit. It consisted of a pink dress decorated pastel pinks and blues, a bonnet, mittens, long stockings, and to top everything off, a thick diaper printed with rabbits. Worse still, there was a series of ropes and locks arrayed in front of them."You can't do this to me!" Elise said.A split second later her world was upside down again as he flipped her over his lap. "NO!" she screamed, and tried to kick her way out."BAD BABY!" he shouted, and began spanking her with her belt. She started crying with the first blow, and each smack after that brought out more and more tears until all she could do was lay helplessly on his lap and sob.Satisfied that the fight was out of her, he turned her back until she was sitting on his lap, then lifted her cradled in his arms. "Now, lets get you dressed.""Nooo," she pouted. This time, however, she didn't fight him as he lay her down in the crib. To her surprise, there was a mirror on the ceiling above it, and she saw herself, the crib and the outfight clearly. She tried to separate herself from it- another red headed girl about to be put in diapers, another blond haired man doing it, but she realized she'd have no choice but to watch her own humiliation occur. It was a clever, if cruel, touch.The four helpers in dark clothing were around her. They held her limbs down as he pulled her pants the rest of the way off, then took her shirt off. Finally, he lifted the diaper up in front of her and opened it up slowly, smiling as he saw her expression changed from moping to fear and embarrassment."No, please. I don't want to be a diaper girl. Maid, pet, anything but that," she said."Don't worry," he said, "you'll get used to it." He lay it underneath her and spread powder liberally over her. "No," she moaned one last time, half hardheartedly trying to move her bottom out of the way and give some kind of resistance, but she was stopped by another spank from his hand. She watched in dread as he folded the diaper up and taped it on. He followed it with plastic panties, which he locked in place. With the help of the other four, he dressed her fully in the dress, bonnet, stockings and mittens. They tied the ropes to her limbs, and left her with her arms stretched to the top corners of the crib and her legs folded on top of her, unfortunately lifting her skirt to leave her diaper visible. He dismissed the others before presenting the coup de grace of her humiliation- a big pink pacifier with straps dangling to each side. He shoved it in her mouth, and she felt the bulb fill it up and gag her. He tied it behind her head."There. No way to move or complain, no way to get in trouble. A silent baby is a good baby. We will need the straps until you learn to keep pacis in your mouth without them." She groaned inwardly. How long would it take to 'learn' that? How long would she be diapered for?"Now, we are going to play a game. I'll be asking you questions, and you can shake your head yes or no. If you're a good baby, you'll get treats. If you're a bad baby, you'll get spanked. We'll see if we can work our way up to letting you talk, then maybe moving around a bit before bed time. Ready?"She groaned, this time out loud. That resulted in a hard smack on her diapered bottom and her getting scolded as a 'bad baby." She tried to look away from her tormentor, but just ended up looking at her own reflection- locked in a crib, clearly visible diaper under her skirt, and sucking a pacifier as a stranger spanked her. She tried to look around, but everywhere was more evidence of her new status- piles of diapers, childish toys, the high chair, a playpen- it was unavoidable. She pushed the thoughts out of her head and tried to listen to his questions, hoping she could somehow make it better by pretending to play along. What had she gotten herself into?...She tucked her head down and tried to hide as she was lead by her leash into the shopping center. The leash wasn't attached to a collar- oh no, even though she wore one complete with tags that gave her name, "Diapered ABDL" status and the address and name of her owner (though she was told she only needed to know him as "Daddy,") having the leash attach to her collar like most submissive would have been to easy, and given the wrong idea. Instead, she wore a harness like the ones normally intended for toddlers, and which gave her no choice but to follow. More ropes dangled from it, and attached to the cuffs at on her hands, followed by another rope between her legs that would have kept her from running if the leash wasn't already doing the same thing. To top it all off, she had her hands in baby mittens, leaving them useless anyway, and she had a pacifier securely strapped to her mouth.'At least I'm not in a stroller this time," she thought to herself. THAT had been humiliating. However, at least then she could pretend she could hide in the seat. Now, walking among the staring and giggle crowds, there was no way to hide her state. Her stomach groaned, and she tried to hide it. THAT was something she didn't want anyone to notice.She still liked to pretend she could. Though her dress, stockings, and pigtails were childish enough, the harness added insult to injury by announcing "Baby Girl," across her chest and back. However, she kept kept her head down, imagining it hid the pacifier along with her face, and she reached her hands down to smooth the annoyingly short skirt, doing her best to hide the thick diaper underneath it. It was futile, she knew- the loud, crinkling plastic filled her ears as the smell of baby powder filled her nose, and the forced waddle was easy enough to recognize if anyone knew what to look for. However, she tried to do her best without her Daddy noticing.Elise saw him looking at her hands, and she snapped them back up. Getting caught trying to hide her diapers was something she had been warned against. He chuckled, and smacked her hard on the bottom. "Bad baby," he said. "If that skirt is too tempting for you, I might just help you out by taking it away and letting you waddle around the mall with your diapers showing."She shook her head, eyes going wide. Much as she hated to admit it, he was good at what he did. Very little got passed him, and he seemed to know what she was going to do before she did it.He nodded. "Good baby. Now, keep your eyes up, I want people to see my baby's pretty face."He began walking again and led her onward. Instinct and shame still made her want to keep her face down, but she fought against both. The fear of her punishment was worse then a few snickers and laughter, and she endured it as best she could. The mall was huge, with stores she had never seen before lining both sides of the hall in a massive enclave that rose several stores. Some were typical- clothing stores, a few name brands, books, music- while others were designed for the exact type of lifestyle she was now in, ranging from broad ranges of kinks to more specific ones. "Pet" stores, 'punishment' centers, 'work cloths' stores- she dreaded to see what was in store for her. For now, she simply had to walk in the center of the most visible, crowded hall, something she was sure her 'Daddy" had planned. It seemed he planned most things ahead."One day you'll see this is all for your own good," he told her. "See that? That is where we are going, and you are going to happily pick out a little baby toy for yourself, beg daddy for it, and show it off to everyone we meet." He pointed to the end of a long hallway, and she could have cried at what she realized was the final destination of her humiliating journey. A massive store, set up to look like a toy store, but instead filled adult sized toys, furniture, and garments, its banner in brightly colored block letters calling it "The Big Baby Store." It had everything needed to embarrass an abdl girl. "Or please one", she thought, as she saw another woman skipping along, flouncing skirt revealing the pull up underneath.- wait... did she know that girl? She was gone to fast to be sure- She saw far too many of them, and worried over how many had begun resisting and fell into it.She had another problem coming. Her stomach groaned again, and she almost doubled over from a cramp. She had been cramping since breakfast, but tried to hold it in. It was silly, she knew, as she would never be afforded the right to use the bathroom. She had gotten used to wetting herself, but part of her still wanted to resist using her diaper for... that. She saw her Daddy glancing her way and chuckling to himself.Her stomach groaned again, and this time she farted loudly into her diaper."What was that sweetie? You say something?" her Daddy said in a teasing voice. She looked at him sadly. "No, I think your little bum bum did. Her, let daddy check your diaper."She squealed loudly from behind her pacifier as her turned her around and lifted her skirt, exposing her diaper to the entire mall. More people started laughing behind her, and she squirmed in embarrassment. It would have been bad enough had it been a plain white one, but the one she wore today was designed to look like a true pamper, covered all over with cutesy pictures of pacifiers, bottles and teddy bears, and with thick purple stripes along the sides. Added to that were clear plastic pants that locked in the top, just in case she could find a way to open a diaper with her hands in the ridiculous mittens."Hmmm I don't know baby girl. You certainly are a smelly butt, and definitely damp," he reaches his hand between her legs to the front of her diaper, and she squirmed again, eliciting more laughter from her growing crowd.'Why is he taking so LONG!" she thought. He kept prodding and patting her as people laughed and she grew redder and redder, commenting on her personal hygiene. "Such a silly little girl. Still in diapers at your age! Do you need daddy to give you a change?" Finally, he lifted her entire skirt, front and back, clasped it in one hand and pulled open the back of her diaper with the other. At the same time, another cramp hit, and she heard herself fart loudly again as he was checking her, getting the loudest laughter yet. She couldn't bear it any longer, and reached down to pull her skirt in front of her diaper.She instantly regretted it. Her Daddy stood up from the crotched position he had taken while checking her, and she backed away as he leaned over her.He undid the strap of her pacifier and took it out. Despite the newfound freedom from it, she knew better then to speak now."Sweetie, what did I tell you about holding your skirt?""I..." she was afraid to answer."Good babies don't try to hide their diapers. Bad babies do that. Good babies aren't afraid to show off how cute they are.""Yes, Daddy.""And what did you do?""I held down my skirt to hide my diapers."She felt a sharp smack on the back of her diaper and yelped."Bad baby!" he said. "What did I say would happen?""No Daddy please! Its embarrassing!""Well, I bet its embarrassing to be a naughty adult woman walking around in diapers. It should be. A little baby, however, is fine. If its embarrassing to walk around with your diaper showing, then you clearly need more practice doing it. We'll have to give you more opportunities to show off."He took out a remote and hit a button on it. She felt her hands being pulled upward by the rope toward her chest. Once they were folded in front of her, he reached down to grab the hem of her skirt. As always, he was doing it as slowly as possible, letting her dread grow."Please daddy. I promise I'll be a good baby," she said. Unlike other times she had said it, she meant it. Fighting him was turning out to be much worse then going along with what he said."You better be," he replied. He undid the buttons on her skirt and tossed it into a bag. "Now, about you being a gassy baby. Do you know what that means?""Uhhh... nooo.." she tried to reply but felt another cramp. She was shocked by how hard they were coming, and how quickly they were getting worse. "What, Daddy?""What did I tell you to do when you needed to go potty?""I uhhh...""Tell me unless you want a spanking."She blushed and looked down. "Good babies don't hold back their messes. Good babies go the second they need to and fill their diapers for their daddy's to change. They like making presents for their daddy's because it proves they are babies."He nodded. "Exactly right. Good baby." She tried to hide the embarrassing pride of finally getting something right."But Daddy, do I..." she glanced over to where she saw a public bathroom, but knew what the answer would be. "How long..."He shook his head. "Don't worry about how long we'll be in the mall for, I promise you'll be good and stinky before we are gone, and your bare pampers will be visible to all.""Daddy!" she whined."Now, if you had listned to what Daddy told you and filled your pampers when you first started feeling the cramps this morning at home, what would have happened?""I..." how did he know when she first felt them? How much could he figure out?"Sweetie, be a good baby. I know its difficult for a little diaper girl like you, but see if you can figure it out. Daddy changes you whenever you need it. If you had filled your pampers at home, what would have happened then, and what wouldn't be happening now? Can you figure it out sweetie?"She blushed at such a simple question worded so condescendingly. "I would have been changed at home, Daddy, and wouldn't need to mess now."He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Good baby! Such a smart baby!" To her embarrassment, Elise giggled as he said it. "So if you were a good baby and listened to Daddy, you wouldn't have this problem now. Since you were a bad baby and didn't, you're going to end up messing your diapers in front of all these people, then walk around the mall with your stinky pampers. Sound like fun?""No Daddy!" she whined."And since Daddy locked you in those plastic pants and your spare diapers are at home, it means you'll spend a lot of time in your mess before you get changed. Sound like fun?""No Daddy," she said. She knew exactly where this was going, but couldn't argue. There was nothing TO argue this time. She hated to admit to herself he was right."So, what was the better option- listening to Daddy, filling your diapers like a good baby, and getting changed immediately at home, or not listening, being a bad baby, and walking around a mall in smelly?"She sighed and looked down in shame. "Listening to Daddy, being a good baby, and filling my diapers when I needed to." She felt the cramps come again- it would be coming out soon whether she liked it or not, and she knew he was right about the last time she held it in."Do you think its fair to make people have to smell your stinky diapers?""No Daddy.""So what should you have done, and what should you always, always do? Who should you listen to, even if you don't know why?""I should always, always be a good baby and listen to Daddy. I should always listen to Daddy because Daddy always knows best." She hated hearing the words from her mouth."Good baby," he said, ruffling her hair. "Since you were good since then, if your lucky, I might pick up some cute new diapers at the Big Baby store and change you in the bathrooms here. If you are good. Now, I think there is something you were going to do for Daddy? What was that?""I... I was going to make a present for Daddy in my diapers, because I want to be a good baby." She said. 'Change in the bathrooms? In PUBLIC? Could he do that?' she thought. It seemed he could effectively do what he wanted to her."Well?" he raised an eyebrow.She sighed, closed her eyes and pushed. She farted far more loudly then she had hoped, and felt the hot mess come out of her and into her diaper. "Ohh," she said, and she doubled over and squatted as the cramps hit again and she kept messing herself for the audience. She hoped their laughter at least drowned out the sound of her messing, but to her each release sounded like thunder. The smell stung her nostrils, and she almost gagged. There was another advantage of messing the second she got the urge, she realized- there would have been far less of it, and her messes would be far less... messy. She shuddered at the feeling as she finally finished.She opened her eyes and stared at her Daddy, eyes seeking pity. She tried to concentrate on him and ignore the other's around her, most of whom were laughing at her."Good baby," he said, rubbing her head again. He leaned forward and checked the back of her diaper. "You're a very good baby, stinky butt." He patted the back of her diaper, and she cringed at the slimy feeling but was glad to at least be in his good books again.A group of young women came running up to her. One of them held a camera. "Excuse me, can we take a picture with you? We just LOVE the outfit! SO adorable!""No I..." she began to speak, but was cut off by her Daddy's hand on her nose."Silly baby, they weren't asking you." He put the pacifier back in her mouth, this time leaving the strap off. She didn't dare spit it out. "She'd love to have her picture taken, and she promises to give you her prettiest smile."She tried her best to smile for the camera. And for her Daddy, she knew- if he was going to change her diaper after all that, the least she could do was smile. She thought about what he had said earlier. At this point, a doll or teddy bear to call her own would make her feel better, and she probably would beg for it...."Now now sweetie, put Jeremy down," Daddy said.She pouted and squealed behind her pacifier. She cuddled the teddy bear close and shook her head no. Her pigtails twirled, adding emphasis in her mind, making the protest all the more adorable to her Daddy."You know the rules. You don't get to have teddies or dollies for comfort during punishments. You're going into the naughty corner after this, and you need to be able to think about what you did without distraction. You can have him back after. You want to be a good baby, don't you?"She nodded. She did know the rules, and she did want to be a good baby. Good babies avoided punishment and got more toys. Also, she knew it would be easier to think about what she did without Jeremy distracting her. He was just too cuddly to think when he was around.She shook her head. Where had THAT thought come from? She held onto them because it was expected of her in her role, and she wanted to avoid punishment. It did make her feel better to hold one after a spanking, but... she shook her head and ended the train of thought."Then go put him with the others and crawl back here," Daddy said.She waddled over to her toy pile and lay him on top. This was the pile of things she had picked out. She was allowed to have them all out to play during the day, but was only allowed to in her crib at night. Picking those two and putting the rest back into the box at night was one of her chores, and as the first she picked out Jeremy made the cut more often then the others. She always kissed the others before putting them back in- Daddy told her too, as they might feel bad otherwise. Silly, she knew. She kissed Jeremy before putting him down, hoping Daddy would excuse her removing her pacifier for an important reason. She put it back in and suckled it. She would at least have that for comfort during her punishment, and she was glad Daddy was kind enough to let her have it.She crawled back as commanded. Crawling wasn't always necessary, but she would do it when told to. In the end, it was no more embarrassing then anything else she went through, and not worth the punishment if she argued. This time, however, it had the added impact of putting her lower then someone she'd normally be taller then.She glanced up at that person, her babysitter, and the reason she was being punished.Officially, she was being punished for arguing over a change in bed time. When the new baby sitter came in to help Daddy, she told her she'd be going to bed at 7:30 tonight instead of the usually 8:00 so the babysitter would have time for her college homework. It was then condescendingly explained that homework was something people did to learn at home, sort of like her learning to color in lines, and college was where big people went to learn things, sort of the way Daddy had taught her to use her diapers properly. She had thrown what her Daddy called a 'tantrum' while he was still there, so he ordered this punishment.The reality of the matter was deeper then that. The babysitter- named Sarah- had almost been perfectly chosen to upset her. Her Daddy had been giving Elise lessons lately about her status. As an adult baby, her former age and accomplishments didn't matter, and she was now to consider herself as younger then people she used to think she was older then as long as they were adults, and beneath submissive with a higher role. The speech she got explaining what college was when Elise herself had graduated years before, was just the cherry on top of a long list of annoying traits. First of all, as shown by the fact she was still in college, Sarah was several years younger then she was. Making matters worse, she KNEW her. Or, as her Daddy told her, had known her in her old life back when she had baby sat her. She had been taught that her past accomplishments didn't matter, but finding out her former ward was now her babysitter was too much. There was more too- her Daddy wanted her to know it wasn't just age that was lower but her status. Sarah was a submissive and had been one earlier, and a little at that. She was the girl who had been skipping along in the mall. She had watched in awe as the girl lifted up her skirt to proudly show off her pull up and explain that "even a toddler in pull ups is mature enough to be in charge of a little baby in diapers." When Sarah had announced the new bedtime, Elise had had enough, and started shouting.Now, she paid the price. She reached her Daddy's legs and remained on all fours beneath where he was seated."Good girl. Now keep crawling! Up up up!" he patted his knees, and she obediently crawled over his lap, lap down, and braced herself.This time, there was no struggling. Daddy didn't even hold her down as undid her onesie, revealed her soaked diaper and began spanking her. She yelped as the first blow squelched against her damp padding, the itch from the wetness making the pain from the spanks all the worse. H spanked her again and again. She winced, moaned, and cried out as the pain got worse, and by the end, she was in tears, but she was proud that she didn't struggle. It had become embarrassing to constantly fight back only to end up in the same position."Good girl, Daddy's proud of you for not struggling. Now, go to the babysitter.""Come here little one!" Sarah said, patting her legs. She crawled over and climbed over her knees, then lay patiently for the first smacks. Her blows were softer, but more embarrassing. She was used to being spanked by her Daddy, this was something new. Each one drove home the fact that she was not only a submissive who could be punished and taken control of by almost anyone, but a baby whom even Sarah was considered more responsible then. She would have liked to pretend only her Daddy was in charge of her, but the truth was anyone could be, and her Daddy just kept her safe from them all and determined who was right.Despite her weaker arm, the pain still added up, and soon she was bawling over Sarah's lap. She kept spanking her, and the baby kept crying louder and louder.Finally she stopped. The diaper clad girl lay over her lap, sniffling but not moving."Learn your lesson?" Sarah said."Mhmm," she nodded."Good Baby. Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did."She got up and waddled over, rubbing her bottom as she did. When she reached the corner, however, she kept her hands by her side as she had been taught. She heard Daddy and Sarah get up behind her and leave with the door wide open, and not a bone in her body wanted to run out of it or even leave the corner. She knew it would be hopeless, and had no reason to want to try.The punishment was as much about humiliation as it was boredom. The corner was angled to be visible from the hallway, and her onesie still hung open, leaving her wet diaper visible. More importantly, anyone coming by would see her completely unrestrained and willing standing there in a soaking wet diaper and sucking a pacifier. However, there was nothing she could do about it, and she told herself not to worry. She suckled her pacifier for comfort and took her mind elsewhere.It really was her fault, she knew. Daddy had told her the lessons over and over, and she shouldn't have reacted that way. It was wrong to blame the babysitter, she shouldn't have been a Bad Baby. She shuddered at the words.Being a Good Baby really did have advantages. She thought of all the hard work Daddy had put into her, taking care of her, changing her, feeding her. She thought of all the toys she had got as rewards for being good, and all the fun play times she was finding she enjoyed more and more. Despite what she once would have thought, once she got over the embarrassment of admitting it, a lot of what happened was fun. Really, the problem was she was still thinking of the before time, and tricking herself into being embarrassed when she could just be having fun.She thought of her Daddy. She wondered how much of this had planned. The entire thing really had seemed perfectly planned to get her to react, and the resulting punishment really had taught her the lesson. They often did- as he said, she was punished for her own good. Her Daddy must have thought of everything.What was that thing her big girl baby sitter was doing? College? She wondered what that was like, and why a big girl would need to learn about diapers. She giggled. She was happy she'd never have to worry about it. Daddy had told her that since she was a baby, all she had to worry about was playing with toys and filling diapers, and she liked knowing she wouldn't have more stress then that. However, maybe she could help with 'homework', whatever it was, since she was so good at coloring inside lines now....The Baby skipped along gleefully beside her Daddy. She held his hand losely, and was glad not to be on a leash. She was proud of the fact she no longer needed a leash to stay beside Daddy, though sometimes she asked for one if she got scared in crowds. Likewise, she was glad she didn't need the gloves anymore because she wouldn't do naughty things, glad her paci wasn't strapped in because she sucked it freely, and glad she didn't have locking plastic pants because she had learned better then to take off her diaper. Each freedom was a sign she had learned to be a Good Baby in another way, and she was proud of it.Today was another triumph in her mind. Daddy told her they were going into the mall to meet someone because she was 'such a Good Baby now." She didn't know who or what that was, Daddy had told her she didn't need to, she just needed to know it was a good thing. She accepted it. Daddy had always been right before after all, and could tell when she did or did not need to know something.She paused in front of the glass door. She saw her reflection, and smiled. She always liked to see how cute she looked in her outfits. One of her favorite times of day was when she was lying in bed right after waking up and before bedtime, and would see her reflection in the mirror, emphasizing what she was from the first moment and the last moment of her day. She'd role over, stick her bum in the air and examine all the parts of her pajamas. Sometimes she'd try to guess from the reflection of her diaper if she had had an accident in her crib over night. Sometimes she'd be able to see damp or brown spots, but she knew only Daddy could tell her that for certain. Daddy had told her a baby like her couldn't ever know.Today's outfit was extra special. Since today was a special day to celebrate her being a Good Baby, she'd been allowed to pick her own outfit. It was all matching in bright pink. It was her favorite color, since Daddy said she looked cute in it. She had chosen her favorite onesie- one of the cutest with pink frills along arm and leg cuffs and a duck on the chest. Importantly, the diaper cover was narrow, so it left the edges of her diaper clear. She looked down in the mirror and moved the cloth inward slightly. Daddy said it was good luck if her diaper tapes were visible, so she always did her best to make sure they were. She made sure not to touch the tapes though, as bad things happened when she did.She examined the rest of it- her knee high socks were always fun, and the big pink ribbons that tied her hair into pigtails were perfect. Her paci was in her mouth of course, and attached to her chest in case she dropped it. Jeremey accompanied her on this trip (she had begged Daddy for to let her take him and kissed him when he said yes) and since he was going out, he too was dressed up in a small suit and diaper. Diapers for stuffies was another thing she had begged Daddy for. She liked to dress her toys up, and couldn't conceived of dressing anything without a diaper. She wasn't certain how Daddy went without them. He explained he used the potty instead, which she assumed was like a diaper but for grown ups. He said she didn't need to worry about it. However, Jeremy came on trips out sometimes, and she didn't want to risk him having an accident somewhere important. Daddy had agreed and said seeing them all diapered would be a good, constant reminder of what she was.They both entered the mall. People stared at her as usual, and some laughed. She laughed back and waved, she was proud people were noticing how cute she looked.Daddy met with a few other grown ups and shook their hands. She heard him mention the "Baby" and realized they were talking about her, but it sounded like boring grown up talk, so she ignored it. Probably too complicated for her anyway, maybe that college stuff again. Instead, she let her mind wander and looked around the mall.There were people everywhere. It was more crowded then usual. Also, there were more submissives then usual. Some were even on display, standing in cages on stages or tied up in stocks. She wondered what was going on."Bad Baby," she heard the words come out from the conversation. Instantly, all the guilt, all the punishments, and all the anger from the times she had misbehaved came up at once. She could feel the spanks from every time she had been bad. Desperately, she searched her mind for what she had done wrong. Had she walked in wrong? Had she been holding in her messes again? SHe reached for her pacifier, it was still there. She looked at her Daddy pleadingly. He noticed her staring. "Ohh sweetie," he said, cupping her cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you were listening. That wasn't meant for you to hear. You're not a bad baby. You're a Good B. A very Good Baby." He leaned forward and kissed her forhead, and she giggled. Being called a Good Baby and being kissed on the forehead were both pleasures, getting them both at once made her ecstatic. She started humming happily and bouncing back and forth from her heel to her toe.She went back to looking around the room as the grown up talks. She held Daddy's hand tightly and cuddled Jeremy in her other arm, making sure they were both always there.She felt something come in her diaper and heard a loud noise. Paying it no mind, she continued watching people, humming, and rocking on her heels. Whatever it was, Daddy would take care of it. She didn't need to pay it any mind.She noticed the grown ups Daddy had been talking to were staring at her. They didn't seem to be talking anymore, and one was had his mouth hanging wide. She wondered why. Was he trying to catch flies? She felt something behind her and looked to see Daddy opening her onesie. He patted her diaper, and she felt a rotting smell come up."Whew stinky butt! That's quite a mess!" Daddy said teasingly and ruffled her hair. She giggled.Daddy normally called her stinky butt instead of Good or Bad Baby after she did the same thing. However, she couldn't be sure until Daddy said so.SHe pointed at her pacifier, indicating she wanted to speak. Daddy nodded, and she let it drop. It bounced on the cord attaching it to her onesie- Daddy had been smart to encourage her to include that part."What is it, my Good little Baby?" Daddy asked."Daddy, I think I have a poopy diaper."He laughed out loud, and she noticed the others did too. What did THAT mean?"And why is that sweetie?" he asked, smiling."Well, first I noticed something in my diaper but I couldn't tell what, and there was a noise. Then they were staring at me, and people do that a lot when I'm messy. Then I noticed a funny smell and Daddy called me a stinky butt, so I think the smell was coming from me.""Oh? And what else might have made a loud sound and a stinky smell?""Ummmm" she thought. She remembered Jeremy, who was also diapered. She held him up, back bent toward Daddy, so he could check Jeremy too. "Maybe he did?" Daddy tapped the bear's diaper, checking it. "No, its not him silly. You were right the first time. Very good sweetie! You did make a messy. Such a smart baby! Good Baby!" he said, and she filled with glee at her accomplishment. "Now, Daddy needs to talk with these judges, but you've done very well, ok poopy butt? You're a Good Baby. I'll change your pampers later." She nodded, and he put the pacifier back in her mouth.She went back to humming as Daddy talked with them. She didn't know why, but she thought she had done well. They seemed very happy about something. She looked around and wondered where she might get changed. There were rooms in a corner with changing tables, but sometimes Daddy just did her on the ground or on a bench. She didn't mind. She used to complain, and sometimes it was fun to have an audience. Daddy had told her 'babies don't have modesty,' but she wasn't sure what that meant anymore anyway.She began to get bored, and tired of standing. Maybe she should have asked for a stroller. She sat down on the ground. She felt something squish underneath her, and remembered she had messed herself. It was fine though- Daddy had said Good Babies didn't try to hide their messes or hide from them, the just kept going, sat in it, and played, and that was what she was going to do. She held Jeremey out in front of her. First she checked his diaper. Since she was messy, she figured he might be too. Daddy had, but that was a while ago. She thought she might ask him to check again later, since only grown ups could really tell. Satisfied she was sure he was clean to the best of her ability, she began to make him dance in front of her to the sound of her humming.She felt a hand on her head and looked up. Daddy was looking down at her smiling, and she smiled back. She hugged his leg and went back to playing.A while later she felt herself being picked up into the air. She looked up and saw Daddy carrying her, and she cuddled into his chest. He reached a a bench and stood her on the ground, then sat down.Without thinking, she bounced up and landed on his lap with a loud squish. The smell she had noticed earlier suddenly got worse.Daddy laughed. "Silly baby. You're going to make a big mess for Daddy to clean if you keep bouncing like that.""Is this another lesson?" she thought. She began squirming and bouncing as best she could to make a bigger mess for Daddy, since he said he liked it when she made big presents for him. He seemed understand what she was doing, laughed, and began bouncing her on his knee. Each squish would once have made her stomach turn, but now she was happy she was doing something for Daddy. She felt her bottom begin to itch, but paid it no mind. If it was a problem, Daddy would tell her.She pointed at her pacifier, and he took it out for her. "Daddy, who were those men?" she asked."Oh, don't worry. Its all grown up stuff. They wanted to see how much of a Good Baby you were, and you were even better then they expected."Here eyes went wide. "Really?" she asked gleefully. "Uh huh. That's right poopy butt. You are a VERY Good Baby."She laughed out loud. "Whats that mean Daddy? Do we get something?""Yes sweetie. We get an award for training babies, and you get to live with me as long as you want.""As long as I want, Daddy?""Yes. Do you want to be a Good Baby? How long do you want to be Daddy's little diaper girl for?"She thought. She remembered her past life, and all the things she had gone through. She remembered all the work she had done before, all the stress and and trials. She remembered the punishments, the toys, the changes and the spankings. She didn't even need to question it. "Forever, Daddy."He kissed her. "Good Baby."She laughed, and couldn't imagine anywhere she'd rather be.

Holekine, After trying to read your post, I have no clue what you are communicating. Your subject line is "Why so much punishment in ABDL? My two thoughts as an author frequently combining AB play and spanking are: Punishment becomes part of ABDL stories because many authors enjoy and are good at writing such stories. People who do not want to read about punishment in ABDL stories are most welcome to not read those stories.