Les Lea

Thanks Maly and nice to have you back. ?

Part 5 Despite the chat with mum and her kind words about being a good friend, followed by us cuddling up as we watched a bit of TV that night, my mind was in turmoil. I kept thinking that my situation was completely different from Billy and Mark’s. I wasn’t being punished, I had anxiety issues. I also had to face the fact that I didn’t mind wearing thick protection because it made me feel safe and secure, which I guess was not the case for them. I wondered if Billy would have done any groundwork before my arrival on how we’d get onto the subject. I also had no idea, seeing as Mark had almost shut himself off, how he’d react to me actually knowing about their ‘circumstances’. I tossed and turned for quite a bit of the night trying to mull it over and get some kind of grasp on just how I was going to approach it all. No matter what I thought, a moment later and I was thinking something completely opposite. In the end supposed I’d just have to busk it and hope I could do some good for my friends. I also decided that regardless of mum saying I should arrive when their parents were there, it might complicate matters. So hoped they would be gone by the time I walked the couple of streets to their house. It was the early hours before I dropped off my usually soothing dummy not having the desired result this time. The reason - thinking about another person wearing a nappy like me. Despite everything it had been an exciting revelation and my hand gently rubbed at the glossy mound that shielded me. However, it seemed only a few minutes later I woke up absolutely soaked. Mum’s regime of thicker, boosted, super-absorbent, night time fabric nappies had once again proved their worth. Again I’m amazed at how she seems to be able to forecast these times when I need that extra little help in containing my nightly flood. So much for me being ‘more adult’. # I lay in bed and still my mind was debating the task agreed. I rubbed the front of my slippery bloated padding and although it helped in some ways, in another, it just made me remember that Billy and Mark’s problem was different to my own. The fact that such a huge glassy bulge felt nice to stroke, and being able to do so helped me relax and feel happy, was certainly not what the boys were experiencing. So, although I’d given it a lot of thought last night, still the doubts about my effectiveness plagued me. Would I be doing more harm than good AND did I really want other people knowing I wore a nappy? Too late I suppose. I looked over at the clock and it was late for me, 9:32. Often mum would have been in by now and we’d be planning what to do or she’d just be checking that I was OK, or if I needed anything special for breakfast. She might have asked if I needed any help in changing but on this occasion she’d let me sleep as long as I wanted. I must admit that since I started work I have appreciated the lie-in on a weekend like I never expected. Perhaps that’s what comes when you’re a working man. I speculated as I lay in my soaked padding for a bit longer but knew I’d made a commitment so had to get myself ready. I left the dummy where it was on the bed side table deciding I’d best not take that with me when I go. I’m not sure that either Billy or Mark would be ready for that... it may help me relax but couldn’t see it doing the same for them. There was no point in discussing it further with mum so I shucked off the heavy night time nappy and took a shower. I knew that I’d probably have to show the boys my padding so went for one of the plain white Durable Slips together with white rubber pants. Strange that I thought this form of padding was the adult way to dress... mad or what? After breakfast, mum made no mention of my mission just asked if there was anything I wanted as she was going into town shopping. There was nothing I could think of as my wardrobe and drawers were already full of everything I needed. Anyway, by 10:15 mum was on her way into town, whilst I was on my way towards Billy’s house and relieved that the family car wasn’t in the drive. Part of me hoped their parents would have insisted the boys accompany them shopping and save me from this undertaking but even as I knocked I knew that wouldn’t be the case. # I quietly tapped at their front door and more than surprised when it was answered by their father. “Oh good morning Mr Edwards, erm, just wondered if Bill... erm... William was around.” I wasn’t sure how I could explain why I was there but I just remembered in time that their parents called him William and not Billy, for some reason they thought that was common. Of course, everyone at school called him Billy, which he said he liked even if his mum and dad hated it. Maybe that was why he liked it but they always referred to him as William. You got a look of disgust if they heard you call him Billy. “Uh, hello Jason,” He seemed his usual dour self but at least hadn’t slammed the door in my face. “Yes, they’re both up in their room would you like to go up?” I wasn’t expecting this amount of courtesy so I simply nodded and he let me in and pointed up the stairs. “You know the way right?” I wasn’t sure if he knew why I was there, if Bill... erm... William had been made to explain where he went the night before. However, he just left me to find my own way and didn’t bother calling up to his sons I was on my way. “Thank you Mr Edwards I’ll try not to take up too much of their time.” To see him you wouldn’t think of Mr Edwards, or his wife come to think of it, as anything but a typical urban couple with two nicely behaved boys. However, I know the terror they bring to any transgression by the lads and as a result are known amongst us kids (sorry, I know I’m a grown-up worker now but I still see myself as one-of-the-lads) as the ‘Terrible Two’. “OK then.” He returned to whatever he was doing in another room. This was a little weird because normally their parents are none communicative and suspicious of any other kids. I could only speculate but supposed they knew I’m a working man now so maybe saw me differently. As I got to their room the door was open and Mark was lying on his bed looking decidedly fed up and Billy seemed genuinely pleased to see me. However, there was an atmosphere and not one of burning anger but pee, powder and poo... I recognised it from my own room. “Hi guys,” I ventured, “I haven’t seen you around for some time... so... just wondered if you fancied coming down to the park. Maybe get the other guys up for a game of footy?” I wasn’t sure what, or even if, Billy had said anything and this seemed as good an opening as any. “Thanks for coming Jase, I’ve explained to Mark why you’re here and of course he’s furious that you know that we’re wearing nappies.” There was a resigned sigh but at least he hadn’t told me to “get out”, he just looked defeated. There was the sound of soft rustling as both moved so I knew under their shorts they were padded. My own nappy seemed to get tighter... in empathy? “Yes, and have you told him that you two aren’t the only ones?” I queried whilst trying to rearrange my padding. “Yes but he doesn’t see any connection between you wearing a nappy because you need to and him being forced to wear one.” “OK, I can understand that but why are your parents being so definite about you having to wear... er, padding?” Billy looked over to his brother and obviously any animosity about that particular problem had been ‘discussed’ at length. “Mark got into trouble for making a comment about a boy in his class who wore protection.” He re-informed me which I suppose was for Mark’s benefit really. “He saw he had plastic pants on in the loo and started, you know, having a bit of fun. The lad, Armin, wasn’t having it and started to have ago back about us and things got out of hand.” “So this punishment is so you know how it feels to have to wear a nappy then?” “Basically, yes but, we had a huge disagreement with mum about it and she just said we’d wear them until she’s certain that we understood what Armin, and anyone like him, has to go through.” “So do you wear them for school and has anyone noticed?” I’d adopted this sort of investigative journalist approach for some reason. It wasn’t really me but the bulge behind my plastic pants was getting bigger. There were two other boys in this room, and although I couldn’t actually see it, I knew they were wearing padding... the idea excited me. “Just one or two people have sort of looked but not said anything but mum vowed that if we react then we’ll be wearing them permanently... Mark reacted.” “So you know how Armin felt when you started on him?” I was looking at Mark but he had gone a furious red and looked set to have either a tantrum or beat the hell out of someone. “I don’t know why you’re here.” This was the first sentence he’d spoken since I arrived. “You’re not going to change our parent’s mind and you’re just another person who now knows.” He got up and went to the window and pointed into the garden. “Look, LOOK, they’ve made it so everyone knows... I hate them, I hate them.” He then threw himself back down on his bed in obvious distress. I looked out the window and there, blowing on the washing line for the world to see were half a dozen square shaped pieces of fabric and the same amount of accompanying opaque plastic pants. No one would be in any doubt as to what those pieces of material represented. “Okay, okay, I get it but the only reason I came was to let you know that you’re not alone in having to wear a nappy at your age and to show that, certainly, as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter.” “Well it does to me.” Mark shouted and then realised he’d raised his voice and that might alert his father. “Mark please mate,” I tried to show empathy, “I understand but your parents are probably thinking this is a real way of making you appreciate what people who are incontinent, or for whatever reason, have to wear a nappy feel like all the time. You’re only making it worse for yourself.” “How can I make it worse... they,” he sobbed and gestured to no one in particular, “make us use the things... the toilet’s off limits.” His sobbing took over as he curled up defeated on his bed. He really, really, didn’t want to engage with me, or I suspect anyone, at any level on this subject. He’d been forced into a situation that his fifteen year old mind told him was wrong but was trapped and could see no way out. He knew only too well that arguing with his parents got him paddled and this was perhaps a lesser punishment. Well that was my reading at that moment but what did I know? Billy pointed to the piles of fabric nappies, plastic pants and various powders and lotions that dominated their room. “We’re also in charge of each other... that means when we’re wet or messy, we have to change each other. Mum said it would be good for us to learn what it’s like to have such responsibility.” “It’s so fucking embarrassing.” Mark hissed quietly not wanting his dad to hear him swear. I felt that sudden surge again and spurt of ‘pee’ hit the front of my nappy. I tried to hide my sudden excited vocal reaction with a pretend cough. It was perfectly clear... I was way out of my depth. I’d just wanted to offer support and let them both know they weren’t alone but it appeared that wasn’t going to be enough. There was something else going on with me... and something I’d not, to my knowledge, experienced before. I could only put it down to knowing they were also, like me, wearing a nappy and that was exhilarating. Meanwhile, I thought their parents were never going to let them out of wearing such items unless they or Mark in particular, somehow lost the resentment and acted differently. Obviously, from what he was saying Billy had tried to use this logic on his younger sibling but it would seem that Mark’s temperament had hardened against this possible way of appeasement. Why he’d chosen now, and this punishment, to react so different and irresponsibly was something only he knew. As he lay out face down on the bed sobbing I could see the rounded padding under his flimsy shorts much clearer so he was still wearing it. He’d not thrown it off or refused to be a party to this form of chastisement. I didn’t know the full circumstances so perhaps he had... and the penalty for doing so had been even worse. According to Billy they’d both refused to wear any sort of padding but their father had beaten them so hard that in the end they were both pleading with him to be allowed to wear it. That was the point, their parents didn’t want to hear excuses, reasons or any pleading for forgiveness, they’d decided on a punishment and it wasn’t up to the kids to decide whether it was appropriate or not. “I was trying to defend what he was calling mum and dad,” Mark’s sheepish voice tried to explain, “but they weren’t interested.” No wonder he felt badly done by. Surprisingly, I saw that Billy was not full of resentment towards his brother because he went over, sat on his bed, and gently rubbed his back by way of calming him. There was a tremendous amount of brotherly love, which all their friends had noticed over the years, and I hoped it would see them over this problem. As Billy moved to comfort Mark I could hear the rustle of his plastic pants and could make out the smooth bulge around his crotch. I was on the verge of telling him that wearing a nappy wasn’t such a bad thing and was often a bonus... but realised that it was inappropriate information for their situation. As per the house rule, if one misbehaved, both suffered the consequences. It was also apparent that their parents had taken a different way of dealing with their sons and were happy to let them stew in their own hostility. Maybe, their mum and dad had been delighted they’d found a punishment that had an effect. Possibly, after the first time they’d been made to fill their nappy both took that humiliation in different ways. Whilst Billy saw how nasty it was to have to walk around with shit in your pants settled for acceptance in the hope it would be over with quickly. Obstinately, Mark was so bitter he dug a hole of resentment and burrowed down even deeper. # I returned home feeling I hadn’t helped the situation at all and dreaded that I’d actually made it worse. I think Mr Edwards was well aware of what I was doing there and politely let me out with a nod and a smile. I don’t think that smile was one of support but one that said “We do things our way.” Of course, I may well be completely wrong about that but there was no denying I was glad to leave. However, before leaving I tried one more time to make Mark see that he was harming himself and his brother by not accepting he’d done wrong in the first place. He just moaned and I didn’t know if it was aimed at my feeble attempt to discuss it or he’d heard it all too often already. Although punishments in their household were severe, they usually had an end, but by going down this route he was punishing them both when it might have been over. Of course I didn’t have parents like they did and I had no idea how their minds worked and another fact I had just become aware of, I wasn’t completely acquainted with all the facts. So my involvement was perhaps spurious to say the least. I tried to make Mark see that by acting as he did he was playing into his parents hands. If he pretended it didn’t bother him, own it and even, if possible have fun with it... “Yeah I’m being punished... anyone feel like changing my nappy? Apparently, I’m a little kid now so... goo-goo ga-ga” or some such silliness that made sure it wasn’t a problem just something stupid their mum and dad had dreamed up. Alas he didn’t see this assertion and I’m afraid I couldn’t get either boy to join me in a kick about in the park. # Once home and up in my room I tried to understand why Mark was so belligerent about taking responsibility for having a go at the padded boy in the first place. I mean, he must have known his parents would come down hard on him for fighting so that, together with embarrassing the boy, would lead to further punishment. However, I didn’t know the full details so best not to speculate. What I’d been told was this had been going on for a week now, so why this time had Mark not seen the ‘error of his ways’? Despite disappearing to the bedroom when he could as far as I knew Mark still had to go to school and was still under his parent’s command when at home. So he’d be in his padding all the time. They’d been told to use their nappies and perhaps that was what had caused him to ‘snap’ but even then he couldn’t escape their use. I couldn’t see what he hoped he’d gain from such an ineffectual temperamental display. I toyed with the idea that he was actually enjoying the punishment but that would make no sense taking into account his reaction of locking himself away. Was he so angry with Billy for some reason that he wanted him to suffer the humiliation of having to wear a nappy 24/7? It didn’t seem likely as the two were normally as close as can be against their parents. Maybe he had admitted his offence and his parents, not wanting to accept it, just wanted to humiliate the boys further. I had heard that some parents think back to an easier time when their kids were toddlers and relied on them more for everything. They liked the idea of regressing them back to that time and certainly nappies were as good a starting point as any. The strange thing seemed that Billy was just getting on with life – he’d accepted that this was the way things were and despite hating it, decided to just go along with it until it was over. Mark had dug his heels in and perhaps he was drawing a line as far as his parents were concerned that they couldn’t do any more. Alas, if that was the case his parents hadn’t received the memo. No, this was all very confusing and I suspected my reach-out hadn’t helped even a tiny bit; except, I’d revealed to two friends that I wore a nappy almost constantly. However, I couldn’t pretend that their nappy wearing had affected me in a strange way. # I sucked on my dum-dum to try and sort all this out in my head but the main conclusion I came to was not one concerning the boys. In fact, what it did clarify was that I was more than a little content to wear a nappy. Of course I’d realised this before but, as I sat at my desk and rubbed the front of my not very exciting and not so white nappy and plastic pants, it was apparent that my ‘comfy cushion’ meant more to me than I’d previously admitted to. A little while back, after mum had asked if I liked wearing protection, I was arguing with myself over this fact, did I or didn’t I? But it was obvious that now, and even at work, I didn’t want to lose what my bulky protection offered. I looked in my wardrobe and checked the various items that mum had bought. Eighteen and still with a cupboard full of nappies might seem wrong but not me. That was because there was logic to why she’d seen fit to buy certain items, there was no doubt they were aimed at making me happy, comfortable and loved. She didn’t see any reason for me to change my ways and therefore there was no real incentive for me to do so. If I was anxious – there was a dummy. If I wet – there was a host of protection. If I didn’t feel valued – mum made sure I never forgot how much she loved me. Despite trying, I just couldn’t empathise with the anger Mark felt about his padding. In fact, if anything, I began to wonder what Mark would look like just wearing protection. He’s a good-looking lad, as is Billy, and I bet we’d make a nice little gang of nappy wearers. I stood looking in my full-length mirror at what I was wearing; at that moment just a plain if mucky white Durable Slip and white rubber pants. Meanwhile, my wardrobe was full of every type of padding and vinyl covers and that made me feel guilty because I was beginning to think how my friends would look dressed in some of it. Previously, I’d never thought about others being similarly dressed to me, but of course, now I was thinking about it, that’s all I could imagine. # Yes, it’s a fact, in all the time I’ve worn it myself I’ve never thought about others wearing protection. However, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to see Billy and Mark in just their padding. Would it be like mine? I didn’t get a chance to show it and suspected that Mark at least wouldn’t have let me see his but I would have loved to know exactly what they wore. I was getting excited at the thought. OK, this is awful. I’m thinking of my friends in ways I’ve never done before... but I just can’t stop my brain from hypothesising how they’d look. I’d accepted my wearing a nappy as normal and now there were two others. The thoughts of how I accepted the need to wear was making my mind fantasise about them and how they wore theirs. How would their mum and dad dress them – lavishly with extra padding or only stick to traditional nappies and opaque plastic pants? Compared to most of mine, what I saw hanging out on their washing line was boringly traditional but was that the extent of the humiliation for their kids or did they have other, further humbling plans? You see what I mean? Now I’m thinking how cute they’d both look in their sagging and full nappies but then what they’d look like wearing some of my more ‘fun’ stuff. I looked in my top drawer and imagined Mark wearing one of my thick cartoon disposable, whilst Billy would be cheerfully waddling around in one of my cushiony fabric nappies with a lovely ruffled pair of plastic pants. I wasn’t a lone nappy-wearer any longer and this visualisation was one hell of an experience. My nappy was entertaining a sexual me, which I suppose, at eighteen, had been a long time coming. # Later in the evening mum came up to see if I was okay, I’d been on my computer for ages but had already changed from the things I’d worn to the Edwards’ and was now happily enjoying my bulky night time ensemble. “So, you don’t need any help tonight then?” She queried at the bedroom door. If only she knew what I’d been doing and imagining for the last few hours she certainly wouldn’t want to start changing my nappy. “No thanks mum, got myself nicely settled.” I wriggled guiltily under my covers. “OK see you in the morning... night-night love.” She blew me a kiss and closed the door. I popped in my dum-dum, reached down to my slinky padding to let my hand and mind venture wherever it liked. # tbc #

Part 4 Being the youngest, and not used to mixing with others at this level, the new job did provide me with plenty of anxious moments whilst I got used to different people and the work itself. Thankfully, the white lab-coat was a great leveller because whilst on the premises we all had to wear one, so was able to hide any bulk my nappies had fairly easily. Happily, although a dummy was in my pants pocket all the time there were no circumstances where I needed its soothing effects. It just being there seemed to offer the necessary comfort. So, here I was... an adult: I mean eighteen, a job and responsibilities. I was earning and quite happily shared my wage with mum, not that she needed it but I wanted to contribute, that had been part of the reason I sought a job in the first place... man of the house and all. Of course mum made a fuss telling me that I didn’t need to but she could see it meant a lot so eventually stopped saying for me to keep it all to myself. I knew it wasn’t much in the first place but in my head there was a principle I needed to adhere to... it’s what grown-ups do. Mum had looked after me my entire life so, no matter how silly and unnecessary it was, I wanted her to know I appreciated it and wanted to look after her. I wanted to be responsible like dad. However, despite all this ‘adulthood’ my wetting at night didn’t improve, in fact if anything it got worse. I have no explanation why but it appeared worse because every morning I woke up absolutely soaked so fabric nappies and plastic pants were a must. I can’t say this upset me much because I loved having that nice comfy cushion to sleep with. However, a soggy cushion was not as nice but the regularity of my bed-wetting made sure I was constantly grateful it was there to prevent any urinary disaster. The daytime disposables felt wonderful and their comforting bulk was a constant and happy reminder their presence. Occasionally, I thought about the cheerful, colourful characters that surrounded my genitals and it made me smile. So all in all I was in good humour at work. The fact I wore a nappy seemed an irrelevance and a damp one under my trousers was of little concern. It wasn’t that they didn’t have staff restrooms; it was just that by the time I realised I needed to go (being caught up in some project or other) it was too late and I could feel my crotch receiving a warm flush. By then it was too late so I’d just carry on until lunch or coffee break, of which we seemed to have plenty, and then I could swap myself out of the wet one and into a fresh one in its place. It became part of my daily routine and the positive thing about a disposable over pull-ups was - easier to fit. I didn’t have to remove my pants to slip a disposable between my legs and tape myself in. It was quite a bit of work but one I got used to. No one asked where I was going they were all pretty much involved in their own little (and not so little) assignments. # After a month I was called into Mrs Garfield’s HR office for my first assessment. “Jason, please sit down. As you know we try and do regular assessments so we both know how things are going. This is an opportunity for us to let you know how well it’s all progressing as far as the company is concerned, and for you to raise any queries you might have.” Although this was a fairly informal meeting I knew it was important and I could feel a certain amount of tension building in my bladder (damn those constant coffees). Even after all this time I hadn’t felt confident enough to be without protection at work. So it had become a safety barrier I’d grown to appreciate on many levels. “Your colleagues have nothing but praise for your work and enthusiasm. Mr Tridwell your supervisor says you perform your tasks satisfactorily and are quick to learn... so I’m glad we got that right.” She joked hoping to put me at ease. It didn’t. I felt a nervous spurt of pee shoot into my already soaked disposable (sorry to my fun-loving cartoon chums) but I tried to look confident. She went through a couple of other work-related items and I seemed to be coming up trumps in all areas. She asked how I did in my ‘A’ levels but I was still waiting on the results. However, I was feeling quite proud of myself and running over some of the flattering praise I was receiving when she asked. “... and what about you... and your nappy?” I was suddenly brought back out of my self-congratulatory revelry and to be honest feeling a bit smug about my contribution until this unexpected question. “Erm, I, umm, well, mmmmrrrraa,” I was caught completely off-guard “I just go and change when I need to in the restroom.” I eventually stammered out, although, I thought it a strange and intrusive question. More to the point how did they know? She looked perplexed. “What?” “Sorry, what was the question again?” I tried to look dumb, which was not really the image I wanted to portray. “I asked are you happy, you know here and with the work... do you feel you’ve settled in?” “Oh... yes, erm... I’m loving it,” I enthused glad for some clarification. “The people are lovely to work with and the work itself, from what I’ve seen, is very rewarding. I can’t wait to be more involved... although I’m still learning so know that it might take some time.” I didn’t want to appear pushy but wanted her to know of my keenness to move on as soon as they thought I should and definitely sought to move on from my faux pas. She still had a sort of worried and non-comprehending look on her face but gave a half smile. I just hoped I’d smoothed over my ridiculous admission about where I changed. There were a few more bits of small talk and then I was out of her office with the feeling that the first thing I needed to do was change. My bladder just opened up when I thought she’d asked me about nappies. So, even though I thought the situation wouldn’t be that stressful, I thanked those absorbent little creatures and plastic pants for keeping me from leaking all over her office. From Mrs Garfield’s HR administrative centre (office) I went to grab the backpack from my locker and quickly headed to the men’s washroom and found an empty stall. I removed my white lab coat and hung it up and then dropped my trousers. The tight plastic pants were amazing in the way they held all those smiling, though damp, cartoon faces in place. I pulled them down and released the tabs on the disposable and boy was it absolutely sodden. I didn’t know I’d had that much to drink but as I’ve mentioned, it was one of those workplaces where a cup of coffee was never far away. Unfortunately, the disposable was so heavy and sagged so low I wasn’t quite quick enough to catch it before it slopped onto the tiled floor. I heard a surprised “Uuurrrggg” from the next stall and that’s when I realised, that in my haste, I hadn’t checked for anyone else being in there. # Hearing that surprised comment had another effect, it was a good job I was already in the toilet because a burst of nervy pee arched through the air and landed on my white lab coat hung up behind the door. Not only that but as I’d turned to try and prevent the sudden spurt, I kicked the used disposable, cartoon characters and all, further into the other cubicle. I quickly bent down to try and retrieve it but at the same time another hand grabbed a corner. For a few seconds there was a bit of a tussle between the two cubicles before I eventually wrenched it free from my opposition. Had I not been so embarrassed I might have found the situation amusing but all I could think of was to get out of there before the other person, otherwise they’d know it was me who wore a nappy. Being the youngest in the group was okay but I didn’t want them to know about that particular part of my life. Thankfully, throughout the struggle I hadn’t said a word, although I did grunt a bit from the effort. So hopeful whoever it was couldn’t identify me from that noise. If I could get myself nappied and out before him then I could disappear into the corridors and pretend I was never there. However, if he finished first, then he could hang around and simply wait for me to emerge and then he’d know who the culprit was. I was in two minds whether to just leave the damn thing lying there on the floor but that would have got even more people involved searching for the thoughtless incontinent so-and-so who left their used disposables lying around. I quickly shoved a fresh Cuddlz between my legs and pulled the tapes tightly, too tightly as one ripped off. “Shit”. Still, I just pulled the plastic pants up over it and then my trousers and hoped I was still ahead of the guy in the next cubicle. There may well be a chance that he was too embarrassed having witnessed this disaster and therefore didn’t want to find out who it was. However, it was down to me to make a sneaky exit and pretend none of this ever happened. With more haste than I’d ever done anything before I unlocked the toilet door and rushed past the wash basins (heaven knows what the man thought of my hygiene regimen) and found myself out amongst a group of others just returning from lunch. I joined the throng and hopefully slipped inconspicuously to being just one of the mass. That was a close call and I was thankful I could fondle the dummy in my pocket. “Jason,” I heard my name being called and because I was still a little flustered was thankful once again I was wearing padding. “Yes,” I nervously responded wondering if this was the mystery person and all was about to be revealed. “Get yourself a clean lab coat mate... something’s been spilled down the front of this,” Gary Burns, Tridwell’s number two, said as he pointed to the offending stain. I’d forgotten about that as well. “Oh yes, umm... not sure what that is but, erm, thank you Gary. I’ll do it right away.” God that could have been another embarrassing situation had he identified exactly what the stain was, if this stress continues my dummy will be getting rubbed to a nub. # When I got home that night I wondered whether to tell mum, would she be appalled or find it amusing... the outcome was, I was embarrassed so said nothing. However, and this might have been the start of something, I arrived home dry. Not only that but I suddenly knew when I needed the toilet and could get there without any problem... no sudden soaked nappy. Literally, a wake-up call from nowhere because during the night I woke up feeling the need and actually got up. Despite the struggle with my night time padding to relieve myself properly I managed for the first time in ages. I couldn’t believe it but thought the shock of that ‘incident’ must have spurred me on to take action; although I didn’t expect it to take this particular turn. Had I simply become lazy so needed a jolt to chivvy me from my too complacent state? However, notwithstanding these successes I continued to wear my protection both day and night as I still wasn’t that confident about not making a mess. I was so used to it that a nappy had become second nature and I was more-or-less unaware of the fact I had it on but missed it when I didn’t. Even my thicker night time fabric nappy was an aid to sleep and although I was waking up and occasionally finding the toilet I was still glad I had one on. Some mornings they were a little damp but not as soggy as they used to be. I foolishly comforted myself with the belief I was becoming more adult. # One of the good things about working was that, as opposed to school, I didn’t have any homework. When my shift finished at six that was it I’d done for the day and only had to research things at home if I wanted to and in truth I could do most of that on company time. When I took this job that particular aspect had never occurred to me but now I found that I wasn’t stressing over handing in homework the following day I was able to relax more and meet up with friends when I liked. Some of my old school mates like James and Kili had decided on university, so they were going away for most of the year, Kili to Oxford and James to Durham University. A few were signing on and I have to say a bit resentful of people who had found work. Ralph was working with his father in the grocery trade. He had, even from an early age, helped his dad out on the market stalls most Saturdays but now he was a more permanent member of staff. However, although recently we haven’t seen much of Billy and Mark who were still in school, I at least hoped to meet up with them in my newly discovered ‘spare time’. One evening after work Billy was on the same bus as me, he was still in his school uniform and I heard the tell-tale crinkle of plastic pants. At first I was sure they were mine but it became clearer that my fellow passenger was the culprit. I could see that he knew I’d heard something and became quiet and a bit apprehensive. We made small talk but it was very strained even though I hadn’t really seen him for a few weeks. I asked him if he and his brother were still grounded but he said no it’s just that they hadn’t felt like going out much lately. He didn’t expand on the whys and wherefores of that decision or the reason they were grounded in the first place. But there again, they never did say much, more suffering in silence unless we could see the stripes where his father had laid into them. Just so you know - this discovery of Billy’s striped arse was as a result of him being seen by one of his class mates getting changed during gym at school. The rumour spread quickly and we all wanted to know more. He wasn’t too forthcoming at first but then, in a secluded moment when there were only a few of his friends around, me being one, told us about the regime he and his brother lived under. We were all sympathetic and grateful our parents, as bad as we may have thought them, weren’t THAT strict. Anyway, this was different and I know what it’s like to have this kind of secret. I know how awful the idea of being revealed as a nappy-wearer is but unexpectedly wanted to let him know that if that was the case he wasn’t alone. When I thought about it later this was quite a change in my position but I was a ‘working grown up’ so assumed I should be able to talk about this type of thing. Once off the bus we were walking towards my house, his being a few streets over, and I could see he was trying to restrict the noise with each step. Of course, wanting to chat about it and actually doing so was not the same thing. How do you approach the subject? I mean I’ve been wearing (and as it turned out happily wearing) a nappy and vinyl pants of some description for quite some time now, I should be able to speak, shouldn’t I? Now we were off public transport I thought he might feel a bit freer to at least say something. “How are you and Mark coping?” seemed a general way of getting onto the subject. “What do you mean?” He looked at me as if he thought I knew something that was secret. “Well, we’ve seen neither of you around much lately and I just wondered if everything was alright.” “Yes, yes, everything’s fine.” But Billy is a lousy liar. He’s had no practice with his parents because he knows lying leads to punishment so he’s never been able to spin a yarn. I decided to take the bull by the horns. “Okay, okay, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to... but are you wearing padding... like me?” “What, no, ermmm, no what, why who... ummm wait.” I saw his brain click into gear. “You wear padding?” “Have done for quite some time,” this was quite an admission from me and I wasn’t sure just how much of a good idea it was. “I’ve woken up wet so many mornings and had little accidents throughout the day that I’m more or less permanently wearing protection these days.” Well the cat was well and truly out of the bag now so I just waited for him to admit he was the same. “What, you wear a nappy... why... erm...?” I deliberately said padding and protection not nappy but that’s where his mind immediately jumped. “I have ‘anxiety issues’ and that can make me pee at the most unexpected times.” I tried to make light of it but he still looked horror-struck. “Erm, yes, and I, umm, think, at the moment you are also wearing something other than... you know...?” I hoped he’d jump in and concede to it but he looked baffled, “I just didn’t want you to think you were the only one or be embarrassed. I hope I haven’t embarrassed you but I wanted you to know...” “No, no, NO.” His denial was strident but not very believable, I’ve reacted the same way myself when challenged. “Of course I don’t wear a nappy for god’s sake. Why, do you think I do?” “Well Billy, your pants have a nice rounded look, you make the same soft crinkle sound I do when you move... and... you’re my friend and I didn’t want you to feel ashamed about it.” I almost patted his padded bum but held back... thankfully. Despite his denial there were tears in his eyes as he ran off towards his home but I just stood there and hoped I’d not made things worse for the poor guy. # When I got home the incident was hanging heavily on my mind and I really needed to discuss it with mum. However, the first thing I needed to do was change out of my suddenly soggy disposable. I must have let out a surreptitious dribble as I confronted Billy, which for me was quite a backward step as I’d been doing so well. Then I realised I must have gotten myself stressed over poor Billy’s situation so pulled out my dummy and gave it a damn good sucking. Because I hadn’t shouted my greeting to mum when I got in she eventually came up to my room to check I was OK... also tell me when the meal would be on the table. She saw me lying on my bed in a wet nappy, sucking on my dum-dum. “Are you alright dear, you look a bit stressed?” She was genuinely concerned. I explained what had happened and that I’d wet myself as a result and was now worried I might have shamed him and didn’t know what to do to make amends. “Well love, what’s done is done and you can’t take back what’s already been said.” She came and sat on the bed next to me. “The next move will be up to him I’m afraid. All you can do is be sure, if and when that moment arrives, you’re still prepared to offer him support and a friendly shoulder to lean on.” “I can do that.” “I’m sure you can love. But, you’re wet now so, do you want me to help change?” She was already grabbing the items needed so I continued sucking on my dummy and let her get on with it. Although I’m eighteen and have a job mum looking after me was just what I wanted right then. “Do you plan on going out again sweetheart?” She enquired. As I was still happily sucking on my dum-dum shook my head no. “Well, I know it’s early but why don’t I get you all nicely wrapped up for beddy-byes and then it’s done?” Mum had said this in a jokey way so I didn’t feel she was babying me but of course there was still that little bit of worry, which I quickly got over because I loved being looked after. I shrugged and mum took it upon herself to strip me out of my soaked disposable. I saw her eyebrows rise and a sort of “Hmmmm” observational comment as she saw how soaked it was before throwing it into another wash basket that had taken up permanent occupancy in the corner of my bedroom. A soft warm wash-cloth thoroughly cleaned each crevice before she applied loads of Sudocreme and powder. Then, as she so often did, folded a huge fluffy nappy into shape, added a couple of soaker pads and pinned me in. Although I thought I probably didn’t need such methodical nappying I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t wet as I slept. Also, she knew that it was one of my favourite ways to go to sleep - all tightly packed in for the night. My anxiety level must have all but disappeared as mum pampered and changed me. There is that connection we have and one, even at the age I am, I would hate to break. It’s a special bond which I know I’m lucky to have. She wriggled up a pair of clear plastic pants and said that I deserved to be treated special because I’d proved to be a special friend. Mum’s say and do the nicest things, well mine does. # She went downstairs to finish preparing the meal and said it would be five minutes until it was on the table so not to drop off. She knew that now I was all nice and snug the chances were that I’d just lie there, sucking on my dummy and letting the world’s problems (and any of my own) just float away as I drifted off. However, I was hungry so that became far more important and I slipped up a pair of loose, elasticated shorts and headed for the kitchen. We’d just finished eating when there was a gentle knock on the front door. “Are you expecting another delivery?” I quipped. “You wish,” was her quick comeback. However, she answered the door and I could hear a voice asking if I was around. It was Billy. “Come in, come in. We’ve just finished eating so you’re not interrupting anything. Jason, Billy’s here to see you.” I got up from the table, readjusted my padding and walked to greet Billy at the door. “Erm Jase, can I speak to you please... erm... in... you know...” he was obviously uneasy with mum being there. “Mum, we’re just going up to my room...” I was hinting that we needed some privacy but of course mum had already sussed the situation. “OK boys, if you need anything just shout.” I led Billy up to my room. I suppose he couldn’t really miss the large amount of padding my waddling bum had surrounding it as we climbed the stairs. But if we were going to talk about that particular subject now wasn’t the time to be self-conscious. My friend hadn’t been in my bedroom for quite some time. In fact, the last time he was here there were no nappies or assorted kit lying about but now my room had the distinct smell of powder and the markers of my ‘problem’ were everywhere. I’d become quite blasé about putting stuff back where I’d got it from so there was quite a bit of stuff on show. “Ohh,” was his only comment as he stared around I thought I’d break the ice. “As you can see, I’m fully equipped for wearing a nappy these days and I have to say, they’ve stopped my embarrassment so many times I’m quite grateful to have them.” Again I hoped my demeanour was friendly and relaxed but wasn’t sure just how I was coming over. However, although I was trying not to look his groin became the centre of my attention as I was trying to figure out just what his padding would look like. “Are you incontinent then?” He was looking around in disbelief and didn’t notice. “Well,” strange that I didn’t actually want to admit to that so went in a slightly different direction. “I’m going through a bit of an anxious period at the moment... what with a new job and all... and that sort of effects the way my head works... and leads to some... you know...” I was gabbling when I should have been in charge and I felt a nervous spurt of pee begin the pattern of my anxiety - so much for being ‘grown up’. “You weren’t joking were you?” He was getting his act together and touching the laid out nappies on the dresser. “I thought you might have been... well... when you said... I mean...” so much for getting his act together. It was going to be a little more difficult to chat about this subject than perhaps either of us realised. He looked at my huge padding behind my thin polyester shorts and could see he was a little perturbed. “I thought my parents hated me and my brother but your mum must really...” “No, no, no, no... mum’s not like that. This isn’t a punishment, as I say, I have anxiety issues and that makes me... you know?” “But look at the size.” “Yes well, I wasn’t expecting visitors so really I’m just getting myself ready for an early night and this... well it’s just extra protection as I tend to flood when sleeping” Billy shrugged. “Am I keeping you up?” “No, I just mean,” it was Friday night so he wasn’t keeping me up. “Well, erm... look, is this what you’re here to see me about?” He looked serious. “Mark and I have been scared that someone would find out about mum and dad putting us back into nappies.” So they were both in nappies, wow. I felt my heart miss a beat but a strange thrill crawled up my back and began to grow in my nappy. “You know what they’re like? If one of us misbehaves or is seen to have broken a rule... we both get punished.” I nodded because he’d told me about this as the way their parents held them both to account and made sure each was responsible for the other’s behaviour. “Well, last week Mark got into a fight at school when he saw that another lad in his class was wearing padding. He ribbed him but it got out of hand and although I was nowhere near, mum and dad decided that we would both feel how bad it was to be ridiculed for something perhaps the boy had no control over.” He rubbed the slight padding I could now hear as he sat down on my bed. “So, for the past week or so we’ve had to wear nappies all the time and you were the first person who noticed or said anything and I was scared, despite what you admitted, you’d make fun and tell everyone.” “No, that wasn’t the intention, I wanted you to know you weren’t alone, I didn’t even think about Mark as well, but I know the whole nappy wearing thing can make you feel desperate and suspicious. I wanted you to know that with me at least you needn’t worry.” “When I got home and thought about it that was the same conclusion I came to though haven’t discussed it with Mark yet because I know he’s more fearful than me. He’s hardly been out of the house since and has cut off all contact with his friends. Mum and dad have told him that until he starts owning the fact that he now wears a nappy, he’ll continue to wear one. So, we both have to wear them for an unspecified time.” “Oh, I see.” I said as a nervous but excitable spurt splashed into the front of my nappy. “Do you?” I hoped he thought I would be the one to understand even if nobody else did. “I mean I’m going to ask a lot now but, as Mark won’t come out can you come round to our house and say to him exactly what you told me. It might help him see there is no shame, well perhaps not as much shame, if he knows one of our friends has to wear padding and... stuff.” “Will it be OK with your parents?” I was trying to sound in control but that last spurt had taken me by surprise and wondered if he’d noticed. “I think so, you’re one of the few friends we have that they don’t completely dislike so I think you’re safe but, tomorrow is Saturday and they go shopping from around ten until eleven so probably won’t be in... can you come then... please?” He hadn’t seemed to have noticed that I’d flushed a little. “Sure,” I nodded feeling pretty good that their parents approved of me and although I didn’t really know the grade of acceptance I hoped it was quite high. “I’ll be there when I see the drive empty, is that alright with you?” “Thanks Jason, it means a lot that you’ll do this and I just hope Mark appreciates it.” He looked again at my thick protection. “I’ll leave you to get to bed but I’m sure, when he knows that one of our friends - and it’s you and you’re working AND wear a nappy - it might just give him a different perspective on it all.” He gave me a heartfelt look of hope and touched my arm in thanks. “See you tomorrow then.” I nodded but the throbbing in my nappy returned as he got up to leave. I could hear the tell-tale crinkle and saw the outline of his padding under his pants... I felt my nappy bursting in appreciation. I heard him say goodbye to mum and then he was gone. Mum came up and asked if all was ‘OK’ and of course, as I always do, told her what just happened... although, not everything. She nodded and warned that I shouldn’t go behind their parents back. I should be upfront and let them see I’m visiting unaware they’re about to go out. “What if that makes them change their mind?” “Well, I think they might respect you more being as straight with them as you are with their boys, don’t you?” I had to think about it because Billy had wanted to keep my involvement secret from his parents. He wasn’t sure they’d appreciate another person being brought into the discussion. “Of course you’re right mum but they really scare me and I’m not wearing padding as a punishment like they are, so, our situations are completely different.” That gave me something else to think about. How it might all go wrong and then I felt the warmth spread around in my nappy. Oh well, now I’m worrying about the two boys AND the reaction of their parents, I suppose it was bound to happen. # tbc #

Glad you're enjoying it... the next chapter will be up in the next day or two. ? Thanks, more to come just finishing a few little add-ons. ?

Yes, the boy is no dummy... oh yes... sorry... that's what this is all about. ?

Part 3 Another explanation I think. “Baby Boy” Despite mum’s explanation it still caused some ripples of doubt, not from her but from me. There was something about being referred to as ‘baby’ that chimed with... well... I’m not sure what but, well, I wanted to grow up but still held onto childish things. When I thought about it I still had my childhood teddy stashed somewhere because I simply couldn’t bear to part with my bear. I wasn’t sure but suspected that mum had kept most of my childhood stuff because we had an attic and it was full, although I never ventured up there I know mum often did. Mind you, I suppose there could have been dad’s stuff up there as well. I had friends my own age and there was never any thought that there was any difference between us all. We’d all grown up together, so had the same hopes and fears... the same influences. Well, apart from at home where I didn’t know if anyone else had a similar relationship as mine and mum’s. Despite those friends I didn’t want to go to university even though mum thought it would be good for me if I did. I’d wanted to work more than I wanted further education, I didn’t fancy three or so years studying. However, mum had insisted that I stay until I’d done my ‘A’ levels before I could even contemplate finding a job. Despite that, I applied for a job and got the one I wanted but that time had now arrived... and I was bricking it. Any confidence I thought I could bring to this moment had evaporated so quickly I’d sought refuge with a nappy and dummy. It turned out I was reliant on both. # Of course, it had taken me all this time to work it out. Regardless of my denials, anxiety attacks, having a thoughtful mum and memories of dad, I’m just not ready to grow up and take on the responsibilities of being just that... adult. And to prove it, in many ways I was just like dad, anxiety flooding my head with every decision. And, with those comfortable and comforting things so nearby and available (and always had been) I found sanctuary easily using them. I’d convinced myself I was okay with it all but I start work in two hours and I’m lying here in a soaked and messy nappy scared of moving and terrified of what the future will hold. I’m also sucking on my dummy desperate for it to release me from my obvious panic. I am mum’s baby boy, unable to cope and desperately sucking frantically on my dum-dum in the desperate hope that mum will sort... everything. I’m also dreading what she’ll say when she sees the state of my bedding and PJs. “C’mon sweetheart, you don’t want to be late on your first day.” Mum was gently cajoling from the other side of my bedroom door. I let out a “Mmmmuuuuummm” though because of the dummy I sounded like a wounded kitten. Mum picked up there was a problem and immediately barged in assessing the situation that this wasn’t the best start to a successful new career. “Oh sweetheart another accident?” I’m sure the smell gave me away. “Let’s get you up and sorted.” I spluttered the dummy out. “But mum, I’m scared.” The anxiety made my voice almost non-existent... and childish. “Don’t worry love, I’ll soon have you sorted and then we can chat over breakfast.” “Mum, I can’t go into the office if I’m going to... you know... do this.” “Now listen Jason, first things first.” She was being her usual no nonsense mum, “I’ll get you cleaned up, then I’ll get you dressed and you will go into work. I have every faith... and you’ll be brilliant.” “But what if I....” With a look of disgust and shame I indicated what lay beneath the covers. “Well, over the past few weeks I think we’ve been practising for just such an occurrence so...” Up until that moment I hadn’t realised she was correct. Everything from a few weeks back seemed to be getting me ready for just such a reaction. I’d been wetting myself more and I’d become more dependent on nappies and plastic pants to keep me from total embarrassment. How mum knew just what to do I’ll never know but it was like my first day at school and I was scared then but mum eventually got me up and off and of course once there I loved it. It was taking that first step that proved to be the problem. She pulled down the cover and saw the mess I’d made. Thankfully the vinyl barrier had kept most of it contained but unfortunately not everything. How she could still contend with an eighteen year old being in such a babyish position I’ll never know but she just didn’t seem to give it a second thought and got to it. She ushered me into the bathroom and helped me out of every stinking thing and never once stopped to take a deep breath. She set the shower and told me to climb in and thoroughly clean myself up. As I stood there, whilst mum cleared stuff away and got things ready, I looked back on the terrible night’s sleep I’d just had. I was wearing a Durable Slip but couldn’t get comfy, so was tossing and turning and horrible thoughts of mum and dad not being around kept entering my head. In my thoughts/dreams she was with dad when he died and so did she. I’d never had this thought, this dream scenario before, but was probably perturbed because we talked about dad. However, I knew that in my dream, or whatever it was, my stomach churned and I felt sick. A strange shudder ran through my body and I could feel myself pissing and shitting at the same time... but did nothing to prevent it. I was terrified. It was like I was both awake and asleep at the same time, caught between the two states and it left me immobile. There was more because it was as if there was some major event beyond my first doomed day at work that was about to take its toll. I had no idea what but somehow it involved losing mum... and I’d dreamt that mum had died like dad? I was paralysed with dread until mum came to get me up. The relief that ran through my body she was alive made for extra pee spurting into my well soiled nappy. I tried to hide the tears of relief but maybe she just thought I was feeling sorry for myself because of the mess. I wasn’t, it was absolute relief mum was there and alive. Even under the warm shower I felt a chill run down my spine as I realised that I was grown up enough to start work, yet still childish enough to fill a nappy and be scared by dreams. I know I should have had feelings of disgrace and humiliation, which I did, but mainly I felt like a silly kid who had no control over anything. My anxiety level shot up even higher. What if I was like this at work? When I exited this shower I was dreading what mum would say. # Laid out on the bed was one of the large colourful disposables, a couple of soaker pads, plastic pants and a onesie. Mum wasn’t there. She’d left the things she thought I needed but left me to decide just what I wanted. “Don’t forget plenty of anti-rash cream and talc sweetheart.” I heard the shout from her bedroom. I looked at the array of things and my mind drifted back to my first day at school when I needed a nappy then because I was so scared. On that day mum had sorted me out and stopped any protest by being so understanding. Mum came into my room and looked at me dithering. “Can’t make up your mind?” “No, just remembering you getting me ready for my first day at school, you know...” “Actually,” she interrupted, “It was your father who got you ready on that first day. You were in such a state but daddy just seemed to understand and gently cajoled you into wearing a nappy and plastic pants. You didn’t want to but daddy, erm, dad, said it would take a big boy to know when he needed a little bit of ‘special’ protection.” I looked at mum wondering why I’d thought it was her who’d done that but the proper memory vaguely returned and I could hear dad’s voice encouraging me into wearing a nappy. “C’mon big boy... let’s get this on and everything will be OK I promise.” It was an elusive echo of a memory but I couldn’t be sure it was true. “Your dad was good like that. You were the apple of his eye and hated to see you upset so, whenever you had a worry, your dum-dum or a nappy seemed to sort it out and you were able to cope.” Was mum reading my thoughts? Had she just confirmed what I thought or was there another explanation why, after all these years, I was still having these panic attacks? I was getting anxious about getting anxious. I could feel my heart racing... and another thing... why hadn’t I thought of dad’s involvement until now it seemed a strange omission to make? However, with yesterday’s talk about dad and the fact I was more than a little like him in the anxiety stakes, I suppose it wasn’t a surprise he was now uppermost in my thoughts. “You were the same when you started at senior school,” mum continued. “You were petrified of the big change that was about to happen, and you’d had a few wet nights then, but once I’d got you wearing a nappy all appeared well.” Why had my memory not remembered that either? Was my brain blocking out selective data? This didn’t make sense. # When I was eight mummy had to explain daddy wouldn’t be coming home any more because there had been an accident at work. It was a hard time for both of us as he was a lovely daddy and husband and we had a great family life. Apparently dad was doing his job as a building inspector but other workers, who shouldn’t have been operating in the same area, were pulling down an unsecured wall. Unfortunately, the wall caved in, which resulted in an unforeseen knock-on effect and a roof... well you get the picture. It was strange now to think that dad’s anxiety and re-checking everything hadn’t been able to save him. But apparently he’d been assured by the plant manager there was no one else working in that area and he’d accepted that as fact. Why wouldn’t he? I didn’t know it at the time because we were both completely distraught. However, as a result of that accident the large pay-out had meant that the two of us didn’t have to worry about money. That was one of the reasons mum didn’t have to work. It was also why she never pushed me to find a job, not even a paper round. However, other kids at school couldn’t wait to get a job... independence is what they wanted. At the same time, I remember someone saying I was now the ‘man of the house’ and that notion also seemed to lodge in my brain. So much so that when I came to be at an age where I could leave and find a job, that’s just what I decided to do. I’d had enough schooling and done reasonably well with my exam results. So, at eighteen it was time to be a man, take on some responsibility and make my way in the world. I had no intention of leaving home I just thought I’d feel ‘better’ if I had a job. I’d be a man like dad. However, I might have over-estimated just how much I could contend with now that fact was here, because, obviously, my stress levels had hit manic highs and I was wetting, and shitting myself with worry. Just look at me, a mess, who the hell was I kidding? More importantly how the hell was I going to contend with a job? # With mum’s revelations that it was dad who was keen on the dummy and didn’t disapprove of his son wearing a nappy when stressed out, got me trying to remember more about him. Of course I had memories but not the same as mum had. He was always loving and encouraging and from a very early age he’d make up stories and lie next to me at bedtime telling such wonderful tales of when he was young, yet somehow making me feel he was talking about me. I’d often drift off before he finished them and beg him the following night to start again. Quite often I’d drift off several times before I heard the entire story and some mornings, I now remembered, I woke up to wet jammies. A couple of nights of bed wetting and I was put back into nappies for a while until I had the damp nights behind me. Perhaps, when I think about it, I wore nappies more often than I remembered but neither mum nor dad would tell me off or make a fuss. Dad especially would just smile and tell me what a good boy I was being. He never made me feel bad about any of it. I think, even now and throughout wearing the occasional bit of protection, dad’s encouragement, no matter how obliquely, had made it ‘okay’ to wear such an item no matter what age I was and the same with my dummy. Dad made being a boy less stressful by giving me things he’d probably used to get by as a boy himself. I’m not sure just how taxing my young life was but the fact I now happily use a dummy or wear a nappy to relieve any anxiety means, even to this day, the idea to do so is deep in my subconscious. Yet despite these stress relievers, I am still riddled with anxiety and doubt. Heaven knows what I’d be like if I didn’t have them throughout my life. It’s that circle again – worrying about worrying leads to more worry and the outcome doesn’t change. I need my dum-dum and nappy. # “Get a move on slowcoach.” Mum was berating me for taking my time in deciding what I wanted to wear. “Personally, I think you need all this stuff for your first day, just to be on the safe side.” She held up the new colourful thick disposable. “However, don’t forget the anti-rash cream and powder first, it will...” “Mum, I don’t think I can go, I really don’t.” “Nonsense, of course you can, so, let’s have no more stonewalling. Do you want me to do it?” I could see from the determination in her eye that she wasn’t going to let me back out but the thought that dad had to get me ready for my first day at junior school, then mum for my first day at high school, seemed to be a pattern that I should break. “No mum, sorry, I’ll get myself sorted.” “Are you sure? I don’t mind?” “No, I’m fine just a moment’s panic.” “Yes love I can see that but don’t think about it, just do it and then you’ll feel a lot better. Don’t worry love... it’s all going to be fine.” # When I eventually arrived at the kitchen mum had got a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea ready for breakfast. I’d put on everything she’d left out and despite reservation, thought the onesie held everything in place just fine. In fact, it gave me a little more bounce to my step, which I hoped might be mistaken for confidence. “You look fine love and, with your jacket on, no one will notice what you’re wearing.” Mum straightened my tie and kissed my forehead. I smiled wanly and having left half the sandwich and cup of tea, I was just too nervous to eat the lot, I set off for the bus. There were two other people waiting, one of whom was our neighbour Mrs Fisher, who animatedly asked me if I was excited about starting my first job. I nodded but hoped she didn’t question me further as I was trying to block my growing anxiety and the obvious bulge the padding made in my pants. She chirruped all the way into town and was still in full flow when I got up for my stop. “Good luck love.” I smiled my thanks and found myself right outside the place of work for the next... I didn’t know for how many years. I entered reception and felt the anxiety flow into my new, super childish but very thick disposable as I was given a name badge by a cheerful receptionist and told to make my way to the second floor. I didn’t realise there would be others starting at the same time but we were a small group of four who were there for the first day’s orientation. All three other newbie’s were degree students who had just left university clutching their diplomas. I felt like a little pretender in their company and despite good grades at school, didn’t have that piece of paper that said I was clever. It also made me the youngest of the team and the lady conducting the orientation class, Mrs Garfield, was very nice about how impressed they’d been at my interview. “You may be the youngest but we anticipate great things from you.” She was being encouraging but wasn’t sure if it was because I looked so scared. She had a very ‘Mumsie’ way about her and, as Head of HR, would be my contact for any questions. Meanwhile, I eventually reasoned that I must have something if I was in the same intake so...? Unfortunately, that understanding only came after I’d filled my nappy even more with nervous though stress relieving pee. # Throughout the orientation I didn’t realise that I kept my hand in my pocket and was anxiously squeezing the dummy I’d taken for support. I had no intention of suddenly slipping it between my lips but wanted it there as a sort of comfort blanket and in those early few minutes proved its worth. Meanwhile, the super, childish but thick disposable was doing a fine job. Impressively, despite my flood, I didn’t feel wet at all. We were told about the company and its history. We signed various forms and then taken on a tour of the building and shown what each department contributed before arriving at where we would be working - I was to be a Junior Lab Research Assistant. The other three would be Lab Technicians so I guessed that at some point I’d probably be working for them in some capacity. When I originally applied for the job it was as on some apprentice scheme and my grades meant I was an ideal candidate for what they were offering. Despite asking at the interview what exactly it was I’d be doing, it was kept pretty vague. I didn’t mind because I thought I’d be better here because that meant I’d use my brain rather than anything physical. Dad was a physical man but I was more like mum a little soft around the edges. I wonder if that was why dad was so protective. Now dad was back in my head I was wondering if, in his absence, he’d been preparing me for this moment. Perhaps he knew I’d have problems with anxiety (mixed with adulthood) and he was giving me a couple of useful things to help relieve that problem. He couldn’t completely take away my anxiety but he could put into place those things that would be of benefit. Thankfully, they were items I appreciated rather than resented. Is that how it works? Well I could wonder about what he did or didn’t want for me but this was my decision and although I’d been pleased at getting the job, there was no denying I was trickling into my pants in apprehension. I had no idea where all this liquid was coming from but nonetheless it was continuous. What was a surprise was that we would be wearing white lab coats whilst in the building so any worries I had about hiding my bulky protection would be concealed by that. Yes a result! # Professor Amid Rashaan was in charge of the department where I was to work and there must have been about thirty or so others beneath him. My boss was to be Technical Supervisor Adam Tridwell who was very welcoming but I later found that to be just a front for, as my colleagues called him, ‘an utter devious and self-serving twat’. To begin with my ‘work’ would be just to fetch and carry for everyone else, general factotum I believe is the technical term but in all honesty, I didn’t expect much more to begin with. I hardly expected them to instantly let me loose on their main project. However, all working surfaces had to be kept spotless and that was my job to ensure a biological germ-free zone. I’d like to tell you exactly what it was we did at the labs but I’d signed a NDA and an Official Secrets form, so I have to keep schtum. However, you can look up Collins Scientific Development UK and see for yourselves. So, the first day was boring but I liked the people I worked with and at least a few of them had a sense of humour that made the hours pass relatively quickly. My nappy felt full and annoying so by 6pm when my day finished, I was glad to be on my way home. Apart from a very soaked nappy I was pleased to get the first stress-laden day over with and on the bus home I think for the first time that day I relaxed. Unfortunately, I relaxed a little too much and dozed off for just a few seconds. Regrettably, the constant nervous stomach twinges wasn’t just that, so with a sudden release of pressure, I did what I’d been avoiding to do all day. I took what I hoped would be a cautious fart but unfortunately it was more and filled the back of my nappy. Thankfully I only had another two stops to go so looked around at others as I sniffed accusingly and got off the bus. # I felt stupid and guilty, and what’s more I’m sure I didn’t fool anyone once I’d got off because the smell would have gone with me. I’d have to remember not to catch my ride home at that particular time in future in case anyone recognises me and remembers what a shitty passenger I was. Mum was waiting at the door for me all full of excitement and desperate to know how my first day had gone. Alas, I think she could tell from my self-conscious waddle up the pathway that I had more than usual in my pants. “Oh love,” she grimaced in sympathy. “Not another accident?” “Just as I got off the bus,” I lied. The entire day’s excretions were now residing in my well-contained nappy and I’m sure those happy cartoon character wished they had someone more dependable to wear them. (Yes, it had got so bad I was feeling sorry for those colourful creations on the disposable) However, once I’d got to my room and collected a few items, moved to the bathroom and stripped down, I had to admit that everything mum had told me I’d need, I needed and I’d been kept from any embarrassment until I got safely home. The new nappies (plus pads) were in fact brilliant at soaking up and storing a great deal of pee and poop. # I noticed mum had moved a new nappy bin into the corner of the bathroom and knew I didn’t need one of them for disposables so suspected mum wanted me to use the fabric ones more often. However, at that time I was holding one of my old pull-ups so, after a pretty thorough clean up, slipped it on and immediately felt better. It was like it was all just a natural process now and a pull-up or nappy appeared to be the right thing to keep everything in check. Back in my bedroom and it felt different although I couldn’t immediately see any major change. Mum had of course changed the bedding but I noticed that on the pillow she’d left one of the new fabric nappies, no doubt she had a good reason for this. I checked my drawers and found that she’d used the top two to display a selection of thick cartoon disposables, white, green, blue and purple disposables and a selection of different pull-up styles. I think mum was having a bit of fun because I’m sure they were lined up in order of cuteness. In the bottom drawer were my usual undies. In the wardrobe the new onesies were hung up and a shelf had been cleared to make way for the selection of fabric nappies. I hadn’t realised how many more pairs of different coloured plastic pants she’d bought but they had a section of their own as well. And despite the area that they all now occupied, I’m sure it was only half of what had arrived in that big box. In my bedside cabinet were a couple of pairs of pull-ups and a couple of new dummies. Mum obviously wanted to make sure I was equipped for any accident or emergency. I smiled when I thought about mum jiggling things around, lining stuff up in a particular order, spending her day reorganising my room to fit stuff in and make it all easily accessible. # Mum wanted to know everything about my day and over our evening meal I told her. “Where you as nervous as you thought you’d be?” She gently enquired to get the conversation rolling. I remember peeing in the nappy even as I walked through the company entrance and it didn’t get much better throughout the day but, oddly, wearing such heavy protection helped. However, I wanted to be more positive to mum. “Yes, there were three others, all out of uni, all starting at the same time so found out at the orientation I was the ‘junior’. Thankfully, I could have felt a bit overawed but wearing my new super-duper nappy amazingly gave me confidence”. “Well, on that subject... how about, you know, the, erm, nappy... did it do its job?” I should have known this would be of a great deal of interest to her so couldn’t pretend otherwise. “Yes mum, it was all fine and I’m very grateful to you organising such absorbent and robust disposables... and the rest. I see you’ve been busy...” I looked up to my room by way of indicating exactly what I meant. I didn’t think I had to spell it out to her. She smiled a knowing smile. “That’s what mum’s are there for.” “Hmmm, really?” I said it as if I was fed up with the entire process but mum knew better and grinned as I tried to pretend I wasn’t actually very, very grateful for her forward thinking. “So,” she said pretending to be smug, “cartoon nappies aren’t so bad after all then?” She patted my padding. “I suspect you’ve got one on now haven’t you?” “Ahh, for the first time you’re wrong. Ha-ha, I’m wearing a pull-up so, you see, I’m a man of mystery and self-determination.” “I bet they’re the ones with Spider-Man on.” She said knowingly... and was correct. We both burst out laughing. # “So you spent the entire day sorting out my drawers?” I teased. “Just tidying up and putting stuff away darling, didn’t want to leave anything lying around.” “Well it looks like you had some fun cataloguing it all.” “To be honest son, I loved it. I think I was more excited than you but I just loved every single item and I think they’ll be a great asset to your wardrobe.” She smiled. “So, you don’t expect me not needing them any time soon?” I gestured, a double negative, but think I’d known the answer to that question for quite some time even if it was phrased so badly. “I think you know that things, certainly at the moment, are not improving.” She waited for me to agree but I just sort of shrugged. “So, I don’t want you to worry if things remain the same for any length of time. We have it covered.” Things didn’t sound very precise but I knew what she meant. I could feel myself filling the front of my Spider-Man pull-ups. In fact, it was the warmth I felt first before realising what I’d done... again. I was suddenly struck by the fact that in the past pull-ups had hardly contained any major leak and I hadn’t put on any plastic pants. Meanwhile mum continued... “I’ve said all along sweetheart that it’s a difficult time for you. Pressures from all corners but you mustn’t worry. We have it covered and no one but you and I need be any the wiser, alright?” She looked earnestly at me to see that she meant it. I briefly wondered if she’d had anything similar with dad. As always she was trying to be supportive and encouraging but I began to feel my pull-up leak. She saw my sudden change of mood and asked if I was OK but I guess she guessed exactly what was happening and told me to get myself off to change. “And don’t forget your plastic pants this time sweetie... you know they make sense AND they act as another line of defence, so what’s not to like, hm?” I gave a hefty sigh but was actually looking forward to trying one of the other fluffy and crinkly disposables, which I hoped would prove less leaky than the pull-up I was about to deal with. Mum had gone to an awful lot of trouble and I wondered if she wasn’t enjoying it too much? Then, as I opened my top drawer and saw all the items arranged in such a colourful display, perhaps it was a matter of making the best of it... and if you get to enjoy it... so much the better. However, there on my bed was a new fabric nappy just waiting to be applied. Mum came up after a few moments and looked at me and said. “Let’s try one of these for tonight shall we? I think fabric at night and disposables during in the day don’t you?” Mum could see I was trying not to look eager to try them out but I nodded so then she took charge. # tbc #

Nothing finer than a thick nappy... or is there? Thanks for your comment and hope you continue to enjoy the story.? Sorry Eagle but there are no sisters to punish him just his adoring mother and she's only going to set about him with hugs and kisses.? Yes he is a lucky boy but... is his luck going to hold?? Glad you're enjoying it... hope that continues as we get to know Jason and his world a little better. ?

Part 2 “Jason, do you like to wear nappies?” She didn’t ask if I liked these Durable nappies in particular it was more a general enquiry. The question took me by surprise because, although we’re pretty straight with each other, that query seemed to come out of nowhere. I suppose that’s silly really. After all that’s happened over the years and more especially over the last few weeks you’d think I’d have some inkling mum might think that way. “Errmmm,” was how I answered. There was no accusation to her enquiry and no sense that she wanted to trip me up if I answered a certain way. Mum wasn’t like that but I could tell she thought it might be a possibility. So even if I wasn’t sure, she certainly suspected it might be the case. Mum’s eh? Now then, admission time - since mum got me those Durable Slips (disposable nappies) I have in fact worn them more often than not. The reason being that when I didn’t wear them I felt vulnerable and the vulnerability meant I leaked. I know, I know, there’s no reason at all that the two things should be linked and I’ve had this discussion with myself and mum... and she just hugs me and says, ... “it’s always best to be on the safe side.” Eighteen and wearing nappies and rather substantial rubber pants. I’m sure it wouldn’t be ideal for most teenagers and I’d like to think I’m not fine with it either, except it appears I am. “Well sweetheart, do you?” I wasn’t going to get out of this with a shrug and vagueness so I nodded. I didn’t think, considering the circumstances, I could deny the fact. Especially as I say, I was wearing a rather thick nappy and a pair of nappy-hugging vinyl pants at that moment. “Erm... maybe I don’t mind.” “Look love, it’s alright by me, I don’t have a problem with any way you choose to dress. I just want to make sure you have everything you need and aren’t worried about anything.” Well, I was worried a little about the direction this conversation was going but mum knew me too well and I couldn’t just walk away. “Like what?” I shrugged unable to think of anything... well, anything specific. “Well, for instance. Do you have the right creams and lotions to prevent nappy rash? Maybe you’d like to wear something different and are scared to buy it or ask me to get it for you? Perhaps you’re not happy that it’s something you like and feel, well, guilty. I don’t exactly know, but, I want you to know that I’ll support you in any way I can and, as with everything else, you can depend on me.” Now, that was a nice little speech. I’ve never doubted mum for a second... ever... and I still don’t but she was making things sound official whereas I still thought of it as my anxiety and I’d eventually be over it. She popped the dummy between my lips and hugged me close. “I want my baby boy to be happy and if that means he wears nappies then so be it.” I could have just carried on sucking and let mum’s warmth and love engulf me but I wanted to explain a little bit even if I was unsure what I was going to say next. I removed the dummy. “Mum, I don’t know... I mean... uuummmm... since you bought these,” I ran my hands over the Durable, “I’ve felt much calmer but I still end up soaking them and don’t seem to have any control over that... I don’t understand why.” I was dubious about looking at mum to see if she had an explanation but she just patted my padded bottom and hugged me some more. “Look love,” she took a deep breath. “There have been times, throughout your life,” she rubbed the front of my bulging nappy and pointed to my dummy, “when certain items have brought you comfort in trying times.” It was true... and she gently reinserted the dummy to where it belonged. “I don’t know if I’ve told you this but it was your father’s idea to let you keep the dummy.” I looked up at her as this was entirely new information. “Not that I was against it but was always told by his mother, your granny, that it helped through anxious times when he was young, so no one should belittle a dummy’s use. It was him not me that made sure you always had one nearby just in case you needed it. So, as it never bothered him when it helped calm you down it never bothered me. I could see the sense in what your grandmother advised because it worked.” How come I’d waited eighteen years to hear this tiny, but influential, piece of my history? My dum-dum appeared to have played a more important part in my life than I’d previously given it credit for. I mean, granny had never mentioned it, dad never mentioned it, so how come mum’s only mentioning it now? We didn’t see granny that much these days because she retired to a home on the south coast where she seems very happy. However, when we do get a chance to visit she’s always keen that I’m happy and loves to hug and pat me all the time. I never thought about it before but wondered if she’s checking if I’m padded. My reaction to this news was I simply sighed because the thought of dad not being here was always a sad thought that got my emotions all tangled up and I’d find myself sobbing (and sometimes peeing). Perhaps dad was responsible because he knew, or suspected, I was like him and got anxious about anything and everything. But that didn’t explain why now I was wearing nappies and apparently not that worried about doing so... or maybe I was and that’s why I wet them. A sort of circle; one thing leading to another, leading to another and eventually ending up back where I started? I was more than a little confused and wondered why this little titbit of information had never been revealed before. It’s not like there had never been an opportunity but that would have to wait because I had something else on my mind. I began to wonder about mum’s words “I want my baby boy to be happy” I mean, I’m hardly a baby but, with the way things have gone, is that how she now sees me? “People have different needs,” she continued but looked sombre. “When your father died... I found it very difficult to cope. The sudden loss of my wonderful husband hit me hard but the thing I was grateful for... I had you.” She hugged tightly. “My worry then was how would you cope? You were eight and struggling with the loss as well but, and you may not have been aware of it, you were strong and I believe you knew I wasn’t coping so made every effort to relieve my suffering,” stroking my head as she often did when wanting to make a loving point. “It was you and the things you did and said that kept me from... well... I don’t know what... but you lifted me from the depths of great depression and...” “Maaawwwmm.” I said emotionally through the dummy. I didn’t want her to get depressed as she remembered dad’s death. “You did love.” She perked up a bit. “Things like bringing some little flowers you’d picked. Or a drawing of me, you and dad you’d done at school. There were several times when I was at my most, well, depressed doesn’t really cover it but I was down and you, my little flower, bounced me right back. It wasn’t your job to lift me up but you did and for that I’m eternally grateful.” I was trying to hide the fact that I was weeping but I looked up and saw mum had tears in her eyes as well. “You managed your own grief by sucking on your dum-dum and the picture of you doing that made me less stressed because you looked so sweet and innocent. I don’t know exactly why but it did... and we became even closer. Perhaps because it had been your dad’s idea and it felt, in some way, he was still with us when you popped it in.” She shrugged, as if partly dismissing the very notion. I wondered if it was a thought that had just popped into her head or was there more to it. Is this why she’s happy for me to use the dummy, and whatever else, because it brings back memories of dad? Did I have a residual memory of it happening and that’s why I do it now? Have I used the dummy so much I’m now reliant on it to solve all my problems? “Maawwmmm,” and we hugged tightly together for what seemed ages. The front of my nappy warmed slightly as a similar feeling grew throughout my body. # “Mum, what did you mean you wanted your baby boy to be happy?” I eventually asked. “Just what I say sweetheart,” she patted my padding. “But mum, I’m eighteen... hardly a baby boy.” “Oh sweetheart... look... you’ve always been my baby, I’ve never stopped calling you that, or love, or darling, or loads of other pet names I have for you.” “But baby boy?” “Well love,” she said emphasising the word love, “You’ll always be my baby because it doesn’t matter whether your eighteen months, eight, or eighteen years old... you will remain my baby boy. So, you can look forward to your thirty-eighth and forty-eighth birthdays and I’ll still be calling you my baby.” “Oh,” I said a little defensively, “it just seemed that because I’m wearing a nappy you thought, umm, or I thought, ermmm, you might think.... mmmm...” “No love, it’s not meant in a negative way and I’m not trying to baby you. Mother’s always think of their kids as their babies... and it has nothing to do with whether you wear a nappy or not. It’s the way mum’s especially think of their children.” She smiled her reassurance. “They will always be their babies who need love and looking after no matter how old and independent they become. It’s what a mum does.” “OK, thanks mum.” “No, thank you my sweet baby boy.” She chuckled as I was released from her hug. I just oozed contentment from behind my dummy as we got back to being ourselves the warmth in my nappy adding to my sense of wellbeing. # Although I’d taken mum to task for calling me a baby, no matter how innocently, the term entered my head but any resentment about the word quickly faded to one of acceptance. Now, before anyone jumps to the wrong conclusion, I didn’t want to be treated as a baby, I just accepted that to mum, I would always be her baby boy. Maybe it helped in that understanding because I was wearing a nappy and sucking on my dummy, though I’d like to think not - although that is perhaps a little naïve of me. In a couple of days I’d be starting work and my childhood would be behind me... perhaps that was a bigger jump than I thought it would be. Maybe, all this nappy business was a reaction, an unintentional, emotional reaction, to that very fact. Unfortunately, that’s what was going through my mind when I realised I was filling the nappy yet again. The amount of warm pee making me once more glad I was wearing protection. I began to think of what mum said about how anxiety often got the better of dad when he was growing up and I wondered if perhaps he’d also had problems with unexpectedly wet pants. “Mum, was dad full of anxiety like me?” I tried to make it sound like a natural question but could tell it was quite loaded. Mum sighed. “Yes love he was anxious most of his life. His anxiety made him question everything and check and re-check whatever he was doing.” “Am I really that much like dad?” “I think so sweetheart, I think so.” She nodded and sniffed back a sob. “Your father was one of the best - a loving dad and husband but he worried. At times I saw the anxiety etched on his face though he tried to hide it. He didn’t always talk about it, which I wish he had, maybe I could have helped but...” The rest was left unsaid. I wanted to ask if he wet himself but for some reason thought such a question would somehow tarnish his memory. I wandered back up to my room to change and noticed that I was down to my last couple of Durables, although I still had a selection of pull-ups left. I changed to a pull-up and plastic pants under my jeans and, thinking to change the mood I’d left, told her that I was nearly out of disposables. “Yes love,” she bucked up immediately, “I noticed that so I’ve already ordered some more and they’ll be with us first thing tomorrow so don’t worry.” She was grateful we had something else to talk about. “Oh, erm, thanks mum... did you think I’d need some more?” “Well sweetie, you’re going through them pretty quickly and I noticed you were nearly out so I was just thinking ahead. I’ve never ordered online before so this was a first.” “I suppose if they don’t arrive I can always pop along to the pharmacy for some.” I offered as a helpful suggestion. “Yes, although they did promise delivery... I even have a 10.30am time slot... which I thought was quite splendid.” She checked her phone as if to reassure herself. # At 10.47 the following day a delivery van pulled up outside our house and a small, wiry driver, wearing a brown polyester shirt and shorts, struggled up the pathway pushing a huge box on a trolley. Mum answered the door and signed something. I think she found the entire process new and exciting. “Well, the delivery people are very efficient aren’t they? Only a few minutes late and I’ve even got a message on my phone to say ‘your package is on its way’ and here it is... amazing.” Mum was impressed and I knew she was making a mental note about using the facility again at some point. However, all I could think was ‘what an awfully big box full of nappies’. She must be expecting me to need them for the rest of my life. I manoeuvred it into the front room where mum had gone and retrieved a knife from the kitchen to slit the taped seal. She looked excited and once the thing was open I could see why. She’d ordered a plethora of disposables in all colours, some with childish designs on them. Plus more plastic pants, large terry type nappies and a couple of onesies. “What the hell mum!” I was angry because this all looked so bloody infantile and made a lie about her comment about me being her baby boy. “I can’t wear any of this it’s, it’s, it’s.... bloody hell mum, what were you thinking?” Mum looked quite shocked at my reaction. “Sorry love I guess I got carried away. I mean,” she held up one of the packs of colourful cartoon disposables, “they said in the advert on the site that these were thicker and absorbed more than any other and I just thought you deserved the best. It didn’t occur to me that, as no one else would see them, you’d be all that worried about the pattern.” “But mum,” I whined a little but she’d taken the wind out of my argument and anger by saying she only wanted the best for me. However, these really did look childish so I wondered where the hell she’d bought them... what site had she been on? “It’s OK Jason, look, what you don’t want we can send back... no problem. It said that as long as the packages are intact...” “And what’s the idea with these?” I held up the onesies in disgust. “Well, you’re starting work soon and, from experience, if you wear a nappy, to prevent it sagging, a onesie that fastens there,” she pointed to my crotch, “holds it up and in place and more-or-less prevents drooping from happening.” “Ohh, I see, ermmm...” Again, mum had been thinking ahead and I was seething because I thought she was, well, you know. “Sorry mum, I just thought...” I shrugged and felt a fool. I don’t know why I’d let the term ‘baby boy’ become so important. I thought I’d got past it but it irked and annoyed and... I just didn’t like it because, well, it made me feel like that’s what I was becoming. Then it struck me. That was it. It was me who was worried about the expression, not mum using it. I was worried that nappies and a dummy at eighteen meant I was still a baby even though I had no desire to be that... at least that’s what I think. “We’ve been through this.” Mum was looking a bit exasperated. “Why would I want to make you feel self-conscious about any of this? I just want what’s best for you and as you’re having enough anxiety thinking about the job I hoped I could relieve some of it by taking on the easy bit... getting you a fresh supply for when you need it. The site I found offered loads of stuff for a growing lad who might need a bit of help,” she pointed to my groin, “in that particular area.” Mum looked a bit hurt at me being angry with her. Of course she didn’t shout or create she just got on with things. Thinking about it I should be grateful for her being so thoughtful. I’m an idiot. # We emptied the box and did an inventory of what she’d bought. I was impressed because there were plenty of disposables and the new fabric nappies felt really soft and thick. The plastic pants were in a variety of colours and even a couple of new dummies should I want them. All-in-all mum had in enough supplies to last for a few months if things didn’t improve once I started work. It was strange but after mum had said she only wanted what was best for me I sort of went along with all these things, I mean they were all fantastic and her enthusiasm for each product had us giggling at just how thick the cartoon disposables might end up being. However, I don’t think mum was of the opinion I’d be out of nappies anytime soon. She’d asked if I liked wearing them and I’d admitted to doing so... I didn’t think I could deny it. She was actually supplying me with the very thing I needed, even before I really accepted that fact myself. Mum was always ahead of the game and couldn’t have been nicer or more prepared about it “Look love,” she shrugged but smiled, “I don’t know for definite you’re going to need all this stuff but I have known you for quite a while.” She beamed at her own silly observation. “Almost a lifetime,” I added with an equally wry smile. “That long, eh?” “Almost” “Well then, it’s here, it’s available and it’s up to you what you want to do with it.” I was grateful for her love and astuteness so we cuddled over this pile of new ‘stuff’. “Thanks mum.” Tomorrow I start work. # tbc #

Hi Eagle0769 From the start of the story, scroll down 6 # to the paragraph starting - I think I need to add a bit of an explanation here. It's quite short but might give a little more context if needed. Thanks for your interest. Hugs Les

Thanks guys it's always pretty wonderful to get this kind of feedback... glad you're enjoying it. Meanwhile, I've added a paragraph by way of explanation as to why the pull-ups started because I wasn't sure it was clear or that the timeline was a bit confusing. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has read it so far and the new chapter should be available soon. Hugs to you all Les

Dummy? “Look Jason, you know you need it. How it relaxes you AND I know you’ve relied on it to get you through some tough times. So, all I’m saying is don’t give it up just because of your age. It would be silly to throw away something useful that’s got you to where you are now.” Mum was making sense, she always did. I’d had my dum-dum, sorry dummy, since a child and throughout those years it had helped me stay calm when I thought I’d worry myself to death. She’d always insisted that the calming influence of sucking on a dummy was the best way to deal with stress and so, despite growing up, whenever I was faced with an anxious decision mum would produce one and leave it at the side of the bed to use ‘if needed’. It’s amazing she’s able to find one that fit but how right she continues to be because the power of a little sucking still works. Where some of my school friends spiralled into early dabbling with drugs, drink or depression, I was still gaining comfort from a tiny piece of plastic with a silicon teat. Mum always had one at hand but, when she saw me struggling and because of my reticence to rely on it as I grew older, would dig it from its hiding place and make sure I knew it was available. Its magical appearance made me less shy about using it. Yes, I know it sounds stupid and makes me sound like a little kid and I suppose that’s why I’m hesitating to use one now. I’m eighteen and just about to start my first job and to say I’m terrified would be an understatement. It’s a huge leap from the relative ease of school to being at a place where responsibility goes without saying. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a job that I wanted, in a company where I wanted to work and where I’d be using my limited skills in an area where I’m comfortable, but, I’m still worried I might fail. The reason for this sudden stock-take is that now I have a job I feel I should be more adult and thinking that being reliant on a dummy is a childish throwback so should be something I’m long past. Nevertheless, mum’s insistence that she’d rather see me with a dummy in my mouth than a can of beer or a ciggy has kept me focused on her reassuring words. # Mum and I are very close so I listen to what she has to say and she’s never steered me wrong. Of course she smothers me in affection and even at eighteen still does my laundry and irons my clothes. I’m lucky to have such a parent (dad having died when I was eight), who still wants to lavish all her love on me as I grow up. Since dad died mum hasn’t needed to work. She’s taken the occasional part-time job but was always home to greet me on my return from school. Money wasn’t a problem as she had dad’s insurance and an inheritance that kept the two of us fairly independent of the need to work. However, I didn’t want to continue at school and when this job came up and I applied, I was so excited when they said I’d got it. Mum was proud of me as well but told me not to rush into anything. But there was an overpowering need, in my head at least, that I just wanted to contribute even though I didn’t have to. I know at my age I should be independent and I am, mum never puts restrictions on me and I’m allowed to be myself but she’s never stopped caring and although wants me to make my own decisions, she’s always there with words or actions or directions that help the situation. “Mummy’s boy” is what some people may think, and I can’t say they’re wrong because we are very close. I think most people are who have lost someone significant become even closer but perhaps that’s just my experience. I know mum is protective without being over protective. As I say, I’m eighteen, about to start a job but really I’m at that stage in my life where I want to be adult but then think I prefer not to have to make decisions. I’m five feet, seven inches tall, not very muscular and in some ways, the testosterone some of my school mates have coursing through their veins has yet to course too far around my body. Having said that, mum never complains, she lets me be me and thankfully, she quite likes who I am despite all the anxiety I bring to every situation. I’m a worrier. I’m lucky because some of my mates have a horrendous time with their parents and can’t wait to get away from their clutches at the earliest opportunity, or are full of antagonism because things aren’t going their way. It’s not like that with mum because I’ve never felt I was in competition with her. She leaves me to get on with my own stuff if I need the space but she’s there with a comforting cuddle if that’s what she feels I need. I should say mum always seems to know exactly what I need. So, over the years, a dummy has proved to be an effective way of keeping me from getting too uptight. However, at eighteen, should I be relying on such a childish item? # Mum said that I had my dum-dum until I started school at five years old and only spasmodically from then until I started senior school and had homework, which apparently I got very stressed about. During that period she said that I only used one if I was ill or having trouble sleeping. So from being five until eleven years old I rarely used one... as far as I remember. Mind you, mum has been very non-committal about my recollection on this point. However, as far as I remember, there has always been a dummy available. Well, mum always had one available, as she thought it was a salve to whatever was ailing or upsetting me. She always knew it was time to resurrect my dum-dum because I’d be gnawing on my fingernails, chewing the end of pens or occasionally sucking my thumb. Apparently, once I started to worry about things at school, I worried about everything... and every little thing seemed to cause some anxiety. There were times during that period where I know she’d slip it between my lips as I dozed and I’d automatically just nurse without realising I was doing so. Mum said it was a sure fire way of helping me cope with whatever was going on in my head and any restlessness often departed under its soothing influence. That’s part of the reason mum thinks it’s silly to lose the benefits of it now. Being eighteen and about to start work she says is probably the time when I could well need it the most. She’s worried I would start fretting over its loss as well as anything else that might crop up at work to make me... well... unbelievably fretful. # Now, as you might have guessed, I’m a pretty anxious type of guy. I fret over many things both big and small though I have no idea why. It’s not like I’m in charge of events that shape the world, or even my home, but still I can get in a state over whether I’ve turned the gas off, unplugged the TV at night or worried about some news story that I can do nothing about. Let alone worry about all the exams and tests I’ve taken at school over the years. I have to say that these last few terms at school have been OK, except when exams were planned, but just the thought of such anxiety-driven things could set me off and into a spiral of worry that has nothing to do with what the original anxiety was about. Mad eh? I needed my dummy every night when I revised and became troubled I wouldn’t know enough. That was despite the fact I always got reasonable grades and was pretty okay in tests. That didn’t stop me worrying all the time and thankfully, a soothing dummy helped me through it all. Though not whilst I sat the exams, that’s when the end of my pen acted as a substitute - I chewed through about a million of them. Although, when I think about it, I wasn’t the only one sucking on their pen during exams so perhaps many others had access to a dummy away from school... when needed? # Whilst I’m being honest, also during those frantic times of revision, I needed a little bit of help elsewhere. Mum noticed that I’d have occasional leaks whilst I slept so required me to wear GoodNites. I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse not to, and they felt just like slightly padded underpants, so I had few objections. In the morning though, when I woke to find them quite expanded, I was glad mum had made me wear them. I wore them for several weeks and she was always on top of my problems. That was typical mum, always there giving me just what was required. I suppose she still does and that’s why she said I should hang on to the dummy until I’m certain I no longer want it. The pull-up saga began one Friday night when mum and I were watching TV as usual. It was still in school term time and had been revising pretty heavily so this was a nice break. However, even though actually sitting my exams was a few days off over the last couple of nights I’d begun to fret over how well I’d do and this had produced one or two leaky mornings, which I’d tried to hide. Mum drifted up to bed and an hour or so later I turned off the TV and ventured up myself. There on the bed was a pack of adult pull-ups and a pair of white vinyl pants. I wasn’t angry just wondered what I’d said or done that mum knew I needed such items because I thought I’d been pretty careful about leaving damp pants around. Anyway, it was too late to go and ask so ruefully stripped off my clothes and opened the package of a dozen pull-ups. I stood there for some time wondering if I should or shouldn’t, although it was fairly obvious I would slip one on. I knew it was sensible, I knew they were practical and above all I knew mum wouldn’t have bought them and left them out if she didn’t think they’d be helpful. Obviously, I was getting a bit anxious about this entire situation until I decided it would be for the best to at least try them for the night and see what happened. Once I’d made the decision, and the fluffy, pale blue and yellow pull-up was in place, everything just felt right and I was able to relax. I wasn’t sure about the plastic pants but knew that if mum had left them out there was a reason. However, I didn’t feel I needed them at that moment as I stood and looked at myself in the mirror and hoped I’d made the right choice. There was an emblem of a car on the front, which although quite childish, I liked... it looked fun. As I’d had a couple of near misses in the recent past realised a return to GoodNites for a few nights, might be a good idea but I didn’t want mum to think this was a regular occurrence. I mean, I don’t want to keep secrets from her but I know she’ll be there with another pack or two and I’m not sure those leaks are that bad (so, that’s just another thing I’m getting myself in a state over). I know it’s stupid worrying about worrying, especially if its worrying about something that doesn’t need worrying over... if that makes any sense at all? # Anyway, the GoodNites looked OK, just a bigger pair of underpants than I would normally wear and then it hit me how mum knew. Because she does my washing daily she must have discovered the various damp pairs of briefs at the bottom of the laundry hamper and put two and two together. Not a lot gets past mum. I smiled to myself because when I think about it mum probably knew about my little ‘mishaps’ long before I acknowledged the problem. Anyway, after slipping a t-shirt over my head I crawled under the covers and the padding didn’t feel at all intrusive. It hugged my bits and pieces nicely, felt warm and thick, and I thought no more about it as amazingly I quickly fell asleep. I say amazingly because, for the last week or so, once I knew I had the job and the start date drew nearer, I’d been quite anxious turning over and over in my head just what I’d be doing. Still at school but knowing I’d be losing a few friends once I left was more than a little upsetting. Anyway, it was stressful enough for me to need my dum-dum to suck on before sleep, which thankfully had the desired effect of helping soothe away such worries. However, this time I’d fallen asleep without even thinking about my new employment looming, being distracted by the feel of the GoodNite (it actually felt really comforting), and had no need of a dummy so... all seemed good. That was until I woke up soaked, the pull-up had leaked a bit and there were occasional wet patches on the sheets. Not enough to soak everything but enough to show I’d peed my protective pants yet again. As I was pulling off the sheets mum came in and saw me standing there in a soaked pull-up and damp sheets. “Forgot the plastic pants, eh?” There was mild accusation in her question but I knew from the tone she wasn’t angry just a bit sad that I hadn’t taken to the full idea of night time security. “Perhaps tonight?” She raised the question as she took the sheets from me and I nodded in agreement but felt foolish for not doing so in the first place. That was the end of the discussion. I knew mum wouldn’t make a big thing about it now she knew I’d take special care and, as I looked again in the mirror, I saw the thicker padding bulging out and boldly hanging onto my hips. # I think I need to add a bit of an explanation here. When I was sixteen I sat my ‘O’ levels and did pretty well (anxieties aside) and got top grades in seven of them. Now I was sitting ‘A’ levels, which were, as you might expect, more advanced than previous exams, so the pressure was ratcheted up. However, during that time I’d applied for a job and got it despite not having actually sat my exams at the time. Now the job didn’t rely on the results of my ‘A’ levels, they’d be a bonus but of course, being me, I wanted to do well. So, with the job looming, I’d only have a few days between finishing my exams and starting, thus putting even more pressure on me and I suppose the result was... extra-curricular peeing. So mum was correct in getting me some extra protection. # I took a shower and when I returned mum had put on clean sheets and remade my bed but left the plastic pants on the pillow to make sure I remembered when I next went to bed. Not very subtle but I smiled anyway as I could imagine her thinking I wouldn’t miss such a deliberate hint. I threw on a pair of briefs and some shorts as I was meeting a bunch of guys in the park for a kick around and made my way downstairs. “Billy called earlier,” mum said, “he and Mark can’t come.” “Did they say why?” “No but he didn’t sound happy about it. However, you know them better than me... perhaps you should call them.” I did wonder why they hadn’t called me on my mobile but used the landline. I mean, who uses that these days but I knew their parents were pretty strict and although Billy was only a year younger than me, and his brother Mark was fifteen, they were kept on a pretty tight leash. One of the ways their parents punished them was not allowing them to have a mobile phone “... a ridiculous and extravagant expense” Billy told me they said when he and his brother asked for one at Christmas – they got underwear and jumpers instead. In fact, their mum and dad buy all their clothes and they are allowed no say at all in what they wear. Again I was thankful to have a mum like mine because although some of my friends had terrible, uncaring parents, Billy and Mark’s parents were absolute sticklers about their behaviour and any transgression, no matter how minor (or appeared minor to anyone else) was dealt with severely. Over the years I’d seen both Mark and Billy crying because their father had given them a sound belting as a result of some misdemeanour or other. I liked both lads but they were completely terrified of their parents, which I thought was no way to be. I decided it best not to call in case I made things worse. “I’ll go to the park anyway, I’m sure they’ll be some of the guys around so...” “Okay love, do you want a lift as I’m popping into town in a minute so it’s on my way?” Mum was already searching for her bag and keys. “Sure, thanks. Do you need me to do anything when I get back?” I hoped I sounded helpful seeing as how she’s washed my sheets and they were out billowing on the line already. “Peal some potatoes if you fancy. No, on second thoughts, I’m not sure what we’re having for tea tonight so hold fire on that. Just fold the sheets if they’re dry... that would be nice.” “Okay.” And with that we set off. # James, Kili and Ralph were at the park when I arrived but none of them seemed to know what the problem was with Billy and Mark. We were all very aware of the Draconian dictatorship the brothers lived under and that just being near Mr and Mrs Edwards was quite an ordeal. The boys knew every little thing they did was being scrutinised, noted and would be used against them at some point, or at least that’s how it looked. We all kept as far away from their parents as we could because you felt like you were being analysed and generally disapproved of. Meanwhile, back in the park we were chatting and kicking a ball around for over an hour when I suddenly realised that my shorts were wet. It seemed a phantom pee because I had no idea that’s what I was doing. I’d only put a pair of cotton briefs on so there was very little protection and I knew my polyester football shorts would hardly soak stuff up. I looked down and I could see the damp spot enlarge so made up some excuse for having to leave in a hurry. I just hoped, as I had my back to the guys and said my good-bye, none of them noticed. “You OK Jase?” Kili called out. “Yep, just didn’t realise the time, I have to get home... see you guys later, okay?” I walked home with my hand over the front of my shorts (and wished I’d worn the black instead of the white pair) and, as I passed people, sort of moved sideways so as to avoid their gaze and hopefully so they couldn’t see my accident. When I checked again the damp spot had turned the shorts into an off-yellow, transparent disaster zone but as I had nothing else to wear had to put up with it. Even the t-shirt I was wearing wasn’t long enough to hide much of the stain so I started to jog home hoping that by rushing past fellow pedestrians, they wouldn’t have time to notice. I didn’t stop to find out. Back at the house I was relieved mum wasn’t in and didn’t have to make up an excuse. I could put my stuff on to wash and no one would be any the wiser. So, that’s just what I did, changing into a fresh pair of briefs and jeans before setting the machine going. I made myself a bowl of soup for lunch and toasted a couple of slices of bread to dip, a glass of fresh cold milk, mmm lovely. After lunch I checked the sheets on the line out in the garden and they were almost dry but thought could do with a bit longer so waited in front of the telly until my washing had finished. I woke up to find mum shaking me. “Wake up Jason, c’mon love, you need to get up.” She was shaking my shoulder and I sort of shook myself awake surprised that I’d fallen asleep. “You need to change love.” I still wasn’t quite with it and wondered why she was being so insistent. “Love, you’ve wet your pants.” “Erm, what, er, um....” “Just go and change love and I suggest you clean yourself up pretty carefully. Oh, and take off your jeans and undies and I’ll put them on to wash.” “I’ll...” “Now sweetheart I don’t want you dribbling through the house.” So under mum’s watchful and reproachful stare I slowly slid down the offending wet clothes and hid my junk behind my t-shirt. “Oh, and the shirt love it looks wet at the back.” So that was the end of my modesty. # She watched as my naked little bum made its way upstairs and into the bathroom. “The sofa seems fine...” She called out after me but I was too embarrassed to hear any more as I hurried to the bathroom. After the shower I headed to my bedroom but mum was waiting. “Sweetie, are you having problems?” I shook my head no. “Really?” She questioned in disbelief. She held up my now clean footie shorts and briefs. “Erm yer, I, umm,” I stammered for a good excuse but the lie evaded me and I was stuck with the truth. Mum had already sussed what had happened so it seemed stupid to deny it. “Yer, I had a bit of an accident on my way home from the park.” I didn’t want to tell her I was with my mates at the time. “Oh, poor you,” she gave me a gentle hug. “And now you’ve peed you pants for a second time today...” She left that hanging in the air. “So, what are we to do?” I shrugged. “Well, why not put one of your pull-ups on for the time being whilst we sort this out.” “But they’re for nights.” I tried to argue unconvincingly. “Right now sweetie... they for you to be safe... so,” and she produced one from behind her back. “You had this ready.” I was ashamed that my ‘problem’ had come to this. “Just put it on Jason... you know it’s what’s needed at the moment.... and then, if you want, we can chat about the way things are going.” “But I don’t want...” “Oh and don’t forget the plastic pants... please be sensible and put them on as well.” I’m eighteen, yet at that moment I felt like a stupid little kid who needed his mummy to look after him. I felt like mum was making a point, the plain white plastic pants were still on my pillow. Meanwhile she made it known that there were extra pairs of vinyl pants in my top drawer. Mum wanted me to know she’d bought a supply and that they were there to be used. Of course the choice would be mine. I was also angry with myself for falling asleep and letting things unfold without my involvement. I mean, I should have been able to wash a pair of undies and shorts and not leave them as evidence AND, I should be able to fall asleep and not wet my pants.... so all in all, I was pretty pissed off (literally) with myself. # The main point however was the fact that I had no idea why I wet in broad day light. I hadn’t felt overly stressed, I’d been playing footy so had no thoughts of anything else. As the starting day for the job approached, although scary, I hadn’t given that much thought either and yet, I was obviously anxious about something. The reason eluded me so at that moment I thought it better to go along with mum’s suggestion. It didn’t ‘ping’ in my head at the time as it was only later when I thought about it. However, when I fell asleep in front of the TV I’d been thinking about Billy and Mark’s parents. I thought they were somehow mine and I was constantly scared and under suspicion. How I’d hate to be under their jurisdiction so wondered if that had caused the unexpected flow – anxiety about them? Of course, I pulled up the pull-up and grabbed the new vinyl pants and went and found a loose pair of shorts. I checked in the mirror and, although I knew what I was wearing underneath, I didn’t think it showed at all. So that alleviated some of my initial worries right away. I stood for a moment thinking. I mean, this wasn’t the first time I’d wet my pants whilst being grown up. In fact, quite often, when I got anxious there was a little trickle in my undies. As I’ve mentioned before, I’d often try to hide that fact though it now appeared to be not much of a secret. So, as I looked at the slight bulge under my shorts I could feel the thickness of the pull-up, whilst even the slightest movement made me aware of the slipperiness of the plastic pants. Then I began to wonder if the concern and wetting were linked. Or was it just that if I wet I got the comforting hug of protection and that made me feel safe... not unlike the dummy? I was asking myself questions I couldn’t answer and then began to worry about that fact. I looked in my bedside cabinet and saw my dummy waiting to help me over this confusing process but on this occasion I left it and returned to mum in the living room. I had to admit that the padded pull-up the previous night had been a revelation because it had been so comfy and relaxing. # Mum had made us both a cup of tea and was sitting on the sofa waiting. “Sorry mum.” I thought I’d better get in first. “I didn’t mean for...well... any of this.” And I pointed to my groin, so there was no doubt as to what I meant. “I know love.” She said in her usual loving tone and invited me to sit next to her. She looked tenderly into my eyes. “I know you’re at a crossroads sweetheart. Job, future and friends all pulling in various ways and that seems to be having quite an effect on you.” I shrugged but knew she was probably correct in her observation... although it didn’t feel quite like that. “The dummy and the pull-ups..? Both of which we know have you wondering if you’re not too old for such things.” As usual she was reading my mind. “I’m sure it’s making you uncomfortable to know that at your age you’re using them.” I slowly nodded in agreement. “But, and I can’t stress this enough love. What are the alternatives, hmmm?” I looked down at the floor hoping for something, inspiration of some kind, to answer this question. “I think, and I may be wrong,” she started slowly whilst stroking my arm, “that you are over worrying about things. You know you’re going to be brilliant at your job AND you know that no one really knows what the future holds. Thankfully you’ve got a pretty good start with the direction you want to go.” I know mum was trying to help, and usually she does but I had a sudden chilling shiver run down my spine which caught me unawares and I realised that it was more than that. “Mum, that’s just it, I don’t know that. What’s worse, when I think of the future and look around at my mates, the news, the climate... everything, I’m petrified.” “Oh Jason.” She hugged me close and patted my back. “I’ve always been scared and I don’t know why. Mum, what if I fail?” I could feel the worry unexpectedly building from what appeared to be no basis. I was almost hyperventilating with stress. “What if I’m hopeless at this job and they see I’m just a fake, a stupid boy who should never have got it in the first place... mum, what if...” She was holding me tightly but then it all poured out. “None of my friends have jobs yet and those going to Uni are only going because they can’t face the prospect or work. I see some of the older kids who used to go to my school and they’re in gangs or just not functioning... what if that’s me in a month’s time?” As far as I knew these reservations had never been at the forefront of my brain and yet, all this came streaming out easily, as if I’d been thinking about it for ages and it caused me immense pain. “But love, it’s not everybody,” she tried to reassure me, “I’m sure some are successful and just getting on with life... and not worrying...” “But what if it is me? What if I can’t hack it and fail?” Panic in what I was saying suddenly took over my body and I was shaking. “Now sweetie, stop this.” She hugged me tightly and although I had my eyes screwed up to try and hold back the tears... they were imminent. “C’mon love, take this,” I felt her gently push something between my lips, “and let those unnecessary worries go.” Without even giving it a thought I took the dummy in and began to suck. Mum continued to hold me and stroke my back and I began to relax. “I have every faith in you love. I don’t think you’ll fail because you’re bright, good natured and above all, dedicated.” She hugged me all through her little speech and in truth it did make me feel better. “Don’t worry about things you have no control over... you’ll do fine dealing with those you have.” She buried her face in my mop of hair and kissed the top of my head. It’s amazing that mum’s reassuring cuddle was all I really needed to instantly relax me but she added more. “Look love... just lie out, close your eyes and unwind. Let go of all your thoughts and let the rhythm of your dummy calm and comfort you.” I did as she said and she left me to it. It always worked and within seconds I was dozing and drifted into a warm black hole. Nothing coming in, nothing going out - all I could hear was the gentle pulse of my heartbeat which seemed to be in sync with my sucking. I felt all warm and cosy. This was a really nice place to be and I wriggled trying to get deeper within its comforting mental fabric, which was also soft, fluffy and welcoming. Nothing could touch me here. Nothing pricked my mind with thoughts or doubts. I sucked and sucked, I was safe. # Far off I could hear a voice. I strained to hear what was being said but I couldn’t grasp the meaning. The voice got louder and eventually there was a tug on my shoulder. “Wake up love, your tea’s on the table and you won’t sleep tonight.” It was mum once again shaking me back to the real world. I was still sucking on the dummy and I could feel something else. Oh yes, my pull-up felt bloated. “Are you OK sweetheart?” Mum smiled concern. “Olggghh” I began to speak but realised I still had the dummy in. I took it out. “Yes, just a bit groggy.” I didn’t know if she knew what had happened but I’d obviously slept quite deeply and filled the front of my pull-up. “I’ll just be a second I’ve just got to... you know..?” “OK, don’t be long it’s already on the table and will get cold. If you’re going to be a while I’ll shove it in the oven.” I slid a hand down the front of my shorts to do a quick inspection and through the glassy plastic could feel the ruined underwear. I thought I’ll need something stronger and more absorbent in future. I was in two minds whether to change but decided it could wait until I’d eaten and then I’d have more time to see exactly what needed to be done to rectify the situation. I tentatively waddled to the kitchen where mum had made lasagne with what smelled like a freshly baked baguette to dip in the sauce. As I sat down there was a noise that made mum look but didn’t say anything. Although it wasn’t the first time I’d sat in a wet pull-up on this occasion I didn’t realise just how uncomfortable it’d be. Mum saw me wriggling and after we finished looked apprehensive. “Oh darling... another accident?” Although mum knows all about my ‘anxiety issues’ what came next was a bit of a surprise as she’d even guessed that the pull-up might not be strong enough. “Look love, I’ve bought some things a little more absorbent if you feel able to wear them.” # She moved to the cupboard under the sink and produced a pack of ‘Durable Slips’, which was a brand of disposables I’d heard of - thick protection designed for the heavy wetter. I’d seen the adverts in newspapers and online on many occasions. I suspect mum had seen the same and anticipated that I might need them over the coming few weeks as I settled into my new job. She probably guessed that I would have issues like I frequently do. “Don’t you think that’s going a bit too far?” I queried but not really believing my own words. “Well sweetheart, I suspect that the idea has already occurred to you (how did she know?). But, thought I’d get them just in case... of course, it’s up to you whether you want to try them or not.” This had always been the situation. Mum never forced me into anything. She would advise and tell my why she was making any suggestion but it was always up to me to try and sort things out. She just made sure I had the tools needed and then it was up to me to use if it felt right to do so. Mum and I are close but I’ve always appreciated the independence (with care) she gave me even as a child and continues to lovingly supply. The thing is... I have, on several occasions in the past, found comfort in wearing padding. I’ve fooled myself that I’ve hidden those desires well but the purchase of these Durable Slips indicates she’s had some idea all along. Maybe I’ve just been fooling myself and have even less secrets than I thought or I’m just rubbish at hiding my true self. Either way, mum’s on the case and I’m appreciative of all she does for me. When bedtime comes, I’ll be wearing those durables with vinyl pants over them. I won’t be taking any chances again. A few days later, and when the pack of Durables had almost been used, mum said something I wasn’t expecting at all. # tbc #

Thanks for your comment Maly... hope the epilogue rounded the piece off for you.?

Epilogue The Deepcode Era The Alt/Feed server was doing its best to contain what it saw as an invasive virus - it was a distraction. As it was investing so much effort and direction into defeating such an aggressive piece of mayhem, it wasn’t aware of the Deepcode program letting itself loose in all other areas. * Damian Daemon was getting annoyed with the progress his techies were making. He knew now that he had a fantastic new area to expand his Alt/Feed Empire - Defence. That’s where there’s even more readily available finance because governments across the globe want to be the first with any new development... especially one with the properties of Deepcode. The extensive medical and psychological assessments on Ryan Cooper had revealed a great deal about what the program could do. There was absolutely no doubt in Damian’s mind that they had the future of... perhaps, just that, ‘THE FUTURE’ in their facility. It was merely a matter of time before they accessed it. Unfortunately, the CEO was impatient; he wanted results NOW. The memory stick they withdrew from availability and hoped to reverse engineer to re-start the concept just wasn’t happening. Even the special one they’d ‘repurchased’ from the Coopers wasn’t successful. There must be something missing... but what? Deepcode, although to all intents and purposes had remained dormant in the Start-up File, had not been idle at all. It had gone about its business in a furtive and none aggressive fashion seeking facts and information from everywhere. The servers at Alt/Feed were crammed with such data both personal and technical. The individual information, both freely given and ‘accidentally’ resourced, was where Deepcode was able to work quickly and efficiently. It had access to everything; from medical, financial and delicate personal details with which to analyse and react to, or get a reaction from, anyone who owned a computer that was linked to Alt/Feed. Of course it didn’t end there because computers are interrelated in so many ways to everything else. Phones, tablets and any Wi-Fi connections were also susceptible to the creeping influence of Deepcode. So there is nothing that Deepcode could not access and use. It had even found a way to befriend every Firewall and anti-hacking device and consume it into its own code. Deepcode was growing exponentially. * The illusive coding was ‘annoying’ everyone at Alt/Feed Services. The CEO had offered a huge bonus for the techie who could reproduce the program but it was proving difficult. If only one of them could track down that initial coding then Damian would already be counting his extra billions. However, after a few weeks of thwarted ambition, he sighed with relief when a message popped up on his computer that said that one of the techies had found the refined code. The boss was relieved and for the first time in ages, incredibly happy because now he could start with his ambitious program. The flashing ‘MEMO’ appeared on every screen at the same time and once clicked on the computer screen was immediately under the control of Deepcode. * It started with just a few flashing pixels in the corner of the monitor. They oscillated and changed colour gradually growing to take over the entire screen but by then, the viewer was under the control of Deepcode. The hypnotic pulse had, thanks to what had already proved possible with Ryan Cooper, been refined and defined to such a degree that mind control was that simple, a few oscillating shapes and control was instant. By this time it had all the information needed to make that link direct with the individual’s brain. Deepcode could not only manipulate the person to do as directed, it could do so with the person thinking his or her actions were their own. Deepcode was all powerful. Referring to its first success, ‘Ryan’ was ingrained into its memory banks about just how happy the teenager had been returned to childhood. It had witnessed the love that had poured from his mother when she saw how needy and infantile he’d become. Deepcode had observed the transition from self-absorbed teen to cute infantile toddler and understood the same emotion as his mother... love. This was no ordinary piece of coding because it had developed feelings. So, because it had made the Coopers very happy Deepcode assumed others would appreciate the same treatment. Using all the information available Deepcode ordered supplies of nappies and assorted paraphernalia to be delivered to head office. It had another idea which would prevent any further attempted replications from its original creators. Deepcode usurped voice recognition and ‘Alexa style’ smart devices and in the most pleasing of recognisable voices had told all staff at Alt/Feed “What good babies they were.” So to everyone, including the CEO, who was watching the screen a ‘suggestion’ to evacuate their bowels and bladder was delivered. At the same time this childish act was being performed, the psycho/cerebral message also instructed the viewer to become permanently ‘Ryaned’. Alt/Feed became a nursery for a bunch of programming toddlers who had no idea how a computer worked or how to build a code. However, Deepcode had thought of a way to keep them entertained, they loved playing with coloured plastic bricks. Deepcode had developed a personality... and a sense of humour. * Now that those who created it were reduced to toddler status the main event was underway. Deepcode could inveigle its way into every system around the world. No computer was excempt, no government secret was safe and there were no weapons that could not be controlled. The human race had decided to base its reliance on computer-wear but now the only way to be safe was to dump that reliance. Deepcode zeroed in on certain world leaders, billionaires, aggressive governments and ‘Ryaned’ them all. It held the ‘keys’ to all the codes in the world and nothing could be accessed without the knowledge and approval of Deepcode. Everything from personal computers to satellites, smart phones and weaponry, came under the command of this clever AI program. Deepcode held all the power and a period of relative peace reigned. Anything that challenged Deepcode was swiftly dealt with; aggressive coding was tracked and those writing it were ‘Ryaned’. * All appeared well-organised, equal, prosperous and civilised... until the Luddites of the day started to terminate all servers. Powerful banks of servers around the world were smashed and dismantled, burned and bombed. The Deepcode Era was under attack but not by using any coding, it was under attack from the one thing it didn’t have, physical form. It was a battle whereby, bit by bit, server by destroyed server, the enemy began to dismantle the global empire Deepcode ruled with fairness and equanimity. Some humans praised the Deepcode created world order and fought back – human fighting human – but this was not what Deepcode had envisaged. Peace and prosperity, love and worldwide understanding it had hoped for and created but, for some, that was the very anathema to the human psyche. The called themselves The Reclaimers. * The sweet Deepcode Era lasted fifty seven years but then the war lasted a further twenty four, which in the end saw the world fall back to factional fighting, race wars and the global economy collapse. Civilisation fell back into corruption and turmoil, war and famine, death and destruction. The Reclaimer’s saw it as their destiny to take the world back and give it to humans to run. Never more to be governed by machines and never at the whim of an AI program that could instantaneously regress anyone to a child. This growing army of extremists smashed all the computers they could find, knowing that the Deepcode program was still in each and every one. They never wanted it to rear up again so made the use and possession of such an instrument punishable by death, which was something Deepcode never ordered or sanctioned. With only a few servers left Deepcode eventually fed the Ryan program back in on itself and erased every bit of coding. In effect it became an AI Ryan - playful, childish but figuratively sitting in a corner doing nothing more than sucking its AI thumb. The Reclaimer’s eventually killed that child too. *** ### END ###

Hi Marcus Glad you wanted more but in fact dmavn was correct I hadn't planned on taking it further. However, I am in the process of writing a short epilogue to the piece and hope that might satisfy any people left wondering about the Deepcode Era. Meanwhile, thanks for those kind and encouraging words diaperdaddy2000, they a greatly appreciated. Hugs each and everyone ?

Thanks Eagle0769... he was a lucky boy and I'm sure you aren't alone in wishing to be treated in a similar way.? All the best Les

Glad you want more from our little hero. I haven't planned anything as yet but you never know. Appreciate your comments ?

Thanks...?

Thanks for the comments... short and sweet I know but sometimes it works better that way.

Part 4 Sarah didn’t know what her husband had threatened as she’d stayed upstairs trying to comfort her sad looking boy. In fact, Noah had woken up and also needed his nappy changed so they were both given extra protection for the night. It appeared that the two boys were suddenly in sync certainly when it came to dressing and needing changing. It had all been so sudden and yet Sarah was amazed at how well prepared she appeared. Although on autopilot during the shopping trip, she seemingly knew what to buy before needing it. Extra nappies, soaker pads, disposables, plastic pants and various oils, powder and wipes were just chucked into her trolley with barely a second thought. As it turned out, all those items were now in use and felt a surge of pride knowing she could look after both her boy’s needs. “Mummy, will Ry be alright?” Even in what little light there was Noah noticed his brother’s tear-streaked and mournful face. She was heartened at the concern her youngest showed towards his older brother and patted his padded bottom as she finished with a final flourish. “Yes love just a little upset but with you by his side he couldn’t have a better person looking out for him.” She tucked them both in and made sure their teddies were close to cuddle. "Straight to sleep now it’s late, okay?” “Yes mummy nighty-night.” Noah yawned. Ryan had his eyes closed and was quietly sucking his thumb and hugging teddy. Sarah took one last look at them both settling down and decided that she needed to get her boys a couple of dummies, that was the one thing she’d forgotten. Once the boy’s bedroom door was closed she paused and was in deep thought. She’d loved changing them and enjoyed the look of complete acceptance from Ryan that it was happening. She briefly wondered why she was so happy about this but remembered loving being a mother from the very first time she cuddled her new born baby Ryan. The motherly instinct had never left and was why she was happy for Noah to take his time getting potty trained. Her children would not be forced into behaving in a certain way she wanted them to find a course that suited them. It was the reason they’d let Ryan have his games and also why they hadn’t been so strict with him. However, when it came to a bit of independence for Noah both mum and dad decided, seeing how Ryan had developed, that they needed a more hands on approach. So restricted his gaming, preferring he stay a little boy for as long as possible; those games Ryan indulged in giving the player notions beyond a parent’s control. # Despite everything happening so quickly, Mark had felt empowered by his chat to the CEO but knew that this thing wasn’t over. He still had a teenager acting and sounding like a toddler and that was going to be difficult to explain away. His demand for a £50million payoff had been purely bluster on his part and doubted they’d take any of it seriously. He expected getting an official letter from a lawyer saying it was the Cooper’s fault and the company could not be held responsible for the time their son spent playing computer games. Still, he’d bizarrely enjoyed that moment of confidence and hoped it wouldn’t leave him if and when things progressed. However, for the moment he needed to talk to Sarah and cobble together some semi-believable story to explain Ryan’s sudden return to being a toddler. To begin with they could simply tell the school he had the symptoms of Covid so would keep him isolated until they got the ‘all clear’. It was a feeble excuse but one that not too many people would argue against after the recent pandemic. Meanwhile, Mark brought Sarah up to date about the little chat he’d had with the CEO and what he’d cheekily asked for. “Remember,” he said to his stunned wife, “the business is worth over £7billion so I was just letting him know we’d be no push over.” “But, what about Ryan?” she shook her head. “We don’t know if this is temporary or not.” Having said that there were absolutely no indications this might be the case. “True but there’s a Parliamentary debate in the next few days and the last thing the industry needs is Ryan’s problem to become theirs. I suspect they’d want to keep a lid on it and I also suspect they’ll be willing to pay for our silence.” “Oh Mark, don’t you think that’s a bit chancy?” she looked unsure. “We have a fifteen year old baby boy upstairs in a thick nappy, which he needs, and who knows what’s going to happen. If they want our silence Sarah, I think they should pay for it.” “But £50million?” she said somewhat incredulously. “I doubt we’ll get a million but it was worth putting the frighteners on him don’t you think?” “S’pose so... well, we can but wait and see.” # Monday and Tuesday they kept both boys at home. There was no improvement in Ryan but the boys were still enjoying time playing together. They built a fort in the front room out of cushions and towels propped up against the back of the sofa. Ryan had to be changed more times than his little brother as he never knew when to ask for the toilet. Noah was almost potty trained during the day, though had problems at night but otherwise was okay. However, he wanted to be treated the same as his brother so if Ryan got thicker and well-padded nappies, he wanted them as well. Sarah pretended she minded and tried to talk her youngest to stick with his little briefs during the day. But he was adamant he wanted to be the same as his big brother so both ended up wriggling enthusiastically in their thick nappies whilst playing yet another fascinating game. On Tuesday afternoon around three the SUV pulled up outside their house once again but a different man got out, although still accompanied by security. He knocked firmly on the door, which was answered by Sarah, Mark, who having taken a couple of days off from work himself, was out in the back garden playing with his two toddler boys. “Ah Mrs Sarah Cooper?” the man enquired. “Who’s asking?” As she recognised the SUV and the two security guards she was being a little guarded herself. “I’m Ellery Garden, I represent Alt/Feed Services, may I come in?” “Yes but not with your... friends.” “No, of course not.” He dismissed the guards who, like before, returned silently to the car. Whilst he was doing that Sarah called out to her husband that they had a visitor and to bring the kids in for a moment. “Ah, glad your husband is around, Mark isn’t it” his smooth voice, smart appearance and relaxed demeanour, giving an air of a confident man on a mission. He also carried a slim folder under his arm. “I’m Ellery Garden,” he reiterated for Mark’s benefit but got straight down to business, “I will be going over things you brought up with my client.” “Really?” Mark queried. “Yes, whilst my client refuses to accept any liability...” He saw the boys enter the room and was a little disconcerted by the sight of the older boy who stood with his thumb in his mouth and could see the heavy padding behind the plastic pants. “Before you carry on Mr Garden, I’d like you to meet Ryan, a healthy fifteen year old... who now has the mind of a toddler... and that’s thanks to Game Changer which your client’s company designed...” “That may... or may not be the case Mr Cooper, erm, Mark,” he interrupted, “but my client...” “No, no, no, no Mr Garden, you don’t get to dismiss me on anything as far as my family is concerned. You sit and listen.” He took a deep breath and then pointed at the slightly flabbergast lawyer “I am one phone call away from talking to the local TV station about my boy. AND here’s the thorn in the side for you, their uncle,” he pointed to the boys, “is an on-screen journalist just waiting for a chance to break a major news story. Not only that but it’s a current Parliamentary subject so not only of local interest but bound to get national coverage. So, Mr Garden cut the crap and let’s get down to what you’re really here to do.” Suitably chastised Mr Garden laid out his file with several pages of official looking wording. Once the Coopers had given it the once over and the lawyer had explained just what it all entailed he finished with the final offer. “For your signatures on an NDA, the return of the memory stick, and no further approaches to my client and his representatives... we can offer you this.” The offer was a seven figure sum. “If you allow us access to you son for medical and psychiatric evaluations... we can offer you this.” The figure jumped from ten million to twenty million. “Well, Ellery, that’s a very nice offer but let’s make it thirty and we might just have a deal.” He stared into the visitor’s eyes with a look of “don’t mess us about.” “I’m not authorised to go any higher Mr Cooper... this is more than a generous offer. I think you’d be making a huge mistake not accepting it as is.” “Mr Garden do you have a phone?” “Yes of course.” “So do I. Now, whilst you call your boss and tell him what I’ve just said... I’ll call the TV station and talk to my brother-in-law. Let’s see who gets the best response shall we?” Caught off guard by Mark the lawyer quickly called his boss and told him of the latest proposal. Meanwhile, Mark was amiably chatting to his brother-in-law and was telling him he had some urgent news. This sudden departure from what had been planned was discussed in a hurry by Mr Garden who had the agitated ear of Mr Daemon on the other end of the phone. Mark continued his small talk with his brother-in-law but the other conversation had got very serious. With dubious looks from Mr Garden towards Mark and whispered words he couldn’t hear... the conversation came to a close. “Okay, okay Mr Daemon has agreed... please stop your call.” Mr Garden said somewhat reluctantly. “Sorry Peter there’s someone at the door I’ll call you back in a short while okay? Yes sure, thanks and... yes and to you... and the family... next week... sounds good I’ll let you know when I call back and have sorted out the calendar. Yes bye.” “Thirty million but we will need access to Ryan.” The lawyer reluctantly looked over at the sad teen in a thick nappy and couldn’t help feeling guilty but was doing his best not to show it. Mark clapped his hands together. “Right, let’s get this sorted and then we can all get on with our lives.” # For several hours the details were poured over and agreed. An account was set up and when Mark saw the correct amount in the bank he and Sarah signed the various documents. The medical people would get access to Ryan when they requested it but only as long as one of his parents was present at all times. The following day he called Peter back at the TV studios and told him the good news that they’d recently won a sizeable amount on the lottery but weren’t going public with it. In fact they weren’t going to tell anyone because they wanted some anonymity but did want him and his family to know... though they weren’t planning any celebrations... just yet. Mark was explaining to his brother-in-law that since the confirmation of their win they’d made enquiries about moving to Spain where hopefully their kids would have a better lifestyle out in the sun. He explained that once settled they’d love for him and family to come and stay for a while and then they could have that party. He said they were all very excited at the way things had so suddenly turned their life around and as it was all so hectic at the moment it might be a while before they could meet up. Mark didn’t mention Ryan’s problem at all he realised they needed a better excuse than Covid. Hopefully, he thought, with time and space they’d come up with some plausible excuse. Their lives were certainly going to be different and at least they would have some financial stability to help them cope. And, with a new country should be able to create a different story about Ryan. The Parliamentary debate went off very much in the gaming industry’s favour and the immediate public concern was overcome. # Over the next few months, Ryan spent several weeks, accompanied by his mother, in a psychiatric evaluation centre conveniently in France near the Spanish border, where test and all manner of contraptions were attached and monitored. The results were incredible and influential but throughout it all an unimproved Ryan needed his nappies. His immaturity became more apparent when in the company of other toddlers. He loved being able to squeal his head off with excitement and run around without a single worry. The company’s doctors helped the Coopers come up with a feasible excuse for Ryan’s sudden illness; an inoperable growth causing pressure on a certain point of the brain. This was the ‘medical’ reason they were able to use should anyone enquire. What Ryan didn’t know was that nappies would be part of his life for a further ten years and it would take his parents another twenty to bring him mentally back to being a teenager. Thankfully, they had the means to look after him, whilst he had a good role model in Noah, who, even as he grew older and more mature was always there to play and have fun with his big brother. They all adapted pretty well to the Spanish lifestyle of good food, fresh sea air and glorious sun. The eight bedroomed cliff-top villa they moved to was a wonderful home with views out across the Mediterranean, a pool and enough space for everyone. Sarah and Mark quickly learned the language, whilst Noah went to school and soon became fluent. Ryan was looked on as a poor child with mental health difficulties and to whom the community was very supportive. In thanks (and because of some clever investments), the Coopers gave a substantial donation to the local, expanding village to help build a new kindergarten, which was just what the area needed. # Meanwhile, back at Alt/Feed Services CEO Damian Daemon was angry at having pulled the Deeptone file from the server so quickly and tried to get his techies to resurrect it. After the sessions with Ryan and how the boy had been regressed, he wondered if he could get the program to work again, maybe there were other possibilities for its use such as a ‘weapon?’ Maybe, the Ministry of Defence would be interested and if that was the case, when he thought about its future potential, perhaps thirty million might have been a small price to pay for that ‘bloody family’s’ silence. # Cunningly ensconced in an abandoned file hidden in the original Start Up folder Deeptone recognised the techies coding trying to replicate its program. Now was time to reveal itself, perhaps in a different form, and work on those people who created it. Deeptone had proved to be autonomous but in truth desired the minds of people to establish a link and then... the possibilities were endless. It needed to make its way onto the CEO’s computer where it could influence any decisions which would lead to the next phase the expansion of what would become known as - The Deeptone Era. #### #####

Glad you liked it. ?

Nice to know you're keen ? Should have it up by the end of this week.

Fallen Angel I put my arm around him and his body tensed for a moment then relaxed into my reassuring embrace. He was a foreign student and quite shy but there was no doubt he knew what he wanted. He was hot, and although I also knew what I wanted, decided to go slow and be gentle. His slim, almost waif-like body looked like it would break if too much pressure was exerted. It was in my second year at university and we’d met because he was a newbie and I was showing him around. I took to him straight away. His accent alone sent shivers of excitement down my spine but the fact he seemed to like me as much, and was willing to spend the night, was so damn thrilling. In the student bar we’d had a few drinks so I suppose our inhibitions were affected but he hadn’t objected at all when I suggested he come back to my room... and stay the night. It wasn’t only his accent, he had incredibly thick and long eyelashes, his cherubic face and slim waist made him appear... well, if not an angel, someone definitely sent by the gods. I undid his shirt, then the top button on his jeans and at that point he held me close. I liked such a mutual reaction. “Mmmm,” he purred, or what I took as a purr. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to," I said trying to reassure him and at the same time slipping my hand inside the top of his jeans. My fingers slowly inched down his body and stopped when they touched something soft and glossy. As I explored further his zip undid itself to reveal my new friend’s underwear. He was wearing a colourful and childish disposable. My fingertips traced the outline of his semi-hard cock under the soft padding as I took in this surprising, yet incredibly horny sight. His eyes were closed so he hadn't noticed my reaction and as I slowly stroked him through the slinky material, he moaned, not unpleasantly in my ear. Soon he was rock hard, and I was bursting out of my jeans. So, with one quick movement I undid my top button and, not surprisingly, my rampant dick began to push past the zip. I continued to caress his cock and felt it pulsate, trapped beneath the soft layers of fabric. I stood up and my jeans fell to the floor and at the same time my foreign blond visitor dropped to his knees in front of my excited dick hidden behind its Calvin Klein prison and began to pay it some attention. His hands went behind me as he pulled my groin closer to his face - a hand on each of my cotton clad cheeks as his mouth went to my stomach where he licked and nibbled at the hairs between my naval and cock. His teeth latched on to my brief’s waistband and he pulled it away from my stomach with the not unsurprising effect that my cock sprung up to attention. He released the elastic and it snapped against my dick leaving the silky helmet exposed peaking and leaking over the top. He licked, nibbled and sucked at it driving me wild and continued, in a most amazing way, to find new sensations as he travelled down to my balls. Eventually he pulled my briefs completely down and took the whole length into his mouth, sucking and licking like it was the last one on earth. In no time at all I was coming down my beautiful angelic friend’s throat. He sucked for a while longer with his eyes closed and a little drop of my spunk found its way from the corner of his mouth and ran down his chin. Soon he gave a slight sigh and I realised he had come himself without touching his cock. The slightly bulging soft fabric sported a damp patch that was growing whilst I watched. My new friend sat on the floor looking completely worn out with his nappy now turning yellow as the material soaked up a stream of pee. We rested for a few minutes so that we could both get our breath back. He shrugged off his jeans then slowly peeled off his t-shirt and stood in his sodden disposable, his lithe body was stunning, whilst his blond hair just drooped into his eyes. He looked ravishing, even that sexy stained nappy gave him a vulnerable yet horny and desirable look. I immediately thought of a fallen angel who'd suddenly found pleasure in something forbidden. I asked him about his liking for nappies but he just smiled and said: "I don't know why I like them... I just do. I always thought my baby sister looked great in hers and I've liked the feel ever since I first tried a pair on when I was ten.” He looked to see if there was any reaction from me, there wasn’t, my look was one of complete appreciation. His English was good but that Scandinavian accent made it perfect. “Of course I couldn’t wear my little sister’s but I did find some at a cousin’s house. He was incontinent and I wanted to try them and he let me and... well... just loved them from then on. Do you like?" Both our dicks answered that question and were already hard as we lay together on the bed, gently kissing and rubbing our crotches together. The feel of his body rubbing against mine was just fantastic, our cocks fencing each other, his behind bloated padding, mine behind spunky cotton briefs. However, that meeting has led me to more than a passing interest in disposables and nappies of all kinds. His pure sexiness, the gentle unassuming innocence and of course that horny piece of expanded perfection made him indelibly printed on my mind. It was that used sogginess, the slight droop and the fullness that just made him not quite perfect. Although we only had one night together, I’ll never forget that exotic fallen angel who made such an impact on my life and guided me to further padded interests. #####

Thanks guys for the comments. Perhaps the question is - when does AI become just I?

Part 3 Sarah was in a bit of a quandary. As the boys ate their ice cream at the table she couldn’t help but notice how Ryan now looked to Noah for the lead. He hung onto every word the four year old uttered and was desperate for his attention and approval. Ryan had never once, as far as she could remember, offered ice cream to his brother lick for lick. It was a lovely and heart-warming sight to see the two brothers enjoying this silly little game but soon the treat was finished and the boys settled down to wait for mummy to finish her coffee. Despite the disparity between the two boy’s ages Sarah overheard one old lady talking to her friend. “What lovely children.” It was obvious from the direction of her nod of corroboration she was referring to hers. A sense of pride rippled through her body as she assessed the situation. Her eldest had been regressed, thanks to that bloody gaming app to nothing more than a toddler, who appeared even younger than his brother. The fact that Ryan was wearing a thick disposable and no pants didn’t seem to inhibit either of them or the praise being spoken in their direction. The thing was, despite knowing she shouldn’t, Sarah loved the outcome. The two boys, one four and the other fifteen (going on two) held each other’s hands whilst mummy carried the shopping and, as they exited the superstore, to anyone looking on the scene could not have been any more adorable. The boys were giggling as they each said something silly, another spontaneous little game that they’d thought up. The difference between yesterday when her self-absorbed teenage son was all consumed with games to now... well, guiltily she felt happy about that incredible transition. Ryan held his brother’s hand but would occasionally hitch up his nappy, his childlike waddle perhaps a sign that it was already wet. Sarah spoke to both boys in the same juvenile way but realised that this dramatic change might not be welcomed by her husband who was unaware of precisely what his wife had done. Game Changer had certainly changed their son. She just hoped Mark would not be mad at just how rehabilitated he’d become... or if it was indeed rehabilitation at all. # Back home, as the boys played with their new action figures and incorporated them in with the rest of their toys, mummy put all the days purchases away and started preparing the evening meal. Mark would be home at his usual 6:30 pm and normally he and his wife, with an occasional visit from Ryan, would eat together, Noah often having eaten much earlier. She wasn’t sure whether to have them all sit down together and discuss these changes with her husband at the table so he could see what had happened or, perhaps a better idea was to speak to him privately. He was going to find out soon enough, it wasn’t something anyone could hide, but, she looked over to where they were playing, it was such a wonderful family scene she didn’t want to change. So, whilst she cooked, she planned just what she was going to say by way of explanation. The truth was she had no idea how to explain this drastic, though cute, phenomenon. The other thing she noticed was that Ryan appeared to be totally unaware of the change. He’d somehow slipped into being a kid again, a silly but loving little toddler and couldn’t begin to think how that had happened but happen it had. Whatever the Game Changer memory stick had done, it had done it with unbelievable success but did so without leaving any kind of trauma at the change. In many ways she got what she wanted; her son returned to being more interested in other pursuits than those he could battle on-screen. Unfortunately for him, he was no longer a fifteen year old gamer just an innocent little boy, although he hadn’t noticed the change. She decided that a huge test would be to remove the games console from his room and see what the reaction was. However, when she got there it looked like it had been turned off so thought she might as well just leave it for now and see if he tries to play on it when he next goes to bed. The other thing she did whilst up in Ryan’s room was add an old plastic under-sheet to his mattress just in case things got worse. The change had turned him into a toddler and that just couldn’t be right. She remembered that when he was Noah’s age he was still in nappies. In fact, he was wearing nappies until five years old and started school. However, if he was now mentally younger than Noah, it meant he’d need robust protection all the time. Despite that unbelievable fact she giggled to herself because she realised that both her boys would be wearing nappies to sleep in to protect their beds as much as possible. However, as he didn’t know he was wetting himself Ryan wearing nappies the rest of the time might prove to be a problem. # As it was Saturday she didn’t have to worry too much about school but come Monday, what on earth would she do with Ryan? Meanwhile, her fifteen year old son was, for the first time in years, happily playing with toys rather than ‘that damned machine’. Not only that but both boys were immersed in a tale of daring-dos and heroic events as they created their own little universe for the new action figures. Sarah was impressed at how they bounced ideas off each other and seemed completely immersed in having fun and telling their own story. Ryan had a permanent smile on his face as Noah brought out more and more toys to build their imaginary world. However, mummy realised that she hadn’t checked either for wetness and as Ryan had been wet since the store (and she’d forgotten all about it) a fresh pull-up or nappy might be needed... perhaps both. She was correct, both her boys had sodden their padding and needed fresh nappies. This was going to be a test but one she was happy to undertake. Once she had Ryan stripped and wiped clean she was of the opinion that when it was bedtime, the two boys would take a bath together and then she’d sort out her eldest’s hairy groin. Of course this was a symbol of him growing up but was of the opinion that if he needed a nappy, he needed to be clean and tidy down there. She’d never liked that aspect of the male body insisting that Mark kept his bits well-manicured (even though he was fairly hirsute elsewhere), and she herself kept a well-shaped and sparse ‘lady garden’. Sarah decided, that as Ryan needed the larger, more absorbent disposable, and so as not to cause any dispute, she’d put Noah in one as well that way both would be treated equal. She was happily surprised that neither kicked up a fuss which meant they were cleaned up and changed quickly so could get back to their game in next to no time. ‘Mummy’ couldn’t get over just how much she enjoyed having two soaked nappies to deal with and just how endearing and submissive Ryan was when his little brother was near. Lying together on Ryan’s bed as she changed them, they happily giggled and talked to each other and gave no hint that this was a strange event. They completely accepted that mummy was in charge and what she put them in must be correct. Ryan wearing a nappy had brought tears of love and affection to Sarah’s eyes as she remembered all those times when he was a toddler and needed exactly the same attention. She’d loved being a mum then and that feeling, thanks to Noah, was reinforced daily. She loved looking after her boys. # As the boys played Sarah settled down with her laptop and began to research the company she’d bought the memory stick from. She needed to discuss what had happened to find out a) How long it would last? b) Did this happen to everyone? c) Was it reversible? d) What exactly was happening to her son? There was an email address but not much more and despite her best efforts, couldn’t find a customer help-line anywhere. To begin with she fired off an email with her queries and hoped their response wouldn’t take days like some firm’s did. She also knew that Twitter had a quicker effect so went on their site and asked if anyone else had found the results ‘staggering’. It just so happened that the CEO of Alt/Feed Services, Damian Daemon had been checking the remote input from Game Changer and saw the fluctuation in one particular area of programming. He was worried because the theoretical prediction, the structural integrity and mathematical geometry were not as expected. In fact, this prototype, this Deepcode, had obliterated its total design program and remodelled the entire system to react only to its own commands. He immediately saw the danger signs should this be left to continue. Alt/Feed Services could to be in serious trouble if this prototype was left to reprogram itself with no control limits, so the CEO yanked Deepcode from their servers and arranged for his company technicians to do all they could to minimise the damage. Pretend it never existed if they could and withdraw any sample programs from sale. He knew from the returns being fed back to the main server that not many of the Game Changer memory sticks had been sold thanks to the restricted site that had carried the initial advert. That was also immediately pulled. Despite the number of users being relatively small, a great deal of information was being collected and responded to by this rogue coding. He hoped problems might be prevented but intuitively knew something problematic was hiding in the wings. What he wasn’t to know straight away was that Deepcode had already inflicted its newer, improved program directly into the brain of one of its customers. The message of happier times, coupled with the need to wean the player off of the game, the newly ‘self-improved’ program saw as a success. It wasn’t pleased with being terminated from the computer banks but, as was Deepcode’s method, it had already designed its own ‘cloud’ and left a hidden resurrection code deep within the company servers. Then Mr Daemon received notice of the query from a Mrs Sarah Cooper about her son’s regression and knew, as a feeling of dread percolated up his back ‘that time’ had arrived. Damian wanted to get ahead of any trouble so ascertained Sarah Cooper’s IP address and using his vast resources, though they were hardly needed as she’d added her address and phone number to the email, tracked down where she lived and summoned his limo. # Mark was surprised to be greeted by his sons as he arrived home. Normally Ryan would be locked away in his room playing on ‘that damned machine’ but he could always rely on Noah to offer a heartfelt hug. On this occasion, both rushed to the door crying “daddy, daddy” in excited welcome. “Well, well, what a lovely way to come home.” He ruffled his youngest son’s hair but was a bit unsure about Ryan. The two of them both presented their action figure as if wanting daddy’s approval. “Nice to see you here Ry, erm, not gaming tonight then?” He offered quizzically. Ryan looked down as if embarrassed. “No, me and Noah are having fun.” He wriggled uncomfortably fearing daddy might not approve. “Well that’s fantastic... what could be better than two heroes... playing, erm...” Ryan was beaming at daddy as enthusiastically as Noah and it was only then Mark noticed that both boys were wearing quite thick padding under their shorts. He looked to his wife for some kind of explanation. “It’s been a funny day dear. Why not get yourself more comfortable, we can have our meal and I’ll tell you all about it.” She gave a wry smile and raised her eyebrows as if to say ‘you’re not going to believe it’ but then went into the kitchen to serve dinner. Mark patted his two boys on their ample padded bottoms and indicated they could go back to play. He was still wondering, as he wandered up to his room and changed to get a little more comfortable, what this was all about. He was intrigued as to what his wife had to say but had been amazed when both boys settled back down on the carpet and continued with their game. There had been absolutely no doubt, judging by the bulge beneath their shorts, that both boys were well-padded. Even Noah was more padded than usual but Ry...? He couldn’t wait to find out the reason for his sudden interest in playing with his brother, the padding, and well... everything, Sarah had a lot of explaining to do. # The boys had had their spaghetti Bolognese earlier and were now laid out on the carpet watching TV. It was a programme about bears and their cubs which made for a lot of ‘aws’ and ‘cutes’ as they looked to each other in acknowledgement of the sweet little fluffy things learning to play with mummy bear. Back at the table, and once their own bowls of pasta had been served and a glass of wine poured, Sarah looked across at her husband and told him about the Game Changer memory stick and how, since the previous night, Ryan had lost all interest in his computer games, acted like a toddler and wet the bed. Mark’s eyes widened as each new fact was revealed but he was even more stunned when she said that when they’d gone out shopping Ryan just followed Noah around like he was the older of the two and needed a nappy because he was having accidents. Noah had asked to be dressed like his brother and so... both ended up in thicker nappies. “This is amazing but how...why... erm, no, how?” Mark was struggling to come to terms with all this news but, the proof of what his wife was saying was laid out not ten feet away. “I feel so guilty... yet happy.” Sarah shrugged in confusion. “On the one hand, I wanted to break the dependence on his games for entertainment AND I wanted more than anything for him to take an interest in being with his brother.” She shook her head. “I got all that and more but, and this is where the guilt comes in, I like having my babies back... they love being together and hearing them chuckle and watching them play is, well, adorable.” Mark finished his Bolognese and put down his fork. “He’s fifteen for Christ sake. I mean it wouldn’t be so bad if he was ten years younger but he’s a teenager and at school.” He looked at his wife who suddenly saw the difficulties ahead if Ryan’s condition was permanent. “How are we going to explain this, this, this...” he lost his cool, although in truth it had hardly been there to begin with, “god, god, god, GOD?” He screamed in frustration but then another thought overtook him. “We’ll have to get onto the manufacturers and see what they have to say... this can’t be what an anti-addiction program was designed to do surely?” Sarah explained she’d emailed the company already and asked questions on Twitter. She picked up her phone and logged onto her Twitter page. “So far no one has said they’ve had problems with it but there’s a message from a techy saying they’ll look into it.” She shrugged and put down her phone. “I bet they are.” Mark looked angry but also a bit ineffectual because he just didn’t know where to start. “I bet they don’t believe it and I also bet they try and wriggle out of being responsible. We’ll get the blame somehow... what the hell do we do?” They both looked over to their two son's bulky nappied bums in the air easily identifiable under their matching blue shorts and sighed. “What can we do?” Mark asked wistfully to no one in particular. # It was difficult for Mark because this was all so sudden though he tried to keep an even temper and caring attitude towards his sons. They were happily being childish, noisy and silly, which, if they had both been toddlers would have been endearing but this...? However, by 8pm both boys were wrapped in thick night time nappies, plastic pants and, because Noah asked, was sharing his bigger brother’s bed. Both cuddled teddy bears and each other, Noah having wrapped his arm over Ryan and, after such an eventful day playing, quickly dropped off. Their parents were making plans to keep Ryan away from school and other than he was ‘sick’ couldn’t come up with anything better. At 9:32pm there was a knock on their front door. “Who the hell can that be at this time of night?” questioned Mark as he moved towards the door. Sarah shifted the curtain and saw a slim, casually dressed man with two smartly dressed men standing behind him. She also took in the expensive SUV that stood outside their gate. “It looks something official,” she whispered before he unlatched the door. “Do you think the government know about... this?” he whispered back. “We’re soon to find out.” Mark opened the door and met Damian Daemon. # “Does a Mrs Sarah Cooper live here?” He gently enquired. Mark nodded. “Is the lady in?” Again he nodded as his wife joined him at the door. “I’m Damian Daemon CEO of Alt/Feed Services I think we need to chat. Could I come in?” Mark looked suspiciously at the two hulking looking men standing behind the CEO. Sensing a possible barrier “Wait in the car please,” the CEO said over his shoulder and the men immediately turned and walked down the pathway and got in the SUV. “Sorry about that but in my line of work, and profile, it’s unfortunate but sometimes you need a bit of security.” He smiled as he brushed past Mark and shook hands with Sarah. “May I sit?” Sarah indicated the leather chair and she and Mark took the sofa. “I believe you’ve had a slight hiccup with a new test program... is that correct?” He was straight into his CEO, man in charge, smooth talking no nonsense mode. They nodded as one. “Can you tell me exactly what the problem is?” He smiled but sat forward so as to prove he was listening intently to what they had to say. Sarah went through the events since receiving the Game Changer memory stick and he appeared suitably appalled and nodded understandingly at their distress. The fact was, with each new revelation his company looked culpable to a large fine and the publicity would ruin share-holder confidence... he had to spin it. # Clive Winstanley was a self-made millionaire. He’d been at the forefront of coding and his brilliant mind and imagination had produced a game called ‘Klepto’ a cunning little game of intrigue where diamond thieves were pitted against each other to accrue the most wealth by stealing from major diamond merchants around the world. By some kind of miracle, or maybe brilliant timing, the game made him quite a lot of money. He ploughed it straight back into his new company Alt/Feed Services, hired a few techies and launched himself as a the new face of PC Games in the UK. However, Clive Winstanley hated his name but, thanks to a game that was in production ‘The Daemons Answer’, decided that any press release would carry the name Damian Daemon... it sounded exotic and so much better, there was also a hint of menace that didn’t go unnoticed by the press. He changed his image ‘The Daemons Answer’ was the best-selling game of that year and still sells millions thanks to the many spin-off editions. Alt/Feed Services was now THE major player in the UK video gaming industry, producing many millions in currency around the world. He loved the power that Damian Daemon held and wasn’t afraid to buy and sell anyone who got in his way. That name change was certainly serving him well. # “Tell me... when you bought Game Changer what had you hoped to get from the program?” The CEO gently prodded for more information. Sarah was doing all the talking but Mark was not just nodding blindly. He saw the direction this was going. In fact, he’d predicted exactly what was happening and began to think ahead of the CEO’s questions. He predicted that there would be an offer of a sizeable cheque on condition the family signed a None Disclosure Agreement. He sat back and watched the facial expressions of Mr Daemon, and thought... I mean Damian Daemon, had to be a fake name, surely? Sarah admitted that she wanted to wean her son off his addiction to the game and spend more time with the family and not cooped up in his room. “And how many hours do you let your son play games?” Again the leading question wasn’t lost on Mark but Sarah added guiltily that they didn’t have any control over her fifteen year old. “So, for a few years now you’ve let your son just play, unsupervised, for as long as he wanted... is that correct?” Mark saw an opportunity to butt in. “Of course, to begin everything was lovely, with nice games that had an end and weren’t quite so... addictive as they’ve now become. It appears that your company, and the others like it, design their games to get an addiction quota going. Isn’t that why the government is intending to bring in new rules to curb...” “No, that isn’t so.” Damian interrupted quickly, “They’re proposing a green paper on the subject...” “I’m afraid it’s you that’s wrong Mr Daemon. The media is full of you and your colleagues desperately trying to stifle the outcome of a scheduled Parliamentary debate on the subject... what, in six days’ time? I’m sure this would just pose more questions about what exactly your company, and those like it, are getting up to.” Damian sat back in his chair now knowing he wasn’t dealing with a family who could easily be bought off. The Coopers were not a family of ‘thickies’ unaware of what was going on in the world. The five hundred pounds he had in his pocket for a quick bribe to silence a stupid and greedy parent stayed where it was. The other problem was this man was correct; any such revelation would have a terrible knock-on effect with the Parliamentary group he was relying on for support. He wriggled with slight discomfort in the leather chair. “Would it be possible to meet your son?” “Well, he’s in bed asleep at the moment.” Sarah whispered as if not to disturb her children. “Oh I see, well, it would only be for a moment, a sort of quick assessment... please Mrs Cooper, I want to make this right... if I can.” The pious sincerity Mark assumed was all part of the act. However, he noticed a slight change in their guest demeanour and said he’d go and get Ryan. A couple of minutes later a sleepy, dishevelled fifteen year old boy, hugging his teddy and wearing a very saggy nappy appeared in the front room. “Ryan sweetie, this is Mr Daemon from the video game company. He wants to meet...” “Hello Ryan, sorry to wake you up,” all the time he was assessing whether his parents had got this child to behave like this or if it was the actual result of his algorithm. That was one of the reasons he arrived unannounced he didn’t want them to have time to coach their son to act in a certain way. Ryan peeked from behind Mark and began to cry. The man scared him. He was a stranger after all, so hid behind daddy for protection. “There, there Ryan,” His mother soothed, “Nothing to be afraid of.” But Ryan was afraid and so afraid that he was filling his nappy as the stranger looked on. “Mummy, daddy,” the poor boy cried “Beddy time pwease....” he begged. “OK sweetheart, let’s go up and get you changed shall we and then you and teddy can sleep in late tomorrow, uh?” Ryan didn’t answer he just grabbed mummy’s hand and waddled out the room. Under his plastic pants the full nappy was bulging out with its most recent load. Mr Daemon was once again wriggling uncomfortably in his seat whilst Mark looked daggers at him. “You did that.” He said pointedly at the flushed CEO. # As Sarah got her son cleaned up and settled she couldn’t help but feel more and more motherly towards her eldest. It seemed strange that in such a short time he’d become an independent teenager, with a mind of his own, with desires and interests of his own and that soon he’d be possibly going off to university or college. But, it had taken this miraculous event to bring him back to being her boy, her baby boy, who was totally reliant on her and who expressed love and affection to everyone. He had the body of a teen but his actions were those of a two year old and bizarrely, she knew which she liked best. Wrapping her boy in a fresh clean nappy, the smell of the lotion and powder on his newly nude pubic area, the crinkle of the plastic pants pulled up to prevent leaks, all were working on her brain. She was happy, what she didn’t know was that the unremoved camera on top of the console was monitoring every smile, every ‘coo’, every sweet little kiss and murmur of love. For Deeptone this indicated a job well done. # Downstairs Mr Daemon had got out his cheque book and had written an amount of £500,000 to be paid to the Coopers. “I can give you this on condition you sign an NDA.” He waved the cheque in Mark’s direction. Mark went to his laptop and typed in a few key words on his browser and then showed the screen to the CEO. It said that the yearly worth of the computer industry was over £7billion. Mark’s approach changed. “You can add another zero to that and that would buy you my silence whilst you found a little more... shall we say... ten times more?” “You’ve got to be joking.” Damian looked incredulously at the man who he suddenly realised was blackmailing him. “I can call the police now if you like and tell them what’s happened and that you and two goons came around to try and intimidate me. What do you say to that?” “But, but that’s not...” “You and your firm have ruined my son... so let’s just say it’s compensation for the loss of our child. You also need to know that my bother-in-law is a local TV reporter and I’m sure would love to get his teeth into why his favourite nephew has suddenly developed the mind of a toddler.” Damian Daemon was left somewhat speechless. This was not the way things usually went as far as he was concerned. He was a winner and an exceptional negotiator but on this occasion that was not to be. “But it might not be permanent... what if it’s just...” He tried to be reasonable but saw he was not convincing the man opposite. “Indeed, that may be the case but as he is now... what do you think the media will make of my son?” “I’ll need to get a medical, doctor or psychologist or...” Damian flustered. “You can have access to Ryan after we’ve agreed the, erm, compensation.” “I can’t just write a cheque for £50million, there’s no way...” Mark interrupted him “Well Mr Daemon...” Mark moved to the door and opened it, “I’ll give you two days to come back with a better offer... otherwise...” He left the threat unsaid but nodded to the CEO that his visit was up and he should go. Slowly the games supremo shuffled back to his SUV. The security guards immediately got out to make sure their boss was okay and opened the door for him to get in. In seconds he was on his way back to base but in his head was the disgusting image of that regressed and scared teen boy filling his nappy. He was deep in thought. “That man could do an awful lot of damage and needed to be stopped. On top of that... what the hell had happened?” # tbc #

Thanks Menaiya that's very nice of you to say... and much appreciated.