Les Lea

Thanks CDfm, as always I appreciate you taking time to comment and I'm always pleased you find them entertaining. A boy, his nappy and a caring aunt... what more could a sweet boy at grammar school need?

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 #

Thanks really pleased you enjoyed it. Hope one or two of my others also hit the spot.

Thanks Sarah, I always appreciate a smiley face

Thanks fellow Yorkshireman glad you liked the story.

Glad you enjoyed the story Who knew that developing Xtreme nappies could lead to such disastrous consequences

Part 8 Jennifer was on the phone to her husband worried about the effects of the drug on Davey. She’d known about the constant endeavour for the company to come up with a product that fulfilled Grandfather Harry’s vision of the desire for “...protection that would last throughout a lifetime”. She also knew that it was only recently, with a new, younger design team, who had taken that concept much further. Meanwhile, the trials continued and it was young Davey who got to try out each prototype. She couldn’t complain as she’d let her son be the guinea pig all his life but this new incident was scary. “But one minute he’s acting normally and the next, almost within seconds, he’s like a toddler wanting to play with his toys.” She was explaining, as much as complaining to Gary about the drastic effects on their son. Gary had already taken this on board and had been discussing this glitch with his project chief, a thirty-five year old, super-smart chemist called Abraham Gunney. He’d nodded and shook his head as if it was nothing to be too concerned about. “The main thrust of this new disposable, the Xtreme, is to make people want to wear it, in fact, desire the object above all other options when it comes to underwear... correct?” He was in his bosses face to make sure he understood where he was coming from. Abraham was a man who was confident in his own abilities and proud of developing this brand new concept, which he’d predicted would make Prestige Pharmacists Products a world leader. The new Xtreme (he planned to change its name when released in the USA to DiapersXdream) was everything the old man could have hoped for; desirable, addictive and fashionable, his team had done a remarkable job. Although this was the aim, Gary was out of his depth as to the means. Although he knew all about the special infused drug that was released as the cleverly quilted disposable was used he had no real concept of the ultimate ingenious design that was worked to contain a day’s waste. The lace and filigree design, the special fabric coating, new multi-layered poly-carbon, poly-cotton derivatives and pseudo-silk materials that had been specifically conceived. It had all been a major development under the ingenious and inspirational drive of Abraham Gunney and his crew of nappy pioneers. Abe was intense, focused but with a short fuse, so, his social skills were few. However, his genius was obvious so allowances were made. He knew his development was working and hated interference... even from his boss. # Abraham Gunney was not new to the world of incontinence. His sister Florence had internal problems from birth and an operation when she was seven had made things worse. The poor girl was destined for a life of constant wetness. She hated the bags that were fitted and eventually settled on wearing a nappy to deal with her constant flow. Her brother, seeing her distress and occasional resentment, though making the best of it, spent his early years trying to find something to make her life that much better. At university he majored in physics, chemistry and biology and surprised his tutors by being extremely advanced in his ideas and techniques. Always with Florence at the forefront of his mind he set about developing a nappy that would add to her pleasure rather than deal with her bitterness. Whilst at Uni he experimented with drugs and saw the positive side of some of their effects. He postulated his own theory but needed a breakthrough system to deliver the results. So, when an opportunity arose at Prestige Pharmacists Products, a completely new and technological advance was needed he pulled together a team of young visionaries to do just that. # Abraham dismissed Gary’s concern for his son as something that would soon pass; a mere hitch in an otherwise brilliant piece of engineering. “We’ll just have to regulate the barrier cream, the anti-rash cream, and the soaker pads that should help neutralise the effects, a little more.” The thick nappy with the extra (special) soaker pads that Davey had been put into after he’d worn the Xtreme were meant to help counterbalance any of the drug effects was Abraham’s answer. They were impregnated with a special agent to diffuse such an effect but it hadn’t worked. Unknown to Gary, whilst he was using his son to gauge new products, Abraham was trying out each development on his sister. There he was getting nothing but positive results from a woman of thirty three, unfortunately, Davey’s teenage metabolism couldn’t cope with the severe changes. Abraham was dismissive of the boy’s results and regarded them as minor setbacks taking more notice of Florence’s reactions than David’s. Gary understood these points but he hadn’t witnessed what Jennifer had, the complete regression of Davey from a lively teenager to a weepy toddler... and in such a dramatic fashion. Abraham was definite that with just a few tweaks and a couple more tests, they should soon have the levels correct and could then launch their unbelievable addictive product on the masses. # There was a moment when I was playing when I realised what I was doing. Why on earth should I, a teenager, be running toy cars up a pile of nappies, sucking on a dummy and talking to Mr Teddy? This may have been okay in a dream but (I pinched myself) this wasn’t a dream. Mum had even spoken to me as if I was a toddler and... and... Bbbrrrmmmm, bruuummm... screech... (suck, suck, suck)... # Jennifer had been appeased by her husband’s conviction that what was happening to Davey was merely a temporary set-back and that he’d be “as right as rain” very shortly. She poked her head around Davey’s bedroom door and saw him laid out on his front, plastic pants bulging under the sheer volume that his thick, soaker-filled nappy had contained and reckoned it was way past the time for a change. Davey was deep in his game, shoving cars around and making appropriate noises as they tore around a make-believe track. When she called him he didn’t respond although a wriggle and a crinkle told her it was definitely time for a change. Whilst he continued to play she went to the closet and got all the bits necessary; more super-soakers to fit into his fleecy fabric nappy and a pair of extremely thick white rubber pants to hold the bulk in. She’d been told the soakers contained a neutraliser so was determined to get whatever was coursing around his system out and hoped he wouldn’t argue about her unwieldly decision. Of course, he very rarely argued about anything regarding his nappies but as she approached she noticed the faraway look in his eyes. “Okay sweetheart, let’s get you into something a bit drier shall we?” Panic ran through her body when she realised that he had no idea who she was. There was no recognition at all. # The boss of Prestige Pharmacists Products had no idea that Abraham was running his own trial with his sister. He’d never even mentioned he had a sister and kept that side of his life very separate. Gary had no idea that the pile of soaker pads he took home was in fact a specially impregnated batch aimed at giving Florence a sensation of complete and utter euphoria. She had gotten to like the new protection her brother was bringing home and urged him to develop even more extremes – it had given her a new lease of life and a desire for protection which gave her more than just a buzz between her legs. This new, infused compound, which wasn’t illegal as no one knew about it, was proving quite toxic to Davey. Jenny didn’t know that she was making it worse by wrapping him in such thick protection, having no idea they weren’t what Gary had told her about. As it was, she got a totally vacant looking Davey into a new, ultra-thick nappy but he couldn’t focus, eat or do anything but dribble and appear mystified by everything around him. She even had to resort to feeding him, which wasn’t very successful but thankfully, his co-ordination for nursing on a bottle was still there so he managed some nourishment. Jenny was really worried that the constant testing of products on her son had inevitably led to such consequences. Eyes that looked but didn’t see - the total absence of any response - Davey’s wobbly head and non-existent verbal skills were increasing his mother’s anxiety. Of course, up until now all had been going well, her son had accepted his role and wore what they’d told him but now, with this new product, what had gone so drastically wrong? Jenny took her fears out on her husband who wanted answers and, after denials and obfuscation, had eventually got the truth from Abraham. He confessed about the super –soaker pads meant for his sister and Jenny was quickly informed to get Davey out of all his current nappies and protection and urgently replace it with his old thick terry nappies. Aware now of the problem Jenny speedily ripped off her son’s drug-infused nappy, wiped him clean and applied coating after coating of neutralising balm and hoped for the best. Throughout this her fifteen year old son just looked glassy-eyed and unable to coordinate anything. Again she slipped a bottle of formula between his lips and at least his compulsion to suck was still there. He was now more baby than he had been when he was a baby. # Abraham explained to his boss that the reason the company had been able to make such huge strides toward getting their new product up and running was thanks to the responses from his sister and latterly Davey. The product itself was well-liked - in fact both test subjects had responded very positively to it. Xtreme worked and worked unbelievably well, yet despite this current set-back, its success should be applauded. Abraham was not so much dismissive of Davey’s problem he was more excited by the way Xtreme could be marketed. He promised that Gary’s son would be ‘tickety-boo’ in a day or so and to stop worrying, all their efforts, he argued, should now be focused on getting the brand known and into the appropriate outlets. Gary was angry but also knew that he had pushed and pushed for this new product and it had fulfilled all expectations. In fact, his son had been only too keen to wear the new Xtreme permanently if he could. The soaker pads were a mix-up, a mistake that could easily happen in a busy environment like the development lab. Gary had to take as much responsibility as Abraham... and he wasn’t worried at all; even when, after three days, Davey had shown no signs of improvement. # Meanwhile, Xtreme was being worn by all the development staff, Gary included. It was true; it did give the wearer an incredible feeling. The new designed fabric, the cleverness of its intricacies, its ability to store waste and the exotic colours it went through – was spectacular. The final colour was changed to black when the disposable was at capacity. Everyone reported back that as soon as they changed out of their filled Xtreme the only alternative they wanted was the finesse and comfort of another Xtreme – normal underwear was discarded like last year’s fashion. The team knew they had created the very thing that Harry Harrison had hoped for – except a thousand times better than he could have dreamed. # Over the next few months a subtle advertising campaign was launched. Word spread amongst those celebrities who’d tried out the Xtreme and the desire to own such an item became ‘the thing’. Fashion and celebrity bloggers were ecstatic claiming a major shift when it came to ‘usage und style’. Prestige Pharmacists Products (now Prestige Xtreme) was catapulted into the big time. Everyone wanted their wonderful new and exciting invention and, with a price designed to keep elite customers coming back, they soon had an influential clique clambering at their door. It had been Abraham’s idea to keep the product exclusive, thus keeping it as a premium brand. They allowed a similar brand, PowerXtreme without the full ‘ecstasy’ drug quotient but still maintaining the rest of Xtreme capabilities, to be available to the masses. Underwear companies were playing catch-up and desperate to find something to compete but without success – soon anyone who was anyone only wore Power or PrestigeXtreme (or in the USA DiaperXdream). The concept had been an unbelievable success and even when questions were raised by health and government bodies, the clamour from the public meant the cases were never tested or got to court. Gary’s company quickly became an industry leader thanks to Abraham and the young team of innovators who had made everyone involved incredibly wealthy. Their success inspired them to create more and more incredible products and develop the ultimate indispensable disposable. underwear that care Life is a dream in Xtreme Supreme Now available at only the best pharmaceutical outlets. # The Harrison family had riches beyond their wildest imagining and Gary had fulfilled his grandfather’s vision of the firm’s desirability of its ‘products for all generations’ but their only son would never appreciate or inherit what they’d built up. They were able to afford the very best of everything but for him his future was a life of baby’s bottles, prams, dribbles and soaked nappies. Davey could only gurgle at his parents, even if he no longer knew who they were. He was given the very best to make life better but, his life would never get better. The company had developed a ‘forever’ nappy for someone who now needed one permanently. Davey sat drooling in his crib wearing the latest colourful creation... he was the only casualty in the product’s development but after all the years of being told “because we say so” now it was because he had to. ### ---------The End---------

Hi Elfy I am just loving this tale I wonder if Tommy will ever get any of his potency back or if a life of teenage toddlerdom is all he can hope for. His father seems convinced he's been too lenient in the past... but will the boy, like the worm, turn? Can't wait for each chapter... I am well and truly hooked.

Thanks babycheryl for your continued support... the final chapter should be added next week.

Part 7 I’d never worn anything like them before. I’d never had such unbelievable sensations being sent through my body and which settled in my head. I can’t remember ever being so content, and at the same time, flabbergasted with what occupied my groin. I was in awe of what had been produced and, now wrapped in a thick fluffy nappy, missed the serenity that new disposable had bestowed. Whilst this feeling of wellbeing buzzed happily in my head I found myself unexpectedly searching in the cupboards for something, I wasn’t sure what. I leafed through the piles and piles of fabric squares, disposables, vinyl pants and every other piece of apparatus designed for my ‘comfort’ but I just couldn’t find what I was searching for. It didn’t help that I had no idea what it was; I just had this urge to discover. I was looking for something to compliment my thick, thick nappy and eventually, what entered my head was an idea from my earlier dream – I needed a stuffed animal to hug and some toys to play with. I’m a teenager, so knew all my kid’s stuff had been either packed or given away, yet the impulse to find a teddy bear to cuddle was becoming the most important of tasks. I could even hear myself whimpering because of my lack of success and tears were forming in my eyes. I threw myself onto the bed and roared in frustration, shouting for mummy and feeling little. It seemed like I was two years old again and, just like the dream, needed to be surrounded by my things from that time. As I rolled around in despair my plastic pants crinkled and slid around the sheets. The thick bulk a comfort but not as much as the fantastic new disposable had been. I was crying because I wanted to be put back in one of those as much as I wanted a teddy to hug. Mum came in and stroked my padded bottom. “There, there sweetheart.” She seemed to sense, or perhaps she already knew, what ailed me as I tried between huge sobbing gulps to get the words out, I couldn’t find Mr Teddy. She stroked my naked back and then my head. “Don’t worry little fella, I’ll find him for you... I know where he is... you just relax and let mummy sort it out.” With a final stroke of my head and a caress of my silky cushioned bottom, she went off somewhere. She was only gone moments when I felt a nice soft fluffy object being pressed into my arms. “Yay, Mr Teddy” I screamed in delight. My tears had all but stopped by then but I was sucking on my thumb. Her hand searched down the front and back of my protection but I was still dry. She smiled. “I’ll bring some toys for you to play with in a little while but I want my sweet baby to have a little rest now and mummy will be back soon with some nice num-nums. In the meantime Little Davey, let’s lose this soggy thumb... and my sweet boy can suck on this.” Where she’d got it from, or how long she’d had it, I have no idea but replacing my wet digit with a clear plastic dummy, which tasted of caramel, soon had me sucking joyously on this new addition to my ensemble. Was Tasty Teats a new product from the workshop? I no longer felt I was a teen; I was where I needed to be – being looked after by my mummy and feeling all the love and comfort she always offered. I hugged Mr Teddy tightly and rolled over onto my side. The constant crinkle with each movement made it like teddy was chatting to me. We had a terrific conversation before mummy came back with a bottle. # Although initially taken by surprise by such a staggering regression, Jennifer had been warned by her husband that the new style disposable could have some significant side effects. She was warned to be prepared for all occasions and that might just mean some very childish behaviour. Of course this was nothing new. Over the years that David had been wearing such things Prestige Pharmacists Products had been trying to develop structures that offered more than just protection. For instance; this new fabric was made up of many layers of specially treated material, bonded by a coating of a new synthetic compound, which released pleasure pheromones and a blissful elixir to be absorbed through the skin and eventually find itself into the wearer’s brain. The chemical formula was not much different to that of the party and ‘feel-good’ social drug, Ecstasy. As the disposable was used... more of the drug was released, whilst the cunning weave of the fabric held the contents in place. Meanwhile, Davey might show some puzzling signs, or experience some changes to his mental state, but these should be very brief interludes. Jennifer simply had to just play along with whatever his mind conjures up - in this case, his desire to be a two year old. The new range of Tasty Teats was aimed primarily at those who needed instant childish gratification. The chemical ‘palate receptor’ was made in various essences depending on what the subject’s favourite flavour was. The sucking action filled the mouth and mind with a pleasing process that transported the person to a period in their life where this simple act was all they were required to do. With his temporary blissful mental state David’s mind took him to a place where cares and worry didn’t exist for him. As a toddler his world was just play, eat and poop, where everything was taken care of and his only worry was if he couldn’t find Mr Teddy. Both his parents stood at their son’s bedroom door and watched as he gleefully sucked down the huge bottle of warm milk; in between he continued to speak in baby talk to Mr Teddy as he played. His thick nappy crinkled loudly which indicated that, for the time being at least, he was relatively dry. He seemed happy that his entire world revolved around the area of his mattress and appeared unable to move past the edges because of the perceived long drop to the floor. In his head David and Mr Teddy were having a wonderful time as long as they stayed on their cosy island. He was scared of what lay below but his stuffed bear was very comforting on the matter. Later mum brought in more toys and lifted her son off the bed and onto the floor reassuring him that all was well and he needn’t be worried as all the scary stuff had been banished from the area. She gave him another bottle, which he snaffled down with equal speed as he’d done the first one, the chemicals in his system making him very thirsty indeed. He eagerly played for over two hours pushing his toy cars all over his carpet and making cities and mountains from boxes, cushions and piles of fresh nappies. Later, exhausted, he fell asleep propped up against the bottom of his bed, which is where is mother found him soaked and fast asleep. She woke him up. # I couldn’t believe the dream I’d just had but as I opened my eyes and looked around the room at the toys, my old teddy, the bottle and my mum’s smiling face, I realised it wasn’t a dream. “Hi sweetie, you’re really soaked but, for the moment at least, I want you to wear it a little longer and see if you can add to it.” I was still coming round but this was a strange request, normally I’m changed immediately after I wet. Mum was inspecting the saturated fabric through the see-thru plastic pants and nodding saying yes there was more soakability yet. Soakability? Why was she talking to me like I was a child? Mum had got me thinking about something other than the fact I was surrounded by the debris of a toddler, which incidentally was what I’d been ‘dreaming’ about, so I was distracted from what my main question was. “Mum it doesn’t feel so nice.” I said as I pushed at the front of my soaked nappy. I was actually comparing my sopping protection to the wonderful disposable I’d worn so recently. She stopped and stared at me for a few seconds and I wondered if I’d done something wrong. “Yes, I know Pumpkin but your father has asked for you to wear that until he comes home. Perhaps he’ll have another of those new nappies for you to wear then.” A shudder of anticipation ran through my body at the very mention of wearing one of those new-fangled disposables. Strangely, this quietened me down and all questions were immediately silenced at the prospect of a new ‘super disposable’. I didn’t want to harm my chances of getting into another as soon as possible so; a wet nappy for a few hours wasn’t going to interfere with such an opportunity. # Never before had I longed to wear a new nappy so much. I was always pleased when I was changed, a fresh, clean and dry nappy for me at least was far better than a soggy one. However, with this distinct prospect a tingle of expectation and desire surged through my body culminating in a surge of pee flooding my drenched nappy even more. It didn’t matter in the slightest. A sudden compulsion to go and play some more with teddy and the toys also coursed through my nervous system but each movement was met with a squishy accompaniment that made me think twice. I suddenly realised I was fifteen and not a two year old, even if I was wearing an incredibly wet nappy. Having said that, I was now so hyped up about receiving and wearing a new disposable I hugged teddy very tightly, sharing my excitement with my furry friend. I was aware of my childish enthusiasm for the new disposable and asked mummy when she thought daddy would be home. I wriggled against my furry teddy putting on my most appealing and cute look hoping that would make it all happen quicker. Again, for a second, I got that slightly confused look from mum. “I’m sure daddy won’t be long sweetie-pie but your nappy is certainly sagging so let’s hope he’ll be home sooner rather than later.” “Yay.” I slipped my thumb between my lips but mum saw this and immediately fed me my tasty new dummy. Mum tousled my hair and hugged me close. “Who’s a good boy then?” I looked up at her and felt like a shy two year old and smiled around my dummy. “Yes... Davey’s a good boy.” I could hear her words and under normal circumstances I would have objected, or more to the point, mum would never say such juvenile stuff to me. However, there was no denying that I liked what I heard and even the heavy wet nappy, which hung dragging even the plastic pants down a little, I hoped mummy would soon change... though I knew it wasn’t my decision. She’d change me when she was good and ready. # I squished over to the pile of nappies that I’d built up to run my toy cars around and over like I was racing them in the snowy white mountains. Whilst I crawled from one play-zone to the next my legs were pushed further apart as the soggy nappy slipped around my crotch. At one point I began to fret about something (though I’ve no idea what) and called out for mummy. She’d left the room by then and I whimpered for no apparent reason. Actually, I think I was crying because I was wet and a damp itchiness was all I could feel. “MUMMY.” “Mumm... mummy...” I was engulfed in tears. #tbc#

Thanks for the comments and you're correct, the nappy is going to be playing a very significant role in future chapters

Part 6 Normally, when I went to bed my nappy was clean and dry. This was used, and well used at that, but it didn’t feel discomforting, well not to wear at least. Often, some of the other nappies and disposables I’ve worn would bunch up and be slightly annoying until I’d gotten used to them… these were not in the least like that. These didn’t bunch at all, in fact, they felt like I was wearing a padded pair of pants, they moulded themselves to my anatomy and hugged me in a pleasant, reassuring way. Although the leg and waist gripped me firmly, it didn’t feel that tight. In fact, the soft lacy fabric seemed to caress my thighs and waist, adding a pleasant tingle I’d never experienced before. I spent the night squirming, wriggling, touching – I simply could not believe the sensations I was experiencing. When I was not in complete physical pleasure, I was smiling because it felt so good. I’d never felt better. I’d never been more positive and, the big thing was, I didn’t want to take them off. Had someone come up with a design for an everlasting nappy? I slept, woke, played, slept and giggled uncontrollably to myself but after each short nap I felt myself slipping back to my childhood where everything was wonderful. Not that it wasn’t now, or is that then? I don’t know but my nappy is full and surprise, surprise... that’s all I want to wear. I look at my bedside clock and it’s just after six a.m. yet I’m wide awake and want to play. My hectic night has reduced me to a chuckling big kid. I can see I’m physically still a, erm, well, umm, I forget but I don’t want this feeling to stop. I want to get up… er… when mummy tells me I can… ummm… no… I mean… I look around my bedroom for all my toys, Mr Teddy and other animals, my dummy… oops… my dummy? For some reason I daren’t get out of bed without mummy’s permission. There I’ve said it again “Mummy”, what the hell is going on. Oooo I’ve just sworn, even if it was in my head… mummy doesn’t like it if I say naughty words. I grip my blanket like a terrified tot wondering what mummy will do. My joyful giggling of just a few moments ago has been replaced by feelings of worry. However, my hand reaches down and I can feel my ‘special’ nappy. The feel is distinctive, its grip is unique, I do my special wriggle and I’m happy again because I am wearing my distinctive protection. Mummy comes in smiling and cheerily asks how her ‘special’ boy is doing. I’m glad she’s not angry so I stretch out my arms to greet her and she delivers a peck to my forehead as she rummages under my blanket to check. She pulls back the bedding and for the first time I see that my nappy is now completely red. “Oooo,” I say in wonder, “that’s pwitty.” At the same time I say this I can feel I’m filling it again. There’s a slight warmth but I look up at mummy and look as innocent as possible. “Is my little baby taking a wee-wee… hhhmmm… is he?” I nod as my special nappy whips away the flood and hides it in its many folds of material. I can feel it once again slightly expand to accommodate what I’ve done but it doesn’t feel in the least bit unpleasant. “Mummy.” “Yes Pumpkin.” “Where are my toys…?” Mum looks at me in a strange way. It seems she’s totting up something in her head or working out some problem. “All tidied away but now my little sweet-pea is awake he can get them all out again and play until breakfast.” “Yay…” I suddenly stop in mid yay… Toys? There is a sudden and unclear thought in my head that I don’t need toys at my age… but mummy has pulled my blanket back and is urging me out of bed and towards the cupboard. She’s patting my padded bottom and almost guiding me there, whilst she takes stock of my bulging nappy. “Your teddies and all your other favourites are in there as well sweetie.” There’s something not right about all this and for the briefest of moments I’m unsure of what I’m doing. However, mummy quickly encourages me forward and that doubt disappears as I open the door and see all my wonderful toys. “But I want you to play quietly so… pop this in until I call you for breakfast… and after that, we can get you changed for the day.” I’m confused as she slips in a dummy she’s produced from her pocket. At first I’m reluctant to take it but she has forced it in without too much effort and I’m already sucking enthusiastically on it… I do as instructed. By the side of all my toys are a stack of shelves where nappies, liners, disposable and plastic pants are kept. It’s strange that again I stop midway through what I’m doing as I’m convinced that my cupboard usually stored my real clothes but, they were nowhere to be seen. Once I looked more closely it was obvious that this was not my cupboard but one I had as a child, so, really, it was my cupboard but… Once again that brief moment of doubt passed as I reached in and checked out teddy. I look around and see that mummy’s gone so I pull out Mr Teddy and a few toys and prop myself up against the bed. I splay out my legs and am still amazed at the bright red colour of my padding. I feel such comfort as I start to play with my toys and suck intently on my dummy. There’s a big, old wind-up car I didn’t remember. I wound it up, pushed a lever and off it went at great speed. Wwweeeeeee! At the same time I let out my excited squeal I could feel my nappy being soaked once again. # I woke up from my dream absolutely convinced I’d flooded the bed but when I pulled back the blanket I was relieved that my nappy was warm, firm, blood red and had contained whatever I’d managed to dump into it during the night. I was also thankful that I wasn’t regressing as a baby and that, apart from by bulky nappy; all was back to what I knew. The dream, like most dreams I assume, felt real but I was a little worried that at my age, I appeared to enjoy being a little kid again. The fact that the nappy had absorbed everything and left me feeling completely dry was a surprise. However, even full (if the colour was anything to go by) my nappy hugged me in a most satisfying way. I’d slept the night, for the first time in many years, without plastic pants and yet my bedding was completely dry. Again I stood at the mirror and inspected the huge padding that now engulfed my groin yet it didn’t feel like it was a heavy burden. I had a slight waddle; the expansion between my legs was firm but not overly intrusive. I was just thinking whether to go down to breakfast dressed as I was (it wouldn’t have been the first time I sat at the table in just a nappy) or whether to put some shorts or jeans on over it when dad came in. “Wow.” He said from the doorway. “That looks... impressive.” I stood erect and let him view me and the disposable from every angle. He touched it and was fascinated with its firmness, yet it was also soft... “How does it feel son?” “Great.” I couldn’t think of anything else to add. “It’s the latest and newest technological development and you’re the first to experience it... I need more than... great if you don’t mind.” # Normally it’s mum who sees me first thing in the morning and we never have a conversation, if we do it’s always one way and she just accepts nods, smiles and acquiescence as my part in it. Dad wanted more so, as he felt around my crotch and padded bottom, I explained just how great it was and why. Every now and then he’d throw in a question like: “Did I sleep well?” or “Was it in anyway cumbersome?” “What about it did I like or dislike?” “Did I enjoy the fit?” “What feelings did it produce?” and lots of other stuff that I tried to answer as honestly as I could. I had to admit, I’d never worn anything like it before, nor had I actually ENJOYED wearing something like it before. Dad beamed his delight. “I’d be happy to wear this all the time.” I eagerly confessed. “Incredible.” Mum came into my bedroom at that moment and she was equally upbeat and cheerful... they nodded optimistically to each other. “Ohh Gary, not sure about the colour, it looks like someone has hacked away at his privates.” Up until mum mentioned it I didn’t think the colour was bad but now, all I could think was it looked a bloody parcel. “Mmmm okay,” dad said, “let’s get you out of that and into something cleaner and drier.” # Mum was already reaching for one of my thicker fabric nappies off the shelf. I was a bit disappointed after what I’d just experienced but I’ve learned not to argue and mum indicated I should get on the bed so she could relieve me of the red disposable and replace it with a nice thick fleecy nappy. She grabbed some pins and a pair of see thru plastic pants so I knew what I was going to be wearing for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, dad took the red discarded protection muttering something about “...orange, yes maybe orange...”but I have no idea where he then went with it. I assumed it must have gone for some kind of research. However, mum had drawn my attention back to the extra thick padding she was slipping into the material and telling me she wanted to see how much that would hold in comparison to what I’d just taken off. She used the see-thru plastic because she wanted to monitor me for the rest of the day... so no shorts or trousers either. Although being told what to do wasn’t new to me, what to wear and when to do my business, what was new was the way I suddenly felt about it all. For the first time, and I have to put it down to that fabulous ‘super disposable’ I’d come so quickly to love, I was happily compliant and interested in the future. In the past I would simply have gotten on with whatever my parents had told me to, no matter what that was. If I was uncomfortable or there was something about what I wore I didn’t like, it didn’t matter because, well, you know, “because we say so”. However, that wonderful creation that I’d just spent the night in had completely won me over, and on so many different levels. For the first time in my entire memory I thought I was part of something special. Something different and I was the one designated, the chosen one, to experience this breakthrough... scientific or otherwise. #tbc#

Thank you all for your comments I really appreciate you taking the time (and I'm glad you like the story.)

Part 5 I’m at a strange point in my life. I’m sixteen (well almost), I feel like I’m grown up yet my nappy says I’m not yet trusted to go to the toilet. I’m still at school and wear the uniform of a schoolboy but my body has developed and I no longer have the physique of a child. However, I also don’t have the pubic bush that all my friends and classmates appear to have sprouted in abundance. The lotion mum has spread on me over time has stopped that particular hairy growth. To be honest I’m not overly worried by this lack of hirsuteness ‘down there’ since mum said that a clean and hair-free groin is healthier and not prone to smelling. I take her words as gospel and “because she says so”. To be honest I have seen many naked guys online and have to admit that I prefer the shaved to the bushy and that goes for the face as well as the crotch. There are tons of conflicting emotions that grow day by day and yet, and yet… there’s also a feeling of… I don’t know how to explain it but, well, I feel… distinctive. Of course my parents have added to this response because of the way I’ve been treated all my life. I’m not even sure if it’s negative or positive. All I know, there are times when my body shakes with emotions I simply do not comprehend and my head is filled with thoughts I have no idea from where they came. I’m growing up, so I’m aware my body has changed and continues to change but, but, there is definitely something going on that my brain finds difficult to compute. It’s mixed up, perplexed, conflicting and often down right awkward, but then the next moment, I’m at peace, full of calm and unbelievably relaxed; the nappy causing me neither fear nor anger, sometimes, just utter and totally unexpected bliss. Although I often sit around wearing just a nappy when I’m at the desk in my bedroom, I’m wearing jeans at the moment just while I work. It’s not that I’m ashamed or anything just that they are a little distracting as I continually want to run my fingers over this new, soft, tantalising fabric... but I need to get my homework done. Even now, as I type this on the computer in my bedroom, a shiver has just run through my body. I sit; tapping away on the keyboard, dressed in the latest disposable, which I assume is from dad’s company and mum insisted I wear as soon I walked in from school. The thing is, at the moment, it’s doing it again… my nappy is giving me pleasure and comfort as I wriggle in its snuggly embrace. I’m beginning to realise (and not before time I suppose) that everything I wear has in some way to do with dad’s company. I’m not sure why I’m involved but I guess it’s only natural that I should somehow benefit from what they make. Still, I wish they would simply tell me rather than say “because we say so.” Under my jeans the cushioned layers of supple, velvety material slips around caressing my skin in a provocatively sensual manner, the soft new colourful textile sends desirous messages to my brain. It’s all slightly feminine in some way and yet in others, well, it doesn’t matter except... what the hell is going on? # A couple of hours later and with the drinks mum served beginning to press on my bladder, the first part of what she insists I do is imminent. I finish the homework I’m working on and move from the computer to the window and look out at the view. Nothing new, nothing has changed except, except, well, that short walk has brought me back to be fully aware of the nappy I’m wearing. I release my jeans and let them fall unaided to the floor before casually slipping out of them. At the same time, watch in complete fascination, as my disposable elegantly re-inflates and returns to the size it was originally. The materials are still gripping my groin and the wispy fabric tickles as well as caresses my skin. I watch myself in the full-length mirror, I look more colourful than usual but still like an incontinent teen. However, I’ve been given my instructions by mum so I return to look out over the back garden and concentrate as I release the pressure in my bladder. With the first spurt of pee the flimsy structure tightens a little and secures around my genitals. I try to hold back but it’s as if the material is pressing on my bladder, encouraging me to finish what I started. The sensation is just that, quite sensational. I stand looking out across the back lawn to the row of trees that surround the garden and it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time as my mind seems to join the flooded relief in my nappy. As I fill it, the pattern and colours change whilst the tightening bulk forces my legs apart a little. The flimsy fabric layers are now storing what I’ve just released and although I don’t feel wet, I can feel it expanding and becoming more solid. The fragile lattice work of alternative textiles are binding together to contain what I’ve let go and suddenly, without any warning, my bowel wants to join in the experience. I stand at the window transfixed as I fill the seat of dad’s latest development and notice that the colours change again. Where I’ve messed the colour is bright purple, where I’ve wet its bright yellow but there are other discrepancies. For one; the entire disposable is very solid and although I’m being gripped firmly, the weight is not there. However, I cannot smell anything, the contrivance has kept everything I’ve expelled well contained and that includes the stink I occasionally have to bear. Mum knocks on my bedroom door and walks in. She sees me standing at the window, legs now slightly apart and the new nappy obviously well used. “Well done Pumpkin.” She comes over and pushes a few stray hairs away from my eyes. “How does it feel?” There is certainly a different aspect to what I’m wearing though, for the moment, I am not really sure what it is. It feels unlike anything I’ve ever used before, as if it has moulded itself around everything and is giving me a pleasurable squeeze… like its congratulating me for using it. I know that’s stupid but that’s what’s going through my brain as mum inspects the thing. For some stupid reason I’m delighted that I’ve just messed and peed in my nappy and don’t feel in the least bit embarrassed as mum checks me out. She runs her hands over the bulk and its far more ‘dense’ now. The wispy material has bonded together to make a security proof seal, though the crimped filigree leg holes have given a softer edge to the tightened grip. There is a lacy, almost girlish look to the slick exterior and appears like a padded pair of panties. Even the tabs that fastened me in have blended into the surrounding fabric producing a colourful but unifying look. Mum smiles and whistles in appreciation, I just look dumbfounded. “Your father said it was special… what do you think?” I walked the few steps from the window to the mirror and am speechless; the entire look of the disposable has changed to something that looks more ‘permanent.’ I just nod. It’s no longer a soft, wispy concoction but something real and substantial. “Judging by the colours… there’s still plenty of use in it. Apparently, the disposable turns totally bright red when it’s full and needs changing. So… keep wearing it until it does. “But mum… er… I’ve… er…um… done a poo as well as wet… erm…” I started to tell her as I know she likes to keep me clean at all times. I’ve rarely worn a used nappy for more than a couple of minutes when at home, she’s that scrupulous about hygiene. “Well done love but, as it isn’t completely red yet, that means there is still plenty more absorbency in it so…” I’m a little shocked to still have to wear something I’ve messed in, despite the fact that it doesn’t actually feel like I’ve done so. I mean, well, there’s certainly some firmness to the disposable but all in all, I don’t sense it needed a change. The squishy mushiness that would normally follow me around after I messed just wasn’t there. This was one very strange and unique disposable. I peered in the mirror as mum gently ran her fingers over it and looked pretty pleased and impressed. Standing there, with mum fussing, it took me back to when I was a lot younger and she was always proud of the fact that I’d done my business. At that moment I felt like a three year-old and for the briefest of moments, the image looking back was just that, me at three. # It was getting late, so I wished mum a ‘goodnight’ and before tentatively easing myself under the covers I gave this incredible piece of clothing a final inspection. The wispy, floaty, quilted material had become firm but not immobile, there was still a bit of give to the structure and even the silky, supple texture was quite thrilling to fondle… I didn’t want to leave it alone. There was definitely something else happening that was making me regard this product in a completely different way I’d viewed everything I’d ever worn (and used) before. My fingers traced over what had once been a very insubstantial piece of incontinence-wear but now… something robust and strangely calming occupied my crotch… and my thoughts… yet I had no idea why. I tentatively slipped between the sheets wearing only the new piece of merchandise but for some reason was a bit apprehensive. Of course, over the many years wearing just a thick nappy and plastic pants to bed had become my natural sleep attire. In fact, I’d gotten used to the slippery nature of the vinyl and quite liked its silken, supple quality – I often fell asleep just stroking and enjoying the glassy material… although this was something else. Actually, that was what was different. I was enjoying wearing this new design, not only enjoying wearing it but enjoying still using it. My head was full of ridiculous thoughts as I caressed the special fabric. The soft lacy bits, together with the firmer, slicker padding, all sending wave after wave of utter delight through my system. Thoughts of pleasure, of accomplishment, of contentment… WHOA! The total sensation was making my heart and mind surge with complete gratification and my body shook as I realised that this was a very exceptional thing I was experiencing. #tbc#

Thanks, I'm pleased you're enjoying the story The nappy contains a few secrets.