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Les Lea

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  1. What a lovely comment (as are they all) but it's really nice when a story of mine hits home to one of its readers. Many, many thanks to all
  2. Confession - Update Part 1 My ‘little life’ was not going quite as planned. Other thoughts and desires were entering my head and although I’d kept them buried deep down for as long as possible, things were beginning to build up. It was a hot, late September day when it all happened. I was walking in the park, I’d just been ‘relieved’ of my position at the call centre (for telling a particularly annoying caller to go f**k herself) and though I was glad to be rid of that hive they called an office, I was now without any work. Therefore, although I might have been elated to begin with, the truth of my circumstances soon dawned and I began to feel a bit vulnerable about my future employment prospects because the jobs market was at an all-time low. As there was nothing I could do about it at that moment, I decided to enjoy what could have been the last sunny day of summer, by taking in the enjoyable weather and having a relaxing sunbathe in the park. It was fairly busy. Loads of people seemed to have thought the same and the grassy slopes were an array of people lying out, eating lunch, reading or chatting with friends. Set further back there were some trees where the numbers of sun-worshippers appeared less, I suppose the shade not helping with a late tan. However, as I searched for a bit of space I noticed one guy lying stretched out in the grass, with his head resting on a pile of rags and wearing nothing but what looked like a grubby, cream colored diaper cover. Don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t filthy dirty and covered in piss stains and such, no, to my eye, it was obviously old and had been worn for quite some time and even though the crotch held a reasonably sized bulge, the actual leg holes were loose and a bit frayed. The man looked to be in his late 40s early 50s, receding grey/ginger hair on his head but a fair amount on the rest of his body. He was slim and to me seemed in pretty good nick for his age. I may be 21 but I know what I like (I told you other thoughts and desires were now occupying my head) and the overall package that this man presented was definitely worth taking another look. I settled down just a few feet away from him so I could watch him snoozing under the tree and, if I’m being honest, to see if I could catch a glimpse of the man’s cock up the leg of his unconventional underwear. *** I’d been watching him dozing for a few minutes when he woke up; propped himself up on his elbows and just gazed at me with a quizzical look on his face. I didn’t need the sun because I felt myself turning beetroot red with embarrassment as I stared back at him. “Hi.” Was all I could muster in way of conversation and even then, much to my shame, I immediately stared back at his crotch and saw a little ripple of movement under the cotton fabric. “Hi,” he replied, “… enjoying the… weather?” With the emphasis on ‘weather’, I knew that wasn’t actually what he was really asking. I felt a bit emboldened by the fact that he was talking to me so I carried on. “Yes, I’ve had such a crappy day… that the… er… weather… and the… erm… sights,” and I looked back briefly at his underwear, which again gave a little pulse, “have lifted my spirits a bit.” I paused for a moment before adding, “Thank you.” He smiled and we got into conversation. I told him about the job or lack of it now. My annoyance at stupid people who would phone up with the most ridiculous questions or complaints and how heartily sick I was of being nice to folk who didn’t deserve to own a phone. Yes, I’m afraid Tony (he had introduced himself by then) got all my simmering resentment and listened to me berate a world for no other reason than I was in a bad mood. He took it well. Even occasionally saying something positive in my rage and making me feel good again. The more he listened, the more I liked him. He seemed genuine and supportive and, more importantly, didn’t seem to worry that I spent most of my time raging against the world while looking at his crotch. His package had filled out the front of his underwear quite a bit since we’d started our conversation but his dick, much to my disappointment, had not shown itself down the leg hole. *** Once I’d calmed down a little from my tirade he suggested that what I needed was a drink. I agreed but told him as money was going to be in short supply from now on I’d better pass. He shook his head and said that he’d get them if I wanted one and, at that moment, a cold beer was just what I needed. He stood up, and surprisingly, looked even better once erect, his diaper cover, I could now tell, actually did cover a thin disposable diaper, which I noticed when the top suddenly revealed itself. The whole thing was hanging tightly onto his hips but loose around the leg so that the bulge was still impressively present. The bunch of rags he’d been resting his head on turned out to be a really tatty blue t-shirt and some very well worn, baggy camo shorts. He slipped them on quickly and the shorts hung on his hips exposing a good deal of his diaper waistband, which despite his age, made him look hot. I followed him as we walked for about 10 minutes. We’d passed a couple of bars but I thought he might have a favorite that he wanted to go to. Shortly we arrived at a door between two stores, a grocery on one side and a baby’s clothes shop on the other, he unlocked it and I followed him inside, up a flight of stairs and into a very nice living room. “Make yourself at home,” he said throwing his keys into a ceramic dish by the door, “I’ll get us a drink.” The room was not what I expected, not that I had expected to be taken to his home, but, on just meeting the scruffy man I would not have thought his taste in furniture and art (yes artwork was all over the place) would be like this… it just didn’t seem to fit. After the walk in the heat to his place I was sweating like the proverbial pig and when he returned with a cold bottle of Bud for me he was back to wearing just his underwear. “You look hot.” He left the word ‘hot’ hanging in that air for me to take whichever way I wanted and I noticed that the look in his eye was of more than just a passing interest. “Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable if you take off some of your clothes?” The question… slash… suggestion was just daring me for a response. So, as I removed my jacket he said that as I’d been looking at him in his pants all day, maybe I should let him view mine. I loved his cheeky, flirty way and thought… why not… I felt I needed a bit of a diversion from worrying about work. I took a sip from the cold bottle of beer then began to strip. He watched as I slid out of my work clothes and soon appeared before him dressed, like him, in just my briefs… white Hanes if you want to know. I was delighted to see the front of his pants throb and tent out his own battered undies. I jokingly gave him a twirl and he just smiled and grabbed his cock. I think he was trying to control it in some way but now it was peaking and growing down the leg hole. “Looks like someone’s pleased to see you,” he smiled. *** Things were happening fast, and as I took another slug from my bottle, he removed his pants and was standing in just a thin disposable. It actually fitted him quite tightly; it was the cover that had been sagging so now he looked even hotter. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said as I took in the revelation, “but it’s one of the many things I like to wear.” He was obviously waiting for some kind of response so I walked up and began to stroke the lightly padded material. I’m not sure what he expected my reaction to be but he was clearly enjoying my appreciation of his diaper. “So, this doesn’t freak you out?” He said between moans of pleasure. “No.” I carried on gently moving my hands around and behind his soft, rather silky, tight diaper. “I have some of my own… and plastic pants.” “Wow… what are the chances…” He pulled down my briefs and I stood naked in front of him. “Mmmm… I think we should put you in something … different.” He opened a draw and pulled out a huge square of material. “Lie down on the floor… let’s get you properly dressed.” *** I was hard as nails but that didn’t seem to concern him as he quickly pinned me into a huge diaper. Compared to him in his tight fitting disposable I looked like a big baby in my bulging cloth protection, whereas he looked like a slim athlete. He wasn’t finished. From another draw he produced a huge pair of multi-colored plastic pants with a teddy bear motif all over them and slipped them over it all. The transformation from office boy to baby boy couldn’t have been performed any quicker and, as I caught sight of myself in many of the reflecting surfaces, I was suddenly catapulted back to those happy days of me and my little brother. I really was incredibly happy by this weird chance encounter and the way it had weirdly turned out. Perhaps my luck was changing. My rampant cock had been more or less silenced by the bulk of what I was wearing. Access to it wasn’t easy and Tony’s focus was on how fantastic I looked; admiring my slim body, fondling, stroking and generally touching my ‘new look’. He was all praise. That took me back to the time that dad and mom had praised me for coming up with the idea of wearing the same as my little brother to help stop him wetting the bed. Shows how much I craved praise as I suddenly wanted to please this stranger as much as possible. *** He took out his phone and filmed me walking (well waddling actually) and crawling around the room. He was enjoying the spectacle and I was enjoying being back to a stage that I had really loved, a little kid with no responsibilities. If the grown up wanted to take photos of me then that’s what he’d do… I had no say in the matter. I had so readily given myself over to having a ‘daddy’ who would make all those kind of decisions and all I had to do was be cute. He took me to his bedroom and had me lay out on his bed. There he stripped me down and he looked me in the eye. “You look terrific in a diaper” Then he asked quietly but seriously. “Would you mind if we took it a bit further?” *** I wasn’t sure what he had in mind but I loved all this attention so willingly nodded. “OK… but next time, say please.” “Mmmm please.” I echoed. “Good… but now as a toddler might say it.” I thought for a second and even though I was lying naked on his bed, my dick was hard and my head was full of wonderful thoughts I said “Pwwweeease.” He smiled and asked “Who’s a good boy?” as he headed off into the bathroom. Minutes later he arrived back with a bowl of hot water, shaving brush, foam and a cut-throat razor. He produced a pair of scissors and began to cut my pubes and in truth I can’t pretend I wasn’t getting a little anxious at that moment. He saw that worried look on my face and went to another draw and pulled out a pacifier, which he slipped into my mouth. As I sucked I began to relax and the foam covered shaving brush felt really nice as he painted my groin ready for the final act. I was so relaxed that even the sight of a very sharp cut-throat razor didn’t alarm me and pretty soon all the hair on that particular part of my body was gone. He flipped me over and did the same to my bum. That brush being worked in was driving me nuts and I could feel myself riding the mattress aiming for release. That wasn’t going to happen as he told me to stop moving as he applied the razor to my cheeks. I was well aware that one false move and there could be blood everywhere. I stopped my wriggling and let him concentrate on removing any last remnants of my meagrely hirsute body. *** Once this part of the operation was over he lathered me in baby oil and I couldn’t believe what a difference to my look being without pubes would make. Once he was sure he’d added enough oil to prevent razor burns, he applied tons of baby powder. It was like a cloud hanging in the bedroom as we laughed and joked as he sprayed and rubbed it all over my recently shaved body. Even though I now looked like a little pre-pubescent toddler, my cock was aggressively pointing right at him but he just ignored it. From a draw under his bed he pulled out another piece of cloth, it was a square of terry towelling, which he shaped into a diaper and tightly fastened me in. My dick, now pressed firmly against my body was of little consequence as he retrieved the plastic pants from earlier and slipped them over it all. “God… you look so damn good.” He declared as he stroked my diaper and smiled with admiration. “You… are just… ideal.” He was pleased and his touch was both tender and erotic. He went to the kitchen and returned with another bottle, although this time it was a baby’s bottle full of milk. He removed the paci that I’d been unashamedly sucking on since he’d popped it between my lips and I couldn’t help but be thankful to the man spending so much time with me. After the morning I’d had, it was nice to know I was wanted, even though I wasn’t too sure what I was wanted for. There was no hint that he wanted sex, in fact, he seemed to be avoiding that even though I’d given every hint that I wouldn’t mind… should he have designs that way. However, he sat down, pulled me into his lap (he was still just wearing his tight-fitting disposable) and started feeding me the milk. It had been a while since I’d been fed that way and it took a couple of goes to get the rhythm right. Once I’d got the hang of it the warm fluid was wonderful; the warm embrace of my ‘daddy’ was fantastic, the comfort of my diaper was brilliant and as he gently rocked as I fed, my eyes slowly closed and I felt myself drifting off to sleep. *** tbc
  3. Confession I suppose this is a sort of confession. I suppose it’s something I feel a little bit guilty about… although I’m not sure why. It’s something I like to do, because it makes me feel good and… I suppose… makes me feel sexy… even though, to most people, that’s the last thing it would do. OK. OK. I’m just going to say it out loud and then … well… it’s out there and you can mock or call me names as much as you like. Hell, over the years and in my confusion I’ve called myself all kinds of things but… it doesn’t stop me doing it. Yes, alright… I’ll stop putting it off and just tell you. But don’t judge me. Well, I suppose you will but… I feel that… well… this is the place I should be able to talk about this… without too much… too many erm… well, problems. I mean, we all have our little secrets don’t we? I’m sure some are worse than mine. I bet some are really weird… yer... weird… but I promise I wont judge you. So, be kind. I really need to get this off my chest even though I don’t know why and after all… isn’t the motto of this group… this forum… “If it feels good, do it”? A bit like the sportswear brand Nike “Just do it”. OK. OK. Sorry, sorry… OK... I’m just waffling now. Here goes. I like to wear… erm… I find it comforting to wear… under my jeans, or suit, or in bed… a pair of… don’t be shocked… erm… a diaper and a pair of plastic pants. *** Perhaps some of you want to know where my love of these items comes from. I’m sure everyone has their own starting point for this type of thing. The moment when they realised… ‘POW’… that precise moment in time when it all started. I remember reading about an older man who could tell you the moment, and the occasion, that he became obsessed with men. As a kid he was watching a Tarzan programme on TV and he realised he was jealous of the boy Tarzan was looking after. Tarzan; all muscles and all but naked body in a loincloth had a young boy with him dressed pretty much the same… he desperately wanted to be that boy. Since that TV programme he’d become obsessed about finding his own Tarzan character; big, strong, in charge but, as he said, it gets more and more difficult as you get older. He’s now middle-aged and, playing a little defenceless little boy in need of protection, is getting more and more difficult. Not that that is how I see myself. No. I don’t see myself as a little lad. Hell NO, what are you thinking? Although I can tell you when this obsession started and it was down to a little boy… my younger brother. *** As kids we shared the same bed. Well, when he was old enough to sleep away from my parents he ended up sharing my bed. He was 3 at the time and I was 7. As a grown-up 7 year-old I didn’t really want to be sharing my bed with anyone, least of all my little brother who I wasn’t convinced was toilet trained. In fact he was very slow in getting to use the potty and mum kept him in training pants during the day, and at night she’d slip a pair of plastic pants over them for added protection. One night, when he was 4 years old, mum had said that he didn’t need the training pants anymore as he’d had dry nights for several months. Like me he slept in just his pajamas and yes, that night, he wet the bed. Now, I was sleeping next to him and to be suddenly awakened by a wet patch took me by surprise and disgust and I literally kicked the little bugger out of the bed. He landed on the floor with a crash and banged his head on the bedside table, which caused a cut and he started crying. I panicked as mum and dad came to my room to see what the commotion was all about. Mum picked up my little brother and stared daggers at me for hurting her little baby, while dad grabbed my arm and pulled me from the damp bed. I tried to explain that he’d wet the bed and I hadn’t meant to hurt him but my dad did something he’d never done before. He put me over his knee and gave me a spanking. Never in all my 8 years had dad said so much as a harsh word to me let alone raised his hand, but over his knee he gave me such a hard hand spanking that my little cotton pajamas offered no protection and my bottom felt every fierce smack. By the end I was weeping more than my little brother, my bottom hurt and stung but my father told me to stand in the corner of the room with my hands on my head… I couldn’t even rub the pain away. As I stood there crying, and in shock, dad flipped the mattress and changed the bedding. He seemed to take ages and all I could do was sob in the corner with a stinging red bum and regretting ever having a pissy little brother. When he’d finished he called me over to him. He was sat on the bed and I feared I was in for another spanking but I wasn’t. He pulled me into his warm manly chest and gave me a cuddle. He kissed my head and held me in a comforting way until my sobbing had quietened down then he spoke to me in his usual, soft and mild tones about… responsibility. He told me about my responsibility to my brother… that when he or my mum were not around, I was in charge and I should be looking out for him; making sure he didn’t hurt himself or get into any trouble. He explained how he and my mum were relying on me to be a good brother, a thoughtful brother, a protecting brother… and all in all… I was made to feel I had let them down, but more importantly, I’d let myself down by this one act of nastiness. Dad hugged me and put me back into bed with a kiss and I slept on my front as my bum still smarted from the spanking. My little brother spent the night with mum and dad and, after thinking about my situation and what dad had said, I eventually managed to get some sleep. The following day David, my little brother, had quite a bruise on his forehead together with a small scratch. I really did feel guilty so apologised to him before I went off to school though didn’t know what to expect when I got home. Sleeping arrangements were the same, I went to bed and David was there only this time he was back in his plastic pants. I cuddled him that night, I wanted him to know that I was his older brother who would protect him and not harm him, and he scooted up to lie against my chest as I wrapped my arms around him. That was the moment… the ‘POW’ moment I was telling you about. The moment when I fell for a sensation and my life changed quite a bit. *** My pajamas were very thin and so were David’s and I could feel the thickness of the diaper and plastic pants through the material. As he snuggled up closer the back of his pajamas came down and mine had also ridden up a bit so, some of my hip came into contact with his plastic pants. I liked the feeling. As he slept I pulled down his pajama bottoms and had him sleep tightly up against me and I just loved his hot little body, his thickly padded butt and his shiny plastic pants rubbing up against my naked skin. I’m sure he had no idea what was going on, and in all truth, neither did I, but I do know that we innocently slept that way for many months. I often wondered if he ever wondered why he always woke up with his pajama bottoms around his ankles but nothing was ever said. We tried on several occasions to let David sleep without the protection and he’d go a couple of days dry before he’d have another accident and mum would put him back into the protective padding. This frustrated little David a lot and visits to the doctor and several help-features later, we still couldn’t stop him from his involuntary pissing. He seemed to stay dry when he was in all his protection but as soon as we let him out of it, he peed the bed. He was getting one angry little chap. He hated being like he was and, because he was still in his diaper or training pants, I think he was getting a ribbing from his friends at pre-school. Even at that age kids can be so cruel but he’d refused to wear those trainer or plastic pants to bed and started to wet even more regularly. No one at his school wore them, he argued in his boyish petulance, so why should he? He was determined that he wasn’t going to wear those ‘baby’ pants any more. We sympathised but every morning we’d both wake up to a soaked bed. The rubber sheet we both now slept on helped a bit but he still flowed almost every night. Mum would be very forceful with him and dress him for bed, making sure his night time diaper and plastic pants were in place but as soon as she left the bedroom he’d angrily remove them and chuck them in the corner. When I came to bed a little later I’d see them and, thinking about what dad had said about being responsible and David’s protector, would pick them up and try to put them back on his sleeping little body. However, one night, instead of re-dressing David, I struggled to get into them myself. They were very tight and clung to me like another skin. It was incredible… I loved the feel. I loved the way the bulkiness made me... I suppose… excited… as I’d gently stroke the soft malleable plastic material against my body. I didn’t realise it was sexual - all I knew was that I liked the feeling it gave me. This was even better than rubbing up against my little brother and I had no idea why it had taken me so long to undertake this most obvious of steps. *** The following morning we woke to another wet bed, I had forgotten the fact that I was wearing David’s diaper and plastic pants and so when mum came in, she saw me in them. At first she looked a bit surprised and then just nodded to me. At breakfast I was worried about what mum would say to dad but I was amazed. Mum said that I had hit upon a fantastic idea. She had read that a sibling, which I gathered was me, might set a better example than anyone else if I wore the same as my brother. At the time I didn’t quite get what she meant but I was just so happy that she had not said anything embarrassing to dad and that I was being held up for some praise. That night, when mum took David up to bed, she asked me to go with her. I was watching TV but with a smile and an encouraging nod from dad, I made my way upstairs. David was once again riling against putting on his night time padded protection but mum asked him - what if I wore the same as him, would he then wear them? She told him that he was not a little boy, and that we all knew it wasn’t his fault. I was shocked… somewhere in all this I suddenly realised what I was being asked to do. Even as an 8 year-old I thought, what I did in the privacy of my own bed and liked, was not necessarily what I wanted to be taken as the natural course of things. After all, I was a lot older than David; I was grown up for heaven’s sake. I hadn’t worn a diaper since I was 2. I was just about to voice these concerns when she told David that it was all my idea and that both she and dad were proud that I loved my little brother so much I was prepared to do this for him. She said that I was the best brother in the world and David should know just how much his older brother was trying to help him with his slight problem. She produced a new, slightly larger diaper like David’s and a pair of plastic pants and asked me to put them on. So, caught off guard by this turn of events and knowing I had no way out of it, I stripped off in front of mum and David and let her fasten me into them and the new, slightly larger and more rubbery pair of plastic pants, before pulling my pajamas over it all. I felt huge… if well protected. Seeing me like this David didn’t even try and argue, he let my mum dress him the same and with no more fuss kissed him a more relaxed goodnight. I was on my way back downstairs to watch TV and … well I don’t know what… possibly to try and talk myself out of the situation… when David called me back and asked me to come to bed with him there and then. I was about to argue but mum said what a good idea it was and I knew I was beaten. Even dad came into the room and kissed us both goodnight, he gave me a huge hug and said “Thanks” and at that moment I knew things would never be the same. I went through this nightly ritual for as long as I shared a bed with David, a further two years. Some times he’d go forever without getting wet as long as he had his protection on. When we tried to take him out of them he inevitably wet the bed. However, I had grown used to my nocturnal mode of dress and told mum I didn’t mind sleeping that way if it helped. I was happy and I suppose enjoying my first ‘fetish’, although at the time I had no idea that such a word existed but I suppose, even at that age, I knew it was nothing to shout about as I hadn’t told anyone how much I liked wearing all that stuff. *** Eventually, dad got a new job and we moved. In the new house we had a room each and in many ways I was sad to lose the comfort of my younger brother sleeping next to me, though at the time I think I was really made up about having so much space to myself. The strange thing was… David stopped wetting himself. Now he had his own room he just grew in confidence and his wetting stopped. Not gradually, but overnight… he pulled off his protection on that first night in his new single bed and never put them back on. Things changed for me as well. I had more privacy but mum, had stopped buying plastic pants and stuff to fit me, because she was able to stop buying those things altogether. However, I kept my diapers and plastic pants and occasionally would just pull on those very tight fitting stretched slippery pants and wear them in bed. I’m not clever or academic so I didn’t go to college but found a job locally just a week after my 18th birthday. On my first pay day I went out to the drugstore and quite openly bought a couple of new pairs of plastic pants and adult diapers and have been doing so, on and off, ever since. I’m 20 now and still live at home with mum, dad and my brother and it’s great, I have as much freedom as I need. I’m not sure if mum knows what I do. I don’t leave ‘evidence’ around the house but I did once notice that the draw I kept them in had been opened. I assumed it was mum putting away my ironed clothes but I never asked and she never said if this was the case. So, everything is fine. I wear my diapers and plastic pants for comfort, for memories and, well, because I like to. My job doesn’t pay a fortune so I’m not able to wear them 24/7 but at night, when I’m feeling that way out, there is simply nothing better than getting well-padded; slip on my diaper, some soft plastic pants and drift off to an amazingly comfortable sleep. I think I must have been in denial in the beginning because in truth, I do feel like a little boy in need of protection when I wear them. I have a footed onesie (a Christmas present from my parents would you believe), a bottle and a pacifier (which I bought myself) for when I feel the need and I just love to regress, even for a little while, back to when I shared the bed with my little brother. I dream of those times regularly and I always wake up happy and relaxed, even if I happen to have wet myself in the night, which, unintentionally, I occasionally do. I adore my thick protection. I enjoy the sensation of my plastic pants. I enjoy my bed being dry even when I’m not. Perhaps, in the future, I’ll get a daddy who wants to join me on these adventures, maybe even coming up with a few ideas of his own. Until then, I love my occasional ‘little’ life. **** tbc
  4. Part 8 Final Part I was still only wearing the disposable and popper rubber pants that Dada Peak had put me in as I wondered down to the kitchen. As usual, Gwyneth was typing away at her laptop with a huge mug of coffee not far from her grasp. My bowl was set out with a choice of cereal boxes arranged for my selection. The biggest surprise was that I was dry, I hadn’t woken up dry for what seemed like ages but, well, wonders will never cease. “Morning sweetie,” She said with a smile in her voice but without really looking up from the screen, “What would you like for breakfast?” “Morning, er, it’s OK I’ll just have some of these,” I replied as I emptied some Crunchy Nuts into my animal bowl. “Did you have a good time at Pauly’s… I bet you had a great time…?” I swallowed a huge mouthful and made an enthusiastic “Mmmming” sound that I hoped indicated it had been fun. She looked up then and said “Well, you can tell me all about it and then I’ll tell you all my news.” She smiled and then added, as if it was an afterthought, “Oh… and we need to go into town today to see Mr Benson.” I nodded but wondered why we had to go and see the family lawyer but, as it would not really concern me (nothing to do with Mr Benson ever did), I assumed dad or mom must need some legal document or advice. * I was quite animated as I told Gwyneth about my day. About the fabulous home that was like an adventure playground. Every toy, every plushie, every, well everything a boy could possibly want, he had and we had a great time playing together. I had been a bit disappointed that there had been no ‘others’ there but because we had loads to play with, and Dada Peak was full of games and ideas, the lack of any more boys charging around wasn’t an issue. Out in the garden was a little pool that we played in for most of the hot afternoon, having fun using his WaterBlaster and Supersoaker guns to do just that… soak each other. We were running around in our diapers quite freely to begin with but by the end our thick diapers had proved themselves to be Superabsorbers and had swelled to such an extent that running became impossible. Lying next to each other Dada Peak changed us both and I couldn’t help seeing the little thing Pauly wore over his pee-pee (yes I’d started calling it that as well). Dada Peak saw me looking and said that it was just a little plastic protector to keep his boy safe but I could see there was a small lock keeping it in place. He even asked if I wanted to try one but I nervously shook my head and no more was said. Once we were all dry and dressed (my clothes had all got a real soaking so I was only wearing a thick diaper) we had a fantastic meal , which was more like a party, all his stuffed animals were sat at the table and we chatted with them as we ate everything that Dada Peak had prepared. After that we were too stuffed to run around so after a bit of TV, and as it was getting late, were both given a bottle and put into separate cribs. I thought I wasn’t tired so was provided with some toys but pretty soon I fell asleep and had that awful dream. * I was worried about telling Gwyneth anything regarding my nightmare in case she was angry with me for using her laptop without permission but I thought Dada Peak might say something so I’d better mention it. As I began to tell her she said that Dada Peak had said something about me crying in my sleep but hadn’t told her what had caused it. He didn’t know but I explained it the best I could and where I’d seen the images. After I’d told her everything she had a frown on her face and was shaking her head in disapproval. “Well, perhaps that will teach a little boy for snooping around in things he shouldn’t.” “I’m sorry,” I said in a quiet chastened voice. I couldn’t face her reprimand just then so I looked at my empty bowl and hoped she wouldn’t be too angry at me. “I suppose that’s taught you a lesson…” I just nodded still not daring to look up. “Perhaps you’ll talk to me first before you go exploring?” Again I just nodded and wriggled uncomfortably in my rapidly flooding diaper. “OK,” she said getting up from the table, “I suppose no harm is done just a bit of a fright but,” and she was being quite intense, “there are people out there who are not nice to little boys like you and we have to be aware of them.” My body trembled at the thought and I messed as well as wet myself. Just as she was about to launch into further warnings I think the smell hit her and she just grabbed my hand and led me upstairs. “C’mon you stinky little tyke, I think we’d better get you changed.” She didn’t seem so mad now so I eagerly ran (quickly waddled) up the bathroom, un-popped the rubber pants, slipped down the diaper and rushed into the shower. * Back in my room Gwyneth had all the things ready except this time it was a pair of briefs, long pants, and a shirt and tie all of which I hadn’t worn for what seemed like ages. “We’re going to see Mr Benson so I don’t think your cartoon t-shirt and shorts are appropriate,” she said matter-of-factly. My bottom lip quivered a little as I didn’t want to wear big boys clothes, I liked my stuff, I even suggested the shortalls as they were fairly grown-up but she wouldn’t have it. I pleaded with her to let me wear a diaper at least and after some thought she agreed. She powdered and slipped me into a disposable then pulled it tightly into place. I asked her if I could wear the pink plastic pants as they would go with the tie she’d picked out for me to wear. A smile spread across her face as she reluctantly agreed. Soon I was a big boy on the outside but nice and little on the inside where my slightly padded and crinkly bottom meant I was at my happiest. * As we drove into town Gwyneth told me all the latest news… the main fact being that mom had been offered a position at a University in Korea and, as dad looked like he’d be almost permanently working there, she accepted the job. This meant that, for the near future, and possibly years, they would be living over there. In the meantime, my sister had agreed to house me because our big family house was going to be put up for sale. I was shocked and wondered how all this could happen without any reference to me but then I wiggled about in my thick diaper and realized the reason why. So, this was why we were going to see Mr Benson, to sort out all the legalities of the sale in my parent’s absence. Although I was in shock I was also pleased that I was at least going to be able to stay with Gwyneth, the last few weeks had been the best and I loved being with her. The trouble now was that I never wanted to be a big boy again, even for a couple of hours it was a strain and for some strange reason I began to sniffle, which quite unexpectedly turned into a huge tearful outburst. I couldn’t explain to her why I was in such a state although I suspect she thought the idea of not living at home, surrounded by my things was proving to be too traumatic. I’d just about cried myself out when we arrived at Mr Benson’s office. He was a very officious man and reminded me so much of dad that he quiet scared me. “Good morning Gwyneth,” and shook her hand. “Morning Benjamin,” and shook mine. I was very apprehensive about meeting him as I felt way out of my depth to form any sort of conversation so I just nodded as he offered us both a seat. * Gwyneth and he talked about the sale of the house and agreed that all the furniture was to be put into storage until they returned home. There was quite a bit more legal chatter but I’d tuned out and was counting the diplomas on the wall and then the number of people in the photographs that surrounded us. I wasn’t listening and would much rather have been with Teddy enjoying a roll around the rug in my bedroom. That’s what I was thinking about when I suddenly realized I was being spoken to. “Benjamin. Benjamin.” Mr Benson was looking at me. “Sorry,” I said as I came out of my happy revelry to see a very serious face. “Benjamin, your mother and father had wanted to be here for this but, well, it seems that’s impossible now.” He waved a sheet of paper in my direction. “You have reached the age of eighteen and… you are now legally entitled to a trust fund that was set up by your grandfather when you were born.” He waited until this news sunk in but it didn’t. I had no idea about a trust fund, no one had ever spoken about it and, more to the point, never knew my grandfather as he died when I was just a few months old… so why would he leave me such a thing? I think he could see that this news had come out of the blue and no one had prepared me to receive such information. I looked at Gwyneth for guidance. “Sorry Benjy… er Benjamin I’d forgotten all about it until mom reminded me last night. Whilst you were asleep mom called and told me about the job, dad, house and… well… your trust fund.” I still didn’t grasp what was going on but I knew I was anxious because I felt a spurt of pee fill the front of my diaper. Mr Benson took up the story. “Your paternal grandfather put money into a trust fund for both you and your sister; Gwyneth received hers on her eighteenth so now you also get yours.” He smiled, which looked strange on such a serious face. “You are now, thanks to some clever investments that he also tied in with the fund, worth approximately one point one million,” I think he was expecting some kind of reaction and when one didn’t come he persisted with the news. “Which makes you a very rich teenager.” Both he and Gwyneth were all smiles but all I did was fill my diaper even more. I couldn’t control the flow and I was so glad I’d asked for my pink protecting plastic pants. I still wasn’t completely aware of what all this meant other than they both appeared very happy with the news. Mr Benson pushed some papers my way for me to sign and before too long, and after another shake of hands, we were out in the street and on our way home. * As we aimed for the car Gwyneth could tell from my walk that I was probably wet but, as she hadn’t brought her normal changing bag, told me I’d have to wait until we got home. I didn’t mind although it did feel funny having an expanded diaper under my smart trousers and I began to giggle at the sensation. Back in the car and sitting in a squishy diaper I had to ask. “What just happened?” I was trying to weigh things up but it wasn’t making any sense. “You have inherited a fortune.” She was being serious. “But… erm… I don’t know… erm… but why… I haven’t done anything?” I was unsure how to react and it still seemed stupid that I should suddenly have money. “Because little bro… thankfully… someone thought ahead.” “But I don’t want all that money. What would I do with it?” I mumbled to myself. “I’m not clever like you so, maybe, you should have it.” She could see I was in turmoil and smiled and patted my leg. “Don’t worry about it for the time being, we can sort it out later. The only thing you need to think about is… you can be little for as long as you like now.” Despite the fact that I was dressed in big boy clothes it hadn’t occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to return to being little. In such a relatively short time I’d got so used to the way things were and that I regarded being little as… well… me. It was normal and dressed as I was now was the strange thing. I was desperate to get back home, get out of my long pants, shirt and tie and get changed. Maybe Gwyneth would let me wear that nice green and pink onesie with the rocket on the front. * Once home I was in a hurry to race upstairs and change but Gwyneth called me back and made me sit at the table as she wanted to discuss things with me whilst I was still a ‘big boy’. “Sweetie, I need you to concentrate just for a little while, OK?” Despite my soggy diaper reminding me what I’d done in Mr Benson’s office I nodded as I could see she was serious. “You now have lots of money. Money you can do anything with but perhaps, thinking ahead, you can leave where it is and take some income from it.” She looked to see if I was clear about what she was saying but all I could think about was getting an electric train set and some more toys. I wanted to have some of the things Pauly had… and he had loads of stuff. I knew a million was a lot but the number simply didn’t mean anything to me. Although Gwyneth wanted me to think about the future, all I wanted to do was play and live right now. In the end I think Gwyneth knew she was making very little sense to me as I kept asking if I could now get this or that or something else, which she said I could if I wanted. The previous ‘happy’ look on her face changed to one of concern. She looked into my eyes and asked in a low voice. “Oh baby, you might not want to be little for ever. You might meet someone…” She was having problems and I didn’t understand why. We were going to be living together; she would take care of me, she would use the money as she saw fit, she would keep me… “Sweetheart, things might change…” I wriggled uncomfortable now in my soaked diaper thinking I needed that changing. “I want you to be happy but there are so many things I can see that might get in the way.” “The movie is going ahead and they want me around to advise but, as production doesn’t start for a few of months…” She sighed deeply and then held out her hand. “But, for the time being at least, let’s get you cleaned up and changed.” We walked to the stairs. “My baby brother is all that matters for the moment and he needs a new outfit.” I scrambled the last few stairs and ran to my room. I picked out the onesie as I was pulling down my long pants and shucking off my tie. “My you are keen.” She un-popped my plastic pants and opened up my wet diaper. I giggled as I lay there naked. Seconds later I was lotioned, powdered, diapered and in my brand new onesie. We looked in the mirror. Gwyneth held my hand and I felt the years roll away. I was safe and happy and I loved the reflection of the little boy who was looking so cute. I looked up at her and said: “Thank You Mommy”. ********************************************* The End
  5. Thanks for your comments they are greatly appreciated. ...................................................................................................... Part 7 With no job to worry about I slept right through until Gwyneth came in to wake me. Unfortunately my diaper couldn’t have been any wetter and had leaked slightly, the plastic pants not quite doing their function of containing all the moisture. There was a little pool of dampness on my bottom sheet and I was worried that I would be punished for making more washing. My initial thought was that I might get a spanking for wetting the bed. However, Gwyneth just raised her eyebrows and said that there was no harm done because she’d thought ahead and put a rubber sheet to protect the mattress “Just in case”. Why I should have thought I might get spanked I’m not too sure because getting disciplined wasn’t something that had ever happened before. Well, except for once, when I’d done something that had infuriated dad and he couldn’t contain his anger. I was seven at the time and had accidently pulled a wire out of something daddy was using to transmit a large, important report to head office. I’d been transfixed by an intense little rainbow that had appeared on his study wall. It looked beautiful, it was so bright and pretty that I’d wanted to take a closer look and in so doing I hadn’t noticed that I’d pulled one of the leads out of the machine. When dad wondered why his report hadn’t gone and saw the wire hanging out he went ballistic. When he asked me if I’d been in his study and I answered yes because I wanted to look at a pretty rainbow his anger was unleashed. I didn’t get a chance to explain further as my shorts came down and he spanked me for ages calling me awful things with every strike; “useless”, “hopeless”, “stupid”, “incompetent”, “a moron”… the rant went on and my bottom took the full force of his rage. There was no way my crying or saying sorry a thousand times helped the situation daddy only stopped when he got tired. I still fill up and shiver at the memory. Still bawling my eyes out he sent me to my room with instructions to go to bed and not move until he said otherwise. I was so terrified that’s just what I did and I was still crying when Gwyneth came home from school. She heard my sobbing and came in to see what the matter was. She was horrified at what daddy did but took some of the hurt away when she explained the rainbow phenomenon. She told me about sunlight and glass, and as dad had a prism on his desk, the sunlight coming in and striking it had formed the wonderful rainbow. I still didn’t comprehend how a rainbow could be formed from glass but I was in wonder at Gwyneth as she then went on to tell me the biblical reason for the rainbow. She was a very clever girl and I thought my sister knew everything so by the time she left my room I’d calmed down. However, mommy was home by then and she wasted no time in telling her what daddy had done. Mommy was furious. She hated violence of any kind, and made him promise never to do it again. Unfortunately, that night I wet the bed. Every time I closed my eyes all I saw was daddy on the rampage and I was scared. When mommy found me cowering in my own pee the following morning she was very understanding but knew how to deal with the problem. Oddly enough she still had some disposables in a closet from when I was five and had wet the bed. She immediately put me in diapers and I wore them day and night for over a week. Once again they acted as a comfort rather than punishment and I was happy to run around the house dressed like that. On one occasion I heard daddy say to her that I was acting like a two year-old, and added through gritted teeth, I was more sensible at that age. That spanking had a major effect on my young life because, being constantly anxious at home, and worrying I’d do the wrong thing, made sure I kept out of daddy’s way as much as I could. At one point he wanted to send me away to a Military school but mommy wouldn’t have it. However, he didn’t like to see me sulk around the house so, worrying that I might be sent away, I always had to be ‘happy’. * Anyway, my sister seemed to be well ahead on what to do about a boy who wets the bed, which I put down to her being a writer. I knew she researched everything thoroughly before even starting to put pen to paper so assumed that’s where her information came from. Indeed, when I shamefacedly looked up from the damp patch up to Gwyneth she smiled. “All I need to know for what my little brother needs is on the net,” and dragged the damp sheet off the bed. “It said this might happen…” and she ruffled my hair and grinned. “It’s only a bit of washing so don’t worry. I’ll keep you better protected from now on” She carried the sheet away and, for the moment, I was left standing in a very soggy diaper, in the middle of the room, waiting for her to return to change me. I went over to Teddy to check his diaper but he’s a clever bear and was still very dry. At that moment I wished I was a dry bear. * I heard the doorbell ring and wondered who was visiting. I thought it might be Pauly come to play or someone else who Gwyneth had found online. It was the mailman delivering a large package, which Gwyneth brought upstairs for me to watch her open. She seemed as excited as I was to see the contents as she slit the tape and opened the box. It was a special delivery that she’d ordered earlier online and was a fantastic array of new clothes, diapers, plastic pants and other things. She’d made sure I had a pair of shortalls with the poppers, as well as plastic pants with poppers, thicker rubber pants she’d read I might need at a future date. There were a couple of short onesies, another footer, shortie pjs, shorts with matching jumpers and shirts, she’d gone mad and bought loads of really nice stuff. I couldn’t wait to try it all on but first I had to get rid of the sagging soaked diaper I was wearing. * Once she’d got me all cleaned up the first thing she tried on me was a lovely soft thick fabric diaper. It was much softer and thicker than anything I’d had before and once it was pinned in place felt wonderful to wear. She slipped over a pair of popper plastic pants but the diaper was too huge so she ended up pulling up a large pair of see-thru plastic pants. It was massive but very comfortable although it made walking very difficult. It was decided by Gwyneth that from now on that would be what I would be wearing for bed. She was of the opinion that even I couldn’t flood the size of that diaper in one night… she giggled and jokily warned me that I shouldn’t try. We tried everything on to make sure it fit and anything that was a little on the large size would fit if I had more padding. I was in my element changing and trying stuff on, well, in truth, Gwyneth dressed me, took me to the mirror for my reaction and then tried me in something else, or a combination of new things. We were at it for ages before I realised I hadn’t had any breakfast, so, Gwyneth put me in a fresh disposable, let me wear the new popper sided pink plastic pants over it and we went down for brunch. * The next few days were fantastic. We went and met up with Dada Peak and Pauly at various locations and had a brilliant time. Pauly’s style was rubbing off on me and I found myself using his ‘toddler talk’ more and more when I spoke to anyone. He was fun to be with but never really left his dada’s side for very long. His dada was constantly attending to his snotty nose, his wet diaper, his messy hair and always making sure that Pauly was tidy, dry and happy. One night before bed Gwyneth told me that Pauly was twenty-five, had been with Dada Peak for over ten years and he’d been a toddler all that time. His dada loved having his ‘little soldier’ to look after and had told her that he couldn’t imagine life without him. I’m sure that Gwyneth and Dada Peak had long conversations about all manner of subjects but that was all she would tell me, although she did mention that there were quite a few ABDLs (again I wasn’t sure what that was), you know, ‘others’, in the area and Dada Peak would introduce us, if and when, I wanted to. I was incredibly comfy. My new huge fluffy diaper was pinned in place, the plastic pants were holding me tightly and Gwyneth had just said that magic word, which immediately got my attention. “Others?” I asked in amazement. Of course I wanted to meet others. In my head I imagined hordes of us, not unlike my jungle dream, toddlers and kids wearing our protection and playing games, running wild, building LEGO, and painting pictures… oh… I was so excited at the prospect I couldn’t wait. I hoped that the ten year-old boy from the changing room would be there because I liked his smile. * A few days later Gwyneth mentioned that she had to go and meet with her publisher; apparently the movie company had arranged the finances for ‘Smart Moves’ and now wanted to ‘action the script’ and discuss any changes. However, she said that I couldn’t join her because she didn’t know how long she’d be and couldn’t give me her undivided attention. However, she gave me an alternative and hoped I liked the idea. She would drop me off at Dada Peak’s and Pauly’s house and collect me on her way home… that was if I didn’t mind her not being around. She also thought I might have a brilliant time because apparently, Dada Peak had designed the house around Pauly’s needs and that included a huge play area that went from the inside and out into the garden. “Room for loads of kids to have fun” she enthused, “and besides you two get on so well.” I was a bit worried not having my sister there but I understood why I couldn’t go and besides, I’d be bored sitting around all day. It was a busy time for her, what with the movie and her new novel well underway, so I realised that I couldn’t be the centre of her world all the time. I think I agreed to going, although, when I think about it, perhaps it had already been decided. Anyway, I was happy to be spending time with Pauly and it would be exciting to visit his home. I asked if there might be ‘others’ there. She said she didn’t know but, well, maybe? That was all the encouragement I needed. * There was a group of about a dozen grown-ups looking on and all of them were laughing, commenting and jeering at us. We were trying our best to be good but nothing we did seemed to please them. We were all in this large play area; Pauly was there wearing only a diaper with a cartoon monkey on the front, sat in a puddle and crying. There were two other boys Ricky and Kim; Ricky was blubbing because he didn’t like the pretty little dress he had to wear (he couldn’t hide his thick diaper when he tried to pull it down), whilst Kim was head to toe in a spotted onesie but he had a little waggly tail and his head was covered in a doggy mask. The grown-ups were making him sit up and beg, roll over and do tricks, which he was finding difficult in his restricting onesie. There were two girls (I didn’t know their names) one in a ruffled pink rubber dress with enormously bulky matching panties and one in a similar black costume but both had gags in their mouths that looked like pacifiers. There were also four babies crawling around wearing only ultra-thick diapers, colourful pacis and bonnets. I knew I’d made a mistake. Without Gwyneth there to look after me I was now just one of ‘the others’ and I was at the mercy of what the grown-ups wanted. I know I was unhappy. My diaper was soaked through but every time I thought I’d be changed, one of the daddies or mommies would simply add a new diaper over the old one. I had this massive bulky thing now that made moving at all very difficult and I’d messed myself. I was sobbing, I was dirty and it was all my own fault for wanting to be a kid again. * “Stoopid, stoopid, stoooooopid,” I was so angry with myself for letting it happen. I was rapping my knuckles on my forehead, shouting and scowling at myself because I just couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. I know I’m not the brightest person in the world but I should have caught on sooner and I wouldn’t be in the mess, literally, that I was now… sitting in. With my thick diaper stuck to my body I disliked immensely the way the poop stuck to everything and made me feel both dirty and queasy. It didn’t help that I was being chastised for being “A dirty little baby” and made to feel that was all that I would ever achieve. Banging my head wasn’t helping as it hurt. I sat shaking in my pile of poo unable to do much else and began, as I so often did these past few days, to cry. No doubt I looked the picture of abject misery but, this is what the people had wanted and they were getting just that from my current display. I tried to escape but I simply couldn’t move, the grown-ups were advancing and I was, I was, I was… “Help me,” I screamed * Someone was rubbing my shoulder. “Wake up Benjy.” I was too scared to even open my eyes. “Come on Benjy,” he continued to gently shake my shoulder, “you’ve having a bad dream.” Eventually I forced myself to take in what was going on around me. Dada Peak’s face was looking concerned as he gently roused me from sleep. “You poor thing,” his voice was very soothing, “with all that crying and screaming you must have been having a terrible dream.” Effortlessly he picked me up, hugged me to his chest and rubbed my back. Slowly my perception of what was going on returned and I realised I’d been asleep and had an awful nightmare. As Dada Peak continued to reassure that all was well, I was able to look around and noticed that Pauly was standing in his crib, wearing a pink and blue onesie (that really showed off his thick diaper), clutching his plushie, although the paci couldn’t hide his look of concern. Dada Peak was making calming noises as I slowly came back from my horrible dream-inspired ordeal and it was very noticeable that my crib was a complete mess. Blankets and toys were strewn everywhere and there was a huge damp patch. My diaper must have been sodden but that wasn’t worrying Dada Peak, he just wanted to comfort a little chap who was frightened. As I realized it had all been a dream I hugged him back and nuzzled his neck in thanks. “Are you OK now?” That look of concern made me feel safe. I nodded. “Your mommy, er, Gwyneth, isn’t back yet but she has called and said she will be with us soon.” He patted my padded bottom and scrunched up his nose. “I think someone needs a change.” * In Pauly’s nursery there was everything; he even had other cribs in case anyone stayed over. There was a huge changing station with powders and lotions arranged along shelves, whilst piles of different coloured disposables filled every other space. There was another, smaller stack of plastic and rubber diaper covers to keep everything suitably in place, look good and leak proof. Dada Peak was very efficient, he had me out of my soaked diaper, wiped, cleaned, lotioned, powdered and wrapped in a thick, thick disposable in just a matter of seconds. I thought Gwyneth was fast but Dada Peak was superfast. Once he’d finished, by snapping me into a thick pair of cream coloured rubber pants, effortlessly he lifted me up and slipped me into the crib with Pauly. The concern on his face had changed to a smile and it wasn’t just the grinning image on his paci, he seemed happy I was OK and not traumatised. As Dada Peak set about cleaning up the messy crib I’d recently vacated I settled down with Pauly who inched up close and put his arms around me; his soft onesie and thick diaper rubbing up against my padding being very reassuring. Pauly pushed his plushie into my hands as comfort, whilst I lay there and began to think why I should have had such a dream. I could hear Pauly softly sucking on his paci whilst he snuggled up closer to my back and wished I’d also had one. Thankfully, Dada Peak was on my wave-length and surreptitiously slipped one between my lips, which I gladly accepted. * Being quite sleepy and trying to work out why I’d had such a terrifying dream was proving difficult, although it may have been down to the fact that I’d seen a few disturbing images about diaper wearers on Gwyneth’s laptop. It is perhaps strange that after that first day of appearing on Facebook and YouTube, and receiving all those comments, once Gwyneth had taken charge I was no longer bothered by it all. In fact, I hadn’t looked at either site since, except, and I know this was naughty of me, I looked the day before when I thought I might be meeting ‘others’ on this visit. I wanted to know who might be around and my curiosity led me to a site I wished I hadn’t seen. I hadn’t told Gwyneth what I’d done but obviously, those images had come back to haunt me right when I didn’t want them to. Pauly cuddled up even closer and our rhythmic sucking was in perfect sync, which made me drop off again. It hardly seemed moments before I was being woken up again but this time it was the gentle voice of Gwyneth. I could hear her saying to Dada Peak that perhaps she should leave me until morning as I looked so peaceful. However, once I heard her voice I opened my eyes and reached out to her. She bent into the crib and kissed me whilst stroking my brow. “Hello baby brother,” she cooed, “do you want to stay or shall I take you home?” Woozily I roused myself and stood up in the crib leaving Pauly sucking gently in a deep and undisturbed sleep. He was on his tummy and his huge protection billowed out from his onesie making a massive padded hill out of his bottom. He looked serene and content. I thanked Dada Peak for a wonderful day, for looking after and changing me with a giggly kiss, which he seemed to appreciate. Then, hand in hand, Gwyneth led me to her car and we drove home. I was still quite sleepy so we didn’t talk much though I could tell she was excited about something but it would have to wait. I fell asleep on the journey home and the next thing I remember is waking up in my own bed with Teddy smiling down on me. ***** tbc
  6. A New Start Part 1 Love isn’t all you need… but it’s certainly a start. Cardinal Willem Luthar Flischer (1949 - ) Joshiwoo was more than a little agitated as he sat in his playpen pushing the toy plastic train around and around. The soft vinyl mattress he was playing on had got a few ‘hills’ and ‘dales’ for him to at least make his choo-choo sounds a little different as the train climbed up and down its enclosed plastic domain. His own plastic pants, with the multi-teddy bear motif that encased his thick disposable, crinkled as he crawled around and was a nice accompaniment to the tinkling sounds of the overhead mobile plinking a soft nursery rhyme. His super-soft pale orange t-shirt had an image of a smiling brown and orange monkey hanging from a branch and the words ‘Lil Monkey’ written in swirling letters underneath. He was warm, he was safe and thanks to his super-thick nappy, he felt extremely secure. Sitting in one corner was his new, sparkling white, soft and smiling plushie, Snowy the polar bear. Lying quietly behind him was pink Bunny Fluffytail and his plastic T-Rex, Tex. The size of his playpen was adequate enough to contain him and his myriad of toys and fluffy creatures, and, for the last few months it had been a big part of his world. That and being looked after by ‘mummy’. The thing was he’d been on his own for some time now and was missing her. # Four months ago she had discovered an almost broken young boy on the verge of suicide and contemplating the welcoming embrace of the rail line as he stood perilously close to the edge of the bridge. He’d lost everything: His job, his home, his money and his friends. He’d got addicted to something that had changed his personality so much that no one wanted anything more to do with him – fame. Fleeting though it was, it had filled him with an attitude and a carelessness that made him believe he was indestructible (he’d not allow any reasoning voice to alter its ego-boost). He’d been stupid enough to believe his own hype and let others take care of ‘all the other stuff’. His swift rise as an eighteen year-old reality star had taken its toll on his personality, the very thing that had made him so popular in the first place. His small stature, baby face, sweet nature and a choirboy innocence (that would have let him get away with murder) had endeared him to the public consciousness whilst the show was on. However, once the show finished and the offers came flowing in; the fame and the money, the parties and the celebrity all conspired to ruin him. The newspapers were quick to castigate such a ‘nasty little upstart’ and he quickly lost all the goodwill he’d had because of a series of devastating headlines. Whoever said that any publicity was good publicity was wrong when it came to the career of Gordon ‘Little’ Littlewood. Just two years after it had started, it was over. His small stature and schoolboy looks didn’t stop the papers from holding him up to public ridicule for his drunkenness, drug abuse but the final straw had been the rape charge. Twitter, newsgroups, social media and newspapers in general became like a pack of wolves around the subject of Gordon Littlewood. After all, the news media had decided, as he was over eighteen he was targetable. The public were getting fed up with rich, young, good-looking celebs; it was time to take them down a peg or seven. There was once a time when a gentler, more forgiving, atmosphere existed in the world but nowadays it had been replaced by anger, spite and lethal vindictiveness and, if you were in their sights and vulnerable, you were eaten alive. ‘Little’ became a BIG but unedifying story for the media and anyone with an axe to grind. It hadn’t helped that his sweet personality had so rapidly changed to become unbearable and self-possessed. The sad thing for Gordon was he had nothing to back up what people had seen in him in the first place. That easy charm he’d revealed in the show was perceived (thanks to those highly defamatory articles and gossip columns) as nothing more than fake. The fact that he was once a ‘nice lad’, corrupted by fame and turned into this spiteful, self-opinionated sleaze ball, was absolutely no defence. As the papers joyously pointed out, it was easy to blame everyone else for his self-inflicted failings. The rape charge was eventually thrown out of court for ‘lack of evidence’ but he was never completely exonerated, even though most people ultimately realised the accuser was sick and had made the entire scenario up. Unfortunately, by then it was all too late and, as everything was gone; the money, the fame, the ‘friends’ (who delightedly cashed in on his celebrity) and any self-respect he once might have had departed. So, at just nineteen (almost twenty) years old he stood on the bridge wondering what life would be like dead. # The playpen was quite large and comfy as he lay listening to the plinky-plonk sound of his mobile. He hugged Bunny Fluffytail and held tightly onto his fleecy blankie, whilst gazing up at the stars and flying horses that circled over his head. The large white dummy he gently slurped on was also a comfort as he waited for mummy to come and change his soaked nappy. Earlier in the day his mummy had gently pulled him from his crib where he was all warm and sleepy and checked on his wet night time protection. She only changed him after he’d suckled on his bottle of formula and eaten the large spoon’s full of mushy Honey Oaties he enjoyed so much. He liked it when mummy changed him. She spoke such sweet words, kissed and tickled his tummy, cleaned and powdered him in such a loving way that, even when he was wrapped in his clean thick new disposable, he wanted it to continue. Thankfully, once the process was complete and mummy was happy with the way her little baby boy was dressed, she’d hug and cuddle him tightly to her bosom and rock him as she hummed a little tune. He’d close his eyes and suck on his dum-dum whilst mummy patted his well cushioned bottom as she finished her devoted morning ritual. # Gordon no longer remembered his past, all he knew was the present and the affectionate attention mummy lavished on her ‘sweetums’. In fact Gordon no longer existed, he’d become Joshua or more exactly, Joshiwoo. Yes, that’s what mummy called him: “My sweet little Joshiwoo - the sweetest of sweetums in the entire world.” He’d learned to say ‘Mummy’ but very few real words passed his lips. Gurgles and chuckles, bubbles and smiles were all mummy needed from him. He’d stretched out his hands to cup his new white bear or call for his pink rabbit and make some baby words that had entered his head but even his conversation with his toys was mainly babble. He might call out for ‘Shnowy’ or ‘Bun-bun’, he knew their names but was still learning to say them properly, but most of his vocabulary was just one word and pointing. Sometimes he’d sob a little even though he didn’t know why, but mummy came and tenderly stroked his hair or gently hugged him until whatever had caused the tears had been banished. Sometimes the snuffles were just because he was hungry, other times that he was saturated but mainly it was because he loved to have his mummy play with him. His teddy and other stuffed animals were fun and always felt nice to hug but it was mummy he liked to hug the most. She’d play with him and make noises that the animals or toys made and he’d learn from repeating mummy’s words or sounds. # Angela Epstein (nee Applegate) had been married to Doctor Joshua Epstein for two years when tragedy struck. She was just finishing her own nursing qualification when a huge accident on the fog bound M1 motorway had taken the life of her husband, which left her almost completely destroyed. The only thing that kept her going was the recent news that she was expecting her first child so devoted the next few months into making sure the birth of their baby would be a wonderful, uncomplicated experience. Unfortunately, the birth had been a messy and painful experience and her son had died just minutes after he had been welcomed into the world. A series of neural and physical difficulties meant that the sweet little baby boy never drew breath and his heart-broken mother only got to hold him for a few seconds before he was rushed away. Angela fell into a deep depression and for a couple of years hardly went anywhere, spoke to anyone or allowed friends to comfort her. She was utterly devastated. Every waking hour she just thought of what her baby would be doing at that moment had he survived. She’d named him Joshua after his father but even naming him didn’t make much difference to the deep morose feelings that seemed to engulf her. # That was until one day, whilst walking through the city’s shopping mall she noticed a sign on a window display saying that there were staff vacancies. Despite everything that had happened, this opportune moment came when she looked into the display of clothes and baby items in Everything4Baby and for the first time felt happy rather than resentful. All the colourful cute outfits and items for baby for some reason now filled her full of pleasure and on a whim she applied for a job. At the interview she never mentioned the loss of her baby but did mention the loss of her husband. Her nursing background was seen as an advantage and within a week she found herself working in an environment that once would have filled her with sadness but now filled her with joy. Everything4Baby had given her a job and a purpose. She loved the new mummies coming in and excitedly buying cute new stuff for their upcoming child. She loved suggesting items and helping pick out little onesies, nappies, bottles and toys for these young mothers. She was often surrounded by a sea of babies with their parents all searching for that specific item to make their little one ‘individual’. Because of constant requests for that ‘unique’ or ‘designer’ item, she’d found new suppliers, designers and clothes makers who, at a price, would create something ‘different and special’ – perhaps surprisingly, there was a great deal of social one-upmanship and elitism in the world of baby clothes. She was good at her job and soon found that she rose up the staff ranking and within two years was managing the branch. A year later and she bought out the owner and set about a series of adjustments that would develop the business far beyond what had originally been planned. Because of the way she ran the enterprise, the place catered for mummies, babies and those interested in baby stuff, even if they weren’t quite real babies themselves. Everything4Baby could have been renamed ‘Everything4allbabies’ because of the diverse selection of customers who came into the shop. That was ten years ago and she’d never been happier. # However, one late night driving home she noticed a dishevelled and sad young boy looking like he was contemplating his life as she saw him climbing up onto the rail bridge’s safety barrier. A shiver of concern ran through her body but the fact that there were few people around made her slam on the brakes and decide to try to do something. The boy only looked to be in his early teens, possibly thirteen or fourteen, and immediately thought how old her own son would have been had he lived. Her heart went out to this obviously distressed young man. She had no idea what to say or do once she got there nor how he’d react, it was a matter of trying to do something rather than nothing. Angela knew it may already be too late and the boy may have plummeted onto the busy rail line below but she also knew she had to try and help him. “What if,” she imagined, “this had been her own son in such turmoil?” She’d hope that some passing Samaritan would try and help. # Part 2 They sparkle and twinkleth like diamonds caught in starlight Edmund White-Thomlinson (1801-1843) Joshiwoo was sucking on his bottle. The warm liquid filling his tum-tum and making him wriggle contentedly in mummy’s lap. He had no concept of time or of his past life, right now was the only thing he knew and to his mummy at least, he appeared happy enough. She kept him warm, safe, clean and loved. Yes LOVED. She had poured everything she knew, every resource possible, called in every favour and provided all she could into giving her new baby all the things she would have given to her own had fate not claimed him. She was now in possession of a boy who had been damaged by the consequences of his life and was in need of a new beginning, she was going to make sure he received it. # Angela had managed to get to the highly distraught boy just seconds before he jumped. He was surprised to see this woman approach and a brief thought that it was someone, like the rest of his money grabbing family and members of the public, who wanted to taunt him. But, and this had been the surprise, in a calm and soothing voice she had simply said: “Please don’t jump.” After the beating he’d taken from his family, friends, press and his most recent experience, these were the first tender and concerned words he’d heard in a long time. He was shaking as he stood on the railings; he really didn’t want to jump but could see no alternative to the mess he’d made of his young life. The hate he seemed to have generated, the nasty and vindictive personality he’d adopted, the laughing stock he’d become – none of this really suited him and it was time to end it all. But, he wavered as the kindly lady reached out and simply said: “Let’s make your life better.” The steady gloved hand hung in the night air as she managed to coax the young boy down. Angela was completely unaware who he was, he simply looked like a damaged young teen in desperate need of help. # Baby Joshua sucked on his dum-dum as his mummy patted his nicely padded bottom. She’d been amazed at how much liquid he was able to produce but now, several weeks in, she liked the look of her well-cushioned ‘son’ and the number of stuffers in his nappy certainly made him bulky but, as she smiled to herself, incredibly cute. His plastic pants were tight under the dinosaur onesie he wore to keep everything snug but it also helped the soft rustling sound as he shuffled about. Angela just loved to observe Joshiwoo as he played, napped and lived his new unencumbered life. “This is how it should have been.” She thought as Gordon became Joshua and she was able to be a proper mother to her ‘little’ one. Both had a new take on life; a new deal, a new reason to be alive… a brand new start. # When Angela had got the disturbed boy home he was shaking, tired and completely exhausted. She thought, whatever he’d been through, it must have been something quite traumatic. He was dirty, wretched and looked like a he could use a meal but, as he sat in her lounge; all he really wanted was to sleep. Without much thought other than helping the poor boy she suggested he take a bath and then, if he wanted, have a nice long sleep. Gordon was thankful for the suggestion and grateful for the offer of somewhere to stay for the night and, above all else, that he didn’t have to explain anything there and then. A warm bath and a bed were just what he needed. Whilst he relaxed for the first time in many months he let the warm embrace of the bath soothe his troubled mind. Meanwhile, Angela was busy making up the bed in the other room, the room that would have been Joshua’s. It was, despite the passage of time, still full of many of the nursery items she had bought all those years ago. Lying unmade against the far wall was the crib in which he would have spent those first few months of his life and a tremor ran through her body. Tears sprung to her eyes and she wept for her loss… it wasn’t the first time and she doubted it would be the last. # She went back to the bathroom to check on her guest and saw that he had fallen asleep. She smiled and returned to the room to make space for the inflatable mattress she manoeuvred into the place and added sheets and a blanket. When she’d finished she looked around the room, it still had very much the nursery and baby look; cartoon characters, baby animals in diapers, mobiles and loads of fluffy animals, toys, blankets and the soft, subdued lighting she though a baby might need. Using a selection of baby blankets she quickly made up the bed. It may not be what a teenager might want to sleep on but with all the soft fleecy material it certainly looked comfy. A thought flashed into her head – should she make him wear a nappy? It might have been because she was already in a hyped up state, being back in her child’s nursery but that weird thought seemed to come out of nowhere. It was true that whenever she ventured into the nursery all the ‘what might have been’ came flooding back. Even though the room never got to experience a child sleeping and playing in it there was an atmosphere of baby powder and infant about the place. Nappies danced for a few brief seconds in her head and, in her mind’s eye, she saw herself putting baby Joshua into a pair. She smiled at the thought but quickly realised her guest was hardly likely to wet the bed and didn’t think it a problem if he did, the inflatable was made of plastic so very little could be ruined. It had been a strange and unusual few moments, besides, she doubted if any of the baby stuff she had would fit a boy the size of the one snoozing in her bath. She laughed at her own silly thoughts and went to retrieve the slumbering lad. # A heap of filthy clothes piled on the chair needed sorting, there wasn’t much but far too dirty for him to sleep in. She decided to wash and dry them but was surprised to see a set of keys, a phone and a bunch of coins sat on top of the pile. The phone wasn’t turned on so might have been broken and if what she saw was the sum total of the boy’s money, he really was in a bad way. Anyway, none of it mattered at that moment so went off to find some pyjamas or shorts or ‘something’ he could wear. After several minutes searching she’d found very little that might be appropriate but a pair of her own flowery thick cotton winter PJs and some white cotton knickers she hadn’t worn in years. She decided that they would do temporarily and, after putting his dirty clothes into the washer, went and woke her sleepy soaking guest. # He took some rousing from the bath but eventually she was able to help him up and, after offering him a fresh towel, left him to dry off. He didn’t appear that bothered that a complete stranger was taking care of him and, seemed more than grateful, for the underwear and even the floral jammy bottoms. Her kindness and sympathy was just what he needed so was content to be warm and clean with someone fussing around him, it had been a while. The lighting in the bedroom was low and as she guided him towards the temporary inflatable. She apologised for not having a proper bed but assured him that others who had slept on it in the past had found it quite comfortable. He was really too tired to worry and just glad of a place to lie down, he would have happily stayed in the bath had she left him. She reminded him where the toilet was in case he needed it during the night and jokingly added that if he wet the bed then it would be nappies in future. A quizzical expression passed over his features (he hadn’t noticed the nursery print wall paper and the room’s other juvenile trappings), she giggled embarrassingly letting him know she was only making fun. He was well-tuckered out and, as the room was pleasantly warm lay out on the blankets, curled up into the foetal position, and almost immediately started drifting off to sleep. A quiet “Thank you” escaped his lips as he snuggled against the fleecy blankets. He slipped the soft material with the childish motifs over his body as a huge relaxed sigh and wiggle to get comfortable brought the evening as far as he was concerned to a close. Unconsciously she reached out and stroked his hair. “You’re welcome sweetheart.” Kneeling next to his bed she watched for a few moments as he settled down and soon his shallow breathing signalled he was asleep. Her heart once again went out to this poor little guy as she wondered what had driven him to contemplate suicide. However, at the same time she pondered this, she was also thinking of her lost baby and as she looked down on her sleeping visitor, all she really saw was her own son. Her heart welled up and she sobbed wishing that this poor boy was indeed her little boy and she could look after him and make sure he’d come to no further harm. As she looked on he lay there tightly cuddling the fleecy blanket in his left hand whilst his right made its way to his lips. She watched with a smile on her face as he soothed whatever worries he had with the aid of his spit soaked thumb. “Goodnight Joshua.” She whispered and kissed his head. # Part 3 “As you grow the small child within is not holding you back but offering a place to heal” Mohammed Devwhalli (1901 -2000) Baby Joshua was wet, very wet as he woke from his nap. He clutched ‘Sh-nowy’ tightly and its soft white fleecy coat tickled his face as he slowly returned to wakefulness. Almost immediately his mummy was by his side and letting down the bars of the crib, checking her boy’s night time protection and beamed with pleasure as she helped him get to his feet. He tried to return his happiness at seeing mummy again by smiling round his dummy but all that achieved was more drool dripping onto his brightly coloured onesie, his chest was almost as wet as his nappy. This was baby Joshua’s favourite part of the day when mummy cleaned him up, tickled and played fun games, bathed and dressed him. He’d giggle almost continually until she’d help him downstairs for something to eat. Sometime, if he’d had a restless night and was still half asleep, mummy would hold him in her arms whilst he drank his formula from a bottle. Once he’d sucked it all down she’d burp him and then put him down so he could sleep until he was ready to face the day. There was little point in changing him until then as he always wet when he slept and all that formula had to go somewhere. Mummy made sure the thick soak pads added to his nappy would keep him from completely flooding his cot. # Angela knew that she should be trying to get in touch with the boy’s parents so that they were aware he was OK. However, because he’d been in such a state she thought it better to wait, have a chat with her guest and then decide on who needed to be informed. Once this decision had been made she settled down on her sofa to catch up on some paperwork. It was very late. The events of the evening had eaten into the time but there were still things for work she had to do before the morning. As she examined the various bills, quotes, designs, worksheets etc. progress was very slow because her mind kept returning to the poor lad upstairs. She’d rescued the boy but now felt some kind of responsibility to him and his family. Her concentration level was poor until she happened on a bill from one of her ‘specialist’ firms. This small firm produced bespoke, original items in any size and had quickly become one of the main suppliers to her ‘alternative’ baby customers. When she’d first embarked on this side of furnishing the needs for this group of customers, she had to source the companies herself, check if they were up for making the items requested and then agreeing a supply chain, delivery dates and, most importantly, happy customers. All these points were achieved with relative ease and it could be said she was one of the few such providers in the county. Everything4Baby had quickly become the place to shop for such a market and, the once-a-month late night private shopping, had proved both popular and a location where like-minded people could meet and discuss their predilection - babies during the day, ABDL at night. Now as she examined the bill and the items ordered her mind focused on what it would be like to have something similar herself. It was for an adult crib with lockable sides and a deep soft plastic mattress with a baby duckling design. The person who requested it also wanted an entire set of bedding and baby clothes to match. It was a huge, expensive order but she had been able to coordinate all the different suppliers to work together and produce a superb finished product where all the component parts worked in harmony. She was justly proud of what the happy customer received and he, rightly, was nothing but praise as word spread throughout the community. * She slept fitfully that night. Her mind full of adult babies and the charming little get ups they wore. She’d often passed comment on how wonderful they all looked in their baby clothes: The made-to-measure nappies, shiny vinyl pants, dresses, onesies, pjs, colourful vests, bibs, cartoon all-in-ones, indeed, even the suppliers were delighted with this new, demanding and growing outlet for their pricey but high-end creations. However, when her dream started incorporating her visitor she struggled against the idea – it was stupid, insane, and probably even against the law and, more to the point, RECKLESS. However, dreams being dreams, the thought lingered and she became captive in a life, a dream life, which had him at its centre but as a baby. When she woke up she was most uncomfortable with what was in her head. There again… * She quietly opened his bedroom door and was surprised to see that he’d hardly moved in the night. He was still lying on top of the blankets although one was now gripped tightly against his body but she detected the tell-tale smell of urine. Despite her thinking it wouldn’t happen she soon realised that her guest hadn’t made it to the bathroom and could see the outline of the ‘tidemark’ around his floral cotton PJs. He was still fast asleep. She cautiously shook him awake. It took a while but eventually managed to get him to near consciousness as he looked around unsure of his bearings. “Sorry to wake you, er, erm, er,sweetie ,” she was a bit hesitant because she still didn’t know his name. “I have to go to work but, if you want to stay in bed, I’ll be home around lunchtime…” He yawned and stretched but was still unbelievably tired. “Er, OK.” He simply acknowledged her offer to stay in her home for a little longer; after all, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. “Yer, er, I could do with some more sleep… thank you.” He mumbled but smiled his thanks and waited for her to leave. As she hesitated at the door he suddenly realised that she might actually have some doubts about leaving him alone. “Oh, your stuff will be alright, I’m not a thief and I’m grateful to you for…” “No, no, it’s not that,” Now it was Angela’s turn to feel she needed to explain. “It’s just…” He suddenly became aware of the pool of smelly dampness he was lying in. “Oh for Christsake, what the fuc…” “No, no don’t worry… I… er, we can…” She saw him fling back the blanket he was clutching and look down at his soaked jammy bottoms and the urine soaked sheet he’d been lying on. The plastic inflatable mattress making sure no further harm was done but that also meant however much his bladder released had now soaked into everything else. He looked up at her and his irate expression changed to one of distress and regret. In that brief moment he’d changed from an angry young man into a sad little boy. His face screwed up in abject failure and was almost on the verge of letting his tearful emotions take control. It wasn’t a clever contrived reaction to his damp situation, it was real. For a few seconds there were no further exchanges, they were both a little overawed by what had happened. Eventually, he looked around the room and gave her an apologetic smile. “I suppose if I’m going to piss myself, at least I’m in the right place to do so… you’d better get the nappies ready.” * Although the last line was said as a joke his mind immediately slipped back to ‘There and Then - Here and Now’ the reality TV show he’d appeared on. It was roughly an updated, 24/7 version of the popular ‘Big Brother’ franchise with live and recorded segments broadcast (though which segment was recorded and which part live was never relayed to the contestants) of course there was also tasks to be completed daily. Each player gained points every twenty four hours depending on how well they ‘performed’; this was done by phone votes and logged on-line responses. Once the contestant was voted out of the house, their accrued points were available and up for grabs, which the public could then, via a live phone in, allocate to other members of the cast. This intense involvement from viewers had seen the show top the ratings and become the ‘must watch’ programme on TV. The newspapers ran an almost blow by blow account of the outrageous behaviour of the contestants, who became instant celebrities, whilst the public in general just couldn’t get enough of it… especially as they could submit tasks to be performed. This interaction was one of the segments of the re-vamped show the public liked best because they could actually appear on it via social media and suggest what was to happen. Although these bits looked ‘live’ they were in fact recorded so as to give the production crew time to get any props organised. # One such suggestion was to split the house into two - one side to be mummies and daddies, whilst the other had to be babies. Of course, as it turned out Gordon ended up being a baby and was suitably dressed. His small frame gave him an advantage and his bulky nappy, shiny plastic pants and frilly bonnet seemed just perfect for him as the challenge got underway. He took to the part like a duck to water and immersed himself in the antics of a baby. He was convincing and, with his little tubby tummy on show and the huge protection that the cameras just loved to constantly feature, he was the one the audience adored. The public loved this feature and called in with ideas for what they should wear, what they should be fed and the babyish games they should play. And, whereas the other ‘babies’ baulked at some of the suggestions; Gordon played the part to the fullest. On more than one occasion what they were dressed in bordered on the fetish rather than adolescent, whilst the outrageous bulky nappies, satin dresses or juvenile onesies were just too much for some. Those who were acting babies were not allowed to speak but could only make their wishes known by crying, pointing and gurgling. The six other babies were hopeless but Gordon proved to be a winner and made front page news in his cute baby outfit with this particular task when he wet and messed himself live on air. What the public were not aware of was that his ‘accident’ was just that. He hadn’t meant for it to happen but, a long nap, together with some rather dubious baby food and drink had led to a spectacular reaction. The stunned and confused expression on his face (and the tears that followed) was something that no one could ignore. The public were appalled and delighted, the ratings soared and Gordon won infamy as well as the public vote. It was he who walked away with the £250,000 prize at the end of the show. # Despite all this public affirmation and notoriety the programme had passed Angela by. She had of course heard of it but hated reality shows and rarely watched TV. She was also not in the least bit bothered about gossip (celebrity or otherwise) or indeed any sort of ‘popular culture’ so the fortunes of the shows ‘stars’ had come and gone without so much as a comment from her. She still had no idea who this soaked boy in her spare room was but who, at that moment, looked even more pathetic than he had when standing on the bridge preparing to commit suicide. His slim pale body, shaggy hair and big brown eyes doing nothing to confirm he was an adult. He really did look like a small child confused by the way his bladder had let him down. He had no excuse for why he wet the bed and possibly ruined a kindly woman’s patience… for a brief moment he wished he’d taken up her jokey reference to wearing a nappy. This was not the first time he’d wet himself, and not just on the TV show, that was one of the many things his ‘loving’ family were able to torment him about. He was constantly bullied by his family and being the youngest and smallest, he was an easy target. His occasional bouts of incontinence also added to the vast amount of abuse the boy suffered all his life… he was the butt of everyone’s jokes. He had no idea the reaction his stupid bodily malfunction would garner from this guardian angel. For Angela’s part, she knew he needed time to heal from whatever had driven him to contemplate that final act of self destruction. His pissing the bed only added to the boy’s vulnerability and further evidence he needed to be cared for. # Part 4 I fear a future that has no future Izzy Downing (1980 - ) from the poem ‘Magole’s Lament’ “Look, don’t worry about anything.” She looked around the nursery and thought he was right, it was the correct place to do it if you were going to pee your pants. “I have to go to work but, your clothes are in the washer and should be dry in a short while. If you can put all this stuff on at some point,” she said indicating the wet bedding, “I’d be very grateful.” Gordon nodded. “Thanks. Look,” she said as an afterthought, “if you want to go, please just drop the latch as you leave, but, should you want to take some time to think or… talk, I’ll be back at lunchtime and we can chat then. After all, I don’t even know your name.” Gordon couldn’t believe he hadn’t been recognised although in truth, he did look different now than he had when he was in the show. He was both suspicious and relieved that his identity was unknown and wondered how he could spin this anonymity to his advantage. “OK, and, if that’s alright with you… I’d like to stay a little longer to try and get my head in order… and a chat at lunchtime sounds fine.” He smiled and then as if to bring the conversation to an end looked down at the mess he’d made and grimaced. “I’ll have this all cleaned up by the time you return.” # It was a busy half-day in the shop for Angela. It seemed that everyone in town who was pregnant had decided to pay a visit and she was rushed off her feet. She didn’t mind that amount of business, she didn’t mind the questions, nor did she mind the continuous nervous and excited requests for advice and information. As manager/owner of Everything4Baby she was used to being asked everything from infant fashion guidance to relationship problems. It was that type of store and the reason why it had become so successful. Nevertheless, by 1pm she was completely shattered and ready to get home having in the past few hours temporarily forgotten about her guest. However, before she left she grabbed a couple of items from the storeroom and put in a call to one of her ‘specialist’ contacts. # Once home she was pleased to find him dressed and watching TV with a mug of coffee by his side. To Angela he looked even more like a young teenager; his now clean, if ripped, jeans and Call of Duty t-shirt, mop of ill-kempt hair, bare feet and nervous nod of acknowledgement only making him appear like a schoolboy truant. “Hello,” she smiled and carried things through to the kitchen. “Glad you decided to stay for a while.” She called over her shoulder. Gordon was engrossed in the programme but looked up and smiled as she zipped through the living room and up the stairs. “Yer, yer, er, I think I need time to, er, think… if that’s OK with you?” He called back to her. She disappeared into her bedroom but carried on the conversation… only a little louder. “No problem. Have you eaten?” Her voice carried from the bedroom as she slipped off her coat and sorted out some of the items she’d brought home. “I had some toast earlier, I’m not really hungry… er, can I get you a coffee, tea or something? You look like you’ve had a busy day?” Almost immediately she was back down stairs and into the living room. “Please, tea would be nice and yes… it has been very hectic.” Gordon busied himself in the kitchen boiling up the kettle, putting tea in the teapot, putting milk in a jug, although his brief search didn’t turn up any sugar. He saw there was one bone china cup and saucer and correctly assumed that was how she preferred her tea served. She was a stylish lady so no doubt drank her tea with a degree of finesse and that classy crockery, he thought, suited her just right. Meanwhile, Angela settled herself on the sofa and was looking forward to having a nice chat. # Joshiwoo lay on the carpet in front of the TV watching cartoons and burbling away to ‘Sh-nowy’. He was wearing only his little t-shirt and thick protection, his yellow plastic pants crinkling noisily as he swayed from side to side in time to the music. He was ‘singing’ along to the melody whilst watching the colourful characters light up the screen. His mummy really loved it when she could see her boy enjoying himself in such a way, it made it all worthwhile. Whatever doubts she may have once had, they were swept away by the sheer pleasure he gave her and the unconditional love she could shower on him. # Once he’d served tea Gordon came and sat down next to Angela. She turned off the TV and smiled. “Hi, I’m Angela.” She offered her hand and he took it. “Pleased to meet you Angela, er, I’m Terry.” Gordon lied. “Pleased to meet you too Terry.” She noticed that his t-shirt didn’t quite reach to top of his jeans. The waistband of his clean but ancient underwear was just visible and his little pale tummy appeared more apparent because of this revealing gap. Perhaps it was just her but this made him seem even more defenceless. Again, Angela desperately wanted to wrap him in her arms and let him know all was well, to take away any pain or hurt he had suffered and return him to a life of childish bliss. # As they chatted the story that ‘Terry’ wanted to tell slowly emerged. If she really didn’t know who he was (and she hadn’t given any indication she did) he thought he’d spin a story of near truths. She asked him if he shouldn’t let his family know he was OK, they might be worried but he countered with the fact that it was his abusive family he was escaping from. He lay on the abuse, sexual as well as mental, which wasn’t too far away from the truth (although the sexual abuse came later and not from his family). However, the fact was that his family were a bunch of nasty, self-serving, money-grabbing, thoughtless, vindictive degenerates who had loved Gordon’s fame and the money that success brought so who went all out to exploit him, and it, to the fullest. The fact that it all but destroyed him didn’t even register on their collective consciousness, they just saw the money. # From where Angela was listening little Terry was struggling with his tale. She could see the emotion just pour out and watched as he wriggled uncomfortably with some of his descriptions. Of course she believed everything he said, and most of it was true except he left out certain pieces of the jigsaw. No mention of the TV programme, the public humiliation or his later encounters with people even worse than his family passed his lips, he kept it all at a family level. Since he was a toddler the constant put downs, malicious words, spiteful actions and the relentless air of malevolence had been his unceasing companion. No childhood bliss for this boy. No ‘sweetness and light’ mother to comfort and cherish him. Apart from the fact he was the youngest so obviously an easy target, the reason they constantly put him down was because he was different. He did have a spark of kindness, affability, empathy and understanding but this showed his family up for what they were. Whenever this side of Gordon raised its head, the rest saw it as their duty to mock and mistreat him until he they would no longer be confronted by something that was actually considerate. No. No. No. Parents and siblings alike goaded their innocent little brother into becoming a monster. Because he’d been successful on TV and was a celeb they encouraged him to get an attitude, to demand rather than ask and to be as awful as they were, unfortunately for him, he took their advice. That was when his descent into oblivion started. It was them he was terrified of and, although he didn’t go into too much detail, what he left unsaid, Angela was able to fill in those horrifyingly painful blanks herself. He alluded to other things since he’d escaped from home and how he’d really screwed up elsewhere in his life. Again, specifics were left to her own imagination. Angela couldn’t understand how such a young boy could have so many troubles but as the story unfolded the reasons became apparent. The essentials were missing but it left his host in no doubt that her guest was the victim of some shocking and disturbing events. At one point his tears flowed and Angela comforted the poor boy hugging him through the worst of this emotional black spot. The tears had been real when Gordon realised just how completely abandoned and destitute he really was. He was so alone and broken that when the opportunity arose, clung to anyone who seemed to understand his situation. # Alas, the last people he had confided in had been only too pleased to find such an amiable ‘toy’ they could use and abuse. His celebrity had been a bonus as they kept him prisoner and sexually used and abused him for a few days. By the time they had finished, the boy that was already broken was just an empty shell who understood once and for all he was worthless. Their actions, together with all that had gone before, destroyed his spirit. The feeling of utter uselessness had driven him to that final decision; the only way to stop his suffering was to end it all. Angela was in tears herself by the time he’d finished explaining what had happened. She was both angry and sad at what the youngster had been through and railed against how terrible people were to take advantage of someone else’s suffering; especially such a defenceless young boy. So, his reasons for suicide were powerful and why he was in no rush to let anyone know where he was equally poignant. He was so very grateful to have someone, after so much pain, to actually care. Because of her kindness and concern in his darkest hour, he literally owed her his life. He wanted to disappear but, and this was down to Angela, he no longer wanted to kill himself. # As the story of his hateful family revealed more and more dysfunction, she began to feel very protective of this sad looking teenager. She still assumed he must be about the same age Joshua would have been had he lived, fourteen, but never got around to asking him his real age. She did ask if he’d thought about going to Social Services for help but he shrugged and said his mother always said that’s where they’d send him if he ever revealed anything about the family. In their house Social Services was regarded as the enemy and a place to be avoided; full of stress, horror and anxiety, staffed by hateful perverts and certainly more unpleasant than what he was already used to. The bullying family had certainly planted the notion he’d get no help from them. He had a deeper fear of Social Services than of his own appalling family. He said he was scared of what might happen if anyone knew he was still around and begged Angela not to tell anyone. That fear of being discovered and sent back to a life so abusive he shook with dread as he pleaded with her to keep his secret. He urgently wanted to become invisible so that to all intents and purposes he no longer existed. He wanted time to think and hopefully find some solution and perhaps start again… though exactly how he was to accomplish this he had no idea. However, he smiled when he looked deep into Angela’s eyes, as far as he was concerned she had lived up to her name because like an angel she’d rescued him. It was an emotional moment that wasn’t in the least insincere; it was an honest reaction to what had happened over the last twenty-four hours or so. She felt it as well. # There was a bond between them and it was getting mixed up in her mind. One second she could deal with this teenager with ease, knowing what was needed and what to do. The next moment, she only saw her son Joshua and desperately wanted to mother him and keep him safe. He had asked what she did for a living, so happily explained about her ‘little baby clothes shop’. The mention of ABDL stuff was left out of the conversation but she did allude to her ‘growing’ group of customers and how much she enjoyed the ‘fascinating’ world of babies. She didn’t want to go into any great explanation about living on her own but the observant little chap had noticed her wedding ring so simply confirmed that her husband had died. She didn’t enlighten him any further and wisely he realised it might be a prohibited area for discussion. However, that maternal feeling had been getting stronger the more time they spent chatting and foolishly she was getting comfortable with a ridiculous notion forming in her brain. An idea that was simply not practical or how things worked in the real world. Strangely, it was a feeling she’d had from the moment she’d coaxed him down from that bridge. When she thought about it, she’d already done things that were primarily, if unconsciously, aimed at ‘Terry’ being part of her family in some way or other. Although she couldn’t really keep him from a cruel world, every fibre of her body told her he needed protection and she felt almost compelled to be the one to do just that. # They talked for ages. Time didn’t seem to matter and ‘Terry’ was able to keep up his temporary façade simply because Angela saw no need to doubt or challenge him on anything he said. Over a hastily prepared meal he explained what he really wished for was a brand new start. He wished for a place where his family didn’t exist, where no one knew him and somewhere he felt safe. He looked at Angela with his huge innocent eyes and her heart melted. Despite the fact that she knew she shouldn’t be holding such thoughts, Angela wondered how easy it would be to grant that wish. To keep this scared boy in her protection. To keep him away from railway lines and that feeling of futility she’d observed when he hung nervously onto that bridge. This was not the act of an attention seeker; this was the last despairing act by someone who had come to the end of their reasoning. It was the final act of escape. Perhaps she could provide a better finale. # Eventually, the chat got less and less as tiredness crept in to their conversation. It was time for bed. Angela realised that she hadn’t checked in the nursery or made ‘Terry’ a bed for the night and was surprised that he’d already made up the inflatable mattress. “I wasn’t sure if… after last night’s, er, accident, that you’d let me stay another night” He looked shamefully at the ground. “I’m really sorry about that but, well, er, I couldn’t help it, I, er…” “Not to worry.” He was grateful she had interrupted his apology. It was difficult for him to admit that it wasn’t the first time to happen and also knew he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. He just hoped that he would be able to get to the toilet in time. She checked the bed was made up to her satisfaction. He’d piled all the clean and dry fleecy blankets he could find on top because they’d made him feel incredibly comfortable and strangely safe. “OK Terry,” he appeared at least to have the bedding sorted, although no doubt his brain would take a little longer to be equally as well organised. Now she could see he was organised in some way that made her feel sad. She wanted to think of him as a helpless toddler reliant on her for everything. She also wished she’d been able to use some of the items she’d brought home from work; the pack of disposables and the large plastic pants. In her mind she already saw his well-padded bottom snuggling down under the fleecy pale blue blanket but alas reality returned. Angela had no idea how she expected to get him to wear such items but that impulsiveness to bring them home in the first place made her think perhaps it was something he might need. As it turned out, the morning proved just that. # Part 5 A dream may inspire - so should never be ignored Dr Aaron Livitt (1900 – 1973) “Oh Josh… er, Terry.” Angela was aghast at the smell of pee and the fact that all the baby blankets were soaked and strewn in wet lumps around the inflatable mattress. ‘Terry’ was just coming round and had no real idea what was going on as nothing quite registered at that point. Judging by the state of the bedding her guest probably had a very disturbed night. He also must have pissed a couple of gallons around the place for everything to get so saturated. The warmth of the room only emphasised the smell but he seemed oblivious to what had happened. # He lay there all but naked wearing only his soaked and stinky underpants as Angela busied herself in drawing back the blinds and opening a window. A cool gust of wind agitated the air and sent a shiver briefly across the wet boy’s body. It was that cooling shock which woke him up to realise what he’d done. In remarkable quick succession of expressions - horror, confusion and sadness - crossed his face. He knew he was in trouble, thinking no one would put up with an adult pissing the bed. Seeing ‘Terry’ coming to terms with his damp situation Angela couldn’t help but think she already had the solution to the problem. “OK mister,” she picked up a few of the soaked items. “This isn’t going to happen again.” Despite herself she admonished him as if he was a toddler because, in her eyes, she thought of him as a young teenager not an adult. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, guilt let it pass. Everything was soaked but any excuse he hoped to come up with was a nonstarter because there wasn’t one he could offer to explain why this happened for a second time. She looked in his bleary, almost tearful eyes and saw only despondency as he tried to emerge from a rather deep and what had been to him at least a rather peaceful sleep. Indeed, the last two nights had proved wonderful for his ability to sleep without any anxious thoughts, stress or fear. So, when Angela hinted that precautions would be taken in future he simply accepted it. “Yer, ermm, sorry, I, er, ermmmmm, sorry.” His voice was feeble and filled with dejection. He’d slept with a warm glow making him feel safe and secure; he hadn’t worked out that maybe that ‘glow’ wasn’t just an internal feeling but a physical one as well. # He tried to think why he’d pissed himself again. Once could have been an accident but a second time just seemed laziness. There were no dreams he could remember that might have caused it, all he could remember was that as he slept he was no longer concerned about anything. Indeed, the room was at a pleasant temperature, the fleecy blankets cosy, the bouncy mattress comfortable; he’d slept in a haze of utter contentment. He was at a place, and more importantly, with someone who cared, so, after the year he’d had this was an unbelievable bonus. He didn’t want it to end by alienating the one person who’d stretched out a helping hand. # The open window allowing a cool breeze to circulate the room drew attention to ‘Terry’s’ soaked underwear; his limp penis damply outlined as the white discoloured material stuck against genitals and pubic hair. He felt guilty and tried to cover up but of course Angela had seen all there was to see and wasn’t impressed. Guilt turned to apprehension, he certainly didn’t want to leave this safe haven and find himself back out in a world he’d so recently wanted to depart. She may be an angel but… even angels must have a natural abhorrence of pissy people so realised, if he proved too much of a burden, that he couldn’t rely on her understanding to keep a place in the house. He nodded at the inferred changes, although she didn’t say what, as she picked up all the damp stuff. As she inspected one of the scrunched-up, wet fleecy sheets a little sigh escaped her lips. It wasn’t aimed at ‘Terry’ but he caught what that sound might suggest. In fact, she was merely remembering when she’d bought it - the day after she’d been told of her pregnancy and in a deliriously happy mood had seen it in a shop window and bought it on a whim. # Angela went to the bathroom and returned with a hand towel. She pointed to his groin indicating his underwear needed to join everything else in the wash. Feeling greatly embarrassed he sheepishly removed and handed them over. He could barely make eye contact he felt so small, stupid and babyish. Wetting again had literally dampened any of the confidence he was getting back. She left the room with a pile of washing and a raised eyebrow as he timidly held the small piece of fabric against his genitals. To Angela this image just confirmed once again what a shy, innocent and tragic little boy she had under her roof. The room temperature had certainly dropped a few degrees; this was partly due to the open window but mainly to the shame he was feeling. Of course, standing around naked didn’t help. He shivered and wondered if because of this incident he’d have to leave. His body shook at the thought, whilst his breathing became strained and his chest tightened. There was a sudden rush of fear because he was scared of being out in public again… he wasn’t ready. His head was filled with worry and unexpectedly his panic attack resulted in something else. His bladder contracted and a stream of warm golden piss flooded the towel pressed against his lower extremities. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” # He took a shower and hoped to feel better when finished. As he scrubbed away the debris of his wet night, and surreptitiously wrung out the freshly washed towel, he reviewed the conversation and thought that Angela’s words hadn’t actually meant he was being thrown out, which was a great relief. However, he also knew she rightly had some concerns and decided to comply with whatever was requested. He thought it only fair and besides, for the moment, he had no better plans and nowhere else to go. He realised he needed her to continue to care. When he returned to the nursery everything had been picked up. All that was left was the grey inflated plastic mattress, which he’d found surprisingly comfy to sleep on. The damp sheets and blankets had all been removed and the place was left looking more like a child’s nursery than it had appeared before. She’d also given the room a quick spray of air freshener, which certainly helped. # As if seeing it for the first time he really investigated the room. The paper on the walls, the soft pastel colours and the images of baby animals in nappies were all really quite endearing. He was suddenly jealous of their innocence, half of him wished he could turn back the clock but then remembered his childhood hadn’t been all that wonderful. However, those smiling, happy images made him wish for better times. He wondered about the unmade crib and whilst nosing around in the drawers and closet noticed baby clothes and toys. He took out and examined one of the small white onesies that again was incredibly soft but so tiny only a new baby would fit into. He wasn’t sure if they were for a particular infant, or items from her shop. # She hadn’t told him about her lost child although they had talked about her husband and ‘Terry’ thought that perhaps his Good Samaritan might be pleased to have company for a little while. Although she seemed happy and organised he had wondered if she might be a bit lonely to have taken him in so readily. However, as he dried himself down he deliberated if she had kids of her own. She hadn’t mentioned it but the nursery setting meant she had, or was thinking about, babies. He was still thinking of that when he looked around for his clothes. As he’d arrived at Angela’s home wearing only the clothes on his back, his choice of attire was limited. He still had his jeans and shirt piled on a chair where he’d dumped them the previous night. However, also set out on the dresser, next to his phone, keys and small pile of change, were the washed white knickers and PJ bottoms she’d given him the night he arrived. They were a lot more comfortable to wear around the house so slipped into them and, barefooted, made his way to the kitchen. # “Angela.” “Yes Terry.” “My er, the spare room, the er, nursery… is that for your baby or stuff from work?” Angela knew that this observation would come at some point but was conflicted about telling the truth. “Mostly items from the shop.” She decided on keeping the real reason to herself, even though some of that stuff had been around for fourteen years or more. “I keep some things to check details, quality, you know, and make reports back to the suppliers.” She wasn’t sure if he believed her but it sounded plausible. “What about the wall paper?” “Er, well, er, it was like that when I took this place on and I, well, I thought it looked cute so just haven’t got around to re-doing that room yet.” She smiled through her lie hoping it would be the end of that particular line of questions. It was. # “Look,” ‘Terry’ said sheepishly, “I’m so sorry about all the extra work I made for you last night. I don’t mind doing the washing myself, I don’t see why you should be inconvenienced. I mean, you took me in and, er, this is not the payment you probably expected.” Angela looked at him in a strange and irritated way. “I didn’t… and don’t expect any payment.” She seemed aggravated. “You needed help and I was pleased I could offer it and… and… there is no rush on this… when you feel able to, I’m hopeful you’ll get on with your young life in a happier frame of mind.” The words streamed from her mouth but it was apparent she was angry at the very suggestion of some kind of payment. “I’m sorry,” ‘Terry’ gulped at the gaffe he realised he’d made. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.” He looked guiltily down at his bare feet. “I meant, erm, it was a poor way for me to repay your kindness by giving your more work… erm.. er... Oh, I’m sorry if it came out any other way.” Angela was pleased that he was a bit on the defensive because she hoped it would end the ‘nursery’ discussion. However, the main reason she was angry was that some kind of ‘payment’ had crossed her mind but probably not in a way ‘Terry’ would have thought. She instantly calmed down. “Of course sweetheart, I’m sorry I jumped down your throat.” She smiled an apology. “Of course you didn’t mean anything by it and you don’t have to worry. You can stay here until you are ready to move on. We need to get you that ‘new start’ you said you wanted.” She ran her hand down the chastised boy’s arm in a friendly manner. “Now… what would you like for breakfast?” # Part 6 Take your destiny out of the hands of others anon Angela’s house was bigger than something a single person might need. She and husband Joshua had fallen in love with its rural cuteness and proximity to the city: it seemed to have the best of both worlds. After his death, and the death of their child, she couldn’t bear to part with the only thing that linked them all together, so she stayed and her love for the place had increased with time. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else and, thanks to the huge insurance pay out, she didn’t need to find anywhere smaller. That was partly why she never re-furnished the much hoped for nursery. It was that one contact between them all and she simply hadn’t wanted to change things. Joshua, her darling doctor husband, had loved decorating the room ready for their first child. He’d done it on whim just two days after he’d been told the news Angela was expecting, and only a week before he died so tragically. No, the room stayed as it was and how it should have been. Those sweet little animals wearing nappies were just typical of her hubby. He was thoughtful, loving and soppy; all the things that had made Angela fall for him in the first place. # The property was a large, three bedroom detached house at the bottom of a cul-de-sac. It had plenty of land around it and the large back garden led down to a fence that separated it from a rough piece of common land full of weeds and tall grass. Downstairs the house had a large kitchen that led through to a utility room and garage on one side, whilst the other had a nice sized lounge and a similar sized dining room. Upstairs was Angela’s en-suite main bedroom, a small box-room, another family bathroom and a further two similar sized bedrooms. One had the nursery, the other, which would have been the child’s play-area, was full of junk Angela hadn’t got around to sorting out or throwing away. # From the moment she saw the young man about to commit suicide Angela’s submerged maternal feelings had surfaced. She wasn’t totally aware at the time but there was no doubt about it, she was definitely thinking nurturing thoughts about her guest. With the revelations about his life she became even more motherly and just wanted to protect the boy from a world that had so cruelly dumped on him. At work she’d been able to keep any maternal feelings under control. Surrounded by happy, weepy, terrified mothers (and mothers-to-be) she saw it as her duty to be caring but not to drown in the entire baby and baby clothing industry. One of the things that stopped her getting trapped in that hormonal clique was her ‘other’ customers, the ones who had a different take on the baby business. She loved the idea of grown-ups dressing and acting as toddlers or attempting to stem the rush to adulthood of certain children who needed more time. There appeared to be many different reasons for the ABDL community (she now knew her customer’s desires had a title) to want a shop like hers and was pleased to be able to satisfy that need. The mail order side of it alone had blossomed from absolutely nothing into a very lucrative part of the enterprise and Angela was satisfied with all the new suppliers and customers it brought her into contact with. She was surprised at just how big that particular community actually was and intrigued by many of her client’s requests, whilst being fascinated by the alternative ‘babies’ and ‘toddlers’ she met in store. # As word spreads throughout the ‘community’ these gatherings became more and more popular. On those special Sundays mummies and daddies brought their ‘little ones’ out for this brief, but much needed, social meeting. Kids, teens, and middle aged men and women, dressed in a variety of juvenile attire and often very thick protection, would somehow all be happily playing together, whilst their ‘carers’ looked on; exchanging stories, advice, buying new clothes and planning other more specialist purchases. Graham ‘Daddy’ Griffin was a rich, powerful looking man with a very gentle way of speech. He had two young teen boys he dressed as twin toddlers who always looked so sweet and innocent together. In their matching little outfits they would play together whilst ‘Daddy’ shopped. Their bulky nappies only partly contained in tiny shiny nylon shorts as the cuffs of their plastic pants peaked out from the leg-holes whilst they careered around the place. He lavished toys, gifts and the cutest of cute baby style clothes on them, which, as far as Angela was concerned, made them simply adorable. Since Mr Griffin and his boys had first entered Everything4Baby Angela had thought them the cutest of cute ‘families’. Many of her other customers played their part and acted as kids but this seemed more real. In fact it was very real and it aroused her curiosity. In a quiet moment, when she asked him how he was able to keep them so young and dependent on him, he confided it was down to constant positive reinforcement of their toddler status. Also, encouragement that they were both very good boys, a rather wonderful subliminal audio file he’d developed over the years and, he whispered as if it was the biggest secret of them all, “A file of Blueline30”. This last piece of information stuck in her mind. She had no idea what it was or what it might refer to but the name stuck. # Joshua was wet through. It was a Sunday afternoon and mummy needed to attend to other business so unfortunately had to desert him for some time. She hated leaving her Sweetums alone at all but occasionally, especially as the company was going through a bit of transition, it just couldn’t be helped. He had plenty of things in his large playpen to keep him occupied but for the last hour and a half he’d been crying on and off because his nappy was full and uncomfortable. Mummy had put him in an extra-large disposable with several thick gel absorbency pads in the hope that it would hold him until her return. It almost had but his rather cute little butterfly onesie, with matching plastic pants had reached its absorbent limits. There were four snaps at its crotch to hold the onesie in place. Unfortunately, the two middle ones had popped under the strain so her little bundle of joy looked like he’d had a medical accident. The huge bloated nappy had squeezed out of the gap and made it look like some huge growth had appeared between his legs. The butterfly motif on his plastic pants looked none too happy at being put under such stress. He stood holding the bars searching for any sign of mummy - his baby coordination not allowing him any chance of escape. Meanwhile, the pet lip and snivelling sobs made him one very unhappy baby. The TV was running a cartoon channel and the radio was tuned to a children’s music station, it was hoped that between them and his toys they would keep her little boy entertained until she returned. A low moan escaped the little chap’s lips as he plopped down, exhausted from all his crying and standing, hardly noticing the squelch as he landed on his padded bottom. The sudden pressure on his bloated protection burst the final two snaps and releasing his onesie, which flew up to his chest, leaving the startled boy staring at his swollen plastic pants. He didn’t know what to do so snatched up Bunny Fluffytail and clutched her tightly. Worried about the loss of his mummy, being alone and seeking some kind of comfort, he pushed the stuffed animal’s ear into his mouth and sucked. He hadn’t noticed that his dum-dum was on a ribbon pinned to his onesie just inches away. However, Bun-Bun’s ear was a comfort and eventually he sunk into a sleepy doze with his head resting against the bars of the playpen. # As soon as Angela had left for work ‘Terry’ cleaned up his mess, shoved it in the washer and tumble dried all the bedding. He really hated the fact that he’d wet and promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. He also wanted Angela to note that he wasn’t leaving everything to her; he was quite prepared to pull his weight, if she would let him. He found the vacuum cleaner and went around all the rooms lost for a short while in the sucking up of dust and worrying about nothing else. He left Angela’s room, thinking it would be a bit disrespectful to enter uninvited but made a mental note to explain why he had not ventured in. The house wasn’t in bad order but it was obvious that Angela was a very busy woman and had very little time for intense housekeeping. ‘Terry’ was happy to do his bit, cleaning the kitchen, organising the utility room and even ironing some of the items once they were dry. It didn’t take him long and once he’d plumped up the cushions, was happy to just lounge around with nothing more taxing than decide which TV channel to watch. # Whilst her guest had that to decide, Angela was in the throes of starting to make some significant changes to her work life. She had resolved that ‘Terry’ was too precious to leave to the vagaries of chance. He had met with nothing but abuse and harm his entire existence and was determined, one way or another, to change that for him. She was angry that such a sweet natured teenager should have suffered so much in his young life. As it was an opportunity arose for her to find out a little more about this ABDL thing that was now occupying a great deal of her business. A supplier had sent an order to the shop instead of direct to the customer. It was a pair of matching shortalls that Daddy Griffin had ordered for his twin boys so Angela put in a call asking if he’d like her to send them on or, if he was in the vicinity, perhaps he’d like to call in. He said he’d pick them up that lunchtime and, he added flirtily, if she was available he’d like to take her to lunch. Needing information she coyly accepted his invitation and hoped this man would provide it. # Perhaps unsurprisingly Angela’s most recent dream had featured, yet again, baby Joshua except with the face and teenage build of ‘Terry’. The dream was bizarre because this amalgamation of two different people didn’t concern her. In fact, in the dream, baby ‘Terry’ crawling around dressed only as an infant had appeared the most natural thing in the world. Even friends who were visiting appeared to accept this large child and everyone loved the cute, loving way he did everything. She’d woken up with this dream very much at the forefront of her mind and, together with the ABDL stuff she’d learned, wondered just how feasible it would be to transform Terry into a dependent little baby. Of course, she was having internal arguments about this game-changing course of action, but still, when she eventually settled the quarrel in her head, it ended up with Terry being with her but not as a teenager. That maternal feeling, the idea of being a mother and having someone completely dependent on her, was very powerful. Logic escaped her as she wondered if her ABDL friends and acquaintances might be able to help. She had no real idea just what steps, if any, needed to be taken, though Mr Griffin’s earlier chat about his boys had firmly planted a seed. # Angela had been unable to find any reference to Blueline30 on the net, although had found a great deal about various tones, rhythms and hypnosis. She’d read that for many Adult Babies/Diaper Lovers (she quite liked the term ‘Diapers’ but wondered if there was perhaps an English version, maybe the TNLL, The Nappy Lovers League?) their only involvement was the wearing of nappies and other childish regalia. For others there was a deeper need which liked a mummy and daddy relationship, whilst for different reasons, some needed to be coerced into a regressed but happier state of mind. This final condition of returning a person to childhood really appealed to her. She wondered about using a similar strategy on Terry and perhaps letting him once and for all, escape from the rotten life that seemed to have engulfed him. # She had taken to ‘Terry’ the second she’d seen this distraught young boy contemplating ending his life. Angela remembered being swamped with concern and compassion, feelings that overwhelmed her to the point her unintended emotions took complete control. She hadn’t known the backstory then yet everything she saw in those initial few seconds screamed at her to look after this boy. What psychic power, what interference from God, what blessings from above had suddenly entered her thoughts, she had no idea. However, she knew instantly she had to protect this child. Unbeknown to both the seed for Gordon’s /Terry’s adoption and regression had been there from that very first sighting. Her soothing initial words, that first understanding touch and the deep desire to be loved by the seriously scared youth clinging to the railings and about to jump to his death, had been Kismet. Fate and fortune intertwined, their future forever interlocked. Although neither was aware of it, both parties needed something, someone in their lives. The stars had aligned and their destiny became one. Gordon didn’t know it but Angela instinctively knew her life was about to change. She had a vision of that future almost immediately, why or where these thoughts /ideas/desires came from was unknown but they had assailed her in several ways. Somehow she knew that this grubby young teenager was destined to be in her life for a long time. She didn’t exactly know how but intended to see it through and hoped that the reason would present itself eventually. # Over lunch Graham Griffin proved to be wonderful company. For the first time in many years Angela was able to relax in the presence of another man. Not that she’d been off-hand or terrified in the past, it was just that there was always a guilty feeling that she was somehow betraying her late husband by even speaking with another man. Graham was different. He was polite, respected boundaries, was playful in the way he addressed her and wasn’t in the least bit pushy, letting Angela lead the conversation. As the lunch progressed Graham (they were now on first name terms) was full of praise for how Angela had taken Everything4Baby and managed to develop it so well. He told her how much it was appreciated by the ‘community’ that she had made space for them to meet and how clever it was to hold that gathering in the shop – the latest baby ranges giving everyone new and exciting ideas. They valued the lengths she had gone to in developing new suppliers, fostering novel ideas, encouraging innovation in parallel with her main business, and in such diverse ways. He also made known that because of her meetings, others planned on having ABDL gatherings at their homes or premises. So the group was becoming even friendlier and more community spirited. Because of this, he tentatively asked if she herself had such preferences, then immediately apologised for being so forward and presumptive that it was something she would share with a relative stranger. # She flushed a bright red and again Graham apologised for being so invasive but she waved her hand to indicate he had no reason to express regret but confirmed she herself had no such desires. However, Angela decided to tell him a few things that she hoped would explain her current interest in all things ABDL but first asked if this smart debonair man wore nappies and such himself. His face split into a huge grin as he laughed out loud. “No, no, no… I love to see them on others and I can understand why some love to wear them but for myself, no.” He elucidated. “My interest is in my boys. When I first knew about them they were young tearaways heading for a rather gloomy existence. Their past had been horrendous and they’d been horribly scarred by their juvenile life… parents, (he shrugged and sighed) an uncaring and hostile environment. I wanted to change that.” This of course struck a chord with Angela. “I’d like to say I did it for the best of reasons but, in truth, they give me far more than I can give them.” He looked down at his empty plate. “I fear I’ve robbed them of growing up to be noisy, naughty, mistake-making, uncaring teenagers, growing into adulthood.” He looked Angela in the eyes. “I love my boys and would do anything for them but I can’t let them ever be anything but toddlers. I’d hate the world to crush them and I have no doubt that the direction they were going, and the choices they’d already made, that would have happened.” He gave a huge sigh. “I can prevent that so they can have a stress-free life of nappies and toys, playtime and fun for as long as I have the ability to give it to them.” He was surprised after such a confession that Angela wasn’t being judgemental. She’d seen how happy and loving the boys were when she had met them on previous occasions at those Sunday meetings. How keen they were to do as daddy said and how polite they were to everyone. They almost glowed with pride if daddy praised them, which he often did, and they would giggle and wriggle in a joyously boyish way before getting back to their play. Graham confessed further that when he’d put the boys in nappies at the very beginning he thought they looked so damn cute and innocent it was difficult seeing them in any other way. It became the prototype look, the one that he based all other decisions on. So, that’s how they were kept, reliant on ‘daddy’ to change and look after them and for them to remain unsophisticated - pure and infantile. # Angela was more than a bit surprised that her lunchtime companion should have spoken so openly about his boys, and yet she understood perfectly. Was this not the way she hoped to help Terry achieve his ambition of a new start? Was this not exactly the same scenario that might just lead to complete contentment on both his and her part? She was excited to know more. Part 7 To reach your peak, there are many steps to climb Mary Rutherford (1701-1754) Baby Joshua snuggled up to mummy’s bosom, he loved the way she held him tightly - it was such a warm embrace. He wriggled blissfully as he sucked his favourite drink, his mummy encouraging each enjoyable mouthful, saying what a good boy Little Joshi was. She’d pat his padded bottom and slide her hand over the silky vinyl admiring the soft but necessary bulk beneath. Joshua had proved to be a very wet boy who needed his protection especially when he was getting ready to go ‘night-night’. The double fabric nappies and soaker pads making sure her bundle of joy kept his bedding dry no matter how swamped he got whilst sleeping. He squirmed some more as he finished his drink and mummy lifted to burp him before returning her sweet baby back to her loving embrace. Joshua settled his head between mummy’s soft breasts and gurgled his pleasure. Angela slipped a large silicon dum-dum in and let him slowly drift off, which he nearly always did once his darling little tummy was full of milk. Mummy purred and gently rocked him, not quite believing that her life was now complete. His innocent unconditional love and total dependence on her may have been time consuming but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She loved everything about Baby Joshua; his baby talk, his baby clothes, his smiling face, the way his eyes lit up when she picked him up and his lack of any understanding apart from “Mummy”. She loved the way he giggled when tickled and changed. She found that he offered her so much more than she anticipated – he was such an adorable little boy. # “What is Bluefile30?” Angela queried. “I could find no reference to it online so feel it’s something I should know about but don’t.” “Ah. I see you’ve been doing some research.” Graham smiled. “That’s what I call it. It’s a neural inhibitor but the title is so damn technical I can never exactly remember it all. However, it comes to me in a glass file with a blue line down it and it is graduated into thirty doses.” He smiled again as if hoping this explained everything. “Thus Blueline30… you understand?” Angela nodded but still felt none the wiser. Graham could see her confusion. “Erm, let me try and explain.” He lowered his voice and Angela drew nearer to be able to hear his whispered tone. “This drug has the mechanism to stop certain actions and responses that say, you and I take for granted, from reaching the brain…er… in particular the pre-frontal cortex.” He looked to see if Angela was following his line of conversation. She was very interested even if she did find it all a bit difficult to follow. He explained some more about the technical and psychological as well as chemical and neurological reactions this drug offered but ended with the phrase that stuck in Angela’s mind. “In return it makes access to the amygdala area, the area that has more to do with childhood, open up and respond to very simple instruction.” She nodded sagely but inside her stomach had butterflies – was this the panacea? Was this the actual thing she needed to fulfil her nurturing desires? She was enthused and needed to know more. # “It has helped me, and I have to confess one or two others, in taking our ‘babies’ back to a simpler time. It regresses the mind, breaks down resistance and makes the subject far more acquiescent to suggestion. Thus, when used in conjunction with positive enforcement, certain deep subliminal words and sound waves, it releases various pleasure neurons which make the subject very, very happy.” Angela was captivated by the possibilities and suddenly saw a real opportunity opening up in front of her. She was excited at the prospect of what she’d be able to do and what the happy result would be for ‘Terry’. The new start he wanted looked like it was a distinct possibility. “Is it safe?” It was a question that Angela asked but wondered if she was all that bothered about the answer… and she felt slightly guilty that this negative thought had flashed through her brain. “Well, Andy and Jamie (his boys) have been on it for some time now. The doses are a lot smaller and less frequent and my only complaint is… they’re just too loving.” She nodded but wanted further clarification. “What did you mean by ‘it stops certain actions and responses you and I take for granted’?” Graham leaned in even further and whispered his response. “The plus side - the recipient is very loving but the most obvious and immediate reaction to the drug is it removes any control over the bladder... and a little later… the bowel.” He shrugged apologetically as if he was offering a warning to the downside of the treatment. “So, a supply of nappies and all sorts of other protection is needed from the start. Being well prepared from the very beginning is paramount. I’m used to it with my boys so it’s not a problem but at first I wasn’t expecting such instant and dramatic results.” His eyes lit up as they always appeared to do when he referenced his boys. He grinned. “They constantly want to be held, hugged, kissed… and changed… I never get a moment’s peace.” He let out a huge belly laugh. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way… they give me a life that I love and I love my boys.” # Angela’s mind was buzzing with all this information - the opportunities and possibilities that had suddenly presented themselves. She had confided in Graham that she could do with some Blueline30 because of an errant nephew who was getting way out of hand. She didn’t go into too much detail but flippantly told him that it seemed a wonderful ‘cure all’ to such a problem. The boy had been a wonderful and beautiful baby, it was a shame he couldn’t be returned to such a state. Angela schemed a little by painting this ‘nephew’ in similar colours to Graham’s own boys – on a downward slope heading for a criminal future etc etc. She made it sound like unfortunately nothing could be done for him as he was probably too far down that road to self-oblivion. Graham had sympathy with the situation and offered (as Angela hoped he would) to get a file and bring it in the following day when he’d have the boys with him. She thanked him but tried to deflect him from thinking it was for her use by wondered if her ‘sister’ would go along with such treatment. However, she added, it might be worth a try. # Despite the excitement that was bubbling inside her about such a prospect she changed the subject and asked where the boys were. Apparently Graham’s sister was looking after them. They called her Nanny and she took as much joy from their childish ways as their daddy. “What a fantastic idea… to have a nanny… that must be such a help?” Angela was now forever on a quest for more and more knowledge. “Yes, yes it is.” He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry Angela but, help or no help, I need to collect my boys… and no doubt you need to return to the shop.” “Good heaven’s… is that the time?” She picked up her things and handed the package of coveralls to Graham. “I’m sure Jamie and Andy will look delightful in these… I look forward to seeing them… sometime.” They parted with a smile, a shake of hands and a promise that he’d return the following day. # Later that evening when she arrived home her mind was full of all manner of plans. She had already spoken to some of her suppliers and got quotes and given instruction for new specialised items to be delivered to her home. Angela could see the future from her perspective and was eager to get things underway. She was pleased to see that Terry had hoovered and tidied the place up a bit and that he had started preparing a meal for them both. “You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble Terry… but thank you… it is appreciated.” He was delighted he’d been able to please her. “No trouble at all, however, I didn’t vacuum your bedroom, erm, sorry but, I, er, thought it a bit presumptuous to enter your space. She smiled at his respectful manner and again thanked him for his thoughtfulness. The fact that such hesitation to do anything that might upset her was also pleasing to her plans. The other gratifying thing was – he was only dressed in her floral pyjama pants and a t-shirt, which simply emphasised his adolescent quality. Whilst he continued preparing the meal Angela went upstairs to change out of her clothes and to put on something a little more comfortable. Before she did she inspected the nursery and saw how tidy he’d made it and even how comfy the inflatable looked with its clean and fresh bedding nicely laid out. However, she was now full of ideas so before venturing back downstairs to join Terry for the meal she lay out a pair of semi-transparent plastic pants and a disposable on top of his bed. She wasn’t going to insist he wear them but hoped that he would feel compelled into doing so if she could make him feel guilty about wetting before they retired for the evening. # The meal was a pasta dish that Terry had cobbled together using a can of soup, and a mixture of ham, cheese and a few mixed herbs to make the sauce. Angela was impressed that such a young boy (she just couldn’t see him as a young man) had such culinary skills. There was a huge amount and perhaps surprisingly delicious, she was impressed that he was being so helpful. They sat and chatted for a while before she excused herself to do some work on her laptop and left him to watch TV on his own. She spent a couple of hours catching up and responding to email and other queries and was overjoyed to get a message from a firm that said they had the item she’d requested in stock. Delivery and erection could be made in 24 hours if desired and that the other items would take approximately four days. She was pretty pleased with the efficiency of this particular supplier but she had given him a great deal of business over the past few years. # Later, she returned with a hot drink for them both and they settled in front of the TV for a drama and the late news. However, once he’d finished it, and it was time to retire, she wondered if perhaps having tea so close to bed time had been a good idea. It was a very obvious hint but she didn’t exactly say the words about him not soaking the bed. However, she did imply that there were precautions left out should he want to avail himself of them. With that she excused herself, wished him a goodnight and climbed the stairs leaving Terry to contemplate what had just been said. He had no inkling as to what exactly those precautions might be so shrugged, took the empty cups into the kitchen, and washed them before calling it a day. He was astonished to see what Angela had left out. Under normal circumstances he’d have rebelled against such babyish items, even though they were the correct size for him. He had wet the bed twice and almost convinced himself he wouldn’t do it again but still there was a nagging doubt whether he’d succeed. However, the resentment that such items instilled brought on flashbacks to when his older brothers and sister made him wear nappies for their own amusement. # From a very early age they had used the fact that he was the youngest, and therefore most compliant, to entertain them by making him wet his pants. He was late to be potty trained and that seemed the excuse to continue his embarrassment. It wasn’t always his fault, often, as he slept, they would piss on him so that it looked like he’d pissed himself during the night. His mother, unaware of the truth (she wouldn’t believe her youngest son’s excuses over the united voices of her other children), so insisted he wore a nappy until she was sure he wouldn’t wet again. His siblings loved to humiliate him in this way and made sure everyone knew what he was wearing, often pulling his shorts or jeans down to reveal the cumbersome infantile fabric. The abuse lasted until he was thirteen, and a couple of times since then, but his family never tired of this particular joke. However much he hated the way he’d been treated in the past he couldn’t really blame Angela’s solution - wet disposable-versus-wet bedding - it seemed a simple choice. Reluctantly he saw he had no real option, if he wet again he dreaded being thrown out and the smell in the nursey was getting far too obvious. Grudgingly he taped himself into the well-padded disposable. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to do it but he’d hoped it would be the last. There was no mirror to check it was fitted correctly but it did feel tight on his hips. The misty vinyl pants were ample enough to cover his nappy and as he climbed under the fleecy blankets he had a happier memory. The last time he’d worn such an item it resulted in him winning a quarter of a million. He snuggled down with a smile on his face. # To begin with he felt most uncomfortable. His mind raced as thoughts of his family who’d stolen and spent every penny he’d earned, without so much as a thought for him, both angered and left him distraught. He’d become the ‘money cow’ (that’s what his eldest brother had nicknamed him) delivering money and being milked of it. The rest of them just used his name to get things and they abused other people in doing so. Many of the things that he was accused of doing were a result of his money-grabbing, attitude-wielding scumbag of a family but he got the blame. It was them who turned the public against him and it was they who had eventually killed the golden goose. The heat from the nappy and the frustration he felt made him boil with resentment. He tossed and turned, scratched and itched, he was sure he’d never sleep with all the thick, hot fabric and the diaphanous plastic pants surrounding his groin. However, like most teenage boys he soon found a way to help relax. With a hand inside his nappy it didn’t take long to get the release needed and settle down to what he hoped would be another wonderful night’s sleep. Whereas previously he’d been able to drop off without the slightest trouble, now his mind was working on making sure he didn’t wet. He had a fitful night, constantly waking up and being relieved, when he shoved his hand down the front of the protection to find he was dry… if just a bit sticky. This happened a few times, the last being just as the light from behind the curtains indicated that dawn had almost arrived. He was part dozing and part awake but pleased that he’d managed to get through the night with no accidents. Stroking the front of his lustrous pants his mind was relaxed as he slowly drifted off back to sleep. # Angela came into Terry’s room and was pleased that there wasn’t that tell-tale smell of urine that had been so obvious on previous occasions. She could tell he was still fast asleep but, because the blankets had fallen off the bed, happy to discover that he was wearing the protection she’d left out. She also noticed that the semi-transparent pants were bulging quite considerably which indicated the disposable had served its purpose. There was something sweet and childlike as she watched the slow rise and fall of his breathing. He squirmed slightly and his plastic pants gave off that rather telling, if muted, rustling sound, the bright blue indicator strips could be seen through the translucent material and his lips were shiny with dribble as he turned to face her. She didn’t want to break the spell but as she had to go to work and needed to set a couple of other ideas of hers in motion had to wake him. # Calling his name she gently shook him awake. “Terry, Terry… Terry, wake up love there’s something I need to ask you.” Slowly his eyes focused and he was aware of Angela’s smiling face in front of him. “Sorry to wake you up, I just wondered, if you’re up for it, and things aren’t too heavy… if you could do something for me?” He lazily stretched and noticed the blanket had fallen away and he was lying there wearing only a nappy and plastic pants. He made a scramble for the blanket to try and cover up but shamefacedly realised that Angela would have noticed that his disposable was expanded and soaked. She saw the embarrassment add colour to his skin. She smiled encouragingly. “Oh Terry, don’t worry, it’s better to use the disposable than have everything else sopping wet.” Her kind words didn’t really lift the gloom that he was feeling. However, he tried to respond to her earlier question. “What is it you want me to do?” “Oh yes, I think we need to make some changes to your room…” He noticed she had said “Your room” “So, if you can, and stuff isn’t too heavy, could you take the crib down to the garage and then, all the boxes in the other bedroom room need to be cleared out. If you could store them down there as well, that would be terrific.” Absentmindedly his hand stroked the front of his bloated diaphanous plastic pants as he listened to her request. Angela noticed, or maybe read into this particular scene, that his sodden nappy and slick vinyl pants were the focus of his attention in such a distracted way. There was something very innocuous about it all, as if he didn’t really mind that much. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to manage it all but any help you can give would be most appreciated. Leave what you can’t carry and perhaps this evening we can organise its removal together?” “Sure. I’ll do what I can.” He gave her a weak smile and hoped she’d leave ‘his room’ so he could be embarrassed on his own. # Part 8 Don't grow up, it's a trap! Peter Pan After he’d heard the door bang shut and car drive off Gordon lay on the bed and ran his hand over his bloated night time protection. There was no denying that it had done its job perfectly well but there was still a slight nagging resentment at the back of his mind - Christ he was twenty years old and shouldn’t be wetting his pants at all. However, he was pleased he’d made the decision to wear the disposable because he was sure Angela wouldn’t put up with any more soaked bedding. He lay there thinking of her words “Your room” and began to relax a little… that seemed very positive. He had no idea why he was wetting at night but whilst he did… perhaps wearing a nappy to sleep in was not a bad price to pay for a roof over his head and a kind lady who was doing her best for him? As his thoughts played with the possibilities his hand distractedly played with the soft silky mound; it was curiously sexy, childish and comforting and he enjoyed the sensation. He knew it was still fairly early so rolled over, pulled the fleecy blankets back over and drifted back to sleep. His dream was almost instant and found himself in a world where he wore a nappy and everyone was smiling. There was no shock or ridicule, everyone seemed pleased to see him and admired his cute colourful protection. This was a world without his family, the press, the trolls on social media… it was a very happy place to be. He was smiling a lot and, until he came to stay with Angela, it was something he hadn’t enjoyed doing for quite some time. # As mummy led him out Joshua was alarmed to find two others in his playpen. They were both smiling boys who were dressed like him - thick nappies, plastic pants and white cotton t-shirts with huge colourful but different dinosaurs printed on the front. At first he was a bit scared of these newcomers but one of them offered him a small but cute looking “dinoroar” (as the new boy called it) and then made him smile behind his dummy when he started dancing and ‘singing’ and pulling faces pretending to be the fierce creature. Joshi wasn’t sure but then the other started crawling around growling, soon all three were holding animals and making whatever noises they thought appropriate. Although the other two boys had a much better vocabulary than Joshi, they seemed more than happy to join with the youngest member of their tight little pack in just making noise. Mummy and Daddy looked on, happy that this first meeting hadn’t been the problem they thought it might be. The babies hugged and swayed whilst having a conversation that the two adults couldn’t understand but which the little kids did. Gibberish babble soon had the juvenile trio deep in playtime, where the newness of the meeting had been immediately forgotten. The huge plastic area of his playpen crinkled and squeaked, as they squealed and screeched, in a joyful fantasy of their own making. # Gordon woke up from his pleasant dream to find his nappy expanded to capacity. This time he actually remembered the moment just before waking up when he’d voluntarily peed, enjoying the warming sensation that followed. He couldn’t understand why it had given his so much pleasure. He threw back the covers and, despite being only slightly annoyed that he’d done what he’d done, was glad that nothing else was wet. He got to his feet and was amazed just how much his disposable held because it felt so big and heavy hanging in his glossy plastic pants. He was a bit thrown by his emotional state, whereas, only yesterday wetting the bed had caused him great concern, today, with it all contained, he felt bizarrely elated. Standing contemplating this turn of events he ran his hands over the shiny plastic and realised it was they and they alone that was keeping everything in. He wiggled his hips - the weighty bulk providing a peculiar buzz. He began to dread taking them off in case his piss just flooded out everywhere. Also, and perhaps inexplicably, he didn’t want to take them off. His mind raced to find some kind of rationalisation because he knew he should be horrified; had his family’s past exploits schooled him into believing this was acceptable or was he simply relieved that he hadn’t wet the bed and such a reprieve was showing up in this odd way? He swayed again, the morning sunlight catching his straining shiny plastic pants and for a moment made them glow – it looked like his groin was encased in polished silver. # Angela was full of plans. She couldn’t wait for Graham to arrive but in the meantime, in between serving her eager mums-to-be, managed to organise the delivery of her latest project. She hoped Terry would be able to move most of the stuff from his room and the spare room because she had big plans for both areas. Two young boys dressed in junior school uniforms were her first indication that Graham had arrived. Excitedly, the two giddy kids, looking well-turned-out in the uniforms of an independent school over in the next city – grey shirt and shorts, purple and grey tie and purple blazers, greeted her with a hug. She was just as pleased to see them as they were her and handed them both a lollipop, which she kept for just such occasions. “Tank yew Miss,” they chorused. As the boys hugged Angela she could hear the crinkle of plastic pants and could see the thick outline of their protection filling out their stylish little grey corduroy shorts. As daddy entered the shop she patted their bottoms and pointed them towards the latest arrivals in the toy section. “Morning Angela,” he beamed. “Morning Graham, nice to see Andy and Jamie looking so smart… are they going somewhere special?” “They’re visiting friends a little later but were very excited when I told them they were coming to see you first… you seem to have been a great hit with them.” “Oh, I hope so; they’re both very sweet boys.” # She was desperate to know if he’d brought the Blueline30 but was content to go along with the pleasantries first. Graham was a very easy man to talk to and even some of the other lady customers turned their heads to admire this smart and dignified man with two young children in tow. They may have been a little bigger than what you’d expect of junior schoolboys but the uniform was quite prestigious because this high-class learning establishment was well known at being sticklers for wearing the correct uniform at all times. The private school’s illustrious status also indicated that the wearers of such a uniform came from a very well to do family of privilege and money. To Graham this was just another form of camouflage to keep people from asking too many questions. Both boys were actually teenagers but they behaved and had the mental and verbal capacity of toddlers, which was how their daddy liked to keep them. So he’d adapted several outfits that the boys could wear in public that wouldn’t draw too many searching questions; schoolboys, cub scouts, football and other sports strips. Although he could quite easily have dressed them ‘age appropriately’ he was of the opinion that they would have trouble with their peers and that it would only add confusion to their innocent demeanour. Wearing childish clothing may have led to ridicule from their peers, though in fact it just made these older children not want to be involved with such ‘babies’, so they kept their distance. The boys didn’t know any different, like all toddlers, they wore whatever daddy dressed them in. As long as they didn’t have to answer questions things were OK. However, they’d been instructed that if anyone spoke to them they had to run and find daddy immediately. So far this little deception had worked fairly well. # Back at the house and Gordon was still dressed in his night time protection but had already cleared the crib and other bits and pieces from his room down to the garage. He enjoyed being busy, as well, bizarrely, the feeling his ballooning nappy was giving him. Quite a few times he’d stop and run his hands over the distended plastic mass and shiver with delight at this slippery marvel. The other room was full of boxes, cases, trunks and an assortment of old clothing. Still, he’d been asked to empty the entire room so just got on with Angela’s request. He struggled with a few of the weightier items but was determined to have the job done before Angela returned from work. He was also wondering just what her plans were for both rooms. He’d taken her “Your room” as proof that he wasn’t going to be kicked out any time soon, although why he thought he’d become a permanent fixture he wasn’t sure. The thing was, in just a very short time he’d come to rely on Angela as a ‘mother’ figure. It was true that his first thought was that she maybe wanted some kind of ‘toyboy’ but her approach towards care and understanding had definitely been more maternal than carnal. He’d dismissed the sex side of things pretty rapidly because of the way she’d shot him down when he spoke of ‘payment’. However, she had said that once he was on a more even keel, and felt he could sort out his problems, he would no doubt be on his way. This was the last thing he wanted. He definitely didn’t want to go anywhere and would do all he could to stay under such a caring person’s roof because quite simply – he felt both safe and loved. Meanwhile, as he looked around the now empty second bedroom he hoped that one of the rooms would include a more permanent bed for him. He let his mind wonder as to how he’d like ‘his room’ decorated and the bedding he’d choose… He had no idea what Angela had in store for him. # Quite some time before Terry arrived in Angela’s life the ABDL side of the business was already doing very well. The mail order had grown from nothing to quite a thriving little industry in its own right. However, it was the variety of people and interested parties this lifestyle brought into Angela’s sphere she liked the most. It was different, it was a little spooky, it was loving, it was cute but occasionally it was scarily innovative. Angela had become obsessed with how Andy and Jamie acted. They weren’t ABDL people, they were regressed teenagers who were kept as toddlers for their own good, well, for their daddy’s good actually, but she didn’t see anything wrong with that. All she saw was two big kids enjoying a carefree life full of love and concern. They wanted for nothing and in Graham they had a ‘daddy’ who would move Heaven and Earth for their happiness. Of course, the greater part of her ABDL customers were nothing like these two boys. They were grown-ups with certain childish desires but who in the main operated as grown-ups the majority of the time. However, her plan was to have Terry the same way Graham had his boys. This desire on her part had come to her very quickly once she had Terry in her home. It appeared that in just a couple of days, after the initial normal response to a scared and suicidal teenager, Angela, armed with what just could be done to people like Andy and Jamie, had set herself on an innovative course of her own. Terry needed love and by the sound of things, hadn’t received much of that so far in his life. Angela wanted to change his circumstances, alter his references, obliterate the negative from his past and let him experience unreserved love from the very beginning… his beginning… his new start. # Graham passed a small package over to her and, keeping his voice low, reminded her that it was important that the dose shouldn’t be exceeded. “An overdose could prove very problematic, you might never get your nephew back, and he’d be forever lost as an incontinent, needy juvenile.” Angela nodded that she understood. An email the previous night explaining Blueline30’s effects and how it needed to be administered with care had proved most interesting reading. He also gave her a copy of his own subliminal audio file to help in his conditioning. “Play this to him as often as you can and have it playing when he goes to sleep. You might find that after the first dose he will be easier to control and will respond more quickly to your suggestions if his mind already thinks a certain way” “You mean more childish?” Graham nodded. Angela didn’t know if Graham had already sussed that the drug was for her personal project but he never questioned her motives. In many ways Graham and Angela were very much alike; they had tons of love to give but had been deprived of that outlet for one reason or another. She had a great deal of time for both him and his boys. # Gordon was sweating profusely. He’d managed to clear everything out of the spare bedroom and stack it neatly (even if he did say so himself) in the garage. He let out a sigh of contentment at a job well done. It was 2pm and he still wore his soaked nappy, he hadn’t bothered to get changed thinking that as there was no one else around he didn’t need to. However, he was beginning to itch a little and thought it time to take a shower and change into some daytime clothes. Once he’d stripped he felt strangely naked without his full nappy. That thickness and silky outer skin had captivated him all morning and now suffering its loss wriggled distractedly under the warming jets. Perhaps he was just realising how heavy it had become and relieved now he’d discarded the weight. However, his thoughts were not on what he was going to wear once out of the shower but looking forward to hopefully having to wear his night time protection again. Angela had noticed the fact that he was wet so he did a little dance of pleasure when he thought she would insist he stuck to wearing protection later on. He checked his bottom and groin and could see that it was all looking a little redder than it should. He searched in the cabinet and found some moisturising cream and some talc and spread them around the glowing parts before putting on his underwear and the pyjama bottoms. His t-shirt barely came down to the top but he felt comfortable padding around barefoot exactly as he was. He even planned on making a special meal for when Angela got home. # Things were moving at a rapid pace. In such a short space of time Angela had made decisions, come to conclusions and put her plans into place to make sure Terry would have his new start. She was determined that he would know love from the very first moment and that that love was constant and unwavering. His new start would be just that; a brand new start from the very beginning. He’d know the love only a mother can give so she needed him to be totally reliant on her for everything. A teenage boy was fairly independent and Terry had been so far, even if it had all got too much for him. She would take him back to a new childhood and away from any grown up worries. She would make sure he got his new start and, armed with the file of Blueline30, couldn’t wait to get the process underway. As Angela drove home she was feeling well equipped; she already had the nappies, disposables, vinyl pants and suitable clothing for her ‘Little Baby Boy’ organised in the boot of her car. The following day the crib she ordered would arrive so that would be a very good starting point. She also had workmen planned to construct the nursery and then build the playroom – her new baby would have plenty of space for fun. # Later, after another pretty successful meal, as they sat watching the final news story of the night something happened that made Angela look at Terry in a most disbelieving way. # Part 9 Change me not the child, his purity is divine Rev Llewelyn Farnsby (1873 – 1952) “Concern has been raised over the whereabouts of former reality TV star Gordon Littlewood after a disturbing video has been uploaded onto social media.” There then followed the newsreader giving a potted analysis of his career featuring a montage of clips of Gordon’s time on ‘There and Then - Here and Now’ and a series of unedifying headlines about his downfall in the public consciousness. “The recently released video shows twenty year-old Mr Littlewood being abused by several men...” Angela looked at Terry in complete disbelief. How come this schoolboy was being described as a twenty year-old former TV personality? She was shocked but not as shocked as Terry who looked both sad and terrified as tears streamed down his cheeks. The newsreader continued. “…whilst his anxious family revealed there has been no contact with the former television personality for several weeks...” A further montage of photographs, including one of him dressed as a baby on the show continued. “His distressed family are worried that he may have been kidnapped, although no ransom has yet been received.” There was then a short but tearful interview with his mother who, fearing the loss of her youngest son was in a highly emotional state. “The police are continuing their investigation but anyone knowing the whereabouts of Gordon Littlewood should notify the police immediately.” # A stunned silence followed. # “What the hell was all that about?” Angela was very confused. “Terry, what is going on?” “Sorry, Sorry, Sorry” Terry’s apology could hardly be heard. His head was spinning out of control as his body simply submerged itself in anguish. He felt his life collapsing in on him and the wail of misery couldn’t be contained. Although Angela was mystified by the news story she’d just witnessed, there was a young boy next to her crying his eyes out and in desperate need of some kind of solace. She pulled him into an embrace and stroked his hair. Sorrow wracked his body and, in between huge gulps for air, all he could mumble was the word “sorry”. Even though she’d just heard that the little innocent boy she comforted was a television star and twenty years old, she found it hard to equate the two. Terry was a sweet boy, whereas Gordon, according to the news reports, was a vile young man. # Angela held Terry tightly until the sobbing lessened. Eventually he couldn’t put off his defence much longer. “I’m so sorry Angela. I’ve been trying to avoid my past for ages now… erm… I’m sorry I lied to you but I, er, thought, um, if you knew who I was, erm….” The words dried up as emotion got the better of him and he hugged her and wept some more. There was no denying that for Terry, the comfort of Angela’s warm embrace, made him feel safe though he was unsure just what this news would mean. Probably that he’d be on his way very soon, but whilst he could he wanted her to know how much her kindness was valued. Angela decided to stay silent until he’d said his piece. The Blueline30 that was just inches away in her handbag would have to wait now that a rather large spanner had been thrown into the works. The word ‘Sorry’ was mumbled in between Terry’s sniffs and blubbing. It gave her time to think. # In due course Terry was able to pull himself together and explain what she’d just seen in the news report. Yes, he had been on a TV reality show. He had won a quarter of a million and his family had taken it all. His mother insisting that his eldest brother looked after his finances, whilst the rest of them would be employed in other ways. He described the relief he felt whilst in the TV house away from his family, a few weeks of total bliss. The tasks they had to perform and the humiliation designed for the titillation of viewers was as of nothing compared to his constant violation at home. Once he’d won the show his family took full advantage and, he pleaded his innocence with Angela, that most of the bad press was as a result of his rotten family using his celebrity. Angela listened without asking questions. He looked so small and scared and despite everything, she could still only see him as a frightened and suicidal little boy - the fact that he was dressed in such a kiddie way; barefoot, floral pyjama bottoms and t-shirt only added to her concern. # He explained the video that had been uploaded and had caused the concern… and yes that was his mother showing how emotional she was about the situation and with a sniff added. “She should get an Oscar for that ‘caring’ performance.” He clarified that at his most depressed he fell in with a group who had recognised him and offered to help. However, all they were interested in was having ‘fun’ with this dejected celebrity so used and abused him in ways he’d really rather not talk about. Angela nodded, seeing how much pain he was in just telling the absolute minimum, she knew how bad it must have been. “I’d been walking the streets for a couple of days since they let me go… until you found me.” He looked at her. “I’m really sorry Angela but your kindness was the first time someone actually cared about me, not knowing who I was… it was fantastic… and I worried that, er, if you found out you’d like me less.” # Terry spoke a great deal about how much, in just the few days he’d known her, he saw there were kindness, empathy and understanding in a world which he’d been keen to leave. He told her that had she not turned up when she did, he would have jumped simply because he had nothing to live for. At the end of his story Angela knew more, understood more and didn’t blame Terry for doing and saying what he had. She wanted to look out for this sad young man and all that he’d described tugged even more on her heartstrings. His life had been rotten, it needed a drastic change, she was more determined than ever to give him the new start he so craved. Finally she looked him straight in the eyes. “OK Terry, er, Gordon, er, Mr Littlewood there is only one thing I need to know.” Terry looked scared but knew this moment was coming, the moment when he’d be kicked out and he’d have to sort out his own life without the influence of his guardian angel. “Do you still want a new start?” This wasn’t the question he was expecting and she’d asked it in such a quiet enquiring manner, not an ultimatum or in anger, it was more like a secret request. He was pleased and his heart skipped a couple of beats as he thought of a future… a future he was unsure of but at least he was going to get help from Angela in achieving it. He was happy. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.” “Good,” Angela smiled. # The Blueline30 stayed in her bag. She had planned to administer the first dose in the final drink of the night. For the moment that had to be put on temporary hold as Angela thought about a course of action. “You’ll never get a new start if the police are looking for you so… I suggest you let them know you are safe…” “No, no.” Terry became a little agitated. “They’ll insist that my family gets involved and I don’t want that to happen…” “I realise that.” Angela was being very reassuring. She’d surprised herself with how quickly she came up with what she hoped would be a solution but first wanted to sleep on it, toss the idea around before revealing it to Terry. “You don’t have to worry Ter, er, Gord, er… no, you don’t have to worry. Trust me. I’ll be with you every step of the way and I won’t let your family, or the police, take you away.” It was silly really. He was actually over the legal age and could do what he liked. However, Angela still saw him as a little boy and the grateful look on his cherubic face didn’t detract from that image. Terry looked positively relieved at her comforting words. However, I think we need to sleep on it so… time for bed.” # She’d already laid out another disposable and a pair of pale blue plastic pants on his bed and whilst there had picked up Terry’s useless phone and hoped to get it to work. He was happy to see the protection and this time there was no resentment as he taped himself in and pulled on the sleek cover. Smoothing them against his groin he gave a huge sigh; one of relief, mixed with one of pleasure. He climbed under the fleecy blankets and bounced around a little on the inflatable bed as he got comfortable. Terry was a little more relaxed now he thought Angela was on his side and determined to help in some way. She popped her head around the door. “Terry, you’ve been through a lot so… I have this relaxing music I use if I get agitated or too many thoughts are rushing around in my head. I find it helps give me a good night’s sleep.” She plugged in the player and switched it on without Terry saying much but nodded his approval. Graham Griffin’s audio file started low. “I’m sure you’ll find it as beneficial as… well… it’s designed to remove nightmares and fill your head with relaxed thoughts as the gentle sounds register in your subconscious.” She said this in a rather airy, light-hearted, dismissive way as if she didn’t quite believe its qualities herself, but she was acting. She really didn’t need to go into any explanation, Terry was already very comfortable under his blankets and his smooth, slippery protection made him wriggle with delight. “Good night Terry, sleep well.” The door closed and the soothing tones and soft waves crashing against a beach added a calm and reassuring ambience to the darkened room. He fell asleep not knowing that although his nappy was soon to become a permanent thing; his days of sleeping on an inflatable bed were numbered. Meanwhile, his head was filled with suggestions and words of encouragement: He was very lucky, his mummy loved him, it was OK to wet his nappy, he was a very good boy. These thoughts circled his mind but the music was so appealing and relaxing it all made sense. # Angela’s workmen arrived early to make a start on the alterations to the bedrooms. Terry had only just woken up when he heard the knock on the door but didn’t know what was happening. Angela installed the workers in the spare room before looking in on Terry who was up and wondering what was going on. “Sorry about the noise. The, er, builders have arrived.” She said by way of explanation. Despite him standing dressed only in his night time protection, which didn’t appear to worry him at all, or that Angela could once again see he had filled his bloated nappy; he was more concerned with what was going on. He looked anxious again. “Sorry Terry, I was hoping to keep it a secret but, you know; now there’s little point in keeping it from you. The men are here to fix the spare room into a place more suited to your needs. A proper place to sleep and some space for… er… yourself.” Terry’s eyes lit up in appreciation. “Oh mum… er… Angela, thank you, thank you… how… fantast…” He rushed up to her and hugged tightly. “That’s so nice.” He weakly whispered… again overcome with emotion. She patted his soaked nappy. She liked this intimacy and loved the feel of his soft and slippery protection. He, also enjoying the situation, held her for quite some time. There was a warmth and understanding in her that Terry craved. Ever since that first touch, when she guided him down from the bridge, he’d desired her kindness and approval. Never had he been a recipient of such natural affection and in truth thought he was both lucky but undeserving. He didn’t want anything to change that dynamic… and now he was getting his own room, the signs were for an auspicious future. Angela broke into his thoughts. “It’s a nice day. The men don’t want us under their feet, so why don’t we get to work on making sure the police are no longer searching, or people worried, about you?” # As the workforce got stuck in redecorating, laying new carpet and building a large crib and playpen Angela guided Terry out into the back field to make their little video. She’d taken Terry’s phone and recharged it hoping that was all it needed to make it work; she was pleased to see it operated just fine once the battery was full. Angela had also spent the night doing her own research on Gordon (Little) Littlewood and was amazed at just how famous he was… once was. She was appalled at some of his antics and laughed at some of the stuff reported he’d done on the reality show. Yes his small stature and baby looks had certainly helped make him a winner - shame that it hadn’t lasted. # “Do you still have access to your Facebook page?” Terry wondered why she was asking such a question. “I think so, I haven’t been on for such a long time, I was getting way too many nasty comment I stopped using it.” “I understand that but, do you still have access?” He still didn’t completely understand. “Look, what we need to do is for you to make a little movie using your phone camera. You need to tell everyone that you are sorry that you’ve caused such a worry but that you’ve been trying to avoid being in the public eye. You’ve been depressed but now you’ve met up with some people on the same wavelength as you so are happy leaving the limelight to those who want it.” He was beaming from ear to ear. “Does this make sense?” “Angela, that’s brilliant… I can say what I like. Maybe emphasise I don’t want to waste the police’s precious resources, I’m avoiding my terrible family and that I want to disappear completely and have no wish to be searched for because I’m now happy away from the press and pressures of… everything.” He gabbled. Angela was pleased that he’d cottoned on so quickly and was enthusiastic to do his piece. She was also surprised at just how good he was at coming up with such coherent thoughts and expressing them into camera (she supposed it was probably something to do with the reality show he’d been on). They found a rather inconspicuous area in the overgrown field behind Angela’s home and rehearsed his piece a couple of time before she held the camera and Terry performed his bit. # The spare room was being quickly transformed. The team worked speedily and had the room exactly like Angela requested; pale yellow walls, pale blue ceiling, and light-eliminating blinds. The construction of the crib was easy to slot together and screw firmly into place, as were the closet, draws and the changing table. The playpen took slightly longer with wooden bars circling it to keep baby safe and securely in place. The last things they installed were the thick plastic mattress in the crib and a similar, though much larger one to cover the entire play area. Both areas were now slippery, soft, comfy, baby-safe and waterproof. Soon everything was looking good and all but complete; Angela herself would add the finishing touches. The piles of nappies, the colourful plastic pants, baby clothes, bottles and containers of soothing oils and powder, the room would smell of a well looked after baby. Images of babies in nappies were planned for a border to stretch all the way around the room as were smiling cartoon animals to match some of the bedding she’d already ordered. She couldn’t wait to install the mobile she’d bought when first expecting all those years ago. The room would be a wonderful haven for a happy baby. # Gordon Littlewood was suddenly in his element. He wanted to put an end to the police activity but thought they might need a good motive to stop looking. He took a great delight in listing the reasons why he was disappearing and laid the blame squarely on his scumbag (his word) of a family. He wanted to move the spotlight from him and onto that nasty group of tormentors who’d made his life hell. He wanted to make sure that the next round of newspaper headlines was about them and not him. He let rip. Comforted by the wet nappy he’d never removed, he enjoyed having such power. His mind raced to put all his grievances into a tight little two minute segment. Angela held the camera but couldn’t help notice that throughout his tirade to camera he wiggled and constantly played with his cumbersome groin… it was if he was finding comfort, inspiration and support from his nappy. The camera didn’t show that on screen. He wasn’t sure why but seemed to have gained confidence and awareness in himself and as a result, a nappy, wet or dry, was something he wanted and liked to wear. There was a happy glow about him now. He was buoyant and alive and this transferred itself onto the little video. He still looked like a young teenager but his words had been damning for his family and his desire to disappear seemed to make a great deal of sense after what they’d put him through. # Gordon was able to upload straight from the phone to his Facebook page and with a hug and a sigh felt that was the end to that part of his life. Angela checked to make sure his little video was correctly and completely installed on his page and with a look of relief congratulated him on a job well done. At the back of her mind she hoped that if they tried to trace back to the phone it would prove authentic but useless. Angela and Terry (he was still Terry to her) celebrated with a bottle of soda each and a feeling of total liberation; they toasted to a better life and a new start. # The line that was often repeated by members of the public was his reaction to the sordid video that had been placed on social media and had caused this search in the first place. “Those men did some awful, unforgivable things to me but that was as nothing to the lifelong suffering and abuse my family inflicted.” He finished the piece to camera wishing every one well and hoping that they would find the happiness he had found. Although it sounded like he’d joined a cult, the fact that he’d done nothing illegal brought any police involvement to a close. As an offshoot, it also increased Gordon’s profile and a desperate desire by reporters to get the ‘real’ story about Gordon Littlewood. The Facebook video was soon trending and became one of the most watched YouTube clips. His family were ridiculed and ferociously castigated in the press; the very press that had been so quick to vilify Gordon now held him up as a victim. New stories about him appeared - anything to cash in on his name now it was back in the public arena. An exclusive and syndicated interview would have netted him another small fortune but he was unaware of this interest because Blueline30 was now flowing through his bloodstream. # Once they’d confirmed the video had uploaded correctly Angela took the phone, removed the SIM card and tossed it into the undergrowth. “There, now they can’t track you down or annoy you anymore.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile, which he returned with a hug. “Thank you.” They toasted their success with a cooling fizzy drink, both relieved that it was now all over. Angela looked up into the sunlit sky and then back to Terry. “Things are going to be different from now on,” she confided. “Everything is about to change… for both of us.” # The spiked soda was already working and the unexpected loss of bladder control made Terry suddenly stand still wondering what was going on. The soft hissing sound of pee adding to his already full nappy, together with the sudden vacant look in his eyes, meant that Blueline30 was working as promised. Angela was well prepared. She’d brought a bag with various items she knew would be needed. Terry stood doubting what was happening but could no longer comprehend anything. His body shivered and a tear came to his eye, something was wrong, something had… He was no longer able to control his body and, as his nappy filled, all he could do was sob. Taking a change mat from her bag Angela spread it out on the ground and helped the confused and immobile teen down onto it. She relieved him of his soaked disposable and for the first time, set about cleaning up her baby. “There, there sweetheart… I’ll have you all clean and tidy in a moment.” She looked down at a naked Terry and realised that there needed to be a few cosmetic changes to his hairy little body… but all in good time. Angela loaded a disposable with extra soak pads and then taped the thick garment into place before pulling up some bright cartoon vinyl pants. Terry didn’t appear to know what was happening, his limbs, floppy and uncoordinated, offering no resistance as she went about dressing him. A colourful childish t-shirt and loose fitting cotton shorts added to making him look even younger than before. “Who’s my Sweetums?” She cooed and kissed his forehead, whilst patting reassuringly on his bulging padded groin. He looked so cute but there was still a slight strained, unhappy look on his face with weepy eyes and a cry not very far away. She took out the final emblem of his new life and slipped a soothing pink dum-dum between his lips. Within a short space of time, Terry/Gordon disappeared replaced by a nursing little baby Joshua. A new name and a new start, Angela wondered, if anything could be better. The Beginning ##### The End
  7. Part 6 Gwyneth filled me in on what mom and dad were up to. Mom was receiving a very prestigious award, which was why she looked so elegant, and as a result she had to extend her lecture tour for an extra couple of weeks. Dad was still in Seoul working with the Korean’s on the firm’s latest development and that had also been extended. Once mom’s tour was over she was going to join dad in Korea for a little while before returning home. Gwyneth thought dad would be away for even longer than anticipated as progress had been slow at the new overseas suppliers. “Well Benjy, it looks like you’re going to be with me for some time… hope you don’t mind?” She ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head. Meanwhile, I sat and listened to her fill me in on all the news but just wished mom had told it all to me instead of hearing it second hand. I was a still a bit angry at mom rushing here, there and everywhere for everyone else… but not me… and every time I thought about it my chest heaved and I was on the verge of tears. I know not being clever disappointed everyone but I often felt that I didn’t matter that much to my parents, even though I tried not to be… stupid. However, I was also very aware of my little shorts and no matter how I sat (or stood) my diaper could be seen both at the leg holes and above the waistband. I’m sure mom and dad would both have thought I was being just that… stupid… if they could see me now. Despite Gwyneth choosing this very childish set of clothes I couldn’t be angry with her because… at least she was here for me… looking after me… helping me… and giving me what I needed. I burst into tears again but this time in gratitude and hugged my sister tightly. * I truly loved the dressing up games that Gwyneth had arranged. I loved the diapers more than I ever thought I would but I knew it couldn’t go on this way, least of all because I was due back at work in the morning. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to returning to a life of stacking shelves and cleaning up the car park but that was my job. It felt really weird sitting there dressed as I was and thinking of grown up stuff like work and I wriggled in the comfort of my thick protection wondering if I could get away with wearing it under my green uniform. Returning to work had never been mentioned but after playing with my truck for a little while I thought I’d better bring up the subject. Gwyneth was deep in thought and fervently typing into her laptop. I wasn’t sure if I should disturb her when she was in her creative zone but I needed her to know. I anxiously hung around the kitchen door waiting for a suitable break so I could ask my question. She looked up. “God, you do look so damned adorable,” and she beckoned me over, “what does my little Benjy want?” Oddly enough I hadn’t planned on exactly what to say so when she put her arm around my shoulders and looked into my eyes I was still looking for the right words. I could see she was waiting so I first asked if she had found her story yet. She let me go, turned to the screen and said. “Yes, I think I’ve got some ideas.” She then patted my bum. “I think you are helping in such a terrific way.” She didn’t say in what way. “I like you being here. I like having my little brother around. I like… well… I like your innocent and uncomplicated approach to life.” This wasn’t what I was expecting and it threw me a little. I was living a life she had seen for me, a life she controlled and directed, a life, yes, I had to admit, I was enjoying. I loved being ‘little’ and I loved the fact that my big sister wanted me to be happy and have no fears about… well… anything. * Eventually I plucked up the courage to ask her. “Will all this finish tomorrow when I have to go to work?” Standing in front of Gwyneth, looking like a toddler, I bet she could hardly believe her little brother even had a job but I needed to know. There was a moments silence before she answered. “Do you want it to?” I could feel the comfort of my diaper hugging me tightly, the plastic pants gripping my legs, the sweet little shirt with the duckies on and my tiny little shorts all screaming the same answer at me. “NO”. What I really said was, “I don’t know. I have to work. I have to prove to mom and dad I’m not entirely useless I have to…” She gently pulled me into her bosom and whilst one hand hugged and stroked my padded bottom the other the other stroked my hair. It was a lovely soft embrace and I could feel her love and understanding as she soothed my sudden and unexpected tears. I felt unable to cope. I didn’t want to have to make decisions; I didn’t ever want to make decisions again. I liked it just where I was. I liked living with Gwyneth more than at home where I hardly had anyone to speak with and spent my time watching TV and going to work (more to break the boredom than anything else). My parents hardly ever chatted or encouraged me about anything much and was left to my own devices in that big house. * This ‘little’ me was fun; I wasn’t when at home. This ‘little’ me had imagination; I appeared to have none when my parents were around. This ‘little’ me could have friends; and that’s what I wanted more than anything else. I wanted my childhood back and the chance to find those happy times all over again. Gwyneth had given me this opportunity, had identified clearly something I desired and offered it with no strings attached. Without saying anything, I just knew that Gwyneth understood this and in her gentle embrace I also knew that was exactly what she wanted for me. Strip me down and start again. She may have been surprised at the speed I took to it all but perhaps that was down to the desperate need I felt. “Benjy, I think you should have what you want,” she paused as my tears turned into hiccups and she patted my back, “and what you need right now is to be ‘little’… because… you are a sweet and completely different boy when you are… and I love it… and love you.” My tears eventually dried up but Gwyneth still held me tenderly. I didn’t want to break away but I still didn’t have an answer. “Can I please stay in my diapers with you and Teddy?” In my head it was a strong question but it came out as a childish, unsure whisper. Gwyneth smiled. “I think that would be for the best. Don’t you worry about anything I’ll sort it out with the store manager. Your job now is to be a little boy who’s out to have fun and be happy.” A shiver of relief and excitement ran through my body and I hugged my wonderful big sister even more fervently. * Gwyneth called me and said we were going out. Teddy and I had been having battles with our little cartoon characters which featured imaginary dinosaurs and dragons… I wondered if Gwyneth would get me some. “Where are we going?” I asked as I eagerly rushed to my sister’s side as she grabbed her bag and car keys. “I don’t want you to stay inside on such a lovely day so we’re off to the park.” Although I was keen to go out myself I realised that the nearby park may well have people I know enjoying the sunshine and wondered what they might think of the way I was dressed. I’d gotten used to it now but thought my diaper would act like a beacon to anyone who wanted to mock or generally be unkind. Again any thoughts and doubts I may have had were demolished as Gwyneth grabbed my hand and led me out to the car. I didn’t want her to think I was scared of the consequences but I was. I should have known my sister wouldn’t have put me in a situation to embarrass me as we drove for quite some time before we ended up at a park I’d never been to before. Once she’d parked up we got out and she opened the trunk to reveal that she had brought a picnic and in amongst the basket, blanket and chairs were a few of my toys and a ball. This was a terrific surprise and I smiled and helped her carry all the stuff towards a little picnic area where another man and boy were already sitting. * As we got closer I realised that it was actually Little Pauly and his dada. Pauly was wearing a huge monkey face on his white t-shirt and his little red shorts had monkeys climbing all around, all this was set of by bright red plastic sandals, which I thought looked fantastic and wanted a pair. Gwyneth and ‘dada’ greeted each other with air kisses and I was formally introduced to him. “This is my little brother Benjy,” I shyly nodded at the man, “This is Pauly’s dada Mr Peak.” “Erm, er, hello sir,” was all I could say as he smiled at me and let go of Pauly’s hand. “I think we should let the little ones go and play… don’t you?” Mr Peak said to Gwyneth who nodded in agreement. With that Pauly grabbed my hand and led me towards a little sandpit near the swings. He’d already started building a sandcastle and his bucket, spade, flags, toys and an assortment of other colourful shapes lay around. His little voice encouraged me to start to build my own castle and it wasn’t long before I’d got the start of a huge complex going and Pauly was organising a road between the two buildings. Like me, every time he moved his protection could be seen. Like mine, his shorts were very short and the pink plastic protection he wore to hold up his diaper was thick and shiny and once again I thought they looked fantastic and wanted some. * We were getting on really well. We giggled a lot as the entire sandpit became our kingdom where we were building villages and stuff everywhere. He’d even brought a couple of plastic dragons (I assumed from the castle he’d bought at the toys store) and it was brilliant as we got carried away and let our imaginations run wild. We were called to eat and I noticed that dada spoon fed Pauly all his food. In between every fifth spoonful he held up the sippy cup for him to drink but, even with his Winnie The Pooh bib in place, he was a messy eater. His dada was continually wiping his face of sauce or crumbs but Pauly was enjoying the picnic and none of this bothered him at all. We appeared to be the only people in the park and after we’d eaten we sat in the shade under a tree. Dada hugged Pauly and gently rocked him as he fell asleep for an afternoon nap but I was wide awake. I wanted to carry on playing on the swing or in the sandpit but Gwyneth said to I had to rest and I didn’t think I could defy her so, nestling in her arms I sat quietly and before long had dozed of myself. * I woke up to see Pauly in the middle of being changed. Right in front of both Gwyneth and me his dada had pulled down his shorts, unpopped his plastic pants and removed his soggy diaper. Like me Pauly had no hair down there, but there was a little piece of plastic locked around his pee-pee. I wasn’t sure what that was for but I suppose it kept everything neat and tidy. All through the process Pauly was sucking on a red pacifier that looked like it had a huge smile on it. That looked funny and I giggled as Gwyneth checked my diaper. I was soaked without being aware of it so Gwyneth laid me side by side with Pauly and began my change. Being naked in the sun was a nice feeling but I wasn’t sure I wanted an audience. However, I remembered the young boy at the mall and he had no worries about being changed in public, so I tried not to let it bother me. Gwyneth popped in my paci as she wiped and powdered me and within seconds I was wrapped in a new diaper with extra padding (I had wet a lot) and once the plastic pants had been pulled into place we boys were left to play on the blanket for a bit. However, Pauly wanted to get back to our castles and he wandered over wearing no shorts. His dada sort of shrugged and continued his conversation with Gwyneth and I was allowed to join him. Wearing just our padding was revealing but neither of the adults seemed to care. Gwyneth thought the plastic pants should be enough protection from our diapers getting full of sand, so pretty soon we were left to play on our own whilst the adults did whatever it was that adults do. We were so into our game we didn’t even notice them. * We’d played for hours; swinging on the swings, building in the sandpit, chasing each other, kicking a ball about and we were both hot, sweaty and tuckered out when told it was home time. Pauly collected all his toys then together we jumped on our creations pretending we were giants in a mad, fun rampage of destruction that had us both roaring and laughing in equal measure. Once our castles had been reduced back to sand Pauly rushed to his dada who checked him once more before being satisfied he was dry enough to travel. He helped him back into his monkey shorts and then, hand in hand, said their goodbyes and headed for their car. Gwyneth hugged me and asked if I’d had a fun day and I had to admit it had been super, in fact it had been super fabulous. Before I put on my shorts Gwyneth checked me but I was still dry. She tried to pull up my shorts but with all the extra padding that proved difficult so I was driven home wearing just my bulky protection. Every time we passed a truck I wondered if the driver could see into our car and know what I had on… and if he did, what he thought. * Once home I hugged Teddy and apologised for not taking him with us. He was still dressed the same as me so we just slipped back into our game where we left off. Meanwhile, Gwyneth had opened her laptop and was typing furiously. I was hoping that she had been inspired by our day out. However, time just flew by and before long she said it was time to have a bath and get ready for bed. Whilst she bathed me we talked about the day and I said how much I’d enjoyed it. I told her how much I liked Pauly’s clothes, especially his red plastic sandals… and his monkeys… and his pink plastic pants… in fact everything. She asked if I’d noticed the little plastic thing on his pee-pee. I nodded so she asked if I knew what it was. I shook my head. “Well, er, it’s there to stop him from, er, getting over excited.” I looked blankly up at her. “It prevents him from getting…” She was finding it difficult to find the words but in the end blurted out, “getting hard.” I looked surprised. “His dada doesn’t like him to be anything but a toddler and doesn’t want him to have to worry about… grown up things…” she carried on explaining. I think this must have been all part of the deep conversations they were having whilst we went off and played. “Is it something you’d like?” I wasn’t sure if she was hopeful or wondering and to be truthful I wasn’t sure either, so I just shrugged and went back to playing with my toy boats. * After the bath Gwyneth diapered me up and pulled on my plastic pants. She was about to fit me into my footer when I told her I was too hot and pointed to Teddy, who was back sitting on my bed, and asked if I could I sleep like he was. Gwyneth seemed happy with this arrangement and gave me a bottle of strawberry milk to drink to help me sleep. She stayed with me until I’d sucked down the lot, chatting away about this and that and just before I was left to go to sleep she told me that her latest story was coming along nicely and she’d already written the dedication at the front. She said she had two and I had to decide which I liked best. THANKS TO MY BROTHER BENJAMIN FOR HIS INSPIRATION Or THANKS TO MY LITTLE BROTHER BENJY FOR HIS CONSTANT INSPIRATION I thought for a moment and then said, “The second.” I fell asleep happy and proud. It was only 7.15 on my bedside clock but I was out like a light it had been such a hectic day. ******* tbc
  8. Part 5 As we drove back, after having had lunch at the food court (I had pieces of chicken shaped like dinosaurs and a strawberry shake) where hardly anyone batted an eyelid, I was so excited about getting to play with my new toys. Don’t get me wrong, I had played with toys in the past but not often so this was like a whole new beginning. When I’d helped run the crèche at the work’s charity day I think I was as happy fooling around with the toys as I was getting involved in the kid’s games. In fact, now I thought about it that was the absolute best time I’d ever had at the store. We arrived back home early afternoon and I was desperate to try out all my new things but Gwyneth took me upstairs, checked to see I hadn’t wet myself in all the excitement and insisted I settle down for a nap first. I was shocked at such a suggestion and told her that I didn’t need one. Again she insisted and I started whining that I wasn’t tired and that I shouldn’t have to go to bed in the afternoon as I wasn’t a baby. However, as I whined and said “No” she pulled off my t-shirt, yanked down my shorts and guided my diapered bottom toward the bed and Teddy. I no longer felt like an eighteen year-old. My birthday, only a few of days earlier, had been the date when I was finally regarded in most people’s eyes as no longer a child but a man… and yet. Gwyneth had been very rigorous in not allowing any discussion on the matter and just getting on and doing things for me. I may have felt like I was having an opinion but, in just this short space of time, I’d become a kid again. Not only that, I think I was enjoying not having to make decisions or have any responsibilities. I relished wearing diapers. I loved Teddy. I delighted in all the fun and games my sister organised and she was very good at making all this work for me. “OK, you’ve had a very exciting day but let’s just calm down a little bit… there’s no need to do everything at once,” she said reasonably. “Just rest your eyes for a few minutes and, if you’re still awake when I come back after I’ve finished what I need to do, you can get up.” It didn’t seem an unfair request and I don’t think it helped my case that I yawned the moment she had me stripped to my diaper. Teddy was still dressed the same and his cuddly arms were beckoning me to join him so, albeit reluctantly, I did just that. I was sure I’d be awake when Gwyneth returned but she patted my diapered bottom, pulled up the loose cover and stroked my hair for a couple of minutes. As I settled down and yawned once more she said that there was one last thing and slipped the paci between my lips. I was suddenly too tired to argue and without so much as a token protest I soothed myself as I dozed off. * I was in a jungle. There were noises of wild creatures everywhere. I was a little bit scared because I heard a rustling behind me. It was the boy from the changing room, dressed in just his cartoon plastic pants and diaper and it was those that were making the noise. He came and stood by my side and we could hear the heavy clomping footsteps of some huge wild animal; it was a chicken dinosaur like I’d had for lunch except this one had real teeth. Both my new friend and I quaked as it drew near and we decided we’d better run for it. At the same time a tribe of about twenty other kids, some of which were toddlers came running from the undergrowth to join us. We set off screaming and running. The noise from our collective crinkling and rustling protection sending the wildlife scattering, as we tried to escape the monster that was drawing ever near. We could almost feel its chicken breath on our necks as we powered through the jungle vines. Monkey’s shrieked and fled, snakes looked quizzically, while lions roared as we squealed our way searching for safety. One of the toddlers appeared to know the right direction so led the way. She hacked at the undergrowth and scared away any animal that crossed her path. The rest of us followed, trying to keep up as she shooed a tiger out of the way. My new friend and I were at the back and we could sense the dinosaur licking its lips in anticipation of having us for a meal. I could feel its teeth brush my head. There it was again, its teeth grazing the top of my head. I was scared but my friend had made some ground in front of me, his colourful waddling plastic covered bottom acting as my guide. “Run, run, run.” I was calling as I thought I was about to be eaten alive. I was trying to duck out of the way of those ferocious teeth but something flew into my mouth. I was sure I’d just swallowed a huge bug but… but…mmmmm... that tastes nice. * I slowly came around to find myself sucking on another baby bottle full of some sort of milky formula; it was warm, sweet and tasted nice. When my eyes eventually focused Gwyneth was there holding the bottle and wiping my hair and sweat from my eyes. Neither of us said anything until I’d completely slurped the wonderful drink down. She was smiling and murmuring some kind of tune as if to comfort me, it worked. I looked at the clock and noticed I’d actually been asleep for over ninety minutes, so much for not being tired. Once I’d finished the bottle Gwyneth checked my diaper. She could see the coloured indicator through the clear plastic and knew that I was more than a little damp. I had wet myself once again without being aware of it. In my head I put it down to the scare in the jungle and as Gwyneth set about the change I told her what I remembered of my dream. She asked me if I’d liked the cartoon plastic pants with poppers that my young friend was wearing and when I gushed more than I should she said that perhaps we should get some for me. I told her about the girl, who was about four or five years-old, who was leading us to safety. She was wearing a short little dress but her thick diaper was clearly visible as she startled all the animals. Her ruffled pink bottom stood out against the green and darkness of the jungle. Again Gwyneth asked if I liked her ruffled panties and, as she sprinkled powder over my groin, I nodded. It was such a clear dream and I was surprised all the elements that had gone into it contained some of my experiences of the day. * I was so intent on telling her about my dream that I hardly noticed I’d been changed. It was amazing how easily I had slipped into this routine such had it so quickly become so much part of my day. Once the blue plastic pants were in place Gwyneth seemed happy that I was now ready to play with my new things. I grabbed Teddy and carried him downstairs and we unpacked all the new toys together. He liked the big truck best, so we spent the time making truck noises and building an imaginary road around the house for it to travel on. All the cartoon figures could fit into its back so they were getting transported as well. Teddy had a terrific imagination. Wearing just ‘protection’ around Gwyneth’s house had become second nature so Teddy and me playing with the toys and crawling around the floor in a thick, comfortable diaper was like being in my own ‘kidzone’. I think I’d have liked some friends to come and join me, any of those from my dream would have been most welcome but for the moment, well, Teddy and my sister would have to make up my playmates. In fact, so immersed were we in our ‘trucking’ game that before we knew it we were being called for our evening meal, cheesy macaroni. After din-dins (Gwyneth called it that) I sat and coloured in a couple of pages in one of the books we’d bought at the store. This was another thing I’d never done before, well not since I was a kid. Strangely enough, I wanted to do a good job to show to Gwyneth in the hope of her being proud of what I’d achieved. There were numbers as a guide but I tried to do it without their help and I thought I’d done pretty well. Whilst I was doing that Gwyneth sat opposite me on her computer, I don’t know if she was writing stuff or uploading things onto Facebook or YouTube but I asked her if any of the comments had been from people who wanted to be friends, perhaps even someone who lived relatively close. She said she’d check it out and seemed pleased that I wanted to play with fellow diaper wearing ‘kids’. * She told me that the man at the mall, the man who was ‘dada’ to Little Pauly (I never asked his name) was open to the idea that we could have a play date, if I ever wanted one. She’d got his number and asked if she could arrange it would I’d like to do that. Of course I enthusiastically replied. “Yes please.” “OK, I’ll see what I can do,” she held my hand, “I think you’re ready for the next step.” I wasn’t sure what step she was referring to but I liked the idea of having a playdate. I carried on colouring in my book until Gwyneth said it was time for bed. I had no idea what time it was but I said I wasn’t tired and started to whine about having to go to bed. Only days ago I chose when I went to bed and now, I was told. However, the look Gwyneth gave me when I started to moan told me to watch out and besides, as she reminded me. “Do you want a play date or not?” From the tone of her voice I knew it was in jeopardy so sheepishly nodded. “Then you go to bed when I tell you to. No arguments or I just won’t organize it for you.” I could tell she meant it and stuck my bottom lip out in a spot of sulkiness but she seemed even more determined, “Bed NOW.” So that was the end of any discussion. A few minutes later she followed me up to my room and made me put on my footer pjs again. I was going to complain about them restricting my ability to go to the bathroom but I thought better of it. Once I was settled down she slipped a rubber teat between my lips and I got another taste of warm milk, she seemed happy to make small talk about the day as I sucked the bottle empty. She talked about all the kids we’d seen and what they’d been wearing. What outfits she thought I’d look cute in and how nice it will be when I had my first friend to play with. I just nodded as I sucked and as soon as I was finished she slipped in the paci and told me to go to sleep. I looked over at the clock and it was only 7.30 but, I was in bed, my diaper was dry, I was comfortable, I’d just had a warm drink so there was little else worth staying up for. It was the first night I slept without Teddy sharing my bed but the footer was very fleecy so I just hugged myself to sleep. * I woke up soaked and a little messy. I wasn’t aware of the mess to begin with but, as I began to move around the bed and get myself up, I realised that there was something more in my diaper. It didn’t feel all liquidy like it had when my bowel exploded the day before but I wasn’t happy sharing my diaper with it. I warily waddled down to the kitchen to get Gwyneth’s help out of my footer and hopefully a change but she was on the phone and there was a bowl of cereal on the table. As she spoke she indicated that I should sit down and have breakfast but I really didn’t want to in the state I was in. I stood at the door waiting for her to finish but she impatiently came over, grabbed my arm and marched me over to my chair and forced me to sit down. She poured milk into my bowl, and, as she continued her discussion, I think with her literary agent, indicated I should eat. Unenthusiastically, I lifted the first spoonful but I was all too aware of the mushiness that I now sat in. She was still on the phone, typing into her laptop and drinking coffee when I’d finished. I sat quietly wondering what she found to talk about; had she heard from our parents, perhaps spoken to Little Pauly’s dada? She obviously didn’t want me hanging around so shooed me from the table to go and play in the room or sit and watch TV. I didn’t feel I could sit on the sofa in my current condition so lay on my stomach watching the TV which was already tuned to a cartoon channel. I didn’t mind, I’ve always liked cartoons so I quickly got into what was going on. * A little while later Gwyneth called me into the kitchen. Finally, I thought, I can get out of this messy diaper and… “Oh, erm, hello mommy, er, mom.” There, Skyped on the laptop screen, was mother looking as elegant as ever and smiling. “Happy Birthday sweetheart.” She beamed, whilst I felt more than a little uptight about still wearing my pjs. “Er… thanks mom…” Even though she was several days late I didn’t feel able to take the moral high ground as I was sitting in my own poop. “Your father and I are thinking of you sweetheart and only sorry we can’t be there to celebrate this special day with you.” “Oh well, you’re very busy… “ I felt guilty myself because I couldn’t even remember which country she was in, although it looked like she was dressed for a party or something. “I’m sure your sister will make it a memorable occasion for you?” I nodded wondering what she knew. The large image of mom filled the screen but there was a littler square in the corner containing me. I wondered if she could tell I was wearing kiddie pjs and had a diaper on underneath but my thoughts were interrupted as she brought me back to her. “OK sweetheart, I have to go as the car has arrived. I’m afraid it will be a couple more weeks before I can get home but Gwyneth will tell you all about that.” I could hear a voice calling her in the distance. “Happy Birthday again darling, see you soon.” “Bye mom I…” but the screen went blank and the link died. I wanted her to tell me why she wasn’t coming home for a while. I wanted to speak longer but the fact that we had spoken filled me with emotion. I’m not sure if it was resentment or what but I felt myself choke up and tears form in my eyes. * Gwyneth came over to comfort me and while I cried into her shoulder she stroked my hair and said that it was “Better late than never.” I suppose she was right but I wish mom, and dad I suppose, had a little bit more time for me and hadn’t forgotten my birthday. Once I was cried out I told Gwyneth that I was pretty messy and needed a change. She sniffed the air and said she wondered what that odour was, so took my hand and led me upstairs. In the bathroom she helped me out of my footer and checked that my protection had held. It had. She pulled down the plastic pants and saw my poopy problem, so slowly, and with a great deal of care, eased the diaper down making sure the mess stayed in the diaper. Once I was able to step out of it she walked me over to the shower and turned it on. She took the hand shower attachment and sprayed me down with warm water. Once the ‘wreckage’ was clear she then said she needed to make sure I was the “cleanest little boy in the world” (I think she was joking and making a little game out of my embarrassment) but now I was clean I was a little more relaxed. She grabbed a new body gel out of the cabinet, put on a pair of plastic gloves and spread it all over my body. I wasn’t sure why she needed gloves but after a couple of minutes it started to tingle. She left my body soapy whilst she started shampooing my hair with a different brand. I had to close my eyes because the bubbles were causing them to sting. Shortly after that Gwyneth got hold of a cloth, I still had my eyes closed, but felt her wipe off all the stuff from around my body, especially around my cock and bum hole. Once she was happy all that had been removed I was able to stand under the hot shower and rinse away the shampoo. I climbed out and Gwyneth was waiting with a huge towel to buff me dry and, although the tingling had eased off, I wondered what the new body wash contained to have such an effect. As usual she dried me thoroughly and guided me to my room and lay me out on my bed. It was only when she started applying some very greasy lotion to my entire body I noticed that I no longer had any hair on my body. The few wisps of pubic hair I once had were now gone, so were the fine hairs on my arms and legs and I suddenly panicked that the hair on my head might have also disappeared. I nervously ran my hand over my scalp and was relieved that was still intact. * As Gwyneth made sure every part of my body (and I do mean every part and crevice) got a thorough coating I lay there waiting for an explanation. None was forthcoming and, as I wasn’t sure how to bring the subject up, or what I planned on saying, she simply got on with my re-diapering. The padding was once again thick, the plastic pants were pulled up and tucked around the leg so the diaper was contained and then she pulled another new pale blue shirt over my head. This one had the outline of a duck being followed by three baby ducklings across the front, it was cute. She then produced a very short pair of white shiny nylon shorts, which she shimmied up and over my padding before adding a pair of pale blue socks with little ruffles around the top. She brushed my hair and once satisfied had me step in front of the mirror. There was no doubt about it I looked more like I was eighteen months rather than eighteen years-old. That strange feeling enveloped me once more and I wasn’t sure if I liked or was horrified by my reflection. The problem I now had was that I didn’t have a choice, Gwyneth had made all the decisions and, as she stroked my hair, told me what a smart and cute looking boy I was, I felt like I was indeed nothing more than a child… her child. ****** tbc
  9. As the tech problem appears to have lost this story completely I have reposted the first four chapters in one go. I shall hopefully be adding more as we go along but I suppose we need to make sure this is all working again. I've missed keeping up with all the fab stories and looking for old ones that are quite brilliant. ############################################ My 18th Birthday “Stoopid, stoopid, stoooooopid,” I was so angry with myself for letting it happen. I was rapping my knuckles on my forehead, shouting and scowling at myself because I just couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. I know I’m not the brightest person in the world but I should have caught on sooner and I wouldn’t be in the mess, literally, that I was now… sitting in. With a thick diaper stuck to my body, I disliked immensely the way the poop engulfed everything and made me feel both dirty and queasy. It didn’t help that I was being chastised for being “A dirty little baby” and made to feel that was all that I would ever achieve. Banging my head wasn’t helping as it hurt. I sat shaking in my pile of poo unable to do much else and began, as I so often did these past few days, to cry. No doubt I looked the picture of abject misery but, this is what the people had wanted and they were getting just that from my current display. * My name is Benjamin or Ben, never Benjy as I’ve always thought that sounded so childish. My parents are both quite high achievers in their respective fields; mom being an art historian and dad being a Biotech company CEO. My older sister, Gwyneth had her first book published when she was sixteen, her second did quite well and her third, Smart Moves, had recently been optioned for a movie. I on the other hand am basically just that, basic. I have no conspicuous talent. I cannot play sports very well (although I’m always game for a … game) and my academic achievements had me constantly in the bottom half-dozen or so. It wasn’t that I didn’t try, Hell; I never stopped trying as I had a great deal to live up to but I just wasn’t clever enough. Simply put, compared to the rest of my family I am DUMB, not gifted in anyway but, on the plus side, I would try anything if I could. Whereas the rest of my family have terrific jobs I’m stacking produce at our local superstore. It’s boring and doesn’t pay well; a group of Mexicans, East Europeans and me all work for minimum pay just so we have a job to our name. It probably is about the only thing I can do without mucking up but I’d like something better. But hey, look around you – do you see loads of bosses desperate to give high paying jobs away to the likes of me? You get what you’re given and like it… or at least don’t complain about it. I’ve heard being described by my parents as ‘over-emotional’ (although it’s always said as a whisper and as if I wasn’t even in the room). Obviously it is a somewhat dismissive term but I’m not sure I know why being ‘over-emotional’ is a bad thing. OK, I admit that I can cry at seeing kittens and puppies playing (in fact any baby creatures immediately win my heart) but it’s out of joy. I know I’ve been known to cry at some awful news story where people have been hurt or killed and I also seem to identify with the images of the starving across the world and yes, I am emotional and get upset about any form of violence. For a guy my age I watch very little TV because I find it too violent and the same with computer games. My friends, those few I have, think I’m weird and a bit of a ‘softie’ (although I’m sure they say much worse). OK. So I’m still living at home with Mom and Dad, when they are here, otherwise I’m shipped off to my clever author sister while they are away on business, vacation or whatever as they don’t trust me not to wreck or set fire the house if I’m left to my own devices. Chance would be a fine thing. * It was approaching my 18th Birthday and I was looking forward to some kind of celebration as all my other (few) friends had huge parties when they had reached this magical age. Alas, both my parents would be away on business for a month and my sister wasn’t interested in giving me a party. I suggested we go out for a meal, or something, but she’d just had some bad news herself and was in no mood for any kind of celebration. Gwyneth had just found out that her boyfriend of three years had recently sired a baby with another girl, whilst my sister had just lost her own. Her house was no place for merriment and I was happy to spend as much time as I could stacking shelves and collecting trolleys just so I wasn’t around her too much. However, one late night I saw her looking through an album of old photographs. She was smiling at a page that had some rather cute pictures of me. The one she was particularly happy about was of me, I must have been barely one year-old, sleeping and cuddling my teddy bear (Teddy), whilst wearing only a particularly thick and well-pinned diaper. My blue pacifier seemed to cover half my face but I looked so happy and contented hugging Teddy tightly. According to Gwyneth, I was always a happy, chirpy little baby, always smiling and rocking in my diaper or crawling around on some expedition that ended with me back where I started. * Eventually, as we settled together on the sofa she asked, with an air of sadness, regret and nostalgia, what it was that I missed most about my childhood. I shrugged and looked at the album, the page still open at me and my teddy bear. “That.” I said emphatically. “I miss having something to cuddle.” When I was five years-old my parents, no doubt thinking it was for my own good (or something they had read somewhere) decided to get rid of all my childish notions by throwing out all my baby toys and mementoes. Teddy went with the rest of the stuff to the goodwill store and I never saw him again. I was devastated and I know for weeks after I’d wake up wet both from crying so much and peeing the bed. The last thing they wanted to do was put me back in diapers (it was against the very concept of my growing up) but mom would only put up with wet sheets for a couple of days before she insisted I wear disposables on a night. Oddly enough, these became my comfort for the next few months until I was gradually weaned off my loss of Teddy and eventually back into pjs. Gwyneth took another look at the photo I was still pointing at. “You do look particularly sweet,” she said nodding at the photo and then half to herself, “perhaps I should get you something special for your birthday after all?” Now I love my sister, in fact, I love everybody. I try not to be nasty to anyone and I go out of my way to be respectful to my seniors (Gwyneth is six years older than me) and try and do what I can to help if they are in difficulties or provide a cheerful word if they look like they might need one. I’m no Good Samaritan but I do help out at charity events and the church if they need any volunteers. At work, on their charity day, I was helping run the crèche, organise the free food and dress up as a clown to entertain the children. I got extra credit for all my efforts and was able to get an extra 5% off anything I bought in the store that week. Alas, I had no money and there was nothing I wanted. * As my 18th birthday approached I noticed that Gwyneth’s mood improved, as if in some way my reaching this age had cheered her up. I was glad to see her a lot happier and we chatted long into the night about silly stuff and our family. She was telling me that at the moment she had a sort of ‘writer’s block’ (which after all she’d been through I could understand) and that she was glad she had her ‘little brother’ to keep her company through this trying time. I felt sorry for her having to go through all that but was pleased that I was there and in some way help. Perhaps my parents hadn’t been quite as selfish as I’d thought in not letting me stay at home on my own. The guys at work had bought me celebratory cake for my birthday, which we wolfed down in our lunch break. I received a card signed by them all and also received a load of pats on the back and ‘well dones’ throughout the day. You’re probably wondering why I wasn’t out with my friends or girlfriend, well, I don’t have that many friends and most girls are only interested in a guy with a car and I didn’t fall into that particular category. When I got home the mailman had been but I got not so much as a card from mom and dad. I suppose they were too busy but you’d think… wouldn’t you? Thankfully, Gwyneth had remembered and not only got me a card but a present. * It was the biggest teddy bear I’d ever seen. It was slightly bigger than me and had this huge blue bow around its neck just like Teddy had. At first I thought ‘what a stupid gift’ but then I remembered our conversation from a few days previously and, ever thoughtful, she had actually bought me something she thought I’d love. As I stroked his soft fleecy bulk (yes I named him Teddy as I’m that imaginative), his glassy eyes and stitched on smile won me over and I couldn’t stop cuddling him… he was so soft and… wonderful. Gwyneth was delighted that I was happy and we sat and had a meal that she had specially prepared. She even offered me a glass of a rather nice chilled white wine, which for once didn’t taste of warm sour apples like I’d had in the past, although I really wasn’t much of a drinker. After two rather large glasses I was quite giggly and Gwyneth was very entertaining. She took a few photographs on her phone of me and Teddy cuddling and kissing (yes I know but I’d had a couple of drinks) and she thought how delightful we both looked. Then she said she had an idea and wondered if I’d be up for a dare. I wasn’t sure where this was going but, with my inhibitions loosened by the wine, nodded and she suggested we recreate that image of me of when I was one year old. * I laughed out loud. She laughed along with me and then said that perhaps, we should ask Teddy? “OK Teddy, you huge cuddlesome beast,” she giggled like she was a seven year-old, “should Benjy…” Now I giggled like a toddler as I looked into Teddy’s eyes half expecting him to actually reply. His huge furry face and soft welcoming body oozed love and friendliness… this was a Teddy who would always be there for you… for me… and would never steer me wrong. “… should Benjy accept the dare?” She nodded then looked at me who was watching her and then looked back at Teddy. Suddenly she leapt up and gave a little shout “There,” she said emphatically, “he just nodded.” I looked back at Teddy and there was no doubt that his smile appeared to have got broader (though this might be down to the influence of alcohol on my brain) and he was nodding (again this might have been down to my sister pushing him with an unseen hand), either way, it was conclusive. Teddy wanted me to re-enact my photo. * I started cuddling him but Gwyneth said that I had to change first. I wasn’t too sure what she meant but she told me to follow her to her room. “OK, let’s do this correctly,” she slurred slightly, “We need you dressed properly.” I wasn’t sure what was about to happen but I was enjoying the silliness of the situation so went along with it. “Take off your clothes,” she waved her hand in the direction of them, “and lay down on my bed.” I was a little bit shocked at the suggestion but it was my sister and she wouldn’t be seeing anything she hadn’t seen thousands of times before, which she reminded me of as I slowly pulled off my shirt and dropped my jeans. “Yesshh, and your boxers,” she went off in search of something in the bathroom. Reluctantly, I slid them to the floor and then playfully kicked them off. They landed on a lampshade, which immediately made me start to giggle even more. “Now I’m an accurate kicker,” I half grumbled to myself. “Why wasn’t I that good when I played soccer and there were other people around?” * I lay out naked on the soft, feather-filled, cream and blue duvet that covered her bed and awaited her return; my bare dick not displaying any of its usual feistiness like it often did when it came to being free of clothing. I stroked it a couple of times but thankfully it wasn’t playing and at that point Gwyneth arrived back in the room carrying a thick towel and I guilty let go of my prized ‘toy’. “I’ll get you something else to play with later,” she mocked as she pretended to slap away my hand. I realised what she was going to do and thought “Why not go all the way?” so let her fold it into shape and slip it under my bum… although before pinning it into place she sprinkled some baby powder all over me. “Now you even smell the part,” she was smiling and that had me responding in the same way as I quite like the smell of talcum powder. Nakedness between us has never been a problem. Nudity was never shameful in our family and it was just ‘normal’ that we wondered from bedroom to bathroom naked as it was wearing something. As we grew up we didn’t hide ourselves from each other so it was really no big deal for her to see my genitals, though perhaps not so close up. Even though she hadn’t lived at home for a couple of years now I wasn’t bothered as she rubbed the powder in and then tightly pulled the towel up between my legs and pinned it into place. She pulled me to my feet and let me look at myself in the mirror. I was amazed at how thick the towel fashioned as a diaper appeared but, and I have to hand this to my sister, it looked exactly like the one I was wearing as a baby all those years ago. She was smiling. “Let’s go show it off to Teddy… see what he thinks off his little friend… his little Benjy.” **** Part 2 Though it’s a name I never really liked, Benjy just seemed appropriate at that moment. She took my hand and guided me back to Teddy who once again seemed more than happy to see me, even dressed as I was. Gwyneth was keen that we should cuddle on the floor (not me and her, me and Teddy) so she could get another photograph. He was so cosy and soft it was like falling into warm butter and, as I squeezed him tightly, his furry arms appeared to embrace me at the same time. There is something very satisfying about a soft, yielding bear that welcomes you into its arms and responds with soft fleecy tickles to your naked body. Everywhere his fur touched produced a wonderful sensation; little ripples of giggly pleasure and velvety reassurance added together with delicate caresses made me feel very safe... and very loved. There was one thing missing and I was surprised when Gwyneth suddenly produced the finishing touch. She slipped a huge blue pacifier between my lips, which I had no idea how she got or where it came from. At that moment I didn’t question anything as Gwyneth started organising and taking her snaps. It was no problem snuggling with Teddy and to tell you the truth I was thoroughly enjoying myself. This was the most intimate contact I’d had with anyone (or anything) since, well, since I was five and had my final cuddle with the original Teddy… and I appreciated this renewed relationship. * The room was warm and I was comfortable wearing only a made-up diaper. It fitted tightly so wasn’t falling down every few seconds and once Gwyneth had finished taking her photos, we settled down to finish our meal, well dessert actually. It was nothing special except a rather colourful ice-cream medley. We decided to have it sitting on the sofa whilst watching a late night movie. Teddy was just too big to sit with us so he sat at my bare feet, tickling them every time I brushed against him, which I did regularly, so I was smiling when my sister brought in the dessert in a bowl. She then did something we’d never done before; she fed me spoonsful of the stuff in between taking the odd mouthful for herself. It was a lovely tender and unexpected moment. At one point we were in fits of laughter because she’d offered some to Teddy only for him to turn it down. I think she sneakily nudged his head so it looked like he was refusing the creamy delight. “Well I suppose someone’s got to think of their figure,” she shrugged and we both sniggered like tots at that. The movie was boring and the wine had made me very tired so I excused myself and brought my 18th birthday celebrations to a close. Gwyneth gave me a ‘goodnight’ peck and I thanked her for a great fun night (I had actually enjoyed what we’d done together it was so unlike anything we’d ever done before) as she patted my diapered bum and jokingly said I wasn’t to wet, but if I was going to, then at least I was dressed accordingly. I laughed as I began to trundle to my room but she called me back and asked if I wasn’t forgetting somebody? Of course, Teddy. I picked him up, for such a huge animal he was incredibly light to carry, and we toddled off to bed. It felt strange having the thickness of the diaper between my legs but with Teddy by my side I wasn’t worried, I dreamily thought he’d protect me from whatever the darkness brought. He was my friend and oddly enough the diaper seemed to make everything feel as it should be. Maybe it was the memory of how comforting diapers had been after I lost Teddy the first time that made me not worry as to the way I was dressed. We climbed on top of the sheets together and it was so nice sinking into bed with someone else, even if that someone was Teddy. He was warm and welcoming and it wasn’t long before, clutched in his paws (and him mine) we were dead to the world. * I woke up from a particularly heavy night’s sleep. I was slightly woozy but I was still clutching hold of Teddy, I smiled and thanked him for keeping me safe. I lay there for a few minutes enjoying the sensation of Teddy against my skin when I became aware of the thickness between my legs. I pulled back the thin piece of sheet partially covering us both and saw the towel hanging loosely around my hips. I was quite impressed that I’d been able to sleep with such an unusual thing wrapped around me but apparently, it had made no difference to how I slept. Then I suddenly wondered if I’d wet myself. I didn’t feel wet but… I slipped my hand across the front and thankfully that all felt dry, then, furtively, I slipped it down the front and checked around my dick. “Dry”, I sighed with relief. I got up, went to the bathroom and had a nice long shower. I could hear Gwyneth pottering around downstairs and was really pleased with the way we’d celebrated my birthday. As the shower grew warmer I was thinking it was a birthday I’d never forget and beamed enthusiastically at the thought of what we’d done. It had been madly childish but I now had a new Teddy and although I was eighteen, I wasn’t going to let my parents or anyone else send him to the goodwill store. * Dressed in shorts and t-shirt I wandered downstairs. I had four days off until I was scheduled to go back into work so I was being comfortable and relaxed. The store uniform was a tight-fitting green polyester ensemble of trousers and a shirt; with my name and ‘CAN I HELP’ written across the left breast, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to wear but no one could pretend I wasn’t staff. Anyway, it was something I was always happy to ditch the moment I got home and slip into my favourite casual clothing, which is what I now wore as I wondered into the kitchen. Gwyneth was making coffee, smiling and humming to herself. We exchanged the usual pleasantries but I detected a grin on her face, which meant she was up to something. “What are you smiling about,” I enquired. “Oh, nothing much except I did something last night I’m… er… surprised at the results.” She smiled but looked down as if she had a guilty secret. “Yes, it was pretty strange wasn’t it… oh… and that reminds me… I’ve put the diaper in the bin. It’s not wet. Well it is but I… er… just dried myself on it.” I said quickly defending myself against any thoughts to the contrary she might have. Her face brightened up. “No seriously. I didn’t pee my diaper, honest. I just used what was nearby when I climbed out of the shower.” I stammered. She could see I was getting slightly agitated over nothing but that smile was still there. “I believe you,” she tried to calm me and put her hand over mine. “Anyway, I’m talking about something else.” And she flipped open the laptop that lay in front of her. “See,” she pointed to a Facebook page that had an image of me as a one year-old and me as an eighteen year-old, side by side hugging teddies, with pacis in our mouth and wearing diapers. She’d put the damn image from last night online. I was mortified. Not only that but as a joke she had swapped the caption underneath so it read “Benjy at 18” under the image of me at one year-old and “Benjy at 1” under the other. “Take it down.” She was still smiling. “Please, Gwyneth, take it down before anyone sees it… I… I…” “Too late for that I’m afraid.” The smile never left her face as she pointed to the fact that there were 207 Likes and 44 Comments… all of which Gwyneth assured me were positive. I put my head in my hands and wondered what I should do. I’ve never been any good at getting angry and I don’t think I’ve ever lost my temper with Gwyneth so I was stumped for how I should really respond. All I could think about was the guys at work seeing it and them constantly referring to it. It was a good thing I had so few friends, I wasn’t on Facebook because of that, but she told me she’d set one up just for me. Also, she informed me that I was now ‘trending’, whatever that was, and the next time I looked the Facebook page had gone up to 297 Likes and 61 comments. * I sat quietly sipping my coffee but unable to eat anything at that moment. I had filled-up and I was desperately trying to hold back my emotions. I wondered what had possessed her to do such a thing but as she was sat typing away I thought perhaps it had helped her get past her writers block. She pressed the ‘enter’ key and sat back relieved as if she’d just completed an enormous task. “Have you unblocked yourself,” I asked rather ineptly (and weepily). She looked at me pondering what I meant, “Can you now write… have you got over not having a story or… whatever…?” She smiled and said that she now had an idea but that it would need my help to see where it led. She was trying to cheer me up and dig me out of my ‘emotional’ state with a bit of enthusiasm. She speculated that it might be a terrific change of style for her but needed my involvement and hoped I’d be up for it. I was still nursing my bruised and emotional ego; I didn’t really want 297… no it was now 314… people to think of me as a baby but I suppose it did no real harm. After all, I had so few friends to worry over and in fact, my parents and my sister were the only people I really had anything to do with. I liked the guys at work but… well… it was work; it wasn’t like we socialised much. Even school mates were few and far between, I only saw them when they were back from college or university or where ever. “I’ve just uploaded a few more images of you from last night to the page…” she spun the screen for me to see, “and already people are clicking the ‘Like’ button.” * Although I was frustrated with her attitude my sister had furnished me with something else for my birthday, something I would never even have thought about, my own Facebook page. As I watched the screen I was amazed to see the number of Likes and Comments that kept appearing. She smiled at my stunned expression and suggested that I should read some of them. I had no idea how to go about it but she pointed out how many Likes each image was receiving and clicked on a box that let me see the comments. Most were very positive: “Oooo look at the lickle babe”, “What a sweet innocent picture”, “Lovely idea”, “What a nice boy” and similar things. However, there were one or two more intense messages. Gwyneth tapped the screen. “I think maybe later we should take a look at these suggestions and see where they lead.” I shook my head and told her I didn’t think so but she begged me to reconsider as she thought it would make an interesting part to a new novel she was just beginning to envisage. This, she promised, would get her back on track as she could already feel her creative juices flowing. I still doubted the wisdom of getting involved but she told me that I would be credited at the front of the book for my ‘inspiration’. OK, she got me. How could I refuse my sister and such an opportunity to be recognised as someone who had given a successful author ‘inspiration’? * As I sat at her laptop reading the various messages she told me, as she slipped on her coat, collected her car keys and headed for the door, not to reply to any comment just yet. I just shrugged but I have to admit that my curiosity was aroused by just how many people, now standing at over 400 Likes and 83 Comments, felt the need to acknowledge my photographs. I know I was looking like a happy teenager playing with a huge teddy bear and wearing just a diaper but I couldn’t get over why that should create such attention. “Where you going?” I eventually managed to break away from the screen. “Just to get a few things from the store, I shouldn’t be long.” She smiled. “There’s plenty of juice in the fridge if you’d rather have that than coffee… and there are some English muffin’s if you want something to eat.” “OK, see you soon.” I did prefer juice and poured myself a lovely long cool glass of OJ before putting the muffins in the toaster. I grabbed the butter and strawberry jelly and sat at the laptop waiting for the toaster to do its job, the screen had gone blank and wasn’t sure whether I should touch it to try and get my pages back. I was curious to see how things had developed since I’d last looked. I waited until I’d finished my breakfast before I examined the screen again and hoped that by touching one of the keys I didn’t erase all of Gwyneth’s work. * A list of recently visited sites appeared and I was distracted to see that the latest one was YouTube. This was perhaps one of my favourite sites because of all the cute animal clips that seemed to occupy most of its content. I decided I’d like to see some playful kittens to cheer myself up and pressed on the key. It went straight to a clip of a big baby rolling around the floor with a huge teddy. Oh no, it was me. The clip started on my diaper pins and slowly pulled out to reveal, well, everything. To begin with my face was hidden by the big paci and it could have been anybody but as I played with Teddy and moved around the floor hugging and kissing him I became more and more identifiable. My mouth went dry, it was if I’d never even drunk that OJ, and I stared at the screen mesmerised by my actions. There was absolutely no doubt I was having fun, diaper or not, and from the occasional looks to the camera you could tell I was in my element. As I watched my body went clammy and I could feel those emotions of mine rising to the surface. As I happily played my diapered bottom appeared to be the main focus of attention – just what the hell was Gwyneth thinking? There were three different clips; two of me playing with Teddy and one of me sleeping with Teddy, which I didn’t even know she’d recorded. In fact, I didn’t know she’d recorded anything I thought she was just taking photos with her phone. There I was, happily snuggling Teddy with my arms wrapped around him, paci hanging slightly out of my mouth fast asleep and my white padded bottom looking quite prominent against the dark blue of my sheets. I wondered why so many people had commented and noticed that the clips had, even after just such a short space of time, received more than 3200 hits. There was a link to the Facebook page but now I was dreading reading the comments as I was sure they would be calling me a perv… or worse. I filled up with tears and cried because I didn’t know what I could do, I thought such notoriety would make me a laughing stock in town, perhaps lose my job and I’d never be able to look people in the eye again. * My bottom lip was still trembling when Gwyneth arrived back home. I hadn’t moved from staring at the screen because I was simply mesmerised by the images. She could see I was disturbed and dropped the bundle of packages she was carrying and came over to comfort me. The sobbing became a full blown wail as I buried my head in her bosom and kept on asking her “Why?” I assumed she hadn’t done it to hurt me but I couldn’t figure out why she would do such a thing. After a few minutes I calmed down and I looked at my sister through tear-stained eyes. She hugged me again and asked why I was crying. I was speechless that she could ask such a question so just pointed to the screen. “Yes, it’s you…” she asked with concern, “but why are you crying?” “What… what… what will…” I sniffed, “what will people think?” She just shook her head slightly. “They’ll think that there’s something wrong with me… they’ll think I’m…” I couldn’t finish my thoughts as I was overcome once again with a huge sob that gripped my throat and left me shaking my head in disbelief. “Tell me,” Gwyneth was now all very serious, “aren’t those really tears of happiness?” I looked at her in disbelief. “You’re eighteen. Eighteen,” she emphasised, “and” she pointed at the screen, “that’s the first time I’ve seen you truly happy in many-a-year.” There was no doubt about it those images were of me genuinely happy. When I was playing with Teddy I simply didn’t have another thought in my head apart from having a fun time with him. But I wondered, what might others think of an eighteen year-old running around in a towel… that’s a diaper? Gwyneth hugged me once more. “You, my sweet little Benjy, needed something. I wasn’t sure what to begin with but, and I’m sorry to say this to my little brother but, you needed a kick up the arse for you to start living.” I was stunned at what she was saying. “You are eighteen and just coasting through life. You have a miserable job…” I interrupted her and said that at least I had a job. “Yes you do, and I’m sure it’s fine in many ways but… I’ve never seen you actually happy for so long now. You seem to have few, if any, friends and mom and dad are no real help to encourage you…” The enormity of what she was saying suddenly gripped me and I felt that huge sob I’d been holding back in the pit of my stomach come out with force. I hung onto Gwyneth as I wailed and wailed, not this time because I was worried about what others might think but because she was correct. ***** Part 3 Later, when I’d calmed down, Gwyneth told me her thinking. She said that from the moment I saw the photo of me with Teddy as a baby there was an immediate change of expression on my face; wistful, thoughtful, with a touch of longing. She wasn’t sure but thought Teddy made me happy. I began to think back - certainly that time in my life, when I wasn’t regarded as anything but a toddler, when I didn’t have to prove myself and just enjoy my childhood… I was like everyone else my age… a little kid revelling in what was around him... I was happy. She went into a great deal of detail about how I tried so hard to live up to my parent’s expectations; they were of the opinion that kids should grow up quick and had little time for games and play – ‘read and learn’ was their philosophy. Unfortunately, those were the very things Gwyneth was most happy doing but I just couldn’t get to grips with. Reading and numbers just weren’t for me and I wrestled with school work, which I found very difficult no matter how I tried. My sister went on about how, even so young, I let failure weigh heavy on my shoulder, although it wasn’t always obvious because I tried to be positive and strived to be upbeat. Once our parents realised I wasn’t going to be a boy genius (they were most disappointed in my report cards) they more or less lost interest. They gave themselves over to their work and concentrated on their careers rather than what I did. Of course Gwyneth was way ahead in her development and they saw no problems there. Often I tried to read but once I’d open a book, if I got past the first two pages, well, my concentration level jumped to wanting to watch TV or go and play outside. Sometimes I’d curl up with Gwyneth and she’d read to me whatever it was she was interested in. I may not have understood everything but I think, without her, I’d know very little. When I thought about it, she did the job my parents should have done. It wasn’t that they ignored me, more that they tolerated me. I was their son after all… I zoned back in to what Gwyneth was saying. “You may not have been the cleverest in school but everyone liked you.” She looked at me very concerned and stroked my arm. She went on to tell me that even now I accept limitations but said I shouldn’t. She thought it sad that I didn’t have a girlfriend… or a boyfriend, she nudged me and smiled, but thought I needed to do something to break away from my ‘boring’ rut of a life… and do something to regain my happiness. “The recreation of the photograph last night suddenly brought things into focus for me,” she was on a roll now. “You seemed to become a different person, a happy person, a person who, left to their own devices… and given the right stimulus…” “You mean you thought I enjoyed being a baby?” I asked incredulously. She pointed to the screen. “Yes, just look at yourself. Even when you’re asleep you look happy.” A shiver ran through my body because I knew she was making some kind of sense and I had really loved last night. “But the diaper… what will people think?” “Well,” she pondered. “You may not like it but… I think that helped release something in you - something that has been holding you back. Last night we giggled like kids and there was no one around but us two to say anything or have an opinion about what we did. No parents, no workmates, no one to hold you back, so why should you let others inhibit you? Stop thinking about what others may think… they don’t matter.” Then she ran her hand through my hair and kissed my forehead, “And yes… even for an eighteen year-old, running around in a diaper… you looked pretty damn cute.” “But why put it all online, couldn’t you just have said something?” I complained. “It was just a spur of the moment decision. I wanted to let you see that the majority of people quite like to see someone enjoying themselves. People like all kinds of things to hide what they do and what they are, but you brother, were open and happy when you weren’t worrying about anyone else and I think others respond to that.” She pointed to the screen, “I think you respond to that.” * There were more opinions from my sister and, as she’s a lot brighter than me, eventually convinced me that this was a turning point in my life. She added that the comments online were almost all positive, occasionally cheeky but always interested, supportive and in some ways quite affectionate. Of course there’s going to be one or two people who hate the idea of others finding a way of having fun “Just so they can shit on you” (yep she actually said shit) but, and this is where her recent shopping trip had come in, she wanted to try and let me take that idea of happiness a little further. She’d bought a whole load of adult disposables and wanted me to spend the next few days wearing nothing but them. She persuaded me that I needed to get back to when I was at my happiest. To relive those times hoping to give me a window into what I needed to do to make me content in the future. I baulked at her suggestion but my sister has a way of getting me to go along with her plans so, guess what? She took me upstairs, stripped me out of my shorts and t-shirt and slipped me into a tight-fitting disposable. She took great pains to make the event something special; opening the package, unfurling the diaper, enjoying the crinkling sound as she spread it under my bottom. The wet-wipes and powder she used to clean me up (not that I was dirty or anything it was all part of a process), the silliness as I started to get a stiffy from her ministrations, which she quickly took care of by pulling the disposable tightly up between my legs and taping me snugly in. From her bag she produced a pair of plastic pants and had me climb into them after which led me to Teddy, who, during the proceedings she had found time to dress the same. How she knew I’d go along with her suggestion I do not know but, oddly enough, I was delighted to see Teddy dressed like me and it did make things easier. We spent the rest of the day playing games; me, my sister and Teddy. * Now you may think - well that was easy - getting me into diapers but I’ve spared you the long discussion we had to go through to get to that stage. She showed me loads of comments that had been posted by those who’d watched the clip or seen the images. As I’ve said, most seemed straight forward and nice but others were actually welcoming me to my ‘little’ side. I had no idea what they were referring to but Gwyneth seemed to understand and, more importantly, felt it was something I should get to know. Ever the author, she’d spent some time researching what it all meant and thought it applied to me, even if I wasn’t aware of it. She then showed me clip after clip of other grown-ups wearing diapers and having fun. People from all over the world and all ages, I was astonished there were others at all. A couple of cute boys in Japan appeared to have a site about their daily diapered exploits, one nice young man sang a song at his piano dressed in a thick diaper. There were so many – an old guy eating whilst in a high-chair, others drinking from baby-bottles and sippy cups or charging around whilst wearing nothing but diapers and a cape pretending to be a super hero. Meanwhile, as some played with toys several exhibited what they had just crayoned or painted. It was quite overwhelming and gave the impression that diapered and padded plastic covered bottoms were everywhere. It was a whole new world to me and one I had no idea existed but, as Gwyneth pointed out, they were all enjoying themselves and not worrying what anyone else thought. She convinced me to give it a go and promised that if I wasn’t getting any pleasure from the new ‘situation’ then we’d forget all about it. It was late evening when I was eventually diapered and, thanks to Gwyneth, I didn’t feel guilty whilst running around dressed as I was and cheerfully including Teddy in all my escapades. Suddenly my mind was open to fun - childish fun - fun that I hadn’t experienced, well, since I was a toddler. The truth was I was in my element. Weirdly, the wearing of a diaper and plastic pants (Gwyneth said it was my freedom uniform!) had no restricting effect on the way I behaved. In fact, she was correct, it felt wonderful to wear; snug, comfortable and the constant rustling as I moved around acted like some kind of soothing sound I found reassuring. Though it may have appeared very juvenile to anyone looking on I’d never felt happier, freer, or more content. The diapers, the plastic pants, the pacifier, indeed the entire ensemble gave me a feeling of complete reassurance. Teddy provided someone I could direct it all to, while Gwyneth was my guide and safeguard. * In the morning I woke up with Teddy and off course I’d spent the night wearing just my padded protection (another term Gwyneth used although I wasn’t sure from what it was I was being protected). My sister was standing over me and gently shaking my shoulder to rouse me from my deep and untroubled sleep and then, without asking, she felt down the front of my diaper. “What are you doing?” I queried as I quickly clasped her hand over my bulky protection stopping her searching fingers from reaching any further. “Just checking.” “Just checking what?” “Just seeing if you wet yourself in the night…” “What?” I asked incredulously. “Why would I wet myself?” “You might have… I was just checking so that you don’t have to be embarrassed if you had and…” “Stop, stop.” I waved my finger at her. “I’m old enough to get up and go to the bathroom, why on earth would I wet myself?” She smiled. “You don’t have to get all defensive. All I’m saying is… if you had wet yourself it’s OK I will…” “That’s not OK at all,” I argued. “I’m not going to pee… or poop in a diaper… YUK!” “Fair enough. All I’m saying is, should you do so then you don’t have to feel embarrassed about it. I’ll change and clean you up.” I was getting slightly annoyed. Even though I enjoyed being in my diaper I didn’t actually think about using it as a toilet. However, soon after she left the room for me to get up she returned with a new disposable and some other bits and bobs and told me I needed a change anyway. As I’d sort of agreed to wearing nothing but a diaper for the next couple of days she just shrugged off my half-hearted protests and unfurled the crinkly package. * As I lay there I was wondering - Why is she behaving in this way? We’d agreed that it was something I might like to try but wetting and stuff… in a diaper… I wasn’t keen on that at all, and then it hit me. She’d recently lost her own chance of a baby, perhaps the miscarriage was affecting her and I was now some kind of surrogate, someone she was projecting her unresolved feelings on? In that moment of comprehension my emotions welled up inside me again and I hugged my sister. After all she’d been through, still acting strong and in charge yet perhaps she needed her own way of coping with things. I was choked at the thought that if I could help, then I was there for her no matter what it took. Without making a fuss I let her strip off my night time stuff, clean me up (just as she said she would) but this time, when she had me lay out on the newly unfurled diaper, she added some extra pads before taping me tightly into place. This was a whole new experience and with the plastic pants now firmly holding it securely she led me down to breakfast. At this point I have to admit to being more than a little confused. I wasn’t sure whether I was doing this for her or for me but the bulky, rustling diaper arrangement meant I now had a wild noisy waddle as I negotiated the stairs but even that was funny and we joked about it. She’d cut up my pancakes and, although she’d put juice in a sippy cup, I stopped short at her suggestion of feeding me. However, I had noticed that my meal now came in a plastic bowl with cartoon animals smiling sweetly up at me and a spoon that echoed the same cheerful motif. She appeared to have gone to a lot of trouble to make me feel happy about being ‘little’ and I reluctantly began to appreciate all her efforts. * I was happy to wander around the house dressed as I was but when she suggested we go out for the day and enjoy the sunshine in the park or a walk up in the hills I was a little less sure. She told me to just pull a pair of shorts over my diaper and slip on a shirt and I’d be fine. I wasn’t sure about this at all as I was under no illusion that people would be able to tell what I was really wearing under my shorts. Her opinion was simple “Screw them” no one else mattered but me and, she whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “Don’t you think it would be quite exciting, Little Benjy doing what he wants for a change?” Once again, somehow, what she wanted I agreed to and before too long I’d tried on several pairs of shorts and jeans to try and hide the bulkiness, none of which fitted properly. I was beginning to see the downside to wearing padding and such thick padding at that. I was about to tell Gwyneth that I couldn’t find anything but in the end one pair of baggy shorts (I didn’t much like because they were too slack) managed to do the job and surprise, surprise, they were no longer loose. It was a wonderful hot day and I was more than pleased to be out and about not really paying much attention to what I was wearing. Although I could feel the bulk of it all I thought that the shorts hid what was underneath pretty well. We walked up into the hills and hardly saw anyone, those that did pass by just nodded or said “Hello” and carried on their way. We found a lovely shady spot where Gwyneth decided we’d have our picnic. She’d brought sodas, sandwiches and fruit but I wondered what I’d brought in the little backpack she’d given me to carry. She told me all would be revealed eventually but for the time being we should eat and enjoy the wonderful, peaceful surroundings. * The mass between my legs had made me waddle as we walked. It felt peculiar but I was getting a feeling of pleasure knowing what I was wearing, the problem was the padding and plastic made me sweat and I could feel moisture pooling at my crotch. Once we’d sat down Gwyneth saw me trying to rearrange the diaper and suggested, as it was so hot, I take off my shorts and shirt to let some sun and air get to my diaper… as I looked like “…a sweating pig”. It was true I was soaked and it would be a bit of a relief so I furtively looked around and saw no one anywhere near so I did as she suggested. It felt great being outside in the fresh air in just a diaper. Gwyneth thought I looked particularly cute and encouraged me run around and to chase butterflies as she got the picnic ready. I was aware that she was also taking photos with her phone and to be honest I was acting the big kid just for the camera. However, I didn’t know just how much I was enjoying myself until a little while later I noticed a couple talking with Gwyneth. I froze as I heard these two old people, both with walking sticks, making small talk about the weather and the beautiful countryside. They were looking across at me, waving and I heard them say that they liked to see a boy enjoying himself. So engrossed in my game of ‘chase the bugs’ I hadn’t seen the couple arrive but their sudden appearance startled me and made me do something I never thought I’d do - I felt a nervous spurt of pee escape. It was if my bladder was shocked by this unexpected visitation and reacted accordingly. I stood there stunned as they continued to chat and wave a greeting. Unfortunately, I was too embarrassed to respond even if no one else appeared to be. It was too late to hide so I just stood there, like a statue, about twenty feet away completely immobile and wishing I was somewhere else. Gwyneth called me over as the food was ready and inferred I should come and say ‘Hello’ but I was just too self-conscious. Eventually, the couple stopped talking to Gwyneth and carried on their way. As they passed by they smiled and said what a lovely day it was before disappearing down the hill. However, as they spoke, and without warning, my little spurt turned into a flow and no matter what my brain was saying to try and stop it, pee filled the diaper to complete my humiliation. The couple had obviously seen what I was wearing but there was no mention of diapers or shiny plastic pants, even though they were now an even bulkier part of my outfit having absorbed a great deal of liquid. * I waddled over to Gwyneth who looked at me strangely before I think she realized what I’d done. With a knowing but sympathetic expression she asked. “Do you need a change?” I wasn’t sure whether to admit it but there seemed little point in denying what had happened so I nodded. She lifted her hand examining the front of my diaper and said it wasn’t so bad and that it could wait for a while and we should eat first. Despite my embarrassment I was starving so plonked myself down on the blanket and set about the ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches (covered in mayo) with relish. ***** Part 4 Wearing a wet diaper wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it would be and after a while, and despite the bulk, I’d forgotten that I’d wet them. After we’d eaten we had a game of ‘ISpy’ and a rather interesting competition of cloud watching; it really is incredible the shapes you can interpret into actual things. We were coming up with some silly and clearly outrageous suggestions and this had us giggling quite a lot. However, after a couple of hours, and several cans of soda, I was desperate for another pee. Gwyneth looked at me when I said I needed to go because I was searching for a private spot to do my duty. She just reminded me that I’d already used my diaper once so it would be silly not to do so again. I thought I couldn’t do it deliberately but Gwyneth pounced, rolled on top of me and began to tickle. Whether I wanted to or not that got the old pee flowing, and it is to the credit of the diaper’s absorption powers that nothing trickled out. * We lay in the sun enjoying the final few rays before we returned home. I wondered if I’d have to squish all the way but my ever prepared sister opened the little backpack I’d carried, emptied it out and there were spare disposables, plastic pants, creams, lotions and of course a supply of wipes and baby powder. I had no idea that was what I was carrying but, as she pulled at the tapes off my swollen diaper I was rather pleased she’d planned ahead. It was a relief when she removed the soggy thing. It had expanded to quite a size and again I was amazed that I’d been wearing that grossly expanded object between my legs and, perhaps more to the point, it hadn’t concerned me in the least. As she wiped me clean but before she applied the creams and powder a light breeze blew against my naked genitals and sent tiny ripples of bliss through my body. My penis reacted and grew under her deft handiwork but she just smiled, pulled the diaper between my well-powdered groin and quickly taped it into place; flattening its stiffness against my body and blocking any further thoughts I might have had regarding that particular bit of my anatomy. This time the plastic pants I stepped into were blue and I was dressed like that for a few minutes as we packed everything else away. Gwyneth took more photographs and kept on reminding me how wonderful and sweet she thought I looked. In fact, at every opportunity she kept complementing the way I looked and patting my padded bottom, which made me chuckle, I liked the attention. The day had been nothing like any other I could remember. I couldn’t remember ever doing this with mom or dad, days out were just something other kids got to experience with their parents. This was great and even in diapers, it had been a fantastic day… in fact I was appreciating even more the incredible efforts my sister had gone to for me to feel special on my eighteenth. * Back home we sat and watched TV for a while (her in her summer dress and me wearing nothing but a diaper and plastic pants), before she recommended I had a bath before bed - to make sure, she jokingly said, that there was no residue pee left secreted in any ‘crevices’. Normally, I have a shower in the morning and that’s it but her reasonable suggestion made me think it probably wasn’t a bad idea so off I went. I shucked off my diaper, which wasn’t wet, and happily climbed into the suds. The water was very hot but I could just about stand it; my sister’s lavender bubble bath I’d ladled in helped me to fully relax as I let myself soak for quite some time. It had been one hell of a day and as I washed my hair and gently scrubbed those all-important places I began to feel ‘playful’ again. Wearing a diaper had a major drawback for a horny eighteen year-old, it restricted (if not completely prevented) any cock and ball play. A toddler may not think that way but, now I was out of those confining things, I intended on having a different kind of fun. However, just as I was enjoying the gentle caress of my own soapy hand, Gwyneth walked in with a towel. I was slightly embarrassed at being caught in mid-stroke but she just smiled and told me that I’d wrinkle up if I didn’t get out of the bath. I was hoping she’d go so I could continue with my efforts but she just stood there, towel outstretched, waiting for me to rise from the foam. Reluctantly I climbed out and Gwyneth proceeded to give me the most thorough drying I think I’ve ever received; every bit of my body was methodically rubbed. Unfortunately, she ignored the very part of me that would have benefitted from such an enthusiastic massage and I was left more than a little frustrated. * She guided me to my room and of course her supplies were all laid out ready for me to be diapered for the night. I really thought that it would be back to my usual boxers and t-shirt to sleep in but obviously Gwyneth had other ideas. I was about to complain, or try and reason with her at least, but she’d gone to such extraordinary lengths so far to make me happy I wondered if this was perhaps another thing I thought I didn’t want but actually did. Anyway, the upshot was that she carefully applied lotions and creams, lashings of powder and an ultra-thick fabric diaper, which was held in place with two huge pink pins. Once again she slipped up a pair of clear plastic pants that snugly held it all together and, just as I thought she’d finished and was about to crawl into bed, she produced something else, a pair of footed pjs. I wasn’t expecting this and wondered how the hell she’d been able to get hold of something my size so quickly. The pjs were blue with cartoon stars and planets all over them and, as she fed my feet into them, I marvelled at how soft the fabric was as it touched and caressed my skin. Soon my arms were encased and she stood me up for the final action. The zip was at the back and stretched from hips to neck, which she closed with a flourish. Then we stood together looking in the mirror and it was an amazing sight. For a brief second I was stunned at the reflection; I thought she looked like mom and I was back to being a toddler, I was even holding her hand and, as a shiver ran through my body, and despite my size, I really did feel like I was back to being a little kid. I was speechless as Gwyneth gently led me to my bed, pulled back the covers, where Teddy was lying still dressed in his own diaper, and urged me in. I was dazed at this strange ‘mirror revelation’, a glimpse of my past that really shook me and, because I was distracted thinking about it, wasn’t even aware that she had slipped a babies bottle full of warm milk between my lips. As she held it to my mouth, and with my mind elsewhere, I naturally began to suck and closed my eyes as I rhythmically downed the entire contents. Later she replaced the bottle with my paci and left me cuddling Teddy as I drifted off to sleep after what, one way and another, had been a pretty eventful day. * My dreams were of Teddy and me and Gwyneth and me, where Gwyneth was actually my mommy and Teddy was my father… weird. At one point mommy (Gwyneth) was telling me what a ‘good boy’ I was because I’d managed to use the potty correctly but daddy (Teddy) was threatening to spank me if I didn’t wear my diaper like he was (yes in my dreams Teddy/daddy was still wearing his diaper). In my dreams I was doing all I could to please them both and each one was telling me what a ‘clever baby’ I was being. I woke up desperate for a pee. I climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom but once there found I couldn’t reach the zip on the rear of my footer. I tugged and tugged but for some reason I just couldn’t budge it, in the end I had no option but to fill my diaper. I argued with myself that was what the diaper was for, and Gwyneth had encouraged me to think of it in that way, “Just do it” had been her advice, so that’s what I did. To begin with it was a strange warm sensation, which I didn’t mind much, luckily the diaper and plastic pants held it all in and I was able to fall back to sleep relatively quickly. In the early hours I felt I needed to go again but this time I made no attempt to get to the bathroom so lay there and with little effort further filled my diaper. When I eventually did wake up the diaper was thick between my legs and my plastic pants where a shiny stretched reminder at just how much I’d drunk the night before. However, and this fact was a bit of an eye-opener, it didn’t worry me what I’d done. Just the day before the very thought had made me recoil in horror but here I was wearing a fully soaked diaper and not being bothered about it in the slightest. * I got up and sought out Gwyneth because I needed help getting out of the footer. She was already downstairs making breakfast and smiled as I shuffled into the kitchen. Another few photographs were taken as I asked her to let me out but she just told me to sit down and have the bacon and eggs she’d cooked before they got cold, and which had been cut into bite sized pieces. I waddled to the table (I was waddling everywhere at that time) sat down and it was a squelchy diaper that cushioned my bottom. Once again everything was served in the new little kiddie bowl and I was given only the matching spoon to use. My juice was served in a sippy cup and despite any doubts I may have had I was so famished I happily ate and drank the lot. Once my plate was clean and I’d taken it to be washed Gwyneth led me back upstairs to be changed. She tweaked the zipper and it easily came down but I informed her that I was very, very wet because I couldn’t get to the bathroom to go properly. She just smiled as I stepped out of my pjs making small talk about what the plans were for the day and as if changing an eighteen year-old was the most natural thing to do. I shucked down my plastic pants and the fabric beneath was saturated. She asked if I’d messed as well but I just made an “Uuuurrrghhh” type of noise to indicate no and she patted my swollen bottom and unpinned me. How she could be OK with all this changing business I didn’t know but I suppose, thinking about what I’d assumed earlier, she was substituting me for her lost baby… well maybe. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to spoil whatever fantasy or need she had at that moment because, well, I was still enjoying playing this game myself. * Gwyneth had been correct about there being a ‘little’ me somewhere inside and that the people online and who commented on YouTube had also noticed it so, I was feeling part of a pretty cute group. I liked the term ‘little’ and, as my sister had shown me, dressed in diapers had released me to be the fun person she suspected I was all along. With her encouragement being childish was nothing to be ashamed about and living an enjoyable life as a toddler certainly beat stacking shelves. However, work was on the horizon and I wanted to make the most of my time off before it was back to the grindstone. I’d even begun to think that perhaps I might be able to wear a diaper or something similar under my uniform but I was sure the outline would be obvious as the pants were so tight. I showered and Gwyneth once again got me ready for the day. She put a couple of pads in the disposable and pulled up the clear plastic pants. She pointed to a mark on the front and told me that, if I wet them, then the mark would change colour and she could check without me saying anything if I needed changing. Then she pulled out a new yellow t-shirt with tiny toy rocking horses all over them and slipped it over my head. Although I did a sort of double-take because it looked so childish she then produced a matching pair of shorts which she quickly fed my legs into and pulled up to my waist. Again that feeling of just being a little kid with mommy dressing me coursed through my body and I stood transfixed by my new outfit. Although I was eighteen I wasn’t a large teenager, in fact, Gwyneth was a good two inches taller than me and looked much bigger. However, I didn’t get chance to be pleased or complain because Gwyneth was guiding my crinkling butt down the stairs and out to the car. * I had no idea where we were going but Gwyneth was telling me about some of the online comments she had read. According to her, loads of them had said that it was best to make the ‘little one’ happy and comfortable in clothes that were soft, colourful and reminded them of when they were a toddler. Toys and colouring books were also an important aspect to all this so that’s where we were going now, to a mall that had a huge toy store. For every reason I put up not to go (especially dressed as I was) she had a comment that said the opposite. There was no doubt that the bulky diaper I was sitting on was a constant reminder of what I liked and perhaps surprisingly I found the hugging of my hips and groin very pleasing. However, although I quite liked it I thought my little yellow outfit was maybe going too far to be seen in public. Gwyneth said I shouldn’t worry, everything would be alright and was convinced no one would say a thing. I doubted that and remained silent for the rest of the journey. * In the silence I began to think. How come she had a footer my size? How come she had this outfit ready? How come she had a paci, bowl, diapers and plastic…? Just as my suspicions were growing I suddenly got a pain in my stomach. I groaned and Gwyneth asked me what was wrong. I tried to tell her about the pain but almost instantaneously my guts started to churn. I begged Gwyneth to pull over as I needed to go to the bathroom but she said there wasn’t one nearby. She said that I should just pee in the diaper but I moaned I thought it might be more than that. “OK, just hold on we’re not far away.” She said with concern etched on her face. Unfortunately, the turmoil in my stomach wasn’t open to any constraints from me and I couldn’t hold back. With a loud wet fart the contents of my bowel erupted into my diaper and I was crying in humiliation and disgust as wave after wave of poop exited my bottom. The smell in the car was awful and Gwyneth had to roll down the window to get us both some air. I sat in my own rapidly filling diaper stunned at what was happening. As soon as my guts exploded the pain had instantly gone but I was mortified by the strange and disgusting feeling in my pants… my emotions took over and there were more tears. A couple of minutes later and we arrived at the mall but I thought in my state I just couldn’t leave the car. However, she insisted that I couldn’t just sit in the mess and that I wasn’t to worry she’d have me cleaned up in no time. She grabbed my hand and led me crying and gingerly waddling towards Toys’r’Us, which was the first store in the mall nearest to where we parked. There were a few kids already looking at toys with their parents but Gwyneth led me straight to the baby changing area. It was empty when we went in and although I was crying and embarrassed I let her take charge. My little shorts were pulled off, which thankfully were still clean, she then tentatively shimmied the plastic pants down to reveal my bloated and discoloured disposable. Mercifully, the extra padding had absorbed most of the liquid but I was still a mess. She quickly stripped me out of it all and, with barely any acknowledgement to the smell, set about cleaning me up. I hadn’t noticed the large bag she was carrying but as she lay me out on one of the counters, she opened it up to reveal a host of stuff she’d need to fix me. First she used toilet paper and then going over to the sink soaped up a cloth she’d brought and began to wipe away the debris. I was still sniffling when someone else came in. A woman with a baby took one look at me, looked pityingly at Gwyneth and then set about changing her own child. My clean-up took quite some time and during that period I lay there motionless, self-conscious and desperate not to make eye contact with any of the other patrons using the facilities. * A lady with a boy aged about ten came in, found the empty table next to mine and stripped her son out of his shortalls by simply popping some studs at his crotch, laying him out and then popping the studs on his cute cartoon plastic pants, which instantly gave her easy access to his soaked diaper. Gwyneth watched how easily it all appeared and asked the lady where she had bought her boy’s shortalls. After a brief discussion about their usefulness and hardwearing properties (“Just the thing for an active boy”) she made a note of the name she’d been given, thanked her and resumed my re-diapering. The young boy and I were finished together. Gwyneth pulled up my yellow shorts as his mother finished pressing the last few poppers back together. He bashfully smiled at me as his mum picked him up, patted his freshly padded bottom and they set off to finish their shopping… and quite unexpectedly I cautiously waved back. The young boy’s attitude to being changed in public had stopped me blubbing as he seemed untroubled by the process. That sweet little smile had really got to me and I wished we could play together. I was no longer thinking of our age difference only what we had in common and we both wore diapers and had accidents in them. It was a revelation and suddenly I didn’t feel so self-conscious. * Once Gwyneth had packed all her stuff away, and before we left the bathroom, she asked if I was OK. Now I was clean, dry and wearing my thick ‘protection’ (now I knew what Gwyneth had meant by that term) I was comfortable and quite happy to continue. “Good,” she said as she patted my freshly padded bottom and we entered the main part of the store. The array of toys was spellbinding. Mom and dad had never been keen on my playing with such childish things and because Gwyneth, even as a youngster, preferred to read, I wasn’t encouraged or given many toys to play with. As we toured the aisles I was spoilt for choice, I just didn’t know what to get for the best. Over in the kids play area right next to the store I saw the young boy from earlier running around with some younger kids sliding into the ball pit, running on the rope bridge and playing on the JungleGym. He noticed me and waved again and it was the first time I noticed that his diaper was really quite obvious and thick. However, he seemed unconcerned as he smiled, whooped with pleasure and chased some other kids into another part of the ‘playzone’. * Sitting on the floor in front of a plastic toy garage was another guy, perhaps a few years older than me, seeing how the wind-up lift worked that took the toy cars to the top to let them zigzag down again. He was wearing denim shorts but because he was bent over there was no hiding the top of his diaper from showing above the waistband. As I walked past he looked up and smiled, whilst running one of the four vehicles scattered around him along the ground and making car noises. “That looks fun,” I said and he invited me to join him on the floor. He was a lot older than his clothes would have suggested; he had a huge cartoon character on the front of his sweatshirt and his socks also had the same image festooned all over them. His sneakers had lights in the heel which flashed as he walked and he spoke, well, like a toddler. He was both shy and enthusiastic to have someone to play with but then I saw an older man approach who asked him if he’d made a friend. Gwyneth and the man got talking as we played together and inspected all the secrets that the garage contained. I didn’t hear what they were saying because my new friend grabbed my hand and took me to another aisle to look at the latest huge toy castle that he said his ‘dada’ was going to buy him. His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want anyone to notice him, but he was enthusiastic as he explained all the fantastic things the castle contained and all the dragons, monsters and soldiers you could get to do battle. He seemed so excited but then his ‘dada’ called him and he went rushing off to hold his hand. Even though he was older than me he acted like a little kid; shyly holding his ‘dada’s’ hand and swinging a foot whilst he waited for him to stop chatting with Gwyneth. I have to admit, knowing he was wearing a diaper like me was heart-warming, he looked so sweet and just as at ease as the ten year-old boy had been. I sat where I was inspecting the massive plastic castle with all its turrets and towers and wondered if I should get one. He’d fired my imagination and I liked the idea of dragons and knights and fantastic mythical encounters. A few moments later Gwyneth called me but I hadn’t made up my mind. We spent a good couple of hours looking at everything but I really wished I could play in the kids Playzone with all the other children as it looked fun. However, I realised that it just wasn’t built for someone my size and I’d just have to watch. After the two encounters with other ‘older’ diaper wearers, now I was all clean and tidy myself I never gave what I was wearing much thought and it was only the knowing smile from an adult, or a gawping look from a toddler that occasionally made me hesitate. However, I had work to do and decisions to make and they didn’t come easily. In the end I settled on some cars, a large truck and loads of little figures and colouring books from the latest Pixar movie. ***** Tbc
  10. Hi Is the answer to resubmit our stories or shall we just put them back ourselves with the heading to say just that? Les
  11. Hi Yes it is called Billy's Fault and congrats on saving it. Hope to see everything back to normal soon as there are an awful lot of great stories I was following that have just disappeared. However, if it needs me to re-post all my stories I can do that but I'll wait until I'm given the nod to do so. Les
  12. Hi Britnee Yes there should be the completed story there but it seems there is a bit of tech trouble and stuff has gone missing. Hopefully the powers that be will be able to repair it before too long... let's hope anyway. Les
  13. Billy’s Fault Part 1 There were three things in life Billy Southall hated; his younger sister Dee-Dee, his older sister Elizabeth (Lizzie) and his mother, Sandra. His father, Eddie, was serving a ten year custodial sentence for ‘Criminal Fraud’ so eleven year-old Billy was left under the influence of the bossy and difficult female side of his family. Even the baby of the family, six year-old Dee-Dee, seemed to have a demanding attitude like the rest of them. Billy was the one constantly blamed for any mishaps; the one who had to run errands, the one who was put upon most… when not at school he hardly had a moment to play with his mates. No matter what he did, or where he went, there was always one of ‘them’ hanging around. If he wanted to go off with his friends, there was always one of his sisters who would insist (or be insisted upon by his mum) in tow. Trying to be a typical boy with his other eleven year-old mates was difficult if you had a six year-old sister dragging at your heels or an older, more demanding fourteen year-old sister insisting you play her version of a game. His schoolboy friends didn’t often come over to play as they hated all watered down games and the girly stuff they had to endure. It was difficult being a boy in the Southall family household. As far as the female side of the family were concerned it would be a lot better if Billy was a girl and then they’d be no problems at all. As far as Billy was concerned, girls ruined everything. # Billy was quite small for an eleven year-old. At four feet four inches he was the second smallest boy in class, but, as with all children, he didn’t let it worry him because everyone told him a growth spurt would be along any minute. At school he was a lively, if not particularly bright student but seemed to get on with most people his age. The days when he was taunted or set upon because of his criminal father were few and far between. His floppy brown hair was no longer pulled or his brown eyes being occasionally blackened after a rumour circulated around school that the ‘criminal underworld’ had put a bounty on anyone giving little Billy grief. His younger sister Dee-Dee was also small for her age. Her long brown hair and brown eyes made the two youngsters look remarkably alike, although both would object noisily when anyone made such an observation. Dee-Dee took after her sister in that she was always just slightly ahead of anyone else in class and enjoyed organising and regimenting her toys. She also thought all boys were ‘stoopid’ and her brother the ‘stoopidest’ of them all. They were always at each other’s throat but mum and Lizzie always took her side so, between the two, she always won any argument. Billy hated it when his mother dressed him and Dee-Dee similarly. Not that Billy wore a skirt or anything it was just that at times they seemed to wear colour-coordinated outfits that Sandra liked. She thought it made them look like a family, whereas Billy thought it made him look like a girl. He hated it and rebelled as much as he could but really he had no weapons to fight back with apart from being disagreeable and, as they were all used to that now, had no defences at all. He may have screamed and fussed but in the end, a spanking would soon get him back in line and his mother wasn’t above using this action as the first line of battle rather than the last, “It saved time” she often used to say. Elizabeth took after her father. She was tall, dark, had a very quick mind and at times could be quiet devious (it was her that set the rumour doing the rounds about the contract from the criminal underworld). She’d seen a problem, and without doing a great deal, had found a solution of sorts, the outcome being that her younger brother was rarely in fights anymore. She didn’t like the idea of him being picked on, that was her job. She was a great deal cleverer than her teachers thought but deliberately held back in lessons. She knew she was bright, yet for some reason known only to her, had no intention of showing that side of her character. At fourteen years old she was almost as tall as her mother and, as dad was no longer around, behaved as if she were her equal. # One morning, in fact the first day of the summer holidays, Billy woke up to find his pyjamas and bedding absolutely sodden. At first he thought there must have been a leak in the ceiling and then wondered if someone had spilt something but eventually it dawned on him that he’d had a rather wet accident. He didn’t know what to do. His mum would need to wash everything and he wasn’t bright enough to think that he could hide the fact and pretend nothing had happened. No, he would just tell her, apologise, look a bit dejected and hope that she wouldn’t shout or scream… or worse. Since his father was jailed four years earlier he’d had no male influence in his home life. Not that Eddie was anything but ‘illusive’. He didn’t seem to notice how much his son hated being dominated at home. How much he felt inferior to his sisters or how little support he received from dad. Eddie was just too easy going for his own good and that lethargy was what led to his eventual capture by the authorities. When he had been home he always took the ‘girls’ side in any argument, often with a small humorous aside to Billy that it was “…easier in the long run to simply agree”. That aside also carried with it a sort of “Get used to it” which Billy found infuriating but true. Even the relations when they came to visit were mostly female (from his mother’s side) and Billy would end up besieged in his room by girly cousins and kissy aunts. Thankfully, he had mates at school so at least he had male company there, though they disappeared once the school day ended. Unfortunately, Billy had chosen the wrong day to start wetting the bed as his mother was already fraught with what she was going to do with her kids now the school year had finished. Work had become intense and long hours were needed almost all the time. Because of this she was working all hours god sent to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. She had to come up with an answer as soon as possible. # Her solution was simply to put Lizzie in charge. She was already ruling the roost so it wasn’t a huge jump to let her take total responsibility for her younger siblings. Of course, Elizabeth being Elizabeth extricated an increase in her allowance for taking on such responsibility. There wasn’t a great deal of spare money about the house so everything was put on the ‘necessary’ and ‘within budget’ list should anything other than food be needed. When Eddie had been around money seemed to be fairly plentiful. He earned a reasonable amount at his place of work so between them, the two adults were managing okay. However, now he was inside the breadwinner was Sandra and, as her job was becoming more and more demanding, so the kids were suffering as a result. No spare cash for treats or anything special and on top of that, they were seeing less and less of her as she had to work long hours to make ends meet. Sandra had hated that the handsome man she loved had a criminal side and, as justice was served, he’d been locked away after a long court case. However, she decided the rest of the family would not benefit from, or suffer as a result, of his activities. His criminality had been discovered just before the final part of his ingenious plan to de-fraud the large conglomerate he worked for was instigated. It would have netted a few million which stupidly he thought was worth the risk. Unfortunately, now he wasn’t able to look after his wife and children properly, his plan looked very flimsy indeed and although it was him behind bars, it was they who, from lack of cash and stability, were suffering. With Eddie was in jail Sandra wanted her children to respect the law and not be influenced by their father’s deeds. The problem she had was that her kids were too young to really understand the relevance of him getting such a long jail sentence. How it made finances a problem and, just to keep their heads above water, how much harder she would have to work. However, the fact that she even had to think this way made her an angry, short-tempered and severe woman. She loved her kids but at times could have drowned the whole lot of them. Thankfully, they were getting to an age where they could look after themselves, and, with the hassles of her job, she was thankful that Elizabeth could take some of the strain. Sandra saw this constant conflict between her son and daughters and often wished she’d had three girls and then, she assumed, life would be so much easier. In her head she remembered how well she and her three sisters all got on together as they grew up. She happily reminisced about the support sisters gave each other and how disagreements were few and far between. Although not completely true that’s how she remembered her youth and wished the same for her kids. The constant bickering, screaming, arguments, moodiness and plain aggravation was too much when she had other things to worry about. With her patience at an all-time low and stress at an all-time high she needed calm and serenity at home, which she knew wasn’t going to happen. She saw Billy, thanks to the regular negative comments from her daughters, as a disruptive and annoying influence, the cause of all disorder, so sided with them over everything. Billy was not happy about his elder sister being given such influence because he knew it meant only one thing, total control over everything he wanted to do. He knew she loved nothing better than to impose rules and issue restrictions… she was very power-hungry for someone so young. He also knew that she was larger and stronger than he was so he’d have no alternative but to comply otherwise she’d just hurt him. He’d tried to stand up to her before and had the bruises for almost a week afterwards to prove it. She was tough and uncompromising, in other words, a bully. The problem was that now he’d wet the bed – and he didn’t know why or how - what would happen next? # His mother was angry at his wet accident. “Typical of a lazy, thoughtless boy,” was how she saw it. Nonetheless she decided it was probably a one off but made it clear to the scared lad that if it happened again, more drastic action would be taken. She didn’t spell out exactly what that meant but his older sister kept making baby noises and implying that’s how he’d end up. Billy’s stress level accelerated as he worried about such consequences. He had no idea why he’d wet in the first place, it was something he hadn’t done since he was four. However, now that he’d had this nocturnal accident it was all he could think about. This was no way to start the school break and yet, somehow he knew it would be the only thing that mattered. It would be the main conversation. He knew his sisters wouldn’t let him forget it and wasn’t sure how his mother would deal with it either. With Elizabeth and Dee-Dee taunting and calling him a baby (and when he wasn’t looking, pulling at the waistband of his pants to check he was still dry), he really wished he’d not had such a disastrous accident. His mother briefly speculated if he was ‘stressed’ about something at school but other than that thought, appeared not to be all that interested. It was just one of those silly and inconvenient ‘accidents’ that kids had. Mind you, she’d also accused him of being too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom now that the holidays had started but again, this was just a dismissive rant at her ‘thoughtless’ son. Billy tried to think why it might have happened but came up with nothing. There were no problems at school, in fact, now they were on summer break he was looking forward to getting out and spending more time with his friends away from his annoying family. He hoped that as he was getting a little older he’d be given more freedom to explore and be with his friends. He didn’t think that his excitement at such a prospect would have caused any kind of reaction. He was at a loss because the only thing he knew for sure was he’d woken up to a flooded, urine soaked bed. He had another secret which was; that morning once he’d washed and dressed he’d accidentally peed himself again, whilst thinking about why he’d peed at night. Without warning a sudden hot spurt of urine dampened his clean white underpants before he had chance to clamp down on his bladder and finish the job at the toilet. He was thankful that the surprise and embarrassment had been his alone and there were no witnesses. He quickly changed and rinsed out his stained briefs hoping no one would be ever the wiser. He was eleven years old and about to go up to big school so knew he shouldn’t be having such accidents. But that was twice now and he was worried, although he didn’t know what exactly it was he should be worried about. The pee that had just soaked his briefs had sent an uncomfortable tremor through his body just moments before it happened but he didn’t equate the two things to the outcome. Because he saw it as his own fault he fretted that his friends would find out and was convinced that, at the earliest opportunity, one of his sisters would reveal such a night time misfortune to all his mates. Thankfully there was no school for any gossip to run rampant but he was still anxious. He’d have been even more worried if he knew his little accident had given his big sister an idea on how to keep her siblings under control during the school break. # Had he called his friends he might have been able to see where the root of his problem lay. Two days earlier, he and a few of his mates had taken full advantage of a wonderful hot summer’s afternoon. On their way home from school and making plans for things to do during the long break they had taken a slight detour and ended up down by the canal. Feeling hot and sticky from their walk they dared each other to jump in because they’d seen other kids splashing about on the bank further along the towpath. Ever since Billy was little his mother had continually emphasised that although it looks a peaceful stretch of water, he should never go into the canal as it was a dangerous place for a young boy to play. She knew at times it looked inviting but made him promise he’d never do what she’d seen other children do, and go for a swim in it. She told him it was full of hazards like submerged supermarket trolleys that had been thrown in and weeds that could easily entangle a person. It was full of unseen and unspecified dangers. She warned him that it was a very unhealthy place to even dangle his feet but, in the excitement of a hot afternoon and the fast approaching end of school, that was all forgotten. He’d been warned yet chose that moment to play leader and show his friends he wasn’t afraid of a bit of water. He pulled off his school clothes, apart from his underpants, and launched himself into the almost still water. His friends, Dave, Aaron and Mitch, not to be outdone, joined him and soon the group of four eleven year-old boys were splashing about and gratefully cooling off from the afternoon’s heat. They were caught up in the euphoria of adolescent dare-devilment, bravado and simply disobeying parents so, since no one was around to witness the event, they assumed there’d be no consequence. Of course he never mentioned this illicit swim to his mother because he was able to dry himself before returning home. However, had he remembered the dire warnings his mother had given him in the past, he might have known that the canal had other invisible jeopardies. If he’d made a call to any of those mates he’d swum with he would have found that two, Dave and Mitch had bad diarrhoea and Aaron, like Billy, had contracted a bladder infection. However, Billy hadn’t connected as relevant the trip to the canal with the bedwetting. In fact, he was keeping completely quiet about that little adventure. He knew he’d be in very serious trouble if he admitted to his mum he’d been in the canal and was desperate not to be grounded for the summer. Over the years the other three boys had also received similar dire warnings about the hazards of swimming in the canal so they had also decided to keep quiet about what they’d been up to. That meant their parents, like Billy’s mother, were equally baffled when their offspring suddenly started messing the pants (or beds) in one way or another. Meanwhile, unknown to Billy was that loads of little nasty microbes were using his bladder as their own personal playground and, without treatment, were going to make life hell for their host… and a wet bed was only the start. # Elizabeth, having been given the responsibility to keep her brother and sister in check for the entire break, needed something during that period to amuse her. Her brother’s accident and subsequent shame had got her mind ticking and, after some thoughts being championed before being dropped, settled on a plan she decided would be both fun… and a challenge. That night, whilst Dee-Dee and Billy slept, Lizzie took a small empty squeezy bottle and attached a length of plastic tubing to it. She filled it with a mixture of her own urine and warm water and then, as they slept, surreptitiously doused it over both their groins. She was very careful and took the entire process slowly making sure that they were both well soaked by the time she’d finished. In the morning mother was none too happy about seeing her two youngest children returning to their childhood problems. On cue mother hit the roof, her mystified and crying wet children only adding to her annoyance. She had enough to cope with without all this ‘silliness’ and extra work. Even Dee-Dee came in for a stern telling off and the threat of a severe spanking for them both if it continued. Mum was just too pre-occupied to delve any deeper and hoped this was just a passing phase. Sandra was used to difficult situations; since she’d met him her husband Eddie had dropped her in ‘it’ on many occasions. His free-wheeling way of dealing with life and the law, meant that she’d had to learn quickly to deal with his disastrous shortcomings. Fortunately, despite Eddie’s transgressions, she hadn’t turned her hand to criminal activity and was very well thought of in her high-pressure (if lowly paid) job as head of marketing for a local manufacturer. However, her husband’s history was always at the forefront of her mind when she dealt with colleagues and customers. She knew she had not only to be above suspicion; she had to be better than anyone else and so had grown a very tough hide, which made her imperious in negotiations. She was very good at her job so demand on her work time was always there and, as she had to keep three kids in food, clothes and a roof over their heads, she worked almost nonstop. Dee-Dee had been as shocked as her brother when she woke up to her wet nighty and bedding. She screamed it was Billy’s fault for ‘infecting’ her but even so was quite humiliated by the incident. She hadn’t wet the bed since being a toddler and was convinced it had something to do with her ‘stoopid’ brother. She’d just had her first year at school and was regarded as one of the brightest kids of the year; she didn’t now want to be thought of as a ‘stoopid’ baby bedwetter. However, her own trauma seemed as nothing compared to the hysterics Billy was going through on his personal discovery. He couldn’t explain it, had no recollection or reason for doing it and dreaded what would happen as a result. He cried and begged his mother not to punish him but to no avail. She was on the warpath over her ‘thoughtless’ kids seemingly doing everything they could to make her life that much more complicated. She didn’t want excuses, she simply saw it as yet another thing to cope with and one she shouldn’t have to. After all, her kids were old enough not to piss themselves. She wasn’t thinking about the whys or wherefores of her children’s wet trauma, she was finding it difficult in keeping her temper under control. In the past, when Billy had been naughty or just plain annoying, she’d deliver a quick couple of spanks and that would be it – a hot bottom but instant. However, at that moment, she had breakfast to arrange and herself off to work so didn’t have time. Nevertheless, running late as she was and about to storm out the door she left the threat that Elizabeth was in charge, so, their bedding had better be washed and everything back to normal when she returned home. The implied menace was that there would be worse to come if things hadn’t been achieved. At least she hadn’t paddled them for their ‘accidents’ but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t later on. Both were petrified about being punished for something they couldn’t control and worried that their mother was so overwrought, she might just spank them even harder. “It’s all your fault, you big baby.” Dee-Dee sulkily complained to her brother. Billy had soaked the bed for a second time, together with accidentally wetting his briefs it was now a problem but didn’t know why. This was worrying but even more worrying he knew that Lizzie would use it against him. She’d made it clear what she thought of her ‘pissy little brother’ and feared the worst. He was very surprised that Dee-Dee also had an accident. To him at least, this was highly suspicious, although, for the moment at least, she was in the same sorry boat as him so wasn’t as unpleasant or uppity. # Meanwhile, as the two youngest sat guiltily eating breakfast Elizabeth privately suggested to her fraught mother that because they’d both wet like babies, perhaps that was how they should be treated. Although Sandra wasn’t sure if that was the best course of action, she realised action needed to be taken. As her eldest pointed out, because she’d been put in charge, she didn’t want to be cleaning up their wet bedding every morning. She had a point, so Sandra agreed that they should wear protection at night and see how things went. She was a bit troubled as to why both her youngest should suddenly start wetting again but really couldn’t give it enough thought as she was just too busy with work. Since her husband had been sent to jail four years earlier she had come to rely on her eldest daughter to help out and be the one to keep the other two in line. As it turned out, it wasn’t a job she needed to be given because from a very early age Elizabeth had adopted the role for herself. Elizabeth and Dee-Dee, despite the age difference seemed to get on, it was just their brother who was always moaning and arguing about something and nothing. Sandra just wished her kids would get along. There was absolutely no doubt that she would be at her wit’s end had it not been for Lizzie stepping up and taking on such responsibility. So, as discussed, come night time, and no doubt huge protests, it was decided that for the time being at least, they would both wear protection to sleep in. To back this up, and prevent any further protests, there would be another threat from mother hanging in the air; if they acted up they would be sent to bed at 6pm with a well-tanned bottom. This would make objecting very difficult because mum wasn’t to be messed with. Once she’d made up her mind it would take an act of God to change it and the kids knew that from past experience. Lizzie was pleased with these provisos and, as she always did told her mother not to worry as she would have it all sorted before bedtime. # Sandra had stowed all their old baby things in the attic so Lizzie took great delight in bringing the stuff down to inspect for possible reuse. Very little of it would fit but she saw it more as inspiration than anything else. She liked the tiny little outfits but knew none of them would fit. However, the thick cotton nappy squares would be immediately pressed into service and the cute plastic pants might be of some use. In her head Lizzie saw just how her younger siblings should, and would, be treated during this ‘anxious’ time for them. With just a little ‘encouragement’ from her, and the blind approval of mum, she saw them as puppies being trained. She saw Dee-Dee as easy to influence but also wanted both to know that everything from getting up and going to bed would be down to her… and that included how they were dressed. She’d already made her worries known to her mother about the possibilities of either Billy or Dee-Dee having daytime accidents but hoped they would be able to go potty as normal. Lizzie chose her words carefully using babyish phrases to subliminally imply that her siblings were really just toddlers having a hard time and that they needed to be helped as much as possible. She expressed her distaste at having to change nappies, whilst secretly making sure that was just what was going to happen. She’d even gone to the extreme of shanghaiing a couple of old thick towels into making suitable larger nappies for Billy, should he not fit into the ones she’d already requisitioned from the attic. Her siblings were going to be her little babies for the foreseeable future and, she convinced herself, it would make the long boring holidays fun and bearable… well… for her at least. Whilst she acted innocent as to the cause of this sudden wetting phenomenon, Lizzie impressed on her mother the fact that between them they needed to maintain a unified front to make sure, whilst they had their ‘problem’, night time protection was a must. Perhaps, she suggested hopefully, a couple of nights in nappies might embarrass them into getting to the toilet on time. However, if it really was the start of some unknown wetting dilemma, well at least they were already protected for the occasion. She insisted that any relenting would be seen as a weakness sending the wrong message to the messy duo. She pretended to be understanding of her sibling’s difficulty, after all, she just wanted them to be spared the worry of lying in a soaked bed at night. “The little brats might object but it is for their own good.” For a fourteen year-old she put up a convincing and ‘caring’ argument and, as her mother was far too busy to get involved, received the nod of approval. A plan was formulating in Elizabeth’s mind as she realised she could exert more control over them both if they wore what she planned all the time, and, as mother would be out working and have very little time to supervise, she decided that’s just what she’d do. However, first she had to get them both in nappies, and not only at night. # Mother supervised the night time and made sure, despite weepy and angry protests, that both her youngest were well protected. Sandra got to nappy Billy, whilst Elizabeth saw to Dee-Dee. One of the pairs of plastic pants still fit little Dee-Dee so she was extra enveloped but Billy’s nappy looked too tight and ill-fitting. It was obvious that the plastic pants were far too small even for his small frame so his mother didn’t even try to use them. He complained and had a little tantrum but his mother pointed out, with very little compassion, that as he’d pissed the bed twice she had no option. All through the process he cried and wailed and tried to be as uncooperative as possible, it didn’t help his case. In the end the nappy she was trying to get him to wear was way too small so had to resort to the towel that Lizzie had adapted earlier. This was a great deal thicker and forced his legs well apart once she’d pinned him in. Although Sandra was annoyed at having to go to these extremes, she couldn’t help but smile at the thick nappy that made her son look younger and more juvenile than normal. The bulky, towelling material was huge and sagged making him look like a destitute little toddler. A sudden memory filled her head as she recollected quite a few years ago putting him in nappies, which Lizzie had worn when she was little but were too large. She’d been a much larger toddler than Billy at that age so her hand-me-down nappies were way too big and like now, engulfed him in too much fabric. She would have laughed out loud if Billy wasn’t squirming in humiliation. However, there was recognition of happier times and a delighted thrill ran through her body recalling when he was that small, dependant little boy. This memory continued as she tucked the soft cotton material under to make the legs a little less baggy and more leak-proof. For the briefest of moments she saw him back as he was at two years old. Strangely, after the infuriating day she’d had, this reminiscence improved her spirit no end and smiled tenderly at her nappy-clad little boy. Billy wasn’t happy; his tears had dried up and his mother had finished with her struggle but to him it all felt heavy and uncomfortable. He knew it was his fault having wet but he hated the fact that his mum and sister were making him wear this bulky mass of material between his legs. He really had no option. He had woken up soaked twice and to prevent further damage to bed and bedding he saw the reasoning behind the nappy, even if he didn’t like it. The scratchy old towel wasn’t what he’d hoped for, but neither was a puddle of pee, so he just had to put up with it. However, what made him stop his moaning was the threat that if he didn’t cease his whining, bedtime would be at 6pm for the rest of the school holiday. That shut him up and once his PJs were pulled up it just looked a little unwieldy but otherwise his shame was hidden. Both kids had another thing to be thankful for because their mother had so many other problems on her mind, they’d escaped without punishment. So, albeit reluctantly, and not wishing to stir up her wrath, they went quietly to bed before she remembered her other threat. Dee-Dee said she felt hot and uncomfortable but her mother kissed her goodnight and whispered she’d better not take it off until morning, and then only if she or Lizzie were there to supervise. Hearing the implied warning to his sister, Billy fidgeted but said nothing as she also kissed him goodnight. It took a while but eventually both were sound asleep, which was when their sister once more did her rounds. # Dee-Dee, with her extra plastic protection was going to be more difficult but didn’t wake up as Lizzie, armed with a torch and her ‘baby wetting’ bottle, pulled back the covers and inserted the tube down the front of her plastic pants. A nice long squeeze and half the bottle was soon being soaked up by the thick material. Her brother was a lot easier to dowse. Billy had wriggled around so much he had no bedding over him at all and even his PJs had slipped down revealing the top of his nappy. A second long squeeze and both the front and back of Billy’s defence was sodden and, because he wasn’t wearing plastic pants leaked onto his sheets. In the morning Lizzie made sure it was mother who was first on the scene to see for herself just how wet they were. Both kids were crying at what they’d discovered, partly out of being confused and secondly in the hope to gain some sympathy and deter their mother from carrying out her threat to paddle them if it happened again. Billy looked the most dejected. Has nappy sagged heavily between his legs and his PJs were doing nothing to hide that fact. At least the plastic protection Dee-Dee wore had done its job and could be seen to be a positive item as her bed was completely dry. It didn’t take much effort to draw the conclusion that they were obviously something needed with the current damp state of affairs. Exasperated at her wet kids, the previous night’s thoughtful and understanding mum was replaced by the irritated and dissatisfied mum. She asked Elizabeth to see to them because, once again, she was in a rush and had no time to attend to what needed to be done. She also demanded that Lizzie made sure after they were washed and well dried, they received a coating of anti-rash cream (she still had some left from when Dee-Dee had needed it as a tot), and that plenty of baby powder was applied before being allowed to put on underwear. “Can’t risk them getting a rash… so… make sure they’re well protected.” She said as she careered around gathering her things. With a pretend look of horror at the very idea Lizzie added in mock disgust that she might just keep them in ‘protection’ all day as it would be so much easier. And to add emphasis to her argument, declared she was damned if she was going to be washing their pissed in clothes every few hours. Sandra looked at her eldest as if to say “Now don’t go making any extra problems” but knew she relied on her to carry out what was necessary. Despite being the parent she wasn’t in a position to argue so rather gratefully left her eldest to do whatever she saw fit. Seeing the sorry and very damp state her brother was in Lizzie suggested that they should get some vinyl pants for him as well as other extra items that might come in handy. Sandra noted that her son’s mattress might be getting too many soakings for it to be healthy and agreed that would be an expense too far. She handed over her credit card and told Lizzie to get what she thought would be best. She trusted her not to break the bank but realised that the kids needed something a little more substantial than the pathetic old and well-used cotton nappies they were wearing. Billy and Dee-Dee didn’t hear this final instruction but had been left in their saturated protection whilst the two women discussed things. Chatting to her stressed mother as she dashed from room to room finally collecting her bag, coat and keys before departure Lizzie was able to gain more concessions from her, quite possibly concessions Sandra didn’t really know she was giving. Mother’s final words as she blew a kiss and exited towards her car were: “Do as Lizzie says, I don’t want to hear of any bad behaviour when I get home this evening. Bye sweethearts and be good for your sister.” With that she was on her way to work and the two dishevelled kids sat at the kitchen table still in their wet nightwear, awkwardly eating a bowl of cereal. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was searching around for more items she thought might come in useful. The bathroom cabinet already contained talcum powder, wipes and other odds and sods, which the fourteen year-old was keen to press into service. She giggled to herself in delight at the plans envisaged for her brother and sister. She hadn’t really thought about why she was doing this, just that she could. She liked the idea of being in control and better still, she loved the prospect of embarrassing them... especially her noisy, and now, pissy little brother. As far as she was concerned, thanks to his wet inspiration, this was going to be the best summer holiday of them all. # Part 2 One thing Liz wasn’t aware - Billy’s sodden nappy was not only down to her sabotage. He had, quite unknowingly, wet himself during the night and, had she checked him first before doing her ‘squeezy’ thing, would have noticed he was more than a little damp already. With the amount of liquid his make-do nappy then had to soak up it was no surprise it leaked all over the place. He’d woken up to a wet bed, a saturated towel-cum-nappy and an itchy crotch. He was angry with himself because he just couldn’t understand why he was doing such a thing. He was uncomfortable, irritable and embarrassed and reached down to feel the dirty, saggy towel between his legs with a great deal of disgust. He blamed his mum, Lizzie and somehow even Dee-Dee for his current predicament and hated the lot of them for making him dress so, so, so… The problem was he irritated with himself because he’d wet yet again and couldn’t deny what happened, therefore, couldn’t really complain about the consequences of his ‘actions’. He knew it wasn’t his fault because he didn’t know he was doing it. Other than that could offer no explanation or come up with a better course of measures than a nappy to prevent worse after-effects… a wet bed was very unpleasant. His anger was more out of frustration than directed at anyone in particular, except, well, it was easier to blame everyone other than himself. Despite the fact that his make-do nappy had, to some degree, prevented a worse soaked bed he wanted rid of the soggy mass as soon as possible. However, his mother insisted she didn’t have time and he should get down to breakfast where he’d be sorted out after they’d all eaten. She watched him get up and sigh at the obviously sopping nappy that hung down between his legs. The bedding was a mess, all damp and creased, whilst an air of urine was beginning to make the room smell less than pleasant. He fought to pull up his jammy bottoms which helped a little but didn’t hide the evidence of a very wet boy. Under his mother’s watchful eye, he slowly made his way down to the kitchen feeling every soggy step, the rough fabric irritating his thighs with even the slightest movement. His mother, gathering up the dirty bedding, was more than a little annoyed that he’d wet again and knew something had better be done soon. She wasn’t happy with her son and he wasn’t happy about his nappy… there was bitterness and resentment building on both sides. His favourite morning cereal wasn’t improving the difficult situation he was now in and wished he was allowed to change himself but mum insisted it had to be supervised by Lizzie, and that really irked him. He was very upset about everything and banged and crashed his bowl, spoon and cup around as he sulkily ate breakfast. The mess and noise he created just added to Lizzie’s firm belief that he should be wearing a nappy permanently… so that’s how he should be treated. This attitude didn’t help the situation; he looked like a petulant little baby sat in a soggy nappy. # Once breakfast was finished Lizzie took Dee-Dee off to be changed. She told a protesting Billy to wait his turn and stop bellyaching, she’d soon be back. He had no option but to do as he was told and sat fidgeting in his scratchy towel, while he desperately needed a pee. Although there were some protests from the baby of the family, Liz stripped Dee-Dee out of her wet stuff, cleaned her up, spread the anti-rash lotion and had her powdered very quickly. The youngest had been surprised at waking up wet and although she didn’t like all the fuss, at least the protection had worked. However, much to Dee-Dee’s disgust and resentment, her pleas for normal knickers were ignored as Lizzie re-pinned her into a clean nappy and fed those old, but useful, plastic pants up to enclose the thick material. Her older sister took a firm hand and used guilt to make her comply with what she was doing. “Look, you’ve wet and I have no intention of cleaning you up again should you have another accident. So, this will act as a reminder and a safeguard… just in case…” She left the thought hanging in the air. Dee-Dee’s protests were in vain as Liz pointed out that she had a choice, either she put up with it under her dress, or walk around wearing only a nappy for the rest of the day. And, as Lizzie planned on going into town shopping, she’d have to toddle around as she was and everyone would see her protection. It was her choice. Dee-Dee’s mood changed a little when Liz also pointed out that her brother would be given the same choice so she wouldn’t be the only one wearing such an item. Six year old she may have been but every bit as bright as her older sister so knew that it would come down to the lesser of two evils. Reluctantly, she agreed with everything her big sister suggested. The girls then spent what seemed to Billy waiting downstairs, an eternity choosing just what else to wear. Dee-Dee was looking for something to cover the entire thing but Lizzie, after letting her search around for some time, eventually pulled a short summer skirt from her wardrobe. She knew exactly how she wanted her ‘baby’ sister to look… and the nappy and plastic pants would be taking centre stage. “You’ll look lovely in this.” Lizzie was enthusiastic about what she’d found. “But, but, it won’t cover anything… I … I…ummm.” She must have known her protest would be in vain as Lizzie was already pulling the skirt up and over her protection. Part of the shiny plastic bulk could just be seen hanging below the hemline, which was precisely how Lizzie had planned it… cute and very juvenile. Nevertheless, and this was what made it reasonably okay for Dee-Dee to wear what had been designated, Lizzie convinced her that when she stood up it was barely visible. The thick rough material also gave the youngster a strange feeling between her legs, whilst the rubbing of the plastic on her thighs sort of tickled a bit. It was more unwieldy than her knickers but not totally unpleasant and after a few minutes getting used to her new underwear, Dee-Dee forgot all about it. Lizzie liked the look and wished she could get Billy into something similar. That sneaky peek of plastic pant was very babyish and her mind lit up with possibilities of them both sucking on baby’s bottles and dummies. To her, plastic pants and nappies always visible would keep them both in check and at the same time look completely adorable. With her two young siblings already looking alike, to her at least it would be wonderful to have them dressed alike. She had a vision of them together playing in their nappies; Billy slightly taller of the two but still enthralled with a childish game his smaller but more confident sister had devised. Setting off the scene to perfection would be the rustle of their glossy plastic pants adding a shiny, cheerful but babyish note to their pleasure. # Meanwhile, in the kitchen, in his desperation to pee, Billy came up with the obvious solution, he’d simply soak his towel that bit more and no one would be any the wiser. Even though his jammy bottoms were already soaked he slipped them off and stood wearing just his flooded protection. The rough material was looking decidedly discoloured and beginning to smell but in Billy’s mind he was just using it as a mop-up cloth, which was what it had been used for in the past. Unfortunately for him, he took the wrong moment to fulfil his biological need so, as he filled his waterlogged nappy to saturation point, the fabric leaked out onto the tiled floor. There was a slight stinging as he peed but, in truth, it was remarkable just how easy it was to go into his towel and feel such relief. Standing in the doorway to observe the incident were his sisters who he had not heard returning to the kitchen. Such an opportune moment was quickly seized on by Lizzie who loudly proclaimed it was a deliberate act of wetting. Conspiring with her witness Dee-Dee, they berated their brother for being nothing more than “a thoughtless little boy”, a “nappy wetter” and when he teared up, nothing but a “big cry baby”. A red flush covered his body but the pee just kept flowing and dribbling down his leg to pool on the tiles. He couldn’t stop. Even with his sister’s watching and their mocking, his burning bladder just kept the stream coming as his body slumped in humiliation and tears fell. In his shame and anger he swore and cursed them but it didn’t help… he was guilty of this terrible act. Perhaps they were right; maybe he was nothing more than a pissy little baby who had no control. When he finished the look on Lizzie’s face told him he was in deep trouble. He had no defence, they’d witnessed what he’d done and he knew he was for the high jump. Lizzie grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs and into the bathroom. Billy stumbled and quickly grabbed the heavy wet nappy as it slipped down his thighs. To be seen naked was the worst so pulled up the thick and sopping item to preserve his modesty. He didn’t know it but modesty was soon to be a thing of the past. Angrily (although really pleased at the wonderful turn of events) she pulled off his soaked make-do nappy and told him emphatically that from now on, as he acted like a little baby, deliberately peeing his pants, then that’s how she intended treating him. A sorrowful “Nooo” and an “It’s not my fault” didn’t help as he tried desperately to stop Lizzie seeing him naked. “You purposely kept me fucking waiting… you wanted me to fucking wet my…” A stream of expletives and angry accusation followed which Lizzie stood and took. She didn’t mind, she’d use it against him later if need be. She knew their mother hated swearing and would take the paddle to his bare bottom if/when she found out. He carried on swearing at his older sister, blaming her for his soggy hanging shame. However, he’d been warned many times by his mother that he should not swear, and certainly never in the house. Lizzie just batted his flailing hands away and let him carry on being his usual self-obsessed centre of attention but taking no notice of his protests. This was typical him… you try to help but he just ends up being difficult. Lizzie let him struggle for a while, part of her wishing he was a girl and then they wouldn’t be having all these problems that raucous boys seemed to carry around with them. She thought all boys Billy’s age were the same annoying little sods. However, now she had him in a nappy, and to a certain extent Dee-Dee as well, she was quite content… her plan was moving on nicely. # Her heart had beat faster when she’d come up with this novel idea, it had gone into overdrive when she’d collected the stuff from the attic. The simple act of handling the old fabric nappy squares and plastic pants had sent more than a shiver through her core. The urge to have them both dressed as babies became more and more powerful the more she caressed those small soft items of childhood. She was only fourteen but there was something that just clicked as she held up one of Dee-Dee’s sweet little baby onesies. Her body flushed with excitement as her mind raced at the thought of what she planned to do with her siblings. As she’d sorted through the old baby clothes, toys and other stuff all she could imagine was them both having to surrender to her instructions. She was growing up fast and all manner of hormones and inspiration were careering through her system. She would be ‘mummy’ and have a couple of real babies to play with, to dress, feed and clean. However, to begin with she hadn’t thought about the work her plan would involve; the constant changing and washing. For her to see them both contained in such a juvenile way, and the way such padding reduced the wearer immediately to a toddling tot, was as far as her vision stretched. With Billy now struggling in her hands as she changed his soaked nappy she grinned knowing that her plan was already working so well. The wet towel was not very nice to have to wear, and this is what made it so much fun, her brother hated it. When a knowing and cunning look appeared on Lizzie’s face he knew he’d overstepped the mark. A sudden gulp of resentment and fear stuck in his throat and he lost the ability to explain or defend himself. Billy was so embarrassed and guilty about what he’d just done, and had been witnessed by both his sisters; all he could do was blub as Lizzie furiously set about getting him cleaned up. She could have left him in his present state but was playing the long game so decided that for the moment, a little ‘understanding’ might be more appreciated. He cried but knew he’d been caught red-handed (or wet-nappied), and had been foul-mouthed, so couldn’t pretend his innocence. # Lizzie was thorough in her ministrations but kept tut-tutting and shaking her head as if she found the situation quite unbelievable. Billy tried to pretend it wasn’t happening by squeezing his eyes tight shut whilst she wiped his genitals. Alas for Billy, his culpability made him less rebellious than he would normally have been so the process became a lot less fraught. She noticed that his groin was very red and explained that all the wetting had given him a nappy rash, which set him off wailing all over again. “Mum said this might happen and I’d have to cover the area with this.” She held up the white ointment that had already been applied to Dee-Dee but, knowing Billy’s embarrassment was only just beginning, took even greater delight in the application process. To have his sister, who was only three years older than him, rubbing in the cream with such vigour was more than a little disconcerting but couldn’t object because he felt so guilty. There was no denying that he’d been itching since he’d woken up and wondered why it felt so uncomfortable sitting at breakfast. Now he knew, he had to suffer the ignominy as she smeared on the antiseptic balm like he was a baby. However, he hadn’t realised just how ‘personal’ that treatment would be when she heavily coated it around his genitals and then made him turn over so she could cover his tender red bottom. His rash actually needed the attention Lizzie was giving it but she was really pleased at the way he wriggled awkwardly as her fingers massaged the greasy stuff into his boy parts. Billy wanted to be indignant about the procedure. He wanted to tell her again to ‘FUCK OFF’ and use a stream of hurtful invective at her but at that moment thought it better to remain tight-lipped. He didn’t even know there was such a cream in the house, or what the rash was, so would never have thought to use it. He hated being treated like a toddler but really would have no idea how to have gone about it on his own. Reluctantly, he had to concede that on this point, his sister knew best. Whilst in that position, and showering his upturned inflamed bum cheeks with powder, she mentioned that if it was up to her his bottom would be red from a damn good paddling (mum had delivered them in the past). As far as Lizzie was concerned… he was a very naughty, foul-mouthed and inconsiderate little boy, purposely wetting himself for some dubious ‘attention seeking’ reason. Lizzie knew that by intentionally making Billy believe he was solely culpable for what was happening, he was in no position to object to her plans and, a little fear made him far more acquiescent. She said she was surprised that mum hadn’t spanked her two naughty ‘babies’ for giving her even more to worry about and that both he and Dee-Dee should think about their over-worked mother more. She laid it on thick how she thought they were doing it on purpose just to annoy mum and give her even more stress. She laid the blame squarely at her thoughtless brother for being the main culprit, accusing him of actually enjoying wetting his bed as she’d just seen him deliberately wet his nappy. Billy had no defence so Lizzie was able to make him feel more guilt-ridden, whilst actually enjoying the fact he had no idea what was going on. However, she had no idea what was really going on in Billy’s bladder. # Billy knew she wasn’t joking and was relieved that he managed to turn back without her carrying out her threat to spank him. His relief didn’t last long as she soon pushed the other thick, adapted old terry towel under his bottom and began to fasten it in place. She deliberately made it double thickness so its huge, cushiony size would prevent Billy from finding any clothes to fit over it. His screams of indignation could have been heard across the street but he had no defence from the strength of his sister as she attempted to pin him in. He tried to pull it off but he got a smack for his pains together with a very severe warning if he continued to mess about worse would follow. She was adamant, for his own protection he was going to be wearing a nappy whether he liked it or not. Lizzie was happy to list the number of times he wet and that she wasn’t taking any chances on her ‘pissy little brother’ leaving a trail of pee wherever he went. So… he had a choice; either stop fighting and wear it, or fight, get a spanking and still have to wear it? He fought as best he could but there was a slight problem, she was far too strong and had become adept at holding him immobile whilst she did what she wanted. In the past that had ranged from tickling, through to just beating him up. She was very strong and knew that he’d have to obey or be hurt. Eventually, both the over-powering sense of guilt and the inevitable fight drained from him. He realised the futility and she took the opportunity to continue his change into the huge, dry, modified towel. “Don’t you dare take it off,” Lizzie screamed at him as she pulled the thick towel up between his legs. “I’ve just watched you piss yourself on purpose and if you think I have nothing better to do than run around changing and washing stuff after you mess up, you’re sadly mistaken.” To emphasise her point she indicated, with a slight tap to his head, the washing line outside that held the billowing results from two days of wet bedding. In Lizzie’s mind this was evidence to anyone with eyes to see that she was looking after her baby brother and sister. If she planned it right, the sheets wouldn’t need so much attention as they’d be both wearing nappies on a night and then, she got excited at the thought, it would be just a row of fluttering nappies proclaiming the return of babies back at the Southall residence. Why this pleased her so much she wasn’t sure… it just did and even the thought of changing wet nappy after wet nappy didn’t appear to deter her from her aim… it was a price worth paying… well for now at least. The warning smack to the back of his head had surprised but not hurt him, although it made him realise defying her was a stupid move. She was at her most determined so any protest would have been useless. So, as the final large pin held him tightly in his make-do nappy he had nowhere to go for support or anyone to defend his position. Also, she had indeed just watched him fill his already bloated protection so couldn’t argue that point, even if the reason was because she’d taken so long with Dee-Dee. However, her final threat was what made him simmer down as best he could. “If you carry on like this I’ll make you wear a nappy when your friends come over.” The look she gave him made him believe she wasn’t kidding. # He didn’t know it but two of his friends themselves were wearing protection having shit the bed on a couple of occasions; their parents taking the necessary precautions to prevent further mess and stinky pants. The two boys, Dave and Mitch, like Billy, had put up a fight but faced with the alternative (shitty pants) had grudgingly acquiesced to their parent’s solution. They, like him, had not linked their canal dip with their problem, but in both cases a thick nappy had been the temporary solution. Meanwhile, his other friend Aaron who had wet himself during the night had been able to hide the evidence from his parents so, for the moment at least, was wearing normal underwear. Although he wasn’t feeling too well, his dick burned when he peed, he tried to maintain his usual adventurous spirit and had gone off with his father walking in the hills. It was a day that wouldn’t end well for him. Billy continued to squirm uneasily in the thick homemade defence but wasn’t trying to remove it merely get comfortable. The cream his sister had spread over his rash had an immediate affect so wasn’t itching as much. So there was an air of inevitability to the procedure as he meekly let his sister finish getting him ready. Leading him by the hand as he waddled to his bedroom they went through the dresser and wardrobe trying to find something for him to wear that covered his protection but, as Lizzie knew only too well, it was far too thick for any of his clothes to fit. However, as she’d told Dee-Dee, they were going shopping in town so he had to find something as she wasn’t going to leave him home alone. Again he started to whine and complain but she simply told him to find something otherwise she’d dress him in some of her old clothes, which she held out for inspection. She really wished she could get him into a skirt like Dee-Dee was wearing but knew that was probably not something he’d do willingly. The flowery skirt and lacy top she held out doubling Billy’s efforts. # A few years earlier Billy had been forced into wearing some of Lizzie’s clothes when she and a group of her friends decided he was to be their dress-up doll for a game they were playing. Poor six year-old Billy didn’t get a chance to complain as grabbing prepubescent girly hands ambushed and easily pulled off his clothes. Distressed and crying for help he had little resistance as he was introduced to the realm of girly dresses and make-up. His juvenile embarrassment only came to an end only when his father arrived home, saw his painted face and told him to get cleaned up. Lizzie received no reprimand from either parent and even at that young age Billy was fostering a great deal of resentment. He was always punished if he did anything wrong and was upset at the injustice when his older sister wasn’t. Lizzie was the apple of her daddy’s eye, very like him in so many ways, and nothing a young shy boy searching for love and acceptance in the family could ever usurp. No mention was made to the fact he was wearing his sisters clothes, right down to her panties, or that he’d protested against being involved or that they’d bullied him into wearing it all. He was a boy and hadn’t wanted anything to do with their little game but it looked like he was the one held responsible even though he was only six at the time. Even with his father around it appeared the girls could do no wrong. For young Billy, life was unfair. Once Dee-Dee was a little older, she became the dress-up doll for their games. However, he never forgave his parents because they hadn’t punished Lizzie believing her side of the story that he’d asked to play with them and, much to his irritation, her friends supported that story. What was worse, they still mentioned the incident whenever they visited. It was in that one act of humiliation that young Billy had decided to rail against the rest of the family. He couldn’t change them but he would make sure they knew of his existence. He argued, got into trouble, fought for his place against the rest of the world as much as a young boy could. However, Lizzie, through sheer oppression, kept her little brother firmly at the bottom of the family pecking order. # Despite his protests Lizzie was adamant that she wasn’t going to leave him at home and that he had to go with them for some urgent shopping. She made him feel responsible by insisting it was because he was pissing the bed that they had to shop in the first place. She was fed up with his stalling so simply gave him one last warning and if he didn’t comply she’d “spank him raw put him in a dress and drag him kicking and screaming around town”. Wearing only a t-shirt and his make-do nappy Billy was panicking as he searched in vain for something, anything to wear. He knew Lizzie wasn’t joking and he’d die a thousand times of humiliation if he was seen by any of his friends wearing girl’s clothes. In the end, all he could find were a pair of thin but baggy white polyester shorts he wore to play footie in. If he pulled them up then the hem of his towel could be seen drooping down his leg hole, and if he pulled them a little way down, the thick, pinned waistband was clearly visible. In the end he settled on a jumper to cover the top part and hoped that his protection wouldn’t be too obvious under his shorts. Under Lizzie’s careful instructions Dee-Dee promised that his ample and very evident protective cushion wasn’t really all that noticeable. Lizzie had gleefully pointed out to her little sister that no one would notice her protection, which was just visible below her skirt, as they would all be looking at Billy. She’d been able to convince her that the protection was necessary… just to be safe, a line she used over and over again. All she had to do was pretend it hardly showed under his shorts and convince him that no one would be any the wiser. Lizzie was pleased with herself at having both of them wearing nappies to go into town… although she wished that Billy’s was more obvious. She didn’t have to worry. Once on the bus and well on their way to town it became evident to Billy that everyone knew he was wearing a nappy because that was all he could feel as he wriggled about in his seat. At one point the white terry material poked down both leg holes at the same time and he only noticed that fact when a small boy pointed it out to his mother. The young boy had apparently just been potty trained as he said rather loudly that he was a big boy now and didn’t need his ‘bah-bahs’ anymore. Giggling and pointing at the offending item it became plain just what his ‘bah-bahs’ were and all eyes looked towards Billy who tried to shrink away as he pulled at his pathetically useless shorts. The entire bus seemed to be smiling at his distress as he writhed in disgrace. Lizzie whispered to her reddening brother. “Don’t worry we’ll get you something to hide all that when we get to the shops.” Dee-Dee was making funny faces back at the outspoken toddler, who was happily giggling at her facial expressions. Meanwhile, his mother seemed embarrassed by her son’s loud declaration and was pointedly looking out of the window trying to avoid making eye contact with any of them. Despite that she had a slight smile in the corners of her mouth at a boy his age unmistakeably still wearing such a huge nappy. Lizzie also had a smile, and though she was attempting to put Billy at ease with his predicament, she was actually very pleased the young boy had noticed. She knew her brother well enough to identify how mortified he’d be feeling right at that moment and couldn’t wait to increase that shame. # Leaving the bus, Billy reluctantly followed his two sisters around. He’d noticed that Dee-Dee was also wearing her protection and wondered why she was wearing such a short skirt that revealed quite a bit of it. However, he then realised Lizzie had supervised her outfit like she’d done his so perhaps, like him, had no say in it. They’d both wet so this was Lizzie’s solution. He grumpily thought about the options he was given; either the pair of revealing shorts he was wearing, or some of Lizzie’s old clothes. He was certain he’d made the right choice. Once in the main shopping area it was busy enough for him not to worry too much about anyone noticing his thick padding but he was still on the lookout in case any of his school mates were around. So intent on spying for his friends he simply followed his sisters into a shop. Relieved to be away from the crowds he realised too late he was in the disposable and accessories aisle in one of the big pharmacies. A shiver ran down his spine when he understood they were there to buy more ‘baby’ items. He’d hoped that his and Dee-Dee’s accidents would be regarded as only temporary and they weren’t in need of extra supplies. He didn’t know about the good job Lizzie had done convincing their mother it was better to be safe than sorry. When the enormity of the situation dawned on him he was in for another surprise, a spurt of pee was just the herald for an absolute flood that suddenly filled his customized terry towel. There had been a brief stabbing pain just before he spurted into his nappy, which shocked him. He didn’t say or do anything as that jolt took control of his body. He didn’t hear a nearby lady asking if he was okay, or the fact that his white shorts now had a yellowing patch down the front. He just stood completely transfixed as he emptied his aching bladder without effort or advanced notice. It was as if his body had gone into automatic and he had no control. It was only the sudden thud to his chest that drew him out of his mesmerised state. Unaware of what was happening Lizzie had chucked a huge package of disposables for him to hold but he’d been so out of it he hadn’t noticed what she was doing. Lizzie, being ill-tempered at the best of times, simply forced the colourful bag into his hands and told him they were now his responsibility. It was only then that she noticed the tut-tutting of the lady and saw her eyes looking at the growing damp patch. “Oh Billy, not again.” She couldn’t believe what her brother was doing and surprised at his complete lack of understanding about the event. It was only a few seconds later it seemed to register on his face and the look of pain, embarrassment and fear gripped his features. He started to snivel. With an audience looking on Lizzie went into ‘Nice Lizzie’ mode and was immediately attentive to her little brother. “Don’t worry little fella.” She said as if talking to a toddler. “I’ll have you cleaned up and changed in seconds.” She was playing to the few people watching on. “Let’s find a place to get you sorted.” Dee-Dee stared in wonder as to what was happening but couldn’t help herself from patting her brother’s padded bottom and letting him know just how wet everything was looking back there. She’d gotten used to her own slippery protection and had been glad the night before for her plastic pants when she woke up soaked again but her bed was dry. She was really grateful they had prevented damp sheets, even if she hadn’t understood why she’d wet in the first place. However, the plastic pants had stopped her soaking everything else, so had been a good addition to her present wetting difficulty. They would have certainly helped Billy had he been wearing any. Lizzie just couldn’t believe Billy had publically wet himself. Apart from that first time a few nights ago when he’d wet the bed himself, she thought she’d been responsible for all his other little accidents but this… well this was nothing to do with her. # She left Dee-Dee and Billy sitting on a chair whilst she very quickly finished her shopping and then, armed with all her purchases, asked the sales assistant where the nearest changing facilities were. Luckily they weren’t very far away so she gathered them and everything up and made her way to the baby changing area. By this time Billy was feeling guilty, stupid and utterly humiliated by the entire event. His nappy had swollen and filled out his shorts, which were also very wet and discoloured. All three clambered into the changing room and locked the door. The look Lizzie gave Billy made him feel like an absolute baby. Without using any baby words she still managed, by her mocking tone alone, to make him feel nothing more than a toddler. Luckily she had bought enough items now to at least make sure he was cleaned up and put into something dry. “You see,” she pointed out, “you didn’t want to wear a nappy and now look… “ She left the insinuation in the air. Billy was on the verge of both another outburst and bursting into even more tears. He wanted to argue and put up a fight but the incident had knocked most of the stuffing out of him and he didn’t have the willpower. Lizzie made him lie out on the changing table, which even though wasn’t designed for someone Billy’s size seemed to fit. She pulled away the sodden shorts and discoloured towel and checked the redness that now surrounded that area. She could instantly tell that he would be getting an even more severe rash if further precautions weren’t taken. With a whole bunch of wet-wipes she cleaned him up and applied copious amounts of anti-rash cream plus loads of talcum powder. She pulled out a couple of soaker pads and inserted them into a freshly unfolded colourful disposable. “I’m not wearing that.” He protested. “And I’m not having you piss all over the shop, the bus or me… so yes… you bloody well are.” He wriggled trying to get away but Lizzie gave him a very powerful slap to his naked thigh and he immediately stopped, finding tears more of a diversion than the fact she was taping him into a very thick disposable. His eyes were bleary from weeping so didn’t notice that she also started to role a pair of thick white plastic pants over it all. “I don’t want to… I don’t wanna… wear … bbbaby pantsss…” Billy struggled with his emotions and inability to do anything about it once Lizzie was in one of her moods. “Maybe not, but we don’t want you leaking all over everyone… and besides…” Lizzie mocked, “you’ll want something to hide your nappy.” With a final yank they were over the bulge and an unhappy Billy sat sobbing. The colourful pattern of the disposable could faintly be made out behind the gloss of his new semi-transparent vinyl pants. “How about you Dee-Dee, do you need a change?” Lizzie asked. Looking at how big her brother’s protection now was… she shook her head. “Okay, let’s go.” “But what about sssome pants?” Billy stammered through his tears. “We don’t have any and you can’t wear the ones you came in as they’re wet and stained.” She shook her head at him. “You’ll just have to make do.” “But, but…” Billy tried to object but it was no use. “Can’t we bbbuy something…?” Lizzie sounded concerned and convincing when she said they had no money for anything else and that unfortunately there was no alternative so he’d just have to put up with it, at least the nappy was now hidden. She pulled him to his feet and even Dee-Dee gulped at just how big his padding now appeared. The white shiny plastic appeared to glow as it strained around the bulk. There was a loud rustling sound as he moved because he was having difficulty walking. He really was in a very awkward situation and Dee-Dee wriggled, thankful that her protection wasn’t nearly as obvious. She involuntarily reached beneath her dress, smoothed her own nappy down and sighed in relief. Billy didn’t detect his little sister’s gasp of concern as he was being instructed by Lizzie that, as there was nothing they could do about it, and, so as not to draw attention to the problem, he should carry the large pack of disposables in front of him and they would walk behind. It wasn’t the best solution but it would give him some privacy. Tears flooded down his cheeks as she opened the changing room door and led her charges out and back into the store. A couple of people who had heard him crying were looking on but once they saw he was physically alright they went about their business. # Lizzie gave him the biggest bag to carry so he could hold it in front of his huge puffy crotch, which was now encased in shiny white vinyl and reflecting the light. It became like a flashing beacon to everyone as he passed. Lizzie was overjoyed at the spectacle of having both her charges wearing obvious plastic pants which barely disguised the nappy underneath. This was her plan and it had all come together at remarkable speed. Dee-Dee’s glossy baby pants would flash occasionally as she walked or gave a childish hop, whilst Billy, with a certain glistening rustle, strode disconsolately and awkwardly ahead of them both. Sniggers and comments were hardly muted as Lizzie guided her grumpy brother and sister towards the bus stop. “Can’t we get a taxi? Please let us get a taxi…” He pleaded with his big sister but she just shook her head and told him they weren’t made of money. A miserable and nervous Billy was the centre of attention for everyone, not just those passengers on the bus. His shame was complete when, with still a couple of bus stops left before home, and after a brief but severe stabbing pain in his gut (more excitable microbes were now happily playing in his bowel), he filled his disposable with more than pee. Elizabeth noticed his sudden change of attitude as he sat there with the huge package of disposables on his lap. His constant complaining stopped; his face went a bright red and his eyes misted over as silent tears ran down his cheeks. An unpleasant sneer, as if he’d witnessed some diabolical event, slid over his face before he cast his eyes down to the floor, ashamed of what he’d detected. Thankfully for Billy, the huge protection he was wearing absorbed all he’d discharged and the plastic pants, tightly hugging everything together, prevented any embarrassing smell or leakage. Lizzie didn’t know precisely what had happened but knew something had. The way he was grasping the huge package of colourful disposables so tightly against his protection, meant something drastic and critical had taken place. However, completely out of character, she sympathetically put her arm around her little brother. It wasn’t that she particularly felt sorry for Billy, but instinctively knew that if she came across as caring, she’d be able to manipulate him a lot more easily when needed. She squeezed her brother and whispered that he shouldn’t worry because accidents happen, they’d be home soon and she was there to help. The walk from the bus stop back to the house was slow and disgusting for Billy as he tentatively waddled, aware of the lumpy wet stinking mess filling the rear of his protection. Although, he’d hated being made to wear all the thick padding, he was grateful that he’d not leaked in public. It wasn’t Lizzie’s fault he’d pissed and now crapped himself and for once she wasn’t ridiculing or shouting at him. His misery compounded he really was reliant on Lizzie to help him through this. He had no idea why he now shit his pants but that stabbing pain must have been some indication that something was wrong. In spite of this he never thought about his swim in the canal and simply surmised it had probably been something he’d eaten. It was as if, for the first time in his life, Lizzie actually understood he was in need of a few nice words to lift him from the pit of despair he was in. Despite himself, he was happy that his big sister was looking after him. Dee-Dee slowly became aware of what her brother had done and cheekily slapped his bulging, squelchy bottom as a joke. Billy wasn’t in any mood for such ‘playful’ antics and complained bitterly to Lizzie that it wasn’t fair. He was now sounding like a whiny little toddler and she couldn’t have been happier. She hugged him close and told him not to worry it would be fine; all the time thinking her plan couldn’t be going any better. # Part 3 Once home Lizzie’s first job was to get Billy cleaned up. He felt totally dejected, the bad start to the day, having to wear padding, had gotten worse and the only saving grace had, ridiculous to say, ended up being his thick, glossy disposable. Billy was eleven years old and hated being made into this vulnerable little kid. The fact that his nakedness was ignored as he was stripped out of his wet clothes and treated like, well, like he had no say in anything anymore infuriated him, but was powerless against the female forces he was up against. His small stature and slim physique made it so, no matter how hard he fought (and he did), he was really no challenger to Lizzie’s complete and utter dominance. From being a toddler to now, he was very much the plaything of his older sister so she had the final say in everything. Most times his sheer nuisance value and belligerent stance meant he was avoided but now she had him in her sights, he didn’t stand a chance. He’d hated being made to wear a nappy to go into town, it seemed excessive and an attempt by Lizzie to humiliate him. Just because he’d wet a couple of times didn’t give her that right… well Billy thought not, even though she had very easily manipulated him into one. He hated his sister. He’d hated everything she’d done. He hated his mum for allowing her to bully him but, and this is what narked him, as it turned out, she was right and that took Billy to a strange place where he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Doubts about all manner of things were lying just beneath the surface and that made him very uncomfortable. He could only guess how much worse it would have been to fill his pants so unexpectedly in public wearing just his usual briefs and shorts? Begrudgingly he felt grateful for all the protection Lizzie had pinned him into. He didn’t like this feeling of gratitude; it messed up all other thoughts. # Lizzie had no idea why Billy had crapped himself and wondered what he might have eaten to cause such a terrible result. She worried in case they’d all eaten the same thing and this was what the future held for all of them. Oddly enough, when she’d planned making Billy and Dee-Dee her babies Lizzie hadn’t thought through that it might include something as dire as changing a shitty nappy. Of course, it wasn’t the first time she’d done such a thing. On many occasions, when Dee-Dee was a baby she’d happily change her and loved being allowed to dress her up afterwards. In fact, as she thought about it, even then she used to wrap her little sister in thick padding before adding plastic pants, a colourful onesie or cute little dress. It had been fun making her baby sister look pretty and when she’d tried it with Billy a few times, being an annoying boy; he ran off or created a scene. However, when able to subdue him with the help of friends she thought how lovely he looked with his big frightened eyes setting off the pretty dress she’d put him in. Meanwhile, Billy’s stomach continued to grumble and wasn’t sure the worst was yet over. The look of total defeat was etched across his face… and in his stained nappy. So, now there were other consequences it was Lizzie who had to suck it up and deal with it. Nonetheless, at that moment she loved the humiliation it caused to her whiny little brother. The fact that he had no idea what to do about his full nappy merely emphasised what a baby he was. The tears had been real, his utter embarrassment was real but he obviously needed an adult to sort his problem out. Being quite a clever girl she realised that if she could get through this messy part of the operation it would give her more control over what her brother could do. She had to take away all his independence and manipulate him into doing exactly what she decided. She took a deep breath and slid down those new large slippery vinyl pants… # Under normal circumstances Billy would have been creating and making life difficult. Even in such dire circumstances his hackles would have been up and he’d be as obnoxious and obstructive as possible. But that was under normal circumstances, at the moment he was feeling decidedly weak and ill, was wearing a ballooning, shitty disposable and desperately needed some care and attention. Strange as it may sound he was getting it from his despicable, overbearing and annoying sister. Billy had dumped quite a number. So it had been fortunate that Lizzie had gone ahead and padded him so well at the store, tucked in the fabric and made sure the elastic in the vinyl pants was tight around his legs. Otherwise a trail of brown liquid would have followed them all the way from the bus stop. He didn’t know it at that moment but he really had to thank the hated shiny white plastic pants for presenting a leak-proof seal, which was able to contain the worst of what his body could no longer hold back. Thus the rustling of his plastic pants as she removed them was more of a plus than a minus; they’d done their job well. On top of that the delicate way they slid down his legs sent a shiver through his body causing another spasm and a jet of pee to shoot into the saturated material. One positive thing Lizzie noticed, Billy wasn’t putting up a fight. He lay there quite still as she removed the filthy item and then proceeded to wipe him clean as best she could. His embarrassment at being naked was obvious but a gentle pat of his hand away from his penis was all that was needed for Lizzie to get to work properly. He looked both self-conscious and on the verge of even more tears but at least he wasn’t complaining, this was unusual for Billy. He mentioned that his stomach was still bubbling and feared the worse so, once the initial clean-up was over, naked apart from a t-shirt, he made his way to the toilet and sat waiting for whatever was to come next. He didn’t have to wait long before the next stream of watery brown fluid gushed from his bum-hole. Those nasty little bugs were having a field day in his gut but this time the toilet was the recipient, Billy thought he was very lucky to be in the right place on that occasion. Whilst Billy evacuated all that was left inside Lizzie set about getting his room ready. The bed was already stripped and aired out so it was easy to fit a plastic under-sheet she’d found earlier in the attic, before adding the rest of the bedding. She’d discussed this preventative measure with her mother earlier when it had been decided to protect the mattress from further damage. Always cunning and planning she had seen this development of adding a plastic sheet as a reminder of his wetting status and further proof he was nothing but a pissy baby around whom precautions were necessary. Of course she hadn’t said this to her mother, merely suggesting it as a way to lessen any damage to his bed. Sandra had thought it a good idea and a fairly easy first line of defence, she gladly given her consent. Lizzie made up Billy’s bed and placed the bag of disposable on his dresser complete with the batch of new larger cotton nappy squares and soaker pads. A bunch of equally bold nappy pins were all clustered together in a colourful array. Her brother may have thought his situation was only temporary but she wanted to emphasise just what a little baby he was. Having all this stuff spread out, taking over his schoolboy space and turning it into a room for a tot was sending a strong message even if he wasn’t aware of it yet. Then she spread various powders, creams and lotions, as well as the big pink container of wipes in a sort of arc around the nappies. Finally, she opened a pack of 2-4-1 vinyl pants but was surprised to find they were pink. The image on the front of the pack gave no idea of the colour inside; she just thought they’d be another opaque white. The colour delighted her but decided that, for the moment, she wanted to keep them as a surprise for Billy so slyly hid them under the bag of disposables. # Eventually he was empty and felt marginally better if a bit hot, achy and flustered. After a shower he returned to find Lizzie waiting armed with yet more padding, this time they weren’t disposable but fabric. Naked, apart from a small towel he was using to dry himself (which on seeing Lizzie he held tightly over his penis for modesty’s sake), he was stunned to see his room so transformed and for a brief second anger was his main reaction. However, before it took hold, he was taken by the arm and led to a nappy already set out on the floor. Without so much as a word of permission she pulled the towel away and indicated he should sit on the prepared material. Again anger was bubbling away but she didn’t give it a chance to brew. “At the moment you’re a shitting machine so we need to get you well protected…” She pushed him down onto the pile of fabric. “…and before you start bellyaching… it’s for your own good… you need to be safe.” This was the forceful and unsympathetic Lizzie. The determined look in her eye showed she meant business and after the messy day he’d had wasn’t up for a fight. It was strange that Billy associated the fabric nappies as being very childish but the disposables as more grown up, so he was unprepared to find himself being swaddled in proper thick (babyish) terry cotton cloth (with a couple of soaker pads added) and pinned firmly in place before a large pair of white vinyl pants were fitted over it all. Lizzie loved to see the thick cushion the nappy produced and the fact that once applied, any indication as to the sex of the recipient, was completely obliterated. The huge padding at his crotch taking away the very thing that made him a boy, now he was just a sexless toddler. She wished she could really dress him up as she saw fit but, for the time being at least, the glossy outline of his bulky nappy was enough to make her smile. Billy wanted to object, saying this wasn’t right for a boy his age, but after what had occurred thought it might be for the best. Besides he was too drained to fight her and certainly didn’t want to find himself with a great pile of do-dos in his pants. The shame and humiliation he was feeling had cut down his animosity towards his sisters. Why this had happened to him he wasn’t sure but needed Lizzie’s help now to make sense of, or at least clean up, his messy trouble. “Please don’t tell mum about any of this…” He begged as he took in all the baby paraphernalia Lizzie had so recently used and now surrounded him. “She, she doesn’t need to know about my accident” The look of panic on his face was real and Lizzie knew she had him. “You’re in a bad way baby brother,” she said in a cross between a condescending and understanding tone, “so I don’t want to hear you object with the precautions I’m taking.” He looked down at his thick padding and shiny plastic pants and sighed in exasperation but knew he had no choice. He reluctantly nodded his head. # He needed to keep in Lizzie’s good books so that was one of the reasons he wasn’t kicking up a fuss. He thought if his mother knew he was shitting as well as pissing in his nappy she’d go ballistic and he’d have the sorest tanned butt in the country after she’d finished with him. Lizzie tried to placate her worried brother by coming up with an idea, and that was, letting him take credit for his current outfit. “Don’t worry; mum isn’t going to go mad over an accident, especially as you were already wearing protection. Let’s just say it was your idea.” She paused to see if her suggestion had sunk in. “We’ll say that after all your little accidents you wanted something to keep you safe.” She was warming to her subject. “All this,” she pointed to his huge protection, “is your idea. You just wanted… no…. you want to be on the safe side.” She looked pleased with herself for coming up with what was obviously a wonderful plan. “If mum asks we’ll say you insisted on wearing thick protection because you were worried you might yet have another accident.” She looked at her brother with an encouraging smile. “I bet she’d be proud that you had such, erm, forethought. She’ll be delighted.” Billy didn’t like this at all. He couldn’t see mum being proud about shitting himself but was really quite exhausted from everything and couldn’t think of any argument against the proposal. Strangely, Lizzie was being nice. After all, had it not been for what she’d done he would’ve been far more embarrassed… messier… and humiliated in public. He did feel completely washed out by the events of the past few hours; the shame, the tears, the pissing at the shop, whilst the sudden burst of diarrhoea had simply sapped his strength. The rumble and ache in his belly continued and there was a slight burning sensation in his willy but fatigue swamped him and he just wanted to rest. Whatever argument he came up with to counter Lizzie’s suggestion she was able to shoot down fairly easily. Logic wasn’t Billy’s strength and she made it sound like his mother would be more pleased than mad at what had transpired. He wasn’t convinced but too shattered to keep up any form of objection. He’d grimaced all through the nappy procedure. The creams, the powder, the total disregard for his privacy, whilst he had physically shaken when she pulled the infantile material up between his legs and used large pink pins to hold it in place. Also the fact it wasn’t right for an eleven year-old to be dressed in such a way briefly ran through his mind, but, at the same time, he knew he needed it with the current state of his gurgling stomach. “To be on the safe side.” Were Lizzie’s calming words all the way through the process. Eventually, Lizzie managed to persuade him to take a nap and, though it was an anathema for a boy his age to be taking afternoon naps, after what he’d been through it seemed quite a good proposal. After all, he was feeling pretty drained, a bit achy and hoped that a little sleep would put him right. His big, controlling sister guided him to bed and, as he yawned, convinced him that he’d feel better after forty winks. The nappy was an awkward thick bulge between his legs he’d just have to put up with it. The resentment that had been there at the beginning of the day was forgotten and though he didn’t like it could see it might be necessary. What was strange to Billy, this didn’t seem like Lizzie was doing it to embarrass him. It appeared she was just thinking of his ‘security’ and the desire not to see him mess anymore. So, no matter how much he’d like to have defied her he was in no position for that to happen. He didn’t know if or when his body would betray him next. “Best be on the safe side” had been her mantra as she made his nappy thick and plastic pants impregnable. All he wore was his chunky protection so Lizzie was overjoyed to see him waddle to his bed, rustling as he went, and flop down on his front; the huge plastic dome of his well-padded bottom shining in the afternoon light. Meanwhile, as she looked on, the slight crackle of the plastic sheet and the rustle of his vinyl pants as he settled down brought a wider smile to her face and a wicked thought to her brain. “The baby has landed.” She drew the blinds to darken the room and quietly slipped one of Dee-Dees teddy bears in next to him. “Just in case you need a fwend to hug,” she whispered as if he was a toddler. She loved the scene and was determined that was how her baby brother should always be regarded. After the experiences Billy had he was more tired than he would have admitted and after only a few moments, drifted off. # In the interim, Lizzie was checking on Dee-Dee. She was still dry, which wasn’t a surprise really, but quite animated at the way her brother had been so easily coerced by her big sister. She’d been astonished at the shop by just how easily Billy had been manipulated into wearing such a thick disposable, with extra padding and plastic pants. It was true he’d wet but she thought he’d put up more of a struggle or run off. However, the shame must have meant that any hostility he may have had was no longer there and he’d just do whatever Lizzie told him. This was very unlike Billy but so like Lizzie; she loved to be in charge, get her own way and keep her stubborn little brother firmly in his place. Dee-Dee had been so mesmerized by what Billy was doing… and then wearing, she’d forgotten all about her own protection. She still blamed Billy for ‘infecting’ her and making her wake up wet, but she knew she shouldn’t be having such accidents at her age. She’d been lucky that, unlike her brother who had publicly wet himself, she had no such problems. However, she was quite fearful, after seeing Billy do what he did, it might happen to her next. Strangely, having gotten used to it, she didn’t mind the padding and besides (as she unintentionally stroked the plastic material), perhaps the protection her clever, older sister had insisted on hadn’t been a bad idea. She really would have been mortified had she wet in public. Dee-Dee also liked the fact that Billy’s nappy and noisy plastic pants were far more noticeable than her own. She didn’t want to be that well-padded but realised, with all he’d been through; he probably needed such a copious amount of wadding. His complete and utter humiliation of wearing nothing but his nappy and pants as he walked through the shopping centre had her and co-conspirator Lizzie giggling behind their snivelling brother. It hadn’t gone un-noticed that Billy had gotten very weepy, more malleable and juvenile in his mannerisms. He was crying an awful lot, a wet nappy really reining in his usual bluster, and seemed unable to do anything for himself so needed mummy’s or Lizzie’s help to cope. Like her sister she was of the opinion her brother was nothing but a big baby. # It was strange that the female perception of Billy was as a noisy, annoying, self-obsessed boy destined to be a pain to all who met him. Whilst his opinion of himself was that he was trying to be heard and noticed over the inaccessible tribal instincts of the females in the family. Lizzie had made a discovery; keeping both kids as babies was going to be incredibly hard work. She needed help, and although she knew she could rely on a couple of her friends offering to lend a hand, the thought of making Billy subservient to his little sister would be far more enjoyable. So, whilst Billy dozed in one room Lizzie was sounding out her sister to see if she fancied in on the game. She didn’t tell her too much, just hinting that her brother might need extra help in the days to come and would she be up for ‘helping’ out. Not wanting to raise her little sister’s suspicions she told her that, despite what mum said, if she could go the night without wetting, she would be taken out of her protection and given back her knickers… but ONLY, Lizzie stressed, if she went the entire night without an accident. Of course this was easy to organise, her squeezy bottle would be kept entirely for the Billy’s use and Dee-Dee would be none the wiser. Meanwhile, still wearing her thick protection, Lizzie told her to go and play outside in the sun whilst her brother slept. She enjoyed seeing her little sister in her thick nappy and plastic pants and, it didn’t look wrong on her small frame. In fact, it wouldn’t look wrong if both her siblings were wearing the same infantile outfit. For a brief second Lizzie saw both Billy and Dee-Dee wearing exactly the same babyish items and playing together in the sunny backyard. A docile Billy happily playing with dolls or enjoying a stuffed toy tea party, supervised by his little sister; both their thick padding and shiny, glossy protection, glinting in the balmy afternoon sunlight. Lizzie chuckled to herself. As she set up a few toys in the garden, Dee-Dee, unaware of her sister’s involvement in her morning accidents, noticed for the first time just how much more work the two of them wetting the bed caused. The washing line was full of sheets, blankets, PJs and a host of other things that flapped wildly in the afternoon breeze. No wonder both mum and Lizzie were adamant they should both wear protection to cut down on the amount of laundry. For the first time she felt guilty about making so much extra work and thankful for her plastic security. Once her little sister was gone Lizzie crept back into Billy’s room and squirted more liquid into her sleeping brother’s nappy. She wanted him to wake up soaked and in need of even thicker protection. Had she checked she would have realised he was already pretty soaked, this extra dousing adding to the bulk of his nappy. Billy slept on oblivious to all that was happening in his plastic enclosure. Those naughty little bugs causing him to seep continually, changing the white fabric a pale but very definite orange colour. # “Wake up Billy, time for tea.” Billy struggled awake on hearing the words and felt fingers probing his legs. He didn’t immediately remember why he was in bed and didn’t realise it was his mother who was checking his padding. Of course he was soaked. Because he was still confused about being in bed, wearing such bulky protection and be sopping wet he was immediately on guard. He was sure his mother would go mental and start beating his butt with a vengeance. As it was she seemed to be understanding and quite calm. He didn’t comprehend why she was behaving in such a manner. There was both confusion and fear etched on Billy’s face as his mother finally withdrew her fingers from the leg of his protection. “Soaked.” Billy dreaded what would happen next. Sandra saw the anxious and nervous expression he gave her. “Oh sweetie, Lizzie’s told me all about your accident.” He looked at her horrified. She had been surprised to learn from Lizzie about what had happened and further surprised to discover her son sleeping wearing such a thick nappy, which, according to her, had been his idea. He’d slept deeply all afternoon so was still not fully awake as Sandra inspected his nappy. His ballooning plastic pants and sluggish movement gave him a very juvenile look and she felt some sympathy for the torrid time he’d so recently endured. However, tired from work as she was, there was no escaping that, at that moment he looked like a little boy in need of love and protection. After all, he’d had a nasty accident in public so, perhaps him wetting, was down to something more than being naughty or too lazy to get to the bathroom. Dressed as he was it was easy to see him as a needy little kid and not the annoying eleven year-old who normally slept in that bed. She couldn’t be too angry with her son who was suffering from a nasty stomach bug that had rendered him so indisposed. “She said you’d insisted in the shop, because you didn’t feel well, you might need extra protection…” The panic of having such a dramatic incident in the shop and on the bus came flooding back and an involuntary, nervous burst of burning pee shot into the front of the already saturated material. He couldn’t understand why his mum was being so sympathetic. Whatever Lizzie said had taken the sting out of his mother’s reaction. He wasn’t happy with the way this account was going, he didn’t want to take credit for the way he was dressed, but his mother continued talking and she seemed satisfied with Lizzie’s explanation. “…so well done you for thinking ahead.” Praise, from his mother, well that was something new. He was normally at loggerheads with the women in his life and here was his mother, being nice and supportive, even though he’d so recently filled his pants… he was confused. Lizzie must have told her a pack of lies for her to be so tolerant but, whatever was said, it looked at least like he wasn’t going to get a spanking. Well, he hoped not. # Sandra had arrived home tired and frustrated; it had been that kind of day when business was taking its time. She had negotiated and charmed her way through an important meeting but still no one had signed on the dotted line. It looked like the discussions were going to carry on the next day. So, she was pleased that Lizzie had sorted everything out, even with Billy having such a dramatic accident… owing to “food poisoning, or something” her daughter had surmised. Sandra was thrilled that everyone wasn’t at each other’s throat. Elizabeth seemed to have everything under control (as she knew she would) and even what could have been a disaster with Billy’s accident, was averted thanks to her children thinking for once. She was very pleased with her kids, even if frustrated with work. She’d noticed that Dee-Dee was wearing protection (as a precaution seeing as what happened to Billy) and had to admit her youngest looked so damn pretty. Then being confronted with her argumentative son looking so sweet in his massive cushion of protection had been a revelation. She’d come home to a house that wasn’t at war but very much at peace. The kids looked ‘comfy’ (if well protected), so whatever Lizzie had done appeared to be working. This was another thing that Lizzie mentioned to her mother that had got her thinking. She told her that since being put in thick nappies, there’d been less arguments and more cooperation between brother and sisters. Lizzie laid it on thick. Being treated as toddlers and having to wear protection had somehow, changed the way they interacted, and in a good way. Billy wasn’t happy but at least it had stopped him quarrelling as he’d to deal with what he was wearing (and depositing in his nappy) rather than annoying his sisters. This wasn’t necessarily true but Lizzie was keen that Sandra should see the positive side of what she was doing, though decided she didn’t have to know everything that was going on to achieve such results. It lifted a great weight of responsibility off their mother’s shoulders now she felt that Lizzie could cope and the children were all able to help. She was really happy that even argumentative Billy, feeling a bit queasy in the shop, had, according to Lizzie, insisted that ‘to be on the safe side’, he should wear a disposable… and it had paid off. The disaster that could have ensued had Billy not come up with the suggestion would have been too messy to contemplate. Lizzie had speculated to her mother that perhaps Billy, and maybe all of them, had eaten something that had gone off, which might have caused the messy incident. She didn’t mention that Billy had to come home wearing only his protection and no pants. She wanted her mum to think everything was as ‘normal’ as possible and she wasn’t just out to embarrass her brother. Sandra was glad her kids, reacting to their wetting problems, realised protection was a good thing to have. Certainly in the short term (and she desperately hoped that’s what it would be), the little money spent on a few preventative measures was already paying off. Lizzie had not squandered a fortune but what she had bought was so obviously working. Lizzie confidently let mum know that she was happy to keep taking full responsibility for her siblings. # Meanwhile, mum was still trying to cajole Billy to come down for tea. “So, do you feel up to joining us for tea? Lizzie said that you’ve been feeling exhausted after your disaster… She patted his padded bottom. “No doubt something you’d eaten… but hopefully all that’s passed now.” She smiled and held out her hand to guide him from his crinkly pit. Billy looked at his expanded protection and shook his head. “Mum, I can’t walk around like this… um… I need something to cover…” “Don’t be silly. There’s only me and your sisters so no one is going to see.” Billy had visions of the bus full of people who’d already seen his shame but, as his mum was in a good mood didn’t want to upset her. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You do seem to be running a bit of a temperature… we’ll see how it goes before we do anything else. Are you coming?” Awkwardly he swung his feet from the crinkly bed and got up. The weight of his soaked nappy felt really weird but thankfully the plastic pants kept everything tightly encased. Wearing just his super-soaked and bulging padding he ambled down after his mum and sat at the table with his sisters who were both beaming at him. He eyed them warily. # Whatever Lizzie said had certainly got mom on-side so didn’t want to spoil things by complaining about what he had to sit in. He squished into his seat and the girls smiled at the soft rustling of his huge plastic pants. He was nowhere near comfortable but ate his meal with barely a word, whilst Lizzie explained to their mother about the venture to the shops and what she’d ended up buying. She explained the store had been having an ‘end of season’ sale where special offers included disposables and fabric nappies in a joint deal. Lizzie had been proud that she’d been able to get a huge amount of fabric squares at a greatly reduced price. She admitted to being disappointed that vinyl pants hadn’t only been a 2-4-1 offer on some special packs. With the soaker pads, extra talc and anti-rash creams she’d also purchased the bill was really quite reasonable, which pleased Sandra. What Lizzie didn’t mention was that, like her father, she’d indulged in a bit of criminality, so during the confusion with Billy’s accident, she’d managed to shoplift a few extra items. A few extra pairs of rubber pants, extra fabric squares and other bits and bobs had remained hidden at the bottom of her large shopping bag as she tried to rush her purchases through the checkout so as to attend to her messy brother. The young lady cashier was full of sympathy for the young girl with two young kids in tow who, looking at their thick protection, were possibly ‘special needs’ children. She thought how awful the parents must have been to give a teenager such responsibility… and now the poor girl had to sort out her brother’s saturated pants. YUK. As far as Lizzie was concerned it had all gone off wonderfully and Billy crapping his nappy on the way home was just the surprising icing on the cake. # Sandra couldn’t help but notice how well behaved her children were at the table. There were no quarrels, no snapping or baiting each other and that hadn’t happened at a meal time for many years. In fact, she couldn’t quite believe how Lizzie seemed to have stopped the inevitable squabbling. She was full of praise for the efforts her eldest had put into both the shopping and looking after her brother. Sandra realised that perhaps them being put back into nappies had been the key. Certainly as she watched her son and youngest silently eat their food, the only thing that had changed since every other meal was that they were both in cushioned protection. Inwardly she thought to herself - If that’s what it takes then so be it. Later, when Billy and Dee-Dee were watching TV, both in very visible inflated plastic pants, she pulled Lizzie to one side and privately had a word. “Well Sweetheart, I don’t know how you’ve done it but… Thank You.” She delivered a heartfelt kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Ohh muuummm.” Lizzie was a bit embarrassed but actually loved the praise she was receiving. “As I said this morning, perhaps a few days in nappies and being treated as babies is just the incentive they need to grow up.” Of course Lizzie didn’t really believe that statement but it seemed the right thing to say. Also, she still had no idea Billy was wetting and shitting himself thanks to some nasty little bugs he’d picked up during his illicit swim. She thought he must have eaten something to cause the diarrhoea and although she’d hated having to change him, it certainly gave her an excuse to make sure he had to wear the thick padding she thought would shame him the most. “Well, if Billy’s accident is anything to go by,” Sandra nodded in affirmation, “you certainly picked the best time to put that theory into practice.” “So, is it OK to carry on? I mean, it appears to be working but I think if they keep wetting perhaps we should take it up a notch?” Lizzie’s mind knew exactly how this would be achieved whereas her mother didn’t comprehend the lengths she’d go to humiliate her brother. “Well let’s hope it doesn’t last much longer… I can’t understand why it should happen now, just at the start of the break…” “Perhaps they’re just over excited?” Lizzie ventured. “Mmmm maybe… but it does seem strange.” There was a slight perplexed look on her face as she stared into space in thought. That was the last thing Lizzie needed, her mother questioning things. She had to think fast. “Well the padding will take care of that” Lizzie said light-heartedly, bringing Sandra back from her ruminations. With everything else that was on her mind Sandra seemed relieved she didn’t have to give it any more thought and gently rubbed her daughter’s arm in thanks. Lizzie had been spinning a series of lies and half-truths to get her way and they appeared to be paying off. She convinced her mother that the ‘united front’ in dealing with the younger members of the family should continue “… seeing as how it was working”. “Yes well… you seem to have it all under control Sweetheart, so I’ll leave it in your capable hands if that’s OK with you?” “No probs mum. You just worry about work and I’ll sort those two out.” She nodded in the direction of the TV room. It was amazing just how alike they were as they lay out watching TV. The same brown hair, the same small, slim bodies and the large gleaming protection, it wasn’t difficult to see them as a couple of incontinent pre-schoolers. Whilst mother and sister chatted, Billy and Dee-Dee had been watching their favourite programme. Unfortunately for Billy, those nasty little microbes were multiplying and being very active in his gut. A sudden pain pierced his stomach. He jumped up with every intention of getting to the toilet and, although he thought he was empty, those feisty bacteria had been taking full advantage of what was on offer. So, without much notice, he once again filled the back of his nappy in a huge wet fart; the lumpy, runny, disgusting discharge impacting dynamically on the already well-soaked fabric. It was so loud that it brought mum and Lizzie in to see what had happened but the look of sheer horror on Billy’s face, standing legs wide apart and shaking told its own. Part 4 “Mummy… Billy’s done a poo.” Dee-Dee’s observations weren’t necessary as no one could be in any doubt as to what had just taken place. “Mummy, my tummy hurts.” Sandra couldn’t believe Billy was actually using those words. He hadn’t called her ‘mummy’ in years but at that moment her scared and messy little boy needed her to make things better. The brat had turned into a forlorn little cherub. For more time than she cared to remember Billy had been an annoying little horror; always arguing, always causing trouble, always being at the centre if anything went wrong - it was always Billy’s fault. But now, with a full nappy and when he looked so childish and fragile, so needy and so pathetic her ‘mummy instincts’ kicked in and all she wanted to do was make him feel safe. Lizzie watched for a brief second before volunteering to sort him out but it was mother who Billy sought to comfort him. He clung to her apologising and crying but not daring to move in case he made things worse. He could feel the mush spreading around his butt cheeks and now his bladder was also empty, the prickly sensation in his willy had stopped to be replaced by a warm soggy glow around his genitals. Thankfully, the plastic pants had done their job in preventing any leaks and containing the stinking mess lodged in the thick damp lagging. It was a good job that Liz had once again been ahead of the game and used stuffers to help absorb the load. Likewise, they were doing what they were designed to do as they swelled under the mass of liquid poor Billy expelled. Sandra saw the absolute dejection on her son’s miserable face and her heart went out to him. She may be inundated with work but at that moment her little boy needed her and she was there to help. It had been a very long time since he’d sought any kind of comfort from her. In fact, he had gone out of his way since being very young to prove he didn’t need a mother’s touch. He kept any sensitive stuff well away from everybody and Sandra believed he was totally incapable of showing any emotion, certainly towards the family. This was quite a turn up for the book, had wearing a nappy made him more affectionate? She slowly guided him tearfully up the stairs to the bathroom where she set about cleaning him up and making sure he was well looked after. Lizzie went into Billy’s room and got a few stuffers and a large disposable ready, as well as arranging the various creams and powders she thought were needed. She also left the packet of new plastic pants out for Sandra to use as the other pairs were now in desperate need of a good soak. Lizzie was very attentive and asked her mother if she needed anything else. “See if you can find him one of your old large t-shirts to wear…” “No probs.” # Lizzie was suddenly struck by an idea about one of the things she wore when a little younger and went to dance class, it was a sort of leotard that fastened with press studs under the crotch. She thought this would be ideal for Billy to wear as it would keep his thick protection in place so wouldn’t slip down if he had a fretful night. The fact that it was a very pale pink with the outline in darker pink of a cat licking its paws was, as far as Lizzie was concerned, just a bonus. Lizzie listened as her mother sympathised with Billy’s condition, he was still sobbing and between gulps of air childishly apologising for making a mess. Sandra settled into her motherly role as she cleaned him up and asked him if he thought he needed the toilet any more. He shook his head. Her little boy had never looked so pathetic and didn’t even try to object as she wiped him with a warm wash cloth, rubbed in the rash prevention cream and liberally doused him in powder. Lizzie had set out the soaker pads and disposable ready for use so Sandra slipped the bulk under her distressed son and securely taped him in. “Just to be on the safe side.” She whispered as her son wriggled uncomfortably. Whether he liked it or not Billy didn’t say because he was so worn out and ashamed there was nothing he could have done to prevent what was happening. She pulled open the pack of plastic pants being handed to her by Lizzie and was surprised they were pink. However, without missing a beat, and acting like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, she shuffled them up his hairless legs and over the huge cushion he would be wearing to bed. The grimace as the large crinkly pink plastic pants were tucked into place didn’t materialise into anything further, nor did it when Lizzie arrived with the t-shirt for him. His mother simply slipped it over his head, fed his arms through and pulled it down over the bulky protection. She noticed the press studs and, thinking they were a very good idea, immediately fastened them up. Billy hadn’t noticed the cat on the front but even so wasn’t overly happy about what was happening to him and, with the press-studs snapped together, the onesie held everything tightly in place. However, as his mother had taken charge, he hadn’t been spanked and she was being very compassionate, he didn’t want to cause a change in her temperament by complaining. Pretty soon he was ready so his caring mother led him by the hand to bed and, with the serenade of the rustling plastic sheet and the soft swish of his plastic pants, told him he needed to get some sleep then, hopefully, by the morning, he’d feel a lot better and all this would be behind him. There was no doubt about it he looked like a well-bundled-up big baby. The press studs on Lizzie’s old leotard were stretched by the bulk underneath; whilst the new pink plastic pants could clearly be seen straining over his bulging disposable. After the last few years of almost constant arguing and disobedience from her son, he now looked as she remembered him with huge tearful and soulful eyes - a toddler; safe, secure and compliant. On top of that Sandra thought he looked so damned cute. Recent events had taken their toll on Billy and, although it was relatively early he was exhausted so, as soon as mother kissed him goodnight, he was already nodding. Lizzie’s leotard inexplicably holding everything in and making the entire outfit feel snug and welcoming. Lizzie looked on and couldn’t help thinking that Billy made a sweet baby. Everything about the way he appeared now was just as she’d envisioned except she wanted to make sure he was always wearing a nappy. However, now he was so well protected she doubted her squeezy bottle would be able to do much damage. She didn’t know what was actually going on inside Billy’s body and that really she had no reason to worry. With his temperature rising her brother would be getting even more attention from those aggressive little microbes who’d be doing the work for her. # As mum left his room, his ever loving sister pushed a teddy bear into his arms and, always ready for such an occasion, produced an old dummy for him to suck on. She pushed the rubber teat gently against his lips but even dozing Billy turned his head away. She kept it hovering for a moment and pushed again. Again he turned away as if refusing to take part in Lizzie’s plan. However, on the third attempt his lips parted and she was able to push with slightly more force. It slipped all the way in and she was surprised to see him suckle on it straight away. Billy was not a part of this piece of theatre. His body was so fatigued he had no idea what was going on and though he sucked intently on the dummy, it was without any conscious effort on his part. The transformation from noisy brother to little baby was complete, and in such a short time. Lizzie wasn’t aware of the help his swim in the canal had benefited her plan. All she knew was that, with all this pissing and shitting, this was a fantastic opportunity to keep him in nappies for as long as possible over the holidays. Lizzie smiled at her brother and left the room, returning moments later with the little camera her father had bought her before he was sent to jail; she was sure all Billy’s friends would love to see how he looked now. As Billy slept she took a comprehensive series of images for future use, whilst planning a few other surprises. She liked the idea of having a record of her brother’s demise into babyhood and also, if needed, something she could blackmail him with later. The images of him sucking on his dummy and cuddling the teddy really brought out his complete regression into babyhood and would be a constant reminder of when he was eleven and still shit and pissed in a nappy. Once the final close up shot of his shiny, expanded plastic pants was taken she went to the storage cupboard that housed her old clothes. Sandra rarely threw anything out knowing that old clothes could be re-circulated to her other children. However, though eventually Dee-Dee would benefit from some of Lizzie’s things (even more so now money was in short supply), they weren’t something Billy could make use of, well, not until now. Lizzie had already pressed into service her dance leotard (although she was sure her matching tutu wouldn’t be allowed), there were plenty of other items she thought might just serve a purpose and, if handled correctly, would get the support of her mother. She dug out a few pieces that would have been tight on her but would swamp Billy. Well, not exactly swamp him because, once in his nappy, they would just about fit… in a revealing way. After just a few minutes search she had several items that might fit the bill and then went to speak to her mother about ‘…what to do about Billy’. # He was back at the canal in the exact same place they’d swum earlier. He was standing near the run off from the fields, where the cows and sheep lazily grazed and, despite there being no rain for several weeks, a steady, murky stream bubbled down and into the canal. In the sun it was a wonderful part of the landscape and, unusually, it was very quiet, the occasional ‘moo’ or ‘baa’ breaking the peace. The hordes that normally use the towpath for a bit of leisurely exercise weren’t around. Feeling the need to pee he released his dick from the confines of his underpants. The arc of piss glittered in the sun as it splashed into the water causing little disturbing ripples on the otherwise placid surface. His bladder was full, and the fountain looked so picturesque sparkling both silver and gold he didn’t want to stop. The warmth of the sun was… Billy woke up from his very pleasurable dream suddenly aware he was peeing once again. His hands instinctively dove under the bedclothes to be greeted by the soft silky sensation of his fingers sliding over the slippery vinyl material. Underneath he could feel the bulk of his nappy and the growing glow as his pee spread around inside the confines of his protection. His willy was giving him another, not very pleasant, sensation. There was an ache, a most uncomfortable, unfathomable pain as his bladder emptied. However, once complete, a feeling of relief, both physical and mental, ran through his body, glad he hadn’t soaked the bed. Despite his resentment of the huge padding it had saved him again and he couldn’t help but think that was down to Lizzie and his mum being so considerate for a change. For the first time in as long as he could remember, they were being nice to him and confusingly, he was both indignant and grateful. It was difficult taking the high ground when you’d just wet the bed. It was even harder to do so when you’d just crapped in your nappy. Notwithstanding that slight predicament, it had been better to fill a nappy than crap his pants in public… so on the whole, he was more grateful than angry. He noticed the teddy bear slightly hidden under the covers and wondered how that had gotten there and then another flash of guilt passed through him as he realised he might have been cuddling it all night. However, he put it down to his mum no doubt thinking he needed something to snuggle against in the night. What he didn’t see was the dummy he’d been nursing on for some of the time because that had fallen out and was obscured by a pillow. All this went through his head in seconds as his mother came in to check if he was well, the full nappy told her it was anything but so set about releasing him from the mess and start the morning clean-up campaign. # With another soaked morning nappy Sandra realised there might be something else other than food poisoning going on to cause Billy such symptoms and decided a visit to the doctor was in order. Before she saw to her sad and soaked son she put in a call and was granted an early consultation at the surgery. “Okay Billy, we’re going to get the doctor to check you out… let’s hope it’s nothing more than a bit of food poisoning eh?” She pulled off the damp protection and cleaned him up before reaching for another nappy. “But mum, can’t I wear my normal…” She looked at him as if making a decision. “I don’t want the doctor to see me in a nappy. Please mum can’t I…” He pleaded. “Look Billy, yesterday you were a clever boy thinking you might have an accident and taking the right precautions, which ended up being needed.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “We don’t want another disaster, especially in the car… or in the doctor’s office now do we?” Billy frowned. “You’ve come up with a system that keeps you secure so… it seems silly changing something that works so well.” She showered him in baby powder. “After all, it was your idea wasn’t it?” She didn’t doubt him, merely acknowledged his involvement in the nappy regime. Billy was put on the spot. If he said it was all Lizzie’s idea that he should take credit for it then they’d both be in trouble for lying and perhaps worse, it might lead to him being punished severely for the lie and for crapping his pants. He meekly let his mother get on with changing him and for her to continue to think he was ‘a clever boy’. With her son wrapped safely in his thick protection and being able to arrange an early visit she was at a loss as to what else to cover him with for the journey. As Lizzie had explained, most of his shorts and jeans no longer fit over the huge nappy needed to keep him leak-proof so they would have to improvise. At first, looking concerned but helpful, Lizzie suggested the leotard he’d worn for bed but Sandra didn’t like that idea much. She saw her fed-up son looking gloomy and downcast wearing only a t-shirt and thick shiny pink protection and thought, for his own self-esteem, he needed something to disguise it. Lizzie was way ahead of her mother on this and produced some of her own shorts she’d worn as a kid. They were quite girly, being pinks and other pastel shades and quite loose, though short. “These are loose mum; they should hide the main bulk.” She offered them to her mother as a possible solution who, seeing no alternative slipped the pair of soft pink cotton training shorts up and over the excessive padding. Sandra wondered if Billy would rebel but kept up a sympathetic and encouraging commentary as she did so, telling him that it was either these or he’d have to see the doctor wearing only the nappy… and she knew he wouldn’t want that. The soft cotton of the shorts hardly hid the huge bulge out front. In fact, the waistband scooped down low over his crotch revealing the top of his heavy nappy and plastic pants. Even pulling them up didn’t help because they still couldn’t be hidden and in doing so revealed the elastic of the plastic pants gripping tightly around his thighs. Sandra could sense a possible outburst growing as this went on but, as none of his clothes fit, and with a look that said “Sorry we have no option” she had him reluctantly in them reasonably quickly. He looked most displeased but Lizzie, knowing her mother was in a hurry to get to the doctor’s office, quickly pulled a matching sweatshirt over Billy’s head before he had chance to say anything else. “Don’t worry Billy; this will hide the top of your nappy.” He missed the way she emphasised the word your but now, dressed in little pink shorts and top, he looked like a miserable little pre-schooler. The sweatshirt had a few sequins that glittered in the sun but as Sandra had to get off to work later, she had no time for quarrels or arguments, she’d been lucky to get an early appointment. The look of absolute dejection as she led him grudgingly by the hand to the car had Lizzie watching and giggling silently. His waddle was quite unmistakeable as was the flash of silky pink plastic pant that glistened just below the shorts leg with each step. “Don’t worry Billy, no one will notice,” she lied. “You look fine.” As the car drove off Dee-Dee whispered to her sister that she was glad she’d decided not to wear her sparkly top that morning, she would have hated to clash with her brother. They both roared with laughter. # In fact, Dee-Dee had woken up wet. Lizzie didn’t want her to feel independent too soon so had gently eased the squeezy bottle under sister’s nightie just before retiring for the night herself and doused her night time nappy. She wanted her little sister onside but only under her terms. So, when she woke up soggy, Lizzie had been in to change her and put her in a fresh nappy and a pair of cute ruffled blue plastic pants that still fit her from when she was a toddler. She had found a little blue cotton skirt that just about fitted over the bulge, though still fairly revealing, and then settled on a blue and white Princess Elsa top. To Lizzie she was looking the very image of a toddler. Dee-Dee may have been six but with the fat protection under her skimpy skirt, she looked more like an incontinent two year-old... all of which the youngster was completely unaware having been so easily distracted by what her brother was wearing. Somehow, and so quickly, Lizzie had them both wearing babyish clothing and each had that lovely waddle that identifies them as a nappy wearer. She had looked on as her two siblings started their day dressed so similarly and was pleased with herself. They did look just like a couple of infants ready for a day at kindergarten. # Doctor Marion Harper, surprised to see Billy wearing such a huge nappy under girly clothes, examined him before sending him off with the nurse to take some blood, urine and check various statistics. Whilst he was in another room she talked over his symptoms with Sandra and mentioned that she’d seen a couple of other boys around Billy’s age suffering in a similar fashion and it turned out that they’d been swimming in the canal. Sandra was sure that this was not the case with Billy. She had stressed, over many years, the dangers that lurk in still water. However, the doctor said that the symptoms were identical, and the horrendous diarrhoea and developing fever were caused by a rather nasty bug often found in animal faeces. Nonetheless, Dr Harper was sure that an aggressive course of antibiotics would have it cleared in a few days, although, for the time being at least, a nappy was a very good precaution. “He has to wear some of his sister’s old clothes because he doesn’t fit into any of his own with that nappy in the way.” Sandra said by way of explanation as to why her son was dressed how he was. Dr Harper nodded and filled out a prescription. She’d noticed that the other patients who’d been to see her were also wearing thick protection. Apparently, the bouts of diarrhoea had been extensive and each boy had, like Billy, looked embarrassed to have to wear such obvious thick protection even if it was necessary. Eleven year-old boys may think they know everything and are too grown up to be told what to wear but, when mum or dad lay down the law, they quickly realise, if unenthusiastically, it’s better to do as they are told. The doctor didn’t mention any names so Sandra decided to call some of Billy’s friend’s parents later to see if their boys were in similar messy circumstances. As he returned from the nurse Sandra looked at her son but the sympathy disappeared now she thought he’d disobeyed her. If it turned out to be true, that he had been in the canal, his little bottom would be smarting for a week. However, for the moment at least she wasn’t letting on she knew anything and, once heading back home, told him of the doctor’s opinion. “The doctor thinks you must have drunk something or been somewhere contaminated.” She was offering him a chance to confess, which, although wouldn’t help him would at least show he was contrite about what had happened. “Do you remember going anywhere… where that might have been the case?” She queried. A nervous shiver ran down his spine and a painful spurt of pee was eagerly mopped up by his thirsty protection. However, Billy wasn’t clever enough to know when the game was up so simply said he had no idea. “You’ve not been offered a bottle by anyone, or been swimming… or… anything have you?” She gently enquired. “No mum, erm, um, did the doctor say it can be cured?” He rubbed his aching tummy. “Yes, of course darling,” she smiled sweetly hiding her real intent, “It’s an infection that’s all… I’ll get what’s needed on my way home from work tonight and hopefully… my little sweetheart will be right as rain in a few days and ready to enjoy the holidays… like he should be doing.” Billy smiled back; he hadn’t detected the tone of scepticism in her voice, happy to think that soon he’d be out of nappies and out playing with his mates, in his own clothes, and away from all the girly stuff. He hadn’t enjoyed the nurse drawing blood and taking measurements, or the patronising way she spoke to him, as if he was a two year-old. Nor did he like Dr Harper poking and prodding him down below. In his opinion she wasn’t very gentle and was trying to embarrass him because he wore a nappy. None of which was the case but Billy, being paranoid about most things, was on his guard against any female involvement in his life. However, his body produced a tremor and a painful splash of pee joined the thick folds of the soaker pads in his nappy. # Sandra looked down at the bulging protection hardly hidden by the pink shorts and glittery top and decided that it was a look that she thought suited a little liar… and one Billy might have to get used to. Wearing his sister’s clothes and a nappy certainly made him fit in better around the house and had stopped quite a bit of his natural aggression, though how much this was down to his clothing or illness she wasn’t sure. Thoughts were running around in both their minds, though Billy’s was on the freedom he hoped would soon be his. “Some mates from school want to go exploring and camping and…” “Let’s wait and see,” Sandra interrupted. “We can talk about what’s going to happen during the holiday once we have you…” “Okay,” it was Billy’s turn to interrupt. He didn’t want any of his plans squashed before he’d had chance to discuss them properly. He felt that his mum was a load more sympathetic towards him since these nasty accidents, so maybe, just maybe, she’ll let him do more stuff to compensate? Sandra was keeping her thoughts to herself but, if it turned out he had been swimming in the canal, the boy was going to be spanked and then grounded for the entire length of the summer break. She hated being lied to. She’d put up with it from her husband and look where that had got them? No, no, NO! Action now might just stop him from ending up in jail like his father. She definitely wasn’t going to put up with her son thinking he could lie with impunity and there’d be no repercussions. However, she needed to check first so kept her counsel. “Well love, once I get your prescription hopefully you should soon be on the road to recovery but the doctor said it might take a little while so,” she said gently prodding his bulge of his shorts in a friendly manner. “I’m afraid the nappies stay for the time being. I hope you don’t mind… it’s just to be safe.” His mother seemed very positive and even a bit good-humoured so he saw no reason to make waves and besides, they had come in pretty useful so far. He remembered the pain he felt just seconds before his bottom exploded and realised that without his protection things would have been terrible, again. “No mum…. I want to be safe.” “Good boy. We’ll get you something more… erm… appropriate when this is all over.” “Great.” “How’s your tummy now…” Billy was feeling parched and a bit listless but tried to put on a brave face. “Okay I s’pose, just a little thirsty.” “Oh yes, the doctor said you might be dehydrated and to give you plenty of liquid. I think there’s a bottle of water in my bag if you can reach it.” Billy stretched over into the back seat of the car and saw the bottle on top of her shopping. “It won’t be very cold I’m afraid but should do. In fact, as the doctor said to rehydrate as quickly as possible, can you finish it all?” She smiled at her son as he twisted off the cap and began to down it. Even when he stopped to take a breath Sandra encouraged him to drink it all as quickly as he could. Billy didn’t know why she was rushing him but, as she was in such a good mood, did as instructed. # Sandra dropped her son back at home because she’d to get off to work but had a quick word with Elizabeth before departing. “Keep giving him fluids, soup and water should be fine. Oh, it’s such a nice day for them both to be out in the garden but no visitors, those naughty tummy bugs might be catching and we don’t want that to happen to others?” “Is he contagious then?” Lizzie asked a little concerned. “Oh you’ll be alright, and so will Dee-Dee, you’ve been around him long enough,” she lied. “So no problem for you two just, you know, anyone new. Oh, and keep him well-padded as a precaution… we don’t want any further ‘stinky’ accidents in the house.” Sandra was determined that until she got to the bottom of all this, his bottom would be shrouded in thick absorbent protection. With that she waved her goodbyes and went to work. It had already been quite an interesting day and she planned to finish the deal she was working on at the company and then deal with her deceitful son. Out in the back garden Lizzie had pegged out all the washing as a further reminder to both her siblings of the amount of work they created. She loved the fact that Dee-Dee’s little plastic pants hung next to Billy’s much larger ones. In fact, the two, thick, towel-cum-nappies were also hanging out on the line, which she hoped the neighbours would see fluttering together with the different sized fabric squares and rightly conclude that some of Sandra’s kids were wetting the bed. To make the point she insisted that both of them played outside in the open air. Any neighbour interested would be able to see them both running about in their glossy protection. Billy had been keen to take off his sparkly top and pink shorts but, because of mum’s instructions, Lizzie wouldn’t let him out of his bulging nappy. She had Billy the boy in glossy pink plastic pants, whilst little Dee-Dee was happily playing and showing off her slick blue frilly pair. She loved the sight and wished she could do more. However, she was happy to bide her time and now she knew that Billy’s infection was causing him to pee and shit himself, she was happy to retire her squeezy bottle… for the time being at least. Billy didn’t like to have to wear shiny pink pants but Lizzie was adamant that he needed to keep them on. “But I need to go to the toilet… I… erm… um… need a pee.” “Well I’m not fastening and unfastening the damn thing every time you need to pee or poop so, use it, that’s what it’s there for… and I’ll change you when it’s full.” “But I don’t want to walk around in a wet nappy.” Billy was whining. “Look,” Lizzie confronted him. “You may look like a big baby but you don’t have to sound like one. Mum and the doctor say it’s for your own good to keep you in a protection so… if you need to go… GO IN THAT.” She pointed to his huge silky bulge. He’d dispensed with the pink shorts as soon as he was able, and the other styles that Lizzie had left out weren’t much better, they were all a bit girly. He’d tried to squeeze into some his own jeans and shorts but to no avail, he had to own up that nothing other than his t-shirts fit. He wasn’t too worried, in his current condition he couldn’t go anywhere with any sense of enthusiasm but his mother had promised something better for when he was well, so decided he’d just have to make do. As he stood there wearing only a t-shirt and his cushioned protection he wavered, wanting desperately to argue but thought better of it. “Argue anymore and I will remove it, give you a damn good hiding and you can wander around bare-assed.” She looked sternly at him to see if her words had made an impact. When riled she wasn’t one to hold back as her brother could testify. In the past several students at school had also been on the receiving end of Elizabeth’s quick temper and flailing fists. He knew she could and would do as threatened. She was a tyrant and, as he remembered the last time she beat him up, a shock ran through his body releasing another spurt of painful pee. For the moment just the warning was enough to intimidate him so, when she walked away indicating that the discussion had ended he was relieved she hadn’t followed through. As a result of this confrontation the stream continued so his nappy was busy soaking up an absolute flood. # Lizzie was well aware of the impression she made on people, it was one she had developed and shaped since she was a little girl and fell prey to a larger girl’s vindictive ways. It all came to a head when her daddy told her never to let herself be bullied because ‘Bullies were really just cowards’. She never forgot the look on that girl’s face when she attacked her in class, in front of everyone, and made her cry. The large girl was slapped and her hair pulled until she said she was sorry. The girl was no longer feared but Lizzie was. In that brief but terrifying few seconds Elizabeth Southall of the fourth grade knew what it was liked to feel the power of being feared; it was something that would stay with her from that moment on. By some she was given a wide berth, to others, they liked her vicious streak and gravitated to her domineering way. In truth there were more enemies than friends but that never worried Lizzie. Those who were on her team had stayed with her since that very early display of audacity. # Billy’s bladder had been painfully full so had no option but to empty it into his voracious nappy. The bottle of water he’d drunk earlier soon found itself transformed into a warm, pale yellow fluid that swamped the extra booster pads which, surprisingly for the eleven year-old, left him feeling relatively dry. It actually wasn’t that bad. He’d wet without knowing about it a few times and that had horrified him. When he’d done it out of desperation the day before, he felt relief even if the outcome was awful but now he was meant to do it, well, it was pretty cool. However, there was still a burning sensation when he did so and that wasn’t nice, even if the warm pee flooding the fabric was. The texture of his nappy changed as well. It got bigger and the weight made it more difficult to amble around. Thankfully as he was out of the pink shorts and wore a t-shirt with his protection, in the morning heat… it wasn’t so bad. His waddle had been very obvious but now his movements were more measured. He didn’t rush anywhere now he was no longer desperate to pee, so, wearing only a thin t-shirt and nappy, was able to enjoy the sunshine that filled their back garden. # As it was such a lovely warm day, and as per her mother’s instructions, both Billy and Dee-Dee were ordered to play outside, she hated her kids glued to the TV screen or their ancient games consul. Lizzie told them that, owing to Billy’s ‘problems’, friends would not be allowed for the next few days so they had to entertain themselves. As Billy was always being told to play with one or both his sisters he was used to the games they liked and, as there was no alternative, he set about trying to lead the fun in the garden. Now that his mother had promised that he’d soon be well Billy was feeling pretty good about himself, even if the infection was still sending angry reminders to his bladder and bowel. His large pink glistening pants shone in the summer sun and though he had to slowly shuffle around, he seemed to be dealing with the lack of real clothing pretty well. With Dee-Dee also being bound in thick protection he didn’t feel so awkward, her blue frilly plastic pants also gleamed in the sun so on that score they were equal. They both crouched down and huddled over their toys as they decided what game to play. ‘Princess and her Castle’ didn’t really appeal to Billy and she wasn’t interested in re-running the ‘Grand Prix’ with his racing cars, so they settled on a hybrid version of both. Lizzie watched and smiled as they lay on their tummy’s, the thick, smooth, glassy mounds of their protection indicating that both were still only toddlers and not yet potty trained. Patronisingly, she thought of them as her own little babies out in the ‘big wide world’ for the first time. From the start she’d hoped that once in nappies both of them would be far easier to manage and so far, that’s how it appeared. They were playing together and not arguing, so that was a plus, and they looked like kids at kindergarten scampering around enjoying the freedom just to have fun. Billy played for an hour or so not thinking about his current sartorial situation. His thick wet nappy no longer worried him as he got lost in his game. He even found his annoying little sister to be quite entertaining as they beeped, brummed and screeched his cars around the palace with the ‘Princess’ encouraging each driver. Lizzie was being all grown up and motherly, she kept bringing drinks, checked nappies and offered praise. The two occupied kids didn’t seem to notice that the compliments were what you’d give toddlers who’d just learned to do something. She seemed to approve of the game they were playing and offered a few suggestions to make it more ‘exciting’ and which were actually fun. For the first time in many years they were all getting on incredibly well, even stroppy Billy appeared to be enjoying his new position and at ease in his nappy. This was just the beginning of the school holiday and despite its awkward start he’d settled down remarkably quickly to this new regime… probably because he thought it would all soon be over. # As the afternoon progressed and Billy thought about it more, he was just too comfortable with the easy way his mother and Lizzie had dealt with his problem. In fact, they had been very supportive and, as he still hadn’t linked his canal swim with his current situation, began to wonder if there was a conspiracy going on between them. Suddenly it all made sense. It was if he’d had a sudden revelation and everything became clear. It was the females who were once again scheming to keep him down. The realisation of this fact stirred up real anger. He also bet that woman doctor was involved in some way as well to make him feel that there was actually something wrong when there wasn’t. No wonder they were being nice, they’d reduced him to a nappy-wearing baby. His fury and self-determination grew as he understood that had been the plan all along. To stop him being independent and, and, and, erm, um… he wasn’t sure what or why… but he knew he’d been tricked somehow. “Bastards… the lot of them”. He looked down at his glistening plastic pants and the heavy bulk underneath and was desperate to get rid, even if he had recently pissed in them. He saw the cunning way they had got him to wear such vast protection and he wasn’t going to play along any longer. He thought he was ill but now, well, it was obvious they were behind his accidents all the time. He reasoned that it was they who were giving him stuff to cause all this problems. Because, he concluded, it was a strange coincidence that he should start wetting at the beginning of the school holidays. He didn’t know how or why but his fucking family were out to make a fool of him… and he wasn’t going to put up with it any longer. #### Part 5 Billy’s mind was overflowing with anger at the way he’d been conned into wearing a nappy. It was they who’d spiked his food to make him shit himself; it was they who’d somehow made him wet the bed. None of this was his fault. He would be wary of anything they said or did from now on but the first thing to do was get out of this stupid nappy. He rushed upstairs to his room and, out of sight of Lizzie, yanked off his plastic pants, ripping the vinyl in the process, and dragged down the weighty nappy. The soaker pad was yellow and bloated with pee but he left it on the floor and headed to the bathroom to sponge down. Even though his tummy cramped and his penis burned at times, he was just too angry to care. A quick damp scrub and he headed back to his room, found a pair of briefs and slipped them on. He pulled off his t-shirt and put his favourite football shirt on, then grabbed a pair of jeans and quickly zipped himself in. He immediately felt better. Socks and trainers were next before he stood in front of his mirror and looked back at an eleven year-old boy and not some supersized toddler. His throat was still parched and, as he made his way back to the bathroom, past the discarded ripped vinyl pants and urine soaked nappy to get a glass of water, his confidence grew now such clothing was no longer part of his life. As he quenched his thirst he surveyed the scene and it was with a sense of achievement that this act of independence, which he knew was a long time in coming, had been needed to reaffirm his self-worth. Billy was satisfied that the thick, restrictive padding was where it should be, in a messy pile on the floor and not gripping his groin. He’d let himself be coerced into believing they were necessary but all they did was make him into a big baby. No more would he allow his mum, sister or anyone to make him wear a nappy… they wouldn’t con him again, of that he was sure. His stomach was rumbling in all the excitement but he was glad to be out of his stupid baby clothes. He was a boy on a mission and that was to be as far away from his suffocating family as possible. All he had to do to be free was to stride out the front door and go and see his friends. There was no intention of returning to play with his silly sister or being subjected to Lizzie’s authority. The exhilaration he felt now he was wearing his own clothes, the stuff he liked, and not subject to Lizzie’s or his mother’s views, made him feel strangely elated. A shiver of freedom rippled through his body but, there was another pang in his stomach that he tried to avoid as a brief spurt of hot pee shot into his clean underpants. It was typical of Billy to not yet to piece together what the doctor had said with his current situation… and that situation was his own fault. He had swum in the canal but still the connection of these strange and painful tremors evaded him. He was now full of blame, and that was squarely centred on his ‘scheming’ family. Just as he made for the front door Lizzie caught him and demanded to know what he was doing. “I’ve had enough of all this fucking baby stuff. I’m off out to be with my friends and…” “Don’t you swear at me you little fucker…” Lizzie was in her no messing motherly attitude “Mum says you have to stay here, and the doctor says…” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah… I don’t bloody care.” Foul language poured from Billy’s lips as he continued to complain loudly about being treated as a baby, how it was all their fault and how he wasn’t going to put up with it anymore… he was off to meet up with his mates. Although Lizzie was livid at this act of defiance she was also surprised at how he knew she had something to do with him wetting himself. However, she had other things to worry about at that moment so tried to reason with him saying it was the doctor’s instruction to… Not believing a word of her explanation, Billy stormed out the door and made his way quickly down the path. Now convinced she needed to act, Lizzie was about to give him a crack and drag him back indoors but he turned on her and yelled. “Touch me again and when I’m bigger I’ll beat the fucking crap out of YOU.” The malice in his voice as he delivered this line made Lizzie do a double-take. It was the first time he’d threatened her in such an aggressive way and it took her by surprise. Noticing her hesitation he turned and speeded up his exit. He was right in his opinion, girls ruined everything. They were controlling and had all ganged up on him… he needed to be with his mates. Having had a quick think about his threat, Lizzie dismissed it and was about to haul him back in when he suddenly grabbed his stomach, doubled over and fell to the ground. Less than five seconds later he was violently filling the seat of his jeans with another messy purge. The agony was brief but intense as Billy eliminated a disgusting, smelly concoction of waste from his body. Without the thick protection he’d been wearing the mess went everywhere. He rolled around in his own filth trying to make the pain go away, which it did in a matter of moments but by then the damage was done. Billy lay exhausted in a disgusting soggy mass unable to comprehend what had just happened. His sisters looked on in surprise but didn’t rush to help. Lizzie had no idea why he was crapping his pants the way he was but thought her shitty little brother deserved all he got. Dee-Dee was just shocked. Shocked at the way her brother was oozing stuff through his clothes. Unconsciously, but gratefully, she hugged her own protection hoping the same thing wouldn’t happen to her. However, their mother had told them all to stay at home because of what the doctor had ordered and to keep Billy in protection. He’d defied them, thinking he could do what he liked, so, as far as Lizzie was concerned, had received his comeuppance. Lizzie looked down at the pained expression on Billy’s face. “The doctor says you’re still infected and need to wear protection… what on earth got into you, you, you - STUPID FUCK HEAD?” # Billy was just a weeping messy heap hugging his stomach and not daring to budge. He was afraid that any further movement would cause him to explode in his pants as another searing pain shot along the length of his penis and cramp grabbed at his stinky bottom. Another stream of burning pee burst through his already sodden jeans, whilst a stabbing pain forced him to release yet move foul liquid into the steaming stinky seat of his pants. For those brief spasms he could do nothing to contain anything that wanted out of his body although, once they passed, he wailed in mortified shame for help. Lizzie had a good mind to leave him there but realised she’d been put in charge and this would reflect badly when her mother got home. Reluctantly, she helped her brother up and guided him to the back garden. Billy just wanted to get cleaned up and go to bed, the misery of his situation taking away all his strength and ability to offer resistance. However, Lizzie didn’t want to trail the shitty boy through the house so took him into the back garden where she helped him strip out of his messy garments. His clothes were a foul-smelling disgrace; from underwear to jeans, to shirt, to socks, everything was just a filthy brown soaked mass. Once naked, she hosed him down with freezing cold water, the shock of which sent him into hyperventilation as he struggled to catch his breath. Billy put up a slight, though ignored, protest as Lizzie instructed him to turn around so she could flush all the crap from his body. She asked Dee-Dee who was standing looking stunned at her naked brother (who was shivering under the constant flow of cold water), to go and get a couple of old towels from the pile they kept in reserve for ‘accidents’. “Not the good towels,” Lizzie emphasised. “The old ones we use to mop stuff up with.” This was the same pile she’d fashioned his towel-cum-nappies from which he’d had to wear for his trip into town. She could see her brother shivering but every crevice had to be sluiced out to make sure no crap remained. She decided to hose his clothes down later and leave them to soak overnight in a light bleach solution… but they were in quite an awful state and might not be redeemable. Billy’s teeth were chattering and he was also shivering with trepidation. The fact that he’d removed his protection, shit so violently and messed his clothes was sure to bring down untold wrath from his mother. Dee-Dee returned with a bundle of grainy old rags which Lizzie then used to dry off her still blubbering brother. “Mum’s going to go ballistic.” She shared her thoughts with an already fearful Billy. Billy knew this wasn’t an understatement. If indeed all this had been planned to keep him in a nappy he couldn’t see how it was going to go well when she got home. However, at that moment he was just trying to keep warm as his older sister frenziedly rubbed him dry. Once satisfied he was clean she guided him back up to his room where she deliberately made sure he knew his place. “I don’t want any argument or you’ll get a crack… understand?” Billy was already panicked so didn’t need her to threaten violence, he nodded weakly. She picked up the cast-off, well used nappy and ripped plastic pants and looked at Billy with contempt. “You’re a bloody stupid arsehole,” she shook the rejected items under his nose. “You’ve ruined a new pair of pants and look… look… LOOK,” she was angry, “your nappy’s soaked and you still thought you didn’t need one.” There was more than anger in her voice as she berated him for being a selfish, self-centred big baby who shit and pissed himself and still thought he was a big boy. Her remarks were meant to hit home and hit home they certainly did. Her malicious words scored a bull’s eye… he was left feeling useless and inconsequential. A few minutes earlier he thought he was in control. Now, as Lizzie cleaned him up, he realised that any power he had was expelled from his body along with the crap. He was a very contrite eleven year-old who was about to be returned, with some degree of force and resignation, to a nappy wearing eleven year-old toddler. Lizzie was in a ‘no messing’ mode as she applied a very thick layer of anti-rash cream. She piled it around his genitals and over his bottom, resisting the temptation to give his hide the promised spanking. She knew her mother would probably want first go at that particular target once she knew what had happened. Gathering a huge disposable, she added a couple of heavy soaker pads and fastened him in. Billy had remained passive all the way through the operation; he really was very scared of both his sister and the thought of what his mum would do when she got home. He’d literally and figuratively made a mess of everything. The resentment of being put back into a nappy was not augmented by his usual belligerence just the simple knowledge that there was no alternative and he’d played his hand very badly. He was so shattered and frightened his body shook as he unprotestingly let Lizzie pull the tapes tightly together, the thickness of the padding forcing his legs wide apart. He wanted to accuse her. Blame her and mum for all that was happening to him but, now in the state he was in, it seemed such a stupid allegation. Worried that he may well shit himself again Lizzie pulled up a pair of clear vinyl pants, but not content with only that thin layer of water-proofing, she then covered them with a pair of much thicker rubber ones she’d shop-lifted. These were roomier but gripped much tighter, their dull creamy colour offering no access, or exit, at all. “There… just to be on the safe side… an extra level of protection.” The new, firmer fortification clutched his waist and legs in a vice-like grip. Any thought of protest died on his lips as he was ordered to stay in bed, she didn’t want to bother about him whilst she had to attend to his filthy clothes and keep an eye on Dee-Dee. Thoroughly rebuked, a weak and forlorn looking Billy settled under a thin sheet, the room was warm from the day’s heat and sun was still coming in through the window. Wearing only this ‘extra level of protection’, his clean, thick, secure padding offered some comfort from his recent experience. Although his teeth were still chattering he wasn’t sure if this was from the cold water or his fever had gotten worse. He was just too weak to think properly. Eventually, totally exhausted, he slipped into a deep but troubled sleep. # Sandra Southall had a terrific morning. The negotiations at work had gone very well and resulted in the customer signing a rather lucrative contract for the firm. Not only had she brought in this particular client but by getting him to invest in the future of the company, it guaranteed the workforce’s livelihood for several years to come. Sandra received a huge cash bonus and promotion, all of which meant that the Southall family would no longer be worrying about their finances. That was the good news. Unfortunately, this also meant the workload increased, although now Sandra would at least be getting a reasonable salary for her efforts, it still meant she wasn’t able to give her kids the time and effort needed. However, once those negotiations were complete and everything was signed off, yet before she launched herself with gusto into her new position, she decided it was time to give her attention over to her son - her lying, rule-breaking little boy. For quite a while now Billy had been disruptive. Even before his father had been sent to prison he’d been a little sod to everyone. Sandra was exasperated by his lack of respect to her and his often nasty asides to his younger sister. Although he seemed scared of Elizabeth, he still tried to undermine her at every opportunity and be difficult over every request. It was time to fix that attitude… permanently. She didn’t want to appear vindictive but also didn’t want her son thinking he could do what he liked. As she was more and more convinced Billy was on the wrong trajectory she was determined he was not going to turn out like his father - he had to know there would be consequences for every decision made or action taken. It may be a terrible load to put on an eleven year-old but she’d been letting things slide for ages, now she had to do something. After what the doctor had said about food poisoning not being the cause of his problem she realised that he’d been lying to her. This was nothing new but for some reason it incensed her more on this occasion. She’d hoped that with her being busy and their father in prison her children would somehow have pulled together and helped one and other, in fact the opposite happened. She resented the fact her son showed little or no respect and seemed to delight in making difficulties. He’d never quite grasped that they were in dire straits, or that life would be nicer if they all got along. No, he was a belligerent, narcissistic young man who needed firm discipline before things got totally unmanageable. It seemed that the occasional spanking had made little difference to his attitude. Often, after such an event, he’d be on his best behaviour but all too soon he reverted to form. It had been a short-term solution, and not a very good one, but now her work life had changed for the better, it was time to do the same for her wayward son. She worried she may have left this action too late. However, his illness had made a change. Lizzie said that once he’d been put in nappies there was a remarkable lack of his usual insolence. She’d noticed herself that the usual defiance had subsided and the only thing that had changed was the fact he was now wearing a nappy. Sandra wondered if through those babying items his rehabilitation could start. # A few calls to the parents of his friends and the full picture quickly emerged. Only three boys were suffering from a similar ‘tummy bug’ as Billy and she knew these three to be his closest schoolmates. Having said that, under cross-examination his fellow pupils were content to let it be known it was all Billy’s fault because he was the one whose idea it was to go swimming. She was a bit peeved (although maintained her politeness) that none of the other parents had thought to contact her but, since her husband had been incarcerated, Sandra had been kept at arms-length by almost everyone - sympathy or understanding not being part of this town’s motto. However, she was thankful they were grudgingly able to fill her in but got the sense that because it was ‘Billy’s fault’ their kid was ill; by extension they blamed her as well. Somehow she needed to change this opinion. The bug that the boys caught had made them all very sick and as a result were all laid up in bed at home. The spontaneous ‘accidents’ had been so messy and spectacular that similar precautions were taken, namely, the wearing of thick absorbent protection. So, like Billy, the three boys were wrapped in thick nappies which their parents hoped would at least contain the messy impact of their bacterial infestation. As it turned out, like Sandra, each parent had been fully sympathetic until the truth became known and it seemed that they were all in agreement, now their boy had to wear a nappy for ‘safety’ reasons… that was how they’d stay for a while at least. Although the antibiotics the doctor prescribed would clear up their problem, constant full protection was deemed a suitable chastisement for their reckless disregard of the rules for visiting the canal. It was unexpected that all the parents were of the same mind for punishing their errant child. Now she knew the full account of why Billy was shitting himself, to say Sandra was irritated with him was an understatement. Although it was sad that the poor boy was going through such a messy and distressing business, it was self-inflicted. The fact that he hadn’t admitted his involvement when he had the opportunity rankled more and more and it was in this frame of mind she set about coming up with a plan to teach him a lesson. A lesson he wouldn’t forget and know that any future disobedience would have serious penalties. Before she went home from work that afternoon Sandra picked up the doctor’s prescription and did a little more, specialist shopping. Now, with the knowledge of cash in her bank account, she didn’t have to worry too much about money anymore, she was able to indulge her plan and Billy would be the main beneficiary from her retail excursion. # In just the few hours since his anal disaster and being put to bed, a fever had taken hold of Billy as he writhed in semiconscious pain. Had anyone been in his bedroom as he tossed and turned they would have heard the crinkle and rustling of his protection squeaking in protest as he thrashed around. His bladder shooting agonising pain along his throbbing cock as spurt after spurt of burning pee filled the thick padding. He may have been asleep but his body and brain were actively making sure they left him broken and irrational. Strange dreams grabbed hold and sent him twisting in fear, pain and suffering. His teeth chattered together yet his temperature soared. Sweat poured from him and soaked his bed as much as if he’d pissed himself, which he continued to do. Had anyone been watching they would have seen a boy possessed, whilst his slinky cushioned protection inflated and stretched under a seemingly never ending stream of piss. Billy was no longer in the real world as those nasty little microbes invaded and occupied every aspect of his body and he passed into a state of near delirium. # Sandra arrived home full of intent on teaching her son a lesson he wouldn’t forget. In her head she had planned that once his illness was under control and he was getting back to his confident self she would hit him with his punishment. However, that wasn’t to be because she was met at the door by a very anxious Lizzie who said she’d phoned for the doctor. Whilst waiting for Dr Harper Lizzie brought her mother up to speed on the events of the day. She told her about the swearing, the disregard of her instructions, the bolshie attitude and the final disastrous outcome in Billy’s pants and how she’d checked in on him and his temperature was soaring. Sandra took all this in as she tried to comfort her incapacitated son. He did look in a bad way but oddly enough, the protection that Lizzie had wrapped him in was working fine and made Billy appear more like a wriggling toddler than a possessed sixth grader. The doctor arrived and after administering a powerful antibiotic gave the family instructions on how best to treat Billy. She was convinced that the virus would be kept under control with regular doses and that he’d soon be back to his usual self. She smiled as if offering a happy solution to his recovery but both Sandra and Lizzie felt a shiver run down their spines at the suggestion of his ‘normality’. Meanwhile, the doctor suggested that hygiene was paramount and that if possible he should be kept in disposables and, when they were full… she didn’t need to finish off the sentence they were aware of what needed to be done and nodded their agreement. They needed to keep themselves clean to prevent the spread. She gave them a list of things to do and a further list of how the treatment should continue from there on. Not too much food in one go, a little and often rather than all at once. Keep him hydrated but avoid dairy products like milk. After the diarrhoea he would need to rebalance his electrolyte intake, so further instruction was given there. Sandra confirmed that, after she’d checked with other parents, Billy had been swimming in the canal so the doctor had been correct in her diagnosis. She explained that for the next few days the family were going to be busy looking after Billy as he would be very weak and vulnerable to other infections. She emphasised again how important hygiene was until he was back to his robust self. The doctor left to a calm and sleeping Billy. Meanwhile, the family had a little talk about what to do next. Dee-Dee insisted that she should keep wearing her nappy as the incidents of the day had scared her into thinking that the same thing could happen to her and she’d mess her pants. Lizzie and her mother agreed that it seemed, for the time being at least, a reasonable precaution, which was a relief to the youngest. Once plans had been made on how to look after Billy Sandra was able to share her good news about the promotion. She also had gifts for them; Dee-Dee got a doll she’d been hoping for whilst Lizzie got her own mobile phone - Billy would have to wait for his. As the antibiotics began to fight those invading microbes, an unconscious Billy peed out more fluid filling his already saturated nappy. It was Lizzie who suggested that the best way to feed him whilst in that state was to use a baby’s bottle full of the electrolyte and let him suckle on it. Sandra wasn’t convinced but when Lizzie went ahead and tried it anyway, she had to admit to its success, Billy was automatically feeding so this became the way to get fluids into him. # Once the initial fuss had calmed down Elizabeth shook her head. “So all this is self-inflicted?” A murmur of repressed anger escaped her lips, which was echoed by Sandra. “Yes, the bloody fool brought this entire thing on himself and the fact that he didn’t admit to it… well...” She was a little lost for words. For Lizzie it was a strange feeling. She’d wanted her annoying brother in nappies but wanted to be the cause of his embarrassment and not because he was just too stupid and had caused it himself. She felt cheated. A hundred things were going through her mind at that moment but what she didn’t know was that similar thoughts were passing through her mother’s. Later that night, as she was getting ready for bed, Dee-Dee was really insistent she should have similar thick protection like Billy. Although her mother said it wasn’t necessary the fear of something happening to her, and the sobbing that occurred until she was suitably encased, made for a strange new ritual. After witnessing the disaster in Billy’s pants she was simply terrified of messing her bed. Quite simply the baby of the family was terrified of having any more accidents. Meanwhile, Billy had been changed into a thicker night time disposable and given a bottle containing the elements the doctor had advised for a full recovery, which he drowsily suckled on. Sandra was surprised to see how easily he took to it but his thirst needed quenching and as this was what was on offer, his automatic responses took over. Once he’d emptied the bottle Lizzie took it away but replaced it with a dummy, which again she was pleased to see he sucked on with the ease he had the baby’s bottle. Sandra came and stood next to her daughter looking down on the patient. Now he was resting she saw just how grown up her daughter was in making sure his bedding was straightened, he was tidy and how she checked to make sure he was still dry. The dummy seemed to settle him after the bottle so thought it must have been one of the many good ideas her eldest had. They looked at each other and smiled. Once more, when like this, a little angel emerged to take the place of Billy, it was only when he was awake and being a boy that he became such a pain. His temperature was falling even if he was still more than a little out of it but there was obvious improvement. So, once these two operations were complete, getting the two youngest to bed, the two ‘women’ chatted about the last few days. Sandra was still buzzing about the way her day at work had gone and now she had been promoted, hopefully things would get better… financially at least. Elizabeth was full of praise for her clever and hardworking mother and the mutual support was enmeshed with each appreciating the work of the other. Sandra didn’t like having to rely on Lizzie to the extent she did but her daughter never once complained, and for that, Sandra was eternally thankful. Billy’s act of stupidity became the focus of their discussion and when Sandra explained that he wasn’t alone, his three best friends were also in the same position, they cheerily deliberated over what punishment would be suitable for the lot of them. In amongst the easy banter a few ideas were voiced that Sandra had actually already considered, and when she found Lizzie in agreement smiled a knowing smile, whilst letting them develop in their own right. In this cheerful, gossipy, confidential atmosphere it was agreed that there was something about Billy wearing a nappy that made him seem less troublesome, arrogant and more… normal. His bluster disappeared and that vulnerability his thick protection projected made his seem more a ‘loving’ little brother/son than the irritating brat he’d turned in to. Enjoying this ‘girls only’ situation, and giggling like teenagers (even though only one of them was) they tried to outdo each other in one outrageous suggestion after another. “No, no, no…” Lizzie laughingly interrupted one of her mother’s proposals, “he should be made to wear the nappy permanently. After all, he got himself into it… snicker … so... chuckle … it should be his reward until next school term.” Of course this had been her plan since Billy’s first bedwetting incident and it had been going well so far, she really didn’t want it to stop. What was even better now Dee-Dee was a little paranoid about having a messy accident, it would be easier to keep them both under wraps, so to speak. “We should take away all his clothes,” Lizzie continued jauntily as she made her proposal, “that way he couldn’t wear what he wanted… only… giggle… what he was given.” Sandra confided that one of the things she’d given serious thought to was that her darling son would indeed be confined to nappies for some time, even to the extent she’d already bought further nappies and a set of thick plastic pants, which she intended would be his daywear. This was to be the present he received to mark his mother’s promotion… and an indication of how annoyed she was with him and this entire fiasco. Now both were of a similar mind Lizzie was happy to go along and encourage her mother in her plan, even insisting that not only did he deserve it but as a punishment for the fear he’d induced in Dee-Dee. Lizzie was adamant that he had to pay for his reckless behaviour and all the trouble and upset he’d caused so added, as if to emphasise the point, she would include his mates in the punishment as well. Sandra didn’t realise that Lizzie’s enthusiasm for such a punishment for Billy was already something she had envisioned on her own. However, the thought of his mates joining him in such a punishment got her mind thinking in a slightly different way and wondered if the other parents might share her ‘initiatives’. ##### Part 6 For the next few days everything was centred on Billy’s recovery. Although he didn’t need hospitalisation he was very weak and unable to do much. Both Sandra and Lizzie saw to nappy changes during the slow but eventual positive reaction to Doctor Harper’s treatment. The baby’s bottle full of health- building nutrients was definitely the best way to get him to drink even if he wasn’t that aware of the process. However, Lizzie maintained substituting the dummy for the empty bottle because, in his slightly comatose state, she just loved to see him sucking away hoping to get more liquid. He really did look like a big vulnerable baby. Whilst he was out of his senses and needed all the help his family could offer, bit by bit Lizzie began to see her brother in a slightly different light. Things began to get muddled - one minute pleased she was causing him some embarrassment (even if he was not really aware of it) the next she felt for him. Somewhere in all this ‘childish’ madness, her hormones, like Billy’s interfering microbes, began to take effect. Her thoughts were shifting and saw it as her duty, not as a piece of ‘holiday mischief’. She began to view it as her obligation to make sure he was kept safe, and to her, the best way to do that was keep him in nappies. It was perhaps strange the way these two approaches had become one. The revelation came about when Lizzie was discussing something with her mother, who was piling praise for all the effort she’d put into Billy. Because of work, Sandra wasn’t there all the time and although she made sure she was home as much as possible, it was her eldest daughter who maintained a careful watch. “I think I’d like to work with children and babies when I’m older.” She seemed embarrassed and shy about revealing such thoughts even to her mother. “Perhaps in a kindergarten or… some such…” For the first time in a very long time Elizabeth had the doubts of a fourteen year-old. Would her mum think she was able to do anything like that? “Well dear, you’d be ideal,” Sandra responded, “the amount of care you’ve put into both Dee-Dee and Billy… especially Billy… has been exceptional. Good for you.” “Well, it has been hard work.” Lizzie was chuffed with such a positive reaction and saw herself a little more ‘caring’ and a little less ‘evil’ big sister. “And you my love have not shirked any responsibility at all.” Lizzie shrugged so her mother continued. “Lizzie, you have been wonderful… even changing messy nappies hasn’t put you off… and that was something your father never got to grips with. You’ve proven time and time again just how thoughtful, quick thinking, aware…” Sandra was running out of the correct words as she stroked her daughter’s hair and hugged her tightly. “You would be fantastic in such a job.” # Although Billy still filled his nappy at least the dramatic effects of diarrhoea had been brought under some control. Unfortunately, the parasites clung on longer in his bladder but eventually his bright orange pee changed colour to something less vivid. Despite this, he was still experiencing uncontrolled spurts and woke up damp most mornings. However, no matter how much better he got his mother insisted he should stay in bed as he was very weak and they didn’t want to ‘agitate’ those destructive bacteria and make their ‘sweet little boy’ have a relapse. Although he wasn’t aware, this was both a part of his recovery and punishment. Between them they made Billy feel cared for but very much incapable of looking after himself. This was very much a part of Sandra’s plan and Lizzie still had moments when she just loved to see her brother squirm as he was changed. This was something his mother wouldn’t let him do on his own; she simply didn’t trust him to be thorough enough. Despite his grumblings he was confined to bed wearing thick protection. They insisted, under doctor’s orders, he continued to use a nappy for “health and hygiene reasons”. Billy didn’t quite catch on to the extent they were babying him but, because of his disastrous flaunting of doctor’s orders last time, reluctantly did as he was told. As he grew stronger and more able to do things Sandra changed the bottle for a sippy cup (an old one of Dee-Dee’s from when she was a toddler). He was still a little shaky so explained to him that it was all about keeping him ‘safe, secure and on the mend’. Lizzie was sad to see this bit of the process come to an end because she’d had the idea to tell him that the doctor insisted he had to drink from the baby’s bottle so he didn’t “…take too much liquid in all in one go”. Of course that was total fabrication but it gave Lizzie the opportunity to keep Billy a baby for that bit longer. This was the strange contradiction Lizzie was dealing with; one moment loving and understanding, the next out to maximise any chance to humiliate Billy. At night she slipped into his room to make sure he had a dummy to suck on and a teddy bear to hug. Now it wasn’t so much to embarrass him (although there was probably still an element of that) she thought he’d simply sleep better knowing he had those with him, like any baby would. She loved feeding her brother when he’d been incapable and had insisted, even as he recovered, that it was best if she managed the spoon, all he had to do was concentrate on getting the food down. To begin with it made perfect sense but Lizzie, like the bottle, insisted carrying on the work until she had no alternative but let her charge feed himself. He was allowed out of bed for short periods but only to either play by himself or with Dee-Dee. Although wetting got more controlled his juvenile protection was still his day and night time dress code; he wasn’t given the opportunity to question that decision… it was for ‘medical reasons’. # Whilst ill Billy hadn’t noticed just how his room had filled up with nappies, vinyl pants, powders, lotions, creams, bottles, wipes and a host of other things. They were all he saw clothes wise and the only things with which he had any link during his recovery. Lizzie brought down from the attic a few toys he’d had when younger and left them around for him to play with. He seemed happy for the distraction and, like when he was six, had an entire play area set up in his bedroom, which occupied his time. There was absolutely no doubt as far as Sandra or Elizabeth was concerned, Billy was far more compliant and less argumentative when wearing a nappy. That nasty streak seemed to be hidden once he was wrapped in thick padding and the household was able to function in an atmosphere of peace and relative calm. Any time he voiced even the slightest protest they vigorously reminded him of his shitty experience and how because of that, his filthy clothes had to be thrown away. Because of that he’d stay as he was until they were certain there would be no repeat performance. However, that particular experience had so un-nerved Billy that, as if to prove the point, even the mere mention of it had him peeing into his nappy. Meanwhile, Sandra had already cleared out all of Billy’s clothes; he wasn’t going to be given another opportunity of running off. She even parcelled up the few items of her husband’s and stored them in a secret place. The entire house now was only baby and female clothing. Billy would only be allowed to wear what was decided for him and for the moment that was just his vast array of infantile defence. Of course he was less than thrilled at not being able to change out of all the protection and was getting fed up of them reminding him of his explosive accident. Again, he simply did not see it as his fault; he’d been ill and it happened… that was all there was to it. However, unknown to him, Sandra had decided he was going to be kept in a nappy for quite some time to come. Her idea was simple - if he’d been so unconcerned about bringing such an occurrence down on himself, she was happy to impose it as a penance for his flagrant disregard to her instructions. Dee-Dee had also thrown herself into looking after her brother. She wasn’t as reliant on her own protection as she had been but often, if Billy had a very wet or messy night, out of fear insisted on being reunited with it all. There were days when her mother said she didn’t need them and she’d happily wear knickers but then for some reason kick off and want to be put back. Dee-Dee’s tantrums at this time were short-lived simply because Lizzie was more than happy to take charge and swaddle her little sister. Dee-Dee actually liked these moments of intimacy with her sister and would smile and giggle all the way through the process and offer a huge hug of thanks once the process was complete. Meanwhile, together with help from her sister, Lizzie had got more of her old clothing ready for their baby brother. When the time came and he was well enough to go outside or on outings, he would be restricted to very few items and none he would probably like. Lizzie had gathered items she hoped would match something similar to what Dee-Dee might wear. Her plan was to have them looking as much alike as possible and it would be to Billy’s detriment that he ended up looking more like his sister. # The summer was in full swing, the weather was wonderful but to begin with Sandra kept him confined to his room, “just to be sure”. Of course Lizzie was left in charge when Sandra went to work and Billy had been given a stern warning about his attitude and conduct towards her. The threat of a spanking from mum didn’t particularly scare him but the idea that Lizzie might administer it certain did. When he was out of bed he’d be allowed to play whilst wearing just his thick fabric nappy providing it was tucked in and fitted snugly. To see him scooting around on his hands and knees, playing with his toys, his pure white terry cotton bottom the focus of attention was definitely a visual bonus to the rest of the family. He wasn’t happy with this arrangement, he hated the big pink pins that bound everything to him so tightly but neither his mother nor Lizzie gave him any other option. They were in charge of keeping him clean and tidy and that involved this kind of safeguard. He still wasn’t fully fit but the occasionally leak would occur and wet the nappy so he found it difficult to argue about not wearing one. Although recovering, Billy was made to feel that any control he thought he might have over his bodily functions was illusionary. To emphasise this they pointed to the fact that he always woke up soaking wet. Whilst not always needed, this was of course helped to some degree by Lizzie’s magic squeezy bottle. She didn’t have to use it but sometimes her fourteen year-old devilment returned and she couldn’t help herself. Both his mother and sister were adamant that any independence Billy felt would be led by what he was dressed in and not what he wanted to wear. If he was unconcerned to go out wearing just a nappy then everyone was happy for him to do so. They knew that he would be disinclined to let anyone know he was wearing such heavy protection and were convinced that any rebellion would be governed by that. Once he began to feel better and the disastrous shits had all but dried up Billy was begging for the new clothes promised by his mother before the fever took him. He couldn’t wait to get back into his own clothes and meet up with his mates. He’d known nothing about the similar problems they’d had and when he’d asked if anyone had called was told that for ‘safeties sake’ they were not allowed to visit just yet. His ‘reassuring’ mum would add that no doubt, in good time, they’d soon be back together. # Sandra had been tired of the constant arguments in her own household and reached out to the parents of the other three boys to see if they had similar problems, and what, if any, solutions they’d come up with. Once they got talking it was amazing just how fed up the boy’s mothers were with their continual disruptive shenanigans. Naughty boys who’d disregarded the many lectures about the dangers of swimming in the canal, which they had so thoughtlessly ignored, were now paying for such negligence. So, the one thing they had in common were sons with infections and who, as a result were, at eleven years old, back to wearing nappies. She wasn’t alone in being at her wit’s end, though somewhat surprised that, to varying degrees, they were all more than a little disgruntled with their own son’s unruly, self-centred attitude. They’d all had enough. It would seem that Mitch, Dave and Aaron had the same self-obsessed little traits as Billy. Like him they were disrespectful and off-hand with the rest of their families, whilst not achieving the grades expected at school. Frustration and despondency seemed to be a recurring theme each mother voiced but wondered if it was just their age and ‘boys being boys’? In some way Sandra was pleased that it wasn’t just Billy who was a pain and once all four mother’s got talking they had a great deal in common. The mums even complained about the long summer break being the most taxing event in the school year and dreaded having to find babysitters for their kids when they had to go out to work. With that particular recurring theme a new, more adventurous plan began to formulate in Sandra’s head; a plan that would bring all the boys together where they could be ‘chastened’ for their lying and lack of respect. As an incentive for the parents, there’d be a babysitter already in place to look after them. Sandra had never been on the ‘most popular parent’ list, mostly due to her husband’s criminality, but she was to find that this new idea would find a resonance with her fellow, undervalued and fraught parents. However, first she had to make sure Billy was disciplined for lying. She was determined to make sure he’d regret his disregard for her rules. The fact that he had been pissing and shitting himself was not enough, although it was the spur to what was to happen to him. # Having spoken to the other parents, having been lied to, always living on the edge with Billy’s tantrums and actions, Sandra had had enough. Although she’d said she didn’t want to be vindictive she was more than a little determined that her son would know the consequences of his many ‘crimes’. She wondered if the other parents were in the same mood for a complete clamp down on their son’s behaviour but had decided that Billy for one was not going to forget this summer. Having brought all this on himself Billy was soon to find his options very limited and the determination of his mother more focused on him than he would have liked. His nappy, even once cured of those determined little microbes, was going to become the centre of his world. Sandra had to agree with Lizzie that, since her two youngest had been wearing nappies behaviour had certainly improved between them. Like Lizzie, she also agreed that there was obviously more control as to what they could do and where they could go. She’d noticed that Billy was reluctant to go outside at all if he was only wearing protection. His fear that “someone might see” kept him indoors and confined to bed, watching TV or playing in his room. Dee-Dee was different from Billy; she wanted to wear protection because she was scared of anything untoward happening like it had him. She’d grown to rely on the ample padding to give her peace of mind when she went to bed and also, if she had to go out, she felt less anxious if she was wearing her slippery protection. She didn’t mind the padding between her legs, although her nappy wasn’t quite as thick as her brother’s, she had gotten used to it fairly quickly. Lizzie had helped with this early on by constantly telling her little sister that she not only looked good in her protection but added a little lie by saying it helped to keep Billy’s infection at bay. She then made it into a little game by letting Dee-Dee decide what protection she preferred to wear. Her choice was always greeted with enthusiasm, which made wearing it more of her own personal fashion statement, which her older sister encouraged. However, Sandra had determined that, as far as Billy was concerned, he would be wearing nappies for the full length of the summer break. Now the infection had all but departed, perhaps it was time he knew why. This was going to be an amalgamation of punishments, not only for his little swim in the canal, but every other obnoxious thing he’d done over the years. The boy was definitely going to learn about consequences. # Billy still had no idea his mother knew about the illicit swim, he also didn’t know his friends were in the same boat, so it came as a surprise when Sandra called him into the front room for a talk. It was a very warm day and he’d been outside playing in the back garden wearing only his nappy. However, he’d gone a couple of days without wetting so assumed she was about to take him shopping for new clothes. He’d been moaning and moody about the length of time the ‘doctor’ had insisted he stay in a nappy and thought it was about time he was released from such childish garb. Of course the doctor had no say in the length of time he should be in a nappy that had been down to his mother. However, when she had asked him to come through for a chat he thought this seemed very positive. Although only his mother was there Lizzie was hanging around out of sight but able to see and hear what was about to transpire. First his mother unpinned his wet nappy and let it fall to the floor, then she looked at him in a serious way. “Billy,” she said with some authority, “I’m afraid the time has come to, well, er, um…” she reasserted herself. “Let you know what I know.” The smile Billy had on his face disappeared and he fidgeted uncertainly in his nakedness. “You have given this family, and as it turns out, others, a great deal of unpleasantness that was completely unnecessary.” Billy cast his eyes to the floor wondering what exactly it was he’d done. He tried thinking about his illness and couldn’t see how that affected anyone else. Typically, he didn’t see all the extra work everyone had to do to keep him spotless. Once his mother explained she knew about the canal swim he suddenly caught on. “But, er, it was Aaron’s idea, not mine… he… er… um…” She shook her head. “No Billy, it was entirely your fault. The illness, the nappies, the unbelievable inconvenience that seems to follow you around… everything has been your fault. I’ve spoken to your friend’s parents and… even your friends are united in their agreement, it was all… your… fault.” She accentuated the last three words as she took hold of his shoulders so he had to look her in the eyes. “You refuse to take responsibility for anything and think that everyone else is here for your benefit… well that stops now.” She grabbed him by the arm and thrust him over her lap. Sandra hadn’t realised just how angry she’d become. Her fury grew with each misdemeanour she recalled. The boy had, over the last few years, put them through hell… now was the time a penance needed to be extracted… and acted upon to make sure of no repeat offenses. # He’d been spanked before and knew his mother was quite powerful when determined. However, the protest he screamed was very quickly subdued by the thwack of a wooden spoon making sudden contact with his upturned bottom. She’d never used anything other than her hand before and this hurt more than he could ever remember. He wriggled and squirmed in protest, screaming abuse through his tears as he attempted to get away. This didn’t help his case as the rain of blows from the implement that was reddening his bum cheeks grew more intense. “You have brought this on yourself. The lies, the arguments, the complete lack of regard or respect for anyone…” Sandra was exasperated and angry with what she had to do to get the message home but was determined that by the time she’d finished, Billy would be a completely different and well-mannered boy. Dee-Dee joined Lizzie in her hiding place as her brother’s bottom turned varying shades of red. “Why is Billy being spanked?” Dee-Dee asked Lizzie inquisitively. “For lying to mummy… and… for all the rotten things he has said or done to us.” “Oh!” “He’s been a very naughty boy and made things difficult for a lot of people so…. mummy thinks he needs to know just what a bad boy he’s been… and as a result… that there are consequences to all that.” Lizzie was worried that all this info was going over Dee-Dee’s head but she just rubbed her silky protection and continued to watch her brother’s punishment. # Billy was still relatively weak from his illness and had no real power to escape his mother’s grip. The speed and control with which she administered his punishment, together with the reasons why his bottom was going to be so red, was lost as he bawled out his pain and rage. His cussing didn’t last long as he soon found that it didn’t stop the painful whacks. Never had his bottom received such intense action or such a degree of agony. Even the pain caused by the microbes had been awful but not as excruciating as this. Soon his screams of anger were whimpers of apology and tears but still his mother didn’t let up. The aggressive little horror was supplanted by a feeble and very sorry weeping figure, drained of any resistance and pleading for his mother to stop and he’d agree anything to make it stop. Eventually she did and stood him up facing her. The defiant attitude he often sported after being punished in the past was no longer there, just a picture of defeat. His bottom stung but he was not allowed to rub the pain away, she held his arms down by his side as she informed him of what was going to happen next. “As you acted like a baby in defying me regarding the canal, from now until you return to school, and as a reminder of those stupid actions, you will be wearing a nappy constantly. Whether you use it or not is up to you but both night and day you will be subject to thick protection so you don’t forget there are consequences to your irresponsible actions. Do you understand?” Billy’s mind was desperately trying to find a way of making the pain in his bottom go away but his mother prevented this so he had to listen. “You flaunted my rules and as a result you ended up wearing a nappy… well… now you will wear one all the time until I’m sure you understand why you are being punished this way.” “But, but, buuuttt… aww, mum, mummy,” he was trying for some sympathy but it wasn’t working. “It’s no good objecting or begging for a change of mind… it will not happen unless I see a real change in your attitude.” She got her second wind. “Whilst you’ve had to wear protection your arrogance and self-importance has diminished and you’ve been a far nicer person to be around… and that’s despite your messy and smelly accidents… I want to see that ‘nice’ person all the time.” Reluctantly and through tearful, defeated glazed eyes he nodded understanding of his mother’s words. “If at any time… without my permission I see you not wearing what I’ve determined, you will not only be grounded… you will be wearing a nappy to senior school come the new term.” She waited to see if this further threat had any reaction but it was hard to see through the tears that were still falling. His naked body was trembling and his bottom was smarting badly so it was difficult being brave under such circumstances. The tears fell but the idea of going to senior school wearing a nappy terrified him. In his head he was full of anger and defiance but in actuality, after Sandra had catalogued his long list of offenses, he wasn’t so sure of himself. “You’ve been a very naughty boy, and because of that, your friends have suffered and as a result of that, so have their families… you should be grateful that I’m not letting them discipline you as well.” “However,” she emphasised the word, “in this house Lizzie has full power over you. She has been the one who has looked after you through your illness… so, should she see you breaking any of the rules I’ve set down, she has my authority to spank you there and then… and that means in public if she has to.” # Billy couldn’t believe what he was hearing because the excruciating pain took away some of his understanding. All he could do was blub his responses. It was an extremely crestfallen eleven year-old who was now worried what his mates would say if he had to wear a nappy all the time. Now she had his undivided attention Sandra made sure her words were understood and obeyed. “We will no longer put up with any of your tantrums. You’re going to be kept on very tight reins and, if you start acting up at any time, you’ll end up actually wearing reins out in public.” This was an empty threat as Sandra had no intention of doing such a thing but she needed to make sure Billy was acquiescent and know that things could and would get worse if he protested. “Your attitude is going to change for the better so we are going to start from scratch. “I will not put up with a single act of defiance… because if there is I will spank you… and if you think what you have just received was bad, I will not hesitate in making you wish that was so…” Billy just shook where he stood. His mother had never been like this with him before and it scared him. He was even more upset by what she said next. “If you think this is just a threat you are sadly mistaken. All you clothes have been given away and you only get to wear what I… or Lizzie decide. “From this moment on this is what you will wear during the day.” She produced the ‘present’ she’d been keeping since her promotion, which was a bundle of thick, soft terry nappies and several pairs of very robust, see-thru plastic pants. “Your nappy will always be on view whilst you are at home so we can see if and when you need changing… and… while the weather is nice, that’s all you’ll wear. When we go out, depending on your behaviour, you’ll be allowed some shorts. However, that will be at my discretion and not an automatic right.” She indicated he should lie down on the pile she’d just spread out on the ground. The need to show some kind of rebellion was strong but his sore bottom, and the promise of worse, was a great incentive for him to comply. The wooden spoon that had done so much damage to his bare but now very red cheeks was still within his mother’s reach. Arguing was no longer an option, he’d had that spanked out of him so was a very sorry and contrite boy, and if he didn’t want to get paddled every time he opened his mouth, obedience and total submission to the new rules seemed the only option. Sandra slathered on the anti-rash cream and sprinkled the powder before emphasising once more that nappies were to be his main clothing from now on. “You have proved to be irresponsible and completely untrustworthy so will have no say or input into what you wear or when or how you’ll be changed.” The extra padding that she’d slipped into the new nappy squares felt soft and bulky as she pulled it all together and pinned him in. Even though he’d been wearing something similar for the last week or so she knew he hoped that would all come to an end and be free of this babyish garb. She also knew that he wouldn’t like what was happening to him but reiterated that any kind of rebellion would be met with a severe spanking. Strangely for Billy, the soft, thick embrace of his padding and the amount of cream and powder he’d been smothered in was actually bringing relief to his battered bottom. Despite this being a punishment Sandra was very careful that his new nappy fitted him well. They were top of the range (after all they were a present to commemorate her promotion), very thick and fluffy and would be a relief to the cheap stuff he’d been wearing. As everything was scrupulously fitted Sandra continued with her rules that every action and reaction on his part would be subject to further punishment should it warrant it so therefore… it would be up to him just how much his bottom was smacked. All the way through these ‘rules’ and ‘regulations’ she made sure that his nappy was pulled up tight and fastened correctly into place. His new see-thru plastic pants were firmer than the soft vinyl ones he’d been wearing; even the hated pink ones were more pliable than these, which held him and his padding firmly in place. They had popper studs down each side so could be released that way as well as simply be pulled down. The entire thing felt like a piece of heavy plastic armour and his well-padded terry nappy and the two large pink holding pins were easily visible to anyone looking on. “There,” Sandra said with some satisfaction, “everything all nicely enclosed and… safe.” Billy was still shaking with grief, bewilderment and suffering. His legs shook as she helped him to his feet and the only positive thing that helped was the soft padding easing the pain from his well beaten bottom. ### Part 7 The recent success at work and the elation at a job brilliantly executed had had an effect on Sandra. She felt confident and secure in her judgement, after all, hadn’t what she’d accomplished benefited the entire company? Many people owed their future prospects to her skilful negotiating. Sandra was on top of the world and now, with this ‘personal’ project underway, there was a feeling of euphoria and that anything could be accomplished if she set her mind to it. Sandra found her work colleagues giving her a great deal more respect and admiration. Another thing that happened was… she wasn’t always tired and grumpy. In fact, she was now unexpectedly rejuvenated, enjoying and coping with everything being sent her way. Nothing was too much trouble or problem insurmountable. It was if she’d been born again. Before this success, her work life and family life had all been a bit of a burden but now, now she relished the opportunity to fix a problem or find a solution and saw she was able to do both with relative ease. With work sorted she was certain that her home ‘dilemma’ was also soon to be another thing successfully accomplished. The thing was… her success had literally gone to her head. That victory had set off a number of neurons, chemicals and synapses acting in a way they never had before. # Sandra was pleased with the way her boy looked in his new outfit. Strangely a sudden rush of empathy ran through her nervous system as she was reminded of Billy as a toddler. It was a time when he was just so cute and lovable and hadn’t yet got into the habit of lying or causing trouble. Now she saw him dressed as he was she sighed… that was a time Sandra recognised she missed terribly. Even though he’d been wearing a nappy now for quite number of days, this weeping, chastised little boy in his shiny plastic pants resonated in her head. Perhaps, all the piss, shit and dirty nappies had led to this moment of realisation and that was why she was so keen to continue with things as they were. Whether she was truly out to humiliate him or not, the truth was, she loved the way he was now and didn’t want things to change. His big eyes, glassy from all his crying and his sad face made her forget the terror he’d become and remember the sweet innocent he used to be. Then he’d loved his nappy, even after he was potty trained he still held a terry nappy square as a sort of security blanket and silently sucked on its corners when worried. With her boy now nervous and completely subjugated such memories flooded her hippocampus. She hugged him again hoping to make him feel less unsure about what he was wearing. “You look so... so cute Billy… I… I…” She hugged him again and kissed the top of his head, whilst patting his plastic protection in what she hoped was a reassuring way. She wanted him to accept the situation and the punishment for what he’d done and realise this was all for his own good. Not too long ago she would have thought up this idea of punishing Billy and immediately rejected it as stupid and far too labour intensive. However, now, it seemed like the best thing she’d ever planned; the detail, the inclusion, the eventual outcome all appeared to be the obvious solution to her problems. She was in no doubt whatsoever she was on the right track. There was a possible bonus, and that was getting back onto some kind of social level from which she’d been shunned for far too long. She thought she deserved to be accepted and, whilst getting Billy back as a functioning part of the family, had come up with this unusual ‘failsafe’ plan to make that happen. Billy had been quite the little angel when a baby. He looked cute and was just so loving and sweet natured. Where ever or whenever it went wrong… that moment had to be found and rectified so, in amongst everything else that was going on in her head, the re-set button on Billy had to be pressed. Starting over seemed a brilliant place to begin and, as he was already wearing a nappy, thought the time and opportunity were there for the taking. To begin with he would feel it was a continuation of the protection from his illness but later, when realising this was all he was being allowed to wear, she knew he’d start to lash out. However, she was going to be firm but sympathetic, loving but controlling and see how long he could go without throwing a tantrum. Although, if or when he did, it would quickly be dealt with. No outburst was going to be tolerated, nor would damage to any of his protection, both grounds for a severe paddling. Sandra made the rules and consequences abundantly clear. She made the threat one he could not ignore. She hugged Billy in a tight, loving embrace and whispered it was now up to him, his behaviour would be under close scrutiny and she hoped that the wooden spoon (or any other unspecified implement) wouldn’t need to be used again. A shiver of fear ran through Billy’s already wracked body. He also didn’t want to feel the sting of that particular implement of punishment again and the idea there was something even worse really worried him. The throbbing of his well chastised bottom was calming a little thanks to the heavy cushioning he now wore but the sudden thought of it happening again brought an unexpected flush as he wet his new soft pristine nappy for the first time. # The family appeared to be going through some kind of transition. The microbes destroying Billy’s organs. Hormones messing with Lizzie’s mind. Neurons giving Sandra a strange euphoria. Only Dee-Dee was unaffected by all this internal mayhem but was in no position to influence any of it. She looked on and occasionally hid behind her own protection when it all seemed to be getting a bit much. She’d happily been involved in planning and conspiring with mummy and Lizzie against Billy but now saw she was being asked to be grown up as Billy once again became the centre of attention. Lizzie had told her that now Billy was the baby of the family, he needed looking after, he needed to wear protection and (Lizzie had said this in a conspiratorial whisper), he needed his two big sisters to help him come to terms with it all. Dee-Dee wasn’t sure if she could do all this; after all, she quite liked her own protection now and didn’t want her moments with Lizzie to end if Billy was going to be getting all the attention… again. Meanwhile, Billy was finding it difficult to believe his mother would do something like this. He knew it was well within the bounds of something Lizzie would dream up, but his mother? It wasn’t fair. Why was she being so cruel? He thought she was being so understanding about his illness, but it was all a charade, he felt deceived. He was very much in denial by simply not seeing his massive contribution to this whole scenario. He looked down at the huge padding between his legs, the shiny plastic armour that gripped everything so tight – why would his mother think this was a good idea? He should be out with his mates climbing trees, camping, swimming in the… well, perhaps not swimming... He shouldn’t be treated as a baby and the tantrum that was building changed to yet another deluge of sobbing… the warmth of his pee spreading in his protection making him think twice about the potency of his objection. # Sandra was content. She’d set out the rules so he could be in no doubt what the consequences were if he disobeyed her and, as she was very busy with her much more prestigious job, knew she would have to rely on Elizabeth to keep him to them. Should he want to go out with his mates, he could do as long as he was wearing his infantile fortification and had someone suitable supervising. Other clothing was optional but only at her or Lizzie’s discretion. He wouldn’t be allowed to just smooch around the house or avoid his friends. Family outings and people visiting would not be an excuse for him to hide away; he’d have to face society dressed in his thick protection. How he handled it would be up to him but should he make a scene, Sandra made it very clear that she would punish him in public and wouldn’t spare his embarrassment. She also made it clear that for his ‘benefit’ she’d bought very strong and heavy see-thru plastic pants. She’d made it abundantly obvious that he would be only wearing such clothing at home… and in public should he not behave. They were tough and quite watertight but revealed the nappy underneath. However, should an accident occur, it could be noticed immediately and the appropriate action undertaken. They creaked and noisily crackled when worn but were an absolute deterrent to any accidental faecal or urine accidents; the pharmacist had been very resolute about the quality of the product. Billy was going to have a constant reminder, through the sound and feel of his protection, just why he was being punished in this way. To be in a position to be able to hide even part of this childish stuffing he would have to earn the right to shorts by being on his best behaviour… all the time. He’d simply brought the entire thing down on himself. It was entirely his own fault. Yes, Sandra was quite content in how she was dealing with her wayward son. # He would be wearing a nappy and soft vinyl pants to sleep in but his daywear would consist of this new formal protection. He wasn’t going to like it one bit but Sandra planned on getting him used to the idea by being consistent. Any dissention had to be nipped in the bud fairly early on so, after a few attempts she came up with a surprising schedule. A schedule that would make sure he was up and dressed appropriately before she went to work. No more lie-ins and more especially, so she could make sure he started the day as she intended he finish it, well protected and under firm supervision. His life would take on a very strict regime and for which she produced a timetable. 7.00. Get up, toilet and morning change. 7.15. Breakfast 7.30 - 10.00. Play 10.00 - 10.15. Juice and snacks 10.15 - Noon. Play Noon - 12.30. Lunch 12.30 - 1.30. Nap time 1.30 – 1.45. Change 1.45 – 4.30. Play 4.30. Evening Meal 5.00 - 6.30. TV and family time 6.30 – 7.00. Bath time 7.00 Bedtime and story (the story was added by Lizzie when she saw the timetable, she thought all babies liked a story at the end of the day). All nappy changes would have to be supervised; Billy could not be trusted to do it properly himself. The only thing he was allowed to do for himself was play and often even that would be directed by Lizzie. Sandra had to agree with Lizzie that it was all very juvenile but, as she was at pains to point out to her ‘thoughtful’ daughter, his action had led to him having to wear nappies, so it was only right he should just carry on wearing them. To Sandra this just seemed to make perfect sense. He’d brought it on himself and, as they’d found out over the past few days, his behaviour was better when wearing protection. They had better control over his life the less control they allowed Billy to have even if that meant removing everything that pointed to him being an eleven year-old boy. This of course was music to Lizzie’s ears. # Now she had her boy and her system in place Sandra asked the other three boy’s parents for their input. She’d heard them complaining about their lack of respect, and although each boy was slowly recovering the overall result had been a huge strain on the families concerned. Sandra offered a possible respite should any of the other parents feel they needed it; a readymade babysitter and a chance to be temporarily free from their obnoxious, untrustworthy sons. When Sandra had discussed her thoughts with Lizzie her daughter couldn’t believe what was being asked, it was all so perfect. If there was a word for when all ideas and plans mesh together to produce a satisfying result, Lizzie didn’t know it but what her mother was suggesting must be it. Lizzie had come up with the idea of making her brother and little sister babies for the holiday simply because the idea amused her. She liked the idea they’d be totally reliant on her but now, well, sheesh, what a cosmic turn up. Providence had proved - be careful what you wish for… but in this case… well! She was quite astounded that her mother wanted to enforce almost exactly the regime she had planned on executing for her own entertainment, and was going to be well paid for taking on such responsibility. Not only that, but she would possibly be in charge of Billy’s little posse of friends who were in need of the same discipline. She was overwhelmed by the hugeness of the project but already her mind was working on ways to make it fun… for her at least. The thought of having total control over four eleven year-old boys was mind blowing. As her motherly thoughts towards Billy gave way to the more embarrassing aspects of his and his friend’s new situation, she giggled to herself, full of the fun she anticipated. Although Sandra would be home some of the time, she made it clear to the other parents that during the day Elizabeth would be supervising Billy and that, for a reasonable fee, had agreed to act as babysitter to anyone else who cared to join him. Thus relieving them of the worry of finding their own babysitter and having the confidence in the abilities of her daughter (she’d waxed lyrically about how fantastic Lizzie had been during the worse aspects of Billy’s illness), they all seemed impressed. # Dave, Mitch and Aaron had all, at one time or another, complained in general about Billy’s big sister. They moaned about how pushy she was and how often she’d show Billy up by making him do things he didn’t want to do. They complained how she spoiled the fun the boys would be having by her aggressive and demanding nature. After many secret phone calls between all parents, and to the total ignorance of their boys, Sandra’s plan was eagerly pounced upon with surprising fervour. It appeared that she’d come up with a strategy that solved a number of concerns, her recent successful negotiating skills for her job definitely working in her favour. Between all the parents it was agreed that until they thought their boys were trustworthy enough to observe the rules they would be treated as toddlers. Sandra had gone out of her way to explain what she intended doing to her son and why. She hoped the other parents would join her in the enterprise seeing as how the problems the boys now endured were self-inflicted. She wanted Billy at least to learn a very specific lesson – ‘listen to your mother’ and argued that it was an opportunity to retrain them all at a very basic level. Despite one or two small worries her overall plan was accepted and, as the boys, like Billy, were already wearing nappies to cover the occasional night time accident, there was no reason not to start immediately. Part of this ‘quick acceptance’ was because what Sandra was offering meant that the other parents would be relieved of many of their own worries. Their boys had been a huge problem before their illness dictated their messy bedridden life and the idea that they didn’t have to worry about a babysitter was a huge bonus. Lizzie’s hard won reputation was about to used and the boys’ lives were going to change quite dramatically. It was decided that now Billy had all but recovered Dave, Mitch and Aaron could visit. In fact, what was actually being arranged was for them all to be left at the Southall residence each week day where Lizzie would babysit the four boys for the duration of the long school break. This would give the other families freedom to get on with their lives, whilst the disruptive and argumentative element was kept busy elsewhere. Although the Southall home was originally meant as a drop off and pick up venue on a daily basis arrangements could be made for one or more of the boys to stay over. Sandra would be home on an evening to supervise, so if the parents and family wanted a break for a few days, they could go off and leave the troublesome part of the family in the responsible care of the Southall’s. Sandra jokingly called it a ‘The Canal Boys Summer Camp’ so his mates were under no illusion that the cause of their strange and shameful situation was all Billy’s fault. This proposal appealed greatly to all the stressed parents and Sandra’s standing in this very specific little community soared as a result of such a generous offer. Lizzie would be well paid for taking on the responsibility of looking after such a boisterous group but her charges would have restrictions placed upon them and it would be up to her to enforce the rules that, in the past, they all seemed so at ease breaking. # From the tentative and dismissive way they had referred to Lizzie to their parents, it was already noted that they were fairly fearful of her. They thought she was a bit of a tyrant and her reputation at school had also filtered down to some of the parents. She was a bit of a bully, very authoritative, sure of her abilities and so wasn’t going to be a push over. Only a few older students at school challenged Lizzie, whilst the younger kids tried to keep out of her eye-line. Her reputation was such that, perhaps she wouldn’t have to work so hard to make sure the boys were kept in line. The ‘summer camp’ meant no unsupervised activity without a grown-up or other designated responsible person being around. It would be made clear that any infringement of the rules would mean punishment, and not just the threat of punishment. Sandra’s timetable was to be the basis for what was to take place. Strict bed times would be enforced; protection would be worn at all times, so nappies would become the main clothing and were there to be used. Soiled nappies would only be changed by the ‘responsible’ other person or their delegated helpers. No boy was allowed to change himself, any attempt to do so would result in severe punishment, which didn’t mean the loss of TV privileges, it meant a trip over the knee and a firm spanking. The boys had to know that through their own actions they had gotten themselves in to nappies so it was going to be through wearing their nappies they would be able to get out of this punishment. They were to be left in no doubt it was a punishment and the more they fought it, the longer they would have to wear them. If their behaviour improved then perhaps more favourable attire would be found. However, if it didn’t, the threat was… they would be wearing protection into the new school term until it did. Lizzie liked these rules and wanted to take them a little further. She came up with a chart where her ‘babies’ would earn stars or spanks for being good or naughty. If they achieved a certain number of stars they were to be given a treat, if they got a certain number of crosses on the chart, then a good spanking was what they could look forward to. When no adult was around she would be in complete and total control of their lives from the moment they arrived in the morning until they were taken home again. In getting everyone to agree these terms Sandra used the same argument Lizzie had used when Billy and Dee-Dee had begun bedwetting. She suggested, quite forcefully, that to get the best results from this plan of action all parents needed to be on the same page. It was no good if, once the boys got home, the rules were changed. A united front would have a better chance of success and any weakness in one party would probably mean the undermining of the entire project. Sandra thought it only fair to those who did agree shouldn’t be destabilised by anyone who didn’t. To this end she emailed the timetable and chart info and wanted complete accord before things were finalised. She was adamant that if any parent didn’t subscribe to this ‘manifesto of action’ she’d rather they didn’t take part than disrupt the entire thing. Perhaps surprisingly, all the parents thought the scheme worth a go and decided, in relatively quick time, it was an endeavour worth pursuing. # The boys were being railroaded into something they had no say in, or knowledge about. The parameters of the ‘summer camp’ had been set without consultation on their part and so it was a done deal. They didn’t know it but with a promise that they’d be seeing their friends in the very near future, the first part of the plan was put into action. When the other three boys were sleeping their closets, just like Billy’s, were emptied and clothes removed. They had no idea what was about to happen but as they were all still wearing night time protection, because of the few bugs still running rampant in their system, the first part of their new morning ritual was underway… with relative simplicity. All the parents had been given time to prepare for this day so had already, from various sources, accrued those items needed; nappies, disposables, plastic and rubber pants, t-shirts and shorts. When they woke up each boy was greeted with a firm parent who would brook no argument. Aaron and Mitch found themselves having to eventually conform to the new dress code after a sound spanking from their fathers, whilst Dave was already in the dog house and dare not defy his mother. Like Billy he’d been acting up and had become quite an annoyance to his parents and especially his slightly younger sister who he constantly picked on. His arrogance and feeling of superiority was only brought slightly down to earth when he first filled his pants. Realising their part in letting their son get to have such an overbearing attitude his bottom had received many beatings since the start of his ‘troubles.’ He’d found fairly quickly that sympathy was in short supply when it came to an ill-disciplined boy who defied his parents. Now, with much of his haughtiness knocked out of him was fearful of more to come if he didn’t do exactly as instructed. His parents, Jean and William Thomas had been at the forefront of supporting Sandra’s plan and it had been their enthusiasm that helped get the other parents to so quickly agree. David didn’t like wearing the thick disposable and nursery print plastic pants under his cotton shorts because no matter how he tried to pull them up, they still revealed the thick padding. He was mortified when told he was going somewhere that morning but found a quick slap soon had him towing the line without any further defiance. There had been a strap which had efficiently got the message home. The over-bearing youngster was now a very timid little boy scared of doing the wrong thing. # Mitch’s parent, Anna and Douglas Baker, were far more easy-going but had come to realise that it was their free and easy attitude that had led their son to become such a self-centred and obnoxious little bastard. When he’d come down with his problem, the soaked bed being quite a surprise, they had been very sympathetic. Even when he’d filled his pants during the afternoon, they’d still been compassionate but, again like Billy, he hadn’t told them the truth. So, when they eventually found out… that benevolence ran out. He had simply been told too many times about the dangers and they realised he might influence his two younger brothers by his thoughtless action so steps had to be taken. Although the antibiotics had proved successful there were still some lingering problems. This was the reason that all the boys were still wearing protection at night as a complete recovery had yet to happen. Mitch hated wearing his protection in front of his younger brothers and was very annoyed, often threatening or hitting them, if they so much as giggled at his embarrassment. Sandra’s possible solution was the clarion call to the Bakers for them to fix something, or at least to try and make things better. It was amazing the speed in which they were soon on-board. Mitch woke up to find a nappy, thick blue rubber pants and a blue t-shirt ready for the day ahead and despite his blubbing and threats, was finally dressed for his trip. He had no idea where he was going, and didn’t like the way he was dressed but had no say in what was going to happen. The threat of a life time wearing a nappy if he acted up was enough to eventually quell his disobedience. # Aaron’s father, Steven, had taken his only son on a hiking expedition into the hilly countryside, which was something the two bonded over. Steven was a very outdoorsy type of guy and his son loved to be tramping the hills, walking the dales or camping next to a lake with him whenever he could. He was the apple of his father’s eye. They did everything together and Steven was clear about Aaron always being aware by planning ahead; explaining how to keep safe, taking precautions against inclement weather, always having the correct equipment and clothing. It was under these conditions when Aaron, miles from anywhere, but thankfully on a well-trodden track, felt the first pain in his tummy. A couple more stabs, and a few feet further on screamed in agony as his bowel gave way and filled his undies and shorts. The pain was so intense that, like Billy, he rolled around in torment as his body tried to expel everything that was in him. He rolled on the grass verge with streams of brown liquid filling the seat of his pants and dribbling down his legs. It was a mess and unfortunately one his father hadn’t thought to provide for. Under the circumstances there wasn’t an awful lot they could do. However, thankfully another passing walker, a lady pushing a pram and watching over a couple of kids, stopped to offer help. She seemed better equipped for such an accident as she produced wipes, a cloth and soothing words for the distraught boy. However, she also had a couple of large plastic rubbish bags and spare disposable nappies, which had been destined for her kids should they have an accident out in the wilds. She suggested to Steven that he strip his son out of the filth, do his best to clean him up and put him in one of the disposables until there was something better. She even fashioned a sort of plastic shirt from one of the bin bags that he could put his arms and head through so he wasn’t completely naked. The rustling walk back (his disposable and plastic sack swished together noisily with each step) was slow but mercifully uneventful as Aaron, led by his father, sorrowfully completed the trip; his eyes misted in tears so he didn’t take much notice of just how he looked. The black bin bag only reached down to his crotch so the drooping disposable could easily be seen as he and his father hesitantly manoeuvred themselves back to the car. Steven slowly led his son to the car park which was next to a large café hikers and lorry drivers used. There he was able to clean him up a little better but thought it best to get him home with some urgency. With just two miles to go before their house, Aaron had felt that pain again and filled his disposable. It did it’s best to contain as much as it could but there was a disaster on the front seat. Steven was perplexed on what was happening to his son but knew it appeared more serious than a simple gastro-intestinal upset. In the meantime Aaron’s mother Julia had discovered the wet sheets from the morning so was already on the war-path for when he returned. Once through the door the shitty little boy was in big trouble, but after a thorough clean up his mother, unprompted by anything other than preventing further mess, slipped him back into an old nappy and plastic pants. These had been left over from his ‘difficult early school problems’ so once he was well protected sent him to bed, where, apart from a trip to the doctors, he stayed, suitable encased. It was just as well as he had several terrible experiences before they were able to get the doctor to prescribe something. Meanwhile, Julia was determined that any mess would be contained with Aaron, it was his crap and was damned if it was going to interfere with the running of the household. She fortified his nappy with large thick white rubber pants so that nothing could leak and all would be held safely until time for a change. Steven was a little more sympathetic than Julia though both were unsure of the cause of his problem. His mother hated the fact that he’d tried to hide his bedwetting incident; she saw it as a lack of trust. She’d noticed other things that Aaron had done or said that later proved untrue or simply a downright lie and no longer trusted her son. Both were worried he was fast becoming a secretive liar and that wasn’t how he was brought up. So, when they found out about the boys swimming in the canal, and that they were all suffering from intestine problems that were giving them the ‘squirts’, they knew something had to be done. Word had spread between the affected parents quickly but it was ‘that Southall woman’ who, though not flavour of the month, had crystallised them together with a plan of action. No one thought the way Sandra did, but with encouragement from their friends Jean and William Thomas, and the knowledge that Aaron’s other school mates, Dave, Billy and Mitch were going to be part of this ‘experiment’, Steven and Julia were soon equally involved in the enterprise. He was made ready for ‘summer camp’ wearing very thick protection and voluminous white rubber pants, he cried, kicked and screamed and begged not to have to go as his father forcefully led him to the car. Aaron felt the humiliation grow as they headed to an unknown destination. His dad was trying to be cheerful and upbeat saying he was going to be with his friends, which didn’t help the panic that swept into Aaron’s nappy in a huge unfettered spurt. # Billy had had a very strange and fitful night. The spanking had scared and scarred him and every time he slipped into slumber he relived the powerful beating he’d endured. That was all his mind could come up with, his mother really setting his butt on fire with that awful spoon. The spoon was featuring heavily in his thoughts and dreams. Even though he’d spent the last few days desperate to be relieved of his infantile nappy, he’d woken up messy and soaked. His bottom felt sore from the spanking but, whereas before he might speak and have some attitude, he was deathly silent as his mother cleaned him up and changed him for the day ahead. He was fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing and so, without so much as a murmur, saw himself fitted into his new, daily uniform. To Billy the nappy felt thicker, his mother having added extra booster soak pads simply because he’d had such a messy night. He saw it as further punishment; she saw it as a simple precaution. However, with the heavy plastic see-thru pants covering it all… everyone could make up their own minds. He was at an all-time low. His mother’s accusatory words and heavy hand had done a great deal to knock his usual spirit. Never in all his life had he been so frightened of what was going to happen. When his father had been handcuffed in front of him and taken off to jail, it hadn’t worried him but this… this was something he hadn’t bargained for and was fearful where it might end. His normal grumbling was also very restrained as he felt the tightness hugging his groin, the t-shirt he’d been given to wear was one of Lizzies - white with a large blue smiling bear on the front. It had been one of her favourites when she was six and it fitted Billy perfectly. He’d also noticed that there was a pair of very small matching shorts, which he assumed rightly, would be to wear should he venture out anywhere. He sighed and sobbed at his predicament but that was all he could do, the threat of a severe spanking making him hold his tongue. He felt the anger build up but yet another sudden spurt of pee into his bolster soak-pad stifled any thought of an outburst. It was over an early subdued breakfast that he was informed that he would be having visitors; some of his school friends were coming over to spend some time with him. He was horrified that his mates would see him dressed like he was and began to cry. He pleaded with his mother for it not to happen but she took no notice and merely reminded him that any argument would mean a visit from ‘the spoon’… or worse. Leaving the threat there she turned her attention to her youngest. After many reassuring conversations with Dee-Dee, Sandra had partially convinced her she had no need for protection. She was sat at the table in her little pink skirt and glittery top but with no sign of her usual plastic pants peeking out from beneath. She was back, for the time being at least, to her big girl princess knickers, which of course made Billy feel even more like the baby of the family. Of course Dee-Dee and Lizzie were both on board with what their mother had planned so were very encouraging, saying, after all this time being on his own it was about time he had some friend over to play with. From the silent tears streaming down his face that didn’t look likely but he had no option. # Everyone arrived at the Southall’s within minutes of each other. The three cars unburdened themselves of their reluctant cargos as each boy stood apprehensively wearing just their t-shirts and protection, although Dave at least had a thin pair of cotton shorts covering up his thick padding. A scared and embarrassed Billy was there to ‘greet’ them dressed in his childish armour, also there in welcome was his mother and sisters. “Hi boys,” Sandra smiled, “welcome to summer camp – The Canal Boys Summer Camp – a camp designed just for those boys who take no notice of their parents to the dangers of swimming in filth.” Aaron and Billy weren’t the only ones who’d already wet because both Mitch and Dave had, thanks to nerves and unrestrainable pee, felt their nappies grow warmer during the trip over. They stood uncertainly each trying not to stare at the others thick protection but failing miserably as a feeling of dread and embarrassment filled their bodies. Their already damp nappies were joined by even more leaking piss as each wondered just exactly what their parents had signed them up to. “You can thank Billy for encouraging you all to go swimming and ending up in nappies but, as you all seemed happy to follow him in this reckless pursuit… we thought you might like to follow him with his punishment.” At this point she ran her hand over Billy’s thick protection, his hard shiny plastic pants glowing radiantly in the warm morning sun; the metal of the two huge nappy pins sparkling as if to draw attention to these items of total infantilism, his bulky fabric nappy easily discernible through the glossy plastic. Billy was surprised to see his friends dressed in much the same fashion as he was and for some reason he was both pleased and grossed out by it. However, the snarl on the faces of the other boys was definitely not one of brotherhood. ##### Part 8 Dee-Dee looked along the line of nervous eleven year-olds and marvelled at so many wearing nappies and plastic pants. She knew Billy would be wearing his protection but hadn’t appreciated that the other boys would be as well. In days gone by she might have found it amusing but now, she felt like she was missing out. Although mum had said she didn’t need protection, and Lizzie (in one of her conspiratorial moments) going further and telling her only babies like her brother needed to wear such items, she wanted back the comfort and security they offered. Of course, to begin with she’d worn because of the prank played on her by Lizzie’s nocturnal visit with her squeezy bottle. She hadn’t grasped she’d been coerced into wearing in such a devious way but, once she’d gotten used to the thickness between her legs, and saw the dramatic events that Billy had in his, she quickly adapted, afraid something similar might happen to her. Unlike Billy, she quite liked the smooth bulky plastic material and was thankful for the security it offered. However, she was in a quandary; Lizzie would encourage and discourage her both at the same time, which was very confusing. Dee-Dee didn’t know it but she was like that with Billy; one minute out to embarrass him, the next wanting to mother him. It was true, Dee-Dee didn’t need them but if she decided to wear them on a particular day, she would occasionally wet, though that was only if there was no alternative. Normally she would time things so she could get to a toilet. For her nappies weren’t a problem. In fact, the instances she had with Lizzie when being changed were fun times which she looked forward to, and, if truth be told, she quite enjoyed playing with Billy when he was wearing because he was always a lot nicer. This was something that had happened quite surreptitiously. Her brother simply hadn’t noticed that when he was only wearing a nappy and they were playing together, he not only got on with his little sister but was actually a lot more fun. Before he was put into nappies she could count the hours they’d spent playing together over the previous year on one hand, now, they spent that much time in a day. In different ways nappies were working on both of them, whether they were aware of it, that was another thing. # Even though Billy’s friends squirmed awkwardly trying to conceal as much of their padding as possible and looked less than comfortable in theirs, Dee-Dee touched her ‘big girl’ knickers and wished she’d kept her nappy on. In the past, when Billy had his friends around him he’d act like the ‘big I am’. In fact, each boy put on such a show when their mates were around. It usually fell apart if Lizzie was on the scene but when together they were a solid bunch of ‘robust noisy boys’. Billy would normally still continue to complain about the way girls ruined everything and his school friends would echo that sentiment. Now, confronted by Sandra and Lizzie, and having experienced mothers not being their usual acquiescent selves, a great transformation had happened and they weren’t sure what to do. Boisterous boys could no longer rule the roost and they’d been brought down to earth by the tiniest of things… an all but invisible bacterium. That’s what had reduced them to dependent babies who couldn’t fend for themselves and thereby restoring power back to their parents. # Each boy looked on the verge of tears, their heads bowed as Mrs Southall continued. “Elizabeth,” who I think you all know, “will be your babysit… erm… camp leader and will be in charge of all activities whilst you are here.” There was a very obvious sigh and it looked for a moment like Mitch would make a run for it. However, his father planted firm hands on his shoulder and kept him where he was. A general mumbling of dissent could be heard but ignored. “She will be telling you just how the day will pan out but first…” she looked at the parents who’d just delivered their agitated sons, “there’s a lot for you boys to get to know so… let’s waste no more time and say goodbye to your fathers so we can begin.” It was almost 8am and Sandra had to be on her way by 8.15 so was keen to move the emphasis over to her daughter. There were universal pleas for not being left with Lizzie but to no avail, both encouragement and threats were needed to get them to acquiesce. Like Sandra insisted, there was general agreement and similar action taken by each dad. The boys were reminded that they’d brought this on themselves; they had ended up in nappies because of their actions - so it would be through their actions they would be able to get out of them. This was the mantra the parents had been encouraged to use if their boy started to act up. It proved effective as they couldn’t deny their self-inflicted illness had been a nuisance and caused disruption to all concerned. The eleven year-olds were left in no doubt that this was going to happen. They had to learn about consequences, responsibility and reparations for thoughtless actions. So, for all intents and purposes their babysitter for the foreseeable future was to be the dreaded Lizzie. # Dave was the least argumentative, having already been thoroughly reprimanded he certainly didn’t want his dad to take down his nappy and spank him in front of his school friends. At present he was smarting at the childish nursery print plastic pants, which his parents had insisted on making him wear. They said it was to remind him just what a thoughtless big baby he’d been and should he even try to remove them… there would be hell to pay. He’d previously got the message to just what that payment would be. He stayed miserable but silent. However, both Mitch and Aaron were kicking up a fuss. Without so much as a warning Douglas spanked his son. Pulling down Mitch’s slinky blue plastic pants and nappy in front of everyone and laying into his bottom with a very strong hand. The squeal of pain soon brought the argument to an end and Mitch’s tears were as much from his total embarrassment as it was from stinging swats. The eleven year-old was scared and confused. He’d never been punished in his life up until that morning and now he was getting thrashed for a second time. His relationship with his father (and probably mother) had changed and was no longer allowed to back chat or do as he pleased. That was a huge change of position in the household that he thought he ruled. With each smack his father let it be known that any, and he repeated the word, ANY defiance would be similarly dealt with… and he followed up with the threat that Lizzie had the same authority should he act up or give the Southall’s any grief whatsoever. Aaron looked at his father and wanted reassurance that was not the case but his dad simply nodded and whispered that the same went for him. Aaron immediately curtailed any thoughts of insubordination smoothing down the thick padding under his own slippery waterproofing. Douglas pulled his son’s nappy and plastic pants back up over his well-tanned cheeks and a very sad Mitch cried as he was hesitantly led over to Lizzie for the rest of the day. That little display had stopped any argument from the boys as they were sullenly herded indoors for Sandra to give them instruction before she went off to work and leave them in Lizzie’s more than capable hands. # In a strange and unusual act of solidarity all the parents thought this ‘swift, sharp, shock’, as envisioned by Sandra, might be just what was needed for their wayward sons. Sandra’s generous offer took away their worry about babysitters, and the fact it also allowed them to go off for a few days with their other children or friends, was a bonus. It wasn’t quite a dumping ground but they appreciated what Sandra and Lizzie were prepared to do and because of such a proposal were easily enticed into going along with her thinking. As all the boys were still waking up to some degree of dampness they were all wearing a nappy to sleep in, so, the only thing that changed was that they now wore them all the time. When they had been on their own and at home their embarrassment was confined but now they were with their schoolmates, it was both nerve-wracking and humiliating. Something else the boys were unaware of was that their parents had already left a supply of nappies, disposables, powders, creams and plastic pants at the Southall’s place. So, as some of them had a preference between fabric and disposables, they were well catered for should there be any undue accidents or for the prescribed change times as indicated on the timetable. Billy didn’t like the fact this was being done at his house, it made it look like it was all his fault. However, at that moment, all the boys were very subdued and more than a little nervous as to what might be next. Sandra, realising it was getting late for work reinforced the fact that Lizzie was in charge and everything, both here and at home, was going to be governed by ‘the timetable’. “So,” she said with a smile, “I see it’s play time so… Lizzie if you’d be so kind… what’s first on the agenda?” “Well, normally I’d check that no one needed their nappy changed but, as you can see from the timetable, we have specific times to do that, so, unless someone needs an urgent change…” She looked around at the sad looking bunch of boys in front of her. Her confidence was riding high and she was back in a total control mode over her new charges. They shrugged even though they were all wet, no one wanted to be the first to have their nappy changed that was for sure. “No? Right Dee-Dee and I have sorted out some toys and games in the back garden if… Billy… will you lead on please?” Even though Billy’s huge white thick fluffy nappy was crammed behind a barrier of durable plastic, his huge shiny bottom led the small disgruntled group through the house. There was a slow rustling sound as they marched through to the rear garden area which had already been set out with Billy’s toys, cardboard boxes, blankets and Dee-Dee’s little paddling pool. There was a slight incline towards the rear of the lawned garden where Sandra had laid out a long piece of plastic. The idea was that the group could use it as a fun slide if they wet it. Several other areas had items that weren’t immediately apparent but Lizzie looked happy with what had been arranged for the first day. Despite the garden being fairly private, and the weather wonderfully warm with only a light breeze, the murmur of discord and an air of grumpiness surrounded the boys but they had one more thing to think about. Lizzie pointed to a large board with their names alphabetically listed on it. “You may want to take notice of this. Every day I will be adding stars and black marks reflecting your behaviour toward me, toward each other and toward anyone else who happens to be here. Good behaviour of course sees a star, bad behaviour attracts a black mark.” The boys sighed in disappointment once more but their attention was grabbed as she added. “Five stars lead to a reward… five black marks lead to you being disciplined.” She could see she had their attention now. “The reward could be anything from a treat to being able to wear something perhaps more… suitable… the discipline will not mean simply no TV… it will mean a sound, bare bottom spanking.” The boys looked at one and other in dismay. “Any attitude, dissension, fighting – verbal or physical… or general unpleasantness will be severely dealt with… immediately.” With a deadening thud she punched her palm with her fist so they’d be under no illusion just what kind of ‘discipline’ they could expect at her hands… nasty and controlling Lizzie had re-emerged. “Plus these will be seen by your parents for them to deal with you in their own way once they have you home.” Dave swallowed hard. He knew exactly what that would mean and was determined to be on his best behaviour. # The doctor’s medication appeared to have only limited success and although the diarrhoea was initially cleared up, occasionally, one of the boys would have an accident. Night time was the worst as all the boys couldn’t control their bodily functions and woke up to some degree of wetness or mess. Whatever the strain of bacteria was, it wasn’t prepared to give up without a fight. To make matters worse, Billy wasn’t sure how he could stop peeing his pants during the day as every time he thought about the problem; he seemed to add more fluid to the thick padding. This was annoying because sometimes he went quite a while without having any unexpected leaks and then ‘surprise, surprise’, found he was walking around in a damp nappy with no idea how or when it happened. The thing was, because of the see-thru plastic pants, any accidents could clearly be seen once the soaker pad had reached saturation point. This meant he was keen to get his messy nappy changed before it became too apparent. However, now his friends were here, stupidly he didn’t want to draw attention to this fact, so became reluctant to let Lizzie know, even though he’d been through this procedure many times with her already. # Dis-spiritedly the four boys involved themselves and did as Lizzie instructed. They were unsure how to react but the threat of a black mark against their name was a nagging concern. At times Billy could see the unspoken resentment in the eyes of the others as they joined in some game or other that she or Dee-Dee had organised. Of course, wearing just protection, which was on full view, also acted as a brake on any enthusiasm and they couldn’t help but feel totally inhibited under the judicious gaze of their babysitter. Although everything may have been aimed at entertaining six year-olds, with nothing better to do, and ‘encouragement’ from Lizzie, gradually the boys became less self-conscious and just got on with playing with the stuff provided. By 10am the back garden was alive with activity, although disparaging words were occasionally aimed at Billy by the others. The constant rustling of plastic pants was over shadowed by the ever-growing volume of noise four boys could generate, with the occasion scream or giggle from Dee-Dee. Lizzie had made it clear that her little sister couldn’t be excluded from joining in and so, begrudgingly, she wormed her way in to most of the games. She was having fun and whether the boys were keen or not, they were involved in making that happen. Once that initial obstacle of resentment was overcome, and probably because of the way Dave had thrown himself into at least trying to enjoy the situation, by the time milk and cookies came around they were ready for a break. Even though it wasn’t on the timetable Lizzie asked them once again if any of them needed changing and although they were still wet, they shook their collective heads and put up with the squishiness in their nappies as they sat down for the break. Billy was more nervous than he should have been. After all it was his sister, he was at home and was a sort of leader of this little troop but, and it was a big but, every time he looked at his nappy-clad friends a nervy stream of pee escaped into his own. Under these strained conditions he was soaking the material very quickly and, according to the timetable, might not be able to wait until after lunch to be changed. ######## Part 9 Thanks to Sandra’s suggestions, and particularly this group of naughty boys, the local pharmacist was doing terrific business. He’d sold things there’d been very little interest in before. Not only had she cleared him out of his supply of teenage incontinence equipment, she’d also put in orders for considerably more. His own, latent interest in the subject had been revitalised by this incredible woman who had swept into his store with ideas about how to rein in an unruly son. Mr Edward Swinton, the thirty-five year-old chemist had, off and on, been a fan of nappies himself. From an early age he’d loved the feel of the chunky material between his legs and gripping his groin. He’d gone through times when he couldn’t stop his craving to wear and he’d buy himself loads of stuff only to find that, riddled with guilt, he’d destroy it all and wish he didn’t have these ‘shameful’ impulses. However, with Sandra’s enthusiasm for using nappies as a punishment realised he could get behind that idea; he would punish himself by wearing again. Sandra’s zealous pursuit of finding a solution to Billy’s attitude had taken her beyond reason although she didn’t recognize that fact. Now that she had the chemist eagerly expressing his support for her actions, together they formulated a plan of action with the tools to deliver it. The thick fabric nappy, combined with heavy duty see-thru plastic pants had been Edward’s idea but it had been a suggestion Sandra had picked up on with delight. She could see Billy wearing them all the time and although he might be embarrassed, he’d look so darn cute. This was one of her driving forces. In her eyes, recent time in messy nappies had reduced Billy to a loving big baby. Her thoughts of when just a toddler, and just how sweet he was then, filled her head… she loved getting those times back. She and her daughters had worked hard to return Billy to those days. She was in no hurry to see him grow up. So, seeing her growing son dressed in nappy and plastic pants kept him nicely under her influence and, in her head at least, the sweet child she remembered. It was truly amazing how quickly she’d gone from a fraught and unhappy mother into a vibrant force full of energy and ideas. She felt pleased with her accomplishments and, now with the backing of other parents and Mr Swinton, she knew she could make a difference. When she brought other parents on board Edward Swinton was quick to broaden his product base so they had more options. None of them knew there was already a well-established market for ‘babyish’ items aimed at teens (and older), which he was able to rapidly access. It was amazing. Once Sandra had planted the seeds of what she planned to do with her son, and the stuff that was available to her, the other parents became fascinated. Edward had overheard one part of a conversation she was having where she postulated the thought that they might never have the chance again to ‘reclaim control and re-set the button’. He’d been very impressed by her determination, and was even further amazed when other parents called in and inspected his merchandise to see what they could use on their own kids. There were items he was unsure about, because they might lead people to suspect him of having a fetish for nappies of his own. This had been the thing that had scared him the most; other people knowing what he liked. However, now, with this Southall woman and her bizarre ideas, he was able to come to terms with his own desires. He’d never been happier. Under his smart grey trousers he wore a thick disposable with cartoon animals all over them. It felt wonderful dealing with customers whilst wriggling in their comfy embrace. Daringly he offered this design to several shoppers who thought they were just adorable. Pretty soon he had new clients who bought quite a few of his new colourful disposables, and it has to be said, more expensive designs. The childish baby print pants, which Jean Thomas had latched onto, took the shop owner by surprise. Jean had been so pleased to find them and had declared they were just the thing needed to remind her son what a stupid little kid he’d been. Meanwhile, the pharmacist had hopes that even more parents would take their teenage offspring to task and do the same for the rest of the town’s young ne’re-do-wells and keep them safely ensconced in masses of protection. He was also keen to spread the word and although he didn’t mention Sandra Southall or the other parents by name, he spoke to other customers about what these ‘individuals’ were prepared to do to keep unruly youths under control. He had visions of it not only becoming something between this handful of families but… a town wide… maybe… nationwide movement where parents regained their influence and put kids under massive restrictions. These thoughts, hopes and desires occupied his mind as he looked at the fantastic new stock that filled his store. He writhed in his plastic pants and felt the loving hug of his thick nappy. He couldn’t help it; his profits had never looked so healthy. He was enjoying wearing again and was pleased to offer such a spectacularly specialist service to everyone. So, whilst it lasted he wanted to make the most out of this ingenious scheme. # Whilst the boys lay out in the garden enjoying milk and cookies tensions were overcome as they spoke about how they ended up wearing nappies. To begin with it seemed that what was the most embarrassing thing which had ever happened to them in their life was now something to boast about as they tried to outdo one and other’s ‘messy’ story. There was a lot of laughter and many pained comments of ‘Uuurghhh’, ‘Gross’, ‘Bluuurghh’ and other such yukky noises. That is except for one. Dave was the most reluctant to give his account but when he spoke about the beatings he’d taken since that first ‘unpleasant’ accident, the others reacted in horror at the way he’d been dealt with. All agreed that the treatment they were now receiving was grossly unfair, especially as they should be out doing what kids their age should be doing in the summer break. Their illness had already eaten into the long school vacation so they were desperate not to waste any more time. Only Dave admitted feeling guilty to the nuisance and fuss he’d caused and looking down at his shiny vinyl baby pants, he burst into tears and mumbled how sorry he was to no one in particular. From the moment Jean and William had realised his mess was a self-induced problem their sympathy evaporated. Dave’s belligerent stance and off-hand reaction to his parent’s concerns was met with equal dismay, whilst they adopted a firm and unyielding approach to making him see the error of his ways. They had come down on him like a ton of bricks and that first beating was only a taster to the ones that followed. He just didn’t learn and even though his butt was glowing red continued with arrogance towards his sister and parents best described as self-destructive. What followed was a steady increase in his punishment until he got the message. It took a few days but now his lack of defiance and the fact that he is reduced to wearing a nappy showed his parents meant business. He’d hardly reacted when on arrival at the Southall’s his daddy eased down his little protecting shorts to leave him wearing just his nappy and plastic pants. He dare not argue. He dare not do anything that might irritate his parents. Embarrassing as it was, he just stood there in his nursery print pants and inwardly sobbed, grateful at least that the others were also in nappies. The world of eleven year-old David Jonathan Thomas was reduced to that of a small child waddling around in his thick juvenile clothing. At home a nappy was all he was allowed to wear because his parents treated him as a naughty, incontinent toddler. He would have to behave himself and meet their criteria before they’d let him back to being an eleven year-old. The problem… he didn’t know what that criteria was. It was Dee-Dee who saw how much pain Dave was in and it was she who shuffled over and put her arm around his shoulder in comfort. It was an action that would never have occurred to the other boys but it was one that Dave appreciated from Billy’s little sister. “Don’t cry Davey,” Dee-Dee whispered, “I like your plastic pants“. She gently stroked the slippery bulk, partly to reassure him and partly in appreciation. “I wish I had some like them…” She continued with her hug. Dave welcomed this act of compassion even though he’d have given his own younger sister hell had she attempted it, well in the past he would now he’d just have to put up with it. Of course she never would and had been most jubilant at the fall of her brother from an aggressive, loud-mouthed egotist to a whimpering and very subdued baby. She felt and acted his superior and, with the backing of his parents, relished treating him as a helpless infant. Meanwhile, as there was a break in proceedings, Lizzie realised just how much work keeping an eye on four boys was going to be, so, whilst in the kitchen organising lunch, called around to a couple of friends on her new mobile phone and invited them over. Back in the garden, and after the rotten time he’d had with his parents, this little touch of friendliness and understanding from Dee-Dee really got to Dave and he hugged her back. His friends didn’t know what was going on but thought he must be a big baby if he sought solace from a six year-old. His weepy eyes and quivering bottom lip only adding to the overall look of some little lost soul. Billy himself had over the last few days been comforted by his little sister on occasions and, even though he understood Dave’s situation, reluctantly agreed with Aaron and Mitch that, although he’d been through a rough patch, he shouldn’t let himself be seen by the rest of the ‘gang’ being consoled by a little kid. It looked weird. Eleven year-old Dave blubbing in his infantile plastic pants and being comforted by a young girl who at that moment looked far more grown up than he was. Another thing, because Lizzie had gone inside and wasn’t watching, Aaron and Mitch thought it safe enough and made mocking ‘wah-wah’ crying baby noises. Billy didn’t join in. Dee-Dee just hugged the weeping boy more and stuck her tongue out at the ridiculing couple. She really did like the sweet little nursery print pants which, because of the morning sun, were warm to touch and the fact they stretched tightly over his padding made them shine quite brightly. She looked over to Mitch, his father’s spanking now forgotten, as he nibbled the last of his cookie and continued to chat with the others. Like Davey’s, his plastic pants gleamed a very glossy blue in the sunlight and looked tightly bound around his nappy. Similarly, Aaron’s opaque white pants were strained in some places as they hugged tightly to his thick disposable. In other places they were a bit looser, which meant there was room for more padding should it be needed. All this Dee-Dee took in with just one quick searching look and for the briefest of brief moments a thought crossed her mind. It seemed strange that boys dressed in thick nappies and glowing plastic pants should have such a mean attitude to another boy similarly clad. They were acting like spoilt little brats and at that moment she felt like the only grown up around. # Although the garden was full of toys and games it had all been deliberately kept at a juvenile level. It had been Sandra’s idea that, to begin with at least, as the boys were dressed as toddlers, that should be how they were treated. So, nearly all their youthful independence was taken away as were the trappings of teen (well almost teen) paraphernalia: No bikes, no video games, no mobile phones, no Xbox, no jeans, sneakers… nothing that would give them any sense of autonomy. They would entertain themselves with their imagination and the simple, childish things provided. Meanwhile, the timetable would be what controlled their lives. Nappies and nap times were to be strictly enforced, as were regular nappy checks whether in public or private. A sopping wet boy could lead to nappy rash and that would mean more work. So, an eye had to be kept on not leaving them in such a state too long. However, thanks to her friendly pharmacist, Sandra had found a particular strong and thick ointment that once applied, kept the dampness off the skin for quite some time. She’d also found a baby powder that smelled more wonderful than Johnson’s and liked to make sure Billy was well covered in both since his new pharmacist-recommended outfit came into play. Both Sandra and Lizzie had been happily surprised when the boys arrived that their parents had already done the hard work by making sure the boys were suitably dressed. Nappy and plastic pants on a schoolboy really did reduce them to a more amenable level and the lack of bravado was a pleasure to witness. Individually the boys had been dealt with in slightly different ways but now life was going to be incredibly regimented. If they thought life was already too restrictive they were about to find that it could… and would get worse. Dee-Dee reported the mocking behaviour of Mitch and Aaron to Lizzie who didn’t even question them or take them to task. She simply picked up her black marker and put two crosses next to their names. She then put one black mark next to Billy’s. “Why’ve you done that? We ain’t done nothing…” It was Mitch who voiced his protest. Lizzie didn’t explain merely suggesting that couldn’t be the case or they wouldn’t be getting black marks. There were moans and shrugs from Mitch, who still hadn’t quite grasped that he couldn’t get away with his usual behaviour and was angry to see a third black cross added next to his name. Mitch looked daggers across at Dave and Dee-Dee who were quietly chatting to each other. Billy pulled a face at Aaron as if to say ‘I have no idea what’s going on’, who quickly seemed to find an interest in his voluminous plastic pants. He had no intention of making eye contact with Lizzie in case it resulted in another black mark. Soon Dee-Dee was collecting the empty cartons of milk and Lizzie was encouraging them to start playing together again. However, the mood had changed a bit and it took all her efforts to get a simple game of ‘piggy in the middle’ going. To start with the boys were more than a little lethargic but Lizzie simply said if they didn’t start to ‘buck up’ then further black marks would be added every 15 minutes until they did. Lizzie knew what she was doing and how her threat would work. To begin with, like when they arrived, it would take a little while to get things going. However, once they forgot why they were stalling and just playing, they’d soon be back into the swing of things. It worked. # None of the boys wanted to admit it but all of them had pretty damp nappies. Billy’s was the worst and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it began to be even more apparent as the evidence would be seen through his see-thru plastic pants. It was a good hour before lunch and the change wasn’t scheduled until after one. He knew if he left it too long he’d get in to trouble for that and also his mates would see. He nervously waddled over to Lizzie and asked for an early change. “Well Billy, I think you are being very brave to be the first of your little group to ask…” Lizzie was speaking so all could hear, “so let’s get you into a clean and dry nappy shall we?” Billy was embarrassed by her little speech but hoped that at least he’d be soon dry and that would make him feel better. However, he hadn’t bargained for what was to come. “Dee-Dee,” Lizzie called, “can you bring out the changing mat and supplies for Billy please?” Billy looked at her in disbelief. “Errmm you’re not going to change me out here… ummm… in front of my…?” He asked incredulously. “Of course,” Lizzie replied with a broad grin, “it’s such a lovely day and a bit of fresh air will do you no harm at all.” “But that’s not fair. Please take me to my room and do it… please… please…” he begged. “Don’t be silly Billy. Babies don’t care where they’re changed so nor should you.” Her implication was obvious and anxious tears formed in his eyes as Dee-Dee arrived back with a pile of supplies. Billy was desperate to get as far away from his sisters as he could but it wasn’t going to happen, he was going to be humiliated by having his nappy changed in front of his school buddies. As Lizzie had a tight grip on his wrist, he wasn’t going to be able to run anywhere soon. Dee-Dee lay out the plastic change mat and piled the fresh fabric nappies and stuffers next to the containers of anti-rash cream and powder. Lizzie was already unsnapping his thick clear plastic pants to reveal a very soaked nappy underneath. “Ohh Billy, you’re soaked… you should have mentioned it earlier…” Lizzie pretended more concern than what she intended but then a shiver ran through her body as she realised that it was her responsibility to keep her ‘babies’ dry. This real concern overpowered here pretend concern so now she was desperate to make sure Billy was quickly clean and dry and able to continue playing. It was a weird time as Billy closed his eyes in the hope that by shutting his friend out of the line of sight, he somehow would become invisible. Meanwhile, Lizzie became over protective and lavished a huge amount of cream around his nappy area before pinning him into his thick, dry terry nappy. She snapped the studs together making his nappy impregnable thanks to the solid piece of solid plastic armour and gently eased him to his feet. Meanwhile, his three friends looked on in amazement as their once leader was stripped, cleaned and re-nappied before their eyes. All of them had experienced the same activity in their own homes but somehow it seemed strange witnessing it here and now, in a garden, under the sun and with absolutely no privacy. Any thought of ridiculing Billy was swiftly forgotten when they realised that was the way they’d be changed when their time came. As Billy hadn’t made a fuss Lizzie rewarded him with the first star next to his name. She then patted his padded butt and asked if anyone else was in need of a change. The others were still nervous about any of it so were reluctant to admit sitting in their wet protection. Standing in his back garden, the sun beating down and wearing barely little more than his protection Billy felt so much better. Being the first meant his embarrassment was, to a certain extent, over and it was one less thing to worry about. Although he could feel the huge padding between his legs and the tightness that surrounded his groin, he felt safe. It was a feeling he’d begun to acknowledge every time he was put into plastic pants. That firm embrace and added dry bulk added to a strange and intoxicating sensation which made him feel light-headed and happy. What was perhaps even stranger was that when he saw he’d gotten a star next to his name a burst of pride seemed to permeate his body and he stood tall and proud… and eager for more stars. ######## Part 10 Unknown to anyone except Edward Swinton (who had come up with this subterfuge), earlier Sandra had organised a slightly ‘doctored’ strawberry mix for when Lizzie made the boys their lunchtime drink. The planned flavoursome milkshake had a couple of additives that the chemist was sure would aid the boys into nap time and help release any control over their bladders. So, without even letting Lizzie in on it, the chemist made sure the boys were very wet by the time they woke up. Despite the doctor advising Sandra from giving the boys dairy products Edward had convinced her that it was now safe for them to drink milk. He said this ‘delicious’ mix would put back vitamins and minerals that their illness had drained them of but, if things worsened, there was another special blend that could be included in juice that would also be helpful to their recovery. He, like Sandra, wanted them to observe the timetable, become reliant on their nappies and dependent on adults. He wanted them to realise the necessity for them all. Sandra had been easily swayed by the very persuasive chemist who saw it as further punishment for naughty boys, although he had no intention of telling her the truth about the yummy mix. No, this was one little aspect of the enterprise he was keeping close to his chest. The less Sandra and the other parents knew about it, the better. To Edward, it was just a little insurance to get the lads to cooperate. However, the bacteria still in their system continued to occasionally have fun at their host’s expense, so it wasn’t always necessary. Whilst the boys still wet and messed they could hardly complain about being treated as little kids… well that’s how Edward saw it. After lunch the boys had been reluctant to have a nap. Aaron grumbled about being eleven and not needing a nap but Lizzie merely pointed to the timetable and said he was obviously wrong. Eventually, she coaxed them onto various blankets set out under an awning so they could have some shade and insisted they at least rested. Davey had gone very quietly and, with Dee-Dee in tow, quickly settled himself down next to her. Billy had also gone without so much as a shrug so it was up to Lizzie’s evil stare to finally convince the other two to take their place and settle down. Despite them not being happy about it all, ultimately, and because of the heat and hectic play, Lizzie’s charges did fall asleep. She took great delight in watching over them and seeing the plastic cushion of their protection making them look like a bunch of big kindergarteners. Unaware of the chemist’s little addition to the milkshakes Lizzie was surprised at how quickly they all fell asleep. Thankfully she hadn’t had any milkshake herself although Dee-Dee had. However, it was with a sense of relief that she saw them all slowly slipping into a good long nap. She knew that maybe, apart from Billy, all the others were already soaked but that they would no doubt be even wetter once they lost any control whilst napping. Thanks to the doctored brew, she was correct. In one particular quiet moment she could hear the faint noise of pee meeting an already soaked nappy. The way Aaron was squirming, together with a look of sleepy satisfaction on his face; she assumed it must have been him. Of course, throughout their nap all the boys had added a fresh reservoir of pee to their padding. Unbeknownst to Dee-Dee she had also wet her knickers. Resting amongst the other boys made it apparent just how small Billy was. His three friends seemed to have grown and looked ungainly wearing their protection, whilst on Billy it didn’t look out of place at all. In fact, if he’d been lying next to Dee-Dee he would have looked nearer her age than his friends. Lizzie wondered if he was still their ‘leader’ or if that position didn’t exist now they all had to wear nappies. There was something else that perhaps went unnoticed by the small group of boys and that was Billy actually whispered a ‘Thank you’ to Lizzie after she’d changed him. Of course he’d thanked her in the past, his mother had insisted that he maintain his manners (under threat of a spanking), but now he’d done it without thinking in front of his mates. It was a very subtle change in his behaviour. # Whilst the boys slept a couple of Lizzie’s friends came over to see exactly what it was she was up to. She’d already sketched an outline of her ‘babysitting’ job for the summer but now it was a reality, her school mates wanted to see that she wasn’t exaggerating. Fifteen year-old Nancy had brought her little sister, six year-old Beth along to play with Dee-Dee and Shilpha, a mischievous, but the most beautiful girl in tenth grade, stared at the slumbering boys in disbelief. Both girls took out their mobile phones and started taking photos. Never had they seen anything quite so disconcerting, yet unbelievably adorable. The girls smiled as Lizzie told them why they had been reduced to wearing nothing but protection and both visitors wished it was their overbearing brothers who were on the receiving end of such a fate. However, four well-padded eleven year-olds snoozing away was more than enough for them to want to be involved in Lizzie’s business. Nancy had been friends with Lizzie since they started school together but Shilpha had been a surprising addition to their slowly expanding gang. It was said that Shilpha’s mother had been some kind of Miss India in her youth and, judging by the fine bone structure and dusky complexion of her daughter, that wasn’t difficult to believe. However, once Shilpha was relieved from the shackles of Asian home-life, she tended to immerse herself in rebelling at school in the only way she could. Her grades were high, she looked stunning but needed something as an edge and found she got that by being in the company of the very ‘outrageous’ Lizzie. Nancy and Lizzie were similar spirits and quite happy to take on the boys at their own game, whereas, Shilpha was far more astute. Boys, and many teachers, were in awe of her beauty, whilst her demure deportment and low voice, big eyes and shy smile were all used to great effect in deflecting suspicion away from the things she did. If the truth was known, Shilpha was far more cunning than Lizzie, whereas Lizzie was simply confrontational and angry. Lizzie explained about the timetable and how all of them were under a strict regime that meant specific times for what they could do, where they could go and what would happen to them. The girls thought it was a wonderful idea and hoped it worked and when they were told that nap time was almost over they became quite animated. Noting the timetable, and the fact that Lizzie was already organising a small pile of materials for each boy in preparation, they expressed a desire to help with the changes. Their friend could think of no good reason, as both had younger siblings whom they had changed at some time or other, for them not to be involved. # Dee-Dee was the first up, gently shaken by Beth who wanted to play. It took a few moments for her to get her bearing’s but then realised that she’d actually wet herself whilst napping. She knew she should have worn a nappy and now it was too late. Angrily she went inside, cleaned herself up and because Beth was waiting changed into another pair of nylon knickers. However, she decided that in future she’d wear protection like the boys, she hated the thought of waking up and seeing she’d peed everywhere. She and Beth collected a couple of dolls from her room and took them outside to play. Dee-Dee’s visitor asked why Billy and his friends were dressed as babies. “They’ve all been very naughty,” she whispered, “which made them wet themselves. So… now… they have to wear…” She indicated their puffy plastic pants. “Oh… I haven’t worn a nappy since I was two.” She said proudly. “I don’t mind,” Dee-Dee said with a shrug. Beth didn’t really understand what her friend was saying so they just went and found a spot in the sun slightly away from the sleeping gang, and began a game with their dollies. # Aaron was the first of the boys to wake up, surprised that he’d actually fallen asleep and feeling a finger poking at the front of his nappy. It took a couple of seconds to realise it was Lizzie checking on just how wet he was, so it was with alarm that he swatted her hand away at the same instant he saw the other grinning girls. “Hey… what’s going on?” “Well sweetie, you’re soaking wet and it’s time for a nappy change.” Lizzie smiled sweetly and inferred he should lie out and let her get on with it. “But, but, ermmm… I can do it myself…” Then through gritted teeth added, “I don’t need a fucking audience.” The girls crowded around as Lizzie placed her hand firmly on his chest. “You don’t get to make that decision and what did your parents say about arguing with me.” Her fiery stare made Aaron gulp but he wasn’t done protesting. He knew who these other girls were. He knew them from school but most of all he didn’t like the fact that Shilpha, the most stunning girl in school (and possibly the world), was inspecting him wearing a nappy - a soaked nappy at that. Once again Lizzie tried to grip the top of his bloated plastic pants but he wasn’t having it. “There’s no fucking way I’m getting my nap… er, ummm, no way is this going to happen with people watching.” And he gripped defensively onto his shiny pants. Meanwhile, the others began to come round from their nap. They were also stunned to see that Lizzie’s friends had arrived, which made them try to conceal their own bloated protection. Meanwhile, they watched the proceedings with Aaron intently. “Hey, what’s going on?” Voiced a suspicious sounding Dave. “My friends are here to help.” “But, but, errrmmm… what… ummm…” # Whatever it was that Dave wanted to say didn’t make it out as he watched Lizzie get up and put three more black marks against Aaron’s name. “That makes five Aaron and you know what happens when you reach that number don’t you?” This time Lizzie fixed him with a steely stare. He certainly didn’t want a spanking now, in front of these girls or for that matter in front of his friends. “Look,” he said trying to appeal to her, “I was taken by surprise that’s all but, no one said that there’d be other people involved… er… can’t I just…” Lizzie stood towering over him and repeated. “Babies don’t get to decide when and where they’re changed, as long as it’s by a responsible adult and, as far as you’re concerned,” she emphasised the word, “my friends are way more adult than any of you.” She stared intimidatingly at the small but worried looking group of boys almost daring them to argue. All she could really see were a group of eleven year-olds trying desperately to hide their swollen protection from her friends. “You’re all soaking wet.” She wasn’t prepared to take any nonsense from them, nor was she willing to have her authority flouted in front of her mates. “As you can see from the timetable, it’s time to change your sodden nappies… and that’s just what’s going to happen.” Meanwhile, she called Dee-Dee over who had been quietly playing with Beth and whispered something, which sent her off into the house. Lizzie was in her element now she could bully and scare kids and immediately saw how the boys adopted defensive rather than aggressive positions. They were all scared and the initial bluster had quietened down to just discontented mumblings. “Aaron you’ll be first, you’re very saturated and if we leave it you’ll get a rash and neither you nor your parents will be pleased about that. Now stop fussing like a two year-old.” He tried to scramble away but with a nod from Lizzie her two girlfriends grabbed an arm each and pinned him down. She sat on his legs and immediately pulled his plastic pants down his wriggling legs. He was pleading with her to stop and was surprised at how strong the girls were as they held him firm despite his squirming body. “Please, please… PLEASE…” Aaron pleaded but his shiny pants were already resting down by his ankles and Lizzie was pulling away at the tapes. “Stop fidgeting you silly boy… the sooner we get this done the sooner you’ll be able to go and play.” She made it sound like he was a tot throwing a tantrum over nothing. “You can’t stay in something this wet you’ll get a terrible rash. Now stop it” She added firmly. She pulled away the sodden disposable, which in truth wouldn’t have lasted another wetting, and revealed his genitals. Aaron, embarrassed, was crying now and had his eyes tightly closed hoping that the humiliation would soon be over. What he missed was the arrival back of Dee-Dee armed with her mother’s ‘spanking spoon’. Pinned down by the girls he’d more or less given up trying to stop what was happening. In so doing he relaxed slightly and Lizzie took the opportunity to climb off his legs and pull his feet back over his head. This made his naked bottom an easy target for what was to come next. Six swift smacks with the wooden spoon soon had Aaron screaming in agony. He’d been surprised by this action and couldn’t defend himself at all. The other boys looked on in horror but Lizzie made sure he was aware that swearing, arguing and being none cooperative was definitely something to be avoided. The other’s shook with fear. Up until then the black marks had only been a threat now they could see (and hear) that it was more than that. A shiver of realisation swept through them all and that prompted yet more pee to spurt into their already waterlogged nappies. # Aaron’s sobbing took on an ethereal, hopeless tone as Lizzie spread on the thick ointment and showered him with baby powder. Huge sighs of resignation accompanied the rustling as she unfolded his clean disposable. To Aaron’s and the rest of the boy’s surprise, she made a few slashes in it and lay it down. Then she unfurled a second one and inserted the slashed to make it double thick. The girls still held his arms tightly and were doing their best not to find the whole thing amusing but a sneaky snigger escaped Nancy, which set of Shilpha so that both were enjoying Aaron’s predicament far too much. He didn’t want to show how upset he was, or that their ridicule had got to him but his eyes weld up and a huge wail of desolation could be heard as Lizzie slipped back up his slippery plastic pants. Lizzie admonished her friends and their chuckling ceased. She held Aaron in her arms and gently tried to placate the traumatised boy. “There, there sweetheart,” she said with gentleness and understanding. The sympathetic Lizzie had returned. “It’s all over and you’ll feel a lot better now you’re in something dry.” She hugged him and rocked him patting his naked legs for a couple of moments before he struggled to get away. “OK Aaron, you go off and play whilst I get these other wet tykes into something drier.” Nancy, Shilpha, do you think you could sort Mitch and Billy out while I see to Davey?” They both nodded. # Although all three of the boys were terrified by this new situation none of them dare object after witnessing what happened to Aaron. So, despite the fact that they squirmed and resisted as much as possible, without actually putting up a fight, they let themselves be changed. Mitch closed his eyes and pretended it was his mum doing the business. Nancy was thorough, whilst also enjoying the situation of making an eleven year-old boy ill at ease, she spent a little bit too much time rubbing in the ointment around his genitals. Once he got a stiffy she seemed pleased and that was her signal to make sure he was wrapped, frustrated, in his thick, well bolstered fabric nappy. She enjoyed seeing his excited boy parts being hidden behind such thick padding and took great delight in fastening the huge pins to hold him snugly. She wished she could do that to all the males in her life – brothers, annoying cousins and every boy at school. As she pulled up his blue plastic pants and smoothed them into place she just loved the way the silky bulge removed any indication of his genitalia. He was now, for all intents and purposes, a sexless little boy and she couldn’t have been happier. Satisfied with her work, she patted his cushioned bum and told him he could now go off and play. Lizzie looked across at a job well done and without any argument or dissent from Nancy’s victim. “Well done Mitch,” she nodded at him in validation. “I think we can put a star next to your name.” Despite the fact he thought it was beneath him to react, he was feeling pretty pleased with himself for receiving a star after the miserable start to the day. That soaked, hanging nappy had been a pain, even if he was loathed to admit it. The truth was, now he was dry he felt a lot happier. # Shilpha eyed Billy who was looking both anxious and shy. The school’s most beautiful girl was about to change him so he was caught on the horns of a dilemma. Part of him was pleased she was going to be changing him, whilst another part thought that was the only way she’d ever look at him in the future – a baby, in a wet nappy, needing help. Even though she’d changed him lots recently he knew he couldn’t ask Lizzie to do it, it would be a huge insult to Shilpha and he simply dare not offend her. Obviously his sister was playing a game with him, perhaps trying to make sure he felt embarrassed, but he desperately wanted this divine girl to like him so decided not to put up any objection. He smiled weakly as the ever efficient ‘Indian goddess’ indicated a space next to her. An appropriate pile of nappies and stuffers were nearby as were the lotions and powders needed. Nervously Billy lay down and she started to undo the snaps down each side of his thick robust pants. “These look splendid,” Shilpha’s eyes went large as if sharing a secret. “Like a Knight’s armour… only better… and slinkier.” Billy’s heart raced from such praise from this incredible young woman, whilst at the same time worrying she’d change her mind once the results of his soaked nappy were observed. It was a surprise that once the snaps were released his nappy seemed to expand and bulge out, it was a wonder so much wet fabric could have been so easily contained. Although she loved the fact that Billy was under her control and his naked little body was hers to do with as she felt fit, she wanted to do this first change correctly. She thought she herself mi9ght be embarrassed to begin with but watching Nancy and Lizzie just jump straight in had given her even more confidence. “My you are a wet little boy,” she smiled down at her responsibility. Billy didn’t like being called ‘little’ but smiled back as sweetly and as innocently as he could. “No wonder your mummy needs to keep you in nappies.” Of course no one knew that the reason for such a soaking was the ‘modified’ milkshake that had lessened their control. It was a miracle that he hadn’t leaked, although he looked over at Davey and saw he was having problems with Lizzie. # Whilst Davey had slept, happily hugging onto Dee-Dee, the potent mix had got to work and in a strange act of co-operation with the bacteria in his system, had made for a completely unintentional and oblivious mess to deposit itself in his protection. When he slowly returned to consciousness, having slept really heavily, and finding his little partner now playing with someone her own age, he tried to pretend he was still asleep whilst the Aaron business was going on around him. Eventually, he had to take notice but he guiltily knew what was residing in his nappy and was scared of what everyone would say when it came his turn to be changed. He was quite grateful that it was Lizzie who was going to do the duty, as he wouldn’t have been able to cope with his embarrassment if it was either of her friends. As it was, he was more than a little anxious as to what Lizzie might say and the thought of a messy, stinking nappy being available for all to see (and ridicule) left him a very sad and worried little boy indeed. When it came to his turn and Lizzie had patted the change mat by her side for him to take his place, he nervously toddled over and very quietly whispered in her ear. “Sorry Lizzie but I’m afraid… erm… ummm… I’ve…” He let out a heavy sigh almost unable to say the words. Of course he’d messed himself at home and that often was followed by a spanking, but at least he was changed from his smelly nappy quickly. Now, although he wanted out of it equally speedily, he was shy of the others seeing. “Ummm, would it be poss… er… can you… ermmmm…” He knew he’d after admit to what he’d done even though he was sure Lizzie knew what the problem was. “I’ve messed my pants, umm, do you think I could be changed in… erm… um… private… PLEASE?” Lizzie did have some sympathy for him; he’d been the model member at the ‘summer camp’ throwing himself into the games, involving Dee-Dee and not protesting at all. But, and this was the main thing Lizzie thought, if she showed favouritism and allowed his request, that would be unfair on the others and also set a precedent she didn’t want. “I’m sorry Davey. I can see why you might want that to happen but I suspect that we might have quite a lot of these little accidents so I need to set the way things are done so no one is in any doubt.” She could see the tears bubbling up and his quiet pleading didn’t have the reaction he desired. “Look, don’t worry. Like Billy was the first to have his nappy changed you just happen to be the first to have a messy nappy changed… you’re a pioneer, an episode of Star Trek - Bravely Going Where No Man Has Gone Before – don’t worry, no one will think anything bad about you. I’m sure they’ve all had a stinky bottom recently so they’ve nothing to feel superior about…” She left it there as she slowly pulled down his nursery print pants and set about cleaning the poor distraught and embarrassed boy. He had the urge to cling on as he felt them being tugged down but knew from experience that way led to a red bottom so, reluctantly, let Lizzie do her thing. The other three boys had been changed and sent off to play so unfortunately Davey was now surrounded by all three older girls (Beth and Dee-dee were playing with some dolls on the lawn far away) so became the focus of their attention. Lizzie hadn’t realised just how her hormones were swinging her moods – one minute evil and out to embarrass, the next quiet and understanding. The girls pressed around Davey as he, like all the other, screwed his eyes tightly closed and hoped that would make him invisible. Nancy passed Lizzie the ointment and powder when needed, whilst Shilpha unravelled a new and rather sweet disposable. Dave’s mother had left a whole stack of new but very juvenile disposables for him to wear whilst at the Southall’s. They were snug fitting and had little bears all over them which faded once he was wet. She’d also made sure her ‘little boy’ was well padded by including a mass of thick soaker pads to be included under the nappy. The girls were all very encouraging but still spoke to him as if he was a three year-old. Telling him what a good boy he was and how brave he was being and such stuff. Davey could have quite happily died. #### Part 11 Now that first communal change was out of the way Lizzie was of the opinion, which she shared with the other girls, that all a boy needed to feel good about himself was a dry nappy. Her friends sniggered in agreement. She’d been in her element, controlling and capable and, after dealing with Aaron’s little rebellion, pleased at just how quickly the other boys came to heel. But things were changing… again… and not just nappies. Once the boy’s wet padding was transformed to dry, and with their obvious embarrassment behind them, they seemed a little more at ease. Whereas Billy and Dave had been fairly quick to realise they had little option, it was now dawning on Mitch and Aaron that this was how things were going to be from now on… or until their parents had a massive re-think. Although they’d been terrified of others seeing them dressed in such a fashion, now they were all together it didn’t seem too bad. As the boys were all in the same boat, reduced to wearing protection and nothing else, it was amazing just how quickly they began to accept the situation. Any thought of rebellion from this small group of heavily nappied boys was already fading as they saw the inevitability of what was going on around them. With their parents all of a similar mind and nowhere they’d feel safe running off to, ‘summer camp’ was all they had. Yes, they’d hated being changed by strangers but had to swallow any pride (and modesty) because they simply had no choice. The way Lizzie had dealt with Aaron had chastened them all and the fact that these girls were a lot stronger than they appeared had come as a surprise; tantrums and acting tough were not the answer. Lizzie had certainly surrounded herself with friends who weren’t to be messed with and could hold their own in any fight – all three were quite formidable. The feelings of awkwardness around each other was gradually disappearing and the fact that they’d all soaked their nappies whilst napping had made it a level playing field for humiliation. Even Dave’s messy one had been dealt with without so much as a scrunched up nose by the rest of the gang. They’d all been in a similar situation over the past few days. # Dee-Dee had gone off to play more with Beth so Dave had to join in with the lads. He was still very sheepish but Billy made that extra effort to make him feel he wasn’t alone. “I think Aaron and Mitch think there’s a way out of this…” Billy indicated his plastic pants to a nodding Dave. “I’m not so sure as I’ve never seen mum, or Lizzie for that matter, more intent on anything.” Dave’s constantly weepy-looking eyes and submissive shrug meant he understood. He should do as he and Billy had definitely suffered the worst retribution for their misdemeanours. With very powerful and unyielding females taking the lead they really had little alternative but to do as directed if worse wasn’t to follow. Once all the boys had been changed and were back together in their small group it was Dave who quietly suggested that to get through this punishment without too much aggravation, perhaps it would be best to cooperate. Although there were murmurs of discontent he pointed out that whilst all their parents were ardently supportive of what was happening, without making matters worse, they were in no position to defy anyone. “But it’s just fucking ridiculous.” Mitch hissed through his teeth, aware he didn’t want the girls to hear him cussing. “I’m not going to let them do this to me… it’s not right… it’s illegal… I’m….” He saw Nancy looking suspiciously over at him so immediately stopped his quiet, if intense tirade. The heat from Aaron’s spanked bottom was just beginning to ease so although he agreed with his friend, he didn’t want to take up the fight. Dave countered the argument saying that someone else changing their nappies was better than wondering around in a messy one and, after what had happened to Aaron, his contention was: did they really want to continually get spanked? He was of the opinion they should just suck it up and try to get through the ordeal as quickly as possible and, more importantly, with the least amount of physical abuse. Although there was no bright side to their situation he did also advance that it could be worse – at least they were together in private and not out where anyone could see them. So, perhaps for the sake of just getting through it all, they should knuckle down and do just that. A nappy wasn’t so bad, was it? However, sniggering and baby talk from the girls had set them on edge so they wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. # This wasn’t going to be that easy because, almost immediately, the girls were enjoying their incredible power so were constantly checking for wet nappies. According to the timetable they had no intention of changing them (unless they’d messed) but were happy to make the boys feel uncomfortable, which they succeeded in so doing. Despite this attention soon the boys were playing a game of Shilpha’s suggestion and the girls were joining in. Even Beth and Dee-Dee abandoned their dolls so they could be involved. What they were all unaware of was the pharmacist’s contribution and just how keen he was in spreading this new punishment inspired ideology. The drink they’d had at lunchtime had released a chemical which was still in their system; it hadn’t all been peed out during naptime. It was Dee-Dee who wet her knickers first. Without any warning she suddenly found pee streaming down her legs. She had no control and was extremely embarrassed by what was happening. She stood, horrified to the spot as her socks, as well as her knickers became completely sodden by the sudden flow. Beth looked on in astonishment as her friend lost control and burst into tears. Dee-Dee had no idea why she wet but it was one of the reasons she’d been wearing her own protection in the past, to prevent such a calamity. She’d seen it happen to Billy in those early days and it had scared her into believing the best prevention was protection. Now, and for no reason, it had happened, in front of her friend and this group of well-padded boys. She rushed off red-faced back to her own room with Lizzie in pursuit. # The pharmacist, Edward Swinton had big ideas. He’d loved Sandra’s suggestion of the ‘Summer Camp’ for naughty or rebellious children and was letting this idea percolate amongst some of his new customers. He realised that the long break meant many arguments and disruption in families with parents and children at odds. Determined to make as much money out of this idea as possible he launched an online chat group discussing such things as – disruptive children, punishment, regressive behaviour and a host of other thoughts. He added a ‘What If’ feature, where he set out, without naming any such programme existed, the very things Sandra was doing with her unruly son and his friends. It was soon obvious that had Sandra launched her idea citywide she would have been swamped by the response, many of the respondents to the feature begging for such a ‘Summer Camp’ to exist. Some desperate for a place to unload their troublesome offspring, even if that meant them spending the entire break in nappies. If Sandra wasn’t going to take up this golden opportunity Edward was of the opinion that where there was a market, a fortune could be made so had every intention, one way or another, to make this ‘rehabilitating’ concept available to all. # Meanwhile, the mad summer break that all of them, in some form or other, had hoped for only a short time ago was now a different prospect. Lizzie had been grateful for what had happened. It was her scheme to have her brother and sister in nappies after all, but, even she was surprised at how intense it had gotten and so soon. She was actually indebted that on this first day, her friends had arrived to help (take the piss?) only to find they had so quickly got involved. The girls were part of a little clique at school which had Lizzie at its head; an already highly intelligent group who knew how to control situations way above their age definition. They had succeeded in doing so both at home and at school, often without the target being any the wiser after the event. Smart, informed, enthusiastic, adaptable but ultra-confident in their abilities to manipulate most situations to their own ends… they were more than a little intimidating. Lizzie was confident that her friends would enjoy the process of taking a group of pubescent boys back to babyhood if for no other reason it would help alleviate the boring bits of a long summer holiday. Perceptions were changing almost by the minute. What was fun and humiliating one moment was something to be cherished and protected the next. All those involved were amazed at how Sandra’s idea, and the execution of that idea, affected each of them. For some it would be the beginning of a completely new way of life, whilst for others it would point to a different direction to the one they were planning. All the girls were growing up and with that came a change in their hormonal make-up so, it might not have been as drastic a change as it appeared. Surprisingly, none of the girls realised the changes that were going on with each other and, not dissimilar to the boy’s attitude, kept these minor personal revelations to themselves. # Within twenty minutes of each other all the boys had wet their nappies again. None knew it was their ‘special’ lunchtime drink to blame but all could now feel that same drink sloshing warmly around their genitals. As if a pact had been drawn up, none of them said a word, although each had suddenly felt a slight pang in their bladder before the deluge. As they were embarrassed about wetting themselves so soon after being changed the boys kept quiet and carried on as if nothing had happened. Stupidly, they didn’t realise their plastic protection tightened around the expanding mass underneath so when Lizzie returned, with her well-padded sister, she took one look and ordered them to line up in front of her. Dee-Dee felt a lot better now she was dry and well protected. Beth, who could now see with her own eyes, the amount of padding her friend was wearing thought she looked like a big toddler. Dee-Dee didn’t mind the comment; she was just grateful that Lizzie had given in and let her wear her insurance in case it happened again. Beth stroked the slippery plastic cover and marvelled at the thickness underneath but other than that, they simply got on playing together. Although, at the back of the visiting six year-old’s mind she wondered if she might need similar treatment. She didn’t want it, she was a big girl, but her friend looked so happy so it was inevitable her mind should ponder the prospect. Meanwhile, the boys didn’t want to go through the embarrassment again. Lizzie was quite happy to leave them until their nappies were even more soaked but Shilpha argued that it was ‘unkind’ to leave them like that, especially as nappy rash was a real possibility. She explained how her younger brother and sister had problems because of being left for too long. Off course none of this was true she just wanted to make her case so that they could change the boys again and watch them squirm in humiliation as they got to work. She got her way. There was a mumble of discontent from some whilst others, Dave and Billy, just went ahead and let themselves be changed. This time it was a different girl who saw to their needs. # Over the last few days there had been a definite change in Billy’s attitude to what he was being subjected to. Whether this was some mental appreciation of his involvement in it all, or he had simply been beaten down??? Now there was no argument, just simple acquiescence. It was no longer purely Billy’s fault. His lifetime’s rejection of any female authority and his fight to prove his own predominance had, in such a short time, been crushed. The bugs in the stomach, the sodden nappies and his childish outbursts had proved he needed his mummy, Lizzie and to a certain extent Dee-Dee, more than he would ever have previously acknowledged. When he was at his lowest, it was they who had tended keeping him clean and dry and now, well now, he just thought it was the way it ought to be. He was no longer the leader of his little band of eleven year-old tough guys, he’d become what his mother and sisters had intended, their little, cooperative, baby boy. The humiliation just wasn’t there anymore. It wasn’t so much he liked it or approved of it; it was just the way things had turned out. It was what it was and his thick nappy and sheer plastic pants merely emphasised that simple fact. Rebellion, anger and frustration had got him nowhere but now, as he slid his hands over the bulky shiny protection, he had to admit - he didn’t have to fight any more. Dave of course had been beaten into submission so he wasn’t going to fight what course of action others decided. He knew conflict was a bad and very painful cause to pursue. Both were changed efficiently but had to bear the childish baby talk the girls inflicted on them (and between themselves) as the jobs were undertaken. “Whose little pee-pee needs a good wash?” “Who needs his plastic panties then… mmm?” “Who’s a good boy? Yes he is, yes he is.” “Where’s that sweet little Davey? There he is.” Plus an assortment of other such infantile comments directed at them didn’t raise so much as a frown. In fact, it has to be said that both Dave and Billy had nervously giggled throughout and seemed not to care any more about whom did what, why, when or how. # Nancy had taken to Billy and admired his thick protection. She, like Shilpha, thought he looked adorable. With him being so much smaller than the others, his babyish style of dress only emphasised just how cute he looked. She reflected on how much it suited him and wondered why Lizzie had complained about her noisy and annoying brother in the past. He was a little sweetie and looked every inch as if he should be wrapped in protection on a permanent basis. She enjoyed the process of fitting a clean and dry, but well-padded, nappy in place, tickling his tummy and repeating her puerile cooing as she did so. She only wished she had a dummy or a teddy to give him to play with. Perhaps on her next visit she’d bring a few extra things that might keep her… him amused. Shilpha had taken to Davey. Out of the four boys he had the aura and façade of a mistreated street urchin. Not that he was dirty or anything, it was just his big brown eyes and worried expression made him a particularly sensitive looking character. Shilpha loved having complete authority over this eleven year old; to be able to wipe his naked body clean, smear in the various protecting creams and lotions and apply powder to his badly striped bottom (the painful process of how he got to be so subservient was still pretty obvious) made her feel sorry for him. She paid attention to his well-disciplined bottom, making sure the correct rejuvenating and antiseptic cream was applied to those tender looking bruises. Not that she would ever admit it because despite the girls having all the power, and loving that power, she was more sympathetic than she thought she’d be. Now the reality of them being treated as babies and the work that involved, the actual embarrassment quotient was not quite as important. Perhaps it was their total vulnerability, and now she was charged with care of that vulnerability, it had somehow changed her perceptions. # “Mitch, Aaron,” Lizzie said in a very authoritative voice. “I don’t want to put any more black marks against your names today but, if you don’t come over here immediately I shall have no alternative.” She peered over at Aaron with a concerned look. “I’m sure your daddy… and mummy,” she made it sound very childish, “will not be happy to see that you were the only one of the group to get so may black marks. I’d hate to think what they’ll do…” She left that threat hanging there just long enough for Aaron to move over and lay out on the changing mat in front of her. “That’s better. Just do as you are told and everything will go well.” She swept her hand over the boys. “I don’t want to have to remind anyone again.” Whatever comments were going through the boy’s minds at that moment can only be guessed because no one said a word. “Unless of course you prefer a soggy nappy and enjoy walking around in your own wee.” As the boys wriggled uncertainly, she seemed satisfied at her comments. “We’re here to help keep you clean and dry so it’s in your best interest to cooperate fully. Do you understand?” They may have been reluctant to reply but she wanted them to admit who was in charge. Eventually she got a “Yes Lizzie” from all of them. # The rest of the afternoon of this first day passed off without any further disruptions. In fact, Summer Camp was all going relatively brilliantly so when the first parent arrived, Aaron’s mum Julia, to take her boy home, she was intrigued to watch for a few moments as her son was smiling and having a pretend tea party with the rest of the group. It had been a little game that Beth had suggested and so as to keep on Lizzie (and the black marks) good side, all of them had indulged the six year-old. The problem was the older girls were enjoying the silliness of the situation. They all adopted snooty accents pretending they were aristocracy and looking down on the riff-raff before them. The thing was, despite everything, it was all very funny and some of the comments were hilarious and had the boys rolling around in hysterics. It was a great game, which everyone was having fun with. The thick padding and rustling plastic pants had all but been forgotten as laughter filled the air. It was strange because, the humiliation the older girls had wanted to instil in the boys had also taken a place on the back-burner. Although they were definitely in charge, they were enjoying the occasion as much as the boys were doing. Even their constant inspection didn’t seem to be an intrusion any more. In fact, the boys appeared to like the girls running their hands over the smooth plastic and slipping fingers inside to check. Well, that is except for Mitch who was still a little apprehensive about the entire thing. As soon as Aaron saw his mother watching he froze. He didn’t want his parents to think he was enjoying the situation and was holding secret thoughts that perhaps, on the drive home, he could convince them to exact another, different punishment. “Don’t stop sweetie,” she called out to her suddenly sullen looking boy. “I have to speak to Lizzie so you finish your game first.” She smiled and waved him on as Lizzie and her broke away from the others for a chat. Aaron looked scared. He’d been disciplined by Lizzie and he knew what that meant, he’d been told enough times. He saw his mother look over as she spoke to Lizzie and her expression change from one of happiness to one of disappointment. # “I’m afraid Mrs Carter that to begin with Aaron didn’t settle in very well. He accrued several black marks for his attitude and swearing and I had to take action. I spanked him.” Mrs Carter just nodded and looked over at her son. “I have to say that after that incident he, and the rest of the boys, calmed down and although he wet at nap time, which was expected, he’s been as good as gold since.” Lizzie finished her update with a reassuring smile but it was obvious that Aaron’s mother had other thoughts in her head. “He calmed down once he’d been disciplined you say?” “Yes ma’am. He was very well behaved.” “OK, his father and I will see that he is no further trouble to you, erm, girls… er… I didn’t know others would be involved…” “Oh yes. The Summer Camp has a few of my friends volunteering to help and it seems that the boys have reacted well to them.” “Ohh I see.” Lizzie wasn’t exactly lying but it also wasn’t quite the truth. “Yes, we’re all excited about the weeks ahead.” Julia nodded and gave her a weak smile. “OK Aaron, time to go. Say good bye to your friends and thank the girls for looking out for you.” Nervously he got up and made his way over to his mother. His nappy was soaked and the plastic covering bloated out. Oddly, he’d peed in his nappy the moment she had arrived and he could tell from her current expression she was not happy with him. Perhaps he wouldn’t mention a different punishment until he was home and his dad was around. In silence they set off. As Aaron wriggled uncertainly in his squishy nappy his mother was glad she had pinned up the timetable on the fridge and his bedroom door. She was determined that he would obey each and every bit of what was set down and, after his 7pm bath, his bottom would be that teaching pad. # Lizzie saw her mother arrive and greeted her with a hug. “How’s it all gone sweetheart?” Lizzie smiled. “Not bad for a first day…” They walked over to where the rest of the group were still playing and Sandra looked down on the array of shiny rubber pants. The three remaining boys looking in a much better mood than when she left them and marvelled at how Shilpha and Nancy had got involved. The smiles on everyone’s face told her it was a job well executed and as she thought this, Billy ran over to give her a huge loving hug. “Mummeee.” Dee-Dee followed and said, almost mimicking her brother. “Mummy.” Sandra patted both their padded, silky bottoms and kissed the top of their heads. Mitch and Davey looked up and nervously grinned. “Hello Mrs Southall.” They chorused. They were obviously still a little embarrassed by their predicament but appeared to be simply getting on with making the most out of their situation. Besides that, the girls were keeping them occupied and they didn’t want to disappoint them. Sandra nodded to her eldest. “Well you seem to have everything under control, well done sweetheart.” Lizzie shared the secret of her success with her mother as she whispered. “All a baby really needs to be happy is a dry nappy”. Sandra raised her eyebrows. “Ohh, and a strict routine… just so they know there are limits.” Lizzie added. Sandra patted her son’s and daughter’s padded bottoms once more and sent them back to play with the others. Billy’s thick plastic pants identifying his ‘little boy’ status and even the bigger boys appeared to have accepted much of their punishment, crawling around on hands and knees wearing just their thick protection. The entire scene of grown up girls and juvenile boys playing together filled her full of pride. She sighed in satisfaction. She hoped it wouldn’t be too long before the girls, Lizzie’s team (she smiled at the thought), would soon be leading the small group of contrite boys on outings into town and beyond. She didn’t want them cooped up in the house and garden for the rest of the school break, that wouldn’t be fair. She also had an idea that they might not be too keen on being out and about wearing nappies. However, the way things were going, it wouldn’t be too long before the boys realised they didn’t get a say in proceedings and conceded their eleven year-old lives were a thing of the past. A feeling of accomplishment swept through her body. She had been right to do what she’d done and, with the continued help of Lizzie and her friends... and the other boy's parents, knew the boys were in firm but understanding hands. Nappies and plastic pants had been the solution to reining in unsocial behaviour and it didn’t hurt that they looked so innocent and sweet as a result. She looked across at the washing line and saw Billy’s nappies and plastic pants flapping in the late afternoon breeze and couldn’t help but think it was a price that had been worth paying. That smiling hug she received as she walked in was all the proof she needed... she’d got her little boy back. However, she didn’t get the opportunity to question for 'how long' when her phone rang. Edward the chemist informed her that a fresh batch of innovative protection had arrived and… wanted to meet up as he had some exciting new proposals. The end
  14. Part 4 Samantha slipped effortlessly into her teens, probably because she had no idea what being a teenager meant. She may have grown in size but her mind was still that of a toddler; she wore what a toddler liked to wear and, despite everything, was still dressed in diapers. The psychiatrists (yes, psychiatrists plural), had been useless. The one the school recommended thought it was just a phase and, even after repeated visits, couldn
  15. Part 3 For the next few weeks Samantha wore a diaper to school as well as at home. Every morning she would wake up wet but now took it as normal. She still had no idea why she should be in such a state but now that she did she no longer reacted. The enquiring, lively, though ultimately argumentative young girl had been replaced by someone with a much more placid demeanour, whilst her brother had never had such an attentive playmate. Both mother and father were proud of their daughter and although her diapers were proving extra work for them, it was more than compensated by the fact she was so much calmer and such a pleasure to be around. Also, and this was something they were both relieved about, they no longer needed to spank (or threaten to spank) Sam to make her do as she was told. At school it was like she was a different person, no one was scared or intimidated when she entered the room like they had been before.
  16. “Boo” There was a time, a very short time, when I enjoyed Halloween. As a toddler me and my twin sister Jessica would be dressed up by our parents and guided around the neighbourhood collecting candy. Our outfits always seemed to attract a lot of “Oh ain’t you just the cutest” type of remarks and our plastic jack-o-lanterns would be filled with more sweet goodies. I think mom and dad actually liked the event more than either Jess or me, mom especially loved creating our matching costumes. They would hang back at the end of the pathway leading to each house and take great pleasure in the homeowner’s delight in seeing such sweet and adorable, ghosts, ghouls, risen dead or whatever outrageous getup we’d been put in. As in every neighbourhood there is always a house that has a ‘history’ and, depending on who is telling the story, that history could be a number of things; death, murder, the unexplained, strange disappearances, ugly neighbors… you get the drift. Some of these myths may have had some basis in fact but as a seven year-old, if someone older told you such a story, you regarded it as true. One such house was ‘Laurel Grove’ (or Laurel Grave as many people called the place) where they reputedly had the best Halloween displays (very scary) but also, the best candy should you dare to knock at their door. # On this Halloween mom had got us ready but had suddenly felt unwell so we were entrusted into the care of James and Hillary Templeton, our thirteen year-old neighbors to supervise. Of course they didn’t really want anything to do with a couple of seven year-olds but their mother, mom’s best friend, had insisted so they got stuck with us. Things hadn’t gone too badly. Despite them almost dragging us as quickly as possible around the block we had managed to collect a sizeable amount of stuff in our Halloween bags. Jamie and Hills eventually grew tired of our company and desperately wanted to get us home and off their hands but Jess and I still wanted more candy. However, the teenagers came up with a plan to get us to run home and never come out again, they decided we should visit Laurel Grove. # They told us of the deep secret the place concealed, that although it was a scary and frightening place to visit, should we be brave enough, the rewards were everlasting… and the candy was the best too. Neither Jess nor I had heard of this place before and I think the only thing that registered was “the best candy”. Jamie kept saying it was really a place for grown-ups, those over twelve, and probably not a place where seven year-old babies should go because they’d probably wet themselves and run home to mommy to get their diaper changed. We understood the inference… that Jess and I still wore diapers… we didn’t… so didn’t like that one bit. They were baiting us and we, as petulant second, almost third, graders were desperate to prove we weren’t a couple of diaper wearing pre-schoolers. We agreed to go with them the extra couple of blocks to see this particularly scary place. # When we got there a whole new bunch of people dressed in their creepy best were doing the rounds. Most of them appeared older than me and Jess but we never saw anyone go down the pathway of Laurel Grove. The twenty yards or so from sidewalk to front door were wonderfully kitted out in incredible Halloween props; gravestones, coffins, disembodied arms and pieces of flesh hung in a mist they had somehow created. The place looked fantastic, just like a movie set, with strange groans, howls and spine-chilling sniggering emanated from behind every bush putting nerves on edge. Jess and I looked at each other and though impressed by the set, decided not to take our chance at getting the best candy ever. Our teenage supervisors said they understood, we were probably much too babyish to dare to do such a thing and besides they didn’t want the responsibility of having to change our diapers. Their teasing was having an effect and we were getting fed up with this reference to us being diaper wetting babies, neither of us had worn them since we were two, so the joke was on them. Ha! However, when they said that most people were scared of knocking on that particular door, and it would take someone with an enormous amount of courage to do so, we saw our way of not only proving we didn’t need diapers but that we were more grown-up than some of these older boys and girls who were avoiding the place. We saw that not only would we get the best chocolate and candy EVER, we would no longer be seen as babies but become heroes to older kids. This thought spurred us on. # There was absolutely no doubt that we were both sweating heavily as we started slowly and nervously on the journey up the haunted pathway. Jess looked terrified with each moan she heard and became quite upset as some red gunge dripped over the side of a broken coffin. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore each horror as it appeared but my head filled with even worse terror when I walked into a spider’s web that glued itself to my face. The words of encouragement (and giggles) from Jamie and Hills seemed muffled as we drew closer to the door, even though we were still only halfway there. A rustling in the bushes and the bright red-eyes of a skeleton dog howled right next to Jess and she turned tail and ran back down the path. I swallowed hard, determined that I was going to be a hero but already feeling my tummy tighten and breathing difficult, at the same time my bladder and bowel both seemingly wanted to burst. I had no idea this was what fear felt like but I desperately didn’t want to return empty-handed to the sidewalk. I knew that James and Hillary would never let us forget that we were just a couple of scared babies who couldn’t even get up the courage to knock on a door. # I concentrated on achieving my goal. I wasn’t far away and the ghostly hand that touched my face, and the whispered warnings filling my head, only stopped me in my tracks for a few seconds before I forced myself forward. There was low satanic laughter coming from behind the door. I could hear scratching and an evil voice telling the pitiful moans ‘…they would never leave - ah ah ah ahhhhh!’ The hair on the back of my neck was somehow crawling and despite the sweating, I felt goosebumps chill my body. My teeth began to chatter, each step felt like I was dragging a huge weight and the moaning and flapping of wings was getting louder. Blood oozed around the doorway, I felt pee rush into my underwear, shadows drifted by and a bigger shadow filled the reflection in the glass window. The shape changed from man to animal to… I wasn’t too sure but when I looked back to the sidewalk all I could see was the thick mist obliterating everything but a crawling skeleton I hadn’t noticed before. # I gulped and a strange shiver ran down my spine. I was inches away from the door and steeled myself to knock and hope that I wasn’t transformed into some abominable creature of the night. As I raised my little hand to knock, the lit up porch was suddenly plunged into darkness. Fear, or some other shade passed through my body but a purple light switched on. When my eyes got used to the new illumination I could see the word ‘BOO’ smeared in still glistening blood across the door. A scream of death or pain or torture filled my mind and it was that terrifying moment when my bowel decided it had had enough and I filled my underwear. I couldn’t move as my bottom emptied and a rush of lumpy liquid and farts packed my pants with a smelly, mushy load. I stood spellbound for a few moments, staring at that bloody word that appeared to have been so recently scrawled across the woodwork by some poor, ravaged creature. It looked wet and dripped and then I realised that I was also in the same predicament. ‘BOO’ That’s all it had said but those three letters would, unknown to me, haunt me for the rest of my life. # The trip back home was a messy business. Jamie and Hillary didn’t want to have anything to do with a shitty little seven year-old, what with the filthy marks all over my costume, not to mention the smell. Nevertheless, they were nervous of the consequences because they were supposed to be looking after us both and now, one scared little seven year-old had crapped his pants because of their lack of care. Thankfully Jessica held my hand and guided me home because I never would have made it I was crying so much. The two teens were begging me not to tell, whilst coming up with suggestions on how I should explain the disaster. As I was so traumatised by the entire experience I wasn’t party to any of these negotiations. I waddled, slowly and with legs apart, to try and prevent my soiled pants from rubbing against any other part of my body, so I really wasn’t listening. Meanwhile, Jessica had managed to get all Jamie’s and Hillary’s candy and I never knew what else as payment. Once home she spent no time in telling our parents what had happened, how scary the place was and who was really to blame for enticing me up that pathway. Of course mom blamed herself for not being there, whilst dad went around and told their parents. They were grounded for two weeks. # I was still crying when mom led me upstairs to the bathroom and cleaned me up. However, no sooner had she put me in my PJs than a nervous tremble ran through my body and I immediately wet myself. She could see I was in shock and didn’t quite trust me to not spend the night wetting the bed so took evasive action. She told dad to go out to the garage and bring in all the stuff she’d stored there from when I was a baby. In moments he returned with a huge box and mom seemed to know exactly what she was looking for. I was laid out on a towel draped over my bed to ‘catch’ any further accidents and, as she rummaged in the box, through my tears I noticed she had found a couple of thick fabric diapers I hadn’t seen for many years. I wanted to protest but in reality I could hardly get my breath so she had me diapered and in a huge pair of clear plastic pants (which I never remembered owning) in a matter of moments. For the first time since being outside that door at Laurel Grove, I felt out of harm’s way and the thick padding that mom had shrouded me in added to my sense of protection from any evil that may have followed me home. Mom and dad both came and kissed me night-night but left the light on so I wasn’t scared. That didn’t actually work because my dreams were terrible. Every time I closed my eyes I could still see that garden and when I did drop off I was being pursued by all kinds of devilish beings. In the morning I was in no better state than I had been when I’d arrived home that night. It was a good job that mom had the foresight to make sure I was thickly diapered. # For the next few nights I remained well-protected but after a couple of days I was waking up dry and we all thought the drama had past. Life, and school, went on as normal and things only changed when one Saturday morning Jessica crept up behind me and shouted “BOO” and ran off giggling. Under normal circumstances I would have chased after her and this would have developed into a game of tag or have us both roll around on the carpet play fighting. Alas, on this occasion the strange shiver that ran through me on hearing those three letters had the same effect as those scrawled so unnervingly on Laurel Grove’s front door – I filled my underwear. Totally unbidden, pee and poo took urgent leave of my body and soaked what little clothing I was wearing. I looked down in horror as a pool of the stuff formed at my feet - shocked I didn’t move but started to cry. Jessica came running back and saw what had happened and called for mom. She couldn’t believe her eyes on seeing her seven year-old son standing in the middle of his bedroom covered in such a mess. She scooped me up and not caring about her own clothes carried me to the bathroom. She stripped and hosed me down with the shower, then once dry, carried me back to my room and got Jess to find my diapers again. Within minutes of the horror striking, I was back in a thick diaper and plastic pants hugging mommy and wondering what had happened. I don’t suppose the fact that she had scared me even entered Jess’s head, all she explained to mom was that she’d just ‘tagged’ me and ran off when she heard me crying. I couldn’t offer a better explanation, the word ‘boo’ having no connection at the time, so mom must have presumed I was still having some kind of memory to that traumatic night. My diapers stayed with me now for school because on two occasions I’d wet myself while in class. It wasn’t completely unheard of for a seven year-old to have an accident but, with my recent history, mom thought it better to keep me protected 24/7. I didn’t mind. Although I didn’t particularly like the thickness wrapped around me, I certainly didn’t like the wet pants and stifled giggling of my class mates more. Being called a baby was so much worse if there were pee stains down the front of your pants. As time went on I seemed to be wetting myself almost constantly so my diaper was ever present. I never knew when I would leak, or flood and I couldn’t work out the reason. The therapist I saw of course blamed my current situation on the ‘Halloween experience’, which left both my parents feeling very guilty seeing as how much it was they who enjoyed the occasion most. However, I’d seem to go ages without any sort of accident and then suddenly whilst reading, or even walking down the street, I’d feel that shiver and instantly fill my diaper. # I haven’t been able to shake this feeling for, well, since I was seven and I’m sixteen now but I think I now know what might be the cause… it’s those three letters B.O.O. It wasn’t the Halloween garden - the ghosts, blood and bodies, it was those three simple letters. I know this because when I read a book, my concentration is on what I’m reading but as soon as I stop and relax, the word BOOK is no longer the word, all I can see is BOO. The same goes for seeing any word with ‘boo’ somewhere in it. For instance, the word BOOB has recently had me peeing my diaper like a fountain on many embarrassing occasions, especially when I’m trying to chat up a girl. Boomerang, not a word I see often, but I found myself pissing my pants to once I did notice it. The same goes for many words containing those three letters together. So, walking down the street and seeing Book Shop, often finds me filling my diaper. I didn’t notice that was the reason when I was younger, I always assumed it was the event that had caused my problem but now I see the real cause. I hadn’t put the word and that experience together. In fact, although I remember the incident perfectly, the word itself I never thought of as traumatising, just the way it was scrawled bloodily on the door. However, now I think I know the reason, I’m not sure I can tell anyone, I feel stupid that a childish scare word has had such a devastating effect on my life for over nine years. However, I needed help so went to see the shrink and he said he was bamboozled by my casebook. I left his office in a right messy state. ~~~~~~~~ THE END Or is it… BOO
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