WSwriter

Thanks for the feedback. Yes, the story is a little rushed - it came out in just one quick writing session and I decided to present it for feedback. I had potential storielines that would preclude it from being posted here but I was also considering "fleshing out" the regression a bit more. And then I realized I was telling the story of a little boy traumatised about being forced out of diapers and TOTALLY ready for a loving aunt to let him go back. Short and sweet (I hope).

“Your mother says you sometimes wet your bed at night if you are somewhere you don’t know.” Eric, 14 years old but not fully in puberty yet, was appalled and blushed all the way down his neck. It is true it had happened a few times, but that was years ago. Why his mother would have told his aunt – his father’s sister – about it, Eric couldn’t fathom. “Poor you – that must have been awful, being in a strange place and not knowing where the toilets were or who to ask,” his aunt continued, “and knowing your mother, she probably went on and on and on about it?” The latter was accompanied by a conspiratorial wink, and Eric suddenly felt much better about the strange conversation and nodded. It got stranger still. “She was always stupid about such things. I remember we were there when she forced you out of night-diapers. You were clearly so not ready and loved your nite-diddies as you called them. Why she couldn’t let you have them until you didn’t want or need them anymore was a mystery to us.” Eric nodded. Not that he could remember the episode, but he certainly didn’t disagree with his aunt’s assessment of his mother! Perhaps this summer at his uncle and aunt’s place out in the country was not going to be nearly as bad as he had feared. He had been sent there so that his parents could go on holiday alone. Eric didn’t know the actual reason, but he had certainly noticed the yelling and freezing atmosphere at home for the last half year or more. The true reason was actually a last-ditch attempt at saving the marriage after Eric’s mother had fucked around with a colleague in January while his father was on a business trip. So here he was – nearly 2000 miles away in rural Wyoming. To his chagrin, he’d flow as an unaccompanied minor – he felt that he was plenty old enough to handle it himself, but truth be told the stewards and stewardesses had been sweet to him, and he had to admit that having someone help him changing flights in Chicago and Denver was nice. And his aunt and girl cousin – a sweet little girl of 3 called Cathy – had been there to collect him in Sheridan County Airport. His uncle and aunt had a place almost on the Montana border, so it was a long drive back and his young cousin had fallen asleep almost immediately. On arrival at the homestead – it looked like a very nice place on first impressions – he helped his aunt carrying a lot of shopping in: “We don’t come to town very often; we have most things delivered, but I got Cathy some new clothes today now that we were in there to pick you up anyway,” his aunt explained. Eric nodded. Cathy was still asleep. Inside the house, Eric was shown his room. “The bathroom is across the corridor, second door” his aunt said, and Eric rushed to use the facilities. He largely made it, but his bladder had been aching for the last hour of the drive, and his briefs and jeans got a little moist. Perhaps that was why his aunt had mentioned the bed-wetting? At her urging, he changed into “something fresh”, and the moisture was not mentioned – at least not directly. “Well, I can promise you a couple of things,” his aunt said – ruffling his curly hair – “I’ve put a rubber backed protector on the mattress so it will come to no harm – and no-one will yell at you for wetting the bed.” Again, Eric could only nod. He thought there should have been an “if” somewhere; it sounded like auntie more or less expected him to have accidents at night. __________ Just then Cathy woke up and the next little while was spent with auntie changing her soaked nappy, nursing her – something Eric couldn’t keep his eyes from, and the setting her down to play while the shopping was put away. Next they cooked dinner – with Eric helping as much as he could – while they talked about all sorts of things. “Your uncle won’t be back until late September”, his aunt explained “– he is deployed in the Middle East somewhere, but he does get to Skype home once or twice a week”. Eric nodded. “So I’m happy to have a strong young man around to help,” his aunt added and again ruffled Eric’s hair. Eric nodded – he liked his uncle and missed him, but understood he was serving to keep everyone safe. Eric’s uncle – his father’s oldest and best friend, had opted to serve his country while Eric’s much more affluent father has gone straight to college and then into the family business. Against much opposition from his grandparents, his father’s little sister had declared her intention to marry her older brother’s friend and to their horror also enlisted on completion of her psychology degree. When they had both received commissions as officers, the grandparents had relented and the two married. They were in different branches of the armed forces, and neither of them were at liberty to discuss exactly what they were doing, much less where, but the marriage was a happy one and 4 years ago they had decided it was time to start a family, so Eric’s aunt requested and received an honorable discharge when her pregnancy with Cathy had been confirmed. Meanwhile Eric’s father had much earlier married a much more suitable spouse (at least according to the grandparents) and produced an heir. “Suitable” meant the same affluent circles; Eric’s mother was a bit of a wild girl, and the marriage was only, but hastily, arranged because she was pregnant. She did marry the man that was Eric’s biological father, but there were honestly several other potential candidates for that role and the bit about forsaking all others had never loomed large in her lifestyle. Eric knew none of that. But he was aware that his aunt didn’t like his mother much, and truth be told neither did he. __________ With the very long nap in the car, Cathy was not ready to be put to bed until an hour later than normal – at which point Eric was visibly flagging after the long journey; the two hours’ time difference certainly played a role too. In consequence he was almost asleep on the sofa when his aunt returned from having nursed Cathy to sleep. “Eric, sweetheart, time for bed,”, she cooed while gently prodding him awake. A “huh” indicated that he was mostly awake, but taking initiative was beyond him. Without protest, Eric let himself be led back towards his room, but they stopped on the way in the bathroom to clean his teeth which he docilely let his aunt do for him. The toilet was not used; rather, he was urged to drink several large glasses of water which he did without question. When they got to the bedroom, his aunt proceeded to undress the almost comatose boy, then had him stretch out on the bed while she rubbed perfumed baby cream all over his crotch and sprinkled him liberally whit pleasantly scented baby powder. “I was thinking,” his aunt said in a quiet loving tone of voice, “that when I mentioned that your mattress is protected and I won’t scold you when the rest gets wet, I meant it, but I was thinking that perhaps you should be in diapers at night – at least for the first couple of nights until we see how it goes, huh?” Eric didn’t respond, but the notion intrigued him. “There is no-one here but you and me and Cathy – no-one will ever know,” she urged. “You want to feel safe. You want to be able to pee without having to find a bathroom.” “You want to have the thick warm diaper on,” she intoned while putting said diaper on him. Eric never stopped to wonder why she had diapers in his size – he had an overwhelming feeling of contentment when it was attached firmly. She tucked him in, kissed his forehead and switched off the light. In moments he was asleep. __________ Next morning Eric awoke from his aunt opening the curtains to a beautiful sunny summer’s day. “Wake up sweetheart – time for breakfast”. Eric stretched and felt the heavy diaper around his groin. The bed was dry – just – but he would obviously have been soaked if he hadn’t been diapered. His aunt echoed that thought: “Just as well you were diapered; you clearly needed that.” Blushingly Eric agreed. “You can have your night diapers back on while you are here with us,” his aunt added. “No-one will know.” There was a small wash basin on his bedside table with steaming hot water. Quickly and methodically his aunt removed the diaper, then washed and dried him and handed him a pair of underwear and his tracksuit pants. Putting ordinary clothes on, Eric felt a fleeting regret of the loss of sense of security. The morning was spent lounging around, playing with Cathy and simply just being. He was offered drinks almost constantly and urged to “keep in fluids” in the warm summer weather. Around midday, Cathy was nursed to sleep – a process Eric found fascinating – and his aunt suggested that Eric relax in front of the television. Agreeing, Eric tried to follow the program but started nodding off. He woke with a start – he’d been dreaming about diapers, and he realized he had started to pee. The underwear and thick tracksuit material had absorbed the urine – just – but just a few moments more, and the sofa would have been flooded. “Auntie,” he cried out and moments later she appeared from her office. “I, I, wet my pants,” Eric cried. “Poor darling,” his aunt cooed. “Did you fall asleep without a diddy on?” Eric nodded, still sobbing. “Don’t worry sweetheart; auntie will take care of you”. She led him to his bathroom, undressed him, lifted him up into the tub and rinsed him off with the shower head. Meanwhile she was constantly cooing sweet little nothings to him, hugging him, and kissing him. She was a trained military psychologist and an expert in hypnotherapy – and Eric in his current state was a perfect candidate for hypnotic suggestions. “You should be in diapers all the time,” she said. “You need to be diapered – you don’t want to be big; you need to be allowed to be a little boy again.” She repeated that again and again. She lifted him up, dried him and proceeded with cream, powder, and a diaper. At no stage did Eric question, much less protest. He was led back to the living room and plunked on the sofa with his aunt sitting down next to him. Nor did he ever stop wondering what was going on when she opened her shirt, unlatched her nursing bra and moved Eric mouth to her large, distended nipple. Eric had never been breast fed, but some things come naturally and in moments he was gulping down large mouthfuls of milk first form one breast and then the other. “You are auntie’s baby boy now,” she cooed in her ear. “And you have a big thirsty diaper on,” she added “- so you can pee, pee, pee.” __________ He did. At all times, just letting auntie know when he needed a change. By the time his parents were back from their – unsuccessful – holiday, he was completely incontinent. His mother was angling for custody to get as much money as possible through support payments, but quickly decided that a 14-year-old in diapers was too much work and signed parental rights over to his father – who in turn arranged for his sister and brother-in-law to care for the boy. Eric was homeschooled and did very well. Puberty never happened – the “vitamins” his aunt gave him saw to that.

I Don't Want to Be Big Cathy is an eight-year-old English girl. Cathy's parents are both doctors and separated. She is small for her age but feels pressured to be big and sensible. She doesn't want to be. When her mother goes to help in a disaster zone and her father is not available, she is sent off to Australia to stay with her Granddad. She has recently started wetting the bed at night and is mortified when that happens at Granddad's house. But Granddad's reaction is not at all what Cathy feared or expected. Chapter 1 "Did you see the news about the outbreak in the earthquake zone Dad?" Hank's daughter was on the phone. It was a fairly rare occurrence and when she did call, she never wasted time on salutations or small talk, often starting out like they where in the middle of a conversation. "Nope – none of our TV stations picked up on that one", Hank replied. Nor had he expected them to – it was Ashes Test Cricket week after all, so something as insignificant as a cholera epidemic added to the already abject misery of some villagers in northern Pakistan was unlikely to get a mention. "But I did get a news-flash from MSF this morning on the e-mail," he added. "I've sent off a sum." Hank was wealthy and could afford to be generous. "Oh goodie," his daughter said. "You'll be paying my salary!" Hank was not surprised. Camilla had studied medicine not to become rich but to make a difference and this was not the first time she had been posted by Médecins Sans Frontières amongst the neediest of the world. She was an expert on cholera management and her early involvement was unsurprising. "Will Cathy be staying with Kamal then?" Hank asked. His daughter and her husband had been separated for several years, but they had a very civil relationship for the sake of their daughter. Cathy was born with serious health problems, and it was probably only because both her parents were doctors, and very good doctors at that, that she was now completely healthy – if still very small for her 8 years. But the process had taken its toll on her parents' relationship, and they had separated, but worked in the same city (at different hospitals) and could thus share in their daughter's upbringing. "No, that's the problem Dad," Camilla said. "Kamal's not available. He went home to visit his folks for New Year, and I can't reach him. I tried to call his sister to get in touch, but I obviously got nowhere with her." Hank sighed. Kamal's sister had always hated Camilla with a vengeance. She never wanted her brother to marry a (nominally) Christian, thoroughly western, highly educated, and liberated woman. She was close to the cousin who believed she should have had 'first dips' at Kamal and had actively been sabotaging the fragile marriage, urging her brother do divorce Camilla and relocate to Pakistan. Hank knew his son-in-law well enough to know that was not going to happen. Nor would Camilla take up with anyone else, but he despaired at the two of them not patching up their differences. It was mainly pride that kept them apart; they could be so stubborn. "And?" Hank teased. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't letting his daughter off the hook that easily. "Dad, could she stay with you?" Camilla was almost pleading. "Bringing her with me is not an option." "Of course not," Hank agreed – shuddering at the thought of bringing a small child to a cholera-ravaged earthquake zone. "She is more than welcome, you know that. How do we work this?" With Camilla in the UK and Hank in Australia, the logistics were kind of daunting. "Eh, we're booked on a flight to Sydney via Singapore tonight," Camilla admitted. "If you can pick her up in Kingsford Smith then I can get a flight back to Karachi 4 hours later." "Short and sweet," Hank said with a laugh. He should have known his daughter well enough to know it was all planned. "I'd better book domestic flights right away. How is Cathy, by the way? Anything I need to know about?" "Not really," Camilla said evasively. "We've been having a bit of toilet troubles recently, but I guess it is all about attention seeking." "'Toilet troubles'?" Hank repeated. "Yes, well, you know, being wet at night again," Camilla said, sounding exasperated. "Not a problem," Hank said. "I know a thing or two about wet beds." Camilla didn't comment. She had conveniently repressed the fact that she was in night diapers, or nappies as they are called in Australia, until after her tenth birthday. And Hank didn't press the point. He had solemnly promised his daughter many years ago never to tell anyone and he was a man to keep his promises. Chapter 2 "Granddad!" The small girl's thrill cry of delight made everyone in the busy airport turn to look as she launched herself at the tall grey-haired man just outside the restricted arrival zone. She was very pretty with dark brown hair and eyes. She looked to be about 5 years old, and the man easily caught her and swirled her around. "Hi Pumpkin," he gushed. "It's so good to see you." "I am going to stay with you while Mummy helps the sick people," she said seriously, clinging to Hank like lichen. "That's right sweetheart," Camilla said. She had now caught up with her daughter, pushing a trolley with a large amount of luggage. "Granddad will look after you." She embraced her father too. "Thanks for helping out." Hank smiled. A widower and semi-retiree, he certainly had the time. He saw his only child and grandchild much too rarely, so he was happy with this opportunity. He occasionally did consultancy work, but not much in the summer – and most of it he could do from home. "Any time, for however long," he said with conviction. "When will you come and get me again?" Cathy asked her mother. "I don't really know," Camilla admitted. "It depends on how long it takes to stop the disease." "Will I have to go to school while I'm here?" Cathy demanded. "Hardly," her grandfather laughed. "It's summer holidays here you know. School's out for many weeks." "Silly, it is Christmas Holidays," Cathy laughed. "Sure is," Hank replied. "But down here we have Christmas in the summer." They had a meal together in the airport before Camilla had to check in again for her flight back to Karachi and Hank and Cathy transferred to the domestic terminal. Hank noticed that Camilla constantly urged Cathy to go to the bathroom – something that obviously pained the girl. Even as they hugged their farewell hugs, Cathy was urged to remember a toilet stop before the flight. "She does go on a bit about it, doesn't she?" Hank said conspiratorially when they walked towards the transfer train. Cathy looked up at him shyly. "I guess..." she faltered. She'd had a small accident on the interminable flight from London to Singapore so perhaps her mother had a point. The flight to Canberra was on a small turboprop with no direct access from the terminal, so as they were boarding they went outside for the first time and the heat of the Australian high summer hit Cathy like a brick wall. "It is summer," she exclaimed. "I thought you were only teasing." Hank laughed and explained all about different seasons on different hemispheres. During the flight he explained a lot about Australia, including its unique and not always harmless wildlife. The noise in the small aircraft, and the excitement of it all, kept Cathy awake, but once they had landed in Canberra, found Cathy's bags and Hank's car, Cathy was visibly flagging. It was only mid-morning, but her internal clock said late evening and before they were even out of the parking house, she was fast asleep. She woke up long enough when they arrived at Hank's house on the other side of the Australian Capital to take in the strange sounds and smells outdoors and to appreciate the pleasant room that was to be hers for the next while. "It used to be your mum's room when she was a girl," Hank said. "Uh huh," Cathy said. Hank stripped her down to her underwear, tucked her in and tip-toed out of the room. Cathy's last conscious thought was how nice the bedding was – very pink and very girlish and pleasant smelling. There was a crinkling noise when she moved, but before she could work out why she was out of it. Hank returned a little later and unpacked Cathy's suitcases, transferring her clothes to cupboards and drawers. It was all so small – and much too warm for the season. 'Miss perfect organizer must have forgotten about Australian summers', Hank chuckled to himself. He would have to do something about Cathy's wardrobe quickly. Chapter 3 Hank didn't want Cathy to swap day and night, so he intended to let her sleep until mid-afternoon, tire her out with some activity and hope she could then sleep a normal night's sleep. Kids usually get over jet-lag easier than adults anyway, so he wasn't concerned. He was working on a consultancy report in his office and kept an eye on the clock, deciding it was nearly time to wake up Cathy when a pitiful cry was heard from her room. Hank rushed in and found her sitting up in bed crying inconsolably. "What's the matter Pumpkin?" he asked. "Did you have a bad dream?" "No," she wailed. "I, I, I wet the bed." Indeed she had. The bedding was drenched. "Is that all?" he asked. "I thought something had happened to you!" He picked her up, carried her to the bathroom and started running a bath. "Bubbles?" he asked and held a bottle of strawberry scented bubble soap to her nose." "Yes please," she whispered shyly. He added the soap, frothed it up to a generous layer of foam, stripped off her wet underwear and plunked her in the bath. She sighed with pleasure. "Nice, isn't it?" he said with a smile. "Can you promise me not to fall a sleep" he asked. She nodded and he left her alone for a while. When he returned a little later, he brought a large fluffy towel and the lightest of her clothes. He lifted her out of the bath, rubbed her dry and got her dressed. The accident wasn't mentioned. Cathy was confused. If it had happened at home her mother would have been going on and on about it, but Granddad didn't seem to care. "Want to go and see some of the local wildlife?" he asked. Cathy nodded shyly, took the proffered hand gratefully and walked out in the scorching hot afternoon. They walked to a local nature area that separated Hank's suburb from the next. There was a small stream running through it and a group of small kangaroos were grazing the lush grass. Flocks of colourful Eastern Rosellas were foraging the shrubs and trees. Grandfather and granddaughter sat down companionably on a log, drank water Hank had brought and studied the kangaroos – who on deciding that Hank and Cathy were harmless had returned to eating. Growing up in a large UK city, this was the closest Cathy had ever been to wild animals – or indeed any animals apart from visits to the zoo. The heady scents of flowering trees and the loud noise of insects added to the mystique. Cathy was enchanted, but she could also feel her bladder pressing and reluctantly asked Hank if they could go home again. She just made it to the bathroom. Hank had found some of Camilla's old toys and urged Cathy to play with them while he cooked an early dinner. Cathy readily agreed – she was especially attracted to a near life-size baby doll. It could be "fed" water from bottles and would "wet" itself shortly after. The original toy nappies of poor quality were long gone, but Hank's wife had been a neo-natal nurse and had gotten hold of some proper miniature nappies that fitted just fine. Cathy was endlessly fascinated – and, like all children through the ages, was thrilled to play with toys that had been her mother's. They ate dinner, Hank read an exciting Australian children's book for Cathy and before long she was tired enough to go to bed. When Hank removed the bedspread Cathy was momentarily confused that the bedding was the same as earlier in the day. Crisp, clean, and sweet smelling; it was like the wetting episode hadn't happened at all. She let herself be tucked in, once more briefly wondered about the crinkling sound – and fell into deep sleep. Chapter 4 To her despair, Cathy was drenched again when she woke up next morning. "Granddad," she cried out and within moments Hank was there. He had in fact checked up on her a few minutes before and was forewarned, so he simply lifted her up, carried her out into the bathroom, stripped her out of her wet underclothes and plunked her into the waiting strawberry-scented foam bath. He kissed her on the top of her head and said "Breakfast when you've finished your bath. I was thinking pancakes today." Cathy was confused. Not one harsh word. No scolding. Nothing. And her favourite food for breakfast. When Hank returned a little later with a towel and some clothes, he picked her out of the bath, dried her and dressed her. "We got to get you some summer clothes today," he said. "It seems you mother forgot about the season thing. Silly mummy." Cathy giggled and gleefully agreed. They shopped in an air-conditioned shopping complex some distance from Hank's home, requiring a fair bit of driving. Hank decided to let Cathy choose what she wanted. He was concerned that her small size would mean she wouldn't be able to get the 'tween' stuff he expected her to choose. He needn't have worried; on the contrary: Cathy went for the little-girl stuff in bright colours (lots of pink) and wanted skirts and dresses only, no trousers, not even shorts. For accessories she again chose the brightly coloured stuff and wanted a lot of hair elastics to put her hair into pigtails. She got sandals and snickers and after a light lunch at the centre they drove home. She fell asleep in the car. Hank could see her nodding, her head getting heavier and heavier. Her right hand drifted up to her mouth, she sucked on the thumb and fell asleep. At an intersection, the stop/start eco engine cut out and Hank could just hear the hissing sound from Cathy's crotch as the hated jeans darkened. "Oh well, never mind," Hank thought. The upholstery of the child seat is easy to wash. They have to be. Cathy was mortified when she woke up – and once more confused by her grandfather's complete lack of concern or anger. "You get to wear one of the new skirts sooner," he said cheerfully as he led her to the bathroom and quickly and effectively rinsed her with the shower head. He decided that the car seat had gotten so little on it that it could be wiped with a very wet cloth and left to dry in the sun. Next he retrieved this morning's bed linen that had been washed and left to dry on the line outside. He folded it up neatly and put it in a drawer with several sets of the same pattern, resolving the mystery that had so intrigued Cathy. She also saw the rubber-backed mattress protectors, answering the question about the crinkling sound. But one thing she didn't understand: Granddad was so calm about it all! She played with the baby-doll all afternoon, taking it for a walk around the block in a lovely play-pram. They had dinner, read stories, and Cathy was off to bed. Chapter 5 Cathy was soaked once more the next morning. "Granddad," she called – this time with less despair in her voice. "I wet the bed again." "Did you sweetheart?" Hank said, appearing in the door. "Poor you. We'd better get you out of the wet things and have you washed." Cathy could contain it no more. "Granddad, how come you're not angry with me?" she asked. "Angry?" Hank repeated as if not understanding. "Angry about what?" "Angry with me, you know, wetting the bed," Cathy said. "Mummy always gets so upset with me," she added barely over a whisper. "But why should I get angry with you?" Hank asked. "It's not like it is your fault, is it?" "Mummy says big girls don't wet their beds – or their pants, like I did yesterday. Only little girls do that..." Cathy trailed off, tears trickling down her cheeks. "That's not true, is it?" Hank countered. "Huh?" Cathy asked, completely confused. "Little girls don't wet their beds and pants, do they?" Hank asked. "I don't understand," Cathy started. "Only big girls do that. Little girls wet something else, don't they?" Hank asked gently, holding up the baby-doll which was 'dressed' in only a nappy. "Oh, I suppose," Cathy said while the implications of that sunk in. "Besides, I don't want to be big..." she muttered in so low a voice that Hank could only just hear her. He picked her up, took her to the bathroom, undressed her and plunked her in the waiting bath. "I'll go get breakfast ready," he said and left Cathy to enjoy the strawberry scented foam. Hank had to work that morning, so Cathy played – mostly with the baby doll – but after lunch they walked over to a playground in the next suburb. It was a very nice playground with lots of activities and lots of other children. Cathy quickly got over her shyness and started playing with a group of young children while Hank sat on a bench in the shade and talked to the other adults, mainly mothers. Cathy was so absorbed with the playing that she missed the signals from her bladder. As she got up from squatting next to some of her new friends, she felt a spurt of pee escaping, but it was absorbed by her little cotton panties. She squeezed her pelvis hard and stopped the flow, but she knew she would need a toilet – and fast. She ran over to Hank. "Granddad, I need to pee." Hank could see from her little dance that she was serious and rushed her over to the service block at the far end of the playground. To his despair they were met by large "Closed for repairs" signs on all three toilet doors – women, men and disabled alike. "It seems we're out of luck Pumpkin. Do you think you can hold on until we get back?" Hank asked. "No," Cathy said. Tears were forming at the corner of both eyes. "Tell you what," Hank said. "Go sit on the grass over there and make sure you are not sitting on you skirt. Then just let go. The grass won't mind and, in that way, only your panties get wet." Cathy looked startled but then nodded and did as her grandfather had suggested. She sat down on the grass at the edge near the flowerbed carefully spreading out the skirt. It felt strange and for a while she couldn't will her bursting bladder to let go. Then she put her right thumb in her mouth, relaxed and moments later the flow started. When she had finished, she got up, looked around furtively to see that no one had noticed anything, and walked over to Hank. "Let's go home," Hank said and offered his hand. Cathy grabbed it and they walked off. She looked very small, and her gait was a little strange from the wet panties, but her skirt was quite dry. She was deep in thoughts. "I guess I am a big girl after all," Cathy suddenly said with a giggle when they were almost home. "What do you mean?" Hank asked slightly confused. "I wet my pants just like big girls do," Cathy said with another giggle that turned into a laugh. Hank laughed too. "Yup, so you did." He cleaned her up with the shower head, once more eliciting loud giggles. "It tickles!" she squealed, but she didn't want him to stop. Chapter 6 While dinner cooked in the oven and Cathy watched some children's TV, Hank slipped out to the local shops for some quick purchases. When it was time to put Cathy to bed after dinner and reading, Hank picked her up, looked her in the eyes and asked "OK, little girl or big girl?" Cathy was a first confused, but then she got it. She looked into her grandfather's mild grey eyes, seeing nothing but love and affection. "Little girl, please," she whispered. "OK", Hank said. "Let's clean your teeth and then come with me to your bedroom." Wearing only a tee-shirt, Cathy was placed on a towel on the bed and Hank proceeded to rub cream into her nappy area, then sprinkled her liberally with baby powder before putting a Pampers size 6 years on her. He then tucked her in. "Sleep tight Pumpkin," he said. "This time you will wake up dry." Falling asleep was not easy though – the forgotten sensation of being in nappies took some time to get used to. There was an additional crinkle when she moved around, but first and last she felt warm, snug, and safe. Not being in a wet bed meant the Cathy slept much longer. Hank had expected that and didn't wake her up before nine. "Good morning, Pumpkin," he said. "Slept well?" "Yes Granddad," Cathy said happily, stretching out – only now feeling the heavy nappy around her waist. "Eh, my nappy is very, 'eh, wet..." she trailed off. "Sure," Hank said. "That's what it's there for. Your bath is ready." He picked her up, carried her to the bathroom, stripped her of her tee-shirt and removed the well used nappy before plunking her in the bath. So went the following week. The nappies solved Cathy's night-time problems and her day time was full of fun and adult attention. Hank and Cathy played, read stories, visited the sites of the Capital, and had a great time. When Hank had to do some work, Cathy was very good at entertaining herself. On one occasion Hank had to call on a client, but she was home too having school aged kids as well. Her just teenaged twin daughters made much of Cathy – offering to baby-sit 'any time'. Mid-week late one night Camilla rang on a very bad satellite phone connection. She sounded despondent. "If Hell exists on Earth, it is here," she sighed. Hank who knew his daughter's usually unbreakable resilience was concerned. He sent another large sum to MSF – it was all he could do. Except of course assuring his daughter that Cathy was doing very well. "Any problems?" Camilla asked just before the call broke up. "None," Hank assured. "None whatsoever. And I've updated her wardrobe for the climate..." "Ups, yeah, I guess the suitcase was more geared for the winter holiday in Brittany we were planning on," Camilla said sounding fairly sheep-faced through the static. "Not to worry," her father assured her. "We're doing great." He didn't know if she had heard him though. The line was now dead. On Friday Cathy asked if they could go to 'the great playground' once more. Hank readily agreed, but remembering last week's episode and being fairly certain that no further work would have been done on the toilet facilities, he asked Cathy if perhaps she would like to wear a nappy – 'just in case'. After a bit of thought Cathy agreed. It felt strange to have a nappy on during daytime and Cathy was adamant she wouldn't need it, having gone to the toilet just before they went out. But once at the playground she forgot all about it. Several of her new friends from the week before were there and they quickly established a good game. On occasion they would 'check base' with their respective adults for a hug, a snack, or a drink of water, but otherwise they looked after themselves. "Your... ?." A woman started after Cathy had darted back to the sandpit. "Granddaughter", Hank offered. "Your granddaughter is a real cutie," the woman resumed. "And her language is really advanced for her age." Hank smiled. In her pink skirt, pink t-shirt, pink sandals and pigtails held by pink elastics with large pink plastic hearts Cathy didn't look a day over five. He simply nodded. "But she is still in nappies?" the woman asked. "Cathy has the occasional day-time accidents," Hank conceded. "And with the toilets here out of order, we took the precaution." "Wise," the woman agreed. "I wish I could get my Jimmy to be as sensible. He is also five and I have all kinds of problems when we are out for a long time, on road trips and so on. He absolutely refuses to wear a nappy. I can't count the number of times we've ended up with wet pants. I tried trainer pants, but he won't have a bar of those either." "Oh, we have no problems in that respect," Hank said. "Cathy would rather have a nappy on than wet clothes." At exactly that moment Cathy, hitherto completely absorbed in the game, suddenly realized that her bladder was full beyond capacity. Almost involuntarily she put her right thumb in her mouth and released the contents of her bladder into the nappy. The pee was absorbed quickly, leaving a warm feeling. Jimmy, sitting next to her didn't notice what happened to Cathy. But moments later, to his chagrin, he released a torrent of pee himself, drenching his underwear, shorts, socks, and sandals. "Mummy," he wailed and ran over to the bench. Cathy followed him. "See what I mean?" the woman said in a hopeless tone. "Better get you home buster," she said to her son. "Why couldn't you be a smart as your friend?" "I couldn't help it Mummy," Jimmy sobbed. "Neither could Cathy, but she was smart enough to be prepared," Jimmy's mother said, eyeing Cathy's visibly sagging nappy. "Prepared?" Jimmy sniffled. "Yes – she's wearing a nappy because she knows there is no toilet here," the woman said. "Really?" Jimmy sniffled. "Really," Hank confirmed. Cathy blushed slightly, but she didn't feel nearly as embarrassed as she thought she would have. As the sobbing and dripping Jimmy was let home by his mother, Hank turned to Cathy. "Sorry about that Pumpkin. Jimmy's mother spotted your nappy herself. I didn't know she was going to tell Jimmy." "That's OK Granddad," Cathy said. "It was a good idea to wear it." "You mean it is wet?" Hank said only now discovering the sag. "Oh, yes, I can see that it is." "Uh huh," Cathy said. "Well, I have brought another," Hank said, "but there is really nowhere I can change you." "That's OK Granddad," Cathy said again. "With Jimmy gone I think I'd rather go home anyway. I'm kind of tired." They walked home in silence. When they got to the house, Hank took Cathy to the bathroom and removed the saggy nappy. He washed and dried her. Holding a pair of panties in his hand he suddenly remembered Cathy's comment. "You said you were tired. Do you want a nap?" "Uh huh," Cathy nodded, looking down. "Big girl or little girl nap?" Hank asked. Cathy looked up at her grandfather. He was offering something she hadn't dare ask for, but really wanted. "Little girl", she whispered. Hank undressed her, but on a fresh nappy and carried her to her bedroom. In the mid day heat, she didn't need any clothes and he just covered her with a sheet. "Sleep well Pumpkin," Hank said, kissing her forehead. "Granddad will be in his office working." "OK," Cathy said and rolled over on her side. The snug feeling of the nappy made her feel safe. Safe and loved. She put her thumb in her mouth and fell asleep. She woke up two hours later. Her bladder was bursting again. She once more put her thumb in her mouth and let go. She could hear the hissing sound of her pee streaming into the nappy and feel it getting warm and tight, but she didn't feel wet. She felt wonderful. 'I don't want to be big, ' she thought. Chapter 7 When Hank picked up Cathy after her little afternoon sleep the very wet and obviously still warm nappy was not mentioned. He had brought a warm washer and a towel, so he washed and dried her, then dressed her in panties and a summer dress. "Run a long and play," he said, "Granddad needs to work a few more hours." "OK," Cathy replied. "But don't forget we're watching that show on TV tonight." 'That show' was some inane awards show that had been heavily promoted for weeks now. Hank wasn't sure that Camilla would have let Cathy watch it back home, but then he was sure she wouldn't let her have nappies either. Besides, it was likely to be harmless. He simply nodded. After dinner, Hank said "OK; we can watch the show together, but you need to get ready for bed first in case you get sleepy." "Not fair," Cathy pouted. "You promised we could have snacks." "I did, and I keep my promises, but it would be easier to pop you in bed if all I have to do is brush your teeth. Capito?" Hank said in his best Godfather imitation. The reference was lost on Cathy, but she happily found her nightdress – and a nappy and the cream and powder and moments later Hank put a nappy on his granddaughter – like it was the most natural thing in the world. Snuggled up closely on the sofa, Hank and Cathy watched the show and pigged out on an orgy of snacks and drinks (beer for Hank, soda for Cathy). They enjoyed themselves immensely. To Hank's relief, the show's two hosts – a pair of well-known comedians – were doing a great job with good laughs for young and old alike. The show was very long and with all the drinks, Cathy bladder was soon uncomfortably full. She was squirming but didn't want to leave right now at the most exciting moment when the winner in the category that interested her the most was about to be announced. Cathy looked up at her grandfather. He had noticed the squirming and just nodded. Cathy bit her lip and squeezed her pelvis hard. Hank kissed her forehead and rubbed her stomach. Bowing to the inevitable, Cathy put her thumb in her mouth and let go. In addition to the sheer relief, she also felt that strange pleasure she had experienced earlier when she woke up and wetted herself deliberately in the afternoon. At the same time, her favourite singer won the award, and her happiness was complete. Shortly after she fell asleep in her grandfather's lap. She was only barely awake when Hank cleaned her teeth, changed her into a dry nappy and plunked her into bed a little while later. The following morning, Cathy woke up early. The nappy was wet but not very heavy or uncomfortable. She decided to get up and watch TV while her grandfather slept. She got herself some cereal with milk and happily watched the morning show for small children. When that finished, she went back to her room and started playing with the toys that had been her mother's. When Hank finally woke up and went to check on Cathy, he saw that she was already up, sitting on the floor playing with the baby doll. From the doorway he could see her now heavy nappy. She stopped the game, but her thumb in her mouth and moments later the hissing sound announced that once more his granddaughter had reverted to being a little girl. "How about you finish changing Dolly and then I change you?" Hank asked. Cathy swirled around startled. Was Granddad really going to let her be in nappies all the time, she wondered. It would seem so. "Yes please," she whispered. Moments later the heavy nappy was off her, she got washed, powdered, and had a fresh nappy on. "I'll make the breakfast and call you when it's ready," Hank said. Cathy just nodded, smiled, and resumed the game. She couldn't have been happier. She was allowed to be a little girl. She had a nappy on. Not for sleeping and not for going places. Just to use – like she was a baby. They did go places though – to a matinee of a popular children's film. Cathy nappy was quite dry when they headed out, but she got popcorn to snack on during the movie and a large soda that went down quickly because of the salty snack. The movie was exciting. Perhaps a little too exciting, Cathy thought and before long she climbed up on Hank's lap. At the scariest point, she got such a fright she momentarily lost her bladder control and let out a large squirt of pee in the nappy. She was just about to cry but then remembered there was nothing to cry about. "I got so scared I wet myself," she giggled in Hank's ear. "That's OK Pumpkin. Little girls can wet whenever they like. That's why they have nappies on," Hank whispered back. "Hmmm," Cathy agreed. She put her thumb in her mouth, snuggled closely into Hank and let go again, this time on purpose. That happy feeling returned. It returned again when she wet herself once more during the long drive home. "Do you need a change?" Hank asked when they were back at house. "Yes please," Cathy said and led her grandfather by the hand to the bathroom. It was a scorching hot day and Cathy ran around in just a nappy until dinnertime. For the rest of the day, when ever Cathy felt the slightest urge, she would simply let go. And there was plenty coming – with the warm weather, Hank ensured she was drinking a lot of liquid. Chapter 8 During the following week Cathy was a happy little nappy girl. At no point after she scare in the cinema was, she unaware of wetting the nappy. In fact, that was true for day and night alike. From Sunday onwards she woke up dry every morning – but with a very full bladder. She would put her thumb in her mouth, let go and get the happy feeling. She never wore panties during the day, only nappies. Whenever she felt the nappy was too full or uncomfortable, she would ask Hank for a change. He did so without any comments. To his quiet relief she would always do number two on the toilet, but that wasn't commented on either. Unlike his daughter who thought the wetting was attention grabbing, he was sure that his granddaughter had been under a lot of pressure to 'be big'. What she needed was being allowed to be a little girl for a while. This Aussie Summer with Granddad gave her exactly that. On the Friday Hank had an unavoidable social/professional engagement. Remembering the sincere sounding offer by the teenaged twins, he rang his client, their mother, and asked if they could babysit. Assuring them that he wouldn't be far away and wouldn't stay out late, the mother's reservations were overruled by the girls' enthusiasm. The client was somewhat concerned about letting a pair of 13-year-olds looking after 'such a small girl', but Hank reassured her that Cathy as in fact 8, nearly 9, only very small for her age. "Bethany and Denise are going to look after you on Friday evening," Hank said when the agreement had been struck. Cathy was happy – she had liked the big girls a lot, but then she got concerned. "What about my, you know, my..." she trailed off and looked down. It was another very hot day, so all she wore was a nappy. Hank got it. "Your nappies?" he asked. "Not a problem. Babysitters need to take care of that all the time. Lots of kids are in night-nappies well into their school years and they will just be told you wear them during the day too." "OK," Cathy said. Granddad was so cool about it all. She hoped Bethany and Denise would be too. She could give up the nappies for an evening of course, but she didn't want to. She didn't have to. Bethany and Denise were way cool about it. Cathy was the little sister they never had, and they enjoyed looking after her. Even when told that Cathy was actually close to 9, not 5 that didn't change anything. They 'babied' her happily and nearly fought over who should change her. "How come you're wearing them now?" Denise asked when she had a moment alone with Cathy. She was more than a little curious about this nappy-business. "You didn't wear them when you visited us last." "I, uh, kind off, you know, kept being wet at night," Cathy said. "And then Granddad got them for me. And they feel good, and I fell, you know, safe." "And so you got to wear them during the day too?" Denise breathed. This was a concept she had never thought of. It had a strange appeal to her. "Yes," Cathy whispered. "It's nice not having to be big." That hit home. Unlike her twin-sister who was enjoying puberty – Bethany couldn't wait for her miniscule breasts to reach her mother's generous E-cup size; Denise had no desire to leave her childhood behind just yet. When Cathy was asleep and Bethany was watching TV, Denise snuck out to the bathroom, pinched a couple of nappies, and hid them in her bag. She was aware that they were too small for her, but she hoped she could somehow wear two and try out what it was like being a little girl herself. Hank actually spotted the nappies when he paid the girls for their babysitting duty a little later and Denise very reluctantly had to get her purse out. Luckily neither Bethany nor their mother who had come to pick them up noticed and Hank just winked to the blushing girl. Chapter 9 Cathy's happy 'extra summer' continued. Because of her small size, she had been held back from school a year – which was a mistake since she was exceedingly bright. Nevertheless, Camilla had promised the school that Cathy would keep up her school work while away, and so for an hour or so every day Cathy would sit at the table in the kitchen doing her year 5 school work, often 'dressed' in nothing but a nappy. Hank would watch her work on some problem in deep concentration, then see her 'faze out', her thumb drifting to her mouth and the tell-tale hissing announcing another wet nappy – before she resumed the work. Then, after a nappy change, a snack, a mid-day snooze and more often than not another nappy change, Cathy would resume playing like a five-year-old. She couldn't have been happier. All good things come to an end, the saying goes and mid February a very upbeat Camilla was on the phone again. "We did it Dad, we did it!" she exclaimed. "No new cases for the last week and no deaths for twice that. We'll hang in here for another week just to be sure, but then we're coming out to get Cathy." "That's lovely sweetheart," Hank said with feeling. "Well done indeed. Let me know when you get her so we can go up to Sydney to meet you." "Oh, don't worry about that Dad. We'll come and stay for a couple of days with you," Camilla said. "We'll let you know when we're there." "That would be lovely," Hank said in delight. Before he could get a chance to inquire exactly what his daughter meant by 'we' the line went dead. 'I wonder, I just wonder, ' Hank thought to himself, but he didn't say anything to Cathy about that. He did tell her about her mother's impending return of course. Cathy was out-and-out happy about that, as Hank had confidently expected. He did mention the nappy situation though, leaving it as an open choice for Cathy what she wanted to do. "Oh, I think I'll stop wearing them," she replied after a moment's thought. "Mum wouldn't want me to wear them and I couldn't wear them to school when I get home." She added a little wistfully. "I'll miss not having to be big." "Oh, I think there will be other things to think about that will make you happy," Hank said. "But we'd better start toilet training you," he added. "Going from nappies around the clock to completely dry in a week will not be easy." "That's OK," Cathy said. "It's not like I don't know when I need to pee." "Is that so?" Hank said – feigning surprise. "What about in the nights?" he added, genuinely not knowing. "I, uh, I've been, you know, dry every morning for a long time now," Cathy stammered – now worried that her grandfather might finally be annoyed with her. "Super," Hank said with feeling. "That makes it much easier. Don't panic if you have an accident or two, but let's work on avoiding them – you know, drink less before bed and remember to go to the toilet." "Sure," Cathy said with a big smile and a conspiratorial wink. "No need to upset Mum." A bit over a week later – a completely dry week later, Cathy and Hank were standing on the porch watching out for cars arriving. When a mid-sized rental parked at the curb, Cathy was beside herself with excitement. Then her mother got out – on the passenger side, and a moment later a tall handsome dark-skinned man got out from the driver's side. "Mum – Dad!!!" Cathy screamed and rushed down to meet them. Her embrace of Camilla was warm and genuine, but then she launched herself in Kamal's arms and wouldn't let go. "Dad, Dad, Dad. You came home. With Mum!" she kept repeating in a high excited voice. "So that's what you meant by 'we'," Hank said in his daughter's ear. "I was hoping that. Didn't tell Cathy though. I was sure she would love the surprise." "Yes Dad," Camilla smiled at her father. "Kamal was my saviour. When it looked the bleakest – two of my staff desperately ill, the rate of infection still going up and people dying like flies around me, he came to my rescue out of nowhere. We worked and worked and worked and got the epidemic under control. And at the same time, we fell in love all over again." Hank looked hard at his daughter. She bit her lip, then corrected herself. "That's not true. I never stopped loving him. It was all my stubborn pride. I guess all I needed was some excuse to let go of the anger and resentment. He gave me that again and again 20 hours a day for several weeks. I have never been so exhausted and never been so much in love." Three days later the little family left for the UK, promising to be back soon. Hank felt a big hole in his heart. "Thanks for everything," Cathy said after bestowing her grandfather with a final wet kiss. "My pleasure Pumpkin," Hank replied. "There is always room for my little girl in my house." Only Cathy heard and understood the emphasis on little girl. Her mother had asked in a generic way if there had been 'any problems'. Hank simply replied, in complete accordance with the truth, that no, there had been no problems. Cathy had looked up and smiled. Her secret was safe – as she knew it would be. Chapter 10: nearly a year later "Do you really think it is a good idea to go bush in your condition?" Hank asked worriedly, eyeing his daughter's clearly swelling belly. "Don't be such a worrier Dad," Camilla replied. "I'm fine. Pregnancy is not an illness. Besides I'm only there for show." "For show?" Hank asked incredulously. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Well, you know how Polio was so very nearly eradicated – but then some illiterate village clerics in outback Nigeria, one of the last places on earth where it is still rampant, got it into their heads that the immunization program was a Christian conspiracy to make Muslim girls infertile – and we lost the chance." Camilla said. "Ouch," Hank exclaimed. "That kind of thing can be pretty difficult to overcome." "Exactly," his daughter agreed. "So we'll use the same kind of tactics." "Huh?" Hank asked, not getting it. "Yes, well, we will tell them that the conspiracy was really to prevent Muslims from being immunized so that only they will die. The new program is paid for by the Sultan of Brunei – the world's richest Muslim. All health workers are Muslim women from Malaysia – many of them visibly pregnant. And the lead doctor is a respected Muslim from Pakistan – your son in law, bringing his also visibly pregnant wife," Camilla said, patting her belly. "They'll buy that." Hank laughed. "That's clever – it might just work." "We sure hope so," Kamal said. "As you say, it is nearly impossible to debunk conspiracy theories. But your clever daughter suggested that we out-conspiracy the previous one, as it were. It could just do the trick." He looked lovingly at Camilla. "It is certainly worth a try," Hank agreed. "And I take it no one will mention that the Muslim Doctor's Doctor-Wife is no Muslim herself?" he laughed. "Nah, we'll skip that one," Camilla agreed. "But that leaves you with the onerous task of entertaining Cathy for another summer," she said lightly. "I think I'll manage," Hank said with a dramatic sigh. "If only just..." Cathy's mock-outraged play-punch made them laugh all-round. They had spent a wonderful Christmas together in Canberra and now it was time for Camilla and Kamal to leave. They got into the taxi after a last final round of farewell hugs. Hank was standing behind Cathy with his left hand on her shoulder. They were both waving. As the taxi disappeared round the corner and out of sight, Cathy right hand went to her mouth. She sucked her thumb and released her aching bladder, completely flooding her jeans, socks, and shoes. "Granddad," she whispered barely louder than the hissing sound from her crotch. "I wet myself." "So you did Pumpkin," Hank said, "so you did. We'd better get you cleaned up and put you in a nappy." "Will last year's nappies still fit?" Cathy asked, taking Hank's proffered hand and walking back to the house. She had grown a lot since she was in Australia last. "No, I don't think so, "Hank answered, "But the new ones I bought will. You'll like them – they have a pretty pink pattern on them. And I've bought some nice skirts for you too." Cathy smiled happily. This was going to be a great summer. She walked a little awkwardly in her drenched jeans. She couldn't wait to be a care-free little girl in nappies and skirts again.

I found this gem in the archives of a long defunct bulletin board. I don't know who DTC/Dander9876 is/was - the only reference I can find is on the old Alt.Sex.Fetish.Diapers NewsNet group, and that is to a defunct AOL link. But from the time-stamp (GMT-5), it was someone in the Easter part of the US. Either way, it is a sweet story - enjoy. _______________________________________________ From: (Dander9786) Subject: WAITING FOR THUNDER chapter One Date: 3 Jan 1996 16:50:56 -0500 Waiting for Thunder BY THE DTC Introduction Who said the weather can't change your life? It changed mine. It all started when I was eleven years old. Chapter One THE FIRST TIME It started as a one night thing. Ever since I was really young I was afraid of lightning, and yes I wet myself when there was thunder. This one time, the weatherman said thunder was coming, and I got worried before it even got there. My mom pulled me aside and told me "Mikey, remember when grandma stayed with us and she wore diapers, well we have some left. I think you should wear one tonight since there is a storm coming and you know, you'll get scared." I couldn't argue with her, mainly because it sounded kind of fun to wear a diaper for one night. "Can you do it yourself or do you need me to do it for you?" She asked. Kind of a dumb question. I was eleven I had no clue how to put a diaper on. She did and my hand and led me to her room and had me lay on her bed. She was about to get me undressed when she stopped "You know, since it's getting late already. I think I'll just get your PJ's for you, and get them on you as well. I laid there nervously but a little excited as I waited for her to return. I was a little surprised to see she had picked out the footed sleeper my demented aunt had gotten me for Christmas, before I could argue she explained "I know, but I just figured it would hide the diaper better in case anyone came over tonight" As if anyone ever came over unannounced, but I opted not to complain. I stared at the ceiling as I felt her hands unbuckle buckle my belt and pull it free from my pants. She set the belt down next to me, and unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. I raised up a little so she could slide them out from under me and down to my ankles and finally completely off. She checked the pockets as always before throwing them in the clothes hamper. "Sit up honey" she said as she started to lift my shirt up, I did, and she pulled the shirt up over my head, and tickled me some while she had me blinded by my clothes. she threw my shirt in the hamper with my pants, and then had me lay back down. The last of my clothing, my underpants were slid out from under me as I turned red from embarrassment. My mother smiled acknowledging my embarrassment but didn't stop. She got up and grabbed one of grandmas diapers from the bag in her closet and returned to me. Again I raised up as she slid the diaper under me, and then pulled it tightly up my crotch. It was a little big for me, but mom said that would just make it work better, as she fasted the two tapes on each side. With my diaper on I stood up and mom helped me into my sleeper Zipping it all the way up, she smiled, kissed me on the forehead and said "You look so cute, I could just leave you like this forever, would you mind?" I jokingly said "Sure, why not" and she sent me with a slap to my well padded bottom, to go watch TV for a while. About an hour later, the thunder started getting close, and I instantly got scared. I yelled for my mom as I ran toward her room. I hoped on her bed and she grabbed me tight and held me as the thunder boomed above us. About the third lightning strike I felt myself wet my diaper. But I was too scared to care. I just let it flow into my diaper as I held on to my mom. Within an hour the lightning and thunder had gone off into the distance, and the sound was now so faint, it didn't bother me. My mom, seeing I had calmed down. Let go of me, and I wiped the tears from my cheeks as she patted my head. "Did you use your diaper honey?" I remembered my wet diaper, and was surprised that I hadn't felt wet, I felt dry, and it was kind of nice. "Yes mommy, I did" I said almost proud of the fact. My mom nodded to let me know she knew what I was thinking. "Well, I'll change you in a little while, why don't you go clean up your room some." I told her I would, and waddled off down the hall. The squishing of my diaper between my legs was somewhat comforting. It made me feel, I don't know, safe to be wearing a diaper. and somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard myself say I liked it. Chapter Two- THE CHANGE I had my room all clean and was watching TV when my mom finally came in to change me. To my surprise (and delight) she was holding another diaper. "Mikey honey, The weatherman says there might be more thunder tonight, so just to be safe, I think we should go ahead and put another diaper on you." I tried to hide my inner joy, but it escaped with my joyous response "OK!" as I started unzipping my sleeper so that my diaper could be changed. As I was undressing I saw myself in the mirror for the first time, and I had to admit, I did look cute in a diaper. Even if it was now sagging in the crotch from being heavily wet. I kicked off my sleeper and laid down on my bed, so Mom could change me. Mom giggled and talked to me as she changed me. "You know, it's been almost eight years since I have changed your diaper. You've gotten so big so fast, but you'll always be my little baby" I smiled at that. I loved it when she called me her little baby. Before I knew it I was diapered again, and my mom was handing me my sleeper to put back on. I got it on and zipped it up to the top. "Well, it's almost your bedtime, why don't you go brush your teeth and then get on into bed a little early tonight?" I usually would not have agreed, but for some reason I did tonight. I slept better than I had in years that night. My sleeper was so soft and warm, I had to admit I liked it, even though I cursed my aunt (behind her back of course) for getting me such childish clothes. There was no more thunder that night, but I used my diaper anyway. I had a bad dream and woke up in the middle of he night needing to pee real bad. But the dream had scared me and I didn't want to get out of bed, because the monsters might get me, so remembering my diaper, I just let it out. It was kind of nice, not wasting half the night about going to the bathroom. I just let it go and went right back to sleep. Chapter Three- DREAMS I woke up early since I had gone to bed early, so I went downstairs and turned on the TV, not really watching as I was still a little groggy, but I liked to lay on the couch and listen, and usually fall back asleep for a while. I did fall asleep on the couch, and I had a bad dream again, something was chasing me, I couldn't see what but it was after me, it finally grabbed me and I fell to the ground, and it grabbed me and..... I woke up screaming, but suddenly realized where I was. Mom was standing over me taking my wet diaper off of me, and I Jumped up and hugged her crying from the dream. mom sat down on the edge of the couch and just let me hold her till I felt better. After a few minutes I stopped crying and calmed down. "Well, are we feeling better now?" My mom asked me, I told her I was better now and said I was sorry for acting like a baby. "It's okay honey, we all get scared sometimes, it doesn't make you a baby" Mom always made me feel better. Mom went back to changing me, and with the wet diaper off she wiped me with a wash cloth to clean me up. "So am I putting another diaper on you?" The question confused me, Why was she asking me, there was no thunder in the morning, she can't possible know how much I like them, can she???...... Chapter Four- YES OR NO "Well, you can't stay naked all day, diapers or underpants?" She asked me again. I didn't know what to say, I knew I liked the diapers, but didn't want to admit it. " Mikey, There is a good chance there will be thunder this afternoon, but it's up to you" Possible thunder made it easier for me, and even at my young age I knew that mom had said that to make me feel better "I better wear a diaper then" I said trying to sound like I was giving in to my needs and not my desires. "Good choice" Mom said as she picked up a diaper she had brought with her. She got me diapered, then told me to get up and go get dressed. I ran upstairs to get dressed with the crinkling of my diaper following right behind me. I had to struggle to get my already tight jeans on over my diaper and upon looking in the mirror it was obvious I had a diaper on. I grabbed a baggy shirt from my closet and left it hanging out over my jeans to cover my bulging rear. Then I ran back downstairs to join my mom in the living room. Chapter Five- TO PEE OR NOT TO PEE I joined my mom on the couch and sat close to her as we watched the morning talk shows. My mom put her arm around me and held me closer to her, and I just stayed there enjoying my moms loving touch. Half way into the show I had to pee, and I had to pee bad. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to use my diaper cause I might get in trouble since it wouldn't be an accident, and I was kind of embarrassed to tell my mom to take my diaper off so I could go to the bathroom. I held it while I thought. Within minutes it was getting tough to hold it in, and mom finally noticed my straining "What's wrong honey" she asked me. I told her I had to pee real bad, and she looked at me and said then go pee! "But mom, I can't use my diaper if I don't have too, can I?" I asked in a tone that begged her to give me a yes answer. She did give me a yes, and with a sigh of relief I relaxed and let my bladder empty into my diaper. "Feel better now?" Mom asked me. Sighing again I said yes. "Do you need me to change you now?" she asked me next. "No, I can wait a while" I told her, I liked the feel of the diaper when it was swollen with pee and warm and squished when I moved. Mom just smiled and we went back to watching TV. After OPRAH mom changed me again. Commenting on how tight my pants were she suggested we go out after lunch and get a larger pair. I agreed even though it seemed silly since I was only wearing diapers for a day or two....... _______________________________________________ That's all there was. I've toyed with a continuation, but cannot find the original author to get permission. /WSwriter

Thanks for the kind feedback. A second chapter is in the works, but it could be a while...

The Nurse “Are you the new Nanny?” 11-year-old Quentin Tarquin Viscount Dunblane, only son and heir of His Grace the 14th Duke of Leeds, was eyeing the young woman who was holding his infant sister, make that half-sister, on her hip. 2½-year-old Isabella Leonora – Izzy – turned her head in a broad baby-toothed smile when she heard her brother’s voice but didn’t take her little hand off the young woman’s very substantial breast. Quentin – QT to his friends (and “Cutie” amongst the girls in his class, but he didn’t know that) was in most respects still a little boy, yet he felt a vague sense of envy that his sister could do that. The young woman was of around average height, yet had broad hips to match her large breasts, and Quentin was aware of an undefinable desire. “I’m the new Nurse,” the young woman smiled back at Quentin. “What’s the difference?” Quentin asked. “I’m sure you will work it out,” the young woman replied with an even warmer smile, sat down, unbuttoned her shirt, flipped down a flap on her white bra to unveil a large pink nipple and in seconds, Isabella had latched on and was noisily suckling. Quentin was staring transfixed. He was about to ask further questions, but the young woman held a finger up in front of her mouth to shush him. After a minute or too the suckling became quieter and then ceased completely, and Quentin was aware that Izzy was now asleep. In one practiced fluid motion, the Nurse detached the sleeping toddler from her nipple, closed up the bra and shirt and carried the little girl into her waiting bed in the darkened Nursery. Coming back out to the lounge, she walked over to Quentin, squatted down in from of him and offered her hand. “You must be Quentin,” she said. “You are home a little bit earlier than I was expecting.” “Yeah, the PE Master was taking some of the bigger boys to a match somewhere, so we were sent home early,” Quentin confirmed – not wanting to let go of the warm soft hand caressing his. The Nurse smiled. “Are you hungry for a snack?” “Yes please,” Quentin confirmed, “Eh, what do I, I mean…” He trailed off. “Yes?” the Nurse encouraged. “What do I call you?” Quentin blurted out. “Well, my name is Elizabeth Andersson, so I supposed you should call me ‘Miss Andersson’ – at least in public or when your parents or their staff overhear us, but when we are alone you can call me ‘Nurse’ or ‘Nanny’ – or even ‘Mummy’ if you want to.” The last was added in a sweet voice that made Quentin feel all warm and fuzzy. “I would like that,” he blurted, and the Nurse pulled him in to a warm embrace – something that was sadly rare in Quentin’s life. “Let’s go and get you that snack I promised,” the Nurse said, took Quentin by the hand and let him to the kitchen. The Ducal Palace was huge, but the family rarely used it at all. It, and the extensive grounds, were open to the public most days to offset the colossal cost of the upkeep, so His Grace’s family occupied apartments in the old stable buildings – one for His Grace and his second wife, Izzy’s mother, another for the butler and housekeeper (an elderly married couple) and one for the children and their current Nanny, or as was the case now, Nurse. Despite the opulent surroundings, it was nothing more than a pleasant 3-bedroom flat with two and a half baths, a decent lounge, a kitchen with room for a dining table and a small hall with cupboards. His Grace “worked in the City” earning money, and Her Grace worked on spending it – so they were rarely on the Estate and practically never saw their children – or each other, for that matter. Hiring a Nurse when the previous Nanny had resigned to go to university, had been handled by Her Grace’s new private secretary who had never met the children, had no idea exactly how old Izzy was, and had said “Yes” to “Do you want a proper Nurse?” when asked at the agency. Over a delicious but healthy snack, Quentin and the Nurse got acquainted. Quentin readily allowed that he liked the village secondary school well enough – much better than the boarding school he had been sent to – and ignobly returned from – at the beginning of the school year. “Your step-mother’s secretary tells me you are wet at night,” the Nurse said. She did so in a quiet non-confrontational way, but Quentin blushed all the way down his neck and got defensive – it was his daily nightmare walking up in a cold drenched smelly bed and had been the reason for him being sent home from the boarding school – an expensive “Public School”, as the English so quaintly call their must prestigious private institutions – where five generations of his ancestors had attended. “Poor darling,” the Nurse said and came to hug him. “I’ve had the mattress replaced this morning and I promise you that you will never wake up in a wet bed when in my care.” Quentin, burying his head in her amble bosom, didn’t challenge how that miracle was to be accomplished – at this stage if Mummy told him the sky was yellow and the sun blue, he would have believed her. When Izzy woke up from her nap, Quentin played with her – and at the Nurse’ instigation, read some books for her. “I know the stories are a little young for you,” see said to Quentin while attending to Izzy’s smelly nappy, “but there was a letter from your new teachers that you need to practice your reading – and your sister loves it.” Quentin agreed unflinchingly. After an early dinner, or “tea” as it is called in England, Izzy was bathed and put in a thicker nappy for the night. The Nurse then nursed her to sleep on the sofa in the lounge. Once more Quentin was on the brink of asking about it, and once more he was shushed until Izzy was asleep in her bed in her room. “How come you can, you know, give her milk from your, your...” Quentin blushed deep red and trailed off. “My breasts. They are called breasts,” the Nurse said. “Or boobs. Boobs is OK too. Other words are vulgar, and we don’t use them.” “Your breast,” Quentin repeated. “I mean, have you got a baby of your own, I mean, don’t you need that to, to...” “Lactate?” the Nurse prompted. “Yeah, that is the most common, but no, you don’t need to. I’ve had milk in my boobs ever since Mum had the twins when I was 14. She was poorly, so I helped feeding them – and I have had milk ever since.” “How old are your brothers?” Quentin asked. “They are eleven, just like you” “How long, I mean, when did you stop?” – again Quentin trailed off. “I never really stopped. Of course, I moved out from home for my first resident Nurse job when I was 19 so it was more now and then after that,” the Nurse replied. Before Quentin could follow up on that, the Nurse took him by the hand. “Bath time!” she said and let him to the biggest bathroom and started filling the tub. She then turned around and started undressing Quentin. “I can undress myself,” he protested. “Of course you can,” the Nurse agreed. “You are eleven years old. But you don’t have to when Mummy is here.” Surrendering to the joy of being cared for, Quentin docilely let himself be stripped naked – exhibiting no embarrassment at being stark naked in front of what had been a complete stranger only a couple of hours ago. “Tsk tsk, you poor darling,” the Nurse exclaimed when she saw the red irritated skin on Quentin’s groin and upper thighs. ‘Nappy rash’ is a misnomer; you can get it from lying in a wet pajamas for many hours night after night. She washed him all over with infinite care, lifted him out of the water and dried him – gently dapping the affected areas to limit the pain. “Let Mummy take care of you,” she said, and expertly flipped Quentin over to lay him on a towel-covered yoga matt on the floor. She then proceeded to apply a soothing layer of Izzy’s nappy cream followed by baby talcum all over Quentin’s crotch. “Lift up your bum,” she said. Though confused Quentin complied, and the Nurse unfolded a thick tween-sized night nappy and slid it in under him. “What are you doing?” Quentin asked startled. “Putting your nappy on,” she replied. “But I don’t wear nappies!” Quentin exclaimed. “I know,” the Nurse agreed. “That’s why you’ve woken up wet, cold and miserable every night with rashed skin.” “But, but,,,” Quentin trailed off. “Mummy promised you that you would never wake up wet again,” the Nurse said while hugging Quentin tightly. “How did you think I was going to keep that promise otherwise?” “But, but,,,” Quentin started again. “Hush, it’s OK baby,” the Nurse cooed in Quentin’s ear. “You need them.” All fight went out of Quentin. Nurse was right; he needed nappies. The Nurse pulled Quentin up on his feet, put an old-fashioned night-shirt over his head, expertly brushed his teeth and, with more strength than Quentin would have thought she had, lifted him up on her hip and carried him into his room. One of the comfortable armchairs from the lounge had been moved in there and the Nurse sat down in it, positioned Quentin across her lap, undid her shirt and nursing bra and offered Quentin a nipple already dripping with milk. “Your sister is not drinking very much, so my boobs are painfully full. Please help me Quentin,” she said to the shocked boy. “What, I mean how?” Quentin asked, but almost automatically, as if driven by some unseen force, lowered his head to her breast and opened his mouth. “Just like that,” the Nurse cooed. “You can’t remember how you did as a baby,” she allowed while wondering if he had actually ever been breast-fed, “but just use your tongue to massage my breast under the nipple.” After a few false starts, Quentin was rewarded with a mouthful of warm, sweet milk and was instantly hooked. For the next many minutes, he drank greedily, emptying first one then the other breast. The Nurse meanwhile cooed sweet nothings in his ear – and enjoying one long continuous low-level orgasm; something she had felt from the very first time she nursed her baby brothers and the reason she made a profession out of being a wet nurse. Shortly after the second breast had been emptied a sated, snug and happy Quentin drifted off to sleep and the Nurse placed him in his bed, turned the night-lamp down to a minimum and tip-toed out of the room. The next morning, Quentin woke up with a start wondering what was wrong. Or not so much ‘wrong’ perhaps as ‘different’. He stretched out, felt the sagging nappy around his waist and instantly recalled the previous evening. He also realized that for the first time in years he did not wake up in a cold wet smelly bed. “How is Mummy’s Baby Boy this morning?” the Nurse sing-sang to him. Quentin wanted to frown at that, but the hug and kiss he got, and the infinite care with which she removed the heavy nappy, gently washed him, and then applied a perfume free barrier cream made him pause. “Can’t have you smelling of baby power in school, can we?” she observed. Quentin couldn’t agree more. He got dressed, went to the kitchen for his breakfast, cleaned his teeth and then it was off to school. The school day was “normal”, except he was not as tired and stressed as he usual was and he was not in pain from the rash in his groin, which according to the Nurse was already improving. It was also “normal” in that they weren’t let out early, so when he arrived home, the Nurse had just put Izzy down for her nap. “How was your day Sweetheart?” the Nurse asked. Startled – no one had ever asked him that before, Quentin launched into a long list of the day’s highlights with his substitute Mummy keenly listening and asking more questions. When he ran out of steam, she ruffled Quentin’s hair, gave him a long hug, and then asked him about homework. Quentin admitted he had ‘a fair bit’ but also admitted that he was ‘rather tired’. “Why don’t you have a nap too?” the Nurse suggested. Quentin considered that for a moment, nodded, and was then let by the hand to his room. The Nurse started to undress him, and he was happy enough to get out of his school uniform, but she also removed his underwear and before he could ask about it, she flipped him over to lay on the improvised ‘change mat’ from the night before. She expertly applied cream and powder, retrieved a nappy, and lifted up Quentin’s legs and bottom before he could even react. “But I only wet at night,” he protested – even if the protest was somewhat feeble. “We know that you wet when you sleep,” the Nurse countered. “We don’t know if it happens during naps too.” Again, Quentin had no time to respond before the nightshirt was on and he was lying across the Nurse’s lap with his mouth attached to her long nipple. Thirstily he drained both of her breast before drifting off. When he woke up from his ‘nap’ an hour later, the nappy was soaked. She wiped him and dressed him in underpants, tee shirt and sweatpants. He then worked on his schoolwork interspersed with playing with, and reading too, his delighted little sister before they had their early tea in the kitchen. The evening was a repeat of the day before with the exception of the surprises. It felt shockingly normal after a shockingly short time. It became the pattern for the week and when he on Friday was called to read aloud in class, his teacher commended him for a clearly improved performance. Quentin basked in the rare success. That afternoon he remembering to mention that he had been praised for his reading from just having practiced reading aloud to Izzy the last several days. “That’s wonderful,” the Nurse exclaimed. “You get better at reading; Izzy is happy, and I have time to prepare our tea. I call that a win-win-win.” Quentin agreed. His agreement, however, was non-verbal as he already had Nurse’s fat nipple in his mouth. The following weeks were much the same. Quentin and Izzy’s parents graced them (pun intended) exactly once with a brief visit. When inquiring about the ‘bed wetting business’, Miss Andersson (as Quentin remembered to refer to her as) assured Her Grace that there had not been a single wet bed. The housekeeper later confirmed the same, calling it a ‘blessing’ since it cut down on the amount of washing she had to do. The housekeeper, a grandmotherly type, knew exactly how that turnaround had been accomplished, but Her Grace didn’t ask, and the nappies were never mentioned. His Grace was most gratified seeing Quentin’s much improved report sheet from the school. All up the Duke and Duchess spent just under one hour with their children and staff before changing into evening wear and heading off to yet another cocaine fuelled evening of debauchery. When the Nurse had a rare day off, the housekeeper and her husband the butler baby-sat. The housekeeper handled both children’s nappies without comment or complaint. Initially she didn’t know about the nursing of Quentin, and she obviously couldn't provide that service, but since it was only for some hours, the milk supply didn’t dry up. For Christmas the Duke and Duchess were on a private cruise in the Caribbean, so the Nurse and the two children celebrated with the housekeeper and butler in what to an outsider would look like a completely ordinary family affair with two children, their single mother and her parents. Quentin and Izzy loved it. When both children were nursed to sleep, the housekeeper just commented on how lucky they were. In the Spring, Quentin and Izzy saw their parents exactly twice. Meanwhile, Izzy weaned herself – as most kids approaching 4 do – both of the breast and her day-time nappies. The Nurse’s milk supply did not dry up however since Quentin happily emptied her large breasts at least twice a day and quite frequently had an extra ‘drink of milk’ during the day. He also wet his nappy without fail every time he was put down to sleep. He consistently called her ‘Mummy’ and she called him her ‘Baby Boy’ when no-one else were around, but that was just a term of endearment. The nature of their relationship changed when one day Quentin came home from school an hour late (due to cricket try-outs) with a rather full bladder. He didn’t get a chance to go to the toilet as the Nurse basically rushed him into his room. “I’m so glad you are home; my boobs are bursting” she exclaimed will hastily stripping Quentin down to the buff. “But I need to pee,” Quentin protested as a nappy was being attached securely. “Never mind,” the Nurse said. “In twenty minutes or so it would be soaked anyway.” While nursing him from her aching breasts – the relief was palpable – she gently stroked and petted him, applying gently pressure on his lower abdomen. With a quiet whimper, Quentin surrendered to the inevitable, letting go of his aching bladder with a drawn-out audible hissing sound while redoubling his suckling. “That’s right,” the Nurse said as an orgasm raked through her body, “that’s right – you’re a real baby now drinking milk from Mummy’s boobs while you pee in your baby nappy.