Les Lea

Hi Starman They can only grow out of it if the hippotone is switched off and then they can begin to get new memories but all their old ones are gone. If the hippotone isn't turned off and remains as a sort of tinnitus it acts as a block to any new stimulus. Both Tommy and Andrew are going to be babies for a long long time... Anise might have other tests and applications of the psi+ device to come in future but first she needs to know just how far she can go with these two.

Thank you Eagle0769 for your lovely comment. I know not everyone who reads these stories will know to what I'm referring but I just wanted to nod my thanks to those who are living such and existence out on the net and letting the world know about being autistic. I am in awe of some of those brave souls. So, THANKS to them.

Hi Maly ...and thank you for that.?

Poster Boy Baby Peter’s bedroom was a tribute to what the sweet guy was all about. Above his bed was a large poster of Bizzie TM, the Fairy Baby complete with large fluffy nappy. Around the walls were equally strident posters of adverts for nappies, plastic pants and other assorted paraphernalia from both ancient and modern campaigns for such products. Black and white Staydry plastic pants and Empire Waterproof Baby Pants adverts were lined up against colourful Racing Car Diapers and Pampers ads. Every available space said that this room was for a baby, a bed-wetter and a lover of nappies, Peter Noble was all of these. Peter had been a bed-wetter all his life. Over his twenty-five years his family searched for a solution to his problem but throughout his childhood, teenage years and now into his early twenties, both found nothing to stop the nightly (and often daily) soaked nappy. The thing was, Peter had become infatuated with the advertising and messaging that various companies had used over the years. That obsession turned into an emotional and physical turn-on and that led to totally accepting his need for protection. + Around the age of seven he was found to be autistic, which the doctors at the time said explained his continued bed-wetting. He had other internal social and mental problems that made getting on with people difficult and trusting anyone almost impossible. By the age of ten he’d more or less mentally locked himself away and it was only through his searching the net and finding all these advertisements, slogans and pictures that he began to come out of his shell. Something reverberating in his brain made them not only appealing but a sort of explanation... perhaps one only he understood. The images of babies and baby products sort of struck a chord with his own identification as a little boy who needed a nappy because if he didn’t wear one he’d wet everywhere. A nappy was safety and security so therefore his best friend... closely followed by his blankie, teddy and binkie. As he got older those iconic illustrations from features and commercials on the subject made him identify with all that they offered, so found them both calming and instructive. Now, as a twenty-something, although officially an adult he preferred to replicate those styles depicted in adverts. His nappies were thick, disposables colourful, plastic pants childish and fun, clothes juvenile though ultimately wonderfully comfortable. He loved the life he’d created and surprisingly, could function quite well with that look. To begin with his parents, and even a few doctors, had tried to dissuade him from clinging to that childlike approach. They soon found that denying him access brought out a sullen and very negative Peter. He would cry, throw tantrums and stop breathing, all of which was of no benefit to letting him be himself. It took a while but eventually those who were supposed to look after him realised their mistake and supported his own personality traits. As a result, he was happier and therefore his carers were also less stressed. + He’s now online and explains his autism through photographs and posts about his life. He encourages others who are like him and has become something of a poster boy to many who see themselves and their own autism as no longer a weakness or failing... simply because he doesn’t. He’s wants to remove any shame from autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and hopes that his many followers gain some hope if they are feeling down and pride in who and what they are. He’s an absolute beacon for those who have been placed on a spectrum (that can take in any number of conditions), but are able to see how he functions well by using age regression as a coping mechanism. He answers questions honestly and openly, which of course leaves him vulnerable but, what he does is important so puts that fact above any personal abuse or negativity. His bedroom may have the look of a child’s nursery, and maybe it smells of baby powder and urine but everyone can see it’s where he’s happiest... and after all... isn’t that the point. Our Poster Boy is a champion in nappies. (With thanks to all those who post photographs, blogs and information on autism and beyond)

I hoped it might shock one or two readers. Thanks for your comment Pierry Glad you enjoyed it. I don't foresee a 2nd series but you are quite correct in your interpretation of events. The men from the ministry were anything but and forced Andrew to reveal all and then subjected him to further intense psi+ waves which left him... reduced to a full nappy.

Part 5 Since he’d arrived back home, and with his mother encouraging (blackmailing) him into wearing a nappy to help prevent accidental spillage, Tom had gone along with everything suggested. Of course at first it was a bit weird but after a while he began to see that his parents were doing what they were doing out of love and concern for his future. When then told about the Re-Start programme he had doubts as to how a psychiatrist could change his life but, on meeting the good doctor, was more than prepared to give it a go. It helped that she was beautiful, sexy and had a way with words that simply sucked him in. Unfortunately he was completely unaware (as were his parents) to just what that would mean. Doctor Thurber had induced them all into accepting a great deal but perhaps what was strange was the speed at which Tom had been influenced. Maybe it was because he was spellbound by Anise, or that his brain just dealt with things in a different way. However, there was no denying that ‘hippotone’ had lodged and affected him in such a way as to make the doctor’s sound manipulation so much easier. His mother was pleased to have her son back and whether he was twenty or two it didn’t matter, she understood the nappies were for his own good and therefore he should wear them all the time. She seemed unaffected by the fact that his mental capacity was reduced, to her it was all part of the Re-Start programme. This impression was forced home by each session with the ‘hippotone’ vibrating in her head to accept such developments as both natural and essential. Anise hadn’t bothered stripping his memory away in slow stages. Once she saw the swift effects of psi+ she knew she could push the boundary again and again. Thus, in a very short time she had reduced him to a toddler, whilst at the same time making his parents accept that this was what they expected... and wanted. However, what she was unaware of was the fact that Andrew had tumbled her game and was busy plotting some kind of retaliation. # There was something else; Tommy’s brain was different to other peoples. The incontinence should have been an indicator that he was slightly off-beam with everything. The reason Tommy succumbed to the ‘hippotone’ was because he was already wired to act like a little kid when things didn’t go as planned in his life. His parents had always known he was moody, prone to tantrums and wanted things his own way and, being the type of parents who wished for their child to be in control of his own destiny (even at a rather young age) had given in to these childish impulses without check. All those mistakes he made, the thinking he was right when he was wrong, the childish way he refused to accept things even when they were very apparent. He would shift any blame elsewhere and pretend things were just the same. He thought if he didn’t acknowledge a problem then it didn’t exist. That broke down several months ago when his landlord confronted him with the simple fact he didn’t want a tenant who stunk of piss. This was an awful blow to his self-esteem but still tried to put the blame elsewhere. Mr Patel would have none of it and more or less gave him the option of leaving under his own terms or being thrown out. The terms and conditions he’d signed when he came to the bedsit made sure that all the power had been with the landlord. Thankfully, Mr Patel had been in touch with Tom’s parents (something about losing their deposit for damage etc.) so it was fortunate his mother offered him a possible answer - being home and looked after was a better prospect than where he was. He thought the new rules were strange but, he was pissing a lot, so could hardly complain about the precautions his parents wanted to take. He accepted them, and then to his surprise, found he didn’t mind the bundle of material between his legs. It helped that his mother was doting on him and it felt easy and comfortable being at home. He was already revelling in being a kid again so, as soon as the ‘hippotone’ kicked in, well, for Tommy there was no going back. His life and existence returned to exactly as it had been when he was a tot. # With Tommy playing in the living room wearing his romper suit and thick protection Andrew guided his wife to the sofa for a chat though wasn’t sure how to start the subject. He decided to throw caution to the wind. “Sarah love,” She looked up at her husband expectantly. “You know Tom, Tommy shouldn’t be like this don’t you?” She smiled. “Of course silly, but he’ll be alright when the next part of the programme kicks in.” “Hummm, I’m not sure that’s right because...” “Don’t be silly, the doctor said he needed time and that Re-Start would help with that.” She was still smiling. “Well love, I see things differently and I think the doctor is having a laugh at our expense.” He tried to not sound too intense but despite that she caught the inflection in his voice. The serious note caught her off guard. “What on earth do you mean?” “Well, I think she’s using sound-waves to mess with our heads...” Sarah looked at her husband oddly. “I think she’s making us think this is the correct thing to do but in fact, it’s making Tommy worse.” “But that’s ridiculous. No, that’s impossible.” She pulled absently on her cardigan for comfort. “I don’t think it is but tell me this... can you hear a little tone in the back of your head?” He was close to her but knew he had to tread softly. “Yes, yes but I’ve had that for ages.” “Not really. I discovered that every time we go to Doctor Thurber’s office that tone, from a little box by her side, that noise... slips into my brain... I think it does yours and Tommy’s as well.” “You’re talking daft. It’s tinnitus that’s all. Loads of people suffer from it.” “Yes, and that’s the point. I did as well. I believed everything the doctor said but, and I know you’re not going to agree with me on this, but, after the concert, the loud music cancelled out that tone... and for the first time I could see what she was doing.” Sarah sat gobsmacked at this revelation but wriggled uncomfortably as he continued. “Since then I’ve bunged paper in my ears and watched what she does and it’s just manipulation. I’m sorry love but we’re being used... although I don’t know what for.” She looked at him for a moment perplexed at just what exactly her husband was going on about. However, it all sounded a bit far-fetched to say the least. She made a decision. “Exactly, you don’t know what for and you’re not prepared to let Tommy get better. What the hell is wrong with you?” Her outburst was not expected. “She’s our best chance at getting our son back to normal and you want to jeopardise that.” “But love...” “Don’t you ‘but love’ me. I’m not listening to your wild accusations and I think that night out with your heavy metal friends has affected your brain... for the worse.” She got up and moved over to Tommy who was looking a bit perturbed at his parents having a row. “Don’t you worry sweetie,” she cooed in his ear, “Mummy won’t let the nasty man spoil things. We’ll have you well in no time at all... the doctor said so.” # Andrew didn’t know what to do. He’d alienated his wife and had made his son cry so this was not going well. He knew from that moment on he’d have to do things himself as he couldn’t rely on Sarah to be of any help at all. In frustration he went to the hi-fi, selected his noisiest album and turned it on full blast. He was hoping that just a quick burst might make her come to her senses. Instead, he saw her approach the unit with a hammer, which she angrily used to smash the thing to pieces. She waved the hammer in her husband’s direction “NO” she shouted and stormed out of the now silent room. He was in total shock as to what had just happened and decided to act now before any further harm could be done to his family. It was time to confront Doctor Thurber. # He turned up at the doctor’s office unannounced but obviously agitated. He told the receptionist he needed to see the psychiatrist as something ‘mental’ had happened and he was afraid things might escalate without some guidance. As she was with a patient at the time he had to wait until the session was over. He sat patiently but occasionally tried to look disturbed for the receptionists benefit. He had no idea what he was going to say or do once he was in private with the doctor. Half an hour later a mother and a rather waspish girl, around fifteen years old, walked out of the office. So, whilst the mother tried to placate her ‘daughter’ the surly ‘Miss’ was having none of it. “Don’t ever bring me here again you stupid woman.” She hissed at her distraught mother. “See you in a couple of weeks Deidre.” The doctor called from the door. “In your fucking dreams lady.” And the girl flounced out the door without even looking back. Another satisfied customer Andrew thought. However, Anise gave him a strained smile and invited him in. He saw her move to her desk and remove something from the drawer. “Just give me a moment please Andrew I need to freshen up and I’ll be with you in a tick.” She took whatever she’d picked up to the bathroom he’d used in the past. She was gone only moments but in that time he had also put in, as he supposed she had, earbuds. On her return she moved over to the ‘box’ and pushed a switch and he vaguely heard the tone. “So what’s so urgent Andrew is there something wrong with young Tommy?” “Mmmm, quite bit actually. But let’s start with you turning off your little box of tricks shall we?” It wasn’t really a request but Anise looked at him in confusion. “It’s only a recorder Andrew. I need to keep track of everything said in this office for my files and to review anything if needed. You know that.” She said by way of extricating the doubt she was feeling. “No, no, no, I don’t think so. Let’s turn it off NOW.” The last word took her by surprise. She’d never been confronted like this by anyone in the family before; they were normally very placid and agreeable whenever they came for a session. “I don’t think so Andrew...” “Well perhaps you’d like to take your earplugs out.” He sat with a serious face that Anise saw was not the usual happy face she’d come to expect. Also, how did he know about the ear... “No?” He smiled for the first time. “Doctor Thurber, I think you are using sound waves to corrupt my family AND thankfully, I’ve found a way to destroy those waves.” Anise looked shocked but could see he was no longer under her control, or the psi+ or ‘hippotone’ but couldn’t understand why. And then she blew it “HOW?” she screamed. In that explosive “HOW” he had his answer. She was doing exactly as he thought and was now worried he would expose her. “Wouldn’t you like to know... but first.” He got up and made as if to confront the doctor on a more personal level. She shrunk back behind her desk. Andrew ripped the machine from the wall and walked off with it saying out loud, and for the benefit of the receptionist, that he’d repair the recorder and thanked her for such wonderful advice. “You’ve taken a load off my mind.” He smiled to the receptionist as he waved her goodbye. Anise was left shocked and trembling, this was not the way her machine worked, he was supposed to be under her control. With the machine gone she was left wondering what to do. She called her father. # The conversation between Anise and her father didn’t go as his daughter hoped, he was furious but not at the loss of the machine but that somehow the subject had been able to override the ‘hippotone’ and they needed to know how. He couldn’t present this ‘fantastic audio breakthrough’ when there was such a huge anomaly to it. Heinz Thurber was adamant, “Get the answer before doing anything else.” She had no idea how to go about this. The loss of the machine wasn’t a problem because there were others and her father had the blueprints. The problem was she knew the technics to make the psi+ wave but knowing all that hadn’t helped because Andrew had suppressed all that control. The doctor also wondered if the rest of the family had been able to overcome the influence of the ‘hippotone’ and if so, what would that outcome be. The main idea about ‘Re-Start’ was that it should have been irreversible. Once a memory had been stripped away the only way of getting anything back was to live and make new memories. That was, unless the tone was made permanent and then... you stayed a thoughtless little infant reliant on others to keep you safe and secure. Although the parents hadn’t been subjected to the psi+ wave like Tommy, the ‘tone’ they had been subjected to should have maintained its impact... so how come it had failed? She needed to find out what was happening in the family but worried that if she just turned up Andrew might do ‘something’ violent to her. Instead she thought to call Sarah and ask to meet her urgently at the office to chat about her husband’s behaviour. She was pleased that Sarah still seemed to be under the ‘hippotone’s’ control. “Oh Sarah I’m a little worried.” She began to explain to Sarah. “Andrew visited me today and was very angry... he threatened me and I was scared... I just hope you’re safe.” “Yes, of course I’m safe why wouldn’t I be?” After her own confrontation with her husband she was more than a bit worried about his state of mind. “I don’t know, it’s just he seemed unhinged and I didn’t know what to do... he was so heated I just hoped he wasn’t taking it out on his family... especially Tommy. He thinks there’s something wrong with him. Can you think why?” The doctor hoped this last question might illicit an answer that could lead to finding out how he subdued the audio signals but Sarah missed the point and became overly anxious for her son. # After the phone call Sarah was more perturbed that her husband had visited the doctor without her. What was more worrying was that he may have told Anise his weird conspiracy theory and brought an end to Tommy’s Re-Start programme. As far as she was concerned that wasn’t going to happen and she’d do anything to protect her darling boy who she was convinced looked well on the way to recovery. “Mu-my bricks,” the sweet twenty year-old baby built his pile higher. “Yes sweetheart, lovely, but I think my little bunnykins needs his nappy changed don’t you? We’ve got a little trip to go on and I want you looking your best.” # Meanwhile Andrew may have had the ‘magic box’ but had no idea what to do with it or where to take it for analysis. He was pleased that he’d more or less got a confession that the doctor was up to something but he hadn’t discovered how it was affecting his family or what could be done to reverse the machine’s influence. He actually needed more information and the only one who could supply that was the doctor. He’d have to confront her properly but knew that the law wouldn’t necessarily believe him to have her arrested, or even what she could be arrested for. He knew he was on his own so, by hook or by crook, he needed to get the answers from the woman herself. The thing was, although he had the ‘hippotone’ inducing box, he had no idea about the psi+ modulations or how they worked together to produce, well, Tommy. # Andrew saw his wife getting Tommy ready for a trip out. She’d changed his nappy, put him in a colourful onesie, pulled up his denim shorts and attached the reins so he couldn’t wander off. “Are you going out?” He queried but already knew the answer. “Yes, just off to feed the ducks in the park pond.” She tried to sound as natural as possible. “If you hold on a minute I’ll come...” “NO! You’ve done enough with our boy, torturing him and... well... no, I’ll take him on my own. You can stay here and plan more lies.” He could see the anger in her eyes and the look of fear on Tommy’s face now his parents were arguing again. “OK, OK.” He backed off knowing she needed time to calm down. Unfortunately, he hadn’t heard the phone call so was unaware the real reason for this outing. # Anise had cleared her afternoon’s appointments and sent the receptionist home so when Sarah and Tommy arrived they were just the three of them. Although Andrew had the ‘hippotone’ machine she was armed with the psi+ modulator, which reacted nicely with the already effective tinnitus tone in both their heads. A tweak here and there she was sure any control lost would be quickly regained. The doctor was pleased to see baby Tommy still wearing nappies and his childish outfit, at least that was all still in place, and Sarah was still doting and loving being a caring mummy, so that was fine. For the time being at least the psi+ could be left in waiting as all this was as she hoped it would be. However, that being the case how come Andrew was able to undermine all the programming the family had been subjected to. “So glad you could make it Sarah,” The doctor sounded concerned. “And my favourite little Tommy is looking particularly playful.” She tickled him under the chin and patted his head. Sarah beamed that the doctor looked as supportive as ever and hadn’t been prejudiced by her husband’s visit. She took up a place on the sofa whilst Tommy crawled to a pile of toys left for him to play with. “Sarah,” Anise was quickly in, “are you and Andrew having difficulties?” She swallowed because she wasn’t sure herself what had been going on between the two of them, “No, but he has been acting strange for a few days now.” “Do you know why?” She wanted her patient to confide her worries so sat next to her and held her hand reassuringly. “I really don’t know,” She thought it sounded stupid he’d been to a concert and that had changed him somehow. “Are you sure Sarah, it’s very important because he came here and angrily kicked off... even accusing me of brain-washing you and took my recorder, my recorder for heaven’s sake, which he said was evil... ruining his life or some such thing.” She said this like “How could anyone believe such shocking accusations”. Her face implored Sarah to dig deep to see if she could come up with a reason. “Well, the only thing that has been different from our usual routine is... and I know this is going to seem silly but... he went to a concert.” “A concert?” “Yes, he’s a big fan of heavy metal and one of his favourite bands was playing at the arena... so he went.” Anise nodded. Of course, a different set of sounds. She didn’t know how or why they had affected Andrew so easily but that was obviously the cause. Now all she had to do was find out the frequency the band played at... that might be more difficult than she imagined. The doctor now had an idea what the problem was and determined not to let it affect what she had going with Sarah and Tommy. That particular side of her experiment was with her psychiatry hat on, not the battlefield trial. She wanted to push this to see how far she could go. Meanwhile, secretly Anise turned on her psi+ modulator and gave a few more instructions straight into Sarah’s mesmerized brain. The bedazzled woman had no idea, or was even aware, that further manipulations were taking place deep in her psyche. # Once she’d sent them both on their way, but not before congratulating Sarah on being such a wonderful and caring mother by protecting her son, she called her father. So far the only tests they’d done were under lab conditions what they needed to do before he took it any further was to find out what frequencies could disrupt ‘hippotone’. She told him about the heavy metal concert and, despite her father being sceptical, insisted he run further tests because a battlefield would have even more noise going on. He got the message. Now she was more aware of what needed to be done Anise felt more in control. And with Sarah further programmed and little Tommy happily filling his nappy, she thought it time to regain her property... and tackle Andrew. She wondered how best to deal with what had become a major glitch but didn’t know if that was temporary or permanent or if she could reinstate the ‘hippotone’ in some way back into Andrew’s mind. She figured that despite the heavy metal band overpowering the ‘hippotone’ she thought it may well still be there, in the back of his mind, just waiting to be restructured. She’d asked her father to send over another ‘hippotone’ box and some help but in the meantime left a message with Andrew that they needed to talk – wherever and whenever he felt able to meet. She said she wanted to clear the air and let him in on exactly what Re-Start was really all about. She was sorry she couldn’t be more upfront before because he’d been correct about his suspicions. However, now she had clearance from ‘higher up’ she could let him in on the entire project. Of course, none of this was true, but she did intend on telling him everything... well of sorts. # Andrew had been surprised to receive the call from the doctor but, although peaked to know what she knew, was still very suspicious. He’d had the ‘magic box’ open but had no idea what all the little components were for so couldn’t make a judgement from that alone. Still, Anise had indicated that what was happening was part of some strategic, possibly secret government project and was interested in knowing what that was all about. Despite Sarah watching every move he made she didn’t stop him interacting with their son. In many ways she enjoyed seeing them playing together, just as it should be she thought. Tommy was so cute and lovely as he giggled and grasped for things. His childish delight in any simple accomplishment and the praise both “da-dy” and “mu-my” lavished on him made him smile and drool behind his ever-present dummy. Things between Andrew and his wife were still pretty fractured so was desperate to get that relationship back on an even keel. The past few nights he’d had to sleep in the spare room and that wasn’t how he wanted it to be. However, once he had all the facts from the doctor, he hoped that would change things... although... if all was to be explained... had she invited Sarah to the meeting? # “Sarah...” he nervously broached the subject, “have you been invited to a meeting with the doctor to sort of explain things?” Although she didn’t know about this meeting a response had been pre-programmed in her head already. “No need, she’s explained quite bit and sees you as the one to convince.” “What’s she said?” “I think Anise can explain it far better than I can but,” she said with some conviction, “I hope you’ll apologise for your behaviour.” He didn’t want to press his wife in front of Tommy and thought she was perhaps correct about the doctor explaining better than his wife could. Nevertheless, the apology would have to wait until he had all the facts. Although he still wasn’t sure what to do, two days later and Anise called him again this time telling him that she had people from the ‘government’ wanting to speak to him so they could either come to his home or he could come to the office. There was a threat there that the government wouldn’t want to be messed around so he’d better make up his mind pretty quick. “I can be there in twenty minutes.” He conceded. “Good... and bring the box back please... they don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.” “OK.” He added reluctantly wondering if he was now in trouble with the law by committing some act of espionage . He didn’t want any bother from them even if it was as a result of their shenanigans and until he knew what was going on he couldn’t make amends at home. # Andrew arrived at the office. The receptionist wasn’t there but he could hear talking in the doctor’s office. He knocked and Anise came to the door. “Hello Andrew,” She beamed her welcome, “Glad you decided to come. I’ll just warn you now that there are two men from the ministry here so don’t be alarmed. They’ve assured me you’re not in any trouble and are here to apologise to you... OK?” He passed her the ‘hippotone’. “Thank you but just leave it on the desk I don’t want you to be worried it might get switched on again.” She was saying all the right things to put him at ease but still, he wasn’t certain all this rang true but, if the ministry, whatever ministry that maybe are involved, he’d better take it seriously. “She smiled, “Are you ready?” and led him into her office. # “Hello Sarah, I wonder, if it’s not too much trouble can you come and collect Andrew?” “It’s no trouble how was he... did he apologise?” “Well love, he’s been wonderfully helpful but unfortunately, as I mentioned at our last meeting, Andrew is having a similar breakdown to little Tommy.” “Oh dear, has he...?” “Yes, I’m afraid he has...” “You did warn me that he seemed to be heading that way.” “Well, we did our best but, for the moment at least, I think you’ve got two little ones to look after now.” Sarah smiled, an idea planted in her head a few days ago meant she liked the idea of having two babies to look after. “Look, it’s going to be a lot of work but I’ll keep monitoring both their progress and I’ve organised some help for you.” “Oh Anise, that’s so thoughtful of you but it isn’t necessary...” “Nonsense Sarah, we like to look after our patients as best we can but... if you can... please bring a couple of extra nappies... Andrew will need changing as soon as you get here. Sarah put down the phone and went over to Tommy. “Well sweetie, it looks like you’re going to have a little playmate soon.” ####### end #######

Part 4 Sigmund Freud believed age regression was an unconscious defence mechanism. It was a way the ego could protect itself from trauma, stress, or anger. Retreating back to early childhood, although not common, is not unknown and has been recognised by many psychiatrists as a physical and mental escape from the world that the patient either doesn’t understand are simply cannot cope with. To family, friends and neighbours this was how Tom’s situation was explained. His parents, Andrew and Sarah, admitted they had known for some time that their son was on the edge. Now that point had been reached they would do all they could to help him through whatever troubled him. Tommy wasn’t hidden away but encouraged to behave in his juvenile way, which he had no choice in doing, and wearing his obvious bloated protection for all to see. Of course, in the home the rule of nappies and clear plastic pants remained but once out and about a little pair of stretch-denim shorts covered, but didn’t disguise, his padding. Friends wondered if he’d get over his ‘problem’ quicker if nappies and toddler paraphernalia were not up for public scrutiny. However, his parents merely said he was under constant psychological assessment, and because he was probably suffering from borderline personality disorder, had been advised for him to be a little kid whilst he felt the need. “To interfere,” they were quick to justify their approach, “might set him back even further.” Most friends and acquaintances thought Tommy’s parents were martyrs for taking on such a huge task. They simply smiled and said that they would do anything for their son. # Doctor Anise Thurber, MBBS, MSc, MRCPsych had known exactly how the ‘hippotone’ treatment would work and was pleased with the way Tommy had reacted so instantly to the thought manipulating frequency modulations. It helped that his brain held the tone in ‘tinnitus’ fashion and in so doing blocked out quite a lot of the external information that would have aided the patient’s mental growth. For the moment at least, that wasn’t what the doctor wanted as she experimented further with the ‘Re-Start’ or ‘psi+ wave’ to see if there was a suggestibility application to it. There was. Once introduced by disrupting brain patterns with a modulated frequency, the ‘hippotone’ becomes a part of that brain. It could just lay there undisturbed as a pulse of noise (like tinnitus) or could be activated further by the interference of the ‘psi+’ variant. Noises in the head are not uncommon so a new noise might not be instantly noticeable and by then it could be too late. Under subtle regressive suggestions from Doctor Thurber every bit of Tommy’s ‘redevelopment’ was guided to produce the antics of a toddler. His mother had been induced to wrap her son in a thick nappy covered with heavy plastic pants to keep his almost constant incontinence confined to the dense material. Later, the twenty year old waddled, acted and spoke like a child and constantly wanted to be free to run off and explore or play or investigate. A pair of leather toddler reins, an addition to his daily outdoor wear, was found to be an excellent solution to that problem, which kept him nearby and controlled. Throughout it all her son remained a lively restrained, if very wet, childish member of the family. # Anise was an exceptional psychiatrist but her ambitions had become more advanced than the various families she treated in her practice. With the help of her father, and the development of this new psi+ soundwave, she saw possibilities beyond her calling. She wanted the name Anise Thurber to be mentioned in the same way the likes of Sigmund Freud, Emil Kraepelin and Wilhelm Wundt are talked about for their contribution to the world of psychiatry... and beyond. Before Tommy arrived back home from his ‘troubles’, the doctor had invited Sarah and Andrew to her office to discuss their son’s difficulties. Once she was aware of the problem, and the guilt they felt for their part in his awful decision making, she was able to see a way to exploit that remorse. What needs to be made clear is this... Tommy’s parents had known nothing about Doctor Thurber until they began to seek advice online concerning a twenty year old bed-wetter. Anise had seen their query on the net and offered her professional help for free. The couple jumped at this amazing offer and once they’d been chatting for a while, it was the doctor who suggested that bringing their son back into the family home might be a good starting point for a new and exciting programme called Re-Start. So, before Tommy took up his mother’s suggestion to return to home, and over a period of several sessions, the psychiatrist invited the guilt-laden pair to her office to discuss ways in which she could help. Whilst these sessions were underway she was able to flood the office with a mild version of the ‘hippotone’, which enabled suggestions to be absorbed into the couple’s psyche. The doctor wore small, unnoticeable ear defenders in her dealings with them and was able coerce the duo into thinking they wanted their son back... whilst encouraging them in the exact way to deal with him and his problem. # Little did they know that the doctor had used her sound waves to bend the fraught couple’s wish to help their son to a much more clinical and experimental level. Tommy’s parents were so keen to help their boy that they believed completely the very convincing doctor had the answer. Every suggestion the doctor made was agreed and believed to be ‘for the best’. Their eagerness to help their son made them less guarded in exactly what was being recommended. It didn’t matter because their thoughts and actions were being manoeuvred by the doctor. In other words, she made them think they knew, agreed and even led the way on everything she was going to do to aid the recovery of their incontinent son. With him mentally being at an all time low the nappies had been the first move to get him into the frame of mind that he needed such help. It wasn’t difficult because he was wetting the bed and couldn’t deny it. As a result Sarah had proved exceptional in convincing Tom that everything they were doing was to help him over this bout of incontinence. Tough, but completely unwavering love was the way forward. Once he became used to his need for, and use of, nappies he felt he could hardly go anywhere without them. The lovely and totally understanding doctor soon became a confidante and, through their chats, able to extract and then pinpoint, various regions of Tom’s memory. She made the couple believe this was what they wanted so that when the Re-Start programme was instigated, the outcome, a grown-up child, was something both mum and dad desired. Once Tommy was subjected to Re-Start he had no option but be influenced by his family and doctor and was soon dependant on them all. However, to make sure her plan worked further waves of psi+ and the suggestion that Tommy should act like a toddler was cleverly instilled as part of the programme. With his hippocampus assaulted by the weird sound waves it meant that he was encoded to be asleep by 7.30 at night and always wake up with a damp and messy nappy twelve hours later. # Because he sucked his thumb mum decided that a dummy would be more appropriate. The doctor, seeing another opportunity thought it was a good idea and put another strand to Tommy’s new life in motion. She took her psi+ frequency modulator and, as Tommy was introduced to his new ‘dum-dum’ by Sarah, the doctor increased the reaction in the ‘hippotone’, whilst at the same time suggesting to Tommy that it was now his most favourite object. Remembering something he’d told her during his solo sessions, as the sound permeated his brain, whispered words were added to the flow. The outcome was, when he sucked on the teat, even though there wasn’t actually any involved, the taste would be cherry. The desire to suck and at the same time enjoy his favourite flavour was another thing lodged into his immature mind. At the same time the messages entering his childish thoughts were similarly encrypted to believe that once it was in only an adult could remove it, otherwise it stayed in until they did. From that moment on Tommy spent a great deal of his day nursing on the deliciously ‘flavoured’ dum-dum. It kept him happy and quiet. # Anise was pleased with her latest guinea pig. She’d been happily surprised at the ease she was able to influence the family and even more delighted at how quickly Tommy had taken to both the mind-numbing sound waves and autosuggestion. The reports she compiled on the success of the experiment, and the efficiency with which the ‘hippotone’ worked, meant her father’s company would no doubt be in line for further government grants and, which was very exciting for her, eventually to see the psi+ frequency deployed in a military environment. The idea of having a battlefield full of incontinent and suggestible toddlers was not a new concept but Anise and her father had, thanks to Tommy and others, proved how successful their tweaked invention was. Anise had thought even more grandly and was sure that once this device was deployed both she and her father would be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize... “to the persons who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between the nations and the abolition or reduction of standing armies and the formation and spreading of peace congresses”. A thought that made her shiver with excited anticipation. # Tommy had been monitored continually for nearly three months when something surprising happened. It wasn’t to Tommy but his father Andrew. Andrew, a long-time lover of heavy metal music, had managed to get tickets to an anniversary concert of his favourite rock band. His wife wasn’t a fan so didn’t go but that show, and the constant combination of two hours’ worth of powerful sound waves, shattered the agreeable (but not consented) bubble he’d been forced to live in. As power-chord after power-chord, screaming guitars and the incessant stomach assaulting thump of the driving bass line, together with the ear-splitting array of pounding drums fed into his euphoric senses, that delightful, but continuous buzz that had been lodged at the back of his head for so long, disappeared. At first he thought it was all down to the fact of reliving his youth as a committed head-banger and the exhilaration his brief but enjoyable return to live music had left him feeling pretty good about everything. The show had been brilliant. He sang, he ‘danced’ and didn’t care that a man his age had screamed his delight throughout the concert. As he would have said when a teenager “...it was fucking Ace”. Back home it was late when he returned. His wife and son were in bed but, as he looked around the house he thought something was wrong. For one thing, why were there so many toys all over the floor and so many nappies drying over the radiators? # In the morning he came down to find his son playing on the carpet pushing toys around, sucking on a dummy and dressed like a baby, his nappy on display under clear plastic pants. “Erm, why is Tom dressed like that?” He looked to his wife for explanation. She smiled, “Because he’s wetting so much.” “Oh yer, erm....” This seemed a perfectly reasonable answer but knew it wasn’t. Part of him knew his son needed to wear a nappy but another part... “But he’s twenty, shouldn’t he be over it by now?” “The doctor said we should keep him safe as part of the Re-Start programme. Has your night out effected your memory?” Sarah said with a smirk. “Oh yer, erm, sorry...” He wasn’t sure what to say next but pretended that all was now clear and she could get back to what she was doing. It was at that point, with no distant buzz in the back of his head he realised that something was happening that wasn’t in his control. He couldn’t believe his son was acting like a child, or that his wife was happy to treat him as such. “Think, think” he kept saying to himself. He needed to get a grip on... yes, that was it - Tom, Tommy had lost his job and girlfriend and had for some reason started pissing his bed. It all became so clear. That’s why he came home because, because, erm, no... but, erm, why is he a baby it can’t be because he wet his pants... can it? Things began to tumble around in his head and the circumstances that had led to this situation... Doctor Anise Thurber and her Re-Start programme. He remembered she’d explained it very simply. As Tom was suffering from incontinence it was a sure sign he was anxious. She’d been told about him losing girlfriend, job and lodgings in fairly quick succession and suggested that the ‘Re-Start’ programme was very good at helping in such stressful conditions. Basically, strip him back to childhood and help rebuild his confidence in easy stages. In this way influence could be given at the points where it had failed before and a better person would be the result. They didn’t question the term - return to childhood - thinking it was just a way for realising a time when he wasn’t stressed. It was something they all agreed would be ideal for their son to take some time to recuperate. He remembered Tom not coping very well because of all his given problems plus, no money but mainly his incontinence. They’d reached out on the net for help so when that reply from a proper doctor of psychiatry came she appeared to be the answer to their problem. That psychiatric help had been willingly given and received but why had this state of affairs happened? # For a few days after the noisy concert Andrew wasn’t sure what was what. When at home he treated his son like his wife did, as a toddler, but there were moments when he did that just didn’t make sense. It was like he was another person standing back and watching and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. All the while his son acted like a two year old not a twenty year old and his wife treated him as such, as if it was all perfectly normal. He detected a strangeness in the way neighbours reacted to them as a family and even close friends appeared to be avoiding them. It didn’t matter because both he and his wife were wrapped up in making sure everything was OK for Tommy... but Tommy, Tom was a little child now who shit his pants and sucked on a dummy all day. That can’t be looking after him now can it? Andrew’s suspicions about the doctor grew in the next family session at her city centre practice as he observed the way she fiddled with her ears before switching on a small device next to her. In earlier sessions the machine had been explained as a recorder so she could keep her records up to date when time allowed. However, on this occasion he immediately noticed the sound he’d so recently got rid of once again enter his head. Suspicious that something else was going on he quickly excused himself (the urgent need for the toilet) and began to wonder just what that little box of ‘noise’ was all about. He returned to the office but with his own ears plugged with wet toilet paper, as a result he’d managed to reduce the effects of the noise but listened intently to the suggestions the psychiatrist made. She was encouraging them to continue babying their twenty year old son and introducing elements to his daily regime that Andrew thought were more for humiliation than necessity. Sarah appeared to see no problem with these recommendations whilst he thought the doctor was pushing limits. Meanwhile, Tommy was simply sat between his parents, looking around but unaware of what was being said. His bulging nappy looked in need of a change but didn’t appear to be bothering him and the rattle Anise produced to keep him entertained seemed to do the trick as he looked fascinated at this noisy new toy. He giggled around his dum-dum as he slurped and drooled and shook this wonderful gift the nice doctor had given him. Andrew flinched as Sarah spoke to their son in baby talk and then looked back at him as if all was well. Andrew knew he had to do something, though of course, he really had no idea as to what exactly was going on. # On the way home he reviewed what had happened. He knew that the doctor started each session by pressing the gadget she kept close. He had no idea what its real purpose was or if in fact it was anything other than what she’d already explained, however, it did worry him. What he also didn’t know was just how the machine worked or what damage had already been done. The first thing he wanted to do was confront the doctor and demand answers but, he could see how his wife and son were affected so needed to be sure that any action he took would not make things worse. He wasn’t sure how he was going to go about this deceit. The only thing he knew for sure was that any future sessions, and with that machine nearby, he would have his ears firmly plugged. Although his mind was in turmoil he knew that at some point he’d been in agreement with whatever was happening, happening. He tried to remember what exactly it was they’d been trying to do for Tom. He thought that they were trying to... to do... what? No, it had escaped him, there was no doubt that Tom, Tommy, was acting like a toddler and regularly filling his nappy so, that protection at least was needed. He could see his wife keeping copious notes on how their son reacted to everything from changes to his padding, to a newly introduced toy or different food. Although he’d been changing Tommy for several months now, it came as a bit of a shock when his Sarah expected him to do the honours. However, as it came naturally he must have been used to it. He had flashes of memory where he was convinced his son needed to be kept in nappies; it was for his own good, it was the right thing to do... it had been recommended by the doctor. So, without a second thought he’d dived straight in and changed his twenty year old son who gurgled behind his dummy, which he seemed to love This was confusing, he didn’t want to do it but yet he did. He shook his head and everything seemed right but the next moment, his thoughts turned to just how wrong things had become. Damn... he needed to sort his own thoughts out first. For the time being he didn’t want Sarah to know that he believed something untoward was happening just in case she said something to the doctor. # Andrew went on the net and tried to find a bit more about Anise Thurber. The name Thurber came up and he was struck that a company called Thurber Audio Developments was at the top of the search listing. He read some of their blurb and saw a photograph of the boss - Professor Heinz Thurber – who was a leading specialist in ‘audio dynamics and its application’. He clicked on the profile of the man and found he was married and had two daughters and a son. It even had their names Anise, Janine and Maxwell. He read more about the firm and found several articles about their work in ‘subconscious application of sound as a means of delivering messages’. There was an awful lot of technical stuff that he couldn’t quite get to grips with but at least this was a start. What if Anise and maybe even her father, were using their son (via those sounds he’d been hearing) as some kind of testing platform for a new programme. Perhaps Re-Start might not only be secret but illegal? Andrew’s mind was swimming in the possibilities from what he’d discovered and, although he had no actual proof, his son and wife were not their normal selves... and that was proof enough. It was time to act but to do what? # Over the next few days Andrew did as much research as he could into the Thurber business. There was an article about Anise breaking away from the family concern to go into psychiatry. However, the fact that the Thurber Company was actually renowned for their use of sound as a means of delivering messages to the brain... various pieces of the puzzle began to fit. For one thing, he was surprised at just how easily and quickly they’d agreed to all Anise Thurber’s recommendations. Neither he nor Sarah were stupid and on reflection would have questioned everything, but no, they had blindly followed what the doctor advised and brought their son home. Andrew shook in anger and annoyance at how easily they’d been manipulated. Whatever she was doing was powerful and effective... then his mind would slip again and, seeing his son crawling around the house dressed as he was, it all just seemed the most natural thing in the world. There little boy was home, he was safe and happy... what more could a loving parent wish for their offspring? His heart would fill with joy when his sweet innocent son held out his arms and said “Da-dy” or crawled up and snuggled his “Mu-my” Tommy was such a sweet boy and just what his parents wanted... and yet. # Heinz Thurber was very pleased with the reports received from his daughter’s latest research. It proved they were on the correct lines of development and actually thought some of the results were far better than he could have hoped. His daughter really was a chip of the old block as she had mixed and modulated those clever little soundwaves for her own use. Psi+, yes he could see how her work, and the outcome so far, would be a major boost to his own advanced audio stimulus. The ‘Hippotone’ project was evolving in two areas at once and the professor knew that both would prove invaluable to the government. Anise’s success with turning her ‘patient’ to accept a juvenile state of mind was impressive and could see that would be an incredible accomplishment if it also worked on the battlefield, which, after all, was what the government was paying for. His job was to think of how to blast an entire combat zone with enough sound energy to make soldiers want to piss their pants and cry for their mummies. Of course, some might already be doing this (he’d joked to his board of directors) but in battle conditions the adrenalin of action might restrict, or even cancel out, the ability of the frequency to do its job. So far all the tests, although impressive, had been done under laboratory conditions, the next leap was the big one. This was a project he took upon himself to develop. Anise’s work would continue but that ‘mass’ problem was up to Heinz to sort out. Neither he nor his daughter was aware that at that moment, there was one guy who, purely by chance, had found a way to combat that mind changing psi+ wave. # Andrew could feel himself slip in to understanding and agreeing with what his wife and doctor were doing. Little Tommy was still wetting himself but that was expected for a boy his age and besides, he looked so cute wearing his thick nappy... However, once he realised this was happening he rushed to his IPod, slipped in his earbuds and listened at full blast to his library of heavy metal bands. It worked, driving out those congenial thoughts, and wondered if it would have the same effect on Sarah and Tom. She hated heavy metal so would be reluctant to try, besides, she was still thinking that everything they were doing was for the benefit of their son so why would she agree to listening... she certainly wouldn’t agree with his assessment of what was happening. He thought he’d try something drastic so volunteered to babysit so that she could have a night out with mates, which she hadn’t done since Tommy had returned home. She said that although she didn’t need a break from her lovely son, she appreciated the offer. However, Andrew managed to get one of her friends to invite her out to the cinema and a meal and encouraged her to accept. Reluctantly she agreed and left Andrew happily playing with their son with a pile of new toys. As soon as she left Andrew placed his earbuds in his son’s ears and played his favourite noisy, head-banging track. The twenty year old toddler shrieked in fear and tried to pull them out. Andrew tried to make him keep them in but the poor boy just screamed and shook his head. Drastic action was needed if it was to work so his daddy took him up to his bedroom and got him ready for beddy-byes. By 7.30 Little Tommy was dozing and sucking happily on his dummy. Andrew decided that to make this work he had to immobilise his son’s hands, so tied them to the bed. He then slipped in the earbuds again and pressed play. The poor boy wriggled and tried to get rid of the sound but had no escape from those pounding, ear-splitting rhythms. # Andrew could hear his son loudly crying. He tried to ignore it hoping against hope that he wasn’t actually punishing the lad but he thought he had to stay with it just to see if it could work for him. Two hours later and Tommy was still in torment and his crying had begun to cause the neighbours to take notice. They wondered if ‘that poor boy’ was suffering at the hands of a deranged family who were being swamped by such responsibility. Andrew answered the phone to hear one of those neighbours asking if “Everything was alright?” Andrew had to think quickly. “Yes, yes, poor lad’s got some kind of colic... we’re hoping it will pass now I’ve just given him some medicine. Sorry if he’s disturbed you.” Realising this was not the type of reaction he needed he quickly ran up to the boy’s room and removed the earbuds. The music was so loud he could hear it himself but Tommy had stopped crying and was looking his father in the eye... misery was etched all over his face. “Sorry champ,” Andrew started to release his hands from the bindings, “I was hoping I might...well... sort of... erm...” Once his hands were released Tommy reached out for a hug. It was obvious that he thought his father had saved him from the noise not have been the source. He clung hold of da-da and his father’s heart went out to the poor suffering mite. He’d cruelly subjected his son to a couple of hours of complete torture and for what? He hadn’t suddenly changed him into a man again but the smell rising up meant that he’d filled his nappy, so that was something that he could change. Andrew sighed at the failure of his hoped for project and commenced the clean-up. # He looked down at his teary-eyed, twenty year old son, sucking on his dummy for comfort whilst he pulled down his vinyl pants and unpinned his soiled nappy. He was fighting the anger that was building up inside him for what the doctor had reduced their son to. Andrew knew his boy wasn’t perfect but this was just a mockery of... well... everything. As he wiped the area clean he knew he would have to do something, this couldn’t go on forever. He had to find a way of getting Doctor Thurber to change his boy back and return things to the way they were. Compared to what they have to put up with now an incontinent twenty year old would be no problem at all. He lovingly wiped his son’s genitals and a shiver of guilt ran down his back – would Tommy ever get to use them for what they were designed to do... and not just fill a nappy? The guilt he had at the beginning of all this for letting his son make mistake after mistake was as of nothing compared to the guilt he felt now for, no matter how innocently, what they had done to him. “Sorry son,” he whispered and kissed the sleepy boy’s head, “I’ll make it up to you, somehow I promise.” He pulled up his son’s plastic pants to finish just as he heard the front door close announcing that his wife was home. “Sleep tight son...” He filled up, emotion taking its toll as he slipped a blanket up over Tommy who looked so peaceful now slowly sucking on his dum-dum. # “Hi love did you have a good time?” He’d managed to get his emotions in check. “The film was alright but, I, well, I just don’t feel part of the group any more.” She said with regret. “I mean, everyone’s alright but, well, there just seems to be a barrier now.” She shrugged. “Oh sorry love, that’s a shame.” He empathised and hugged his wife. “Yes, they avoid talking about Tommy. Every time I brought up how well he’s doing and how happy he is... they just look at me funny... I don’t know what’s going on but...” Andrew patted his wife’s back as if to say he understood her worries, when in fact he understood her friend’s worries a lot more. “I’ve just changed Tommy, he had a messy nappy but he seems to have settled down pretty quickly once he was in a nice clean one.” “I’ll just pop up and kiss him nighty-night.” “Before you do... can you sit down... I need to talk.” “Oh dear,” she smiled, “that sounds serious.” “It is... and you’re not going to like it.” ####

Thanks for the comment Adultinnocence There has been no implant made. This part of the story was inspired by my own tinnitus... if you're not sure what that is: Tinnitus is when you experience ringing or other noises in one or both of your ears. The noise you hear when you have tinnitus isn't caused by an external sound, and other people usually can't hear it. Tinnitus is a common problem. It affects about 15% to 20% of people, and is especially common in older adults. In the psi+ experiment it is an actual external sound but lodges in the brain just like tinnitus... no mechanics except, once it is there hiding in the hippocampus, an external frequency can disrupt or effect that tone. The entire operations is dealt by manipulation of frequency that once projected into the mind the tone (the hippotone) can be further corrupted for the exploitation of that mind. Doctor Thurber's latest tweaking, of which Tom is the recipient, has proved instantly effective, reducing him to a toddler in hours... but what else can it achieve? Hope this explanation helps and I'll just try and get rid of this noise in my head by listening to some soft relaxing music... if only that worked.?

Hi Guys As always, many thanks for your comments they are really appreciated. There is a bit more to come but might be a little while as a few of life's interruptions have, well, interrupted. Hopefully I won't keep you waiting too long ? Hugs to each and all

Part 3 My first meeting with Doctor Anise Thurber MBBS, MSc, MRCPsych was a very nervous occasion for me at least. I wanted to say something clever that would reduce the psychiatrist to the fraud I was convinced her area of medicine was. Instead, I was mortified to find she was gorgeous, welcoming, cheery, clever and way, way, WAY out of my league. “Hello Tom... you don’t mind if I call you Tom do you?” She purred professionalism and confidence. Qualities I’m almost sure I never really possessed. “You look a little nervous but let me put you at ease... everything we do together will be aimed at making you feel better... and I’m sure you’ll be completely rejuvenated by the time we finish.” She smiled a sort enigmatic but confidence-inspiring smile. The meeting took place two weeks after I returned home. Mum and dad’s rules were absolute. Dad had made that perfectly clear on that first evening when he got home as I’d nervously awaited his arrival wearing shorts with a large nappy underneath. “Welcome home Tom, I’m really glad you’ve decided to stay.” He was almost repeating mum’s words. “However, please be under no illusion, we will support you as long as you cooperate but should you, for whatever reason, decide you no longer want to... you will be out that door...” he pointed, “with no return policy.” I was taken aback at how serious and stern both my parents had become and I’m sure they must have undergone some kind of ‘change’ in the few months I’d been away. However, dad is a big man, not fat but taller than both me and mum and has kept himself relatively in shape all his life. He even runs for fun can you believe? So, dad is imposing but not threatening... although I wasn’t sure if that’s how I felt at that moment. “Your mother tells me that she’s put you back in nappies because you’re still having trouble coping with your pee... correct?” “Yer, I wanted to talk to you about that...” I interrupted desperate for some support. “There’s nothing to talk about Tom, whilst you mother thinks you need them, that’s what you’ll wear and without any attitude or argument.” Dad always was a ‘no nonsense’ type of guy but this time he seemed determined draw a line that I shouldn’t cross. He could see my hopeful expectations fall and then as if to hammer home the point. “Don’t give us any reason to turn our backs on you... we want you here, we think we can help but you need to know that if you don’t want that help then...” and he pointed to the door again. I hadn’t seen dad for a few months and had expected our first conversation would have been different. However, I realised that things were different now as I could feel the intensity of his words. It was weird because it felt like it had when a little kid and having it explained why I shouldn’t do something - serious but tender. I nodded. “Great son, we’re so happy to have you back.” There was that tenderness again. # Over the next week or so my sleep patterns didn’t get any better, stupid thoughts, most concerning mum and how long it would take her to bake a million cakes or fold a million nappies (don’t ask why a million because I have no idea) and each morning I woke up to an extremely soaked, well-padded nappy. Mum was very understanding but insisted once I’d got up and cleaned myself I was returned to wearing a nappy around the house. As it was I didn’t feel like I wanted to stray very far, despite mum saying I should get out and enjoy the nice weather we were having. I mainly stayed in the back garden or just moped around the house. Neither of my parents insisted I found a job, which I thought was a bit disconcerting, as if they didn’t think I was capable any longer. Well that’s what went through my mind. However, I lost the last job because of being constantly tired and despite having the comforts of home, sleep was still evading me in preference for these stupid thoughts. I mean, I did look for work but so much was for the ‘hospitality’ industry and I really wasn’t a night person, social, or keen on mixing with people who were out having fun when I was working. Oddly, the local Tyre & Exhaust Company were hiring but I got it into my head that the bosses of these places got together and had a blacklist of those who they found incompetent or rubbish at their jobs. I dreaded the thought that they might be having a great laugh discussing my pissy pants even though they’d never seen me in such a state. Yes, that was another daft thing I dreamt about... amazing what goes on in a head like mine. In the end, as I was under no pressure to find work immediately, I relaxed a bit into an easy going regime where mum and dad were in fact my boss and I just did as they directed. They both insisted that I wear clear plastic pants over the nappy so they could keep an eye on my wetting. As it was I had several ‘accidents’ during the day if I dozed off for even a few minutes. It was embarrassing but they explained that they were keeping notes on how often I needed a change and various other aspects of my day to day care for Doctor Thurber. I was dreading meeting her because I was under the impression, me being a great man of immense IQ, that all psychiatrists talked mumbo jumbo. (Ha-ha! - I could hear Nelson Muntz make his signature mocking gesture) Despite my doubts mum was keen for me to learn to change my own nappy and the first few days were like being back at school learning the basics. However, I did nearly master the folds and pinning, also the correct width and thickness of adding soaker pads and sticking it all together. That, despite thinking I could do it with ease, was actually more difficult than it appeared when she did it. Mum explained that it’s always easier for someone else to do it as two hands were better than one (if you do it yourself the other hand is always trying to keep the entire thing in position). She did concede that if I was in any difficulty, to forget about being twenty, but ask for help from either dad or her and they’d be only too happy to lend a hand. Which as they saw how frustrated I got when the nappy kept slipping down, they did more often than not. The problem I had was that after every bad night’s sleep I woke up wet. Unfortunately, as I say, that had also transferred to even when I just dozed off for a little while. I’d wake up on the sofa to find a lukewarm saturated nappy. I suppose when I was working at the tyre depot because I was busy I didn’t get time to drop off even for a minute, so there my pants remained dry. However, now at home there were times during the day when I could barely keep my eyes open and despite all attempts at doing otherwise, slip into a peaceful doze without knowing I was doing so. Mum was always around so I couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened and in the end I simply accepted the fact I was incontinent... my clear vinyl pants exhibiting the evidence. Dad said that was the first step, knowing I had the problem and what it was. Mum was of the opinion that nappies had helped to overcome my self-denial and that from now on I’d be more accepting of them. I hadn’t realised I’d been fighting against wearing them, but mum said she could see the resentment in my eyes, even if I didn’t say anything. Perhaps now, she hoped, I’d realise just how useful and needed they were and we could then begin the next step. I didn’t know there was a next step until I was booked in to see Doctor Thurber. # As I’ve mentioned, she was one classy lady... and smelled wonderful. I mean, Debbie my ex always smelled nice but the doctor was on a different level all together. I was intoxicated by her fragrance the moment I entered the office and her dreamy, interested and softly spoken voice soothed my initial scepticism. I was like putty in her hands when she touched my hand as we shook a welcome and couldn’t avert my gaze from her sparkling green eyes. Of course, I hadn’t wanted to meet the doctor or hear all about her ‘Re-Start’ programme because I was wearing a nappy 24/7. I’d begged mum and dad to let me wear normal underwear, which had not appeared in my drawers since I’d arrived back home, but they just said a firm “No”. “The nappy is there for yours and everyone else’s safety.” They would constantly remind me. I mean, I’d put up with the rule whilst in the house, and even on the odd occasion I’d ventured out with them, but I didn’t see why I had to when visiting the doctor. “Sweetheart,” mum would say. “Don’t spoil things by arguing. We said at the beginning that we know what’s best for you and...” she pointed to my well packed nappy and plastic pants, “you haven’t had any embarrassing stains or had that overpowering aroma of pee about you since you’ve let us decide how you dress.” “Yes but...” “No buts love, not now and certainly not in front of Doctor Thurber. This is all part of retraining you... to make life better and eventually for you to make wiser decisions.” The thing was, I had got used to the nappy and mum was correct it had coped well with my leakage but, I was going to meet a professional and I didn’t want her to think of me as an incontinent little kid. The fact she already knew that didn’t click with me at all. I still saw myself in other people’s eyes as the same twenty year-old that made his own decisions. When I met her I was completely bowled over and oddly enough immediately soaked my nappy. And that was without falling asleep so mum had been correct again. # It was difficult listening and occasionally talking to this sophisticated and very desirable woman, whilst I could feel a tepid glow in my pants and an erection held down by the many folds of material. To say she sparkled as she talked would not be an understatement, and the fact it was just me and her, mum was left in the waiting room, made me try to impress her as much as I could. My twenty year old machismo thinking it would work on this lady. I flirted a little and she smiled. I tried to flower my replies with praise for her beauty... she smiled some more. I thought I was in with a chance when she patted my padding and asked how long had I been sitting in a wet nappy. She called mum in and asked her to change me before we went any further. “Now Tom, you mustn’t worry, these things happen but it can’t be pleasant sitting around in a soaked diaper (Diaper?).” She said as she handed me over to mum. I’d never felt so ashamed in my life. Surprisingly, I didn’t hold her responsible for my humiliation; that was all down to me. I silently accompanied mum into a little side room where she got me to lie out and proceeded to change me like I was a two year old - so much for any thoughts of being a desirable and enigmatic twenty year old. I returned to the office drier and with a well-padded nappy under my trousers. I couldn’t disguise that fact so the rest of the conversation I wasn’t as full of myself as I had been. Doctor Thurber, Anise, was still sparkling and extremely understanding. She put my problem in perspective quoting the fact that I had ‘an under-developed urinary tract’ which appeared to have flared up again... so I shouldn’t be ashamed on that account as it was a perfectly normal reaction to a stressful situation. It felt more reassuring that she didn’t think of me as a stupid little pants-wetting kid but someone with a real medical anomaly. Because of that, I found it easy to talk when asked about my life, my ex, my last job and a host of other things. In the background was a tone, I’m not sure whether it was part of the air conditioning or something else but there was a certain noise as she spoke. # Despite the awful start to our session, she put me at ease. As she spoke I could feel my replies were less guarded and more honest. I felt like I didn’t want to deny this wonderful woman anything about me. I poured my heart out and she patted my hand when I got emotional. I’d never been like that before. Even after Debbie had dumped me I didn’t feel this emotional but Anise drew everything out of me. So much so that I felt clear of any burden that was potentially holding me down. We pondered the past as she asked about my childhood. Where was I happy and did I enjoy school? There was quite a bit of delving into that area but again, couldn’t hold back I felt free to tell her everything. I even explained that it was on a trip to the seaside when about four or five (another favourite memory) and had my first cherry ripple ice cream cone. From that moment I’d prefer that flavour above anything else. Mum used to get tubs of the stuff when I lived at home and I’d go through it with absolutely no compunction. It was terrific. Such a silly little detail but I wanted to share it with this wonderful woman. My past was both “Emotional Baggage” and “Emotional Comfort” well, that’s what the she called it and apparently I had been carrying around a great deal of the ‘negative baggage’ since I was a kid. Anise was honest, part of the problem was down to the way my parents had let me lead my life. At times they let me make disastrous decisions, which only led to more weight being piled on. She said it was absolutely brilliant that they were open and accepting of their own faults, which contributed to my problems. Thankfully though, both were determined to help fix those mistakes. “Not all parents are able to accept their part in their child’s erroneous development.” Anise had her hand on mine. “You’re lucky to have parents who want to help... and... you should be proud of yourself for realising you also need help. Again, there is a lot of self-denial in the world and it takes exceptional courage to realise that fact and then do something to put it right.” That ‘noise’ continued and I wondered if the doctor could hear it or was it just in my head because at times it seemed quite loud. She carried on down this road of praising me and complementing my parents on doing what we were doing. I began to think how lucky I was to have this opportunity to see someone like Doctor Thurber who I thought knew me inside out. I felt relieved I had no secrets and loved that I was being allowed to start again – “Re-Start”. # When we’d finished, and it had been a long and intense session, on the way home I can honestly say I’d never felt happier. A weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying had been lifted and, even the thick nappy noticeably bulging out my trousers was a positive to my overall demeanour. Doctor Thurber had, without so much as saying so, convinced me that a nappy was what I needed and shouldn’t be ashamed to wear. Proud also that I had parents who cared and now I was relieved of all my grown-up baggage, I could and should be happy to start again. I was excited and keen to get started – ‘Re-Start’ It wasn’t a long journey home but that weird tone I’d noticed in the doctor’s office somehow I could still hear. In fact, for the rest of the day it stayed humming in my mind and even when I was falling into bed at 7.30pm (I wanted an early night I was completely exhausted) it filled my head. Mercifully that was different from the usual silly thoughts that occupied my nights. How many stars are there...? Oh I can’t be bothered. Mum came and helped me get ready. I was so tired she undressed me and changed what she’d put me in at the doctors to a night time nappy. This was much thicker than I’d worn before, whilst the plastic pants seemed sturdier than the others and gripped my legs tightly. “There you go... all nicely sorted... and well-protected... just in case. You look really tired sweetie.” She tucked me in and stroked my head like she had when I was a kid, it was so nice. “Now sweetheart, you’ve had a pretty eventful day so just relax. You know mummy and daddy are nearby so you don’t need to worry about anything.” She pushed teddy into my arms. “Sleep well.” “Mummy an, ummmm, da...” She kissed me, turned out the light and closed the door. I’d never felt so safe or loved and snuggled down in my soft welcoming bed. That tone was still there but it had gotten quieter and now seemed to be lulling me into a relaxed state - it was pleasant, it made me smile then I quickly dropped into a deep and uninterrupted sleep. # Re-Start was the result of work carried out by pioneering firm Thurber Audio Developments (TAD) run by Heinz Thurber, Anise’s father. His company had been given a government contract to come up with a device which, by using different sound frequencies could disrupt an enemy’s ability to fight. Their main hope was for some kind of sound-ray that could be aimed and would interfere or disable any kind of electrical or mechanical weapon. TAD were still working on that concept but a by-product of that research was a modulated psi+ frequency that invaded the hippocampus, located in the brain's temporal lobe, with the ability to remove memories. This new advance (psi+) was not yet out in the public domain but undergoing a series of specialist trials. Anise had been able to convince her father that his discovery could possibly be a boon in the psychiatric and psychological field of research. The varying ‘hippotone’ is a mixture of several different frequencies, which can slowly strip away memory layer by layer, basically mentally taking the subject back in time. Their bodies remain the same but thoughts and actions are diminished. Tom was an ideal candidate for the trial. He had parents who were desperate for him to start again and he himself was already becoming dependent on nappies for his chronic incontinence. Once he’d been convinced to accept psychiatric help and at the same time persuaded of the continuing need for protection, Anise in conjunction with his parents were able to put these ‘augmented soundwaves’ to the test from a compliant, if unwitting, participant. Once the ‘hippotone’ was installed in the brain, like background tinnitus, the intensity of the frequency, enabled memories to be erased slowly or quickly. The control of the frequency could be done from anywhere once the psi+ variant had been established in the brain. After the desired level of memory loss had been reached the tone was either turned off, and from that point new memories could begin or left in ‘tinnitus mode’ which prevented any advancement from that given point. The subject is monitored for any departures or glitches in the programme. So far, of the one hundred and forty two test subjects, only the first twenty three suffered any sort of breakdown. The tweaked and vastly improved new ‘hippotone’ was able to modulate the frequency to a far superior level of precision so memory could be saved and not completely erased as was the unfortunate case with those first few pioneering participants. Meanwhile, the tests undertaken since the initial trials indicate a credible development that may have applications both on the field of battle as well as in the battle for the mind. As a result, it was decided that Tom shouldn’t lose all of his motor skills or his complete memory. However, because he had told his mother he wasn’t a two year old when he first came home, and the fact she thought he looked so cute in nappies, like he did when a toddler, they would, for the time being at least, attempt to keep such skills and speech to those of a two year-old. The ‘hippotone’ was set and the outcome... # Tommy woke up and mummy was standing over his bed smiling. He was still half asleep and had teddy hugged close whilst sucking on his thumb. Drool was dribbling everywhere. As he came too mummy told him he’d had a lovely long sleep but now it was time to get up and come down for brekkie. “Morning sweetheart,” she gently pulled his thumb from his lips, “I’ll get you a nice dummy. No I’ll tell you what... later we’ll go shopping for a new dummy, eh?” She said in an excited and encouraging voice. He wriggled himself awake, heard the crinkle of the plastic bedsheet and felt the weight of a full night time nappy. “Mummy,” he held out his arms for a reassuring hug. He was confused but didn’t know what about... something’s changed and he wasn’t sure what. Why was there a strange noise in his head? He looked at mummy to see if she knew but she just smiled. “Don’t worry Tommy sweetie, we’ll get you ready after breakfast, daddies waiting.” She pulled away his soft blanket and helped him sit up, whilst at the same time examining his sodden protection. For Tommy that tone had changed slightly but, sitting on the edge of the bed, he knew mummy would take care of him. Feeling like he could manage on his own he hopped from the bed and, clutching teddy close to his chest, followed, waddling in that full nappy, down to the kitchen. “Daddy.” He cheerfully cried when he saw him sat at the table. “How’s my little explorer then... did he sleep well, huh?” He ruffled his son’s hair as he sat next to him. “I’ve cut your toast into soldiers and mummy has your egg so...” “Fanks da-dy, fanks mum-my.” “That’s alright sweety-pie... you’re safe with us and we’re going to take special care of you.” Mum cut the top of his boiled egg and triumphantly he dug in a soldier. The yellow egg yolk dribbled down the egg cup but Tommy just giggled and squelched as he wriggled in happiness. Dad smiled and ruffled his hair again. “Now you’re back... we can start again and this time our little boy is going to be better in every way... but... there’s no rush.” ####

Part 2 “New rules?” I queried. “Yes love, it’s fairly obvious,” she sniffed the air and the clothes I was wearing “that you are still having a few urinary problems... am I right?” She knew she was but I suppose just wanted me to acknowledge the fact. “Ermmm, yes I s’pose so but....” “That’s alright love, I understand that with losing your girlfriend and job then there are bound to be various stresses and strains.” She smiled her understanding. “I think so but...” “So, before we do anything else. Get out of those smelly clothes, take a long hot bath... and scrub everywhere before you do anything else.” “But...” “Oh yes, and that’s another thing, no more buts just do as I ask and then we can start as we mean to go on.” With that she waited until I’d nervously stripped and then, holding my clothes at arm’s length said, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to check on you. Be thorough sweetheart, eh?” She then left me to take a bath and soak away my pissy stink. # I hadn’t realised the smell of urine stuck around or was that obvious despite having being kicked out of my lodgings for the same reason. I wonder if my work colleagues had noticed and that became a damning factor in my hasty departure. However, I just never expected mum to make such a comment. Well, to be honest... I just didn’t think did I? I sat in the bath quite enjoying a bit of a soak and inspected my body. It looked a bit red around the top of my thighs, and had felt a bit of itching under my pubes, so was glad to have this opportunity to... “Right love,” mum burst in unannounced and looked down at me. “I can see you already have a bit of an infection with wearing wet and smelly clothes and not cleaning yourself scrupulously... we’ll change that now.” “What do you mean, I mean, MUUMMM, I’m naked and in the bath can’t I have any privacy?” “No love you can’t because I don’t think you’re capable of looking after yourself properly and, as I’m your mother, it’s up to me to make sure you are cared for correctly.” “But mum I’m twenty...” However, mum interrupted. “Yes twenty and have what amounts to a nappy rash, so, first thing, let’s lose that mass of hair because that’s a breeding ground for disease.” “MUM, I don’t want to shave my...” “I’m not asking you to... I plan on doing it to make sure it’s done correctly. You just lie back and enjoy the suds.” She then revealed a pair of clippers, a razor and some shaving soap under a towel. “C’mon, let’s get this over with and then we can sort the rest out.” “MUM I AM NOT A LITTLE KID.” “Well son, and don’t raise your voice to me, look at it this way, we either do it my way, which is the correct way, or, and this is up to you, you can get up and leave right now.” Dramatically she stood up and showed me the door. “You have the count to ten to make your decision. Go or stay but if you stay it’s under my rules.” “Mum this is...” “One, two, three...” I’d never seen mum like this before and in all honesty, though I wanted to exert my independence there was a problem... I had nowhere to go and no money. “Please mum this isn’t fair I only...” “...four, five, six, seven...” “Okay, okay I give in. Do what you want but I’m not happy about this... it’s like you’re blackmailing me.” “Well sweetheart that’s because I am. I want you back but you’ve made quite a mess of your life one way or another and I think you need the love and protection only a mother can give. So, from now on you don’t argue and respect that I’m doing this for your own good.” # Although my pubic area is a curly forest the rest of me isn’t particularly hairy. I was quite proud of that dark bush as it made me feel grown up compared to the rest of my body which was still fairly soft and, to be honest, lacked any real definition. Since school I haven’t changed much and of course, couldn’t be bothered with all that exercising business but remained slim. However, as Debbie once said, a high wind and I’d blow away. Mum was very focused and despite my misgivings and nervousness she was incredibly capable. I don’t know where her shaving skills came from but thankfully not a nick or scratch appeared on my skin. Once my pubes had been cut away mum had been right about the rash. There were some ugly red marks and the entire area looked quite raw, no wonder I’d been scratching down there for a while. She just shook her head in disappointment and then led me back to my bedroom. In the time I’d been in the bath mum had been to work and put a new waterproof sheet over the mattress. I used to have one as a kid but got rid of it a few years ago... now, even if it wasn’t the original, it was back. I could have, perhaps I should have, said something but things had happened so quickly my head was still catching up. “Alrighty,” this didn’t sound like mum, “let’s get some cream on that, just lie out for the moment love.” Despite the slight shock of the bedding change I still wanted to have some independence. “Mum, I can rub in some cream myself you don’t have to...” “Be quiet Tom,” she sounded annoyed, “there are probably a lot of things you think you can do but that you can’t, won’t or don’t do... so leave it to me to make sure it’s done properly.” She was adamant that I just lay back and let her administer the cream. Reluctantly I eased myself onto the plastic surface. I suppose because I was still warm from getting out of the bath, it was a bit of a shock to sit down on the cool plastic. I let out an automatic squeak of surprise. “Ya big baby,” mum smiled as she waited until I got comfy. She took her time and was very thorough coating every nook and cranny and I just had to lay there and grumpily clear my throat. I wasn’t going to say anything but wanted her to know I wasn’t happy. I was a little bit angry, the way she’d treated and spoken to me but she did a fantastic job and the applied cream seemed to have an instant soothing effect. “There that’s better.” Seemingly genuinely pleased with her work she then reached for a canister of talc and shook that all over the area and gently patted it in. “Now you smell a lot nicer,” she quipped and tickled my naked tummy. “Mummmm, stop it I’m not a two year old.” She gave me a strange look and reached for what I thought were a pile of sheets for the bed but in fact was a square of terry fabric. “Well of course not love but I think a nappy is what you need for the foreseeable future... I can’t have you leaving little puddles around the house now can I?” “Mum you cannot be serious.” I’d heard these words before but couldn’t remember where. “I’m twenty for fuck sake...” The slap to my bare thigh was quick and surprising... and stopped me dead in my tracks. “That’s enough Thomas Henry Chandler.” She saw the look of shock on my face and continued. “There will be no more arguments and certainly no more foul language. I’ve watched you make mistake after mistake and wrong judgement after wrong judgement... well it stops now and it stops with this.” She held up the nappy and shook it in my front of my face. “YOU,” she emphasised the word, “only get to stay if you do precisely what you are told. Do I make myself clear? There will be no ‘thinking for yourself’ because you are a disaster at it. So, I’ll tell you once more and then it’s, well, it’s up to you... do as I say or GET OUT.” I was shocked at mum’s outburst; it wasn’t like her to even raise her voice but the protest I had building up had to be squelched down because inside I knew she was right. # I’d left school, despite my parent’s disapproval, with no qualifications because I thought I didn’t need them I’d be OK. My girlfriend had told me straight not to follow her because she didn’t feel the same way about me as I did about her but took no notice. Even when I knew I was wetting the bed in the bedsit I tried to deny it to myself and took no precautions. Mum was right I was a walking disaster but still... I’m twenty... and can think for myself. Except, with no job, no money and no prospects I should be grateful mum was happy to take me back. She could see all this going on in my head without a word being said. She knew I was a mess and that perhaps now I realised it too. Whilst this thing, like the counting to a million, was bouncing around in my head, she’d folded the terry square and had it ready. Reluctantly I lifted up so she could slide it under my butt. “Good, good,” she purred in soft tones, “just relax and let mummy sort things out and then we’ll go down and have something to eat, eh?” I wasn’t happy, I was even less happy when she’d finished pinning the thing on and then flapped out a pair of see-thru plastic pants. I held back my complaint as she fed my feet into the leg holes and shuffled it up to cover the white fabric. It was a very strange sensation because although I wanted to shout my disapproval and refuse to play along, I was shocked by the disaster I’d become - a piss factory. “There,” she said with some satisfaction, “my little boy is all cleaned up, tidy and more importantly... safe.” I part knew she was only joking but at that moment it didn’t feel that way and I began to worry that I’d made a big mistake in returning. I was left laid out and gobsmacked. What the hell was happening and what could I do to change things. However, first things first I had to accept this, this, whatever it was. “Mum, do I have any other clothes?” “Well, all your old clothes have gone, as you can see we cleaned up your room a little, but when I knew you were coming home I found a few new bits and bobs... they’re in your drawer. See you downstairs sweetheart... glad to have you home.” She said that last bit as if she meant it and that smile was genuine but I wasn’t too sure about all... this. I smoothed the plastic pants down and the nappy felt enormous, however, it did fit snugly to my slim frame so could have been a lot worse. I looked in my top drawer and there were a couple of colourful t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I searched in the other drawers and wardrobe to find nothing else. So, mum had ordained what I was to wear. I sighed inwardly, this was a mistake but I had no way of changing my circumstances... not for the moment anyway. # After we’d eaten mum parked me in front of the TV and got on with what else she had to do. One of which was make up my bed but I didn’t offer to help as I was still feeling a bit irritated about everything that had happened so far. I just watched some afternoon shows but was so tired dropped off and dozed on the couch. In all this I’d completely forgotten about dad. I mean, we got on okay when I lived here before but I was a bit nervous of our meeting when he came home from work. Dad is the head of purchasing for a large building contractor. In fact he’s one of the directors and, although educationally I never amounted to much, he’d offered me a job once at his firm. I was hopeless. Well, not quite hopeless but because dad was on the board of directors I didn’t think I’d have to try too hard. I was sacked after a week and dad was none too pleased. However, when I moved out and got the job with the tyre company, he wished me well and hoped it was what I wanted. I think, over the years, both mum and dad, because of their liberal leanings, had sat back and let me make my own decisions hoping I’d learn from them. When I left, I certainly thought I was in charge of my life but it had folded pretty quickly. Now, when dad came in, I’d be sitting in a t-shirt and shorts and I didn’t want him to know I had a nappy on underneath. That was something else, would dad be angry with the way mum had dressed me or what? I mean surely he couldn’t be happy with his twenty year old son being returned to wearing a nappy, would he? I woke up with all this going on in my head and feeling pretty creepy and confused. “Oh shit...” # Yep, my nappy was soaked and mum was standing by my side holding out her hand. “C’mon sweetheart, don’t worry, just follow me and we’ll get you changed, eh?” I sighed. This was not boding well. Walking in a soaked nappy was awkward and I toddled up the stairs to my room. Mum had made up my bed but there was no sign of the expected old football duvet cover. In place were fresh pink and blue sheets and fuzzy blankets. The chest of drawers held a pile of nappies and various powders and as I sat down on the bed, the crinkle reminded me that the plastic sheet was going to accompany me to sleep every night. “Just wait there a moment love.” She bent down and pulled a padded child’s baby mat from under the bed and placed it on top of the clean bedding. “OK love, just lie out and let me sort you out.” To be honest I had no words, I was just too ashamed of wetting myself whilst insisting I was a grown man of twenty. Oh yes, that was something else I’d rather forget, my twentieth birthday. One birthday card from mum and dad and the feeling of uselessness because Debbie had just broken up with me, I was certainly a bona fide success. Sitting in my bedsit, drinking beer, watching ‘soaps’ and pretending it didn’t worry me as I was sure to find a new girl soon, was a new low point. When I think about it... yes it was around then that I started wetting the bed again. “Let’s get those shorts off first, eh? Not sure they were a good idea just yet... perhaps just a nappy whilst you’re in the house, eh?” Not sure if she was actually talking to me or just making mental notes but I could offer no protest as she pulled them off, checked they were still dry, folded them up and pulled down my plastic pants. “Now be a good boy whilst I get you changed.” # I could feel my anxiety growing as mum delicately wiped me clean and prepared a new nappy, this time with an extra thick soaker-pad down the middle. She could see me glowing red from both anger and shame but continued with her gentle ministrations, whilst telling me not to worry as everything’s okay and taken care of. She couldn’t have been more reassuring and tender and if I wasn’t so irritably confused I might have liked the concern she was showing. For a brief moment my brain went back to thinking silly thoughts only this time - what was the chemical symbol for piss? I mean, it must have one or is everyone’s different? I tried to distract myself from what she was doing and what I was thinking. The bedding looked a bit girly but that was only because the red football duvet cover had been replaced by much gentler colours and it looked like rather nice quality sheets and blankets. The posters had gone and the bare walls needed something to bring them to life, to make the place more liveable. “Yes, it needs something,” it was as if she was reading my mind. “We’ll get a few items a bit more appropriate once you’ve settled in... it does look a bit barren doesn’t it?” The bedside light was shaped like a yellow gemstone, which I knew, because my girlfriend, sorry, ex-girlfriend used to have one, emitted a lovely soft light which was very relaxing. However, my eyes kept being drawn back to the piles of nappies left out on the dresser. There was even a small pile of plastic pants. I mean, why were they on show, there was tons of space to put them away? I wanted to say something, I was desperate to demonstrate I wouldn’t stand for this but she pulled up my plastic pants and said “All done” and I was actually relieved - a wet nappy is not something I’d encourage. # This had been a very strange introduction to my return home. Although nothing had dramatically changed, it seemed everything regarding me had. As she patted the air out from the plastic pants and checked the fabric was all contained I asked the question. “Mum, why are you doing this?” “Well sweetheart it’s simple. Your father and I feel we made some mistakes in how we brought you up and in so doing led you to believe that you could get through life simply by continuing with a ‘don’t care, it’ll work out’ attitude. We now know we were wrong.” I looked at her as if for the first time and suddenly realised my parents thought me a failure. I hadn’t got that impression in the past but now, I could see what they saw - I was a failure. “Look love, we desperately hoped that by leaving home you would make a success of what you’d decided.” She then shrugged and in that shrug I saw for the first time that every decision I’d ever made had been yet another disappointment to my parents. She innocently stroked my padding and I was full of strange emotions. Since I was a teen I’d more or less decided on my own way to live. I wasn’t a problem child or anything; just that for a lot of school I couldn’t be bothered. I took the easy option or better still no option at all. I didn’t concern myself with others or what they were doing. Ambition was not in my vocabulary when it was at the forefront of the rest of my sixteen year old mate’s minds whilst sitting exams. Not for me, I flunked the lot because I’d talked myself into thinking them unimportant and a distraction from enjoying myself. Not that I enjoyed myself any better than my mates, I just thought I was being the clever one. Whilst this was running through my mind and mum soothingly stroking my padding she continued. “We hoped you’d prove us wrong and that we’d see you take up challenges, realise mistakes and frankly, grow up.” I looked at her a bit open-mouthed and stunned. “Love, we wanted only what’s best for you and I think we failed. We gave you too much freedom too soon, which in retrospect you weren’t able to handle. But, you’re here now and we don’t intend to make the same mistakes again... and are equally determined that neither will you.” “But why all this?” I indicated the nappies that dominated the room and now bedecked my groin. “Well love answer me this... why did you get thrown out of your bedsit?” ‘Thrown out’ was perhaps an over statement but I couldn’t quibble. “Erm, I lost my job and couldn’t pay?” I said defiantly even though I knew it was only one of the reasons. “You do know that you put our names down as referees when you signed the guarantee don’t you? So, Mr Singh has already told us why.” “But...” “You still have problems with incontinence and it appears to be getting worse... in fact proving it just now by leaking whilst watching TV.” She was almost challenged me to deny it. “When this happened when you were younger a nappy and a pair of stout rubber pants were an instant solution. Nothing has changed in that department; they are still the most effective and easy way to contain any such seepage.” I was lost for words because I couldn’t defend against that since it was true but I still wriggled angrily, pouted and shrugged like a little kid - the entire time feeling the huge padding between my legs and the soft rustling sound of the slippery vinyl. “Tom sweetheart, you are not ready to be that big independent boy you wish you were, so we’re taking away the things you think make you one and basically starting again. Now, I know this isn’t what you expected, and know you think it’s all a bit extreme but,” she shook her head, “this is how we’ve decided we’re going to work through your problem.” “But mum, a nappy? I mean this is stupid I’m too old to wear a damn nappy.” I suddenly held my tongue wondering if ‘damn’ was regarded as foul language but she didn’t react. “Look love a nappy is needed. We want you with us in this new assessment and, as you can’t guarantee you won’t wet your pants, or at night won’t wet the bed... and... and ...” She seemed a bit confused herself. “To be honest with you Tommy... I’m wondering why you didn’t take some kind of precaution yourself when the problem returned?” Mum had hit the nail on the head. Why hadn’t I at least attempted to find a solution - maybe because I’m too stupid and self-involved? The – ‘I know best’ or ‘it’s not a problem’ thinking that just proves I just can’t be bothered. I mean, when I think about it I could have sought some kind of help but instead of wrapping up my bits, I was too wrapped up in myself. The people I worked with were just that workmates and we didn’t socialise at all so I didn’t have to defend my lack of action to anyone. I lashed out “Whose fuc... erm... bright idea was it to...?” Again I gripped the plastic pants tightly as if I wanted to rip them off. “Well son, if you must know it was an idea from a psychiatrist friend of ours Doctor Anise Thurber. She’s studied many such cases as your own and after discussing it with her she came up with the ‘Re-Start’ idea.” So that’s what this was all about... some psychological exercise to ‘look back and learn’? “How can she know anything about me... she’s never even met me?” I argued. “Indeed, but you will be meeting her soon... once you’re settled in and compliant.” “Mum, this isn’t fair... I... I...” I missed the ‘compliant’ bit of the conversation. “We think a psychiatrist would be good for you, one who knows and understands the pressures of growing up and wants to help. And, despite not necessarily knowing it, you do need help.” “But a psychiatrist?” “Hopefully she’ll be able to find out why you’re wetting the bed and pants so often, Surely, that alone is worth a session isn’t it?” Mum appealed to my wanting to be rid of wearing protection. I did feel guilty about how wet I’d become... and I did want rid of the nappies as soon as possible. “Yer OK... if I have to...” That old feeling of ‘just get on with it’ had returned. “Look sweetheart I did say there’d be new rules if you came back, and I did offer you a chance to leave.” She waited to see if I acknowledged this fact but I just looked at her baffled. “I hoped you’d want to stay and work with us but was, and still am, prepared to let you go if you thought you had a better future elsewhere.” She paused a moment to see my lack of reaction. “The fact you decided to stay pleases me no end but these rules are here to stay so I’ll ask you once more... are you going to stay or are you out of our lives for good?” I don’t know why but I filled up. Emotion isn’t my strong point but mum had laid bare my qualities and found I had none. I had nothing, despite telling myself I was doing fine. I’m a twenty year-old man but at that precise moment I felt no more than a silly little kid who was way out of their depth. As mum soothed by gently stroking my padded bum I cried into her loving breasts and wished I could stop the bawling but it just flowed out. “OK sweetheart, let it out. You’re safe now and I’m here to look after you.” ####

Re-Start The smell of warm stale urine filled my nostrils, another night and another wet bed... that was the twelfth in a row. Actually, it was the eleventh, I’d had a piss-free night two nights ago but obviously it hadn’t lasted. For too many mornings now I’d woken (and I use that term loosely) up to find that I’d become a bed wetter. When you’re almost twenty this can, and did, come as a bit of a shock. Recently my sleep patterns have been all over the place and I’d say I more often than not merely dozed my way through the night hours. I put it down to the fact I was simply not getting enough sleep. My mind had become the receptacle for rubbish. For instance, I remember on that first night I suddenly got it into my head – How would a three year-old stand for Parliament? Stupid question I know but the thought swamped my mind and I just couldn’t let it go. Even when I tried to distract my thoughts with music, TV or reading (no less disruptive to my sleep patterns), eventually it came back to that same question and my mind would be in turmoil trying to figure out an answer. That was the first morning I woke up to a wet bed and that was just the start of my long troubled nights. I couldn’t get to sleep no matter how hard I tried some kind of nonsense mind-worm (the thinking man’s earworm) was working away and stopping me from getting comfortable in my own bed. ‘How long is a million seconds?’ Yes, that little mind-worm was the next to invade my head as I tried desperately to find sleep. It wasn’t that I wanted to know. I mean, I don’t care and yet, the question wouldn’t let me lie. I tossed and turned, pushed blankets off and pulled them back up when my legs felt cold. I lay on my front, side, back and the other side but could find no position comfortable without that irrelevant question battling in my head. I picked up a bedside book and read hoping that diversion would be enough. After ten minutes and a chapter later I thought it safe to return and try to settle down. I think I managed to drop off before my dream merged with reality and I began to think what I’d do if I wet the bed. I had no idea where this thought came from but suddenly realised that stupid thought had become a reality and I was soaked. Oh shit two nights running... Oh, and by the way in the end I had to look it up. Answer: One million seconds is 11 days, 13 hours 46 minutes and 40 seconds # I knew about ear-worms, when a piece of music lodges in your brain and you simply can’t think of anything else but this was more annoying... but had the same result. The next night my demented pre-sleep thought was – I wonder how long it would take me to count up to a million. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... No this is stupid, you can’t start... However, the idea has been planted and the brain is saying to give it a go. 1,2,3,4... (why was I trying to count quickly?) What was annoying about this is that because I hadn’t got much sleep the night before I’d gone to bed early. I thought I was tired but that bloody million count was plaguing me and I simply couldn’t shake it. Although, every time I looked at the clock, there had been a passage of time, I’d never quite fallen asleep, merely thought how ridiculous it would be to try and count to a million. It would be the stupidest of things to do to try and count – 1, 2, 3... The alarm was set as usual for seven o’clock so that blast of heavy rock woke me up with a start. So, although I must have fallen asleep at some point I didn’t feel I had slept at all. Then the surprise - not only was I sopping again but I was so tired I felt sleep had eluded me. Another morning with piss soaked into my bed, undies and sheets was a bloody awful way to start the day. Laundry facilities were not easily available as I was living in a bedsit and the nearest laundromat was a bus ride away but thankfully there was one near work. The idea of carrying pee-soaked stuff on the bus made sure I avoided doing so until I had no choice. By then my bedsit smelled a bit and even wrapped in a couple of plastic bin-bags there was no denying what I was carrying. I just had to bluff it out and pretend it wasn’t me. # Now I have to admit that I had slight (very slight) urinary problems before. I mean, I’d like to be able to say this was all new to me but in fact, when I was younger, I’d also occasionally needed a little padding. Not a great deal I must emphasise, however, leaks did happen but my thicker cotton underpants were able to keep embarrassing stains from public disapproval. Since I was little, a toddler in fact, and had grown out of having to wear a nappy, my little briefs still had a job to do. What I mean by that is... I could get to the toilet with no trouble; negotiate getting my willy free of my pants and pointing it in the right direction was OK. The problem I had was, no matter how much time I spent making sure every drop was where it should be, in the toilet, no matter how long I shook my tiddler to make sure no drops remained; as soon as I tucked it away there would be a little extra involuntary spurt, which took me by surprise. I wore slightly damp and stained underpants for years. An under-developed urinary tract had been the diagnosis and, as I got older, had been kept in reasonable check by medication. I stopped taking the medication a year or so ago and found that I didn’t need it because the leakage stopped and all was well... that is up until now. The problem is I have no idea why my brain seems to have changed from ‘no worries’ to worrying about every bloody thing, including how long it takes to count to a million. It makes no sense but my mind is full of this stuff nearly all the time, especially when I try to go to sleep. Here’s another one: How many balloons does it take to lift a human? This little query had my brain working on the principle that in the movie ‘UP’ it took loads of balloons to lift a house so... My head felt like it would explode trying to work out a problem I didn’t WANT to know the answer to. # I’d moved from my family home to this city to be near my girlfriend. She was going to be at university here and I didn’t like the idea of a long distance relationship so got a job with a well-known tyre repair shop not too far away from her campus. It’s a busy place and operates from 8.30am to 6pm six days a week and from 10am to 4pm on Sunday. It does more than just change tyres and so is incredibly demanding. There’s always a line of cars waiting from the moment we open and then it’s non-stop throughout the day... tyres, exhausts, wheel balancing, batteries, MOTs... you get the drift. You don’t get much time for a chat that’s for certain. Anyway, I moved about six months ago and actually really like the job, but a couple of months back the girlfriend called time on us. Without saying the actual words, it basically came down to the fact that she’d met someone in one of her lectures, they had so much more in common, and I was no longer needed... she could (and had) done better. The realisation that I was thick and no longer suitable boyfriend material must have hit me in a way I didn’t understand (naturally). So perhaps that’s why I think these thoughts - thinking them important and what University goers think about... I could be wrong. Anyway, I was here now and I didn’t think our paths would cross that often in a town this size so I thought I’d ‘just get on with it’ – a recommendation I always give myself when faced with a task. “Don’t think about it, just get on with it and get it done.” The thing is I don’t know how to stop the sudden night-time urination. I mean, I don’t even know I’m doing it until I wake up but, and this is the annoying part (as well as the smell and the moist undies) I don’t feel I sleep at all. It makes for incredibly long nights so it’s no wonder I’m always so damned tired. Anyway, the irony was, if indeed it was irony, the tyre firm didn’t put up with me being tired at work and fired me. # Without a job I had no money and was unable to stay where I was living. Jobs seemed few and far between and my boss refused to give me a gleaming reference so for the moment I was stuck. That was until mum said I should return home and she’d look after me. I told her I wasn’t a little kid but she said that didn’t matter what I needed right then and there was someone to care and a mummy (yes she used the word MUMMY, which I knew she was saying just to tease me but still felt a little weird) knew best how to care for her son. As it turned out, the landlord sent me packing after he’d had complaints about the smell of piss drifting into next door’s bedsit. I tried to convince him it was the plumbing but he called my bluff and said it was mine that needed sorting. So, I had little option but accept mum’s offer. Now, despite my best efforts at being a grown-up, I was twenty after all, I arrived home carrying all my belongings and a good proportion of which stunk of piss. Mum took one look (actually just a quick smell) and dumped my sheets and piss-stained clothes straight in the rubbish. The shake of her head as she tutted and looked me up and down made me feel like I did when a toddler and had accidentally wet myself. Oh hell, I think that stain on my pants might be fairly recent. “You young man,” she looked through the rest of my ill-packed cases, “are not equipped to deal with being on your own... and why is everything soaked for heaven’s sake I thought we were past all this?” She already knew that I’d been dumped by my girlfriend because that happened a few weeks ago and I’d told her but hadn’t explained why I’d been sacked. I really had a lot to tell mum but didn’t know how to go about it because it sounded so dumb and juvenile. I mean, not sleeping because you’re thinking of stupid problems... which leads to a wet bed... well, it’s just... childish. However, mum said she’d missed me whilst I’d been away and was happy to have me back. Even though I’d only been gone a few months my room had been changed. Despite my age, I’d left my bedroom like that of a teenager as I’d been too lazy (and too poor) to change the single bed, my football duvet cover or the posters on the wall. Now the walls were bare, my single bed was just a mattress and looked naked and empty, the furniture had been re-jigged a little and a lick of paint had made it seem quite clinical. At least mum hadn’t made it her sewing den as threatened. However, now I was back, and thanked mum profusely for letting me return, I promised that I’d find a job and sort myself out. She just hugged me and said “Welcome home sweetheart but first things first... if you’re staying then there will be some new rules”. ####

Thanks for your continued support and I'm pleased you like the shorties ? There should be a two parter up on the new story site very soon.

Is it a comfort to think that there maybe another level after death? As it takes two people to create life in the first place, how weird would it be that it takes two to move you on? Instead of re-birth... what if you stay the same age and maintain all your old ailments.... now that would be a cruel twist.

A few days ago I stretched, yawned and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes as I slowly woke up. I wasn’t sure why but things felt different. I snuggled back down to try and defer actually getting up for a few more minutes but there was something niggling at the back of my mind. What is it? I eased the bedding down and I was wearing pyjamas... I haven’t worn pyjamas for years and these are for a little kid so...? Actually, they felt strangely comforting, soft stretchy cotton that seemed like an old friend. However, as I wriggled a little more I could feel there was something further down. Pulling the sheet away I could see that my jammie bottoms were puffed out quite a bit, the yielding material was dragged into a ‘V’ shape magnifying what was underneath and I became aware of exactly what it was that felt so ‘different’. I ran my hand over the cotton bulge and could feel the slinky padding hugging my lower reaches. I drew my hand away in shock... just what the hell had happened to me? # A few days ago I received an email that said I’d won £3.5 million on the lottery. I knew it was a hoax, on the same scale as the African General who wants my banking details so he can deposit a vast sum in my account for some spurious reason. I clicked delete. Even though I knew I’d deleted it when I returned to my email it was still there. I read it again and it definitely said I’d won £3.5 million on the lottery. I re-read it a third time but on this occasion it said I COULD win £3.5 million if I played the lottery and it even had the numbers written out that I should use. This was strange because, although I’d played the lottery when it first started, using a selection of birthdays and ‘lucky numbers’, I’d never so much as won a penny. However, and I had no idea how this scam worked, the numbers I read on the email were the same numbers I’d used all those years ago... and I’m talking like twenty years back. I wasn’t going to be sucked into the lottery again so pressed delete. Two minutes later it popped up again, only this time the numbers had changed and I was told, if an email can tell you anything, that these were winning numbers for next week and I’d definitely win £3.5 million AT LEAST. For the rest of the afternoon, every time I returned to my mail, the message had reappeared but the numbers hadn’t changed. Although I knew it was a scam I couldn’t let it go. That night I had the most vivid of dreams that I’d won a huge amount of money (I had no idea how much but it was millions) and my life was so much more fun. For a guy in middle age, with few friends, few opportunities and even few chances of advancement in my dead-end job, the freedom my dream presented was glorious. So, come the morning and decided if the email was still there I’d invest in a lottery entry. I followed the link, used my credit card to secure the ridiculous (but hopeful) investment and used the numbers provided. Up came the information that on the Saturday night draw, there was £28 million that was definitely going to be won and I was thanked for my entry. “GOOD LUCK” Meanwhile, work didn’t get any better but at least the email had enabled me to dream of luxury I couldn’t afford but was sure I’d enjoy given the chance. It was silly I know, but as the weekend approached I was getting more and more excited about the draw because you could watch it live online. My Saturday nights usually follow a pretty unexciting formula of pizza and a few beers, whilst enjoying a movie or listening to the albums I’d collected since I was young. I’d slip on my headphones and happily sink back in time to when each song brought back a memory; a gig I’d seen, a TV programme I’d watched or a blockbuster I’d sat transfixed by at the local Odeon. Ah, nostalgia isn’t what it used to be... it’s actually better, well, for me anyway. Guess what... I won £7 million. # I mean, this bed isn’t mine. Well, it is, well something similar (though not the same) as the one I had as a kid. Also, I’ve never had a Paws Patrol duvet cover or a bed that crinkles when you move. I could now feel the waterproof sheet over my mattress as I took in more and more. The wallpaper was all Paws Patrol... someone must have had a fetish about this... whatever it was... I presume a TV programme for kids. Oh, that’s what these images are on my pyjamas... more Paws Patrol. This is stupid. I’m forty-five years old so... but the mirror on the closet door showed I wasn’t... staring back was a five or six year old little kid. I looked confused but snug in my PJs but there was no escaping the padding. How? Why? “Morning sunshine.” A woman with a South African accent walked into my room all cheery, drawing back the curtains before coming over to brush the hair from my forehead and giving me a morning kiss. “Exciting day for my little sunbeam,” she smiled encouragement, “but let’s have breakfast first and then I’ll get you ready for your first day at school.” Loads of things, confused things, were whirling around in my head and I wanted to say something ... mainly “who the hell are you?” but all that came out was a childish “Yes mama.” MAMA? She reached out her long elegant hand, softly took hold of mine and helped me from my bed. I rustled a little as I walked but it seemed normal as we wondered into the kitchen. “Good morning our clever little student.” I presume this was papa (?), who had a similar twang, was smiling and looking cheerfully over his morning paper. A baby girl, around two, whom I suspect was my sister and she just gurgled her “Hewwoo Stuud...” she failed to say student but beamed at me anyway. I automatically smiled and replied ‘Howzit‘ and patted her giggling head. A bowl was placed in front and cereal poured. As I ate my ‘parents’ were chatting enthusiastically about my first day of school in English but with quite a guttural accent. I had no idea who these people were but I was a little kid so they must be my parents. “Did you sleep well Davy boya?” Papa was asking that accent extending a word. I nodded but that padding around my groin told me that I’d at least wet it but, I assumed, if I wore it they must have been expecting me to use it so... However, I still was trying to work out what was going on because when I went to bed last night I was definitely a forty-five year old man, with an awful job at a company finance, a mortgage and... oh yes.... hadn’t I just come into some money? Was that a dream? Was this a dream? Yes, that’s what it must be because I’d been asked a question online hadn’t I. “When were you at your happiest?” # It had been a question that went alongside some of the info that winning a huge sum of money entailed. I assume they wanted to assess that I wouldn’t go off the rails with such a huge amount and that I was psychologically equipped to handle this fortune. As I’d never won anything before I wasn’t sure if these questions were reasonable or not but, as I was still euphoric about all that money, wasn’t that bothered about the morality or intrusion of such questions. I’d mentioned that I was happiest when I’d taken some time out after school to do voluntary work overseas. I’d spent just over a year working in South Africa with aid workers and other volunteers rebuilding villages that had been devastated by fire and drought. I’d helped build a school, which had been emotional when I saw all the eager little kids from the area in their beige uniforms of short and shirt, flocking to be educated. It was one of my most gratifying moments. On the back of that memory I also mentioned that I was also so excited about going to school when I was five. That first year was wonderful - all the friends I made, all the fun we had, all the great teachers who seemed to love us as much as our parents. It was such a lovely period of my childhood and had that euphoric feeling you wished lasted a lifetime. It then asked, in what I thought was a very frivolous way, if I’d give my £7 million back if I could have those days back. Of course, in the same flippant vein, I replied I’d give everything for a return to a more loving time. Oops!!! I looked up at my ‘parents’ and they were beaming with pride in having their son about to embark on his first day of school but I wondered why because these weren’t my actual parents. My actual father had left home when I was ten and died from TB seven years later. Mum remarried when I was thirteen, it was all OK but I got a job and left home when I was twenty. It was the job I still had and one I didn’t particularly like but it paid OK and better than no job at all. My fiancée decided at the wedding chapel she couldn’t go through with it and so, for the last fifteen years, I’d cut myself off from socialising and kept myself to myself. So, who wouldn’t crave a more loving time? Those queries had certainly opened me up a bit and perhaps it was the bottle of celebratory champagne I’d quaffed all to myself when I answered those questions that have led to... I looked at the date on ‘papa’s’ paper – it was NOW, not the date when I was five years old. How? what? why? erm... ohhhh! # I finished my bowl of cereal and mama smiled in a most loving way. “OK sweet-potato, let’s get you ready for your first day of school... exciting isn’t it?” A wriggled in my seat well aware of the soaked padding I was sitting in and then I remembered something more. When I had first started school I still wore nappies. I hadn’t mastered the potty at night and I’d worn a nappy for the first year in class. I was the only one but the teachers took it in their stride at every break to check I was dry, or change me if needed. Mama stripped me out of my Paws Patrol jammies, slipped me out of the wet padding, wiped me down and doused me in lotion and powder before applying a colourful thick disposable. “These are special fun pants for our little student,” she beamed (she was a very happy and pleasant lady whoever she was) to absorb more so you’ll need less changes by your lovely teachers... isn’t that nice?” Her accent wasn’t quite as thick as papa’s. “Yes mama, thanks mama.” I said as she opened up the plastic pants for me to step into then shuffled them up and over my special multi-coloured padding. “You’re going to have a wonderful time sweetheart, all those new friends... and papa says he’s so proud of you... we all are.” She tapped my padded bottom, went to the closet and pulled out my new uniform I was going to be so proud to wear. It meant I was growing up. The khaki shirt slipped over my head followed by my new matching shorts, which like the plastic pants, she shuffled over my padding. Hold on. I’m forty-five so I haven’t worn... erm... deeerrr... umm... Except, my old self was retreating in my memory as the prospect of starting that first day of school arrived. Photos were taken by my proud parents of me in a uniform and clutching a small Paws Patrol backpack. I guess I was a fan of Paws Patrol. My bedroom had not been my bedroom, the house hadn’t been my house, my parents hadn’t been my parents, except... everything was. So now I was ready for school, wearing shorts, shirt and no shoes, I wondered what else wasn’t mine but was. As the door opened, and the blast of hot air came flooding in, I realised I was about to start school in the South African bush. Not quite the more tribal area where I’d help re-build the school, this was rural but still urban. There were quite a few other kids my age all marching towards a low brick building further down the road – Nelson Mandela Laerskool. I excitedly greeted Menzi also starting today but Neo was still clutching her mother crying. I had no idea who these kids were but apparently I did. I spoke a welcome in Afrikkans and greeted others in English it looked like my school was going to be very diverse. It also looked like I wasn’t the only one going barefoot as we first timers nervously stood around wondering what we were supposed to do. Pretty soon a host of teachers came along, smiling and welcomed us all to our new class. It was at that moment when I apprehensively (and comprehensively) filled my luier. # “Well hallo Davy.” There were other greetings going on in English, Afrikkans, Zulu and several other local accents, as each new child was welcomed to their first class at their first school. “Hallo Miss.” She made herself known, “Miss Mbeki.” “Hallo Miss Mbeki,” I replied with a nervous smile but happy to be starting school. It meant I was now a big boy. “I’ll change you once we get everyone settled.” She whispered in my ear so no one else heard. I wasn’t sure how she knew but I suppose adults know these things which are a mystery to a... hold on a minute... I’m not a kid I’m, erm, a fort, thir, twen, erm, no, I’m five? # With the instruction to ‘Always Play Nicely’ echoing in our heads, we all went and found things to play with. Friends were sought out and new friends made as toys were enjoyed in the hot morning air. Meanwhile, I was gently guided to the back of the building where the toilets and changing rooms were. “OK Davy, you’re our first customer of the day,” Miss Mbeki smiled encouragement, “so, let’s get that wet thing off and you into something drier.” It didn’t seem to bother her I still wore aluier... I mean a nappy... we were supposed to mainly speak English but there were so many other languages, we all slipped into versions of our original tongue at times. Off came my shorts, plastic pants and ‘special’ nappy. “These are nice and thick Davy, your mama really looks after you.” A thorough wipe around followed by an equally comprehensive dousing in cream and powder was the first of many such treatments I’d be receiving in future. The replacement nappy felt even thicker but not as colourful. So, once everything was back in place and I was sent off to play, I couldn’t let that worry me. There was simply too much excitement to see and do in that playground. “Seven million, seven million, seven...” This thought was echoing around my head but had no idea what it might mean. I believed it was a number, and though I could count quite well seven million meant nothing special to me... yet it still was at the forefront of my head as we frolicked and amused ourselves. It was a glorious day, so we spent most of it outdoors and I made loads and loads and loads of friends. I played with anyone and everyone and had a great time. So good in fact that I didn’t want to hurry home but mama was waiting at the gate and I excited ran into her loving arms. “Mama,” I enthused, “it was the best day ever.” She smiled and hugged me close and murmured. “So seven million well spent?” Those words again but I had no idea what she was talking about but my nappy needed changing so I skipped, holding her hand, all the way back home. “Sweetie, you’re soaked.” I shrugged. I’d never been happier or more content. I loved mama, papa, my little sis and the teachers and all my new friends and... Mama kissed the top of my head as if she knew my thoughts and answered as she stroked my well-cushioned bottom. “And we love our sweet little padded boy... so let’s make this day even better.” She cleaned me up and put me in a similar colourful nappy to my little sister and left us to play together outside as she went to get snacks. Sis had a special swing she liked so I pushed her on that to happy squeals. Eventually mama came out with a tray and we sat on the grass in the warm late afternoon air whilst I excitedly told her about my first day. As I chatted animated by my own enthusiasm I rolled a ball between me and little sis. She giggled and, getting her co-ordination rolled it back as best she could. I was home, happy and content. I loved my family and they loved me... I couldn’t wait for school tomorrow. Mama smiled at us both. “I’ve been blessed with two of the cutest little sweethearts in the world.” We giggled back and then hugged her. She patted our padded bottoms. “Yes two little cuties I hope you always stay just as you are.” ### They didn’t know it but ‘little sis’ had also won seven million on the lottery and had answered the same question as Davy. When the people in charge found two that had enjoyed their younger years so much and were prepared to exchange money for such a life – the trade was made and they became brother and sister who would stay just as they were for ever.

Thank you it's very gratifying to know when people like something you've spent quite some time putting together.?

Thanks for the comment... a bit weird considering the subject... but I am grateful to you for taking the time to do so.

Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks Thanks again... makes you want to delve into the nappy box doesn't it? My pleasure and thanks for the comment it's much appreciated. Always happy to bring matters to a suitable and happy close. As for anything new I have a few stories bubbling but nothing I can put online just yet but... stay tuned and thanks for your continued support. Thanks for the comment... which do you prefer... with or with out soaker pads? Hugs to each and all who enjoyed the story. All the best Les

Part 20 Ethan woke up in his bed. He could feel he was still wearing thick padding, plastic pants and a soft cotton t-shirt but something was different. He was a little disorientated because the last thing remembered was listening to a lady’s voice. He had no recollection of coming to bed or mum changing him into his nightly nappy - so what happened? “Morning sweetie.” Jessica breezed into her son’s bedroom full of the joys of, well, late summer and drew back his duvet cover. “How are you feeling sweetheart, you’ve slept for a long time... must have had some catching up to do.” “Erm, what, umm, what happened, hmmmnnn, I don’t remem...?” He sounded even more muddled. As he was getting his focus back Jessica pushed a finger up between his plastic pants and nappy and smiled. “Guess the ‘pill’ worked this time huh?” She ruffled his hair, “dry as a bone sweetheart, well done.” Ethan looked down in amazement at his bulging plastic pants. “So that’s what’s different,” he thought, “I’m dry.” A huge smile spread across his face. “I’M DRY!” he shouted to no one in particular... except Cindy heard him and sneered. “You said I took a pill but I don’t remember.” His eyes were bright but confused. “Well darling, the nice lady who came yesterday hypnotised you... remember?” “I remember her speaking and me lying out but...” “Well, she spoke and you responded quite quickly,” she paused for him to catch up, “and after a little while asked you to take the pill.” She purposely didn’t go into any detail so for Ethan it was all a bit vague. “Then asked if you were tired and you yawned and said you just wanted to sleep so... I brought you to bed, changed your wet boxers and let you sleep. We didn’t know you were going to sleep right through.” She smiled “So you must have needed it after the previous night’s messy upset.” She gave him a moment to take in what was said. “Your dad slept with you for some of the night, just to check if you might sleepwalk again, and I slept with you until about ten minutes ago. You were dead to the world the entire time.” She stroked his face. “So no nocturnal wanderings and no wet nappy so win, win all-round I’d say.” He almost looked cheerful but then a sudden thought crossed his mind. “Ohhh mum, I haven’t done my homework... I’ll be in serious trouble...” He looked a bit panicky. “Don’t worry, that’s why I’ve woken you up early so you can get on with it and then I can get you ready for school. I’ll bring a bowl of Corn Flakes up and some juice, and you, better get on with that.” She pointed to the open books on his desk. # Thankfully, there wasn’t a great deal of homework. It was only the maths that needed to be handed in; the other stuff was on-going. He sat at his desk wearing the thick dry nappy and was pleasantly surprised at how nice it felt but at the same time wondered if this would be a regular thing or just a one off. His morning clean-up was certainly quicker than the previous day and was washed and ready with a much thinner disposable under the plastic pants. Ethan wasn’t sure because he was used to a more reassuring thick wad of material between his legs. However, his mum said she was convinced that if he needed to go he’d be able to make it without wetting and less material meant he’d be able to access his ‘bits’ that much quicker. She more or less challenged him to return home dry. She had faith in what had taken place over night but, just to be on the safe side, there was some padding if needed. He didn’t need to wear shorts but thought that if he didn’t then people might be curious as to why he wore them for one day and he wouldn’t have a good enough answer. The walk to school was only with Mitch as Doug was late but when they got through the gates there was another surprise. Loads of other kids, well another ten at least, were also wearing shorts and the reason was because Ethan (local hero stunt cyclist) had worn them the previous day. So, who knew that despite all his worries, doubts and fears, he’d become an influencer to some of his school mates? What was also quite amazing was that throughout the day his need to relieve himself happened at break times so made it to the boy’s toilet in plenty of time. He arrived home with a damp-from-wear disposable, rather than a well-used and physically deteriorating one. He couldn’t believe things had changed so quickly. # Over the next couple of days and mornings Ethan remained dry. He took the ‘pill’ each night and, together with encouragement from mum and dad, slept the sleep of the innocent, even though he was still wearing precautionary nappies. However, the concession was that it became less bulky and by the time weekend came around, such was his confidence that he spent Saturday without any protection and Sunday night wearing just jammies. Ethan was pleased with this outcome. His wetting had suddenly started and now it had just as suddenly stopped. He didn’t know how hypnotism, or even the ‘pill’, worked but they’d both spectacularly succeeded so briefly wondered if the wonderfully exotic Mrs Chanthara was from Hogwarts. He noticed that the cartons of wet-wipes, anti-rash cream and baby powder all disappeared from his room. His top drawer now held underwear and not piles of nappies, pull-ups or disposables. Things were getting back to normal and he was actually enjoying Big School. Everyone was happy except for two people: Cindy thought she’d lost her authority of being a Big Girl and though he hadn’t said anything, Doug wished he’d got on the ‘nappy bus’ earlier. It was a link they had but oh so briefly, but now the poor boy was wondering if he dare ask Eeth for his spare disposables though didn’t know how. As well as the lack of padding under his shorts Doug had noticed his best mate’s attitude change, and though he knew that period had passed wished they might experience that brief moment of nappy familiarity again. # Jessica explained to Peter how Mrs Chanthara had come to their aid and how, through a little hypnosis and deception, had nudged their son onto a different trajectory. Whilst under the influence of the mystical and hypnotic direction of Mrs Chanthara she gently suggested Ethan no longer needed to wear protection, that taking a pill was the answer to his problems and that any anxiety he once had would just fly away as he counted back down from ten. However, before he returned to the land of the un-hypnotised Jessica wanted to probe further. During the trance he’d more-or-less confessed to becoming reliant on wearing a nappy. Taking full advantage of the state of affairs Jessica delved into just what her son actually wanted and was surprised at the results. Her curiosity on the issue of sleepwalking produced very little. When questioned under the influence it didn’t register he knew anything about it. So, she hoped that by suggesting he didn’t need to get a drink of water during the night, it might stop him from somnambulating. However, by the end of the session, which had produced more information than she’d expected, Jessica saw her son was looking tired and vulnerable and suggested that perhaps a long sleep might help the situation. Mrs Chanthara agreed she could help and soon Ethan drifted off into a heavy and prolonged sleep. Still unsure if he would sleepwalk both parents decided they would stay with him through the night to check. Jessica had taken notes and didn’t throw out all his wetting paraphernalia; putting them in a box to be stored away. She’d tell him they were available if there was ever a need (or desire) to use any of it again. Meanwhile, Peter admitted to something that had become very apparent – he’d also enjoyed wearing nappies as a kid and the fact that he now (occasionally) wore them for sex had been a huge boost. He’d almost become quite envious of his son being able to parade around in full padding and couldn’t believe it when Jessica asked him to wear similar stuff himself. This had been like an emotional bomb going off. Peter was grateful for the opportunity his wife offered. Jessica couldn’t believe the whirlwind of sexuality it had unleashed. Who would have thought such a thing could happen... but happen it did? To Jessica at least things were beginning to make some kind of sense. Her husband looked fantastic, cute, sexy and definitely all man... even as he set about her with sexual abandon wearing nothing but thick padding and plastic pants. He enjoyed reacquainting himself with a wonderful childhood experience, whilst she not only loved his erotic attention but had come to think very positive about what some people need though are often denied by mere convention. She wasn’t going to deny that to anyone in her family... so the nappies stayed if they were wanted. # Some kind of normality returned to the Lynd household, well, for Ethan at least. No more nappies drying on the washing line, no more plastic pants airing on the shower rail and no more bulky fabric between his legs. Oddly, it took him a few nights coming to terms with sleeping minus all that. Also, like Cindy, he’d quickly been phased out of needing to take the ‘pill’. Cindy had pointed out that she was out of having to wear protection before him so she was better. She didn’t say at what, just better. Occasionally, mummy overheard her still trying to goad her brother but she put an end to that by letting her daughter know that she was ‘so much better behaved when wearing a nappy’. To that end her daughter’s top drawer always contained a few princess pull-ups as a reminder. That not very subtle threat usually made her think twice before continuing with her superior attitude. The doctor had been wrong Ethan did have a small scar on his thigh. However, other than that, everything healed up incredibly well and there was no remaining evidence of his spectacular prang. Jessica put that down to wearing shorts so that fresh air could circulate and help in its repair. Like a few of the boys in his class, he wore shorts until the first cold morning of autumn, when it was a return to long trousers. # Despite some misgivings, he mounted his repaired bike and once again took to the tracks in the woods; even managing to manoeuvre down the trail that had led to his accident. He didn’t pedal quite so fast but it was still a nerve-wracking encounter. However, once done his mates Doug, Gary and new school friend Rashid (Mitch now more interested in pursuing girls than playing out) were busy finding new routes to explore. Without the worry of padding Ethan fairly blossomed in confidence and was up for any new experience. Doug seemed a permanent attachment and followed his best mate everywhere, thankfully he was good company. Despite all this renewed self-confidence there was something missing. Ethan wasn’t quite sure what but there was definitely something tugging away at the back of his mind. At first he thought it might be something to do with the doctor’s assessment that they’d never got to the bottom of. Or maybe something granny had said last time they visited but couldn’t quite recall. Possibly something the enigmatic Mrs Chanthara had subtly left in his head. More than likely it was a knowing comment from Cindy. Whatever it was... it was definitely bugging him. It was like an unsolved problem or unanswered question. The worry that something was missing and something big was really preying on his mind. # One day Ethan arrived home and his pants were soaked. He looked wide-eyed and confused at his mother and told her that as he walked home he suddenly found himself unconsciously peeing. He had no inkling it was about to happen and only became aware of it when he realised how wet and warm his genitals had become. “Do you remember what you were thinking about?” His mother asked concerned. “Not really, I think it was about Doug and me doing something but I can’t really remember.” He hadn’t mentioned to his parents that for a few days now he’d felt a little off-centre. Not in a sickly way just a feeling he was missing an important facet from his life... though had no idea what. This was an unexpected thing to realise as everything was going so well at school, whilst socially it had never been better. Now there was no padding, no anxiety, no bullies and more friends than he’d ever had... so, what the hell was troubling him... and more especially, why had he just wet his pants? Thankfully, he’d managed to get home without anyone else seeing the shameful damp stain but was completely unnerved as to how it happened. However, Jessica could tell her son needed a boost, he was wet and confused and that gave her an idea to try something she hoped might ease his burden. She asked if perhaps he wanted to wear one of his old disposables when he got changed. He looked vacantly at her as if her words hardly registered but just shrugged and shook his head. That hadn’t been the reaction she was expecting but perhaps he didn’t know what he wanted. So, whilst he was in the bathroom doing something he hadn’t done for some time now, like cleaning up the urine doused area and throwing soiled clothes in the laundry basket, she put her plan into action. The box of all his old stuff, which hadn’t seen the light of day for a couple of months was taken from its hiding place and returned to Ethan’s wardrobe. Jessica delved past the fabric nappies to find what she was looking for. She’d remembered how much he liked the way this particular style of disposable brushed against his skin. How comfortable and how safe he said he felt whilst wearing it. She left one unopened on his bed so it would be up to him to take it any further. Returning to his room she’d gone but saw what had been left. Ethan carefully examined it and shrugged as if it meant nothing to him. However, he paused and touched the soft fabric (a ripple ran through his body), what had he to lose by trying it? So, without giving it any further thought, fluffed it out, wrapped it around his groin and taped it tightly in place. # That feeling of something missing suddenly vanished, supplanted by a friendly and comforting cosiness he didn’t know he’d been missing. He ran the palms of his hands over the soft padded material and knew this was it. A shiver of appreciation ran along every nerve in his body but for once, it wasn’t accompanied by a spurt of pee. He patted the fluffy layers of fabric in appreciation, thought about adding a pair of vinyl pants, but instead pulled up a pair of red nylon PE shorts and wandered down to the kitchen with the top of the disposable unintentionally jutting over the top of his waistband. “Mum, is it OK for me to wear, you know, this?” He stood unsure with the obvious bulge under his shorts. She could tell he seemed more than a little uncertain, especially after all the previous wet days and nights, but there was no doubt about it, Ethan wearing padding seemed so right. “Sweetheart, I think you know the answer. If you want to wear a nappy I’m not going to stop you. In fact, all your stuff is in a box in your wardrobe... you can just get it when you feel you want it.” Still a little hesitantly he asked. “Will it be wrong?” “Not to me or your father (though didn’t expand on that reference) and if you’re OK with it... then nobody else matters.” She soothed his anxiety, as mother’s do, by stroking hair from his brow. “Can I wear them, occasionally...?” “Of course... as always... the choice is yours.” She said remembering how she’d cajoled him into wearing a nappy in the first place. That hypnosis session had revealed so much about her son so now was the opportunity to put what she’d learned into practice. Mrs Chanthara’s encouragement, easy going charisma and wise words, had, much to Jessica’s surprise, rubbed off on her. “Be understanding, be thoughtful, be proactive”. Having used the hypnosis session to make him forget about seeing his father wearing a nappy, she was happy for him to think he’d be the only one. However, Ethan had other ideas. “Oh, and can Doug come over, erm, we can do our homework together?” He asked hopefully. “Of course... your friends are always welcome,” she smiled not knowing precisely to what she was agreeing. He walked over and gave her the biggest of heartfelt hugs. “Thanks mum... you know... for everything.” The sudden emotional embrace took her by surprise. “That’s OK sweetie,” she patted his padded bottom and was pleased for its return, “it’s what mums are for.” Whilst in this unconditional clinch Jessica realised that perhaps, after all, nappies were just something the Lynd family were into. It may have been sparked by other events but when it came down to it... there was just something about a nappy. She looked down at her son and stroked the cushion that was now tightly gripping his waist. He appeared so happy to have that sensation back so she was happy her boy was happy. Ethan wriggled in satisfaction whilst at the same time relaxing his bladder and letting the absorption qualities of his fresh disposable do its work. “Mum, mum, mum... this is so nice,” he whispered and held her even more tightly. She felt the material grow warm and expand. “Yes it is love,” she looked lovingly at her boy. “Yes it is.” ### The End ###

Perhaps things best left hidden... however we'll soon find out. You are correct... unless there are soaker pads lining the nappy.

Part 19 After a weird night of strange dreams, which focused on him and Doug betting each other about who could fill their disposables the best, it wasn’t surprising that Ethan woke up to a full and messy nappy. Doug had been all happiness and fun, whilst he was being secretive and unsure. However, it had been Ethan who suggested the competition at which he was the winner as Doug couldn’t “force one out”. Nonetheless, as ever in dreams, all was fine as they continued to run and play wearing only their nappies. It wasn’t like they were toddlers or anything they were still eleven years old but wearing thick padding. The heavy weight in the rear of Ethan’s causing him to fall on his bum several times with much laughter as he squished and slid around in the thick stinky wrap. For some reason Doug’s remained pristine throughout their antics. It had been the call from mum that it was getting up time and her saying out loud “Not again” that pulled him to consciousness. As his senses became more attuned he saw her scurrying around opening a window and collected a load of paraphernalia. “C’mon, get up, you’ve got school... and we’ve a major clean up job to do first.” She didn’t seem angry just concerned and in a hurry because there was more to be done than just change his nappy. She also noticed that the glass of water and ‘pill’ she’d left on his computer desk had not been taken. “Oh darling, you forgot to take your pill.” That was her fault, she should have made sure like she had Cindy so that was down to her. Still, that alone didn’t explain the mess and odour that greeted her as she walked in his bedroom. There was more she could have said but thought better to leave it until another time. Ethan lay there stunned. How could he have done this... again? The smell and the heavy load he could feel surrounding his bum was the worst way to greet the day. What was even more annoying, he knew he was doing it, well, in his dream he knew he was doing it and didn’t care. He’d made a bet with his best friend as to who could make the biggest, shittiest dump and he’d won. How was he going to explain what had happened? He didn’t think the morning could start any worse but then... “Has Eeth pooped his nappy again?” Spoke a not overly concerned younger sister as she stood at his door sniffing the fetid air. “Mummy, I’m dry... again.” Ethan could hear her childish contempt but had no come back. “Poor Eeth... just as well he wears a nappy though isn’t it mummy... cos otherwise....” “Yes sweetie... now go get ready for school... and leave your brother alone.” She called as Cindy disappeared back to her bedroom. Feeling more than ever superior, she threw her dry night time pull-up aside, picked up her little cotton princess panties and wriggled them into place. “Yeahhh, Big Girl,” she beamed into her mirror with some satisfaction. As Ethan waddled to the bathroom with the help of his mother he knew this was not going to be the best day of his life. # “What is it... the third or fourth time you’ve messed your nappy?” His mother knew the answer but wanted to give him a chance to explain. He tried to tell her about his awful dream but decided better to remain silent. Sighing loudly he just nodded as she released the pins and the whole unpleasant bundle dropped to the floor. He turned on the shower as Jessica busied herself getting a few things together but, as he stood under the warm jets, a feeling of utter distress enveloped him. Surprisingly he found himself shaking, shivering and crying all at the same time. Emotion took hold of his body and sobbed as he looked down at the messy nappy that still lay dumped in the bottom of the shower. He hated to see his protection in such a state, whilst at the same time resenting having to wear it. He was eleven years-old for heaven’s sake. However, as he begrudged the item in question he also knew that without the thick padding and plastic pants, his bed would have taken the full force and that outcome would have been horrendous. So, in a matter of just a few moments he felt both resentment and reliance on that strategic piece of material that lay, with a small stream of soggy brown mush meandering down the plughole, accusingly at his feet. # Jessica found Ethan crying as she helped him from the shower and dried him off. “Ssshhuuussshhh sweetheart... don’t cry... it’s just an accident....” She tried her best to placate him but the huge wracking sobs told her there was more than regret going on here. “Mmmuuummm, I didn’t mean it.” His broken and tired voice tried to get out but even as the quiet words slipped from his mouth he knew he was lying to her. He’d known exactly what he was doing even if it was a dream. He was playing a game that ended with a full nappy as a win... he had to know the outcome. Why was he playing around in a nappy? Why was he dreaming about padding? Why had Doug’s enthusiasm made him think about his own attitude to all of this... stuff? “I know love, I know... don’t worry... soon mended.” She tried to sound comforting but knew that he was in a delicate state and wasn’t sure if the thick nappy she’d prepared was the correct solution. However, until she tried to pin it on she wouldn’t know. She led him through to his bedroom and let him see what was waiting for him. She thought if he baulked at any of it she would keep him at home and phone the school he was sick. It didn’t happen. Laying out he seemed unconcerned that he was being put into something thick and absorbent. The extra padding and hefty rubber pants, although obvious would mean he was safe from leaks and too many changes. She pulled out a pair of his old grey school shorts because they would hide the bulge so much better than his trousers and simply got him ready as usual. Although the evidence of his protection had been partially disguised, the fact he was wearing shorts, and therefore only one of a handful of kids at the school who still did so, would signal him out. However, as the school knew about his problem, and she’d call ahead to make sure they were still on the ball, she wasn’t that worried. However, Ethan was worried. # As she pinned him tightly in Ethan nervously found his voice. “Mum.” “Yes sweetie.” “Is all this,” and he looked down at the thick fabric that now covered his crotch, “because dad likes to wear a nappy?” The question took Jessica by surprise. “Sweetheart, that was in the past, when he was young... I know granny said things but... no... he was only...” She was looking for the right words when he interrupted her. “But I saw dad wearing a nappy and plastic pants the other night when I got up to go to the bathroom. He seemed...” Now it was his mother’s turn to interrupt. “Are you sure? I mean, erm, maybe you dreamed it...” but she was making her embarrassment worse and Ethan could tell she was stalling. “No, I saw him and heard you call him Baby or something like that... you sounded happy.” Then he had another thought. “Do you think I’m turning into a baby?” He looked scared at the prospect. For a second she wasn’t sure how to answer that because in all honesty, every time she’d changed his nappy, or bought some new padding, her mind would slip back to when he was a baby. She loved doing it then and, although she wasn’t going to make a fuss like she had at that time, loved doing so now. But that wasn’t the answer she offered her troubled son. “No, of course not love. Have we ever treated you as a baby?” She didn’t wait for a response. “No, nor would we ever. Just because at the moment you wear protection doesn’t mean you’re becoming a baby...” she could see he wanted to believe her but still had doubts, “Is that what you’re scared of, you know, regressing to a baby?” Tears weren’t far off so she shrugged and hugged him. She’d have to tell him the ‘truth’, otherwise this was just going to get ridiculous. “Well,” she said getting close, like she was telling him a secret, “I’ll let you into a little secret. Your daddy, erm, dad and I have been inspired by your nappies, and, erm, um, we wondered what it must be like for you so... he tried them.” She never mentioned her own attempt at wearing them neither did she mention their wonderful new sex games. “Have I infected dad in some way?” He looked glum as his mother shuffled up rubber pants to cover the huge batch of material he now wore. “No love, no, it was just an experiment. We wanted to see what it must be like for you to go through all this... erm...” She was lying but thought her son looked so guilty he might just buy this excuse. “But granny said dad used to wear a nappy when he was my age... have I got it from him?” He asked suspiciously. She could see her son’s mind working trying to sort this out and make some sense of it all. “...and, and Cindy wet herself was that my fault as well?” he looked pained even though at the time he was happy she’d woken to a flooded bed. “No love, I think she was just as apprehensive as you going back to school. Don’t forget, she didn’t have a big, strong brother to go with this time so... maybe... she was missing your... um, protection.” She was guilty of a little smile as she said the word protection. “Look,” she said trying to look on the bright side, “your leg has almost healed and school’s going well, so, perhaps the anxiety you’ve experienced over the last few weeks will soon disappear... just as quickly as it came, hmm?” Things were still bouncing around in his head, but she thought of something else. “Look, the little pill I’ve been giving Cindy seems to have worked, so, as you forgot last night, maybe that had something to do with all this so, tonight, how about you take two and see if, in the morning, things have been helped?” She knew she was lying but couldn’t think of anything more optimistic to tell him. “Look, we’re almost done. Let’s get you into your uniform and then how about a bit of breakfast?” “I’m not sure I want anything... is that OK?” “No problem sweetheart but you should have something. How about a breakfast bar you can eat on your way to school, hmm?” He nodded. He looked in the mirror and decided mum was correct about the shorts hiding the padding better than his trousers but still walked with a strange waddle. It was difficult to walk normally with that much stuffing between his legs. # On the walk to school he’d admitted to Mitch and Doug that he was wearing a thicker nappy because he’d had a terrible accident that night. He didn’t explain that it had partly concerned Doug. Doug subtly moved closer to Eeth and looked at him with curiosity and admiration. With the weather still being pleasantly warm there were more than just him still wearing shorts for school but that did attract attention. Although he got one or two jokes about his ‘white knees’, no one seemed to cotton on to the waddle he’d had to adopt. The Head Boy must have been told something because a couple of times he approached Ethan and asked if all was OK. Thankfully, despite having wet his nappy by lunchtime, things had gone off relatively well. The thick soaker pads seemed to be doing a terrific job in keeping him from feeling too damp though he could feel the rubber pants gripping him more tightly. All-in-all, and although he was thoroughly sodden on his way home, he’d thought the day had gone exceptionally well. However, just before he arrived home a group of Cindy’s friends were playing in a garden as he passed. “Hi Ethan,” came the call in the childish excitement. He didn’t know it but two of them had witnessed him sleeping and wetting his nappy just after his accident. “Oh hi girls, what are you playing?” He was just being polite. “Mummies and daddies... do you want to be our baby... and we’ll change your nappy.” They didn’t seem any malice behind the invitation, just little girls doing what little girls do but that reference to being a baby really hit home. What was worse, he’d been holding onto a full bladder for most of the afternoon and the shock of the request made him lose control and he stood there, in front of the group of eight year-old girls, flooding his already soaked padding. “Do you wanna play?” One of the girls asked. He was sure they didn’t know what he’d just done but was flushed and walked away with even more of a waddle. He could feel the warm pool of pee sloshing about as he moved. “Can you tell Cindy to come over please?” But Ethan was concentrating on trying not to look like an eleven year-old who’d just filled his undies and trying to contain the swelling material under his shorts. Even though his house was only a couple of streets away, it seemed a long way home. # When he got in all he really wanted to do was go to his room and change but as he entered he saw that mum had company and they were chatting on the sofa, with Cindy reading on the floor. “Hi mum... just going to my room... got some homework...” He made a move for the stairs. “Come and say ‘Hello’ first. This is Mrs Chanthara.” She introduced her guest who looked splendidly Far Eastern with her dark skin and sparkling eyes. “Hello Mrs Chanthara, erm, pleased to meet you.” He really, really wanted to get out of his sloshy nappy but mum had taught him to be polite so knew he couldn’t just run off like a toddler. The guest, in many gold bangles and colourful long sari, was looking at him and he knew she knew he was wearing a sopping wet nappy so tried to distract everyone. “Er, Cindy... your friends are over at the Poulter’s playing in the garden and asked me to let you know... if you wanted to join them.” “Oh, can I mummy please, can I?” She chirped up enthusiastically. “Yes of course sweetheart but don’t go anywhere else, tea will be ready in an hour... OK?” “Thanks mummy,” and ran off to join her friends. “OK mum, I need to change, erm, out of my uniform so...” “Yes of course love, but if you can come down straight after...” She didn’t continue and didn’t expand though he knew it had something to do with Mrs Chanthara. # He hung around in his room for a few moments to see if his mother was coming up to take charge of the change but she was obviously still talking to whoever this Mrs Chanthara was. He slipped off his shorts and was glad to see they had remained dry. However, he could feel the squishiness under his rubber pants so slowly eased them down to reveal his saturated padding. Excess pee had lined the bottom of his pants but luckily the elastic around his legs had prevented any leaks. In the bathroom he tidied everything up and returned to his bedroom. He wondered if he should wear another disposable, although normally his mother would have put him into a fabric nappy. Conversely, he had to see a guest and didn’t think she needed to know he wore a nappy so slipped into a pair of boxers he hadn’t worn for some time. He arrived back in the living room feeling nervous but at least confident his shorts weren’t revealing anything untoward. He needn’t have bothered. “Ethan, this is Mrs Chanthara. Mrs Chanthara and I have been chatting online and she might just have the solution to your wetting problem.” So she knew... does his mother have to tell everyone? He would have liked to have been angry; instead he just blushed in embarrassment... and a small spurt of pee shot into his fresh clean undies. “Now,” his mum started, “Mrs Chanthara had a similar problem with her daughter Dhelli as the one you have.” “Mummmm,” he moaned in humiliation. “Look love, after this morning I think you’ll agree we need to step up proceedings so... Mrs Chanthara is going to hypnotise you.” “But mmmuuummmm.” “It’s not going to hurt and hopefully, in a day or two, you’ll be able to go to school without having to wear a blanket between your legs.” She was making a point but Ethan was still apprehensive. “Hello Ethan. I think you might enjoy this.” It was Mrs Chanthara speaking in gentle melodic tones. Her accent was pleasant on the ear as she seemed to whisper each word. “All you have to do is relax. I know you’re not feeling that way at the moment but... please let me help you.” She sounded sincere but Ethan was still unsure. “All you have to do is, here, lie out on the sofa.” Reluctantly he did as he was told. “There, are you comfy?” He nodded. “OK then, close your eyes... just listen to my voice... and relax.” Her voice had become even quieter but soothing. She gently ran her fingertips over his forehead and through his hair. “Relax, relax, relax...” She instructed him to think sleepy thoughts, empty his head of everything, and slowly count backwards from ten. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, fi... fo...” # tbc #

Yes, families are a little 'complicated' but perhaps this one has something more to it... we shall see And I love you for loving it and hope you continue to enjoy it. Thanks for the comment?

Part 18 Jessica had already filled Peter in with what she’d discovered and both were in agreement that it was something they needed to keep track on to see if it was a regular occurrence. However, she couldn’t understand that if that was the case, how come they’d never had evidence of these nocturnal expeditions before? On that first wet occasion she’d been keen to get her son into a nappy as soon as possible to prevent any serious bedding damage and keep the laundry to an acceptable level. As a result she’d had him in night time nappies now for almost five weeks and daytime disposables since he started school. So how come it had never struck her before just how soaked his nappies had been, especially since the ‘no drinking after 6pm’ rule? When Jessica thought about it she didn’t understand why she’d been so willing to get Ethan into nappies in the first place. It’s true her mother had recommended that should happen but had insisted to make sure he thought it was his choice. To begin with she’d never discussed it with Peter’s parents but when she had, they also thought nappies were a good idea. Perhaps, now knowing her husband’s relationship with nappies this wasn’t a complete surprise. However, even the doctor thought she was correct in the decision that padded protection was a good way of dealing with his temporary problem. Now she worried that pushing her son into wearing thick nappies all the time might have led to some sort of mental turmoil that produced this sleepwalking phenomena. What she was now in a quandary about was - which came first? # “I did it, I did it, I did it.” Doug enthused. Ethan gave him a sly look and smiled at his animated friend. “God, it was fantastic.” Doug was walking with Ethan to school. It was just the two of them so he could speak without worry. “Ah, so, I guess you tried the...” Eeth caught on quickly. “Yes, yes, I didn’t think I’d dare to but... I went to bed early and... God, it was scary but fantastic.” The eleven year-old was nervously excited at what had taken place. “Well done mate... are you wearing it now?” “Hell no, I woke up early to take it off so dad didn’t find out. In fact, I hardly slept at all... I just kept thinking how nervous and scared I was but also... how brave I’d been to wear at home, in my own bedroom.” “I’m pleased for you Doug.” He wasn’t sure why he added this it just seemed a nice thing to say. “Eeth, it felt wonderful. I can’t explain why... or how for that matter... it was just...” “I know, fantastic?” “Yes.” He almost bounced in delight as they carried on the journey to school. # Jessica was on the net searching out the whys and wherefores of children sleepwalking. There was quite a lot on the subject and most revolved around stress. “Well that fits” she thought. Some sites advised not waking up the somnambulist and making sure they’re in a safe environment, others that it is safe to gently direct the walker away from any areas of possible danger and back to bed. Most say that if they wake at all they are unlikely to remember or even know anything about it. She couldn’t find any particular reference to Ethan’s circumstances so that left her wondering if the need to drink the water was what motivated this activity or the desire to be kept in nappies? Could it be linked, might neither of these options be the case, perhaps she would have to consult with a psychiatrist after all? The deeper she thought about it the more questions seemed to arise. For instance, has the revelation of Peter’s own past somehow resurrected itself in their son? What to do if she finds him sleepwalking again? What would happen if he goes walkabout again but without anyone knowing? What if....? Yes the questions without answers just kept on coming. At times Jessica wished she’d never witnessed her son downing a large glass of water before returning to bed in the dead of night. Perhaps it would have been best for the mystery of his super-soaked nappies to remain a mystery. # Doug had never been so animated, well not since he and Mitch discovered Eeth’s secret, so spent an awful lot of time hovering around his supplier in the hope they could speak ‘privately’. When they got a chance of just two of them it was Ethan who asked “Did you use it?” “What? Oh no, I didn’t want to ruin it... I’m hoping to wear it again soon. It’s hidden in the bottom drawer under a bundle of old clothes.” “Well, that’s something else you’ve got to look forward to... it’s a completely different feel when it soaks up all your pee.” “Errmmm, not really sure I want to do that. I just loved the feel last night of it hugging me and then running my hands over it, it, it felt so soft and... fantastic.” “So you keep saying.” Ethan chuckled, caught up in his mate’s fervour. However, he suddenly realised that his friend was saying things that although he’d thought about and experienced, had never said to anyone. The way a nappy hugged, the way it felt to touch, the soft, yielding layers of fabric, the completely different encounter it offered compared to a pair of underpants. Yet here was Doug enthusing on exactly those sensations and what they meant to him... and that was after just one wearing. # As he sat in the last lesson of the day, History, his mind wasn’t really on the ancient kings and battles that had forged his country’s past; he was more interested in the way his soggy disposable squished under his bottom as he tried, but failed, to pay attention. The day long conversation with Doug had set him wondering and became worried that, despite telling everyone he wanted out of wearing a nappy, in fact, it was the opposite. He’d said to his mum he wanted out and hoped her pills would work. He’d told himself it would be better to be out of them but, Doug had painted a different picture. One of his best mates was not only pleased to have worn one (yes only the one nappy) but was deliriously pleased about it, even if a little scared of what his parents might say. His passion had got to Ethan who was worried that that had been the case all along – did he actually desire a nappy? He tried to dismiss the thought, even with the teacher asking questions about the outcome of some battle centuries ago, yet here he was, wriggling about and not being disgusted by the wet lumpy mass his disintegrating disposable had become. On their way home they were joined by Mitch and Gary so Doug didn’t mention his experience, or even refer to it with a knowing look. It was all about Gary being picked for the swim team and Mitch saying how much he liked a girl called Miranda in the year above. Doug did have something to add... he’d been picked for the school football team, so there were congratulations all around. Despite this interesting chat Ethan paid scant attention to what was being said. His head was filled with confusion and contradiction. All the things he’d said and done. All the things others had said he did and all the actual proof of what he hadn’t achieved pointed in one direction... and it had taken Doug to make him self-aware. As he approached home he couldn’t get over his relief that he’d soon be out of his crumpled disposable and mum would have a nice fresh well-padded terry cotton one ready for him to slip into. Of course this had happened many times now but there was no denying the prospect cheered him up as he eagerly climbed the stairs to his bedroom. # Two minutes after he’d arrived in his bedroom Ethan was already stripped down to his saggy protection. The white plastic pants already cast off he looked in the mirror and saw how the extra padding had become fragmented and knobbly but wasn’t surprised seeing as he’d worn it the entire school day. A moment later his mother arrived armed with a pile of washing she planned on putting away but was surprised to see her son already stripped down because she hadn’t heard him come in. “Hi sweetie, that’s a bit of a mess,” she said eyeing the discoloured mass between his legs, “let me put this lot away and I’ll get you sorted OK?” She didn’t like to say but most of what she was carrying was his nappies, fresh and sun-dried though thankfully, not like the tomatoes. It had been ages since she’d had to put away any of Ethan’s normal underwear, other than nappies. Even as she was opening drawers and neatly stashing the thick fabric away, she was thinking how common this had become. “Right love,” she said patting for him to come and sit down next to her on his bed. “I have something I want to say to you.” He hesitated. “Mum, erm, I don’t want to leak on the duvet...” She gently pulled him and stood him between her legs like she used to do when he was a toddler. “Well, last night, you were sleepwalking.” She was serious but Ethan smiled. “You’re joking... aren’t you?” “No love. I saw you in the bathroom and you filled a glass full of water and drank it down in just a couple of gulps...” “No, surely... what... I don’t understand. How could I sleepwalk...?” “Well sweetie, there’s no one more surprised than me but, as I discussed with your father, we were wondering just how come your nappies were as wet as they were when you hardly drank anything.” Ethan looked baffled whilst his mum checked out his lumpy padding. “However, I’m not sure what explains this.” And she ran her hand over the bulky surface of his saggy nappy. “How can I sleepwalk... surely someone would have noticed.” He looked completely flummoxed. Jessica stopped checking his disposable and got back to the main topic. “Well I only discovered this last night because you knocked something over and it broke, which woke me up so...” “But sleepwalking... it doesn’t make sense... does it?” He looked at mum for some sort of reassurance that it made sense to her at least. “Well it does explain a lot sweetheart but it also makes for even more questions.” # Down the road at Doug’s house he found the place empty and couldn’t wait to get his school uniform off and slip back into his special underwear. His elder brothers didn’t get back from school until later. His mum could be home any time, but his dad wouldn’t get back from work for over an hour. It was ideal, stress-free, alone time for him to indulge in his new pastime. Almost at the same time as his mate Eeth was looking in the mirror in his room Doug was happily parading around his bedroom and watching each movement in the mirror behind the door. He patted and smoothed out the soft material, gently tucking and tapping the nice bulge hanging slightly down around his bum. He was excited to run his fingers over the pleasant bump and wondered what it might be like to do as Eeth suggested, and wet himself. His body flushed bright red at that thought. He heard the front door close and his mother shout up asking if he was home. “I’m in my room, erm, doing homework.” He lied “Well come down here I want a word.” She shouted back up the stairs. Doug’s body suddenly ran cold. Was he in trouble? Had his mum somehow found out about the disposable? He was full of nervous apprehension as he quickly stripped out of his nappy carelessly ripping it in the process. Now it wasn’t the pleasurable thing it was only moments ago. It was now something shameful, that he regretted ever having anything to do with and resented Eeth from giving it to him. He threw it in the corner, slipped back into his briefs and shorts and nervously went down to find out what his mum so urgently needed him for. # Jessica wasted no time to reassure her stunned son that he actually did sleepwalk though didn’t see it as harmful. As she changed him from the soggy mass into a dry but well-padded terry nappy and eased up the plastic pants, he seemed a little more content about what he’d been told. However, he questioned her more about how and why such a thing could happen though she didn’t have all the information to satisfy his interrogation. Then again, she didn’t have answers to her own questions. The thing was... this was now normal. She spoke to her eleven year-old son who was just wearing a nappy and plastic pants and it didn’t feel weird. In fact, she didn’t think twice about changing him. There were no reservations, no awkward moments, no recriminations... this was her son and for the moment he happened to need nappies. Where was there a problem? She couldn’t see it. What else was apparent was he didn’t seem that perturbed either. However, she wanted to pursue the ‘pill’ route because it appeared to be working on her daughter. If Cindy went another night without wetting her pull-up then Jessica had decided she could go back to her usual knickers. However, she wondered, how would that leave Ethan, still coming down to breakfast in a soaked nappy and his little sister being a bit clever about being a Big Girl? # “Douglas, have you been hiding things from your family?” Doug’s mother asked pointedly. Doug hadn’t had time to come up with an explanation and stood nervously in front of her wondering just how much she knew... and who told her. “What, what ddddo yyyou mean?” He stammered. “Well I bumped into Mr Gallagher at lunch time and he said you’d made the team.” She burst into a huge proud smile. “Well done love... we’re all proud of you.” This was weird. It was yesterday’s news and he was sure he’d told the family but all that doubt disappeared as his mother swept him up in huge hug. “Why didn’t you tell us?” “Sorry I thought I had.” Then he remembered. Ethan had given him the disposable so was more occupied by that and the ‘news’ must have escaped his mind. “Well I know your dad will be over the moon and I bet he’ll be on the touchline for every match. Oh well done love. Well done.” “Thanks mum.” Guilt swept through his body. He can’t have secrets that people might notice, even if they don’t know what that secret is. “Ffffirst match against Ppppender’s Academy next wwwweek.” He hoped the stuttering and stammering had gone unnoticed and so had his shameful secret. “I think we’ll all be there.” She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry love, I was just so excited by the news... didn’t mean to drag you away from your homework. I better let you get back to that while I make us all some tea, eh? It’ll be ready in half an hour, OK? Oh... and bring your kit down and I’ll give it a thorough wash... can’t have you lining up in a mucky strip now can we?” She chuckled as she moved to the kitchen. “OK, thanks mum,” And tottered back to his room wondering if he could salvage anything from the guiltily ripped disposable. # Whilst all this was going on at Douglas’s house Ethan was working on his own homework and getting more and more frustrated with the maths questions he couldn’t see the point in. “Why letters and not numbers?” were his inner thoughts. Distractedly he rubbed the slippery front of his bulging plastic pants and felt a comforting shiver run through his body. This was happening more and more, if he got stressed or confused or simply found keeping up with his peers a problem, the soft, yet reassuring bulge, even in class, was always there to help relieve any anxiety. He didn’t make any link between that and his sleepwalking, although his mother was wondering if his acceptance of nappies might have some bearing on these night time excursions. Jessica was also having a bit of a mental stocktake of her own. Her daughter had to briefly wear nappies but seemed to be through that ‘accident’ stage now. However, the little minx perhaps took too much delight in her brother wearing a nappy. Meanwhile, her eleven year-old son was now more or less permanently wearing protection 24/7, whilst she’d cajoled her husband, and not in the least bit reluctantly, back to wearing a nappy for her sexual pleasure. What exactly was it with her family and nappies? # tbc #

Part 17 Something about the visit had made Ethan think. Granny Lynd had implied, though of course not said, that she thought he enjoyed nappies... like his father had. He’d denied it of course, to her and to himself (and to anyone else who might have asked), but the truth was, these days he didn’t mind them. He was used to their soft, comforting hug and was even wearing them to school with no hint of embarrassment. Possibly because, apart from his friends (and the Head Boy), no one else appeared to know. In fact, since meeting with Tajpaul Chowdhry so many things had changed... in his head at least. It was as if this tall, muscular, friendly Asian boy (though he was hardly a boy) alone had lifted the worries of an eleven year-old suffering from anxiety and taken it on himself. He’d relieved Ethan of his school worries and despite the fact he was still wetting at night and quite often in class, where his disposable did the work of keeping things tidy and discreet, he was doing fine. Why now, as the drive back home seemed to be taking even longer than the journey there, had his mind dwelt on that ‘nappy’ fact? When his mum had asked both Cindy and himself if they wanted to be out of nappies permanently, he’d said YES and yet, he wet last night and wet (and knowingly wet) at his grandparent’s house and thought nothing of it. He was sitting in the back of the car, wearing a thick, granny produced nappy, which hugged him tightly AND was oddly comfortingly, so what did he want? Cindy was dozing next to him and her dress had rode up to reveal her dry princess pull-up. He shuffled about also dry but wondered whether to wet or not, surely that couldn’t be right? He was actually thinking of wetting his nappy when all he had to do was ask his dad to stop at the earliest opportunity and he could relieve himself in the way an eleven year-old should. Perhaps that pill his mother had given him was working, after all, he hadn’t thought about making it to the toilet for a few weeks now. He decided that the pills would really focus his mind and though he didn’t mind wearing a nappy, it would no doubt be for the best if he didn’t. Just as he’d come to this conclusion to try his best to make it to the loo his brain was engulfed by the image of seeing his father trotting along the landing wearing a thick nappy and shiny plastic pants. Perhaps he’d never grow out of it... Nappypants indeed! # As she was getting him ready for bed Jessica had been quite impressed with the nappy her mother-in-law had fitted on Ethan. “That looks comfy.” She suggested whilst unpinning him and at the same time sorting out his night time terry nappy. “Yes it was, erm, very comfy...” he babbled on a bit more about the plastic pants and such but his mother wasn’t listening. She thought the way the fabric slipped between her fingers was quite sensual and was busy thinking how she could incorporate that into her sex... erm... love making. Cindy had gone straight to bed when they got home having dozed in the car. She was pleased to wear her dry princess pull-up instead of the nappy she’d had to wear the last few nights. She opened her mouth as mummy popped in the ‘pill’ and had a small glass of milk to help it down. “Mummy, I’ll be a Big Girl tomorrow.” She sleepily hoped as her head hit the pillow. “Sweetie, you’re a Big Girl now... and such a clever one. Now settle down as it’s been a long day... so don’t you worry about a thing. Mummy loves her sweet princess. Nighty-night.” All the last few words were lost as Cindy immediately dropped off and didn’t hear any of it. It was just past 9pm when Ethan was wrapped and ready and like his sister, a small glass of milk helped him take the ‘pill’. “Now love I don’t want you to get upset if in the morning your nappy is soaked.” She was trying to give him some gentle encouragement. “But try to go to the toilet if you get the urge... I think you can do it and so does your father.” That was the wrong thing to say because the image of his dad wearing a nappy was suddenly thrust to the forefront of his brain and a spurt of pee christened the fresh but thirsty fabric she’d just put him in. He tried not to let it show and immediately kissed her goodnight, turned over, pulled up the covers, hoping he’d get some sleep and remain relatively dry... although this was a bad start. # Once back downstairs Jessica went into full flirt mode; the free spirit of her in-laws, the easy chat and laughter, the joy and natural surroundings of the countryside, all seemed to conspire to make her aroused. She teased and cajoled her husband, kissing and caressing where and whenever she could. Alas for her, that daytime free-spirit chat had put too much guilt on Peter’s shoulders and he hated that his kids and wife now knew more about his childhood nappies than he’d ever hoped they would. However, Jessica was a woman who didn’t give up easily and managed to turn that shame into something positive and by 11pm they were romping around the bedroom with Peter once again wearing his nappy and glossy plastic pants. His refusal to play along capitulated under his wife’s knowing looks and cheeky dares. In truth, he’d enjoyed their fetishistic romp whilst wearing a nappy more than he would like to admit. His wife knew. There was no doubt about it, sex had a different dimension and although they’d agreed it should be kept for special occasions only, that didn’t stop them indulging a newfound erotic appetite for much of the night. So, whilst the unlocked closet of their new desires ran rampant, their son’s dreams were filled with doubt... and his nappy with pee. # Monday morning at breakfast Peter had already sleepily gone off to work, whilst Jessica groggily sorted out the children. Once again Cindy woke up dry and was heaped in praise by her mother. Alas, Ethan woke up with the usual well-soaked bundle between his legs, the plastic pants straining to hold the dampness in. Confused by the amount his nappy had expanded but still trying to stay positive. “Don’t worry darling Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Was the baffling sympathetic reassurance offered to her son. Meanwhile, Cindy was looking smug that she’d gone another night without wetting but it looked like her brother, her baby brother, just couldn’t hack it even with the magic pills. “Never mind Eeth,” she wriggled happily in her seat, “you look OK wearing a nappy,” She then whispered so mummy wouldn’t hear. “They suit you.” He sort of grimaced at what she’d just said but for the first time didn’t think it was a dig... was she being honest? He wasn’t sure but just nodded and finished his cereal before going back to his room and getting ready for school. However, this slight comment got him thinking, and it was something that he’d had running around his head since being at his grandparents, was wearing a nappy something he couldn’t avoid? Not only that, had mum, dad, sister and others already become aware of that and it was only he who was late to the party? He was in a strange position, or at least that’s what he thought, he didn’t mind wearing protection but knew it would be better not to. Also, and this was what got him even more confused, up until fairly recently he’d never thought about having to wear a nappy because since he was three or four, he’d never wet the bed. So just what was his body and mind telling him? # He wished he could talk to Mitch about it, or, had he worn the disposable maybe Doug, but other than the doctor (and that wasn’t going to happen), he was left wondering who he could discuss things with. Back in class and back wearing padding he wondered if anyone else in school had the same dilemma. He looked around in each lesson and in the playground at break time to see if there was any evidence on anyone. If there was he couldn’t detect it. However, what he had noticed was that all the senior boys who were prefects were often bombarded by younger pupils at break time with questions or wanting advice. Head Boy Tajpaul Chowdhry had not lied when he said that there was no bullying allowed and senior scholars were encouraged to help the newer, younger group of students. He wondered if Tajpaul might be the one who would have some answers, after all had he not said he needed protection for a while himself. During the lunchtime break Ethan caught the Head Boy’s eye and wondered over to him. “Erm, sir, erm, Tajpaul... could I have a, erm, private word please?” His nervousness meant he could now hardly look the kindly giant in the eye. “Sure Ethan, what can I do for you... you look a bit worried.” The Head Boy went into helpful mode as his father had taught him many years ago. “Listen before speaking” had been the old man’s advice and it had held him in good stead so far. Ethan was pretty pleased his name had been remembered and felt slightly more relaxed as a result. Of course, now he had his attention he had no idea how to broach the subject he wished the Head Boy would help him solve. “Take your time... I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere else except,” he added to hopefully help the boy relax further, “to be in your company.” “Thank you.” Ethan’s nervous voice had almost disappeared. # Eventually, he realised Tajpaul couldn’t read his mind so would have to speak for this to go anywhere. “Erm, you know... you know I still wear erm, protection...” he began hesitantly. “and you said that when you were my age you also wore... padding... ?” He waited for the Head Boy to confirm what had been discussed previously. Tajpaul nodded, though in truth had forgotten this white lie he’d told to make the scared boy he met on that first occasion feel better about himself. Ethan took the nod as confirmation and felt more confident about continuing with his query. “Er, did you like it... you know, wearing them?” He felt both relieved and embarrassed but at least he’d said what he wanted to say. “Well,” Tajpaul started and had to think quickly, “it’s a while back now but I seem to remember that because it was needed... at the time... and I didn’t want to go against my parents, I suppose, yes, I got used to them. But... was very relieved when I was safe enough to get out of them.” The Head Boy hoped this was a satisfactory response because in reality, he had no idea what to say or what the poor confused boy needed as an answer. “Oh... you wanted to be out of them as soon as possible?” Ethan sadly replied. “Er, only when I didn’t need them.” He hoped he hadn’t said anything to upset him. Of course Ethan was hoping for a positive endorsement that made liking to wear a nappy not a bad thing but, well, perhaps it was. “Sorry Ethan but are you OK? Has someone been having a go at you for wearing a nap, erm, protection?” “No, no, no, I was just wondering.” A smile he hoped said ‘I’m fine’ but wasn’t very convincing and ended up as a grimace briefly crossed his face. “Thank you for speaking to me... bye.” Ethan walked away leaving Tajpaul for the first time completely speechless... and wondering what all that was really about. # As he walked away Doug sidled up and began to apologise for making his quick exit. “Sorry for the other day, you know, running out on you Eeth, I’d lost track of time and...” Ethan was snapped out of his muddle by his friend’s arrival. “Oh hi Doug... mmm... it’s OK... I think I might have scared you.” “No, it wasn’t that,” Doug looked a bit sheepish but shook himself. “Well, yes I was... you seemed so definite it was what I wanted but I wasn’t sure and...” “You thought I could tell you wanted to try one on but then it worried you that if I could tell, then others might as well?” “Yer... erm, how did you know?” Ethan shrugged “Because I feel like that all the time.” “You’re a good mate Eeth, and I do want to try, you know, one at some point but I’m...” “Worried you might like it too much?” Doug shamefully nodded. “Look,” he took a deep breath. “I was scared and hoped no one would ever know but things happened and somehow everyone knew. I thought my world would end but, thanks to you guys that didn’t happen.” He suddenly had a bit of a revelation. “In fact, the more people knew, the less it mattered.” It seemed a moment had just occurred and he was glad his mate was there to witness it. Even if Doug was not aware of that moment as he was still trying to come to terms with admitting he wanted to try a disposable. “Look, whenever you’re ready... or,” Ethan dug into his backpack and secretly transferred one of his spares into Doug’s bag, “you can decide for yourself. How does that sound?” His friend flushed and furtively took a sneaky look around. Once he was sure no one witnessed what had happened he nodded a sort of ‘thanks’. Ethan smiled and both wandered back towards a group of friends for the rest of the break. # When he’d gone to use the school’s toilets Ethan had found them noisy and constantly full so peeing in his nappy seemed a much better alternative. He couldn’t deny that he worried that more people would see his padding and despite coming to terms with it, thought it better not to advertise that fact. So, that meant each time he arrived home he was in dire need of a change. Mum was keen to help him out of the soggy disposable and into a nice dry fabric nappy. There were always plenty piled up in his room so she would just come in and without really thinking or asking, strip him and get him changed. He had never thought it was peculiar that at eleven years-old he should still be being changed by his mum. He could manage the disposable OK but thought that a terry nappy with pins and soaker pads needed his mum to make sure it was fitted correctly. He assumed that’s how it worked - hadn’t both his grannies taken charge and done the same? After finishing his homework Ethan came downstairs for the family meal before settling in front of the TV. His thick nappy and plastic pants could be seen down the leg of his shorts but whilst at home this never bothered him. The problem he had now was that every time his dad was around he was checking for similar (Nappypant) signs but didn’t dare bring up what he’d seen. At bedtime Cindy was allowed to wear just her nightie, whereas Ethan was transferred to a well-padded fabric nappy as he’d wet the one mum had fitted when he got home. He remembered his mother’s words at the beginning of all this - You’re being given the choice of acting like an eleven year-old and making your own decisions or being treated as a little boy who needs others to make the decisions for him. He wasn’t sure if this was true, as from the beginning she’d supervised his changes and was only fairly recently that he’d been allowed to wear, and change, his own disposable. The fact was, he actually didn’t mind mum taking on the responsibility and at times, like when he’d crapped his nappy, was truly thankful he had a mother who was so involved and cared. # CRASHHH The noise woke up Jessica. Automatically she looked at the clock - 2.34 - but her mind suddenly switched to her children and if they were alright. Her husband hadn’t moved, he was in deep sleep and suspected waking him up would take too much time but she wasn’t going to hang around. What if her kids were in danger? She swung her legs out of bed and opened the bedroom door leading to the landing. Cindy’s door was closed but she could tell from the night-light in the bathroom that door was open and so was Ethan’s. Relief ran through her body as she realised the poor lad must have been trying to make it to the loo and had accidentally knocked something over. With her heartbeat settling down she wondered to the door to see if he needed any help. The night-light was bright enough to reveal Ethan standing at the sink with a huge glass of water. She almost approached him but could see he’d knocked a few items off the cabinet and a pottery dish they used for soap lay broken on the floor. “Ethan, Ethan,” she quietly enquired, “are you OK sweetie?” but got no response. What she saw was Ethan gulping down an entire glass of water and then blearily return to his room. “Ethan,” Jessica called a little louder but still got no reaction. In fact, she could tell he was more or less sleep-walking and probably quite unaware of what he was doing. She watched as he shuffled past, his crinkly plastic pants reflecting the little light coming from the bathroom before climbing back under his covers. Once she saw he was back in bed but before retiring to her room she set about clearing up the mess so no one would be standing on broken shards. Peter had made no move throughout the entire proceedings. Not surprising really as both needed to catch up on their sleep. # A completely sodden Ethan arrived at the breakfast table. He looked a bit sheepish but his mum nodded and told him not to worry now she thought she knew what was happening to cause his morning soggy mass. He simply shrugged having no idea what she knew. However, what she didn’t know was how long this had been going on for and whether it’s something that began before the start of school? This was another level she wasn’t sure she knew how to deal with but at least it explained, despite the ban on drinks after 6pm, where all the liquid in his nappy was coming from. She would go online and find out if this was normal behaviour, or something she needed a psychiatrist to help sort out. Meanwhile, another perfectly dry night had accompanied Cindy’s arrival at the kitchen table in her pristine nightie and she put a consoling hand on her brother’s shoulder. She simply said, “Poor you.” His plastic pants were again doing a fantastic job of holding the sagging mass of material in place. He squished in his seat “Erm, thanks?” and shovelled in another spoonful of Rice Krispies. # tbc #

Embarrassment doesn't quite cover it but... just who wears the nappies in this household now?