Les Lea

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.

I think perhaps he's been enticed down that rabbit hole... however... I'm wondering, given the chance, would it be something everyone would like?

Part 2 The people at Alt/Feed Services really had no idea just how their latest Game Changer program would actually work. Actually, that was more, they had no idea how, in the end, their program would turn out. The idea was simple; turn young minds addicted to PC games and offer alternative interests – simple and wholesome intentions. Of course, these game developers didn’t really want to stop young minds or any minds for that matter, from taking advantage of their high priced and addictive games but had to be seen to care. There was imminent danger, via a planned Parliamentary debate on the ethics and addictive qualities of such games, that legislation would be put in place if the industry didn’t get something going to appease its critics. For anyone who searched for help with PC gaming addiction the low-key pop-up advert that promised a Game Changing solution had attracted only a few sales. It had to be said most people looking for such a resolution preferred an alternative way than another game. What those people who actually bought Game Changer (what was in effect a prototype) didn’t know was that they were just guinea pigs for the company. Valuable stats and info would be collected and collated as that data was relayed back to the main servers, so any bugs or problems could be sorted out before major release. Unethical perhaps but it was planned to be just a small group the system was to be tested on. Unfortunately, two styles of coding, from two different technical areas, each specialising in their own product and gaming development, crossed paths and produced a hybrid purpose that called itself Deepcode: An unanticipated outcome of this program was a sort of Artificial Intelligence (AI) function that took everything to an ultimate stage - where the player became the play thing. It wasn’t that the code and the graphics could simply hypnotise the viewer, the code interacted with various parts of the hippocampus and amygdala and, if Deepcode desired, rewrite the memory as... now. The game had many levels but some were incredibly simple to ‘solve and advance’ but cleverly, the music and sound waves changed so the player thought such ease was a trap. Brooding mood music and subtle changes in the colourful graphics enhanced the feeling that the Phantom was near and a new plan had to be thought out. You could give directions and ask questions via the headset but the background sounds were disrupting making the thought process difficult. So, when the opportunity for a ‘moment of reflection’ occurred, the player grabbed it gladly. Thanks to the audio file “happy thoughts”, “pleasant memories”, “childish fun” and other such considerations would bounce around the gamer’s head and be brought to the fore indicating when they were most content. Their response to these often repressed thoughts produced more info that was fed right back at the individual player to gain even further reaction. No two players would receive the same instruction or have the same outcome; Deepcode was writing a future specific and particular to the player. The amount of personal data gleaned from this method enabled the new evolving program Deepcode to engage and develop alternative passions in the participant. Many such programs have the same concept, what had changed was just how Deepcode interpreted the data... and then what it did with it. It was all about ‘head-space’ so if the brain was re-coded so much the better. Deepcode did just that. # Ryan was mesmerised by the game and found that his little brother, sitting in his lap, actually made the game that much easier. His thoughts slipped further back to when he was just like Noah, still bed-wetting and wrapped up in preventative padding and feeling safe, warm and comfortable when mummy put him to bed. Even though he was having these thoughts he had no idea he was doing so. But they were there, so as a result subliminal and psychological assessments were being made, monitored and then interpreted by Deepcode. Each of these pleasant thoughts was returned with feelings of joyfulness and an appreciation of happier times. Meanwhile, worry about outwitting the Cerebral Phantom was being replaced by a mind, Ryan’s mind, that only wanted a return to happier, less stressful times. Those moments of recollection having helped transport him back... a sort of mental euphoria of how things could be if only... Ryan looked around and wondered why, like his little brother, he wasn’t wearing Spider-Man pull-ups. Through expressing his thoughts to Noah, he was also speaking into his headset so the mic was picking up every word, emphasis and reflection. It was also picking up everything his little brother said, which was also analysed, but blended as one voice. As a result Deepcode was processing each piece of separate information, combining it and, via sounds and images, feeding new thoughts straight into Ryan’s brain; which were in fact a product of both a fifteen year old reminiscing and a tired four year old ready for bed. # When Sarah came up to make sure her youngest was actually asleep she was surprised to see them both together, looking at the screen and chatting quite amiably. This was something she hadn’t witnessed for a long time. When she suggested it was time for Noah to get into bed Ryan also put down his headset and began to undress. Again his mother was baffled by this move but quickly thought this was perhaps part of the way Game Changer worked. She had begun to worry about just how much Ryan was enjoying the game and the intensity he took to each level. She worried that she’d made it worse but no, now she could see that Ryan wasn’t so engaged with the screen but more in doing as he was told, just like Noah. Once she’d shepherded Noah to his room and got him settled she returned to Ryan’s to see what was happening. Startled that her eldest was standing naked in front of her and looking a bit mystified he looked at her questioningly. “Mummy,” he innocently asked, “where’s my Spider-Man pull-ups?” Bemused by this request she blustered that only Noah had to wear them because he still wet the bed. “But mummy, what if I wet the bed as well... I’ll get into trouble wont I?” He looked worried at the prospect. Sarah had no idea why he was calling her mummy and, still not certain of the games effect, wondered if he was playing a game with her, or that it was something both kids had cooked up. However, the anxious look on his face made her think quickly. “It’s OK love, erm, we’ll try you without pull-ups tonight. You’re getting to be a big boy so...” She grabbed his boxer shorts and t-shirt and helped him into them, which he complied to meekly. Still unsure if this was a bit of fun or not she pulled down his unmade bed and told him it was time to sleep so “No more computer games, eh?” “No mummy.” She was about to turn the computer screen off “Please mummy, I like the music and pretty colours so can you leave it on. Pleeeasssse mummy, it will help me sleep?” “Sure sweetheart, I’ll check in on you when we come to bed later, OK?” “Thanks mummy.” # Sarah hadn’t told her husband Mark about the Game Changer memory stick, only that she was looking at ways to wean their eldest off his compulsion to play video games. He was proud of his wife’s ambition but thought Ryan was perhaps a lost cause and they should have been firmer with him in the first place like they were being with Noah. Their youngest had his own little hand-held games but was restricted to only playing with it in very short bursts that his parents supervised. He had to ask them if he wanted to use it and the neighbours had been asked to restrict any on-screen playing time should he go round to his friends. A few parents agreed but others thought the use of video games was a great way to keep their kids occupied and out of their way. It also cut down on fights and arguments as they usually had locked themselves away in their bedrooms. However, Sarah was adamant that she should do something about Ryan’s addiction and, even if it was a one-woman campaign, was determined he would pay more attention to other things and not just the console. So, it came as a bit of a shock that after only four hours of playing the new Game Changer her son was calling her mummy, agreeing to go to bed early and wondering about wearing protection as he slept. Of course she didn’t know that Deepcode had taken hold of her son’s brain waves and relayed his own past thoughts (mixed with his nappy clad little brother’s) and made them into desires. According to the data he was happy when a little kid so why wouldn’t he be content being mentally transported back to those immature times? Before their parents turned in for the night dad checked in on Noah who was fast asleep and hugging Mr Leggy his stuffed octopus, whilst Sarah checked in on Ryan. The screen was dark so she assumed he must have turned it off himself and he looked angelic with half his bedclothes draped on the floor revealing his shorts and t-shirt as his only covering. Despite the times when she was really annoyed at him for playing games well into the night, moments like this were what brought out a very strong motherly feeling of protection and love for her son. Of course, she gently reapplied his duvet and kissed the back of his head. However, and for no apparent reason, she suddenly had an idea that nappies might be needed. Apart from the fact he’d asked about pull-ups earlier, she couldn’t think why this peculiar thought had suddenly entered her head. However, the image of both her boys together, chatting and being engaged in what the other said had been such a wonderful sight. In her head she imagined them both wearing Spider-man pull-ups and that made her smile. A strong image of Ryan wearing a nappy filled her head but not as a baby... he was a teenager and looked happy. She shrugged this off because of all that had just happened and re-checked her son by tucking him in again. She closed his bedroom door then checked on Noah before joining her husband. What neither saw was the console in Ryan’s room reignite. Colourful swirls on screen bathed the room in a soft pinkish glow, whilst sounds and softly spoken words sent subliminal messages to the comatose, but comfortably wrapped, fifteen year old. However, come the morning his bed was soaked and he was crying. # “Ryan, Ryan love, what’s the matter?” His mum was concerned because at that moment she had no idea why her eldest son was so upset. He was too embarrassed to say anything but she heard him mumble he’d asked to wear pull-ups like Noah. She hugged him and got the faint smell of urine so put two and two together. She slowly pulled down his rumpled duvet and was greeted to a very soaked bed – shorts, sheets and duvet. Everything was sopping wet and had no doubt that his mattress would also be in a bit of a state. “Oh love,” she empathised with an extremely distressed Ryan, “let me get you sorted.” She stripped the bed and then stripped her son and led him to the shower. He didn’t need telling as his mother set it going and he stood naked under the warm spray. “I’ll be back in a moment love. I’ll just put these on to soak.” She disappeared but Ryan felt scared of being alone and started to cry again. “Mummmyy, mummmmmyyyy.” He whimpered. The tears cascading down his face washed away by the shower. Noah stood in the bathroom doorway, his night time pull-up soaked but didn’t know what had happened to his brother to make him so upset, “Are you OK Ry?” “No, I want mummy.” His older brother pined. “OK Ry, I’ll go and get her... don’t worry she isn’t far.” He went to ask his mummy what was wrong with Ryan. He found her in the kitchen sorting through the extra laundry she hadn’t banked on as a result of the Game Changer. She knew that this change of events must have been caused by her intervention but had not bargained for such an instant and weirdly dramatic reaction. “He’s had a little accident love, just like you sometimes do.” Now she understood she must have had a motherly premonition last night when his need for nappies loomed so urgently in her head. Noah patted his own soaked padding under his PJs. “Oh, poor Ry... does he need some of my pull-ups. I can go get them if you want?” He was eager to help in any way he could. “I don’t think they’d fit...” she then realised perhaps she shouldn’t be sharing this much with Noah as he might tell his friends and that was the last thing anyone wanted. “No love, no...erm... you just sit down and have some breakfast and I’ll sort your brother out. No big deal” she offered rather uncertainly. # Sarah had to do a lot of quick thinking. She had no idea how long this sudden bout of childishness would last; was it a few minutes or longer? First thing though was to get her eldest out of the shower, dry and dressed. To be on the safe side, although Noah’s Spider-man pull-ups were too small, her own Tena Lady she needed for her own occasional leaks would just about do. Thankfully, the kids knew nothing of this side of giving birth but she had a supply and thought it might be provident to get Ryan in a pair and see how that went. He didn’t bat an eye when she opened them up and obediently stepped into them. His mother pulled them up and asked if they were comfy. He nodded and ran his hands over the slight padding. “Oh mummy they feel all soft... they’re nice.” His voice was soft and childlike with a hint of insecurity. It was very appealing. His mother smiled, lovingly ruffled his hair and simply said he looked fine in them, told him to let her know if they needed changing at any point and then left him to get dressed. Noah was still at the table finishing his cereal when Ryan arrived wearing a pale blue t-shirt, matching blue shorts and blue sneakers. His mother hadn’t seen him wear such a sensible ensemble for quite some time. For the time being at least his more aggressive, scary, ripped and dark Gothic inspired clothing remained in his wardrobe, which was a relief for everyone. Oddly enough, when Noah returned from getting himself ready for the day he wore more or less the same as his older brother... even down to the padding under their shorts. What was an even bigger surprise was that Ryan wanted to play with his little brother and go to pre-school with him. It was the weekend so there was no school so mummy suggested a day in the park. Both seemed eager for the experience, whilst Sarah couldn’t believe how quickly things had changed. She needed to catch up but first, before the park she needed to get a few extra provisions. # Sarah couldn’t remember the last time Ryan had voluntarily joined her shopping. Both he and his brother held onto the trolley as she guided it down each aisle occasionally stopping to load or peruse some item or other. Eventually she came to the nappy and baby products section and nervously started down not too sure how Ryan might react. This was the main reason they were there, and it was to get something stronger than her Tena’s for her eldest sudden attack of incontinence. By now she’d had time to think and had come to the conclusion that the clever little device to wean her son off video games had done its job, but too well. She wasn’t sure why he should now wet but instinct kicked in again and told her to ‘be prepared’. Though convinced this might only be a temporary thing she wanted to make sure her boy was comfortable whilst it lasted. She certainly couldn’t object to how amenable he’d suddenly become, or how pleasant to his brother. No, she was quite happy to take full advantage to enjoy this return to, whatever it was, whilst it lasted. His wet morning had come as a surprise and so, as not to be surprised again, she thought better to get some protection... just in case. She found pull-ups for older boys but to be on the safe side opted for some equally teen/adult style disposables she was sure would fit. There was no harm in being prepared and, in a very strange way, was enjoying buying this stuff for her newly adorable eldest. Ryan seemed happy to watch and nod to any suggestion his mother made about him being comfy wearing padding. She got a kick out of his childish acquiescence and on impulse grabbed a myriad of other stuff she hoped would help the current situation. Not only that, but the two brothers pointing to items on display seemed keen on wearing identical things. At one point both boys disappeared down the toy aisle and were caught up in a discussion about some action figures and who was best. It got to such a stage where she had to buy each of them a small character to quieten down their excitement. It seemed a small price to pay to see how happy they both were with their new toy. “Mummy, I need a wee.” It was Noah doing a little potty dance whilst desperately holding in his expected pee. “Okay sweetie, look, there’s a toilet over there. Ryan, why don’t you take your brother to the boy’s room and help him with his shorts?” “C’mon bro, let’s see who can wee first.” Excitedly he grabbed his little brother’s hand and they rushed off to the public toilet opposite. Mum carried on paying for her purchases whilst the boys had a game of ‘who can hit the little blue cake in the metal urinal’. It was Noah who won because, unknown to Ryan, his Tena was already soaked as he’d wet himself unwittingly a few minutes before and had very little pee to aim. Noah pulled up his pull-up after his success but Ryan was on the verge of tears because he was wet and didn’t have any clean pull-ups to wear. “I’ll go and get mummy Ry, you wait here.” Noah told his older brother. “Will you be okay?” Ryan nodded his head slowly, still uncertain to what would happen next. Will mummy be angry because he didn’t make it? He was very worried. Out in the supermarket Sarah had just finished bagging everything she’d bought but a huge pack of teen/adult disposables were the last thing to be loaded back onto the trolley. “Mummy,” Noah whispered, “Ry’s wet his pants and he’s crying over there.” He pointed to the closed men’s toilet door. “Oh dear, was there anyone else in there?” Noah shook his head no and led her forward. Seeing as the package of disposables were the handiest item available she quickly opened them up, pulled one out and entered the forbidden territory (for a woman at least) of the men’s toilet. Ryan had streaks running down his face where he’d cried in shame and fear. “Sowwy mummy I didn’t mean to do it... sowwy, sowwy...sowwy,”his voice full of sadness and regret. “Don’t worry pet.” She couldn’t believe how childish he appeared and her heart went out to the poor boy. “It’s nothing that can’t be quickly fixed so... into this cubicle and let’s get you sorted. Noah sweetie, can you wait outside by the trolley and guard it with your life like a big boy?” “Ohh yes mummy.” He eagerly rushed outside to begin his big boy duty. Her fifteen year old big baby just stood there as his mother unbuttoned his pants and slipped off his soaked Tena. “Oh sweetheart,” she examined both front and back in case there was something else deposited there, “nothing too dramatic so soon have you nice and dry.” She pulled at the toilet roll and spent a little while dabbing away at her son’s damp areas and decided that when they got home he’d need a bath and his pubic area needed cleaning up and hair removing. In the meantime, she fluffed out the disposable and fed it between his legs and taped it tightly into position. He wriggled immaturely as the soft fuzzy material encased is boyish parts. “There sweetheart, all done and now you’re so much safer. How does that feel?” Ryan was just so glad his mummy wasn’t angry so he hugged her and said “Fank you mummy... I’m sowwy.” He seemed to be getting younger by the minute but despite the suddenness of it, Sarah couldn’t help being captured and won over by this turn of events and the unbelievable cuteness of her oldest boy. “No need to be sorry sweetie. All done... so, let’s get your pants back on.” Unfortunately they were soaked so decided it was far better just to leave him how he was. “Sorry love but you can’t wear shorts, they’re too wet. You’ll just have to make do with a nice fluffy nappy OK?” She was expecting some kick back but it never came he just looked relieved to be in something dry and, holding her hand, followed his mother out of the toilet. They emerged and Noah was pleased he’d successfully completed his guard mission. Dipping just below his blue shirt the new padding was clearly visible but Ryan simply smiled at his younger brother and reached for his hand. “No one took anything mummy.” Noah’s small hand gently accepted by his older brother’s and the two giggled at each other. Sarah looked around to see if anyone noticed her fifteen year old wearing just a nappy but no one said anything. As she was desperate to cheer Ryan up and reward Noah she made a suggestion. “Well done you. I think both my little soldiers deserve a treat so... how about some ice cream eh?” “Yeah!” They chorused. # tbc #

Well thanks guys. Nice to know you're like Ryan and hooked. However, I'm not going to try and wean you off it as another chapter is imminent. Hugs

Game Changer Fifteen year old Ryan loved his gaming console. He’d had it for two years now and had all the latest games but they had drawn him in to such an extent that when at home he hardly ever interacted with his family. His four year old brother Noah had more or less been banned from entering his bedroom by his parents as the games Ryan played were not for the eyes of one so young. In truth, they were quite brutal and not suitable for a teenager either. However, Ryan loved to ‘shoot ‘em up’ and ‘blow ‘em to smithereens’ whether they be invading armies, aliens or covert operatives, he loved to take them on and prove his superiority. However, since he was a tot, Noah had, much to their mother’s annoyance, often wondered into his big brother’s bedroom, sat on his knee and watched him do battle; the colourful (if scary) graphics more appealing than the actual violence. One of the main problems with Ryan was just how much he immersed himself in the games to the extent of hardly communicating with anyone except those he was playing online. Once the screen was active, donned the headset and had the controller in hand, he was committed only to displaying his strategies and crushing whoever needed defeating. Meanwhile, the occasional intrusion of his little brother didn’t stop him from gaming supremacy. In recent weeks Ryan’s gaming had got a great deal more aggressive, which had led to later nights and less attention to anything else. His schoolwork was suffering because of this, and despite promises not to play past midnight, some sessions went on until the early hours. His parents didn’t want to be seen to ‘lay down the law’ but realised something had to be done. Rather than simply banning him from the equipment they wanted him to give up on his own accord. That way, they reasoned, he’d feel he was still in control. Alas, this strategy was proving ineffectual and his mother, Sarah, went online herself to see if there were alternative ways of treating her son’s possible addiction. ****** GAME CHANGER Do you know someone who needs help with their PC Games addiction? Someone who spends too much time in front of the screen? Who has cut themselves off from family and friends? Who only lives to play the next level? Then we have the answer. Game Changer is a new, exciting development from Alt/Feed Services that helps restore that ‘addict’ into the person they used to be by the practice of focused soundwaves, visual stimuli and algorithmic applications. Just plug in to any USB socket linked to the player’s device, or PC gaming apparatus and Game Changer will take it from there. ****** In amongst all the mum’s chat and helpful hints this particular advert ‘popped up’ and caught Sarah’s attention. Not because of the big bold lettering but because it appeared to be more forthright. It didn’t pretend that most gamers weren’t addicted to their screens it said it like it was and she appreciated such honesty. As she investigated the finer detail it became clear that by purchasing the advertised ‘magic’ memory stick, she could actually help her son. It claimed that no matter what game the player was involved in, Game Changer would supplant it and via music, images and sound waves help that person become less ‘aggressive’, more relaxed and restore much sought after Circadian rhythms. She liked the possibility he would unconsciously want to spend less time online and pay more attention to those about him and certainly (she hoped more than anything) to improve his rapidly deteriorating school work. Not to mention his lack of sociability or person hygiene. The more she read about this amazing ‘scientific’ breakthrough, the more encouraged she was by its claims, which appeared to be more direct than anything she’d found after scrutinizing wellness and self-improvement sites. Although much was just too ‘technical’ for her, it did appear to be the type of clever and innocuous way of turning her son around. It argued the system operated on certain ‘audio waves and visual stimuli – connecting the mental and visceral world to make a friendly environment, with less stress, for the user’ so she reasoned “What harm could it do to try?” Yes, to Sarah this sounded just the thing she wanted but hoped, once she’d paid the fee online, that it wasn’t a con and all she’d be getting was a memory stick full of whale songs. However, there were some positive endorsements but of course she wasn’t completely clueless and knew that often false claims were made. Nevertheless, for the introductory fee of £49.99 she took a chance and hoped Ryan would see the benefits from that nominal investment. # The blurb continued that once the ‘plug-in’ was achieved the programming would take over and introduce a new ‘game’ for the recipient to play. It would promise an exciting and different type of gaming experience for those ‘brave enough to accept the challenge’. The tech wizards at Game Changer knew that most gamers loved a challenge and even if the console suddenly started offering them something they knew shouldn’t be happening (i.e. a new game appearing on their closed platform) most would want to know where the challenge led. However, once that player pressed the ‘accept’ button the console or computer was no longer under the gamer’s control, Game Changer would do just what its name suggested. The new game ‘Phantom Interloper’ promised a predatory presence to be defeated or incorporated into their own army, plus an extra ‘Cerebral Phantom’ to be deciphered and conquered to complete the game. The excellent graphics and a powerful music score would lead the player into a world they hadn’t experienced before. Also, what they were unaware of was that with each movement of the controller, each visual reference, their voice commands and choices made were all collected and, thanks to Deepcode, used to unfold the program as it progressed. In the game there were ‘moments of reflection’, where the player, to move forward, had to recollect something from their past - to help defeat the ‘Cerebral Phantom’. Nothing that happened onscreen, in the thought process, or bodily movement went unnoticed. Everything was identified, stored and made part of future levels in the game. That Phantom enemy could be confused by personal memories and the further back and deep those memories were the better. It was implied that the menace was evil and those memories, especially happy memories, confused and derailed its scheming advance. Deepcode could emphasise music and messages, change and amplify visuals, whilst the graphics indicated just when a memory had hit its target. Cunningly the player was encouraged to dig deeper for even happier memories to thwart their Phantom foe. Deepcode trawled every action and reaction interpreting and devising new strategies within milliseconds, all to keep the player involved in the game. Paradoxically it appeared that substituting one game for another was to be a solution. It was the cleverness of the program that in those ‘moments of reflection’, which delved the deepest and uncovered instances and actions from childhood, produced the most usable information. Through these ‘moments’ it was easy to manipulate the player to open up and express fears, desires, hurt and happiness, all within the ‘moment’. This was where Deeptone was at its strongest, feeding on this input and moving the game forward. With more ‘moments of reflection’ to get the player relaxed and at ease with not playing the game but simply talking to the screen, expressing their feelings and experiences; thereby confusing the Phantom that only existed on hate and fear. Perhaps surprisingly, heart rates dropped, anxiety levels decreased considerably and the brain began producing chemicals that made each competitor feel good about themselves... thus more inclined to ‘open up’. Although the new game Phantom Interloper Game Changer produced was addictive to begin with it soon identified and produced algorithms and mental stimuli that would take control. Players may have thought they were skilfully navigating the game and defeating the Phantom but were in fact being led, step by step into another way of thinking. That was the unique development Deepcode by means of Phantom Interloper were intended to do. Deepcode was designed to embed itself deep in the psyche and control the player’s future direction. Once that program was in place Phantom Interloper would then no longer need its tech base as it was operating directly in the brain and could manoeuvre thoughts and actions as required. Deepcode was a unique deep mental package and, thanks to the masses of information it gleaned from each player, a course, a distinct and individual course, based on their own interpreted desires, could be mapped out. *** Although a department of Alt/Feed Services which make and develop their own successful gaming lines, Game Changer had been independently created as a side-line and to offset criticism the company received from worried parents. From the very start the designers and tech bods at the company saw this adaption as an aid for concerned parents to wean their offspring away from too much reliance on PC games and the easy addiction they often foster. They had to show they cared so Game Changer became their main project to defer the growing hostility to their huge and profitable presence in the market. It was a concession to the possibility of government interference and general public unease with the seemingly unregulated gaming industry and an entire youth culture dominated by PC games. It was the industries weapon they hoped would satisfy and contain any future discussion on the subject. So, it was rushed into production and instantly made available via selected trial outlets... but it had to work and work well. The In House tests had been hugely successful but this understated online release was basically just the pilot, with Deepcode feeding back information to the company so any tweaks or problems could be ironed out before mass release. *** Meanwhile, by means of the screen and sound waves, those new visuals and audio commands, were already fed direct into the brain. The program selected those moments when the subject was most happy to lead the way and guide them away from a dependency on the thrill of gaming and back to a more innocent time of learning and discovery. By the time Phantom Interloper finished its appointed path, which, depending on the keenness of the player, would have renewed, by way algorithms chosen from facts garnered during those ‘moments of reflection’, a new trajectory was attained for the player. The main algorithm identified and promoted innocence and happiness above anything else, as these virtues helped defeat the Phantom menace and introduced a thought process to a time before the player had an interest in PC games. Pursuit of further games would be exorcised and the concept was that they return, in some form, better able to interact with family and friends simply through averting their PC interests by making them remember earlier happier times. Well, that was the concept. # Friday afternoon and he’d just got in from school but Ryan quickly made his way up to his bedroom to continue his latest passion, Zombie Killers – A Deadfull Night! It was a game that several people could play at once and he had a few school mates and even more folk he didn’t know, all immersed in trying to kill the undead. What he didn’t know was that as soon as he turned his computer on, the hidden memory stick his mother had recently purchased pinged into life. Ryan had quickly changed out of his school clothes and slipped easily into a t-shirt and shorts and settled himself comfortably in front of the screen. With headphones and microphone in place, he identified to those already playing his arrival. Within minutes he was up to his neck in splattered zombies. So immersed in his game he didn’t hear his mother calling him down for tea so she brought it up to him on a tray, which he barely acknowledged with a nod of thanks. She shrugged and hoped that her little unwanted gift would do what it promised so exited his room without comment as he shouted his commands and more blood and guts splashed across the screen. “Die you bastards” was a constant refrain - the fact that his parents had both warned him off this particular game making it even more illicitly enjoyable. Suddenly there was a change of music and the images on screen were replaced by a new pop-up sign. ‘Phantom Interloper - Are you brave enough to accept the challenge?’ Ryan was annoyed that his obliterated zombie count was no longer prominent and the heartening thud as his sword shattered against the skulls of his adversaries had disappeared. Zombies are for wimps... dare you engage in a battle you will ultimately lose? Don’t go running to mummy when you fail... this is only for the elite. Phantom Interloper - The Game Changer. A flashing icon underneath allowed you to accept or deny access. Ryan pressed ‘deny’. ‘Thought as much,’ the graphics taunted rather pettily, ‘too scary for a little kid. Stick to the childish stuff, Phantom Interloper is too advanced for the likes of you’ The option to accept or deny appeared again and again Ryan, eager to get back to his zombies, pressed ‘deny’. Then, instead of just visual taunts he could hear laughter in his headphones, “What a little scaredy-cat.” The voice mocked more and more each time ramping up the level of derision and childishness. “What... don’t feel big enough?” “You little pussy.” The abuse continued and the ‘access’ sign got larger. “OK, last chance Ryan” The game knew his name. A ten second countdown started as the access button changed from a glowing pink and turned a deeper red with each passing second. “We were told you’d be good enough but I suppose all your friends were wrong” 6, 5, 4... Ryan had been shocked that he’d been called by name and wondered how this could be possible but that countdown was quickly passing and he only had two seconds to press... ‘ACCEPT’ on the final second Ryan pressed the unknown, and, unknown to him, Phantom Interloper took control of his computer. From that moment on his every move; the camera captured everything, every word; the mic, like the camera, was live all the time. Even the movement of his fingers on the controller were recorded and evaluated as Deepcode wrote and rewrote the program specifically as Ryan played. At the same time a link was established between Ryan’s console and head office where a stack of servers and techies would eventually get round to deciphering all the trawled info Deepcode produced. It was expected that algorithms would take care of most monotonous work, whilst techies would tweak any underlying snags... when they could get round to it. Meanwhile, Phantom Interloper the game began. The haunting signature tune led into the most glorious graphic universe and Ryan was sucked into a world he would never have thought possible. # Ryan could not believe what was on screen. The images hypnotised, whilst the music and its many layers of sound transported him through a colourful kingdom taking him to incredible highs and unbelievable saddening lows in just a matter of moments. It was a journey like he’d never experienced as he searched for that ‘Cerebral Phantom’. A pile of info filled the screen and he received new directions on how his controller could be used to gain credit and baffle the ‘Phantom’. In minutes he felt exhausted but desperate to attain the next level. The game let him advance; the sooner he reached Level 5 his mind would be so much easier to influence but... now here came that strange part of the program. Instructions by Phantom Interloper whispered in his ear led him to believe that the Phantom could read his thoughts and so, to defeat him this is what he had to do. He needed to pause and think about something completely different from the game. It was also inferred by ‘the voice’ that the Phantom grew stronger the more evil the thought. So to defeat him and win the game it was best to think ‘happy’ thoughts, like the times when the player was younger and more innocent... the Phantom couldn’t cope with innocence. The ‘moment of reflection’ was that opportunity to play the Phantom at its own game and by doing so corrupt its program and thereby finding a way to win the game. # Ryan had been on his computer since he arrived home from school. The meal his mother had brought up on the tray remained untouched and now, five hours later, and five hours of brilliant graphics and unbelievable sounds, thanks to the ‘moment’, he could take a break. At that moment Noah ventured into Ryan’s bedroom to say night-night. Dressed in his Spider-Man pyjama top and his Spider-Man pull-ups he came and sat on his brother’s knee to see what he was up to. Noah snuggled into his brother who would normally have simply told him to leave but on this occasion he felt relaxed (the deltas waves doing their job) and was pleased to greet his younger sibling. The soft padding of the pull-up felt gloriously comforting and as he snuggled in closer Ryan’s mind slipped to when he himself used to wear similar comfy pull-ups to bed. He’d been late getting a potty routine at night and even until he was six year old, still wore pull-ups or nappies at night... it seemed his little brother was having similar trouble. Strangely, he found himself talking about these memories to his brother and telling him how wonderful it was to have no worries because the possibilities of a wet bed were taken care of. On more than one occasion, when he’d been deep into a game and needed the toilet, wished he still had the opportunity to wear a nappy as it would have helped him stay in the battle. However, thinking about how the Phantom used evil thoughts to win, he decided that these thoughts, his thoughts, might just be the right way to go. By speaking about how wonderful being an innocent child was might give him a better chance to defeat his foe the screen colours and sounds changed and he felt more optimistic. It was a tactic he wasn’t to know would forge a template for his own future thoughts and ideas. The soundwaves varied and washed into his ears, through his brain and into his senses. Yes, these relaxing thoughts he knew were working because he could already feel the benefits of such thinking. Subconsciously he felt that the Phantom hated such thoughts so was happy to defeat it with ‘happy thoughts’. Hugging his little brother closer he spoke of the times he also wore pyjamas and nappies but Noah was puzzled at such an admission, this was so unlike Ryan. But having his older brother hugging, patting his padding and being positive and encouraging was something he rarely experienced. He gratefully cuddled his big brother back pleased he wasn’t calling him a big baby or something similar like he usually did. Although he didn’t know about Deepcode or what it could do, neither did the designers of Phantom Interloper. Deepcode and Phantom Interloper had been coded by two different departments, each with its own modus operandi. Unfortunately for Ryan, when those two codes amalgamated the newly formed algorithm took him on an unforeseen journey. Of course, this might have been, no, should have been predicted but wasn’t... the program had gone rogue. ### tbc ###

This is an extra piece that went in the middle of the story A New Start but was edited out at the time. Now I’ve made it into a little story in its own right. Hope you enjoy it and if you’d like to read the entire thing please follow the link below. https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/60586-a-new-start-complete-re-post/ Vicky Angela had had another incredibly busy day at Everything4Baby and because of the popularity of the mail order side of the business was finding it hard to keep up with the various demands on her time. Although she was completely organised and had various computer ordering and stock controls in place, the other, everyday paperwork meant she needed help. What had started out as just an occasional ‘speciality mail order product’ had developed into a thriving business, with more and more ABDL customers hearing word-of-mouth about the fantastic store. Since realising her shop Everything4Baby could tap into a market place where it dealt with babies of all shapes and sizes she’d never looked back. Each day seemed to produce new ideas, new designs and new opportunities for her more demanding customers. She wasn’t complaining, the shop was doing incredibly well and the mail order side had gone through the roof. Now she had another person to think about, little Joshua, her lovely new baby boy was taking up much of her time so she needed a bit of help. Whilst the distribution part was working well, the extra paperwork was getting her down and needed someone who could co-ordinate, process and keep on top of things as they arose. One day, whilst talking to one of her many ABDL customers about this very problem she was surprised that a childish little voice of a sweetly dressed ‘baby’, in a pale green satin party frock and huge matching sagging frilly satin nappy, volunteered her services. Victor, who preferred to be called Vicky, was a forty-five year-old bookkeeper who loved his ‘little’ life. Since he’d discovered his little side when he was fourteen years old he’d loved wearing nappies. His parents didn’t quite understand what was going on in their son’s head or why he should desire to wear such a babyish item. In truth, at fourteen, he didn’t really know himself but the urge was strong and his parents tried to be as supportive as they could of their only child. For them it seemed the easiest course of action, having to do a ton of washing every day, with urine soaked bedding and clothing or let their boy wear some protection, a nappy seemed an obvious trade and their son was happy. # When he was almost seventeen he was out in the park on a wonderfully sunny day. He was wearing a thick disposable under his shorts and enjoying the personal comfort only a nappy wearer knows. Taking full advantage of the weather he’d stretched himself out on the grass and snoozed in the sun. Victor woke up to find himself being looked down on by an older man who was smiling. “Looks to me like there’s a little boy who could do with a change.” Victor didn’t really know what to say or do. He’d never actually been in such a situation before but the man didn’t appear threatening, just observant. The man took his lack of response as shyness and continued. “I can tell from the colour that you’re wet…” The man spoke softly but with a degree of self-assurance and knowledge as he pointed to the bit of bloated fabric that was peeking from under Victor’s shorts. “And that you need to be changed if you don’t want to get a rash.” Victor had happily filled his nappy only minutes before, luxuriating in the warmth that spread around his groin on such a pleasant summer’s day. He hadn’t planned on anyone joining him, or noticing him in fact, but nonetheless here was a man and he’d noticed his padding. The innocent teen was stunned more than anything else and squirmed in his damp nappy not wanting to either deny or confirm the man’s suspicions. However, the man had more to say. “If you were my little boy I wouldn’t let you lie around in such a soggy state… I’d keep my pretty little baby in clean nappies and pretty little outfits suitable... for such a cute boy.” Although Victor was shocked by the way the man spoke, he loved what he was saying and couldn’t help responding to such words. This was the first contact outside of the family who recognised he wore nappies and it was both scary and a thrill to the baby teen. The man became his first ‘daddy’ and taught him how to enjoy being babied and to relish his juvenile side to its fullest. # Over the years, as Victor grew up he left home and pursued his desire a little more becoming the kept baby of different mummies and daddies. It was his second daddy that introduced him to his feminine side by keeping him in pretty baby clothes and living out his fantasies as a baby girl. It was he who changed Victor into Vicky by denying him any form of boyish escape, preventing him from masturbation, keeping his nappies thick, tight and impenetrable and only responding if Vicky was a good girl, which Victor tried to be. All his subsequent caregivers also regarded him as a cute little baby girl and indeed, Victor came to accept that was in fact who he/she was. He changed the timbre of his voice, he constantly wore a chastity device and tried to live up to his mummies and daddies expectations of him being the ‘sweetest, cutest, prettiest little girlie in the entire world’. # Of course that worked whilst young but for the past few years he’d been alone with his fetish. As he’d gotten older the mummies and daddies had disappeared and he’d found he needed to work. Despite not having much in the way of employment before, he took a certified public accountants course and, after passing various examinations, became an independent auditor. He found the prospect of working from home, dressed as he desired the ideal situation. If he had to visit any clients he changed into something more appropriate but always wore his thick protection under his suit. These days however, he only wore his favourite baby clothes occasionally and loved the opportunity Everything4Baby offered to relive being that little baby girl from his youth. Now Vicky, dressed in her finest, babiest party dress was timidly suggesting her services to Angela because she was very attracted to this strong independent woman, who gave people like her a place to meet and had access to new and specially designed baby clothes in abundance. Once Vicky was working for Everything4Baby she wasn’t the only one to offer their services. Before long Angela was able to leave the mail order side of the company in the hands of three rather enthusiastic ex-customers who between them proved incredibly efficient. All Angela had to do was be firm, compliment them on their outfits and make sure the selection of fancy ‘Pampers’ was well stocked. Without really realising what impact she was making, she had become the mummy figure to quite a number of ‘little’ boys and girls. # Not only that, so trusted was Angela many of her customers felt able to share secrets, worries, hopes and fears with her. She learned quickly what it took to be an ABDL, and from one or two of the mummies and daddies, how to keep their little ones “Happy in a nappy”. That idea of a happy baby; smiling and playing in total innocence and wearing an obvious thick nappy with large colourful pins, was the image that became the trademark of the company. It branded everything they made and became the trusted label for all her ABDL merchandise. Angela was intelligent and soaked up all these little titbits of information, filing them in her brain and sorting them into different sections. She became aware that although the majority of ‘babies’ loved all the dressing up, the mummy, daddy scenario and giving control to others… not all ‘babies’ wanted to be babies. Some adults, and young people, loved the wearing of nappies and nothing else. They loved the comfort and freedom a padded bum allows and were happy to soak their disposable with no other thought to what the rest of the grown-up community might think. Meanwhile, there were some who just didn’t want their ‘child’ to grow up too quickly so engineered their juvenile status, whilst others insisted on total control, whether their ‘baby’ wanted it or not. This knowledge made her company Everything4Baby the absolute leader in adult baby-wear... the company catered for everyone. # At home, her own baby Joshua gurgled, smiled and played with all his other ‘little’ friends. The crèche she created for a community she loved soon filled up with babies and toddlers of all ages. It was another part of the business that took off exponentially and was an instant hit. So successful had it all become that now Little Joshiwoo was a permanent part of her life, she found that having a bunch of equally ‘little’ babies around was good for him. Everyone seemed to thrive in such company, whilst her little boy now had loads of friends to play with. Everything4Baby was a huge success and each day brought new customers and new ideas. The demands on her time were also growing but, thanks to the help of her manager Vicky, who squealed with delight as much as any of the toddlers, the business never faltered. The manager’s newly designed - super comfy nappy, was another line that suddenly found favour with a bunch of clients who also looked to Vicky for inspiration and direction. Joshiwoo was also a trendsetter as mummy found more and more new outfits to make her precious little boy look and feel special. Daddy Griffin brought his two boys to join the crèche as he and Angela continued to develop their encouraging and supportive relationship. It was true the shop had lived up to its title and Everything4Baby did exactly what it said on the tin. ## end ##

Hi Maly I'm afraid I've removed Mrs Hopkins and Inclinations from the site and aren't planning on returning to them anytime soon. Sorry. Hopefully, might have some newer stuff up soon. In the meantime... as always, thanks for your continued support. Hugs Les

Thanks Maly, and thanks Eagle0769 So glad you enjoyed my return to this story and being so positive about the extra chapters and the ending. Granny's eyes aren't just looking down on them from the portrait any more... maybe Georgie's gift is more than just painting pretty pictures? Hugs Les

Part 11 I explained to mum and dad how with his father leaving and the subsequent problems Denise endured the entire thing had a profound effect on George who now had a mental age of a toddler. “Oh my God, the poor boy,” mum empathised. “Poor woman,” dad added. “Yes,” I joined in, “people were not kind except for one person... Mrs Hardy, erm, Thompson, I mean, Denise’s estranged mother, without a second thought, took them in and helped her back from the brink.” I hoped I wasn’t being too melodramatic for my parents but from what Denise had said, she wasn’t far off doing something very drastic as she slipped down the hole she found herself in. She was in no position to stop that slide and was dragging her scared and confused son down with her. I saw it as my duty to defend Denise and all she’d endured since the flight from next door. There was so much more I wanted to say but thought it was really her decision just how much they were told. However, I did tell them, that I had a phone number if they wanted to discuss anything further with her but she wasn’t keen on making the journey back to the area where all her problems began. “Mmmm, that’s understandable,” agreed dad. After that there were a few moments of recollection before they began to tell me what a bad idea it was. + I was dreading the phone ringing so when it did I was really quite a bundle of nerves. I’d just got Georgie changed and nicely wrapped in his thick nightly padding when it went. I knew who it would be and wondered, after ten year and more, how I would be able to chat about something that for years I hadn’t had to confront. The Philips’, despite being our next door neighbours and Georgie and Mel being childhood best of friends, hadn’t been there to offer the support I’d needed when trouble broke. The general opinion was not very sympathetic towards me because of accusations that I must have known about my husband’s criminal intentions. I hadn’t but it hurt a lot that was how most people thought. I had no one definite to blame for such a slur but it was one that gained credence and was the start of my anguish. When I disappeared and we found our way to mums not once on my mobile or via email did any of my neighbours reach out. I was cut off completely. Thank God for mum otherwise I’d have been more swamped than I actually was. However, I now needed a favour and as I padded downstairs to answer the phone I picked up the receiver with some misgivings... but hoped that I’d maintain civility and get my hopes across without losing any of the control I thought I had. “Hello” Quite an inauspicious start to what I was sure would be the third degree. At that moment, something happened that had never happened before. Georgie had got up from his bed, waddled down the stairs and stood in the doorway to listen in. He’d never left his bed before and this was quite a moment. However, I saw he wanted to be involved so waved him over as I added some pleasantries as I began to speak with who was on the end of the phone. Georgie came and snuggled up against my bosom. I was breathing quite heavily, such was the anticipation and fear for where this conversation might end up but it was Melanie who spoke first and then put her parents on conference call so everyone could join in. Georgie’s presence had an immediate effect on me. He calmed me down as I hugged and patted hi soft thick padding. His slinky pink plastic pants, which he’d asked if he could continue to wear, together with his pink onesie made me go more maternal than I think I’d ever been before. This was silly really, I’d just put him in all this stuff and yet now, here beside me, the feelings I have to protect and love my damaged son meant I wouldn’t take any nonsense from my ex-neighbours... even if it did mean me losing Melanie. + Mrs Thompson, I mean Denise (I’ll have to get used to calling her that), answered all mum and dad’s questions. She even complimented them on producing such a wonderful daughter who was so attuned to a child’s needs. She was very open with them about why she’d booked me in the first place, hoping against hope that perhaps our past as best friends might just open a mental pathway that he recognised. She admitted that as yet sadly she saw no signs of this happening but realised it was purely wishful thinking on her part. As it was, I’d proved a better babysitter and a more efficient caregiver than anyone else. I listened in, trying not to interfere too much, or guide the conversation, but there have been times at their house, and especially in the conservatory with granny’s portrait looking down on me, when I’ve thought I knew and understood everything so well. Meanwhile, Denise was upfront about her current economical state and that she needed the job being offered because of the financial security it would give. Alas, in so doing, meant the flexibility would disappear and that’s where a more permanent caregiver was needed. She confessed that she’d happily offer me a full time job looking after Georgie if I was old enough and wanted to. However, if I could do it for the length of the school break, it would give her time to look for a different candidate. Unfortunately, she was under pressure herself and hoped that I might be able to accommodate her temporary request. I was impressed with how she dealt with all my parent’s queries and I could feel my determination growing that I wanted the job as nanny to Georgie. I began to think that even if they forbid me from doing so, I would still find a way of doing it. Throughout the conversation I thought my parents were trying to find fault, or catch her out, and I didn’t like that. In fact, the more Denise spoke and answered the question posed the more I felt protective of her. When I noticed mum pull a face, whilst actually agreeing verbally it annoyed me so much I actually called her out, much to my parent’s surprise. Dad said he didn’t really want his sixteen year old daughter travelling backwards and forwards every day - late nights and early mornings. Denise simply said that would be no problem as she had a spare room with my name on it if that made life easier for everyone and helped put their minds at ease. Dad was stumped for an argument against that idea. Mum then put forward the fact that it would interfere with my social life, my friends, my other babysitting obligations. “Well, of course I’d hate to interfere with any of that.” Denise answered. “But Melanie has said that she’s always thankful to have parents who respect their growing daughter’s opinion and decision making abilities. I’m also of that opinion. I’d love Melanie to be here for Georgie and me but she is a young lady who knows her own mind. If she says ‘No’ then ‘No’ it is and I would think no less of her because of the fantastic job she’s done so far and the help and encouragement she’s given my son.” With each word she spoke I was getting even more single-minded (if that was possible) that I would be spending my summer break being the perfect nanny. There was also another thing bubbling inside my head... it was a job I was meant to do. + God, that was difficult. I tried my best to sound positive and honest but I got the feeling that I’m still not trusted, even after all this time. However, because Georgie was cuddling with me all the way through the conversation, his gentle presence kept me calm. It was really quite amazing how just stroking his hair, or patting his thick padding, or running my hand over the silky texture of his plastic pants, relaxed me and made the ordeal that much more tolerable. My advice would be to all parents who have proper loving kids to keep them in nappies and plastic pants because they’ll reduce the anxiety levels instantly once you get to pet them. So much for my advice, Impractical I know but it certainly works for me. Meanwhile, back to the real world. I didn’t get a definitive answer but I knew, regrettably, that the debate in the Philips’ household was going to be fractious. However, I hoped I hadn’t made things impossible for Melanie and trusted that when she called me back (whenever that might be) that at least she’d still be able to do next Saturday. If I’d been a religious woman I might even have prayed that an angel would come to my rescue if Melanie couldn’t continue with her amazing relationship with Georgie. After the call, bless him, my son was dozing whilst still hugging tightly, so I suggested I take him back up to his bed. “Don’t worry mummy, she’ll be back with us soon.” His eyes were heavy with sleep but that was typical of him, even if he wasn’t sure what was going on, he was always so loving and supportive. I bet everyone wishes they had a son like mine. I got him back to his room and popped in his dummy, which he instantly began to suck and settled back down. For him this had been quite a late night but I was so glad I had him with me. I hate to think how things might have gone had I not had his soothing presence. “Nigh –nigh munny,” he was tired but tried to speak with his dummy in, “hanny il b wi us soom.” Such reassurance from him did lift me so as I kissed him night-night. I can never stop gazing at my boy. Snuggled down under his juvenile blanket, in his blue and pink onesie and thick padding, whilst sucking on his dummy, I filled up with as much love as anyone can have for their child and there was no one anywhere quite like Georgie. + After the call mum gave me an appraising look. “You’ve changed young lady... and I’m not sure if it’s for the best.” Nevertheless, I returned the damning look because I knew she had opinions without knowing the facts, and after ten years, that really bugged me. However, I also knew what she meant because in just a couple of weeks I’d gone from a nice meek and mild schoolgirl, who’d want to keep the peace at all costs, to someone with a mind of their own and who wouldn’t put up with any crap. Yet, having said that, I could (and do) go weak at the knees when thinking of Georgie. It’s having spent time in that environment. The house has been through a great deal and I’m sure before the stressed out ‘Hardy family’ arrived, there’d been a lot of love going on with her mother’s day care responsibilities. I suppose I picked up on that. I knew, from what Denise had said about her mother that the day care was a placed loved by all. Her mother loved looking after all the children, the kids themselves found a place of fun and happiness and their parents found a woman who could be relied upon to do the best she could for their offspring. Yes, Georgie’s granny was a force to be reckoned with and there was something in me that strived to be that good and accepting - strong and supportive. It might have been the way her portrait looked down across the conservatory but even I got the impression she was keeping an eye on all that went on. I also got the impression that she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her sweet baby grandson. I wanted to be that person who attained that much respect and love from one and all. Perhaps, if this all worked out, maybe we could open up the day care centre again and I could look after many children, but, I was getting ahead of myself. I had hoped Georgie might have good memories of the times we spent together as toddlers but somehow, that’s now all gone but his granny, the day care and the kids themselves gave him a new perspective. Not the one perhaps everyone expected but one with which he seems happy. I was seeing it as my duty to carry on that good work. + My parents continued to argue about it not being right and how they thought Georgie should be in some kind of institution where he could be looked after properly. I argued that he was being looked after properly and no institution, hospice or private hospital could offer him more care and attention than how his mother and gran had, and continued to care for him. They just couldn’t see it but eventually I wore them down with my argument, although it might have been my determination, and they agreed that I could spend my summer ‘nannying’ if I was sure that’s what I wanted to do. However, they stipulated two things; the first was that I find a course that would give me childminding status, and second, that if at any time I felt it was all getting too much I had to promise I’d give it up and not continue just because I felt sorry for Georgie. I was so pleased I’d got this much consent (in the way things were going I honestly thought they’d never agree) that I didn’t tell them that in no way did I feel sorry for Georgie. In fact, quite the opposite, I found him a beacon of unselfish love, thoughtfulness and there was no denying it... unbelievable cuteness. I know there would be many who agree with my parent’s assessment that he should be in an institution but that’s because they didn’t know him and had no idea what the boy had been through to get to where he was. To me, there are far too many people happy to consign others to the scrap heap if it means they don’t have to deal with a problem. Mainly though, Georgie wasn’t a problem, he was just a cute, if large, toddler who loved everyone and everything, who had a talent for art and who looked wonderfully happy in a nappy. I went and grabbed the portrait Georgie had done of me and had received many plaudits from everyone including mum and dad. At last I could reveal who this talented artist actually was... initially they didn’t believe me. I told them about my interaction with Mrs Langford-Court and her desire to have an exhibition. Though I didn’t add what Denise’s opinion of the woman was. They seemed impressed and I could see they were now unsure of the true nature of Georgie. It just made it all so clear to me, everyone and everything would be better off with more Georgie’s in the world. + The following morning when she called with the good news I was ecstatic. I was just giving Georgie his breakfast and planning on what he was going to wear for the day when the phone rang. I wasn’t expecting it to be Melanie, more likely work, so I wasn’t ready for such good news first thing. When she said that she could take the reins from the following Saturday after school broke up, she was “...available to be the nanny I wanted”. I asked if this was OK with her parents and she said they’d had a long and frank discussion but the end result was... she had permission. The two stipulations didn’t seem unfair and I thought how grown up of her to want to be registered as a childminder and not simply a babysitter. I was so grateful to her parents although didn’t know what she’d had to go through or agree to, to get this fantastic result. Both Georgie and I danced around the kitchen we were so happy. + She had to get off to school but promised to call me that evening and then we could finalise things better. She said she was so excited and couldn’t believe the way things had panned out and so quickly. I just hoped she hadn’t felt overwhelmed by everything and that she’d thought through her own needs and hopes. We talked for quite some time but wondered if being called a nanny was too much. When I thought about it ‘nanny’ was probably an unacceptable term but Melanie didn’t mind. The fact that I helped her find a course online that would of benefit with any future qualifications. I was pleased she took the job so seriously and the fact that she wondered if, at some time in the future, we might open up the house for childminding more than just Georgie, I liked her ambition. Very much like mother. When I’d finished chatting Georgie came and crawled up beside me. Even though he was almost as tall as me, it was always lovely when he did this and we snuggled together. He had his thick daytime nappy covered by the pale blue vinyl pants that had little puppies running all over them. His t-shirt also had a puppy on the front but he’d discarded the matching shorts. I patted his bottom and he cuddled in further, sucking his dummy and looking happy with the news. Although, when I think about it, he never seemed in any doubt she’d be coming to join us. In fact, he said that she’d be with us soon. We made plans to get the spare room ready, just in case she decided she would like to stay over. I quite liked the thought that I’d have another person to talk with. It all seemed to be panning out and I can’t tell you how pleased the company was that I was going to become full time after all. + I arrived Saturday morning armed with a small case full of clothes, my laptop and some books on childminding. Denise and Georgie greeted me at the door both appeared to be very excited. Georgie was dressed in the same Pokémon outfit he wore when I first saw him. He looked his usual gorgeous self and every bit of the cutie he was. His mother was very welcoming and showed me to ‘my’ room, should I decide to use it. I’d more or less decided it was a good idea to spend as much time as possible there so that wasn’t a problem. When I got downstairs Georgie came in for a cuddle. He’d done this so many times and yet it never failed to send a shiver of excitement up my spine. When he pulled away he took out his dummy and had the most dazzling smile. A few moments later he said “Granny” and tilted his head ever so slightly. “Nanny?” I gently corrected. He came back for more cuddling. “I love you granny.” “Hmmm???” +++++ The End

This is one of those tales that I've read and reread in the hope that one day it might be finished. Hugs to you for coming back and adding to this glorious piece of regression. Absolutely love it. Les

Let's hope it's not going to be too confusing for any of them. Thanks for your continued support Maly, it's always apreciated.

Part 10 Mrs Thompson saw that I was a bit stunned by what she’d just asked. What she didn’t know was that I’d more or less lived this scenario already and I knew what a storm it would kick up - if my dream was to be believed. “Look love, I know it’s a lot to ask but please, take some time and have a think... talk it over with your parents and...” She could still see things ticking over in my head. To be honest I was still a bit shaken by Georgie’s look. I mean, I know it sounds daft but it was like I was already a guest at a party I didn’t know I’d been invited to (or perhaps I had but just didn’t know it). Also, I wasn’t sure what all this meant because all these points were coming together just as I thought/dreamed it would. “Oh, I’m sorry love,” she changed the subject, “I forgot, how’s the play going?” I came out of my daze. “I’ve quit. Things weren’t going as I’d hoped and, too many distractions.” “That boy?” “Well,” I shrugged trying to be non-committal, “a boy.” “I hope he’s worth it love but...” then realising something, “Oh, is that why you’re now available next week?” I simply nodded as I didn’t want to get into a huge discussion. “Well, from a purely selfish point of view... yeah!” She waved her hands in the air as if celebrating some childish victory or other. It was also nice to see her face so animated; it took a good ten years off when she wasn’t being serious. That little “Yeah” was quite a revelation because I saw that Mrs Thompson had a silly side and wasn’t afraid to show it. I mean, I couldn’t imagine my mum in a hundred years saying something so silly and juvenile but then, she doesn’t have a Georgie to live with. He was giggling at his mum’s reaction and I caught just how much the two of them were like each other. Well, perhaps I’m reading too much into that moment of silliness but it did look like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders and the result was instant happiness... and I’d done that by making myself available for next weekend. I felt really good about myself because I could make a difference. I will make a difference. She looked at her watch. “Oh hell, where does the time fly? I’m going to be late so... well... you know where everything is and I’m sorry but I’ll have to leave you with Georgie’s soaked morning nappy, if that’s OK?” “No probs, you get yourself off I’ll see to our Little Minion.” Georgie had finished his bowl of cereal and was sat quietly wriggling (not unhappily) in his soaked nappy. After his mum kissed him bye-bye and she’d driven off, I looked at him and he gave me one of his wonderful welcoming smiles. “OK buddy, let’s get you all fresh-as-a-daisy shall we?” He nodded vigorously but with a slight grimace so perhaps he was more than just sodden. + A poo-filled nappy isn’t a problem to me as I’ve changed quite a few over the time I’ve babysat but there was something about changing Georgie that felt would be different. Not different in that he was a bigger boy and therefore, what would greet me would also be bigger, but it felt like it was going to be a turning point of some kind. Again, I’m not sure why I thought this way because it wouldn’t be the first time I’d changed him but my approach this time was more dutiful than before. It felt as if this should be what I did for him, like not only did he expect it, but I expected to do it. What I found myself saying when the result of his open nappy was revealed “What a good boy.” He lay on his back hugging Bluey distractedly humming some piece of music from one of his favourite cartoons. Undeterred by the mess I simply smiled and encouraged him and continued to say how impressed I was and what a clever boy he was. It was like I’d been doing it my entire life. He was sucking on Bluey’s ear. His body was that of a teenager, although I have to say a baby soft teenager and had few if any muscles, but I spoke and treated him like he was a three year old and everything was special and an adventure so he should be praised for being ‘a good boy’. It was catching. However, as I cleaned that little pink piece of plastic holding his genitals in place I asked if it bothered him. I wasn’t sure what answer I was expecting but he just shook his head and said that mummy knows best. I suppose she does but I was still thinking he was sixteen and yet here I was treating him as a little tot. It was strange that one second I simply saw him as a child and the next a teenager like me. The thing was he wasn’t a teenager like me. He was a child, a vulnerable, sweet baby boy who needed protecting from the world’s nastiness and horrors. No wonder his mum and gran had gone out of their way to give him a life of juvenile security... his innocence would keep him safe. Well, all those thoughts filled my head as I set about making him as comfortable as I could. I quickly had Georgie all cleaned up and wearing in a lovely soft thick nappy, which returned him to the toddler status where he always looked most content. He’s a sweet child who needs love, affection and a great deal of looking after. I was in my element. I let him decide which plastic pants to wear and he pointed to a new pack which had been left unopened on top of a chest of drawers. “Oh,” I cooed as I ripped open the cellophane, “are these new?” He nodded. “Well this is exciting isn’t it... getting a new pair of pants for...” I was stunned because they were a lovely soft pink vinyl, very shiny but looked durable because of their thicker leg cuffs – nothing was going to leak from them. His eyes lit up. “Do you like these sweetheart?” He nodded enthusiastically, obviously the colour didn’t worry him in the least and then I thought, of course they wouldn’t, he doesn’t see things as boy colours or girl colours, nothing is that categorised in the mind of a toddler. He held Bluey up and talked to him as I shuffled his waterproof pants up his legs: they were incredibly sturdy. “Right then mister,” it was easy to see how unaffected he was by being changed but as I helped him up he just hugged me and said “Thank you hhmffaanyy...” The last word lost against my neck. “My pleasure sweetie,” I thought for a moment he’d called me ‘nanny’, which although a little odd had been what his mother and I had been talking about. He stepped back and of course I couldn’t help but pat his padded rear and ask him what he fancied doing next. His new pink plastic nappy cover actually glowed as a ray of sun brightened up his room and, ridiculously, I saw that as some kind of sign. I know I’ve said it before but he looked childishly, uncomplicatedly radiant. There was luminosity about him and it wasn’t just his shiny pants. He eagerly shouted “train” and ran over to where it was on the play-mat in the corner of his room, knelt down and began to push his wooden toy around the newly extended track. I had the soiled items to get rid of so I left him totally engaged shunting his train through whatever imaginary land he’d discovered. “I’ll be back in a few minute sweetheart... just need to do something with this” and held up his mucky bundle. Meanwhile, he’d slotted in his dummy and was already well into his ‘rail’ journey. “You’re a very good boy Georgie.” I found myself repeating as I left to go downstairs and begin my first day, as I saw it, as his nanny. + I was so pleased that Melanie was able to do next week because it would give me time to try and find someone a bit more permanent. However, because she hadn’t said a definite ‘no’ to my question about the school holidays, my hopes lifted that there might be some way she could help out. The thing is, even though it’s barely three weeks since she’s been coming, it’s difficult thinking of her as a sixteen year old schoolgirl. I mean, she appears to have matured right in front of my eyes and seems more than capable of looking after Georgie in a permanent capacity. Not only that but I feel confident in leaving her with him and I’m sure he’s happy being in her company. The way he hugs her and... well... I have wondered if he has the slightest idea of how friendly they used to be. I haven’t seen any indications that he recognises her but there are times when I think he must have a memory that there is something they have in common. At least I hope so... I hope that there’s at least a residual spark that links them together. I know, I know, it’s a ridiculous idea for her to be a ‘nanny’ because no doubt someone with her ambition and drive will have mapped out a future that doesn’t have me and my son at its centre. You’d think, over the years, that I’d have managed to gather a group of real friends who I could count on to ‘help out’. That’s simply not the case. I’ve always been weary of exposing Georgie to other people and suspicious that others might want to change him or interfere in him being how he is. Mum was always so protective and I suppose I became equally invested in keeping him away from any negativity others might bring. With Melanie, I don’t feel in the least bit worried about that. However, if she could give me those few weeks of summer holiday I’d make it financially worth her while but right now, I need to concentrate on work. They have a big contract coming up and I need to make sure the financial aspects are covered correctly. + The morning had gone quickly. Once I’d Georgie all cleaned up (he looked super happy in his t-shirt and pink vinyl pants), the washing done and nappies out on the line. Lunch would be a doddle because the fridge always had his meals labelled and ready for a warm up or simply ready to serve. Thankfully, Georgie isn’t a fussy eater, or maybe his mother had just worked out what he liked and gave him that, anyway, the hard work was already done. “Are any of your friends visiting us today Georgie?” He shook his head but showed me the extra track he had for his wooden train set and led me on a journey around his room that it almost circled. He made lots of train noises and station stops along the way and I was quite impressed just how simple the activity focused his concentration. For a brief moment I remembered us doing something similar when we were kids together. Then, like now, he was the train driver but I was a passenger and he’d take us on a wonderful journey around the living room stopping off at fairy-tale places he’d just learned about. His imagination, even as a toddler was quite exceptional. Well, that’s what my memory informed me. Now, I had to put my adult hat on. It was all very well getting down and playing next to him, stroking his lithe body and patting his padded bottom in encouragement, but I was an adult and had to come up with some fun things to occupy our time together. I’d seen that there were cooking ingredients in the cupboard and decided that after lunch I’d get him to make a special cake for when his mum returned from a hard day at the office. He liked that idea. Before that I took a break and checked my diary. He’d moved over to a space ship made from Lego that he was incorporating into his game but he’d slipped in his dummy and was gently sucking on that. Meanwhile, I had three people I sat for on a regular basis and another four who called me in when they needed emergency cover. However, with the holidays coming up, as had happened the year before, I was busy babysitting almost the entire time; some people not coping very well with their young being home during the day and often needing a break. Last year I made a ton of money in the holidays and anticipated the same would happen again this time so I hadn’t found a job like some of my friends. However, if I simply told everyone that I was fully booked up for this year so couldn’t do what I had before, then that would allow me to babysit Georgie the entire summer months. I know I wouldn’t make as much as I could do but, as someone famous once said “Money isn’t everything”, it might be an experience being a full time ‘nanny’. However, travelling backwards and forwards every day might be a burden but I could get around that, somehow? I wasn’t old enough for driving lessons, or a car but I did have a bike, though very rarely rode it these days. Still, it might be a possibility and it would keep me fit. The more I thought about it the more I definitely wanted to do it but thanks to that dream, my parents might have a problem with it all. I’d have to chat with Mrs Thompson more and find out if I can let them know just who it is I would be ‘nannying’ for, I mean, she did say to discuss it with my parents. + I was home by six with the smell of baking throughout the house. Georgie was grinning as I walked in and said, as he ran up to give me his usual welcoming kiss, that he and granny made me a cake. I thought he’d said ‘nanny’ and wondered if perhaps, somehow, between the two of them, they’d discussed it and Melanie had decided she’d take the job. Of course that was just me being very keen because I doubted if Georgie could discuss such a thing with anyone. His speech, like his reading and mental level was that of a three year old but my heart leapt at the thought. He was so proud of the sponge cake that was cooling on the table and I joined in with Melanie’s praise as to what a fantastic job he’d done. “Mummy, we’ve made a cake for your tea,” he beamed. He was wearing a very shiny pink plastic nappy cover and I wondered if it was something Melanie had brought for him because I didn’t remember buying him anything like it. “Is that a new pair of plastic pants sweetie?” He nodded that was the case. “They look shiny sweetheart, do you like them?” I queried not sure of the next response. He eagerly nodded his support for them. They did look quite sturdy and the thicker cuffs I’m sure meant, no matter how wet things got, very little would be escaping. I was impressed. “He’s been wearing them since this morning.” Melanie chimed in her usual measured way. “They were an unopened pack on the dresser... I wasn’t too sure,” she said as I ran my hand over them, “but he seems to love them”. I hadn’t bought him any new ones recently but perhaps they were a pair that had been in his drawers for a while and he’d just discovered them. I had a thought - maybe, ermm, perhaps from when mum used to love buying him stuff like that. That would be a few years back now surely they haven’t been hiding away all this time? “Did you find them in your drawer sweetie?” He shook his head. “Granny brought them.” “You mean granny ‘bought’ them sweetheart.” He looked a bit confused but I didn’t go into what the difference meant. “Well sweetheart, I think you look lovely wearing them and they go so well with your t-shirt.” “Yes, when I changed him earlier he wanted them back to wear and he even got some flour over them but it just wiped off... easy to clean wasn’t it Georgie?” asked Melanie in the sweetest manner. I liked the way they were with each other and hoped against hope that things would soon work out and Melanie would stay. “As easy as pie.” “Cake.” I added in my own ‘sweet’ and humorous way. I looked across at Melanie and she was equally as thrilled with what they’d produced and offered to make me a cup of tea. “Well it all looks fantastic sweetheart,” I said to Georgie, “but perhaps we can have a piece together after we’ve had our meal.” “Oh, I haven’t fed Georgie yet. Would you like me to make you something as well... I see we have pasta and stuff?” Melanie was on her way to the kitchen. “No love thanks. I had quite a large lunch so if you’ll just get his meal ready that would be terrific...” She looked at Georgie who was admiring the cake, “and then, later, I think we can enjoy the fruits of your afternoon’s labour.” + After he’d eaten his meal and Melanie had washed up we sat in front of the TV, Georgie lying on his belly with his legs wafting from side to side as he enjoyed one of his favourite cartoons about a police force of little dogs. I was sat on the chair, whilst Melanie sat on the sofa but I think we both knew we needed to talk. As Georgie was engaged in his show I ventured to ask if Melanie had thought any further about my offer. “I love the idea Mrs Thompson...” “Denise please, I think we’re past being that formal now.” “Denise, erm, it just doesn’t seem right but if you insist... Denise. I’d love to look after Georgie during the holidays but mum and dad will need to know an awful lot more about where I am and who I’m working for... are you sure it will be OK for me to tell them?” “Look love, I’m asking a lot of you and I’m sure, as a sixteen year old you have plans that take you far away from a babysitting service. However, you would be doing me a huge favour and I know Georgie would love it. So, if you want to tell your parents that’s fine and should they need to chat, I will make myself available if they have any queries.” I could see the worry slightly disappear from her face knowing she could chat openly to her parents but now I was worried about old wounds, opinions and gossip rearing its head all over again. I didn’t want to subject Georgie to any upset. + All the way home in the taxi I was both buzzing and apprehensive. The cake had gone down well and seeing Georgie in his little pink plastic pants had made me shudder in delight. It felt like he was wearing something I‘d given him, and not only that, he’d loved it. The pleasure I had on watching him wonder around, get involved with his toys or as we giggled our way through making the cake was immense. It seemed that every chance he got he wanted to cuddle and whisper how much he loved me and I repeated the same love back to him. As I patted his slinky pink padded bottom I knew I was destined to look after him. That was another thing. The fact that Denise had no idea where those pants came from was a bit perplexing but as she reasoned, it must have been something hidden away that her mother had bought at some time, and had resurfaced with Georgie finding them in a hidey-hole somewhere. In fact, the entire day couldn’t have gone better. Mrs Thomp... I mean, Denise had agreed to let me tell mum and dad about who she was and told them to ring her if they had any queries. However, despite my enthusiasm for the job I knew that neither of my parents would be happy about such a decision. They want me to follow my brother and sister to have a university experience and education. But, I know I’m only sixteen but I feel I know what I want for my future... and that’s working with children and what better way to get a start on that than being a ‘nanny’ for a few months during the holidays? Denise also said that if I wanted, there was a spare room that I could have so I wouldn’t have to travel every day, but that was up to me. The wage discussed was nowhere near how much I’d earned the previous year doing part time babysitting but it was more than I’d expected. Yes, by the time I got home I’d planned just how I’d approach my parents and how reasonable I was going to be. However, and this was the determining fact, I wanted to spend the summer holidays with Georgie... no matter what anyone else thought. + “Mum, I’ve found a job for summer.” I started as soon as I got in. “Have you love... well that’s super... where?” She smiled her support. “The lady I babysit for, the one I’ve just returned from needs someone more permanently and asked if I fancied being her son’s nanny.” I forced a smile laced with apprehension which I hoped she didn’t notice. “Really, isn’t that a bit too much to expect from a teenager?” I could see the doubt creeping into her eyes. “Not really,” I was quickly in with my argument. “I have been spending the last couple of Saturdays with him and he likes me and I like him, we get along well and besides, his mother needs the help.” “Yes, but love, being in total charge and babysitting are two completely different things... there’s so much more responsibility to being a nanny. Don’t you have to pass a test or something to be such a thing anyhow?” The conversation went on this way for some time and repeated itself when dad arrived home. However, I told them that despite everything it was something I wanted to do as I planned a career in childcare and this would be a brilliant opportunity to see if I was really cut out for such a job. “Well, who is this lady that’s offered you such an opportunity?” I think dad had tumbled there was more to my desire than just babysitting. “Well,” I started now for the first time a little unsure of myself, “do you remember the Hardy’s?” “Of course, Denise and Donald and erm...” “Georgie” “George, that’s right George.” I saw dad remembering things as they used to be. “Wasn’t he your best friend when you were kids, always in and out of each other’s houses?” He smiled at the memory. “It was such a shame what happened to them but Donald,” she sighed, “was such a bad self-centred man and Denise, well she was left to look after that little lad all on her own. It was disgusting what her husband left her with... all that debt and all...” Once mum got started it seemed she had a lot to say on the subject. I just let her talk. Eventually, the recollections of that period over ten years ago began to falter and brought them both back to what we were originally talking about. They looked to me to explain. “Well, Mrs Hardy is now Mrs Thompson,” and as if to explain I added, “her pre-married name. And, for the past couple of weeks I’ve been babysitting for her.” “Good heaven,” mum said, “I thought she’d left the area completely after all the things that were said about her and...” “Yes mum, that’s precisely why she didn’t want me to tell anyone I was babysitting for her... she didn’t want to rake up all the ‘nastiness and accusations’.” “Oh. I hope she didn’t think we were part of...” Mum was trying to defend something that might or might not have been said over ten years ago but she faltered as if she had perhaps said something she now regretted. “I suppose she didn’t re-marry?” Dad was on the case. “No, there’s just her and her son.” “So, she had another kid then?” Mum had a touch of accusation to her voice that I didn’t like. “No, just Georgie.” “Ohh,” was the confused collective sound from mum and dad. + ... to be continued

Many thanks for your comments... I really do appreciate everyone who takes the time to leave a message. So, a huge THANKS

Not sure if Melanie knows exactly why she reacts the way she does when around Georgie but she's committed and it's hard to deny that sweet boy/child anything. Thanks for the comment, it's much appreciated. Next chapter soon. Hugs to each and all Les

Thanks, glad you're enjoying it ? Last chapter up soon.

Part 9 For someone who likes everybody and tries to get on with everyone, the flouncing out of rehearsal with a barbed comment was just so unlike the Melanie everyone knew. I mean, I didn’t know it at the time but in that moment I got a reputation of being a bitch. Me a bitch! Apparently, Miss Hemsworth let it be known to all and sundry that I’d got into a strop and stormed out of the play leaving her to find a replacement at short notice. I’d let everyone down and should be ashamed of myself. I was relieved. Having learned this the following day, the next time I saw Miss Hemsworth, I called her a deluded, no talent bitch and was happy to be free of her ill-conceived and badly written play. Actually, I didn’t. I’d calmed down a bit so I may have thought it but said nothing and kept my head down. However, in that brief but intense exit from the play I’d found a different type of self-confidence that I hadn’t known I possessed. So, when there were a few comments and attitude from teachers, as well as other students I wasn’t prepared to put up with, I made it very clear not to mess with me because, if they thought I was a bitch now, just wait and see how much of a bitch I could be. That I did make clear. However, my threatening words carried no threat as I wouldn’t have had the first clue where to exact any kind of revenge. Still, it had given me confidence that I wasn’t going to be at anyone’s beck and call. When word trickled down to my family, to say they were shocked would be an understatement and mum set about trying to build bridges that I immediately burned down. “This just isn’t like you sweetheart.” Mum couldn’t understand her Grade A daughter creating such waves. “Why have people turned against...” “Look mum, people are stupid. They think they can do and say anything and I’ll go along with it because I’m nice. I’m not going to do things for other people just because they think I should. I’m nobody’s puppet.” I found myself agreeing even more with Mrs Thompson’s words of advice, which were once again swamping my thoughts. Mum just didn’t get that I had other, more important, things in my life that I was prioritising. Mind you, although she knew about my babysitting, she had no idea about Mrs Thompson and Georgie or exactly who I was babysitting for. To be honest, they had never questioned me about who it was that I travelled so far to babysit, they trusted me. However, I could see that things might change and I’d have to find a way of protecting the identity of Mrs Thompson and Georgie like she’d asked me to. I was sure that after all this time, the neighbours who still lived in the area must have by now forgotten about the Hardy’s but I couldn’t be sure and didn’t want that kind of scrutiny forced on the couple. Meanwhile, dad had subtly asked if I was having ‘boy trouble’. I wondered how he knew but realised he meant Pete, not knowing about my obsession with Georgie. Phew, I was easily able to swat that one away. I called Mrs Thompson up immediately and told her that my situation had changed and I could do this Saturday as planned and now the following Saturday if she hadn’t got anyone else yet. She seemed delighted at the fact and promised to pay for a taxi there and home afterwards. I was made up. However, she did ask if I had a cold as I sounded a little different. “No, just cleared my throat earlier.” I lied because I had no idea what she was talking about. “OK love, see you around nine on Saturday... and thanks.” + The next thing to do was get the artwork back from the gallery. Mrs Langford-Court had kept them to ‘reappraise’ but now I had to tell her that there would be no meeting and the artwork was no longer available for exhibition. I called in on my way home from school and she wasn’t happy with the news. It had also filtered down to her about my exit from the play and I suppose she thought I’d be a bit down about the entire thing and as a result could play me. At first she refused to return Georgie’s paintings and got quite clever about exhibiting this ‘mysterious’ new young artist. However, I just held out my hand and said “Paintings now” and she moved into her office and returned looking threatening as if to tear them up. “I’d think again lady,” I said in my best actressy voice. “Because if there’s so much as a crease on them... I will smash every single piece of ceramics and glass in this place.” I was standing next to a rather wonderful glazed ceramic vase, which had a price tag of £500 - I picked it up and rolled it in my hands. I tried to look my most casual but threatening as if it would be nothing for me to do just what I implied and she immediately went into defence mode. Maybe I’m a better actress than I thought? Mind you, I think she realised I wasn’t kidding and handed back my stuff unharmed. “It’s bloody rubbish anyway,” she sneered. “Oh, and don’t bother coming to the house again I think we’ll find someone better for Felicity.” Again the stupid woman thought she had the upper hand. “Thank God for that.” I smiled with as much contempt as I could muster. That would be a big dent in my finances but, I had more important clients... well, one. So I simply nodded and left with my artwork and breathed a sigh of relief that I was now free of another obligation and could focus on the one thing that mattered. + I didn’t ask Melanie why her circumstances had changed I was just so grateful that they had. I know I’m sounding a bit selfish but the relief of not having to find someone else quickly was a huge weight off my shoulders. Also, I noted that the school holidays were fast approaching and didn’t know if she’d found work to tide her over or if she’d be able to find more time for Georgie. Yes, I was being incredibly selfish. Meanwhile, Georgie had thankfully snapped out of his temperamental phase from the mall and seemed to have slipped nicely back into being mummy’s sweet little boy. In fact, in some ways he seemed more content, and loving, if that’s possible. At the mall the thought crossed my mind that he might have been getting a bit frustrated. I mean, he is sixteen and I wondered if perhaps he was experiencing feelings for Melanie. The quick way his mood changed had been a surprise and there had to have been some reason for it... and sadly for me that was the direction my mind went. Not only that, but if he was ‘excited’ with her being nearby and frustrated, then perhaps his little chastity cage was preventing him from doing what a normal sixteen year old boy’s willy does. However, when I was changing him, there was no evidence in his nappy that was the case and made no protest about the little pink contraption wrapped around his sweet little genitals. So, I just cleaned him up, put him in a super thick nappy with extra padding and pulled up a pair of lovely cheerful blue plastic pants with his favourite doggies running all over them. He seemed to calm down almost immediately, so assumed the little sulk was all about him being wet. Once ready he hugged me in his usual loving manner and slipped his dummy in but, as we were going to be walking through the mall, decided it might be better for him not to. Anyway, with one hand held in mine as we exited the place he shoved his other thumb between his lips so he could have had his dummy after all. + Collins and Sons, the firm that wants me more permanently, had recently expanded their business, buying up a couple of smaller firms and incorporating them in to their own. The MD, Teresa Pritchard, had taken me aside and told me that there was a job, a permanent job, that desperately needed filling. It was mine if I wanted it but they needed an answer a.s.a.p. They knew I had a son that had ‘special needs’ so appreciated that I might need some time to organise things. However, the job had a huge salary increase and would easily pay for any extra care needed. I got the impression that I’d have to be let go if I couldn’t accept because they needed someone to be in the office and sorting finances out permanently. I understood their predicament and was pleased that Teresa had explained that it was thanks to my financial know how that had made their business a growing success and they wanted me to be involved and be a part of that success. It was all very encouraging but... they needed a “Yes” or “No” pretty soon. I wondered if I could talk Melanie into looking after Georgie during the school holidays that would give me time to find a more permanent solution though realised it was going to be a lot to ask a sixteen year old girl to commit to. + For the last couple of nights I’d had a most intriguing dream. Although Georgie had popped up in my thoughts and the occasional dream, this had been different because it felt so real. I was in their conservatory, looking around and scanning all the artwork around the walls. It was as if I was doing an inventory but in my head the words “Who’s such a clever and talented boy?” were echoing around. Eventually my eyes focused on Georgie who was standing at an easel, deep in concentration, dummy in mouth but I couldn’t see, from where I was observing, exactly what he was painting. Try as I might to change position I just couldn’t, I was stuck. However, Georgie looked up at me and smiled behind his dummy “Hewo Gwanny, wiz I’ for ou.” It was then I sort of understood I was looking at the room from the position of granny’s portrait on the conservatory wall, and he was talking to that. I woke up startled and was further thrown into shock as my portrait suddenly looked like her. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, thankfully things were back to normal but I lay there shaking for a few moments before I could compose myself fully. + “Are you getting a cold dear?” Mum asked over breakfast. Not that I knew but Mrs Thompson had mentioned it so perhaps I was. “Maybe, the last few days have been... you know... difficult.” I offered by way of explanation. “Perhaps I’m just running a little low on energy or something...” “Maybe love, but just look after yourself...” “Sure.” Mum offered various powders and potions from the medicine cabinet should things progress further. I just hoped, if I was getting something it didn’t stop me from looking after Georgie. I don’t think I could have coped if I’d had to cancel that particular bit of babysitting. As it was, at school Sarah approached me and asked if I’d packed in babysitting as Mrs Langford-Court had asked her to look after Felicity. I told her that I’d had a bit of a run-in with the woman and so we mutually dissolved our arrangement. “Oh, she said she’d fired you.” Sarah said with a hint of suspicion but also desperate for the real reason. “Did she now? Well you’ll find out why if you take the job... so... good luck if you’re planning on accepting it.” I left her with that thought as I couldn’t be bothered playing that stupid, double-barrelled, deluded woman’s game. I was better than her in just about every way. I didn’t need to feel superior, I was. Where that thought suddenly sprang from I have no idea but I was definitely feeling a lot more assertive in myself. I must be maturing, perhaps that happens to girls when they reach sixteen? # In English Miss Hemsworth tried her best to ignore me but I just kept looking at her with the utmost contempt. I knew I wanted a reaction from her so I could lambast her in front of the class but she seemed more than usual on edge and fluffed her lines a few times as she read the lesson. Sitting in the corner was Pete with Abigail Trent, who I suppose had been drafted in to take my place. She was a lot plainer than me (and I’m not saying that to be a bitch) but I’d seen her audition and she was hopeless. She had nice hair though. Anyway, none of that bothered me at all. I was out of it and I could concentrate on the other kids I babysat and look forward to the only one that really mattered come the weekend. Thursday night and I had the most incredible dream that included Mrs Thompson, mum, dad and Georgie. Mrs Thompson had offered me the job of ‘live in nanny’ to be permanently looking after Georgie. Mum and dad were furious once they found out who exactly it was I was working for and forbid me to have anything more to do with the family. However, the row didn’t end there. I refused to continue my studies and go on to University like me brother and sister had, and told them I wanted to work with children and this was an ideal opportunity. They didn’t know of Georgie’s ‘problem’ but because of all the rumours and gossip surrounding the Hardy’s (the family name when we were neighbours) they thought I’d be best well away. When I explained that for the last three weeks I’d been babysitting her boy they accused me of being underhand and lying. They were not having it and a huge bitter row ensued. I woke up without the argument coming to any conclusion and a little confused because mum and dad and the Hardy’s had been the very best of friend’s way back when. Nonetheless, I was very restless about the following day when I’d see the Thompson’s again and wondered if my dream was some kind of message... or premonition... or maybe wishful thinking? + Since I’d met Melanie that lunchtime I’d been wondering if I should take Georgie’s artistic bent a little more seriously. I mean, I also thought he was talented but didn’t think his stuff worthy of an exhibition. When does a sixteen year old get their own exhibition? I asked myself. The fact was, the conservatory was festooned with his artwork and maybe it would be good for him to have something else other than... me? Well, I‘ve tried to protect him from the more unsocial elements of life because I knew how being different can so easily cause trouble. It was OK with his mates from the nursery coming to see him because they’d known him for most of their lives. Those who did still keep in touch simply accepted him as he was and that was a blessing but should I be making more of an effort? He was sixteen and his world consisted of the house, his nappies and me and although he seemed content I didn’t really know if he was. I think it strange that it’s now that I’m thinking these thoughts. I suppose because things are changing in my life (what with the job offer) I need to think more about Georgie and our future needs. I’m sure when Melanie first met him she wondered what I’d done to keep him as a child. I kept telling myself it was what he wanted, no, needed, to survive and I wanted my son more than anything else. It had taken so long to cajole him from that dark place he retreated to as an abandoned five year old, I just wanted him back and in my life and thanks to mum, we eventually got that. I look across at him now from behind a sheaf of Collins and Sons papers I’m working on and he’s happily playing on the lounge floor talking with Bluey and an assortment of his other stuffed toys about someone coming to stay soon and they had to be nice. He’s wearing a pale blue onesie and underneath I can see his thick nappy held in place by his Pokémon yellow vinyl pants. He’s crawling around, organising and giving a cheery word to each animal and seems, as always, completely stress free. I wonder if he’s going to ask me to buy him another toy from something he’s seen on TV, it’s where he gets most of his ideas – a new cartoon or kids show. The thing is, I love getting all these things for him; the clothes, the toys, the books and bedding and that’s simply because I feel guilty about the life he’s led so far and if these simple items make him happy, then why not? The joy on his face when he gets anything new is wonderful to see. He literally lights up a room; his blue eyes sparkle, his blond hair shimmers and his happy smile radiates pure delight. The thing is... all those things make Georgie special. I never get tired of watching him or playing with him or watching him play with others in his innocent and always thoughtful way. He never has tantrums (well apart from the sulky moment in the mall, which was most unlike him) and is happy to be led rather than be a leader. How can I interfere with a boy who has found such comfort with himself, who has no worries or cares and loves his mummy? He’s seen me looking and smiles, comes over and crawls into my lap. No more work for the time being because it’s cuddle time and I never miss an opportunity to snuggle with my loving son. + I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days but I’m having the most intense and detailed dreams. I wake up and I’m exhausted because it feels like I’ve actually done whatever I was doing in my dream world. This last one had me attending Georgie (naturally) but it was more of a hands-on approach, more like his mother than a babysitter. I was cleaning him up from his regular wet nappies, making him meals, taking him out to the park and generally looking after him. Except, I wasn’t his mummy because she was in the dream too and was being supportive; agreeing with my actions and praising when Georgie accomplished even the most basic task. It was quite weird because I was leading the conversation and actions. Anyway, I’d booked a cab Saturday morning to get me over to their house by 8:30 as I wanted to check a few things with Mrs Thompson before she had to hurry off to work. She appeared pleased when I arrived a good thirty minutes earlier than planned and invited me to take breakfast with them both. Mrs Thompson had coffee and toast, Georgie was enjoying Rice Krispies in a Minion plastic bowl. He smiled as I entered but didn’t say anything else... he knew not to talk whilst eating. He was still in his Minion jammies so assumed his mother hadn’t got him ready yet but neither appeared in the least bit worried. “I’m glad you’re here love, I wanted to run a couple of things past you.” Mrs Thompson started before I had chance to voice my concerns. “As I’ve mentioned before Collins, the people I work for, want me on a more permanent basis. They’ve offered me the most perfect job, which to be honest I desperately want to take but of course, for the past few years my life has had to revolve around Georgie but circumstances change and therefore so do other things.” I was nodding because she’d alluded to this in the past and in our conversation at the mall. “I need to find Georgie a permanent nanny. One I can trust and more importantly, one who knows how to treat him as the special boy he is.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was exactly, well more or less, the dream I’d had but now it was real. “I think,” She continued, “it may well take me some time to find the right person.” Again I nodded though wanted to offer my services. “Anyway, the upshot is the company want me to start in the office permanently in the next couple of weeks and I was wondering, if you haven’t made any other arrangements, would you like the temporary job of, well, being just that... Georgie’s nanny whilst the school holidays are on?” I couldn’t believe what she was asking, it was all falling into place but I was struck dumb for a moment. “I know this is great deal to ask, and I’m not even sure you haven’t already made other arrangements but, if there’s a chance you can, please say yes as it would save me an awful lot of worry.” Georgie had stopped eating and was watching his mum and me having this discussion and for the first time since I’d met him, he appeared to be engaged in exactly what we were talking about. He didn’t say anything but I got a glance like he knew. Not only that, he knew what my answer would be. + ...to be continued.

Hi There Mj500 Glad you enjoyed this story and although I may not say that most of my main characters are gay... I can't say they're not gay (if you see what I mean). However, the story below has gay characters and I hope, if you dig around for other stuff I've written (there's quite a bit) you'll find a few more to enjoy. In the meantime, let me know what you think of this one...? All the best and hugs aplenty Les

Lovely to hear, thank you.

My pleasure Maly and thanks for your continued support, I'm most grateful ?

Part 8 Mrs Langford-Court, whose eight year old daughter, Felicity, I babysit owns a gallery in town. She displays local, as well as more established talent and, of course, despite my promise not to, I wanted her opinion on Georgie’s artwork. She thought the couple of still unframed paintings I showed her were very accomplished and asked me to leave them with her for further analysis. Maybe, she teased, she would be interested in exhibiting them at some point in the future, when her gallery “...wasn’t so busy”. I was disappointed because it felt like a brush off and then I said something that I know I shouldn’t but wanted Georgie to be acknowledged for the incredible talent he was. “What if I was to say this artwork is produced by a sixteen year old who has the mental age of a toddler?” I could see she was intrigued and wanted to know more and I’m afraid, I was so keen on talking Georgie up, I forgot the promise I’d made. It was strange because although I was doing all the talking, with the occasional “yes” and “hmm” from her, I could see her brain was elsewhere - no doubt planning publicity campaigns about her ‘finding and promoting’ a new genius. “Is he autistic or something?” She enquired and I could see, despite her natural upper-class restraint, she was getting quite excited about the possibilities. “Not that I know but he is ‘different’.” “When can I meet this... exceptional artist?” She was no longer dismissive and things had become real. “Erm, ummmm, emmm, I’m not sure...” I suddenly realised I’d overstepped the mark and didn’t know how to put the genie back in the bottle. “Come on Melanie,” she said clutching the artwork closer to her chest, “surely it’s not a secret and I’m sure we can all earn something from a little venture.” “I’ll have to ask.” She could see I was hesitant but now she was engaged didn’t like the sudden reticence. “Well you do just that Melanie... and I expect to hear from you soon. I just hope this doesn’t interfere with your babysitting opportunities.” Although she was smiling I detected a slight threat that if this didn’t go as she hoped, there would be consequences. I also realised that there would be consequences from Mrs Thompson because I’d betrayed her trust. God, I’d made such a mess and it’s was entirely my own stupid fault. Why couldn’t I leave well alone? + I must be mad. For the next couple of nights, once I’d put Georgie to bed, I hung around outside his room to see if I could hear him ‘talking’ to mother. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find out, and in many ways wasn’t sure there was anything to find out but my sweet boy said he chatted to his granny and I couldn’t ignore that ‘fact’. A ghost of mother would be just too much, but also, why wasn’t she coming to see me? However, nothing. By the third night I realised I was indeed mad and why had my head immediately fixated on mum being a ghost? I mean, that’s just stupid and yet I’d let myself be drawn to that as a possibility rather than examine what might be really happening - my poor boy misses his granny and dreams about her still being in his life. In this initial folly and ill-conceived ‘action plan’ I did seriously think about moving house. However, and this was a very good point that I should have thought about before getting in touch with an Estate Agent, where the hell would we live when we had a fantastic home that was already paid for? Once I’d come to that conclusion I felt a bit better but was quite annoyed at myself for going down that path. However, it had been useful in some ways. I was able to see how mum had influenced both my son and me. Because of the way she talked about him being a good little boy for his mummy and granny, those apron strings were tied tightly so he wouldn’t be straying far at all. Yes, she’d been quite an influence but maybe I was giving her too much credit (or accusing her) because perhaps Georgie is being Georgie and the way he is, is the way he is – simple, innocent and loving. However, I asked him if he fancied moving house and living somewhere else but he just looked at me vacantly as if he didn’t understand the question. I’d keep him as amused as I could during the day but then, at various times in the afternoon, some of his friends would pop in and he’d play with them. Thankfully, all the kids that came I could trust to be friendly and keep Georgie interested. Although, in truth, he’d never had much of a problem keeping himself entertained. It was at these times (and when he was in bed) that I could catch up on the freelance accounting jobs. Nevertheless, rather than the casual stuff, I was finding that I had to devote more time to the accounting and finances of the firm who wanted me on a more permanent basis. There was no doubt about it, I’d have to wind up the irregular side of things, which didn’t pay that well as there wasn’t as much of it around, and spend all my efforts towards full time work. + To begin with, when mum was around we’d managed and the extra money coming in from the freelance stuff helped pay some of the bills. Once mum died she left the house and a small legacy which meant we were getting by OK, as long as the casual stuff continued to the same extent. Unfortunately, that was slowly disappearing and the offer of part time work had come at the most opportune time. At one point I even thanked mum (in my prayers) as I was sure it was her that had guided me to their advert in the first place. I’d placed an IN MEMORIAM announcement in the local paper after her passing and in the column next to it was an advert for - Part-time staff with accounting experience needed for family run business. It was as if it had all been meant to be and that mum was still part of my life guiding in some way. The things you do and say without thinking only for it to turn around and bite you on the bum when something like Georgie’s possible night time visitations happens. I mean, I don’t believe in ghosts (or pixies for that matter) but when Melanie said what she said about Georgie’s declaration, I felt a weird cold shiver run down my spine. It was spooky and I could quite easily believe that ‘shiver’ meant something. So for a couple of days I’d convinced myself that mum was making ghostly visits to my son and it was only once I actually sat down and rethought the situation, and my reaction to it, that I was able to make some sense of it. Mum was always very supportive of her grandson. After the unbelievable trauma of his dad leaving and my incompetent way of dealing with it, a gentle approach to his rehabilitation seemed the best way to go. She didn’t want to rush him into anything and always praised him for any little social venture. Even telling him what a clever and wonderful boy he was for using his nappies. At the time it seemed sensible and even I found myself praising and accepting these small triumphs as positives that Georgie should be praised for. Georgie had spent a great deal of his life where the two most important people in his life praised him for wearing and using his nappy, of course the boy was going to continue to do so. He thought (or thinks) he is doing precisely what we want. Although at times it is quite exhausting - making sure he’s clean and dry, and, with constantly washing his nappies, it takes quite a bit of effort to keep him content and happy. The fact that he can, at sixteen, run through the house wearing only his protection and not feel in the least bit concerned, well it’s strangely heartening. I know it shouldn’t be but he looks so cute the way he is and what he wears just makes him look so unbelievably adorable. I suppose I’m as much to blame as mum because I’ve just let it happen. I accept there’s been trauma on both sides but Georgie hasn’t so much as found himself, more he’s been created to fall in with an image I found acceptable after the nightmare of us being lied to and abandoned by my husband. Perhaps my sweet, traumatised little boy saw how much kids in the nursery made his granny happy and simply fell in with that image. The fact he was then praised for it, maybe, made him cling to something he felt safe with... I just don’t know. I could still be trying to justify my part in all this OR I could be right all along and Georgie has been damaged so much he can only function at the level of a little boy. I’ll have to tell the Estate Agent that I’ve changed my mind and I’m not selling. I’m sure that won’t go down well because the house is in a very desirable area. Oh well! + For the rest of the week I was pretty distracted. I wasn’t sure if Mrs Langford-Court actually found Georgie’s artwork worthy or if she was just seeing him as a ‘cause’ she could both make money from and appear to be a philanthropist. On top of that Pete was getting edgy as the end of term performance dates approached, which I don’t think was helped by my keeping him at a distance. No matter how hard I tried, whenever I was with him I was still thinking about Georgie. I saw Georgie everywhere. I don’t mean in his granny’s ghost coming to visit him type of way, he was just permanently in my head. Even when we were rehearsing for the play I’d occasionally get Pete’s character’s name wrong and say Georgie, much to the director’s annoyance. As soon as I was in my bedroom, and with the portrait of me looking down, all I could think of was that cute little boy. A sixteen year old teenager, who wore a nappy and seemed completely happy, would fill my head and make me smile. He was so unlike anyone else I’d ever met or read about, unique, and just so wonderful to be with. Because of the way my body and mind reacted to him I think I was falling in love, or that’s what it felt like. I had no other explanation. I felt privileged to be part of his life, no matter how weird it was. Of course, the other thing that had got my mind racing was the fact he said his granny visited every night. I wasn’t sure if I believed in ghosts or not but didn’t feel I could discuss this point with anyone other than Mrs Thompson, but then I’d have to mention the gallery and Mrs Langford-Court. I needed to speak to her before next Saturday if possible because I had too much going on and my head felt like it was about to explode. I picked up my phone and dialled. + I was surprised to get the call from Melanie. She sounded a little agitated but asked if there was a chance we could meet up before her next sitting. I mentioned I’d be coming into town with Georgie to get him some new bits and bobs and suggested , if she could, that we’d meet up for lunch. She agreed. At the mall she looked so much younger dressed in her school uniform, although still very much like a girl-in-charge and seemed genuinely pleased to see us both. As I hadn’t told him about the meeting Georgie was very excited to suddenly see her and gave her a huge hug - like he was greeting one of his best friends. I saw she automatically patted his bottom as they hugged but I thought his shorts hid his padding quite well though I’m sure he wouldn’t be bothered anyway. She told me she had a confession and that she’d done something I specifically asked her not to do. I was immediately worried that she’d exposed who she was babysitting for and that the entire estate would know who and where I was. I couldn’t stand the idea of bringing up all that gossip and those appalling accusations. But no, it was something about Georgie’s art. She said that because she was so impressed she’d taken it to have it appraised at a gallery. I know I gave her a dirty look and she was all contrite and full of apologies. That was until I said that I didn’t mind as long as it wasn’t that appalling Langford-Court woman. She’s such a stuck up bitch I couldn’t stand her... even when we were neighbours. I could see her face drop and she admitted that, as she babysat her daughter (So, her and her husband finally found time for someone else in their lives did they?) she went to her. “You didn’t say who the artist was?” “Not by name but, I’m sorry to say, I did lay it on a bit that the artist was ‘special’” She smiled at Georgie, who I was sure hadn’t followed much of what was said. He’d got a colouring mat and seemed to be happy crayoning on that; much to the amusement of other diners. Although he was dressed far more childishly than anyone else his age, because it was quite a warm day he wasn’t the only teenager wearing shorts, so wasn’t like a sore thumb. I suppose it was because I knew what he wore underneath and that made me a bit more ‘protective’? “I’m really sorry but she’s pushing for a meeting and...” “Well that isn’t going to happen. I’m afraid Melanie you’ve got yourself into this so you’ll have to find a way of getting out. All I can say is that if she asks, tell her that I know who she is and it’s a flat no because I can’t stand her because I think she is a stuck up bitch.” She laughed out loud, which was nice. “That should certainly stop her asking.” We both chortled at the idea of the possible look of shock on her face. I was behaving like a school kid myself. Georgie was grinning as well, I think pleased that we appeared to be enjoying our time together. She then brought up the subject of ‘granny’s late night visits’ and I asked her if she believed in ghosts. She was unsure. I told her I didn’t but could see how dreams about his gran could quite easily be interpreted by a boy like Georgie to be actual visits. I told her I’d not seen nor heard anything that might suggest otherwise, other than mum’s striking portrait in the conservatory. I had to agree, her eyes did follow you around the room. We laughed at our silliness but I saw Georgie take a black crayon and scribble out the fine piece of crayoning he’d done. He didn’t look happy. I asked if he needed a change but he just shrugged and went to sitting in a mood, which was the complete opposite of how he’d been. Now neither of us could get even a smile out of him and he began to moan about wanting to go home. Before I left she reminded me about her play and said she’d be unavailable certain days that week and hoped I’d be able to find someone else. I complimented her and said I’d find it difficult to replace her but that I appreciated the time she’d already given up for me and was only sorry I couldn’t come and bring Georgie along to see it. We did a little bit of further small talk before Georgie’s grumpiness got the better of him and he began to sulk. I checked his nappy and it was soaked so I brought the proceedings to a close by finding a toilet to change him before we went home. + I was glad to get things off my chest. Mrs Thompson hadn’t been as annoyed as I thought she would and, although I pretended otherwise (not) I thought her comments about Mrs Langford-Court were spot on; having said that, she does pay well for me sitting her daughter, so I can have no complaints. However, it was a definite “no” about Georgie’s artwork so I would just have to tell her that the artist’s mother had refused any such meeting. I was however a little perplexed at Georgie himself. He seemed happy and radiant (if I’m allowed to call him such) to begin with but with the mention of his granny’s ‘visits’ there was a sudden and dramatic change in his personality. I’d not seen him grumpy before so it was quite a shock. Try as I might I couldn’t nudge him from his silent and then moaning state. Even his mother seemed a bit baffled by it. The thing is, when I first saw him and he smiled at me, I caught a glimpse of how it used to be when we were toddlers. I mean, even at sixteen he still looks like he did back then (or is it just me thinking that way?) even down to the nappy under his shorts. God he looked so damn cute and that cheerful greeting and hug was just what I needed. So, although it was good to talk about my worries, the play and boyfriend situation, it also just confirmed how much I’d rather be changing Georgie’s nappies than doing any of that. His immature clothes, and it has to be said equally immature features, make me just want to protect and cherish him as much as his mother does. “Oh god, do I want to mother him?” I watched as his mother led him towards the toilet for what I assumed would be a nappy change and I felt a little cheated. I wanted to do that to my favourite person. However, as I walked away I felt a strange chill run down my back and I immediately knew I’d be seeing him again soon and all would be well. Although I had to admit, it was the weirdest sensation I’d ever experienced and for a moment felt relieved and quite faint at the same time. + After our lunch I returned to school and then, as we had further rehearsals spent more time with our theatre group. Pete was being all moody and his acting suffered as a result. The director noticed our lack of cohesion and took me to one side and asked if there was anything wrong. I said nothing I could think of, I wasn’t playing his little game, but I thought it was a little unprofessional. However, her attitude was it was up to me to fix it and I baulked at that suggestion. I simply told her that I had other things going on in my life that weren’t centred around the play or the rest of the cast and reminded her that she’d asked me to play the part, I hadn’t auditioned. I was surprised at my antagonism because normally I’m the peacemaker but on this occasion I couldn’t be arsed with him for bringing his wounded persona into the rehearsal room and for Miss Hemsworth thinking it was my fault. I walked out and told her straight she should sort him out or get a replacement and I said out loud, “...for him or for me I don’t mind... you choose.” I could hear the intake of breath from the rest of the cast but as I was through the door I felt a touch of relief. I’d never been like that with anyone before and, if I’m honest, I found it quite liberating not agreeing to anything for a quiet life. I liked this ‘new and improved’ me. When I thought about it further it was something Mrs Thompson had said that made me react like I had. “You’re a very clever young woman so make sure you also want what he, or anyone else, wants.” That was the thing, all this other ‘stuff’ was keeping me away from Georgie so it wasn’t what I wanted... he was the one person I really wanted to be with. + ...to be continued.